LIBRARY Q Ml ffimglislj Aati0]ii:. I. ^ut0grapljs rf |lltistriaus ^trsonagts irf t\t C^irir ^trioi. POLITICAL SERIES : ROYAL AND NOBLE PERSONAGES. Ilk^arb II. fenrg IV. z^' 0. CeVc^i VQ Cotton MSS. Vesp. F. xiii., fol. 3. Cotton MSS. Vesp. F. xiii. fol. 3. 3 p£nrg V. tm}'^^\vy]< j t^-^y-i^^'^ycmwoi RTHEH^OP^ 1 WOITLE THA.T YK OOMMESD. Cotton MSS. Vesp. F. iii. fol. 5. Vesp. F. xiii., fol. 27. V^ |o^n |Ianlagmt, ^ah of gfbforb. f ump^wg IpiarrfagtniEl, ^nb of (&\amt$itt. Cotton MSS. Vesp. F. vii. fol. 52. |o^n Stalbol, (Karl of ^^fbsbnrg. Cotton MSS. Vesp. F. iii. fol. 9. 7 ^ic^arir |la«tagend, Juk of fork. \ /^' 5^ TAI.SC)T. Cotton MSS. Vesp. F. xiii. fol. 30. K,.YOBK Cotten MSS. Vesp. F. iii. fol. 9. 8 ibfcoarb IV. f cf.ifl'M; 'ARS 0? MA.R^:a ■M"0>TO(.WAl.i MOAlKiHAH The first intere.sting specimen is from a letter to liis father, written in his vouth from Ludlow Ca.stle, thanking him for green gown.s sent him, and requesting fine bonnets. The 2d is from Vesp. f". xiii., fol. 32; and the monograms (3 and 4), are from the same volume, foho.s 37 b and 61. A.Ftillaruni tc isho]) of Worcester), Archbishop Laud (as Bishop of St. David's), An-hbisliop Laud (as Archbishop of Canterbury), John Lchuid, Williani Lilly, George, Lord Lyttlctoii, Andrew Marbell, ilary L, Queen (as I'rinccss), Mary L, Queen (as Queen), Kichard Mead, Philip Massinger, George Monk, Duke of Albemarle, . Sir Thomas More, . Archbishop Parker, William Penn, Humphrey Plantagenet, Duke of Gloucestci Kichard Plantagenet, Duke of York, John Plantagenet, Duke of Bedford, Cardinal Pole, Alexander Pope, Archbishop Potter, . ]\Iatthew Prior, Richard IL, .... Richard IIL (as Duke of Gloucester), Richard IIL (as King), Richard III. (Monogram), . Sanniel Richardson, Nicholas Rowe, Sir Ralph Sadler, ... Archbishop Sancroft, John Selden, John Selden (second Autograph), . Archbishop Sharp, . William Shenstonc, Sir Philip Sydney, . Algernon Sidnej^, Tobias Smollett, Edmund Spenser, Spencer, Earl of Sunderland, Stanhope, Viscount Stanhope, Lawrence Sterne, Charles Edward Stuart, Sir John Suckling, . Jonathan Swift, John Talbot, Earl of Shrewsbury, . Archbishop Tenison, James Thomson, John Tiptoft, Earl of Worcester, Charles, Viscount Townshend, Admiral Vernon, Villiers, Duke of Buckingham, Archbishop W^akc, . Period. No. Fourth Fifth Fifth Fourth Fourth Seventh Fifth Fourth Fourth Seventh Fifth Fifth Fourth Fourth Sixth Third Third Third Fourth Seventh Seventh Sixth Third Third Third Third Seventh Sixth Fourth Sixth Fifth Fifth SLxth Seventh Fourth Fifth Seventh Fifth Sixth Sixth Seventh Seventh Fifth Seventh Third Sixth Seventh Third Sixth Seventh Fifth Sixth of I'lalo. 5 'J 9 6 G 14 11 3 3 15 10 12 1 1 1 3 15 14 13 1 2 15 13 4 13 10 10 13 15 6 8 15 11 12 12 15 14 11 15 1 13 15 2 12 14 7 13 Vol. Page, i. 63« ii. 2semblance of manners and customs, — the identity of religious doc- trines and practices, — and, above all, the clear and strong testimony of language, — all prove the one people to have sprung from the other. The original name of our island is that by which it still continues to be designated in the language of our Scottish Gael, the unmixed de- scendants of its primitive inhabitants. They call it Albinn, as we find Aristotle, the most ancient of the classic authors by whom it is men- tioned, calling it Albiun. Inn is the Gaelic terni for a large island; •xlb, though not now used by the Scottish Gael, Is sufficiently a.scer- tained to have anciently signified white. It is preserved both in the Latin albits, and in the geographical terms Alps and Apen?mies, (that is, Alp-pennin, or white mountain,) these ridges being so called from fhe perpetual snow seen on their summits. Albhm, therefore, means the white island, and the name was probably given to Great Britain from the chalk clifts which it presented to the view of the people on the opposite coast. As for the word Britain, numerous interpretations have been given of it ; but perhaps the most probable is that advanced by Mr Whitaker, in his history of Manchester, and afterwards more fully developed in his " Genuine Origin of the Britons asserted," in answer to Mr Macpherson. It appears pretty clearly that Britin, tlie barbaric term from which the Greeks and Romans formed :J\eir smoother Britannia, was really the name not of the island but of its inhabitants. Die termination in, in fact, which has so much perplexed Camden and other able antiquaries, is nothing more than the sign of the plural, according to the usual mode of declension in the Gaelic tongue. And Brit, Mr Whitaker maintains, signifies merely the divided or separated. It is in fiict the same word with brik or brechan, a garment distin- guished by divided or variegated colours, and still the common appel- lation of the Highland plaid. The Briiin, therefore, were the separated people — w the emigrants, tis we should say — those who had removed from the rest of their countrymen in Gaul, and settled in Albinn. The whole of the southern coast of England, from Kent to the Land's End, appears to have been peopled in this way before either the more northern or the midland districts of the island had been pene- trated. As the descendants of the original settlers, however, increased in number, and new bands of emigrants successively arrived from the mother-country, the back woods were gradually cleared, till, at last, the whole island had become inhabited. There is abundant evidence that this result had taken place long before the commencement of the Christian era. During this interval, also, a great part of Ireland had been taken possession of, and peopled, no doubt, from the neighbour- ing coasts of the west of England. It seems to have been to one of the bands of foreign invaders, w!io chus overran Ireland, that the epithet Scots was first applied. The word — of which, however, difi'erent interpretations have been given — IS most probably the same with the modern Gaelic term scuit or scaoit, signifying a wandering horde, — the origin, also, in all likelihood, of the name Scythians, so famous in all the records of these remote ages. From Ireland a branch of the Scots, several ages afterwards, passed over into Scotland, and eventually gave their na,iie to the country. Scotland, however, had long before this been peopled both along its coasts, and in part, at least, of the interior, by the gradual movement northM'ards of the tide of population from South Britain. The general name given to the inhabitants of the nortliern part of the island before, and for som centuries after the era of Christianity, was not Scots, Lut Caledonians, tliat is, CaoHldaoin, men of the woods. They are spoken of by the Roman writers as divided into the Deucaledones and the Vecturiones. The former of thcoC .lesignations is the Gaelic Duchaoill- dnmn, literally the true or real inhabitants of the woods ; and it was applied to the mountaineers in the north-western part of tlie countrj', or what we now call the Highlands, as distinguished from the inliabi- TO FIRST PERIOD. tajits of the plains. Tliose latter were denominated Vecturiones — pnj- nounced by the Itomans Wccturiones — a word smoothed down fron) the Gaelic UacJUarich, that is, the people of the part of the country called Uachtar, the name given to the Lowlands, and still preserved in the appellation of the mountainous ridge Drumuachtar, from which the descent of the country towards the east commences. Some anti- quaries have held the Roman term Picti to be merely a corruption of UaclUarich, and therefore to be in point of fact the same with Vectu- riones. Others conceive it to be the common Latin word signifying painted, applied by the South Britons — after they had themselves fallen undei the yoke and ac(juired the language of the Romans — to their un- conquered brethren of the north, who, with their liberty, still preserved their ancient savage customs, and that one among others, of adorning their bodies with figures formed of colours daubed upon or impressed mto the skin, — the tattooing of the modern Soiith Sea islanders. How- ever this may be, nothing can be more certain, notwithstanding the special pleading by which another theory has been attempted to be supported, than that the people called by our historians Picts, and who inhabited the level country along the east coast of Scotland, were a Gaelic or British race, and spoke a dialect of the common Gaelic tongue of the rest of their countrymen. We incline, for our own part, to consider the term Picts — or rather Pec/ifs, for so it is still generally pronounced in Scotland — as not a Latin but a Gaelic word, whether the same with Uachtarich, or not. But in this brief sketch we can only attempt to state the leading results to which those have arrived who have, in our opinion, most successfully investigated this extensive, dark, and intricate subject. The reader has now before him as com- plete a view as our limits will permit us to give, of the manner in which the British islands were originally peopled, and the import of the seve- ral names by which both the country and its earliest inhabitants Avere distinguished. The sum of the whole is, that the primitive colonists and possessors both of Great Britain and L'eland, the Britons, the Cale- donians, the Scots, and the Picts, were all equally Gaelic tribes. We prefer the term Gael, or Gauls, to that of Celts, or Kelts, who in fact were only a particular division of the Gauls. The Celts were the Caoiltich, or the inhabitants of the woody country, so called from caoill, a wood, the same element which enters into the composition of the epithet Caledonii, as already noticed. With the exception of these general facts, the whole of British his- tory is nearly an impenetrable night, till we come down almost to within half a century of the birth of Christ. In the j'ear 55 before that event, the troops of the Mistress of the M'orld first landed upon this remote isle, led by the invincible Caesar. This memorable invasion is calculated to have taken place about five o'clock in the afternoon ot the 26th of August. Caesar's pretence for thus attacking the Biitons was, that they had been in the habit of sending over assistance to their kindred, the inhabitants of Gaul, with whom he was then at Mar. It is likely enough that there may have been some truth in this accusa- tion; but there can be no doubt that the real motive which impelled the great Roman leader to carrj"- his arms to Britain, was merely the same ambition of conquest which mainly led him on in every part of his brilliant but destruct've career. The Britons, however, opposed a HISTORICAL INTRODUCTION bold resistance to the enemy ; and although they did not succeed in preventing the landing of the Roman legions, they speedily convinc<>d the commander that their subjugation was not likely to be effected quite so easily as he had probably anticipated. After having remained in the country for three or four weeks, and granted a peace to the na- tives, on receiving from them a number of hostages, he again set out for Gaul, without even leaving any portion of his troops behind him to maintain tlie nominal conquest which he had made. In the following spring, however, he again landed with a much more powerful arma- ment than before. The Britons, also, were this time better prepared to meet their formidable invaders. Having wisely and patriotically made up, or at least agreed to forget for the present, the differences that had hitherto divided them into so many hostile tribes, they unitec' their forces under the command of the most celebrated warrior of their nation, Cassibelaunus, king of the Trinobantes, who inhabited the ter- ritory immediately to the noilh of the Thames. But all their braveiy was vain against the experience and consummate discipline of the Roman soldiers. After a war of a few months, in the course of which several pitched battles were fought, almost uniformly terminating in the defeat of the Britons, Cassibelaunus and several of the other chiefs found themselves compelled to sue for peace on the hard condition oi acknowledging the sovereignty of Rome, and thus surrendering the liberties of their country. The conqueror was satisfied with this mea- sure of submission, and after the imposition of a tribute, again with- drew with all his troops to Gaul. His stay in the country on this second occasion, is supposed to have been about four months in all, or from the middle of May to that of September. Csesar, as Tacitus remarks, rather showed the Romans the way to Britain, than actually put them in possession of it. For twenty years after his time, no tribute was derived from the nominally van- quished barbarians. Augustus then threatened to punish them foi their disobedience; but although he advanced as far as Gaul for that purpose, he returned without actually visiting the country, upon the Britons sending ambassadors to meet him with a renewed offer of their allegiance. For many years after this they remained un- disturbed. It was not till the AM year of our era, in the reign of the emperor Claudius, that any thing like an attempt was made to effect a real conquest of the island. In that year the Roman general. Plan tins, landed from Gaul at the head of a considerable force. Seve- ral engagements ensued ; but although the Britons fought courageously, the advantage was generally on the side of their assailants. The com- mander-in-chief of the British forces in this war, was the famous Carac- tacus, one of the successors of Cassibelaunus in the sovereignty of the Trinobantes. The following year, the emperor himself joined his lieu- tenant; and, after his arrival, the war was prosecuted with so much vigour, that in the course of a few weeks all resistance m the part of the natives was almost at an end. Claudius then returned to Rome, leaving Plautius to maintain and extend the conquests of the imperial arms. That general is said to have fought thirty pitched battles witli the Britons before he was recalled in the year 50. Only a very small part of the country, however, had yet been subjugated, or even (Altered, by the Roman troops Plautius was succeeded by Ostorius Scapula, TO FIRST PERIOD. in the first year of whose government, the people inhabitingr a lar^^e district of country to the north of the Tiianies, headed by Caractacu-s. a^ain took up arms, with the determination, if possible, to expel the invaders. But the result was the same as on former occasions; tiie in- surgents were defeated with great loss, and Caractacus himself, with his wife and children, fell into the hands of the victors. This unfortu- nate ])rince was sent to Rome, where the multitude of that proud capi- tal had the gratification of beholding him led in chains, along with his family, to the feet of their emperor, although not that of exulting over his drooping aspect or dejected air. Caractacus, even in captivity, did not forget what he had been, but bore himself still with the dignity o' a king, and addressed the emperor in a short oration — which Tacitus has preserved — full of philosophy and noble sentiment. Nor did Clau- dius show himself incapable of appreciating the demeanour of his illus- trious prisoner. He immediately ordered the badges of servitude to be removed from the persons of the British prince and his unhappy com- panions. Meanwhile, in Britain, the still unsubdued spirit of the people opposed a formidable barrier to the further progress of their invaders, and even made it necessary for Ostorius to employ all his skill and vigilance in order to retain the ground of which he was already in i)os- h-ession. In the year 53, that general died of vexation, it is said, at the little impression he wsis able to make on his barbarian enemies. He was succeeded by Aulus Didius, under whom, and his successor Vera- nius, the war wa.^ carried on for about five years longer, without any decided success. In the year .^8, Suetonius Paulinus arrived to assume the govern- ment. He immediately resorted to much stronger measures than had been ventured upon by his predecessors, and having made himself mjis- ter of the sacred island of Mona — now Anglesey — endeavoured to strike terror into the natives by the relentless destruction of their al- tars and their consecrated groves. The effect of this severity was, pro- bably, only to kindle in their hearts a keener indignation than ever against the insolent invaders of their country. While they were in this mood, an incident occurred which at once exasperated them to the highest pitch of fuiy. This was the brutal usage inflicted upon Boadi- cea, the widow of one of their princes, Prasutagus, king of the Iceni, by the officers of the Roman emperor, who seized upon the whole pro- perty of the deceased chief, under the pretence that he had left it to their master by his wife. Prasutagus, in fact, had, at the time of his- death, been in alliance with the Romans, and had left the one half ol what he possessed to the emperor, and the other to his daughters. The rights of the latter, however, were entirely disregarded by tin? rapacious foreigners. Boadicea, a bold and high-minded woman, re- monstrated with spirit ; but her courage only brought down upon her- self and her children additional and more cruel injuries. A general attack by the enraged Britons, upon all the Roman settlements, was the immediate consequence; and such was the sanguinary impetuosity with which this grand explosion of national vengeance was directed, that seventy or eighty thousand of the unfortunate Romans, of every age and sex, are asserted to have fallen, almost without resistance, un. der the swords of their merciless assailants. But this terriljle massacre was destined to be soon as terribly expiated. The Roman general HISTORICAl rNTRODUCTION hastening back from Mona, without losing a moment, proceeded tc meet the insurgents, Avho were drawn up not far from London, to tht number of a hundred thousand, under the command of Boadicea. A battle ensued, in Avhich the Britons were routed with immense slaugh- ter. Tacitus says that eighty thousand of them were slain. Boadicea herself only escaped falling into the hands of the victors, by swallowing poison.^ This was the last great effort which the South Britons made to recover their liberty. Paulinus was recalled two years afterAvards — in the year 62 — and was followed in the government by Petroniu-- Turpilianus, under whom, and his several immediate successors, no- thing memorable occurred. The true conqueror cf Britain arrived in the year 78, abou: the end of the reign of the emperor Vespasian, in the person of tlit- famous Julius Agricola. This able commander continued governor o, Britain for above six years, during which he gradually tbught his way almost to the northern extremity of the island, and if he did not actually subdue the whole country, at least carried to its utmost bor- ders, the fame and the terror of the Roman arms. It was in the year 84, in the course of what is called his 7th campaign, that Agricola encountered and defeated the Caledonian general, Galgacus, at the foot of the Grampians. Ten thousand of the Caledonians are said to have fallen in this action.^ Agricola, however, did not attempt to preserve the conquest of these remote wilds, but contented himself with en- deavouring to secure the southern part of the island, by building a series of forts along the narrow neck of land between the friths ot Forth and Clyde. Agricola Avas the great civilizer as Avell as the con- queror of Britain ; and wisely perceiving that the surest Avay of main- iaining the tranquillity and obedience of the neAvly vanquished pr vince Avas to inspire the inhabitants Avith a love for the arts as well as Avith a dread for the arms of Rome, he spared no pains to diffuse among them a knoAvledge of letters and the other blessings of an advanced state of social refinement.^ One of the consequences of this policy Avas to establish between the inhabitants of the southern and those of the northern part of the island, a separation much more complete than even that Avhich the fortified Avail that divided them Avould of itself have effected. They Avere separated from each other by a Avide dis- cordance in tastes, habits, manners, acquirements, in all that makes up the difference betAveen civilization and barbarism. The Caledonians, therefore, noAv began to look upon the Britons Avho resided Avithin the Roman province as equally with the Romans themselves their national enemies. The first irruption, hoAvever, which Ave read of as having been made by these unsubdued savages of the north, happened in the year 117, in the beginning of the reign of the emperor Adrian. ' Tac. 34—37.— Dio. Nic. apud Xiphil in Ner. p. 176. " Dio. has desciibeJ this British lieroine as a woman of lofty stature and severe countenance. Her yellow hair reached almost to the ground. She wore a plaited tunic of various colours, round hei waist a chain of gold, and over these a long mantle, p. 173." — Lingard. ' Tac. Agric. 24—38. ' '^ At his instigation the chieftains left their habitations in the forests, and repaired into the vicinity of the Roman stations. Tliere they leamed to admire the refinements of civilization and acquired a taste for improvement. The use of the Roman toga began to supersede that of the British mantle: houses, baths, temples, were built in the Roman fashion: children were instructed in the Roman language; and with the man- ners were adopted the vices of the Romans." — Ljncakd. TO FIRST rERIOD. Adrian liiTiisclf came over to repel this attaclc ; but. upon his arrival, instead of endeavouring to drive back tlie invaders of the province into their native wilds, he judged it more prudent to endeavour to render tiie province more defensible by contracting its limits ; and, according- ly, relinquishing altogether the northern part of it, he erected at its utmost boundary in that direction a rampart from the mouth of the Tvne to the Solway frith. This fortification — of which the traces are still very visible in many parts — was formed entirely of earth, and con- sisted principally of a mound and a ditch. Although of considerable strength, however, it was found insufficient to prevent tlie inroads ol r!ie Caledonians. They soon broke through it in various places. In the year 140, therefore, in the reign of Antoninus Pius, the Roman governor Lollius Urbicus resolved to reassume the possession of the part of the province which had been abandoned by Adrian, and for tliis purpose he again erected a very strong wall nearly on the line of the series of forts originally built by Agricola. This wall — the same of which the remains are' still popularly known by the name of Grahams Dike — was built of turf on a foundation of stone, and was four yards in breadth. On the north side of it was a very wide ditch, and on the south a magnificent military way. This fortification ap- pears to have effectually barred out the Caledonians for many years. But at last in the year 205, in the reign of the emperor Severus, they renewed their incursions. Two years after, Severus himself, accom- panied by his two sons, Caracalla and Geta, came over to repel the bar- barians ; and, in order to put an end for ever to their troublesome hostility, ae resolved if possible to effect tlie subjugation of the whole island. He did accordingly succeed in penetrating to its northern extremity ; but having lost the immense number of fifty thousand men in the expedition, lie abandoned his design of conquest, and contented himself with raising a new wall of freestone along the line of Adrian's earthen rampart between the Tyne and the Solway, thus contracting the limits of the province instead of enlarging them as he had originally intended. This wall — of which fi-agments still remain — appears to have been about eight feet thick and about twelve in height. It Avas fortified along its whole length by a series of towers disposed at equal distances. Shortly after its completion Severus died at York, on which his two sons, who succeeded him, both returned to Rome. The history of Britain for more than a century and a half after this time merges in that of the empire of which it formed a part. We cannot here attempt to detail the disputes and commotions which are recorded to have taken place among the Roman soldiery, although the contest for the dignity of Master of the world M'as sometimes fought and decided in this distant dependency. Meanwhile, however, the Roman occupation of South Britain was gradually changing the aspect of the country as well as the manners and the minds of the inhabitants. Tlie wilderness and the untilled desert were every where giving place to towns and cultivated fields. About, the middle of the third centur\-, the planting of vines is said to have been introduced under the auspices of the emperor Probus. This long course of quiet and prosperity, however, was at length interrupted about the year 364, in the reign of Valentinian I., by the renewed attac.-ks of the northern barbarians ; but after a war which lasted for some years they were at last driven back B to their native wiids, by Theodosius — father of the emperor of tlic same name — who then erected a new line of forts between the friths of Forth and Clyde, and gave the name of the province of Valentia to the territory which he thus added to the Roman colony. In the year 393, died the emperor Theodosius, on which the western empire passed into the hands of his youngest son, Honorius, a boy of eleven years of age. From this moment the decline of the Roman glory was rapid and almost uninterrupted. The various Gothic tribes who inhabited tlie regions beyond the Danube, the extensive forests of Germany, and the more northern coasts of Scandinavia, liad already for many years pressed with continually increasing strength upon the frontiers of the Roman world. After the accession of Hono- rius, their attacks were made with much more system and determina- tion than ever ; and notwithstanding the able exertions of his minister and general Stilicho, which for some time succeeded in averting the catastrophe, it became every day more evident that the empire ol the Ceesars was fast approaching its dissolution. While the signs of debility and a coming change were manifesting themselves ever}^ where else, the aspect of affairs in Britain also presented similar indi- cations. The native youth had for a long time past been drawn in great numbers from the island, as soon as they became of military age, to serve in the legions that were employed in other parts of the empire ; and now even the troops forming the usual and the sole protecting force of the province, were suddenly recalled to repel the inroads of the barbarians from Gaul and Italy itself. This happened about the commencement of the fifth century. On the departure of the Roman soldiery, the Scots and Picts almost immediately renewed their attacks upon South Britain. A season of great misery followed to the inhabi- tants of tliat unhappy province. It was in the year 410, according to the best historians,* that the Romans took their final leave of the island. The southern part of it was now again left as free as the northern had always been ; but, for the present crisis, the arts and social refinements which the South Britons had learned from their civilized conquerors, formed but a valueless substitute for the martial skill and ardour which long habits of peace had lulled asleep, and for the strength of the nation which had been so lavishly wasted in foreign wars. Feeble and defenceless as they were, they felt the removal of the Roman yoke to be in reality not their liberation but their abandonment. We shall not repeat here the narrative of events which we find in the British historian Gildas, disproved as many of the statements of that writer are by their irreconcilable contradiction to the ascertained chronology of tliose times. The celebrated letter of the miserable Britons to the Roman commander ^tius, in which they are made to say, " We know not wliich way to turn us ; the barbarians drive us to tlie sea, and the sea forces us back to tlie barbarians," is probably the composition of that dcclaimer himself. We need not doubt, however, that tliere is much truth in his general picture of the state of perplexity and terror to which his countrymen were now reduced. Harassed as tliey were by their northern enemies, they were at the same time tori) • Se<< Turner's Aiifilo-Saxons, Hook I. chap. 9. TO FIRST PERIOD. I ^ to pieces by distractions which broice out among themselves, excited !is it would seem, by the contentions of several conspctitors for the supreme power. At last, however, tLd sovereignty at least of all the southern and principal regions, appears to have been acquired by Gwrtheyni, or Wrtheyrn, or, as as we shall take the liberty of calling him after Geoffrey of Monmouth, Vortigern. The accession of Vorti- irern, who had been previously prince of the Daninonii, or inhabitants of Devon and Cornwall, to the monarchy of England, is dated in the year 445. For a long time before even the termination of the Roman dominion in Britain, the east coast of the island had been infested by bands oi those famous pirates, who, under the name of Saxons, had I'rom the termination of the third century made a principal figure among the barbarian powers of the North The original seat of the Saxons comprehended the three small islands now denominated North Strandt, Busen, and Heligoland, near the mouth of the Elbe, witii a small part of the opposite continent of Jutland.^ By the time of which we now speak, however, the confederacy of the Saxons, the Jutes, and the Angles, had reduced under their subjection, the whole of the large tract of country lying between the Elbe and the Rhine. The Jutes— a word which seems to be really the same with the term Getce^ or Goths — originally inhabited that southern portion of Jutland which now forms the dutchy of Sleswick ; and the possessions of the Angles consisted properly of the district of Anglen in the same dutcliy These three nations, or tribes, however, — all equally Goths by descent ,— were, as we have just intimated, again so completely united by tlie middle of the fifth century, as to be generally looked upon as forming only one people or political confederacy. In their descents upon the British coast, even when it was guarded by the military force of Rome, parties of these adventurous plunderers had repeatedly spread the greatest alarm and devastation. Hitherto, however, they had not at- tempted to effect any settlement in the country ; but perceiving the state of weakness and confusion to which it was reduced on its aban- donment by the Romans, it is not unlikely that some of their leaders- may now have began to contemplate its conquest and permanent occu pation. Meanwhile, they were encouraged to attempt the executior of this project by what appears to have been quite a fortuitous event, which unexpectedly brought them into intimate connexion with the existing government of the Britons. In the year 449, a body of Saxons, or more properly of Jutes, amounting, it is supposed, to not more than three hundred men, and conducted by two brothers, Hengist and Horsa, arrived in three ves- sels at the port of EbbsHeet, now an inland spot at some distance from the sea, but then close to the estuary of the Wantsum, the river — now reduced to a brook — which divided the isle of Thanet from the main- land of Kent. At this moment, Vortigern and his chiefs or nobles happened to be assembled in council to consider what should be done to repel the Scots and other enemies by whom the country was attacked and ravaged. On the arrival of the Saxons being announcetl, some one proposed that application should be made to these warlike strangers * Cluver. Ant. Ger. III. 12 HISTORICAL INTRODUCTION to lend their aid, on certain conditions, in driving back tlie invaders In the state of distress, and almost of despair, to which they were re- duced, the assembly resolved upon the adoption of this humiliating and withal hazardous expedient, as the only course that seemed to present a chance of saving the country. Negotiations were accord- ingly opened ; and an arrangement was soon concluded by which the Saxons agreed to assist with their best endeavours, in the service to which their aid was required, on condition of receiving food and cloth- ing, and being permitted in the meantime to fix their station in the isle of Thanet. It does not appear that any permanent occupation by the foreigners, even of that portion of territory, was in the first in- stance, either agreed to or dreamed of by the unsuspecting Britons. The more wary Saxons, however, no doubt saw more clearly the ad- vantage which they might derive from thus obtaining a footing in tlie country. In the meantime, however, they proceeded without loss of time to perform their engagement, and having encountered the forces of the Scots and Picts, they soon succeeded in defeatmg and dispersing them. Such, according to the most trustworthy accounts that have come down to us, was the commencement of the Saxon conquest of Britain, The course of the events that immediately followed has been very im- perfectly recorded. It appears however, that the Saxon leaders, on the plausible pretence that the northern tribes, although driven away for the present, would, in all likelihood, soon resume their inroads, not only obtained permission to remain for some time longer in the island, but even prevailed upon Vortige>n and his counsellors, to allow them to call over from time to time additional bands of their countrymen to enable them the more effectually to repel these invaders. In this way, Hengist is said to have augmented the forces under his command, first by the importation of as many more of his countrymen as filled seven- teen cyules, or yawls, one of which conveyed his daughter, Rowena, and some time after by another band, occupying forty such vessels, and conducted by his eldest son, iEsca. Most of our readers are probably familiar with the stor}' — which rests, however, merely on the authority of Nennius, a writer who does not appear to have flourished till long after this period — of the feast given by Hengist to Vortigern, at which the latter was so much captivated by the charms of Rowena, that he requested her of her father, to be his wife, — a demand which, it is affirmed, was not assented to by the Saxon leader, until he had prevailed upon the British monarch to make over to him and Horsa, the whole of Kent. Whatever truth there may be in this tradition, it is certain tliat after the Saxons ha-d been for some time in the country, they began to be looked upon by the natives with a suspicion and )ealousy which rapidly grew into open hostility. The strangers on being "required to leave the country, now avowed frankly their inten- tion of remaining where they were. A war began in consequence, between tlie two parties, when the unscrupulous Saxons immediately formed an alliance with those very Picts and Scots whom they had been originally hired to oppose. They are said to have been also assisted by the neutrality at least, if not by the active co-operation of Vortigern, whose infatuated passion for Rowena had utterly extinguished in his hosoin alike all attachment to his country and all sense of honour. (juortemir, or Vortinier, however, the son of the unhappy inoiiurch, oH'ered himself to his countrymen in this emergency as tlieir leader. Under his conduct the Britons fought numerous battles with the Saxons. The scene of one of tiie most famous of tliesc engagements, wtis at Ailesford in Kent. Here, Horsa fell on the side of the Saxons, and Categirn, the brother of Vortimer, on that of the Britcns. An- other great battle was fought at a place called Stonar, on the coast fronting France ; and such was the success of the Britons on this occa- sion, that the whole of the Saxons who escaped from the slaughter are asserted to have immediately taken to their ships and returned to the continent.'^ This was in the year 4.35. The fugitives, however, very soon returned in greater force than ever. Nennius relates that soon after his arrival, Hengist pretended to sue for peace, and prevailed upon a grc^at many of the British chiefs, with Vortigern at their head, to meet him at a banquet which he gave in celebration of the reconciliation ol the two nations, when, on his uttering a preconcerted exclamation, the Saxons who were present suddenly drew forth their short swords wiiich they had brought with them concealed under their cloaks, and instant- ly massacred all their guests with the exception of the British king. It seems to have been now that the Saxon leader for the first time as- sumed the title of king of Kent. Another great battle was soon after this fought at Crayfbrd, which terminated in the complete defeat of the Britons, and lefl Hengist for a long time in undisturbed possession of his new kingdom. Although the native powers some years after- wards renewed the contest, they were never able to make any impres- sion upon the band of foreigners who had thus established tliemselves m one of the fairest provinces of the island. It was a considerable space of time before the success of Hengist and his followers tempted any others of the Saxon chiefs to try their for- tunes in the same path of adventure. The next who arrived was Ella, also as \vell as Hengist a descendant of the celebrated Woden, or Odin, the leader under whose conduct the Saxons believed that their ances- tors had originally come to Europe from the East. Ella landed with his three sons at a port in Sussex in the year 477. Although all his men were contained in three ships, he completely put to flight the British forces by whom he was attacked ; and succeeded in establishing himself so firmly in the country that it was afterwards found impossible to dislodge him. In this manner was founded the kingdom of Sussex. The third body of Saxon invaders arrived in the year 495, under the command of Cerdic, another chief who likewise boasted of being sprung from the great patriarch of his nation. Cerdic came with five ships ; and is generally supposed to have made his descent at Yarmouth. This chief turned out by far the most formidable opponent the Britons had yet had to encounter. His predecessors had contented themselves with endeavouring to secure possession each of the separate district or corner of the land on which he happened to have first set his foot ; but Cerdic seemed to contemplate notliing less than the entire conquest of the country. We know but little of his earlier operations ; but in tne • Xeiinius, c. 46. Tlie Saxon annalist claims the honour of this fight for his conn- iiynieii, iiiui says that the Britons in consequence retired froHi Ken(. Chron. Sax. 13. — Balteley tliinivs that this conflict toolt phice at Stone-enci in tlie south corner of Ki:iii Aniiq. Hut. 19. 14 HISTORICAL INTEODUCIION year 501, it is stated, that, having received an augmentation to hie forces by the arrival of two ships at Portsmouth, under the command of Porta — who gave his name to the place — he proceeded to drive the Britons from the whole of the southern part of the island. This at- tempt gave rise to a long and bloody war, which was not brought to a termination during the lifetime of Cerdic, nor till the unhappy Britons had been completely subdued. The accounts, however, which have come down to us of this protracted struggle, are even more than usually obscure, imperfect, and mixed with fable. Cerdic is stated to have made himself master of Hampshire, and to have there established what was afterwards called the kingdom of the West Saxons, by the year 519. The greatest battle which is mentioned as having taken place up to ;his time, was one which was fought at Chardford in Hampshire in tlie year 508, when the British king, Natanleod — whom some suppose to be the same with Ambrosius, the successor of Vortigern — was left dead on the field, with five thousand of his followers. The commander of the British forces in most of the engagements which took place for a long period after this, was the famous Arthur, King or Prince ol Cornwall, who, if we are to believe the common accounts, however, commenced his military career under Ambrosius, in the year 466, when he was yet a boy of fourteen. His history has been so over- laid with the marvellous, that many modern writers, so far from credit- ing the old accounts of his martial exploits, have even refused to be- lieve in his existence. Little doubt, however, is now entertained that he was a real personage ; and that he acted an important part in this last protracted and arduous struggle, sustained by his countrymen in defence of their expiring liberties and independence. But we cannot attempt in this place to go over the long detail of his military exploits, as they have been handed down to us by the Welsh bards, and other writers who have affected to record his history. His life, according to the common accounts, was protracted to the great extent of ninety years, when he was at last, in the year 542, mortally w^ounded in a battle, fought near Camelford, against the Saxons Jissisted by his nephew, Modred.'' Before this, however, his great antagonist, Cerdic, had also been removed from the scene of strife and blood. The death of that monarch took place in the year 534, Avhen he was suc- ceeded by his son Cynric. Cynric continued the war with the same perseverance and ability which had been displayed by his father, and defeated the Britons in a succession of engagements with great slaugh- ter. The consequence of these successes was the enlargement of the kingdom of Wessex by the annexation to the county of Hampshire, originally conquered by Cerdic, of the territory now forming the ad- joining counties of Wiltshire, Oxfordshire, and Buckinghamshire Cynric was succeeded in the year 560 by his eldest son Cealwin, near- ly the whole of whose reign was likewise spent in warring with the of' ten-beaten, but still unvanquished Britons. Cealwin, however, ex- tended his dominions over Gloucestershire and a part of Somerset- shire, after which measure of success he seems to have declined the at- tempt of pursuing his conquest farther into the interior. ' ijome writers place tliis bittile two years later. Tlie Red bock of Hcrgest tlates ii in 576. TO FIKST TErjOD. 15 Meanwhile, liowevcr, other bands of adventurers from Germany hail long ere this fallowed the first invaders, and successively wrested from the unfortunate Britons other portions of their country. The kingdom of East Anglia was founded in the year 527 by one of these bands ; that of Essex was established by another of them about the year 530. This kingdom eventually comprehended the county of Middlesex, and consecjuently the town of London, within its bounds In the year 547, Ida, another descendant of Woden, accompanied by his twelve sons, and having under his conmiand forty vessels, all filled by warriors of the nation of the Angles, made a descent upon the west immediately to the moutli of the Humber ; and the result of this at- tempt was the eventual establishment — although not until the natives had maintained a long and obstinate struggle with their invaders — of two additional kingdoms, the one called by the monkish historians, that of Deira, from the old British name Deifj/n, comprehending the country immediately to the north of the Humber, and the other that of Bernicia — as Latinized from the British term Bryncich — which appears to have extended as far as to the Forth, one of its principal towns bearing the name of Eidyn, and being supposed to be the ori- ginal of the present Edinburgh. By the year 560, therefore, seven different monarchies had been formed in Britain by these German tribes, namely, that of Kent by the Jutes, those of Sussex, Wessex, and Essex by the Saxons, and those of East Anglia, Bernicia, and Deira by the Angles, To these were added, about the year 686, an eighth, called the kingdom of Mercia, also founded by the Angles, and comprehending nearly the whole of the heart of the kingdom. These states formed together what has been designated the Anglo-Saxon Octarchy, or more commonly, though not so correctly, the Anglo-Saxon Heptarchy, from the custom of speaking of Deira and Bernicia under the single appellation of the kingdom of Northumberland. The conquest (jf South Britain by the Jutes, Angles, and Saxons, it appears from what has been stated, was not effected until afler one of the most obstinate and protracted struggles recorded in history. The war lasted indeed, almost without intermission, from the middle of the fifth to the middle of the seventh century ; and was occasionally re- newed even down to so late a date as the beginning of the ninth. We cannot, however, in such an abstract as the present, enter into any minute detail of the events of this long contest. It is sufficient to state, that although the Britons sometimes succeeded in winning a battle, or gaining some other advantage, the tide of success was, upon the whole, w^ith their opponents, who gradually dispossessed the old inhabitants of South Britain of all the territory occupied by their an- cestors, with the exception of the mountainous and secluded district now called Wales, and formerly Welshland, that is, the land of the WiUse, or Foreigners, a Teutonic term identical in meaning and etymology with the Celtic Gael. Even after they had been driven into this mere corner of their former broad domains, the Cymri — the name by wliich they have always called themselves — seem to have been forced eventually, and before they were allowed to remain undisturbed in their fastnesses, to acknowledge the sovereignty of their Saxon conquerors. Not only Egbert the Great, but others of the Saxon kings, long before the time of Echyard I., who finally added the principality to the English croMii, dad certainly compelled the inhabitants of Wales, as well a^ of the rest of England, at least to profess allegiance to them as the lords para- mount of the whole country from the sea to the Forth. There is not a more intricate maze in history than that formed by the transactions of the different Saxon states established in Britain. The annals which have come down to us of several of these petty king- doms do not furnish us even with an unbroken succession of the so- vereigns ; and even where the narrative is more full, inexplicable ob- scurities or contradictions meet us in almost every page. Looking to these considei'ations, and also to the little interest for the general reader attaching to the revolutions of a mob of monarchies, the traces of the separate existence of which are now, for the most part, so utterly de- faced, we shall not attempt here either to pursue with tedious particu- larity the thread of the history of each, or to chronicle the weaiy series of quarrels and broils in which tliey were almost incessantly engaged with one another. We must limit oui'selves to the mere outline of this thick crowd of events. And for that purpose, our best plan will be to follow the sovereign, or at least the ascendant authority, as it transfer- red itself from one to another of the rival powers. For it is important to observe — although this has been too much overlooked 1)y most of our historians — -that from the tirst establishment of the Saxons in Great Britain, there was always some one of the contemporary rulers who was accounted the chief over the others, — the Bretwalda, as he was called, or emperor of Britain, as the term may be translated. The Bretwalda was looked upon as the true representative or successor ol the ancient British monarchs, — as occupying, in fact, the place formerly held by Vortigern and his descendants subsequently to the abandon- ment of the country by the Romans. The autho"ity exercised by this nominal sovereign was often indeed, practically, not much felt ; he stood somewhat in the same position in which the emperor of Germany used to stand to the electors of the empire, — having little or no power, for instance, to interfere in the internal affairs of the several subordinate states, or even to prevent them from going to war with each other. But yet, although in point of fact the dignity seems to have been deemed, by those who acknowledgea, if not always by him who held it, little more than titular, it at least implied that the j^articular state by the sovereign of which it was borne, was, for the time, more power- ful than any of its neighbours ; and by accompanying its movements, therefore, as it passed from one sceptre to another, we shall obtain a view cf the rise and fall, in succession, of each of the principal states.^ According to Mr Palgrave,^ Ella, who, as already mentioned, ar- rived in the island in the year 477, and afterwards founded the king- dom of the South Saxons — comprehending the two modern counties ol Sussex and Surrey — was the first Bretwalda. In this capacity, after the death of Hengist, he commanded the armies of his countrymen in their united contest with the Britons. Ella died in 514, and was suc- ceeded by his son, Cissa, who is said to have reigned for the long pe- riod of seventy-six years. His death is placed in the year 390, which, ' We have the high authority of Lingard for our nuKle of treating this poriiun of oiu eoitjilry's ar.Juils, • History of Enpiaiid. vol. i. p 77. TO FIRST PERIOD. 17 as he IS statid to have como over from Germany witli his father, would make him to have lived at least above 115 years ; but there is doul>t- less some error in this aecount. On the death of Cissa, who left no children, his kingdom was seized by Ceawlin, king of Wessex, the son of Cenric, and grandson of Cerdic ; and the South Saxons, though they often attempted to regain their independence, were never afterwards able to emancipate themselves from the yoke of their conqueror and his descendants. Even before he had thus taken possession of the king- dom of Ella, Ceawlin had assumed his title of Bretwalda, and had compelled the other princes to recognise his supremacy. His violent usurpation of the throne of Sussex, however, at last provoked the for- mation of a confederacy against him, and, being defeated in 593, in a great battle fought at Wansdike, in Wiltshire, he died soon after. His nephew, Ceolric, however, whom he had made viceroy of Sussex, hav- ing joined the league against him, contrived in this way to be allowed to retain possession both of that conquest and of the kingdom of Wes- sex, to which he succeeded by inheritance. But Ethelbert, king of Kent, a very able prince, and wlio had been the leader of the opposi- tion against Ceawlin, was appointed to the dignity of Bretwalda. Ethel- bert was the great grandson of ^sca, the son of Hengist, from whom the kings of Kent were usually denominated jEscingus. His supremacy as Bretwalda, was acknowledged by all the states except that of North - umbria, the independence of which he never succeeded in subduing. But on the death, in 594, of Cridda, the first king of Mercia, Ethel- bert, acting upon his pretended right, as lord paramount, seized upon that kingdom. He soon after, however, thought proper, on perceiv- ing the general dissatisfaction his conduct had excited, to restore his patrimony to Wibba, Cridda's son, or rather, as it would appear, to ap- point the young man govei'nor or lieutenant of what had been his fa- ther's dominions. Ethelbert married Bertha, daughter of Charibert, king of France ; and it was through means of this princess that Chris- tianity M'as first introduced among the Anglo-Saxons. She would not consent to give her hand to Ethelbert until he had promised to allow her the free exercise of her own religion, and the liberty of brmging over with her for that purpose a certain number of ecclesiastics, and maintaining them in her household. But Bertha, who appears to have been a woman very superior to her age, had something more in view, when she stipulated for this arrangement, than merely the sustenance of her own faith : she hoped also to convert her heathen husband. Ani- mated by this pious resolution, she spared no pains to acquire an ascendancy over the rude nature of Ethelbert, and soon succeeded b}' her virtues and her devotedness in attaching him to her by the most cordial esteem and affection. It is supposed that, having thus so far prepared the way. Bertha now applied to Pope Gregory I. to send over a, mission to Britain. The missionaries, accordingly, consisting ol forty Benedictine monks, headed by Austin, or Augustine, as abbot, arrived in the year 597, in the isle of Tiianet, in the dominions ol Ethelbert. That king, on the intercession of his wife, soon after per- mitted them to take up their residence in the city of Canterbury, his capital, and, in the course of about a year, consented to receive baj)- tism at their hands. His conduct was imitated by large numbers of liis subjects ; and from this time the new religion spread gradually ove"" I c 18 HISTORICAL INTRODUCTION all the other Anglo-Saxon kingdoms. The monks, in a short time, be- gan to build a cathedral at Canterbury, as well as other religious edi- Hoes in other parts ; and eventually, as is well known, on the success which had attended the enterprize being made known to Gregory, Au- gustine was appointed archbishop of Canterbury and primate of Eng- land. But to return to the succession of the Bretwaldas. Ethelbert, hav- ing died in 616, after a reign of fifty -two years, was succeeded by his son Eadbald, a prince lost in indolence and dissoluteness, who soon let his father's imperial sceptre drop from his hands. The dignity of which he had shown himself to be unworthy was, by unanimous consent, be- stowed upon Redwald, king of East Anglia, grandson of UfFa, the founder of that monarchy, who had just raised himself to the highest distinction as a warrior by his defeat of Adelfrid, king of Northumbria. Adelfrid, who was the grandson of Ida, and originally king of Bernicia only, had in 588, on the death of Ella, king of Deira, whose daughter Acca he had married, taken possession of the throne of the latter principality also, and united the two states under the name of North- umbria, although Ella had left an infant son. This son, named Ed- win, having escaped from the power of the usurper, wandered for a long time from one part of the country to another in quest of a secure place of retreat, till at last, about the year 615, he was generously re- ceived at the court of Redwald. Adelfrid, however, who, as we have mentioned above, had all along set at defiance even the otherwise uni- versally acknowledged supremacy of Ethelbert, was of too arrogant and domineering a spirit to brook that his neighbour, the East Anglian king, should dare to shelter the man whom he wished to destroy ; and it was not long before he sent a message to Redwald demanding the surrender of the fugitive. It is said that Redwald, naturally averse to expose his dominions to the ravages of a war, for some time hesitated, and felt half-inclined at least to dismiss Edwin from his court and king- dom, but at last the nobler feelings of his nature prevailed, and he re- solved to dare the worst that might happen rather than commit an act of cruelty and inhospitality. He sent back Adelfrid's ambassadors, ac- cordingly, with a flat refusal of their master's suit. At the same time, with admirable prudence and decision, he took his measures in con- formity with the situation in which he had placed himself, and know- ing the imperious temper of the king of Northumbria, and how certain it was that he would have immediately to experience his hostility, he determined to collect his own forces, and, placing himself at their head, to march at once against the enemy instead of waiting till he should be liimself attacked. The consequence was, that a great battle took place near the river I del, in Nottinghamshire, in which Adelfrid was slain, and his army completely put to flight. On this occasion one of the divisions of Redwald's forces was led on by his eldest son, Regner, who, having advanced with too great impetuosity, lost his life in the com- mencement of the battle. Another was commanded by Edwin, who also greatly distinguished himself, and was more fortunate in the meed which he reaped by his courage. With extraordinary generosity Red- wald, though his conquest had cost him so dear, declined to appro- priate any of its advantages, and not only reinstated Edwin on the throne of his father, but aUowed him also to retain Adelfrid's kingdom TO FIRST rERTOD. !•' of IJernicia, v/hich, under that usurper, had been so long united with Deira. Tims, from the condition of a friendless and homeless wander- er, to which he had been accustomed for so many years, xvas the son of king Ella suddenly elevated to a much greater heigiit of dignity and power than that from which he had been cast down. But the possession of the two thrones of Nortliumbria was not all that fortune had in store for Edwin. Redwald died in (524, and was succeeded in the kingdom of East Anglia by his son Eorpwald, who was, however, of fiir too feeble a character to be able to retain his fa- ther's dignity of Bretwalda. That supreme oHice was immediately seized upon by the king of Nortluunbria ; and so powerful were his claims considered to be by his brother-sovereigns, that none of them ventured to offer him any opposition, except the two brothers Cynegils and Cuichelm, the sons of Ceolric, who then reigned conjointly in Wes- sex, and whose ambition inspired them to make an attempt to regain for themselves the dignity which had been held by their ancestor, Ceawlin. But in the contest which they waged for this purpose, tliey were completely defeated by Edwin, whose power was only the more consolidated by the proof to which it had thus been put. The new Bretwalda, indeed, soon began to manifest a determination to extend his authority far beyond the bounds witliin which his predecessors had been wont to confine themselves. It is said that he even compelled the Welsh to acknowledge his sovereignty and to pay him tribute; and as for the other Anglo-Saxon kings, he treated them rather as his vas- sals than as fellow-monarchs. The year after his assumption of the title of Bretwalda, he asked in marriage Ethelburga, the sister of Ead- bald, king of Kent, and the daughter of Ethelbert and Bertha of France. Ethelburga, like her mother, was a zealous Christian, and the consequence of her marriage with Edwin was the speedy conver- sion both of that king and of the greater number of his subjects. Af- ter this, Edwin reigned for about eight years in undisturbed tranquil- lity; and so admirable was the order which he introducefl into his dominions, that it is said a child might have run over Northumberland with a purse of gold in his hand without any risk of being robbed. Most of the other kings also seem, in fact, to have considered them- selves as the dependents of the powerful sovereign of Northumbria. At last, however, in the year 633, Penda, king of Mercia, the son of VVibba, whom we have already' mentioned, determined to take up arms, and to endeavour to free himself and his dominions from what he re- garded as a state of disgraceful bondage. For this purpose he entered into a league with Cadwallader, king of Wales, who also felt deeplj' indignant at the tribute imposed upon his country by the Saxon mon- arch. The two allies accordingly having collected their forces, met those of Edwin, who were much fewer in number, at Hatfield, in York- shire, where a furious and bloody battle took place, in which both the king of Northumbria and his eldest son, Osfrid, were slain, and their army completely routed. The consequence was the reduction ol Northumbria to the condition of a conquered province, and the eleva- tion of Penda to the vacant dignity of Bretwalda. Thus terminated the eventful life of Edwin, in the forty-eighth year of his age. Hi.>i only other surviving son, Eadfrid, was soon afterwards murdered by ord• Ina in the throne of Essex, all belonged to a younger branch of thi posterity of Cenric. Of these, the last was Brithric, who married Eadburga the daughter of Offa. The line, however, of Keaulin, the eldest son of Cenric, was still unextinguished ; and, as its rej^resenta- tive, Egbert was the true heir to the throne. Even during the life- time of Brithric, this prince, who it appears had been permitted to remain in the kingdom, had so much ingratiated himself with the peo- ple of Wessex as to have occasioned considerable jealousy in the breast of the reigning sovereign. Fearing the consequences, Egbert fled in the first instance to the court of the king of Mercia ; but Brithric having immediately requested Offa to deliver him up, he made his escape to France. Here the royal fugitive was very graciously received by the emperor Charlemagne ; and at his court he remained till the death of Brithric, who, about the year 800, M'as poisoned by his pro- fligate queen. The history of this woman, we may remark by the bye, is one of the romances of real life. The daughter of one of the most powerful monarchs of that time, she was brought up in the bosom of luxury and indulgence ; she then for a considerable number of years occupied a throne herself; from this high estate she precipitated her- self by the crime we have mentioned ; on her guilt being detected she fled from the indignation of the people to the court of her father's friend, the emperor of France ; Charlemagne, from regard to Offa, not only sheltered her, but placed her in a rich abbey as its abbess ; but even in this quiet retreat her conduct was so depraved that after a short time it was found neccesary to dismiss her ; and she spent her last days a beggar in tlie streets of Pavia! To return, however, to Egbert: im- mediately on the death of Brithric, the West Saxons resolved to otter the crown to the legitimate heir of their ancient princes, and Egbert, accordingly, being recalled, mounted the throne. It would seem that from the very commencement of his reign this politic prince, whose natural abilities had no doubt received a better education at the French court than they could have had at home, devoted himself to making preparations for the great design which he eventually executed. He was, it is said, especially assiduous in training his subjects to the use of arms, initiating them probably in various new evolutions and lessons of military skill which he had learned abroad. The first warlike measures, however, in which he actually engaged were directed not against any of his Saxon neighbours, but against the Britons of Corn- vv;dL These he very soon subdued, and added the disti'ict which they TO FIRST PERIOD. "Jli lulinbited to his hereditary dominions. It was probablj- this important (•.] ALFIIKD. .13 ciuced, and to establisli sucli institutions as might secure llic future prosperity of the kingdom. It is generally allowed that Englishmen are indebted to this illustri- ous monarch, if not for the contrivance and first introduction, at any rate for the restoration and improvement, of several of their most valu- able still existing safeguards of liberty and order. He did not indeed establish a representative government ; but he ordered that the great council of the nation — the only species of legislative assembly suitable to the circumstances of the country in that age — should nu^'t at least twice eveiy year, thus providing a parliamentary, if not a popular clieck of considerable importance upon his own authority and that of his succes- sors. The general application of trial by jury to civil and criminal cases is also thought to be due to Alfred.'' The common law is sup- posed to be founded principally on fhe regulations for the punishment of offences and the dispensing of justice which he promulgated. He settled the boundaries of the parishes, hundreds, and counties into which England still continues to be divided, and accomplished a sur- vey of the whole, the results of which he caused to be recorded in what was called the Book of Winchester, the foundation of the famous Doomsday Book, compiled two centuries afterwards by the Conqueror.** By an ingeniously arranged system of police also, he placed every man in his dominions as it were under his eye, so that it is said offences against property and the public peace became eventually almost un- known, and the king was wont, by way of putting the sovereignty of the laws to the proof, even to expose articles of gold on the highways without any one daring to touch them.'^ He founded new towns in dif- ferent parts of the kingdom, and restored many of the old ones which had fallen into decay. London especially, which, when he came to the throne, was in the possession of the Danes, he rebuilt, extended, and chose as his principal residence and the seat of government. To Alfred, likewise, England is indebted for the beginning of her naval greatness, — ^that arm of her national power which is at once the strongest tor good and the weakest for evil. Nor did this wise and patriotic king neglect the civilization any more than the defence and political independence of his country. He not only established schools for elementary instruction in most of the different great towns, but spared no pains or cost to bring back and re-establish among his people that higher learning which the recent dis- tractions had almost entirely banished. He was, according to some ac- counts, the founder of the university of Oxford ;^" and it seems probable that he fixed and endowed a seminary of some description or other on the site afterwards occupied by this famous scat of education. St> utterly had literature been extirpated from the land, that any one al- most but Alfred would have looked upon the attempt to restore it as an altogether hopeless and impossible enterprise. The very few learneii men — they do not appear to have been above three or tour in number ' See Spelman's Life of Alfred, p. 106.— Wilk. LL. Sax. ' Lug. Eflv. in nnvt'. et cap. 8. ' Maim, do Reg. IL 4. '" Asser, 52. — Sp-elinaii, 152. — Ilossii Hist. Reg. Aiigl. — The passaffe in Asserts, however, tliought to l)e spurious ; and in Wliitaker's Life of St Neot the reader- will find a strong array of argunienis against tlie probability of Alfred having found-.-d any university at Oxford. 34 POLITICAL SERIES. [Fiusi — who had survived the confusions and miseries to whicli the kingdom had so long been a prey, remained concealed and unheard of in remote religious retirements, which, naturally distrustful of the new-born and as yet unconfirmed tranquillity, hardly any temptation could prevail upon them to leave. Alfred, nevertheless, left no efforts untried to attract to his court these depositories of the light ; and his biographer, Asser, who was himself one of those whom he thus brought around him, has given us some very curious and illustrative details of the man- ner in which he was sought out and tempted from his monasteiy among the mountains of Wales by the good king.'^ It was under the tuition of Asser that Alfred first carried his own acquaintance with literature beyond the knowledge of his mother-tongue, and engaged in the study of Latin. He had already reached his thirty-ninth year ; but the time he had lost only spurred him to more zealous exertion, and he soon made such proficiency as to be able to read that language with ease. In his ardent and philanthropic mind, however, his new ac- quisition was not long permitted to remain a source of merely selfish gratification. He resolved that his people should have their share in his own advantages, and with this view he immediately set about the translation for public use of several of the works by which he had himself been most delighted, or which he conceived most likely to be generally serviceable.'^ The first work which he undertook appears to have been the Liber Pastoralis Curce of Pope Gregory, a treatise on ecclesiastical disci- pline, whicli he intended as a directory for the clergy. In an introduc- tory address, in the form of an epistle to the bishop of London, which he prefixed to his translation of this performance, he states that when he began his reign there was not, so far as he knew, one priest to the south of the Thames who understood the prayers of the common church service, or could in fact translate a sentence of Latin into English After this he either wrote or translated himself, or caused to be trans- lated, so many books, that we may consider him as not only having laid the foundations of a literature for his country, but as having cari'ied the superstructure to no ordinary height and extent.'^ Among his other versions from the Latin is one of Boethius's "Consolations of Philosophy," xvhich is in many respects rather an original work than a translation, :he author's text being often expanded, or for a time entirely departed from, in order tliat he may introduce new ideas and illustrations of his own, many of which are in the highest degree interesting from theii reference to the circumstances of his age, his country, and even of his personal history. In his version, in like nvMiner, of Orosius's Ancient History and Geography, he inserts irom his own pen a sketch of the German nations, as well as an account of a voyage towards the North Pole made by a Norwegian navigator, from whom he had himself re- ceived the details.'* His greatest work is his translation of Bede s Ec- " Amoiii; llie learned men whom Alfred thus drew around him were Plegmund avciibishop of Canterbury, Grinibald of St Omers, John of Saxony, and JoannesScoms Erigena. " " I have often wondered," says he, "that the illustrious scholars who had once flourished among the English, and who liad read so many foreign works, never tliounhl of transferring the most useful ii.io their own language." Praef. ad Past. p. 8Ju " See Bale's catalogue of Alfred's works, original and translated, in Cent, II. cap. '^■ '• Hakluyt, vol. I. p. 'i?&. PKnion.] EDWARD. 35 clesiastical History, a truly splendid monument of his literary zeal and industry. A greater still would have b(,'en the complete version of the Scriptures, which some wril;ers say he executed ; but it is by no means clearly ascertained that he really translated the whole Bible, or even any considerable portion of it.'^ We may well wonder how the necessary leisure for all tJiese literary exertions could be found by a monarch who, in the course of not a very long life, is recorded to have fought fifty six battles; and who, even \vhen no longer engaged among the ruder troubles of war, had so many public cares to occupy his time and thoughts. To add to all the otiier disad- vantages he had to struggle with, he is stated to have been attacked, ere he had" completed his twentieth year, with an agonizing internal disease, which, although it did not incapacitate him for the performance of any of his royal functions, tormented him so unremittingly as hardly to leave him an entire day's exemption from misery during the remainder of his life ; or if it ever, to use the affecting language of Asser, was through the mercy of God withdrawn from him for a day, or a night, or even a single hour, it would yet continue to make him wretched by the thought of the excruciating distress he would have to suffer when it returned. Alfred, who was, if ever any one was, literally the Father of his country, presiding over and directing the whole management of affairs, almost as if the people had been indeed his family, accomplished what he did chiefly by the golden rule of doing every thing at its own time. The method which he took, in the want of a better time-piece, to mea- sure the flight of the hours by means of graduated wax candles, inclosed in lanthorns to protect them from the wind, is well known. He usually divided the day and night, we are told, into three portions, of eight hours each: the first of which he devoted to religious meditation and study, the second to public affairs, and the third to rest and necessary refreshment. Alfred died, as is generally stated, on the 26th of October, 901 ; but some authorities place his decease a year, and some two years earlier. By his wife Elswitha he had three sons, the second of whom, Edward, succeeded him on the throne — the eldest having died in his father's life-time — and tln-ee daughters. England has had no monarch, or patriot, of whom she has more reason to be pi'oud, nor indeed does the history of any nation record a more perfect character, than this Anglo-Saxon sovereign. REIGNED FR03I 901 TO 925 Edward, surnamed the Elder, was the son and successor of Alfred, and the first of that name that sat on the English throne. His father's exertions had left him an authorit}'^ so firmly established that the efforts of his enemies were unable to overturn it ; his accession, however, was the immediate signal for civil discord, and his title was challenged by his cousin Ethelwald, son of king Ethelbald, the elder brother of Alfred, '» Sfu Heitnie's notes upon Spelman, p. £!3. 36 POLITICAL SEEIES. [Iikst who claimed the crown as his hereditary right. Arming his partisans, he toolc possession of Winiburn, where he seemed determined to maiU' tain the contest and wait the issue of his pretensions. But the memory of Alfred was grateful to the English nation, and when Edward march- ed his army to the town, the heroism of the ambitious prince sunk at the prospect of certain destruction, and making his escape, he fled first to Normandy, and then into Northumberland, where the turbulent Danes joined his standard, and proclaimed him their sovereign at York. This activity gave his hostilities an importance that endangered the public peace, and threatened the nation with a renewal of those convul- sions, from which the valour and polic}'^ of Alfred had so lately rescued them. At the head of the rebels he made an incursion into the coun- ties of Gloucester, Oxfoi'd, and Wilts ; but their ravages were checked by the approach of Edward with an army, who pursued them into the fens of Lincolnshire, and retaliated the injuries they had committed by spreading the like devastations in East Anglia. Sated with vengeance and loaded with spoil, the king directed his troops to retire ; but the order was disobeyed by the men of Kent, who ventured from their cupidity of plunder, to stay behind the rest, and took up their quarters at Bury. The Danes attacked and overpowered them with a superior force, but they made a desperate defence ; and though the battle was lost, the issue proved fortunate to Edward, for the bravest of the rebel chiefs, and among them Ethelwald himself, perished in the action. His fate released the king from the trouble of a dangerous competitor, and a peace on advantageous terms was concluded with the Anglo- Danes.^ This truce, however, was of short duration, and in the year 910, the flame of war was again rekindled between the rival parties. The Northumbrians, assisted by the Danes in Mercia, exercised their depredations in different parts of the country, while Edward, to divert the forces of those freebooters, collected a fleet of one hundred ships to attack them by sea, hoping when this armament arrived on their coast, they must at least remain at home and provide for their defence. Con- cluding that the principal strength of the king was embarked in this naval expedition, the rebels advanced into the country to the Avon, committing spoil and pillage without apprehension. But an army was also prepared to chastise their temerity, and at Wodensfield they were surprised into a pitched battle, when they were defeated with the slaughter of many thousands.^ The event of this action established the uperiority of Edward over his factious neighbours, and while his arms continued to be successful in assaulting and repulsing their inroads, he was not less provident in putting his kingdom in a posture of de- fence. The possession of the north of England from the Humber to the Tweed, and of the eastern districts from the Ouse to the sea, gave him an extensive frontier on which invasion was easy ; but a line of fortresses was erected to secui'e those places where hostilities were most practicable. The garrisons were filled with a sufliciency of troops, who, when the invaders approached, were ready to march out in junc- tion Avith the provincial forces to repel tliem ; by this plan of vigilance and energy, Edward secured the protection of his kingdom. At once ' Chron. Sax. 100.— Hunt. p. 352. '^ I'liis victory was lout; a favourite subject of song with the nation;il poets. PEnioi).] EDWARD. to strengthen the boundary ot" Mercia, and coerce the Welsh on the western limit, he fortified the towns of Chester, Eddesbury, Stafford- Warwick, Cherbury, Buckingham, Towcester, Maiden, Huntingdon Manchester, Leicester, and Nottingham. In the year 918, his strength was tried by foreign invasion, the Northmen from Armorica entered the Severn with a fleet led by two earls, and having disembarked, they commenced their devastations in North Wales and Herefordshire. Bui Edward had intrusted armed bodies to watch the whole territory from Cornwall to the Avon, and falling in with the two divisions in Somer- setshire, they overtook and destroyed them.-* The miserable remnant sheltered themselves in a neighbouring island till, spent with famine, they escaped to South Wales, and thence to Ireland. Conscious of his now consolidated power, Edward resolved to abolish the separate government of Mercia, which had lost its war- rior-queen, Ethelfleda, in 920, and the same year it was incor- porated with Wessex. The young regent Elfwina was brought off, and by this measure he advanced one step nearer to the monarchy of England. To counteract this gradual accumulation of power, the Anglo-Danes renewed their incursions, but they were again de- feated in two signal battles at Tempsford and Maiden. These triumphs led to the submission of other districts ; and the East Angles not only sw^ore to Edward " that they would will what he should will," and promised immunity to all under his protection, but the Danish army at Cambridge chose him for their special lord and patron.* The in- fluence of these successive examples of submission soon spread it- self. Stamford and its vicinity acknowledged Edward's dominion, as did Northumberland, whose two rival princes, Reginald and Sidroc, he expelled. Several tribes of the Britons, with their kings, were also subdued by him ; and even the Scots, who, during the reign of Egbert, had augmented their power by the final subjugation of the Picts, were compelled to bow to his supremacy.^ In all these fortunate achieve- ments of his reign, Edward was greatly assisted by the prudence and activity of his sister Ethelfleda, queen of Mercia. He died — accord- ing to the Saxon chronicle — at Forrington, in Berkshire, in the year 925, though other authorities say 924. This prince must be ranked amongst the illustrious founders of the English monarchy. He executed with vigour the military plans of his father, and not only secured the Anglo-Saxons from a Danish sovereign- ty, but even prepared the way for that destruction of the Anglo- Danish power which his descendant achieved. Inferior to his father in knowledge and learning, he yet equalled him in military talent ; though the opposition through which he had to struggle, was by no means so formidable as that which Alfred had to encounter and overcome in as- cending the throne. Edward had many children. His first marriage produced two sons, Ethelward and Edwin, and six daughters. Four of » Chron. Sax. 102, 105. ♦ Cluoii. Sax. 109. ' Tlie Saxon Cliroiiicle says that Edward l.uilt and fortified a town at Badecan- vvylluu in Peacland, which Lingard conceives must have been somewhere in tii« neighbourhood of lialhgate in West Lothian: fur tlie Chronicle proceeds to tell us thai it was on occasion of Edward'sbuilding this fortress that '• the king of liie Scots, and all the people of the Scots, and the king of tie Strathclyde Gaels, and all the Slrathclyde Gaels clicse him for their father and lord." 110. 38 POLrriCAL SERIES. fFiK^i the princesses graced the dignity of continental potentates ; and the maiden fair may smile at their homely accomplishments which em- braced the use of the needle and the distaff. By a second marriage he had two sons, Edmund and Edred, who in course of time succeeded to his crown ; and three daughters, one of whom, a lady of exquisite beauty, was wedded to the prince of Aquitain. BORN A. D. 895. niED A. D. 946. Athelstan, the son of Edward tlie Elder, was the twenty-fourth king of the West Saxons, and crowned at Kingston on tlie Thames. He was the first-born of Edward, — tlie first of an early attachment to a shepherd's daughter ; but this stain on his descent was not reckoned so considerable in those times as to exclude him from the throne, es- pecially as he was, at his accession, of mature age, and endowed with talents that fitted him for the government of a nation so much exposed to foreign attacks and intestine convulsions. Brompton and some others would lead us to infer that his birth was legitimate, but this ac- count is rejected by many ancient and most of our modern writers. The circumstances of his nativity are somewhat romantic, yet well attested. The shepherdess Edgina, when a girl, dreamed that a light resembling the moon, shone from her person, so brilliantly that it illuminated all England. This vison she innocently related to an old woman who had nursed prince Edward in the court of his father, Al- fred. The aged dame, struck with the extraordinary beauty of the child, and the curious particulars of the dream, took her home and kept her as her own daughter. Some time afterwards, prince Edward happening to pay a visit to his nurse, took notice of the fair Edgina, fell in love with her, and had by her this son, whom, on account of his mother's dream, he named Athelstan, or 'the most noble:* light being, according to the interpreters of these superstitions, a symbol of majesty. His birth occui-red in tlie year 895, six years before the death of his grandfather, Alfred, who took great pains Avith his education, recom- mending him in liis infancy to tlie care of his daughter, the celebrated Ethelfieda, and soon after to that of her husband, Ethered, one of the ablest captains of the age in which he lived. When young Athelstan was of years to be introduced at court, he was brought thither by his tutor. The king was so interested in his appearance, so pleased with his beauty, spirit, and manners, tliat he invested him prematurely with the dignity of knighthood, giving him a purple robe, a belt set with jewels, and a Saxon sword in a golden scabbard.^ The blessing or prediction of Alfred, and the circumstance of his being destined for the tlirone by his father's will, obtained for Athel- stan from the thanes of Mercia and Wessex, the preference to Ed- ward's other children, who, though legitimate, were of too tender an age for so important a charge- But scarcely was he seated in the regal authority, when a dangerous conspiracy was formed against him bv Alfred, a discontented nobleman, whose intention was to seize the ' Maim. 29 Pkkiod.] ATIIELSTAN. ^b person of his sovereign at Winchester, and put out his eyes. The plot, however, was discovered, and its autlior apprehended ; but he steadfastly denied it ; and tlie king, to sliow his strict regard for justice, sent him to Rome there to purge himself by oath, before tiie altar of St Peter, — a place deemed so holy, that no one was presumed wicked enough to swear falsely and escape the immediate vengeance of heaven. Tiie papal chair was then filled by John X., before whom the conspir- ator, either conscious of his innocence, or regardless of the superstition to which he appealed, ventured to make the oath required of him. But — -if we may believe the legends of the monks, who were artful enough either to invent or to give credibility to their miracles — no sooner had he pronounced the fatal Avords, than he fell into convulsions, and eing carri(!d by his servants to the English school, died there on the third day in great torment. The pope denied his lady christian burial until such time as he had acquainted Athelstan, at whose request it was after- wards granted. The evidence of his guilt being now so clearly ascer- tained, tlie king confiscated his estate and made a present of it to the monastery of Malmesbury.* Having, by the suppression of this piece of domestic treason, secured his dominion over his English subjects, Athelstan set himself next to make provision against the insurrections of the Danes, which had created so nmch disturbance to his predecessors. For this purpose he marched into Northumberland, then ruled by Sithric, a Danish nobleman ; but finding the inhabitants impatient of the English yoke, and perhaps from the circumstances of his birth and the existence of legitimate brothers, dreading to provoke a doubtful war, he preferred courting his alliance rather than encountering his enmity, and attached him to his interests by giving him the title of king, and his sister Editha in marriage. This policy, however, proved accidentally the source of dangerous consequences. Sithric, on espousing the princess, had consented, as a condition, to renounce Paganism and embrace Christianity; but in a few months repenting of his conversion, he putaway his wife and resumed his idolatry. This insult roused Athelstan and the Anglo-Saxons to arms; but before the invasion was effected, Sithric died. His two sons who succeeded him determined to maintain by force the religion and the independence of their father ; but they were soon driven from their territories by Athelstan, and fled, the warlike Anlaf into Ireland, and Godfrid into Scotland, where his pretensions to the sovereignty for some time received the countenance of Constantine, who then enjoyed the crown of that kingdom. Messengers were des- patched to the king of Scots to demand back the fugitive prince ; and in case of refusal, preparations were made for invading his dominions. But from reasons not well-explained, Athelstan thought fit to accom- modate this quarrel, and made peace with Constantine ; though others relate that he defeated and took Constantine prisoner, but out of gen- erous compassion immediately set him at liberty, saying, there was more honour in making a king, than in being a king. This latter nar- rative, however, is by no means probable, and seems to be confounded with a subsequent invasion. Godfrid contrived by the friendly warn- ing of his protector to effect his escape, and made a fruitless effort to * Maln^ •^i>, 29. 40 POLITIC^VL SERIES. [First interest the city of York in his favour. At length he was compelled to submit, and was honourably received by Athelstan. Four days ot enjoyment satiated him with the splendour of a court and the charms of civilised life ; yielding to early habits, the pagan barbarian renounced that tranquillity which is so grateful to the cultured mind, and aban- doned himself to the roving occupation of maritime piracy. His death, some years after, freed the Anglo-Saxon king from any farther appre- hension. Meantnne, Constantine, whether he owed the retaining of lu^ crown to the moderation or to the policy of Athelstan, who reckoned it more glorious to confer than conquer kingdoms, thought the conduct of the English monarch more an object of resent- ment than of gratitude. If he had been a released prisoner, he made a, very ungenerous requital to his benefactor, for he entered into a confederacy with Anlaf and many of the neighbouring chiefs, though we have no distinct account of the number that consti- tuted this formidable alliance. Anlaf had collected a great body of Danish pirates whom he found hovering in the Irish seas. Some of the Welsh princes were drawn into the league from a jealousy of tlie growing power of Athelstan. Eugenius, king of Cumberland, joined the Scots and Picts ; and this coalition was yet farther augmented by fleets of warriors from Norway and the Baltic. This mighty com- bination excited great attention in Europe as well as in England, and is found narrated in the northern sagas as well as in the monkish chro- nicles. Athelstan made the most strenuous exertion to put himself in a condition to meet his enemies, particularly by promises of high re- ward to every soldier who should join his standard. After four years of preparation the confederates j)ut their armament in motion. Anlaf entered the Humber with a fleet of 615 ships, and admitting the mo- derate quota of fifty men to each, his troops must have exceeded thirty thousand. The invaders then marched their concentrated force to Brumford, or Brunsbury, or Brumbridge — for the position is not well-ascertained — in Northumberland, near the place where Athelstan had pitched his camp. While both armies lay here, Anlaf, being de- sirous to inspect the enemy's quarters, that he might with surer success take them by surprise, made use of the same stratagem that Alfred had formerly practised, and which was probably an artifice fa- miliar to the Northmen of that age. Laying aside his regal vestments, and concealing himself under the disguise of a minstrel, he entered the Saxon camp, and went about singing and playing on his harp from tent to tent till he was brought before the king. If he had delighted the soldiers who flocked round him, his music and dancing were not less gratifying to Athelstan. Pleased with his performances, he dismissed the harper with a handsome reward ; but the pride of Anlaf revolted against accepting a gift from his enemy. On quitting the camp he resolved to dispossess himself of the royal present, and to avoid de- tection he cut with his knife a piece of turf, under which he buried the money. But he Avas not unobserved. A soldier who had formerly served under him, struck with some suspicion on his first appearance, liad narrowly watched his movements ; and perceiving in this last act a full confirmation of his suspicions, he immediately carried the intelli- gence to Athelstan, who blamed him for not sooner giving him infor- Peuiod.J ATIIELSTAN. 41 rnatioii, that he might have seized the adventurous spy. Bi t the sol- dier tokl iiiin tiiat, as he had ouce sworn fealty to Anlaf, he couM iK'Vcr have forgiven liiuiself the treachery of betraying his ancient master; and that had he done so, his present sovereign might, after such an instance of perfidious conduct, have had equal reason to dis- trust his allegiance. He ventured, however, to counsel his majesty to remove his tent to another (juarter, — an advice which it was thought prudent to comply with. The station thus left vacant by the king's removal was occupied by the bishop of Sherburn, who arrived in the evening with his reinforcement of soldiers : for, in those turbulent ages, the ecclesiastical and civil authorities were no less warlike than the re- gular professors of the military art. The event showed the wisdom of this precaution ; for no sooner had darkness fallen than Anlaf, with a select band broke into the camp, and hastening directly to the spot where he had left the roj'al tent, cut the bishop and his retinue to pieces before they had time to prepare for their defence.^ But this triumph was of short duration. Athelstan hearing of the disaster, united and arranged all his forces for a decisive engagement. They were di- vided into two bodies, — the tirst consisting of West Saxons, command- ed by himself, which charged Anlaf, — the second, comprehending the warriors of Mercia and London, were conducted by the valiant Turketul, the chancellor, and opposed to the Scots and Cumbrians under Con- stantine. The conflict raged with great obstinacy. Whole ranks were mowed down, and their loss as quickly supplied by others hastening to become victims. The fortune of the day was determined by the va- liant chancellor ; having formed a compact body of chosen veterans from the citizens of London and the men of Worcestershire, he placed his huge muscular figure at their head, and rushed on the enemy with resistless impetuosity, heedless of the arrows and spears that fastened in his armour. The Scots made a gallant defence, but they were at length compelled to give way. Constantine, their king, succeeded in effecting his escape, but he lost his eldest son, a circumstance which has led some writers erroneously to assert that he himself fell in thi;? memorable battle. The overthrow of their confederates so dislieartened Anlaf's division that they also fled, charged in the rear by the victo- rious Turketul. This famous engagement, admitted to have been one of the bloodiest ever fought in the island, is celebrated in most of the annals of the time, botli English and foreign. Among the Anglo- Saxons it excited such rejoicings, that not only their poets aspired to commemorate it, but the songs were so popular, that one of them is inserted in the Saxon Chronicle as the best memorial of the event. It states tlie battle to have lasted from sunrise till sunset, — mentions the death of Ave kings, and seven dukes or earls, — the flight of Constantine and Anlaf, — and the noble valour of the Saxon warriors. Nor are the monks and miracle-workers silent on this subject, some of whom, though little deserving of credit, may not be unworthy of notice. We are gravely assured that wher Athelstan had dropped his sword in the field, another fell from heaven into tlie scabbard, at the prayer of Otho. archbisljop of Canterbury ; and with tliis celestial instrument he fought during the remainder of the day. He had, moreover, a visionary pre- • IMalm. 2(). 42 POLITICAI. SERIES. [Fiusi sage of this conquest, four years before, when he invaded and defeated tlie Scots. In that expedition he had met on the road many pilgrims retui'ning fioni the shrine of St John of Beverley, where the lame, the blind, and the sick, used then to resort for the cure of their respective diseases. The king ordering his army to march forward, went himself on a pilgrimage to this miraculous tomb ; and, having besought the saint to give him assistance in the war which he had undertaken, he left his dagger as a pledge for the faithful performance of the vows he had there made. St Jolm duly discharged his part of the agreement, tor, in a vision, he promised him his aid, by which means Constan- tine and the Scots were completely discomfited. But not satisfied with merely gaining a victory, Athelstan ventured to request another favour from the saint : that he would be pleased to give some sign that might convince the Scots their kingdom depended y?/re divino on that of England. In consequence of this prayer, his arm was endowed with such supernatural strength that he cut with a stroke of his sword an ell deep into a solid rock near his camp at Dunbar, and left that chasm as an indubitable mark of his sovereignty over the country. The legend is abundantly absurd, but it is not unworthy of being re- corded, and derives some importance from the historical fact that thiH cleft stone at Dunbar is actually insisted on by Edward I. in his letter to Pope Boniface, wherein he states his right over the king and king- dom of Scotland. The battle of Brunsbury secured to Athelstan the undisputed enjoy- ment of his crown. Its successful result was of such consequence as to raise him to a most venerated dignity in the eyes of all Europe. The kings of the continent sought his friendship, and England be- gan to assume a majestic attitude among tlie nations of the West. It was the fame of his exploits that induced Henry the Fowler, then em- peror of Germany, to demand one of his sisters in marriage for his son Otho. Hugo, king of the Franks, solicited another of them for his son; and Lewis, prince of Aquitain, sent an embassy to desire a third for himself. On this occasion greater presents were sent into England than had ever been seen before, and the glory of Athelstan'g court far surpassed that of any of his predecessors. In pursuance of his favourite design of rendering himself supreme master of the whole island, he led his victorious army immediately against the Welsh, or more properly the ancient Britons, and in this expedition he was equally fortunate ; for, having beaten them in the field, he caused Ludwald, king of Wales, with all kis petty princes, to meet him at Hereford, where they did him homage, and promised to pay him an yearly tribute of twenty pounds of gold, three hundred pounds of silver, one hun- ned pounds of wool, and twenty-five thousand head of cattle, witli as many hawks and hounds as he should demand. He likeAvise expelled the Britons who had hitherto dwelt conjointly with the English al Exeter, and forced them to retire into Cornwall ; making the river Tamar tlie boundary of his dominions on this side, as he had fixed the Wye on the other.* So decisive was his subjugation of the Anglo- Danes, that he has received the fame of bei'^g the founder of the English monarchy, — an honour generally ascribed to Egbert. The * Tlie language of the ancient Britons wiis preserved in Cornwall until the reign of Henry VlII, Pi-.uioD.J ATHELSTAN. 4o oompptition for this distinction can only rest between Alfred and Atiielstan ; but the Danish kiiiirs (livith^l the island with the former ; and it was not till his grandson had coinph'tcly sidjjcctcd those for(;igii invaders that the Eng-lish monarchy was indisputably established. The defeat of Aniaf left him no competitor, and gave him the un- questionable title of being the immediate sovereign of all England. Besides his good understanding with France and Germany, Athelstan was on intimate terms with Harold of Norway, who sent his son Haco to be educated at the English court, and to learn the customs of that nation who stood much higher in the scale of refinement than the Norwegians then just emerging from their original barbarism. The young prince was carefully instructed in every becoming accomplishment, and re- ceived a sword from his royal guardian which he kept till his deatli Harohl on this occasion sent a present of a magnificent slup, with a golden prow, and purple sails surrounded with sliields gilt internally. When disturbance at home recalled Haco to assist in expelling Eric, who had usurped the sole dominion of Norway at the expense of mur- ilering his brotlier, Athelstan equipped and manned a fleet for his pupil, who by his aid succeeded in establishing himself on his father's throne in place of the cruel Eric^ These generous actions have been passed in silence by most English Avriters, and thus has their monarch been robbed of part of his fame, but they are attested by the chronicles of the countries benefitted by his liljerality. The remainder of his reign elapsed in peace and glory until the period of his death, which hap- pened at Gloucester in the year 941.'' As to the person of Athelstan, we are told that he was of the middle size, of a pleasant countenance, somcAvhat bent in the shoulders, with hair of a bright yellow, twisted with golden threads. It does not appear that he was ever married, though the fabulous writers of the life of Guy of Warwick speak of a natural daughter of his, whom they name Leonada. His people loved him for his bravery and his beneficence ; and he certairdy ranks as one of the most admired princes of the age in which he lived, on account of his wisdom, his wealth, and the extent of his dominions, for he was not only monarch of England, but nominal lord of Wales and Scotland, wliich he had subdued as far as Dunbar, having ravaged the coasts with his fleets to the extremity of Caithness. He had received a liberal education, and was a great promoter of learning, though his subsequent attainments in knowledge have not been transmitted to us. There is however a small catalogue of his books extant; and if we may credit Tindal and Bale, he ordered the Bible to be translated from the Hebrew into the Saxon tongue for the use of his subjects, a task which they suppose to have been done by certain Jews converted to the Christian faith. Leland says that he found in the library of the monastery at Bath some books which had been given by this prince to the monks there ; one of which, a treatise De Synodls Pontijiciis, he brought from thence and placed in the library of king Henry VHI. It has an inscription of six lines, the first of which fixed its ownership. * " He was extolled, and deservedly, for his good government. And tlie laws of Haro '(he foster-son of Athelstan,' are the earliest written specimens of the lenisiation of Scandinavia, and the best proof of the advantages derived by tlie Norwegian prince fro.Ti his edueatiun at the eouit of the Anglo-Saxon king." Palgrave, vol. 1. p. 211. ' Chrun. Sax. 111. 44 POLmCAL SERIES [Eirst On me great Ethelstaii was wont to look, And still his mark declares me once liis book, &c. But the great fame of this monarch arose from his laws, of M'hicli we have two editions, one by Lombard, and the other by Brompton. These are numerous and highly curious. One book, consists of ancient laws, c.orrected, another of manners, and a third of constitutions for the government of the clergy. Mr Selden speaks of them very respectful- ly ; and the perusal of them lets us into the knowledge of the Saxon antiquities, and thereby illustrates the history not only of those times, but also the grounds of our constitution as it still stands. Turner has mentioned the substance of some of these enactments, and they are use- ful in throwing light on the general policy of that reign. For the en- couragement of conmierce it was decreed that every merchant who should go three times beyond sea in trading-voyages on his own account, should be admitted to the rank of a thane or gentleman. A similar honour was connected with agriculture. Every ceorl who had five hides of his own land, a church, a kitchen, a bell-house, a seat at the city gate, and a separate office in the king's hall, was also to become a thane. But the possession of arms of honour, without land, would not exalt the proprietor. The prohibition to export horses, unless for presents, implies that the English steeds were valued abroad ; and the law not to put sheep-skins as a cover upon shields, would seem to indicate that parchment was becoming more precious, and of course that literature was increasing. Amidst all his greatness Athelstan forgot not the rights of the poor. He ordered that each of his overseers should feed in all ways one indigent Englishman, if any such they either had or could find ; and that from every two of his farms, one measure of meal, one gammon of bacon, or a ram, with four pennies, should be given monthly, and clothing for twelve months every year. He also commanded each of them annually to redeem one miserable being who had forfeited his liberty by a penal adjudication ; and the consequence of disregarding any of these charitable precepts was a fine of thirty shillings. He is repre- sented as having been a great benefactor to the church ; he rebuilt several monasteries, and to most of them he was very liberal in books, ornaments, or endowments. It was a common saying of the Anglo- Saxons, that no prince more legally, or more learnedly, conducted a government ; and, considering his character and acquirements, it is not surprising that he should have been beloved at home and admired abroad. One incident yet remains to be stated, which has left an indelible stain on the memory and the virtues of this monarch, — the murder of his brother Edwin. Though the point is obscure, and the details contradictory, yet the fact is generally believed, and has been recorded by all the annalists of the times. The cause of the guilty deed was this. In the conspiracy of Alfred, Edwin, then a youth, was arraigned as an accomplice in the rebellion. The king, naturally suspicious, gave credit to the accusation, and notwithstanding the charge was denied on his oath, and the royal clemency implored by his friends, the innocence of the prince was not believed. Atlielstan ordered him, with only one attendant, to be put on board a leaky boat without oars, and cast on thp sea.' For some time they continued in sighi of land, bit a tempest arose, and drove tiiera into the bosom of the deep. Without hope, and in danger of starvation, Edwin sprung from the shattered bark, and buried his despair in the waves. His body was afterwards thrown asliorc between Dover and Whitsand. For seven years Athelstaii in a eooler mood mourned his death witli a penitence wliieh could not ob- literate the crime from his memory, and still less atone for it ; though the monastery of Middleton in Uorsetsl)ire was built in evidence of his contrition. The deed never could leave the conscience of the mur- derer, and an anecdote is related how keen his sensibilities were on this subject. The royal cup-bearer, who had been the prime instigator of this cruel action, happened while serving the king at table, to make a false step with one foot ; but recovering himself with the other, " See," said he jocularly, " how one brother aflbrds another help I" a remark which cost the unwary courtier his life, as being the cause of that fra- tricide which he now spoke of with so much levity. Except this foul olot — which is perhaps darkened by our ignorance of its true reasons — the testimony of history is in favour of Athelstan's uniform kindness to his brothers and sisters, for whose sake, it is said, he resolved to lead a life of celibacy. BOltN A. D. Q22. DIED A. D. 9i(>. Edmund, sometimes called the Elder, son of Edward by his second wife, succeeded to the ci'own on the death of Athelstan. At the outset of his reign he met with renewed disturbance from Anlaf and the rest- less Northumbrians, who lay in wait for every opportunity of breakuig into rebellion. Anlaf had been invited from Ireland, and being pro- claimed king of Northumberland, he collected a large armament, and landing near York, marched into the heart of Mercia. Edmund was less able or less fortunate than his predecessor, for Anlaf defeated him at Tamworth ; but the Anglo-Saxon government was now so well established that these partial disasters could not overturn it. At Leicester the king surrounded the rebel chief, with his friend Wolfstan the ambitious archbishop of York ; but at night they made a sally from the town, and in the battle which ensued, the palm of victory after a day of conflict again fell to Anlaf. Edmund was now glad to listen to negotiations, and a peace was concluded much less honourable to him than his rival, to whom he agreed to surrender all that part of England which extended north of Watling street, reserving to himself the south- ern regions. To the treaty this most humiliating condition was annexed, that whoever survived the other should be sole monarch of the whole. The death of Anlaf, the following year, relieved Ednmnd of a danger- ous competitor, who, by his talents and intrepidity, had raised himself to so near a possession of the English crown. The loss of their leader »vas followed by the submission of the rebels, and as a sure pledge of their obedience they oftered to embrace Christianity, — a religion wiiieh ' A common luocit; of puiiisliinent in the middle ;iges. 4G POLITICAL SERIES. [Fiust the Aiiglo-Danes had often professed when reduced to difficulties; but which, lor that very reason, Uiey regarded as a badge of servitude, and shook off as soon as a favourable contingency offered. Trusting little to the security of a conversion thus compulsory, Edmund used the pre- caution of suppressing the independence of the live cities — Derby, Leicester, Nottingham, Stamford, and Lincoln — which the Danes had 'oug occupied, and where tliey took advantage of every commotion to make inroads into the heart of the kingdom.' With the help of the king of South Wales he conquered Cumberland,- and conferred that ter- ritory on Malcolm king of Scotland, on the condition that he should do homage for it, and protect the northern frontier ficom all future in- cursions of the Danes.^ Edmund was young when he came to the throne, yet his reign was short and his death violent. The circumstances of his murder, however, are related with more of variation than a transaction so simple and so affecting could be thought to occasion. The most current ac- count is, that while celebrating the feast of St Augustine at Canterbury, or in Gloucestershire, he remarked that Leolf, a notorious robber whou) I.e had sentenced to banishment six years before, had yet the boldness ' Chron. Sax. 114.. " " Tlie Britons of Cumbria occupy a tolerabl)' large space on the map, but a very small one in history; their annals have entirely perished ; and nothing authentic remains cuncerniiig them, except a very few passages, wholly consisting of incidental notices relating to their subjection and their misfortunes. Romance would furnish much more ; for it was in Cumbria that Ilhyderc, or Roderic the magnificent, is therein represented to have reigned, and Merlin to have prophesied. Arthur held his court in merry Car- lisle; and Peredur, the prince of Sunshine, whose name we find amongst the princes of Strath-clyde, is one of the greatest heroes of the 'Mabinogion,' or tales ot youth, long preserved b)- tradition amongst the Cymrj'. These fantastic personages, however, aie of importance in one point of view, because they show — what «e might otherwise tor- get — tliat from the Ribble in Lancashiie, or thereabouts, up to the Clyde, there ex- isted a dense population, composed of Britons, who preserved their national language and customs, agreeing in all respects with the Welsli of the present day. So that, even in the tenth century, the ancient Britons still inhabited the greater part of the western coast of the island, however much they had been compelled to yield to the political su- premacy of the Saxon invaders. " The Regnupi Cumbrense comprehended many districts, probably governed by peity princes or lieguli, in subordination to a chief monarch, or Pendrayon. Reged appears to have been somewhere in the vicinity of Aimandaie. Strath-clyde is, of course, the district 01' vale of Cljdesdale. In this district or state, was situated Alcluyd, ov Dun- hritton, now Dumbarton, where the British kings usually lesided; and the whole Cum- brian kingdom was not unfrcquently called Sirath-cli/de, from the ruling or principal slate; just as the united kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland is often designated in common language as England, because England is the portion where the monarch and legislature are found. Many dependencies of the Cumbrian kingdom extended into modern Yorkshire, and Leeds was the frontier-town between the Biitons and the An- gles; but the former were always giving way, and their territory was broken and inter- sected by English settlements. Carlisle had been conquered by the Angles at a very early period ; and Egfrith of Morthumbria bestowed that city upon the see of Lindis- f:nne. He extended his conquests into that district now called Furness in Lancashire. Kyle in Cunningham, was reduced by Edbert. Alcluyd, ' the strong city,' was besieged a/id taken by the same monarch, aided by Unnust king of the Picts, and afterwards wholly destroyed by Olave and Ingvar. lilany Cumbrian tribes, harassed by the North- men and also by the Saxons, wholly abandoned their country, and found shelter and pro- tection in Wales or the Marches, where, it is said, they regained some of the lands whicii had been occupied by the Mercians. After the destruction of Alcluyd, these Briton.s were governed by kings of the Scottish line, who, probably, acquired their rights bv intermarriage with a British princess ; and Eugenius, or Owen, one of these rulers, was engaged, together with Conslantiin', king of the Scuts, against Athelstane, in the great battle of Brunnaburgh." Palgrave's History, vol. I. pp. 223 — 225. ' Malm. 53. — Hunt. 355- — The righis of the Scottish kings to 'the earldom of Cum- berland' — for such it was aflerwanJs termed — were founded upon Edmund's grant Palgruve, vul. 1. i!l'G. Pkuiod.J EDRED. 47 to enter the banquet-room, and sit at the table with the royal attentlajits. Enraged at his insolence, the king ordered him to (juit the place, and on his refusing to obey, the indignant monarch, heated with liquor, and naturally of a choleric temper, sprung ii'om his seat, s(;ized the intruder by the hair and threw him on the ground. A general tumult ensued — a tiling not unlikely to happen in the midst of Bacchanalian jollity — when the rufiian, pushed to extremity, drew a dagger which he had con- cealed, and gave Edmund a wound of which he immediately expired.'* This occurred in 946, consequently in the sixth year of the king's reign and 24th of his age. He left male issue, but so young that they were incapable of assuming the reins of administration. Edmund, like his predecessor, left a series of laws, which serve as an index to the sanguinary features of the times. Weary of the manifold quarrels which occurred daily in the country, he instituted farther regu- lations concerning homicide, the mulcts or penalties on which he for- bade to be forgiven. He denied the benefit of refuge to all who shed blood, until they should have made the established compensation to the familj' of the deceased, and also that appropriated to the church, and have submitted to the right which the bishop of the shire should adjudge. The rules which he laid down concerning marriage contributed to the protection of the female sex, inasmuch as they required the pledge of the bridegroom to the attesting party, that he took the lady to be his wife, and would keep her as such: which his friends were compelled to guarantee. The bridegroom was also enjoined to state what his widow should have if she survived him; and by law she was entitled on his death to the half of his goods, and if they had children, to the whole, unless she chose another husband. An additional security for the sex was provided, by enacting, that if the husband wished to remove his wife into another district, the thane should be required to bind himself by the pledge of friends that he would do her no injury ; and if she should commit a fault, and could not make reparation, that her relations should first be applied to.^ These laws imply an imperfect state of so- cial manners ; but they evince that the female character was considered with respect and attention by the Anglo-Saxon legislators, and conse- quently that the civilization of the island was advancing towards maturity HORN A. D. 923 DIED A. D. 955. Ed RED succeeded Ids elder brother, in " the fourfold empire of the Anglo-Saxons and Northumbrians, Pagans and Britons," to use the style of his own charters ; and, at the time of his elevation, nmst have been under twenty-three years of age. The Northumbrian Danes had been often subdued, but they never paid a sincere allegiance to the crown of England. A new accession was the signal for fresh dis- turbances. Eric of Norway had generously received from Athelstan a settlement in Northumberland, under the title of king. But to the habits of a barbarian, peace has fewer charms than plunder. The Nor- * Malm. 54. \Vi;k. LI.. Sax. 73. 48 POLITICAL SEEIES. [Tiusi M egian exile, therefore, still loved the activity of depredation. The numerous friends, with kindred feelings, who crowded to him from Norway, displeased or disappointed with the government of Haco, cherished his turbulent propensities ; and to feed, to employ, or to emulate them, he consumed the summer-months by pirating in Scot- land, the Hebrides, Ireland, and Wales. In the north of England he became formidable to the Anglo-Saxons. These proceedings provoked Edred, who assembled a vindictive army, and spread devastation over Northumberland, the inhabitants of which had violated their oath of fidelity to him.' Terrified by this chastisement, the rebellious North- umbrians again made their wonted submission, and renewed their oath of allegiance. But their obedience lasted no longer than their present apprehension. Again they revolted, and again they were subdued ; but Edred, now instructed by experience, took greater precautions against their future insurrections. He fixed English garrisons in their most considerable towns, and placed in them governors in his own mterest, Avho might watch their motions, and repress their predatory inclinations. He carried away in bonds the proudest nobles of the country, imprisoned the turbulent archbishop Wolfstan, and annexed that refractory territory insepai'ably to his dominions. He also obliged Malcolm of Scotland to renew his homage for the lands he held in England. An infirm constitution had enfeebled the mind of Edred, and, though neither unwarlike nor unfit for active life, he was under the influence of the lowest superstition, and had blindly delivered over his conscience to the guidance of the famous Dunstan, abbot of Glas- tonbury, a man who veiled under the appearance of sanctity the most insatiable and insolent ambition.* Taking advantage of the implicit confidence reposed in him by the king, this wily churchman imported into England a new order of monks, who greatly changed the aspect of ecclesiastical affairs, and excited, on their first establishment, the most violent commotions. This was the Benedictines, an order to which Odo, archbishop of Canterbury, attached himself, and which, in course of time, became celebrated in Europe beyond every other. From Italy it spread itself into other countries, and at length reached Eng- land. Its regulations were peculiarly austere ; and many of them seem the offspring of caprice. Each member was to sleep in a single bed ; but, if possible, the whole fraternity was to be in the same room. They were to lie in their clothes, without knives. The younger bre- thren were not to have beds by themselves, but to be mixed with the elders. All were to take their turn in the work of the kitchen. In their diet they were debarred the flesh of quadrupeds, but there wa? no prohibition against fish or fowl : they were allowed both twice a-day, and a pound of bread. Even wine was not denied in sober quantity, though they were advised to abstain from it if they could. They were to study taciturnity, and, after supper, read the fathers, tlie lives of the saints, or other edifying subjects. In these daik ages any inno- vation, however absurd, that took the name of religion, was sure of a welcome reception ; and no virtue was more popular than an affectatioji of abstinence and austerity. The praises of an inviolable chastity had ' Jjigiilf. aik ' Walliiigf. Chron— Maliru Pnnoii.J EDWY. 49 been carried to the highest extravagance by some of the first preachers of Cliristianity among the Saxons. The [jleasures of love had been rq)resented as incompatible with Christian perfecticm, and especially prohibited to those wiio oiliciatcd at tiie altar. The monks knew well how to avail themselves of these jjopular topics, and to set off tiieir own character to the best advantage. Their lives, outwardly, were decent and abstemious, and they inveiglied bitterlj' against the vices and pretended luxury of the age ; against the dissolute manners of tlie secular clergy, their rivals, they were jjarticularly veliement ; and when other subjects of defamation failed, their marriages became a theme of reproach,^ and their wives were insulted with the most opprobrious ap- pellations. By these sacred feuds the people were thrown into agitation, and few instances occur of more violent dissensions than those that raged between the different theological parties. England, at this pe- riod, was beginning to suffer from the effects of these distractions ; but the progress of the monks, which had become considerable, was retard- ed by tiie death of Edred their patron, who expired after a reign of nine years.* His children were left in their infancy, consequently unfit to undertake the government. BORN A. D. 939 DIED A. D. 959. Edwy, or Edwin, as he is sometimes called, the eldest son of Edmund, succeeded his uncle Edred at the age of sixteen, in 953. He was possessed of the most amiable figure, and was endowed with the most promising virtues ;^ but his youth was the source of his calamities. A stripling king was incompetent to wage a war of policy or power with the enthusiastic advocates of a new ecclesiastical system, whose fanati- cism envenomed their hostility, and rendered their vengeance at once insolent and implacable. No monarch, perhaps, would have been more beloved by his subjects, had he not uidiappily, immediately on his accession, been engaged in a controversy with the monks, whose rage, neither the graces of the body, nor the qualities of the mind could mitigate, and who have loaded his memory with the same unrelenting opprobrium which they exercised against his person and dignity during his short but unfortunate reign. The history of this youthful monarch, as has been observed, can neither be read nor narrated with indiffer- ence. If ever the tear of sympathy was deserved, — if ever the in- dignation of the historian was imperiously demanded, — the misfortunes of Edwy will claim our compassion and excite our resentment. Being at an age when the force of the passions first begin to be felt, he had surrendered his tentler heart to the charms of Elgiva, a beautiful princess of the royal blood. His love was pure and honourable ; but the lady was within the degrees of affinity prohibited by the canon law, being his second or third cousin. His passion, however, was too strong to be repulsed by these artificial barriers ; and, contrary to the ^ Osbernu in Aiiel. Sac. vol. ii. \). 92. cum iiolis Whart * Cliruii. Sitx. 116. '' Etliolw. 1. iv. c. 8. — Hunting p. 350. I. o )0 POLITICAL SERIES. [First advice of his gravest counsellors, and the remonstrances of the more dignified clergy, he ventured to make her his wife. The austerity of the monks was scandalized ; their fury knew no bounds ; every epithet of abuse was poured on this illegitimate union. It is not improbable that the aspiring ambition of Dunstan and Odo, might make this un- popular match a handle to serve their own political aggrandisement. Eclwy was no friend to their order ; and his immature age was a tempt- ing o])portunity for humbling an opponent not to be neglected. The royal temper being once subdued and overawed by their authority, the government of England would virtually fall into their hands. That projects of this sort had impressed the mind of Dunstan, seems un- questionable, else he would hardly have attempted to intimidate and coerce the king so early as the day of his coronation. The monks had ali'eady signified their desire of expelling the seculars from all the con vents, and possessing themselves of those rich establishments ; the king's refusal to sanction this measure tended to inflame their vengeance still more, though he soon found cause to repent his provoking such dangerous enemies. The coronation of the new king was performed with the usual solemnities, and after the ceremony, the guests were entertained in a great hall at a splendid banquet. When the repast was finished, and while the no1)les and the clergy were indulging themselves in that riot and excess, which, from the example of their German ancestors, had become habitual to the English, Edwy either disrelishing this boister- ous conviviality, or attracted by pleasures of a softer kind, left the table and retired to the queen's apartments." A visit to a wife whom he tenderly loved was extremely natural, nor is it surprising tliat, weary with the pomp of majesty, he might wish to find in her society, a brief respite from the fatigues of oftice and the riot of a drunken festival : yet it must be admitted that his abandoning his guests on such an occasion, was very indecorous according to the customs of the age. Odo, who seems to have presided at the ceremony, when he saw that the company were displeased, ordered some persons to go and bring tiie king back to his place at table. This delicate embassy was declined, until two, more intrepid than the rest — Dunstan and his relation, a Bishop Cynesius — undertook to restore the prince, either willingly or otherwise, to his deserted seat. Forgetting what was due both to Edwy's rights as a man, and his dignity as a sovereign, the impertinent messengers burst into the king's private chamber, where they found him in company with his queen and her mother. Dunstan informed him that the nobles expected his immediate return. In communicating the wishes of his subjects there was no impropriety, though to assail his privacy was rude and disrespectful ; but with the delivering of his er- rand his commission should have ended, and whether successful or not it was his duty to have withdrawn. As an ecclesiastic he should not have compelled him to a scene of intemperance ; as a subject, it was treasonable to offer violence to his person. Not content, however, with a denial, Dunstan proceeded to the extreme of rudeness. Against the ladies he directed his insolent invective, and publicly bestowed on the queen the most odious epithet that can be applied to her sex. lie » Maliii. So.— Matt. West. 3G9.— Wallinsl". 5U. upbraided the king with his effominacy ; and, on his refusing to (jiiit his seat, he tore him from the arms of his wife, forced the diadem on his head, and hurried him in the most indecent manner hack to tlie disorderly hall. To the humblest individual tiiis insolence must have been inexcusable ; to a king it was unj)ardonable. Edwy, though young and surrounded by such formidabh; adversaries, found an op- portunity of taking revenge for this public breach of duty and deco- rum. He displayed a spirit of firmness and independence on which his enemies had not calculated. Dunstan was cjuestioned concerning his administration of the treasury during the reign of Edred, and on his declining to give any account of the money expended, as he alleged, by order of the late king, he was accused of malversation in office, de- prived of his honours and emoluments, and condemned to banishment A voluntary flight saved the exiled monk from a severer exercise of the royal indignation, for he was scarcely three miles from shore on his way to Flanders, when a messenger arrived with orders to put out his eyes, had he been found in the kingdom. It was unfortunate for Edwy that he listened to the suggestion of his angry passions. The victim of his rage was not a mere insulated individual, or an obscure abbot of a distant monastery, who could be chastised with safety or im- punity. He was the idol of a superstitious people, whom his bold arti- fices had deluded and attached to him. He possessed the friendship of the venerable chancellor Turketul, and was supported by Od , the pri- mate of England, over whom he had gained an absolute ascendant. It was also probable that most of the clergy and nobility who had feast- ed at the coronation, conceived themselves bound to protect him, as liis punishment arose from his executing, however ofit;nsively, their commission. During his absence, therefore, the partisans of I)unstan were not inactive. They lauded his sanctity ; exclaimed against the impiety of the king and queen ; and, having poisoned the minds of the people by these declamations, they proceeded to still nxore outi'ageous acts of violence against the royal authority. In this conspiracy the fierce Odo distinguished himself as the most prominent in avenging his absent friend. He dissolved the king's marriage on the plea of kin- sliip ; and, having sent a party of soldiers to the palace to seize the queen, he barbarously caused her face to be branded by a red-hot iron, in order to destroy that fatal beauty which had seduced Edwy.^ She was then forcibly conveyed to Ireland, there to remain in perpetual exile. The king, too feeble to resist, was obliged to consent to his divorce ; but a catastrophe still more dismal awaited the hopeless Elgiva. Na- ture having healed her wounds, and c\'en obliterated the scars by which her persecutors had hoped for ever to deface her charms, she re- turned to England, and appeared at Gloucester in all her beauty, fly- ing to the embraces of a prince whom she still regarded as her hus- band. Again she was pursued, and fell into the hands of the party whom the barbarous prelate had sent to intercept her. Nothing but death could give security to her enemies, or satiate their vengeance ; and, horrible to relate, in a spirit of the most revolting cruelty, tiiey cut the nerves and nmscles of her legs, that she might wander front their vc'jgeanee no more; I In a state of extreme torture slie linger'"-'* = Oji)oriie, p. 84.— Gervasc. 1614. 52 POLITICAL SERIES. [I'ikst at Gloucester for a few days, until death released her at once from her suf- ferings and the brutal rage of her murderers.* The heart shudders with horror and indignation at a recital of these facts ; and perhaps human nature never presents a darker picture of its own depravity, tiian when connecting such barbarities with piety, and committing them in the name of a religion which breathes nothing but love, and peace, and charity. Instead of being shocked at these atrocities, — instead of resent- ing the indignity offered to their sovereign, — the English people, sucli is the baneful influence of superstition, exclaimed that the misfor- tunes of Edwy and his consort were a just judgment for their dis- solute contempt of the ecclesiastical statutes. From clamour they proceeded to rebellion. The Mercians and Northumbrians threw ofi their allegiance, drove him into the southern counties beyond the Thames, and appointed Edgar his brother, a boy of thirteen, to govern them in his stead. The prime instigator of this revolt was no doubtful personage ; for the exile, Dunstan, was immediately recalled with ho- nour, and took upon him the superintendence of Edgar aiid his party. The Benedictine reformation was popular, and Dunstan had the credit of being at once its champion and its martyr. His hostility to the king seemed thus enlisted on the side of virtue and morality ; and this apparent sanctity gained him abundance of supporters, and paved the way to his clerical advancement. He was first installed in the see ot' Westminster, then in that of London, and, after the death of Odo, and the expulsion of his successor Brithelm, in that of Canterbury. Mean- time the anathemas of the church were launched against Ed\vy, who was excommunicated and denounced as a loose voluptuary. But in three years after the revolt of his subjects, death put a period to his ignomi- nious treatment, and completed the triumph of his enemies. One au- thor, but he is a solitary evidence, states that he was assassinated ; and if his words do not imply violent death, we must at least believe the affecting account, that his spirit was so crushed and wounded by his persecutions, that, unable to bear unmerited odium, de[)usition from power, a brother's usurpation, and the murder of a belovetl wife, he sunk into a premature grave, heart-broken, and before he had reached the full age of manhootl. Edwy is admitted to have had capacity, and given promise of an honourable reign ; but his virtues had no weight with the nation when thrown into the balance against a popular supersti- tion, which was gathering strength every day. Perhajis, instead of braving the storm, had he complied a little with the imperious law of necessity, and waited till by manly prudence he had acquired charac- ter, enforced habits of respect, and created friends capable of defend- ing him, his malicious and remorseless calumniators might have been irretrievably humbled. His fall was a triumph to ecclesiastical tyranny, and an unfortunate example to Europe. It exhibited to the ambitious clergy the spectacle of a king insulted, injured, persecuted, and de- throned by priestly interference ; and as his successor became the sub- missive and flattering slave of his monastic leaders, it must have given a consequence to their influence, which operated powerfully to subject the royal authoiity in every court to their control. • Osberne p. 84. — Gervasc, lo44. f'"'!'^r>.^ EDGAR. 5;} noRN A. D. 942 — i)ii;n a. d. Oiri. Edhar irioijjitpd, in 9.59, the tliroiic which his contfuct had luiitri- buted to iiuikc vacant ; yet his boyisli yt^ars may transfer the crinjo of his seditious attainment of ])owcr, to tiie self-intrusted agents -.vho prompted it. Though young, he disttovered an exceHent capacity in the administration of affairs ; and Ins reign is one of the most prosperous to be met with in ancient Englisli history. Part of his greatness, no doubt, was owing to tiie talents of those who had preceded liim; tor, except the last, tlieir swords liad anniliilated opposition, or k;ft him no formidable power to encounter. He showed no aversion to war, but the fortunate condition of the kingdom did not render it necessary. He boasted in- deed in one of his charters, that he had subdued all the islands of the ocean with their ferocious kings, as far as Norway, and the greater [)art of Ireland, with its most noble city Dublin: these victories, however, must have been the invention of the panegyrical monks, as no wars of his have been recorded, except an invr^ion of Wales. But he made wise preparations against invaders ; and by this vigorous precaution he was enabled, without any danger of suffering insults, to indulge his in- clinations towards peace, and to employ himself in supporting and im- proving the internal government of his kingdom. To complete the subjugation of Northumberland, he convoked the barons, and divided the county into two provinces, making the river Tees the line of separation ; and to check their mutinous spirit as well as to repel the inroads of the Scots, he maintained a body of disciplined troops, which he quar- tered in the north. He built and kept a powerful navy afioat; and that he might retain the seamen in the practice of their duty, and al- ways present a formidable armament to his enemies, he stationed three squadrons ofi' the coast, and ordered them to make from time to time the circuit of his dominions. The amount of ships has been estimated at twelve hundred, and by some at three thousand,^ — a number incredi- ble in itself; and inconsistent with the state of the navy in the days of Alfi-ed, besides being superfluous to guard so small a territory, and in a season of profound peace. A more commendable and efficient prac- tice was that of riding every spring and winter through the different provinces, to investigate the conduct of the great, to protect the weak, a nd to punish every violation of the laws. The advantages of this vi- gilant policy were obvious. The foreign Danes dared not to approach a country which appeared in such a posture of defence. The Anglo- Danes saw inevitable destruction to be the consequence of their revolt; ivhile the neighbouring sovereigns, the king of Scotland, the petty princes of Wales, the Isle of Man, the Orkneys, and even of Ireland, ivere proud to pay submission to so formidable a monarch. Edgar made an ostentatious display of his pov/er, and carried his superioritj' to a height which might have excited a universal combination against him, Iuh! not his authority been so well-established. It is told of him that, while residing at Chester, and having purposed to go by water to the ' HovL'il. 'ViG. — Flor. Wigoni. (>07. — Mailrus Cliroii. 54 POLITICAL SERIES. [Pidst abbf y of St John the Baptist, he obliged eight of his tributary princes who had come to do him homage — amongst whom are mentioned. Kenneth of Scotland, Malcolm of Cumbria, Maccus of Anglesey, &c. — to act as watermen, and row him, with his nobles and officers, in a barge down the Dee.^ This degradation of their king, the Scottish historians strenuovisly deny ; and assei't that if ever he did acknowledge vassalage to Edgar, it was not for his crow^n, but for the dominions which he held in England. The merits and glory of Edgar have been depicted in vei*y fa- vourable colours by the monks, of whom he was the liberal and obse- quious patron. By them he is transmitted to us, not only under the character of a consummate statesman and an active prince — praises to which he seems to have been justly entitled — but under that of a great saint and a man of virtue, though the licentiousness of his manners con- trasts strangely with the compliments of his flatterers. It was by paying court to Dunstan and his partisans who at first placed him on the throne, that he wore his crown in peace, and maintained the tranquillity of his dominions. His policy was bent to convert the clergy into monks, and to fill the country with Benedictine institutions. He se- conded their scheme for dispossessing the secular canons of all the mon- asteries; he bestowed preferment on none but their adherents; he con- i<.ulted their leaders in the administration of all church-matters, and even in most affairs of state ; and though the vigour of his own genius hin- dered him from being implicitly guided by them, yet he always found it his interest to accord with their advice, and act in concert witli their views. In order to complete the great work of placing the new order of monks in all the convents, Edgar summoned a general council or synod of the prelates, and other heads of the religious orders. After an artful prologue on the many blessings he enjoyed, and an inference that it was his duty in return to make his subjects religious, he pro- ceeds to declare his anxiety for the ecclesiastical body. The speech draws a very unfavourable portrait of the secular clergy, and being rather curious, it may serve as a specimen not of the talents of the royal orator, but of the dissolute manners of the age. " With your peace I speak, reverend fathers, that if you had watched these things (the morals of the clergy) with diligent scrutiny, such hor- rid and abominable proceedings of the clergy would not have reached our ears. I speak not of the neglecting the open crown, the suitable tonsure ; but their loose garments, their insolent gestures, their turpi- tude of conversation ; these display the madness of the inner man. So negligent in tlieir offices, that they scarce deign to be present at the sacred vigils : when they approach the holy mass, it is to sport, not to worship. I affirm it — I affirm it, that the good will grieve, the bad laugh ! I say it with sorrow, if indeed it can be spoken, that they give themselves up to such eating, and drunkenness, and impurities, that their houses seem the receptacles of prostitutes, the stages of buffoons. There are dice, dancing, singing, and riot, prolonged into midnight. Thus — thus are wasted the patrimony of kings, the alms of the poor, and what is more, the price of his precious blood, that their strumpets may be decorated, and feastings, dogs, and hawlvs, provided. The var- ' Miilm. 56.— Iloved. 406. PEuion.J EDGAR. O.'J riors exclnim at these things, and the people nmniuir, but the proHigato r<^j'>ice; and you — j^ou neglect — ^you sj)are them — you diss'-riible! It is time to act against those who have counteracted the divine law. I have the sword of Constantine, you of Peter. Let us join sword t2.— Cara.l. 5S. P<-i-'oi..J EDGAR. 59 lie not only cedefl the district of Lothian, extending from the Tweed to the Forth, bnt gave one hundred ounees of pure gold, and many silken ornanuMits, with rings and pr(>cious stones.^ An anecdote of these princes is recorded descriptive of the energetic character of Edgar. His person vvas small and thin, and by no means indicative of his mental powers. Kenneth liai)pened one day carelessly to remark, that it was wonderful so many provinces should ol)ey a man so insignificant. These words were carried to the king ; he immediately conducted the offender apart into a wood, and proddcing two weapons, bade him take his choice. " Our arms shall decide," said lie, " which ought to obey the other ; foi it will be base to have asserted that at a feast^ which you cannot sup- port with your sword."'" It was one of the conditions on which Ken- neth received the county of Louth, that he should come every year to Edgar's principal feast ; and for his accommodation several houses were provided for his entertainment during his journey. The hasty remark that had incurred the royal displeasure was brought to his recollection by this appeal to the laws of honour ; he apologised for it as a joke, and the matter ended amicably. _ Edgar expired in the thirty-third year of his age. He was twice mar- ried. By Elfleda, his first wife, he had Edward his successor, and a daughter, who became a nun. Elfrida bore him two sons, Edmund, who died before him, and Ethelred. This monarch, as an acute historian has remarked, was rather the king of a great nation in a fortunate era, than a great prince himself. His actions display a character ambiguous and mixed. In some things he was liberal to profusion, in others mean, arrogant and vicious. His reign has been celebrated as the most glorious of all the Anglo-Saxon kings ; but some allowance must be made for the hjq^er- bolic praises of monastic gratitude by which it has been emblazoned. No other sovereign, indeed, converted his greatness into such personal pomp ; and no other, we may add, was more unfortunate in his posterity. VVith his short life the gaudy pageant ceased ; ajid all the vast domi- nions m^ which he had so ostentatiously exulted, vanished from his children's grasp. His eldest son perished by the intrigue of his beloved Elfrida, — anotherfell by the hand of an assassin, — and his youngest reio-ned only to show his own imbecility, and ruin the nation he had attempted to govern. On the whole, recollecting the advantages and facilities which Edgar inherited, we must say that it was the fortuitous chrono- logy of his existence, rather than his own talents or wisdom, that has adorned his name with a celebrity, which less favourable circumstances denied to his predecessors. " I'lie Noitliumbrian kinss had extended their conquest to the Forth f Rede iv 2G^ but there is ittle reason to believe that the possession of Lothian ^vas easily retained m t MS time._ Perhaps Kenneth demanded the cession of this district as a'ri^ht rath r than solu-ited >t as a favour. Certain it is that it was finally ceded to hi,u on'^the sin-l« condition that us inhabitants should be permitted to retain their Uugun-o law= a7d ^n- P;"^' "°' '^"' sufficiently account," inquires Lingard, " for the'previlenc ot tiie Lnghsh language ia the Lowlmi 's of ScoUaild ^- prevuenc '" Malm. 59. GO POLITICAL SERIES. [Firsi HORN A. D. 959. DIED A. D. 978. Edward, surnamed the Maityr, was only fifteen years of age at flie time of his father Edgar's death in 975. Though the eldest surviving son, his accession did not take place without much difficulty and op- position. He had indeed the advantage of being nominated successor in his father's will ; he was approaching manhood, and might soon be able to take the reins of government into his own hands ; he had the svipport of the principal nobility, who dreaded the imperious temper and ambi- tious aims of Elfrida; and as he seemed inclined to subserve the views of the new monks, his interest was espoused by Dunstan, whose char- acter for sanctity had given him the highest credit with the people. But he had formidable obstacles on the other hand to encounter. El- frida his step-mother attempted to secure the throne for her son, Ethelred, a child of seven years old. She affirmed that Edgar's marriage with the mother of Edward was liable to insuperable objections ; and as she had possessed great influence with her husband, she had found means to attract adherents who seconded all her pretensions. Even in the church a faction had risen against him. Dunstan had succeeded in excluding the ancient ecclesiastics from their seats ; but he had not reconciled the M'hole nation to the severity of the measure, or to his own administration ; and on the death of the late king, an attempt was made to humble his power, and to restore the clergy. It was of vast importance to this aspiring prelate and the monks, to place on the throne a king favourable to their cause ; and to cut off all hostile pre- tensions, Dunstan, as executor of the king's will, resolutely anointed and crowned the young prince at Kingston.^ This bold measure superseded the claims of Ethelred, and the whole country submitted to him without farther dispute. The quarrel, however, between the two religious sys- tems became more vehement ; and though Dunstan had got Edward crowned, he could not recover the alienated minds of the nobles whom his innovations and his arrogance had provoked. The secular clergy had many partisans in England who wished to support them in the possessions of their convents and of the ecclesiastical authority. On the first intelligence of Edgar's death, the governor or duke of Mercia expelled the Benedictine order from all the monasteries within his juris- diction ;^ while the dukes of East Anglia and Essex protected them within th(>ir respective territories, and insisted on the execution of the laws enacted in their favour. Nothing but tumult and confusion ensued. Elfrida joined the party of the seculars who had got hold of the monas- tic possessions, which they distributed to the governors in return for their support. Dunstan, on the other hand, expelled the clergy who h.id been reinstated; an J to quiet the discontent which his violence had excited, as well as to maintain his own ascendancy, he had recourse to an infallible test in times of ignorance, — the miraculous aid of superstition Different synods were convened, which, according to the practice of the age, consisted partly of ecclesiastics, and partly of nobility ; yet the ' xAIaihos Cliron. 151.— Eadmeri Vit. 220. ' Iiioulf. 5+.— Malm. 61. ri;iMoi..] EDWARD THE MARTYR. 01 lieiu'dictiiie party niij^lit have boon foiled, for tlie secret wishes, if not the declared sontimoiits of the loading men in the nation ajjjjcar to have been against them, had they not had recourse to invention and pious forgeries to sustain their cause. The reputation of their pretended (jaiictity made their miracles the more easily swallowed by the populace. By such proceedings, Diinstan taught others to tight hiin with his own weapons, by practising similar crimes. Edward was subjected to his power, but the ambitious Elfrida still cherished the guilty wish of ele- vating her son, and unfortunately the divided state of the kingdom and tlie vindictive spirit of the nobility gave power to her malice. The death of Edward was conspired, as the only avenue to the completion of her hopes. And what adds to the infamy and the hardened enormity of her conduct, is the uniform kindness with which that prince had always treated her. Though she had opposed his succession, he always showed her marks of great regard. He gave her all Dorsetshire as a dower, with a royal dignity annexed to it, and towards her son he expressed on every occasion the most tender affection. The fate of this amiable but too confiding prince was memorablf and tragical, and his own unsuspecting temper facilitated the execution of the plot ; for being endowed with an amiable innocence of manners, and having no impure intentions of his own, he was incapable of enter- taining suspicion against others. He was one day hunting in Dorset- shire, near Wareham, a few miles from which stood Corfe-Castle, the residence of Elfrida and her son. His companions were dispersed in pursuit of the game, and, in the course of his sport, Edward approached the cons))icuous walls of the mansion. Thither he rode unattended, to pay a visit to the young ])rince and his mother. His arrival ])resented her with the opportunity which she had so long sought. The plan was hastily settled. The king was received with apparent kindness, and invited to enter ; but he declined to alight, merely desiring some re- freshment, and requesting to see his brother. A cup of mead was brought him, and while raising the liquor to his lips, a wretch, the servant of Elfrida, stealing behind, stabbed him in the back. Feeling himself wounded, he put spurs to his horse to escape the assassin, or hurry in quest of his companions. But the dagger had been too successful ; becoming faint with loss of blood, he fell from the saddle, his foot stuck in the stirrup, and the frightened steed dragged him along till he expired. His friends tracked his course by the blood; the mangled body was found and privately interred at Wareham, by his servants. It was soon after removed and buried at Shaftesbury, by Dunstan and the governor of Mercia.^ Thus fell Edward the Martyr, by 'the foulest deed,' as the chronicles of the time say, that ever stained the English name. He was in the fourth year of his reign, and the uineteenth of his age. " (;iiroii. Salt. 121, i;?o. — M;ilm. Si. 62 POLITICAL SERIES. [Fiu? PORN A. D. 970 DIED A, D. 1010. Ethelred succeeded to the throne in 979 ; but the means by v/hic;h he obtained the crown had an unfavourable effect on his reputation and his reign. Historians have given him the epithet of the Unready ; but the appellation appears to have been suggested not from any act of his own, but, almost as soon as he was born, by Dunstan's malevolence ; for, when he took Ethelred from the font, he exclaimed with his usual vehemence, that " the babe would prove a man of nought ;" and he never concealed the dislike which he entertained towards the son of Elfrida. The triumph of the murderer of Edward was short ; and in attempting to subvert the daring prelate by such a deed she failed. Dunstan reta;ined his dignity, and even his popular influence ; for what nation could be so depraved as to patronise a woman who, at her own gate, had caused her step-son to be assassinated? After no long inter- val, Dunstan excited the public odium and the terrors of guilt so suc- cessfully against her, that she became overwhelmed with shame, and took refuge in the vail and in building nunneries from that abhorrence which will never forsake her memory. There is no reason to suppose that Ethelred, a child of eleven years of age, had in any way aided or as- sented to the murder of his brother ; and, when the nobles and clergy had acknowledged him king, according to the usages of the constitu. tion, Dunstan, whatever may have been his private dislike, was com- pelled to assist at the ceremony. Probably he might have set up a jiretender, if any such could have been found ; but Ethelred was the only remaining scion of the royal stem. But he showed the spirit of opjiosition that rankled in his bosom ; for, when he placed the crown on the head of the youthful monarch, he accompanied it by a curse : — " Even as by the death of thy brother thou didst aspire to the king- dom, hear the decree of heaven. The sin of thy wicked mother, and of her accomplices, shall rest upon thy head ; and such evils shall fall upon the English as they have never yet suffered from the days when they first came into the isle of Britain, even until the present time."' These invectives were a most inauspicious augury for a new reign ; and his imprecations, though they arose obviously out of his aversion to- wards the prevailing party, had a very deleterious influence on the nation. The prophecy, like many others, was well-calculated to in- sure its own accomplishment. By persuading the people to attribute tlieir misfortunes to the government, he weakened their power of re- sistance so long as Ethelred was on the throne ; and he also directly instigated them to desert their monarch as the cause of the evils to which they were exposed. Accordingly, the great national honour and felicity which had accumulated under his predecessors, dwindled away from the period of his accession. The splendid jjrospects grew darker and darker, until the night of calamity settled down with all its horrors. Its approach w?j5 foretold and invited by a disordered countiy, a di- ' luffu!!-. 50(i Period.J KTHELEED. 63 vitled court, and tai incapable sovereign. England \vas already pre- pared to succumb to any foreign enemy ; and the misery and confu- sion wliieh ensued, and wiiich, in fact, opened the way for the ontire subjugation of tlie country by the Normans, if not occasioned by the very worils of Dunstan, were yet extremely enhanced by the effect of his denunciation. Ethelred, deprived of the confidence of his sub- jects, could not lead them to their own defence ; and their distrust of their sovereign involved the Mdiole state in a sort of anarchy. For a considerable time, England had enjoyed a happy freedom from the depredations of the Danes, who had changed the scene of their piracies to the north of France. The repression of their excursions, like the ilannning of water, had accumulated an overgrown population at home; and these inherited from their fathers the same inveterate habits oi war and plunder. A favourable era had occurred, and the second year of Ethelred's reign was distinguished by the re-appearance oi those enemies whom the courage and wisdom of Alfred and his suc- cessors had exiled from the English coast. By way of experiment, seven vessels landed near Southampton, M'here the robbers having laid waste the country, and enriched themselves with spoil, departed with impunity. The leader of this expedition appears to have been Sweyn, the son of the king of Denmark. Banished from home by his father, lie was in the full vigour of youth ; and the assistance he had at his command rendered him a formidable invader to a country unpre- pared for defence either in the council-hall or in the field. Next year another detachment of tlie northern host invaded Mercia ; Chester wai- taken, London was burnt, and the whole coa^t from the Mersej'^ to the Thames was ravaged by these insatiable plunderers. Still the Danes (lid not act in concert with each other; and their fleets, or rather their squadrons, were frequently very small. Thus Dorsetshire was in- vaded by three ships ; and if we estimate their crews at six hundred men, we shall probably overrate their numbers. Any reasonable de- gree of vigour would have been sufficient to repel so contemptible a force. The kingdom was flourishing in abundant population ; its mi- litary strength was entii'e, and its government was undisputed ; but its ■idministration was in weak hands ; and, at a time when unanimity was requisite, great dissension prevailed. While the country was smoking with the fires kindled by the invader's, Ethelred was engaged in petty disputes with his subjects. He had (piarrelled with the bishop of Ro- chester, and ravaged the lands belonging to that see, and even laid siege to the town ; but, on receiving payment of a sum of money, he desisted fi'om further hostilities. About the same time Alfric, gover- nor or earl of Mercia, a powerful but treacherous nobleman, had en- gaged in a conspiracy against Etheh'ed. He was condemned by the Wittenagemot ; his pro])crty was confiscated, and he himself being out- lawed, was banished from tlie country. The only part of England in which the Danes met with any effectual resistance was in East-Anglia. In 991 a large force, commanded by Justin and Gurthmund, attacked Ipswich,^ and advanced through the defenceless country as far as Mil- den. Here Brithnoth, governor of Essex, bravely opposed them with a small body of warriors ; but they were defeated, the noble cliiefhimseli ' TiinitT's Ajigl. Sax. Hist, vol. iii. p. «yH. U4 POLITICAL SEEIES. [Iiesi being slain. The spoilers extended their devastation unmolested ; so completely had courage and patriotism already departed from England In this extremity Ethelred, instead of rousing his subjects to inci'easeci activity, or marching at the head of a new army, adopted tlie shame- ful expedient of buying off the invaders. Siric, archbishop of Canter- bury, and successor of Dunstan, was the adviser of this unworthy and fatal measure. His argument was, that as the Danes only came for booty, it would be wiser to give them what they ^vanted ; and in this pusillanimous opinion he was joined by many of the degenerate nobles. Ethelred accordingly purchased their retreat at the expensive bribe o\ ten thousand pounds.^ The effect of this imprudence was such as might have been anticipated. The Danes departed ; but they apjieared next year in greater numbers off the eastern coast. The bribe that had gratified their own avarice told them that England abounded with gold, but that her Avarlike spirit was no more. It was like a beacon of attraction planted on her clifl's, encoviraging needy adventurers to plunder with impunity, and retire with wealth. This concession laid the foundation of a permanent burden on the country ; for, it is noticed by the annalists of the time, as having produced the evil of direct taxation, the tribute of Dane-gelt being raised by assessments on the land. " We now pay (says a chronicler of the twelfth century) that from custom which terror first extorted from the Danes."* The im- positions were not remitted when the necessity had ceased to exist. Ethelred, meanwhile, became sensible of his mistake, and when sober reflection had time to operate, the right means of tlefence were put in action. The Witan, or great council of the nation, had assembled, as being determined to give battle to the enemy; and a powerful fleet was constructed at London, and well-manned with chosen troops. But the wisdom of this measure was again baflfled by the treachery of the joerson selected for the command. This was no other than Alfric, who, during his banishment, had employed every intrigue that could either restore him to his former independence, or prevent every success that might tend to establish the royal authority.^ If the exile of this turbulent chief was a proof of the rebellious spirit of Ethelred's nobles, his speedy restoration to the government of Mercia was a still greater evidence of the weak and vacillating policy of the court. The English had formed the plan of suiTounding and destroying the Danish fleet in har- bour, but the whole scheme was foiled by the pei-fidious Alfric, who privately informed the enemy of their danger, and when, in consequence of this intelligence, they quitted their station and put to sea, he con- summated his villany by deserting to them, with the squadron under his command, the night before the engagement. The rest of the Anglo Saxons pursued but could only overtake one vessel. Another division however met, and bravely attacked some of the enemy's ships before they could reach the harbour. The capture of Alfric's vessel crowned their victory, but its ruthless master with some ditticulty elTected his escape, and was again replaced in his honours. This instance of gross perfidy Ethelred avenged by seizing his son Alfgar, and ordering his ' rinon. Sax. 126.— Hovtd. 2J5.— Wilk. L.L. Sax. ♦ Hunt. 367. » CiiJon. Sax. 127.— IVJalni. 36. Picuion.J ETIIELKED. eyvs to bo j)ut()Ut, — a cruel punishuient of the innocent, for tlie niisdetds ot' the guilty.*' Next year fresh swarms of invaders, from Denmark and Norway^ were precipitated on the sliores of England, under the renowned kings Sweyn, and Olave or Olaus. Sailing up the liumber, tiiey spread tlieir devastations through Liucohislure on the one hand, and Northunibriaon the other. A numerous army was assembled to o])pose them, and a general action ensued, but the English were deserted in the battle by the cowardice or treachery of tlieir three leaders, all of them of Danish extraction, who gave the example of a shameful Hight to the troo})s under their connnand. From thence the jjirates ventured to attack the centre of the kingdom ; and entering the Thames in ninety -four vessels, laid siege to London, but the braver}'- of the citizens compelled the as- sailants to desist. Though repulsed here, they laid waste Essex, Kent, Sussex, and Hampshire; and having procured horses, they were thereby enabled to spread the fury of their outrages through the more inland districts. In this extremity, Ethelred and his nobles had recourse to their former expedient. Instead of meeting them on the field, he sent to know the sum that would stop their depredations. Sweyn and Olave agreed to the terms, and peaceably took up their quarters at Southampton, where sixteen thousand pounds were paid them, literally for the purpose of inviting them to further mischief. Every payment thus made, told them that a repetition of the same aggressions would lead to a similar compliance on the part of the enemy. It was a stipulation in the treaty, that Olave should be baptized; he was invited to Ethelred's court at Andover, where he was treated with honour, and during his visit ne received the Christian rite of confirmation, and was dismissed w/th rich presents. He here promised that he would never more infest the English territories, and he faithfully kept his engagement." The army of Sweyn had wintered at Southampton ; afiter three years, respite they renewed their excursions. They entered the Severn and having committed spoil in Wales, CornMall, and Devonshire, sailed round to the south coast to complete the devastation of these two counties. Spreading themselves eastward, they ravaged the isle of Wight, entered the Thames and the Medway, and laid siege to Rochester, where they defeated tlie Kentish men in a pitched battle. The weakness of the king, and the treachery or want of concert among the nobility, frus- trated every endeavour to arrest the progress of slaughter and burning. Again they offered to " buy peace," and another pre'carious truce was purchased for twenty-four thousand pounds, together with the usual condition, more degrading still, of " feeding" these insatiable invaders who wasted and impoverished the country.* Fifty thousand pounds had now been paid as Dane-gelL^ Each pound, as we learn from a modern writer of antiquarian research, was then equivalent, in weight of silver, to somewhat more than three pounds of our nominal currency. But the intrinsic worth affords no adequate measure of its real value, and the worth of fifty thousand pounds in the reign of Ethelred, will be under- " Flor. 366.— Malm. 35t ' Malm. 63.— Chron. Sax. 129. » Cliroii. Sax. U2. " Dcbne-yold, Dame-gcotd, in Latin Dcviie-giMnm. Tlie name was also civer to a La:< levied lur Uie payineiil of iJiose forces which Were raised to resist liie Danes. I. I 6G POLITICAL SERIES. [FiitsT stood by knowing that this sum would have purchased about one million two hundred thousand acres of arable land, together with such rights and privileges in the common lands and woods belonging to the inclosed lands, as may be considered to have trebled the superficial admeasure- ment." About the year 1000 two circumstances seemed to operate in favour of the spiritless Ethelred. A quarrel had arisen between Sweyn and Olave, and their respective forces came to action near the island of WoUin. But the bravery of Olave could not compensate for his great inferiority of numbers. His ship was surrounded, and disdaining to be taken prisoner, he leapt into the sea, and disappeared from the pursuit : thus giving room for the wild legends of the north to suppose his escape, and cherish him a living recluse on some distant shore.^^ Another diver- sion which augured well for England, was the departure of the Danes for Normandy, where they had been invited by their countrymen, at that time hard pressed by the arms of Robert king of France. At the same time, with a view of strengthening his interest by foreign alliance, he married Emma sister to Richard II, duke of Normandy, It was shortly after this match, on the ' Mass day,' — November 13th, 1002, — that Ethelred gave the fatal order to massacre all the Danes within his dominions that were subject to his power. This wicked act, as useless as imbecility could devise, and as sanguinary as cowardice could perpetrate, arose out of a most mischievous policy. From the reign of Athelstan the kings of Wessex had been accustomed to encourage the resort of Danish adventurers, whom they retained as their own body-guard or household troops. It is said that the kings exerted the prerogative of quartering one of these satellites in every house. This circumstance, while it extended the massacre, rendered its execution more practicable. Secret letters from the king were despatched to every city, commanding the people at an appointed hour, on the day of the festi- val of St Brice, when the Danes usually bathed themselves, to fall upon them suddenly, and either destroy them by the sword, or consume them with fire. This order was the more atrocious, as the Danes were living peaceably with the Anglo-Saxons, and, as Malmsbury says, it was mis- erable to see every one betray his guest. The command, horrible as it was, met with a ready obedience. All the Danes dispersed througii- out England, their wives and families, even their youngest infants, were butchered without mercy. The rage of the populace excited by so many injuries, sanctioned by authority, and stimulated by example, made no distinction between innocence and guilt, spared neither age nor sex, and was not satiated without the torture, as well as death of the unhappy victims. Even those who had intermarried with the families who received them were not exempted from this inhuman proscription. Gunhilda, the sister of Sweyn, a woman of high spirit and beauty, who had espoused an English earl and embraced Christianity, was by tlie advice of Edric, earl of Wilts, seized and condemned to death l)y Ethelred, alter witnessing her husband and son slain in her presence She foretold in the agonies of despair the consequences of the bloodj tragedy, and that her murder would soon be avenged by the total luin '» Palgrave s Hist. vol. L p. aS7. " Chiuii. Sax. 127— 129— Saxi.. Gram. 184— I.S9.— Snoire. 33+— S4.=i. I'niMOD.] EraELEED. of tlu! Eiiglisli nation.'* Never was prophecy better fulfilled ; and nevei did barbarous policy prove more I'atal to the autliors. Strange as it may seem, that a plot so extensive should be planned ami executed without discovery, yet this is not one of those; stories of atrocity con- cerning which any scepticism can be indulged. There is no doubting or denying its reality. William the Conqueror afterwards employed ' the murder of St Brice's day,* as a watch-word or incentive to hL< Norman nobles, in urging them to avenge the blood of their kinsmen The intelligence conveyed to Sweyn was an additional stinmlus to le- new hostilities ; nor did he long delay the provoked invasion. Next year (1003) he appeared off the western coast, and threatened to take ample revenge lor the slaughter of his countrymen. Exeter fell into his lumds from the negligence or treachery of Earl Hugh, a Norman, who had been made governor by the interest of Queen Emma. He proceeded through the country to Wilts where the Anglo-Saxons ntet him ; but the connnand of the troops had been intrusted to Alfric, al- ready notorious for his pertidy, and his misconduct again frustrated the chance of success. The instant the battle was about to commence he affected a sudden illness and declined the contest. Disgusted and disap- pointeil at the desertion of their leader, the English fell into disorder and abandoned the field. Alfric soon after died, and was succeeded both in his civil and military capacity by Edric, a greater traitor than he, who had married the king's daughter and had gained a total ascen- dancy over him. For four years in succession did the Danes repeat their incursions, until the country was reduced to the brink of ex- ti^-me misery. The wretchedness of the inhabitants was at the same time aggravated by a severe famine, arising partly from the bad seasons, and partly from the decay of agriculture ; as the face of the country was every where overspread with " fire, flame, and desolation." The means were far from being exhausted of exterminating the Danish in- vaders, had the government been competent to put them in action. But the picture of imbecility and misrule exceeds belief. Every annalist and every writer on the period, have laboured to convey to their readers the sad impression which their minds had received from the spectacle of a nation plunged into calamities so unjustifiably. The words of Turketul to Sweyn are short but descriptive : " A country," says he, " illustrious and powerful ; a king asleep, solicitous only about women and wine, and trembling at war, hated by his people, and de- rided by strangers ; generals envious of each other ; and weak gov- ernors, ready to fly at the first shout of battle."^^ A sermon has been |)reserved, preached by an Anglo-Saxon bishop of the time. Lupus, to his unhappy contemporaries, in which he has left a dismal portrait of the condition of England under the reign of Ethelred. As this prelate Bpake from what he saw and felt, his description is the more valuable, being replete with life and reality, and therefore interesting, far beyond tire lamentations of a (iistant writer. The evils complained of l)y Lupus, are either those flowing immediately from hostile invasions, those which s})rung from bad government, or those arising from the moral depravity consequent on so wretched a state of affairs. Speaking of the Dan;'s, he pathetically remarks: " We perpetually pay them tril)ute, '» M.-Uin. rt4.— Cliron. Sax. 133.— lloved. ISft '^ iMaJin oa G8 rOLITICAI. SEEIES. [Fiksi unci they ravage us daily. They devastate and they burn ; they spoil, thfy plunder, and they cany off our property to their ships. Such is their successful valour, that one of them will in battle put ten of ours to flight. Tm'o or three will drive a troop of captive Christians through the countiy from sea to sea. Nay, often they seize the wives and (laughters of our thanes, and cruelly violate them before the brave chieftain's face. The slave of yesterday becomes the master of his lord to-day ; or he flees to the ranks of his countrymen and seeks the life of his owner in the earliest battle. Soldiers, famine, flames and effusion of blood, abound on every side. Theft and murder, plague and pesti- lence, mortality and disease, calumny, hatred, rapine and the ferocity of our enemies dreadfully afflict us." The evils resulting from mis- government he enumerates at great length : widows frequently com- pelled into unjust marriages, — the poor betrayed, — children made slaves, and exported to foreign markets. He says that for many years men had been careless of their actions and Avords. He complains of the prevalence of perjury, contempt of solemn contracts, and various deceits. He describes the nation as consisting of murderers, parricides and priest- slayei-s ; of men who betray their superiors, of apostates and assassins He mentions the promiscuous crimes of the sexes, villanies, peculations, the slaughter of infants, witchcraft, seditions, plots, and the entire neglect of religious observances." This horrid portrait may be a little too highly coloured ; but the general outline is corroborated by the various annalists of the time ; and as a sketch of the manners and social vices of the age, its truth is unfortunately placed beyond all doubt. In a country so degraded and disorganized, it was vain to expect any firm or effective struggle for independence. Truce after truce was purchased by enormous exactions. In 1007, the Danes obtained a payment of £36,000 ; and next year the listless king oppressed his subjects with fresh imposts. But the pride of the nation was deeply wounded, and the cessation of hostilities was employed in making preparations against the return of the invaders. By law, every proprietor of eight hydes of land was bound to provide a horseman, armed with hauberk and helmet. Every three hundred and ten hydes were assessed to build and equip one vessel, for the defence of the coast ; and as the hydes in England, « ccording to the best enumeration of them which exists, amounted to 243,000, the na"vy must have consisted of nearly eight hundred ships and suits of armour furnished for upAvards of 30,000 men.'^ This assess- ment of Ethelred may be viewed as the remote origin of the well-known tax oi ship-money, so fatal to the despotism of the race of the Stuarts. This vast armament, in addition to the ancient national militia, was sufficient to have driven the Danes for ever from the British shores. But all hopes of its success were disappointed by the factious animosi- ties and dissensions of the nobility. Edric, the new duke of Mercia, had instigated his brother Brightric to prefer an accusation of treason against Wolfnorth, governor of Sussex, father of the famous earl Godwin ; and that nobleman, well-acquainted with the malevolence as well as the power of his enemy, found no means of safety but in deserting with twenty ships to the Danes. Brightric pursued him with eighty sail. '* See Hicke's Dissi'itatio Kpistolaris, fH) — l(ifi. " Turner's AiigL ijax. Jiist. vol. iii. p. 249 I'EnioD.J ETHELRED, ^0 hut. being overtaken l)y a tempest, his fleet was shattered and stranded on the coast. There he was sudih'uly attacked by VVoifiiortli, who l)urnt and destroyed all his vessels. The rest dispersed and retired, and thus j)erished the hopes of England. The feeble Ethelred was little capable of rejiairing this misfortune. The remainder of ids reign ])resents us M'ith nothing but the sacking and burning of towns, the devastation of the open country, and the ravages of the enemy in every quarter of the kingdom. In 1010, the triumph of the Danes was completed in the surrender of sixteen counties, and the payment of £48,000. This measure did not bring the harassed inhabitants that short interval of repose, which they had expected from it. Disregarding all engage- ments, the invaders returned next yeai', levied a new contribution of eight thousand pounds on the county of Kent alone, and murdfTed the archbishop of Canterbury for refusing to countenance their exactions."' As a last resource, the English were compelled every where to submit to the Danish monarch by swearing allegiance to him, and delivering hostages for their fidelity.''' This revolution in the government took place in 1013. Master of the northern districts, Sweyn, committed the charge of them to his son Canute, and innnediately commenced a visit of decisive conquest to the south. Oxford and Winchester accepted his dominion, and London only resisted, because Ethelred was in it. But the presence of the enemy and the desertion of his own subjects soon compelled him to fly. He escaped into Normandy, having already sent his queen and his two sons Alfred and Edward before him. In six weeks the death of Sweyn, at Gainsborough, revived the hopes of his party, and a deputation of the clergy and nobility invited Ethelred to return. But the Danish soldiers had appointed Canute for their king, and he was determined to maintain his father's honour and authority by the sword. He was confronted by a powerful force of the English ; and in revenge for their opposition, he committed an act at once barbarous and impolitic. Sailing from East Anglia he landed the hostages — all children of the first nobility whom his father had received as pledges for the obedience of the natives at Sandwich — and there he cruelly maimed them of their hands and noses.'*' The necessity of his interests and of increasing his army, called him to Denmark, and his return was signalized by fresh depredations. The whole of the southern coast M'as plundered, and he even extended his incursions into the counties of Dor- set, Wilts, and Somerset, where an army was assembled against him under the command of Prince Edmund and Duke Edric. But all these prepara- tions for defence were rendered unavailing by the timidity of Ethelred, who, instead of placing himself at the head of his troops, remained in- active in London under pretence of sickness. This city was now the last fortress of English liberty, and here Edmund determined to make a last stand, but the death of Ethelred threw every thing into confusion. He expired on St George's day, in the year 1016, and in the thirty-fiftii A' his inglorious and calamitous reign. By his first marriage he left two sons, Edmund and Edwy ; the latter was murdered by Canute. The two sons by his second marriage, were innnediately on his decease coiu'eyed into Normandy by queen Emma. The reign of Ethelred is a theme displeasing to the hist.firian. He '* Vjta Elfeci. ]W " Clir.ui. Sax. IW. '" Fior. SH2 70 POLITICAL SEEIES. [I'lRSi was but ten years of age when he attained the crown. He began with ill omens, and Dunstan's curse appears to have constantly haunted his recollection. His want of firmness and resolution has been ascribed to an incident that happened in his youth. The tears of affec- tion which, in the amiableness of his disposition, he shed for the assassi- nation of the martyred Edward, was construed by the stern Elfrida into a reproach against herself. In the heat of indignation she seized a waxen candle which was near, and beat the terrified infant with a dreadful severity, which left him almost lifeless. The anguish he suf- fered he never could forget ; and it is even affirmed, that during the remainder of his life he could not endure the presence of a light. By his pusillanimity and Avant of success he lost his character as a king, and the vices of the man did not redeem the defects of the sovereign. He neglected his Norman qu(;en ; and while his subjects at large suffered from his injustice, his nearest kindred dreaded his violence and rapacity. The writers of the times have ])ainted Ethelred as a tall handsome man, elegant in manners, l^eautiful in countenance, and of a j)repossessing figure and address. Malmesbury sarcastically observes, that he would have made a fine sleeping portrait ; a pretty ornament for a lady's cabinet, though unfit to preside in a council. However deficient in the qualities essential to a great monarch, his incapacity has perhaps been exaggei'ated. Much of it arose from the untoward situa- tion in which he was placed. His eftbrts were paralysed by the treachery of his officers; he trusted and was betrayed. Had he possess- ed less confidence in them, and more courage and energy in himself, many of the disasters that left a stain on his memory, and brought iiis country under the yoke of a foreign master, might have been pre- vented. His subjects would have fought better had he been their general as well as their king. SUCCKKDED TO TUK THRONE A. D. iOIG UIKD EOD. ANN. Edmund, the eldest son and successor of Ethelred, succeeded his fU- tlier in 1016. He received the name of Ironside from his hardy va- lour. Had he obtained the crown earlier, he possessed courage and abilities sufficient to have prevented his country from sinking into those calamities, but not to raise it from that abyss of misery into which it had already fallen. At the time of his accession he appears to have been in London ; and the citizens, together with such of the Witan as were assembled there, forthwith accepted him as their lawful king. In better times he might have wielded the sceptre with dignity to himself and yjrosperity to his people ; but it was his misfortune that he took the helm in a stormy season ; and, before his character and talents could operate to assuage the tempest, he was assaulted with the hostilities of a rival perhaps greater than himself. The versatility of Anglo-Saxons in accommodating themselves to political circumstances is curious, and a lamentable proof of their degeneracy. But a little while since, they had recalled Ethelred from France, and outlawed the Danes for ever; now they again declared that they withdrew all allegiance hum tho Pekioi).] EDMUND TR(JNSn)E. 71 cliilclren of Etlielred; tliey accepted Canute as king, aiid took the oatb of fidelity to him ; and Canute, on his ])art, promised that he would govern according to hiw human and divine;. No feeling of personal dislike could exist towards Edmund Ironside, who, on all occasions, is nu'ntioned vitli praise. With his father's opportunities, at the head ol a tranquil, prosperous, and united people, he might have foiled the abilities of Canute. But he assumed tlie crown amidst a race of dis- orderly, uncivilized, exhausted, and factious subjects, half of whose tcTritory wais in actual possession of the enemy. He had no interval of respite to recruit his strength or reform his country ; and he was basely cut off in the full career of his exertions. In elevating a foreigner to the throne, to the exclusion of their native prince, the convention at Southampton acted irregularly, and gave evidence of that treachery and discontent of which Etlielred constantly complained, and their pro- ceedings show that new ideas of monarchical govermnent were begin- ning to creep in. The assembly considered themselves as competent to alter the succession, to set aside the ancient line, and transfer the crown to another dynasty, demanding at the same time a promise from the new sovereign, that he would rule according to law and justice. As usual on contested successions, the question of the royal title was re- ferred to the sword. The first important struggle between Edmund and Canute was for the possession of London. The Thames was co- vered with the Danish fleet, and the siege was carried on for a long time in vain, sometimes by a part of Canute's forces, and sometimes by the whole. London was, in those days, defended on the south by a wall, which extended along the river ; on the south bank, the Danes ej-i'cted a strong military work, and they drew up their ships on the west side of the bridge, so as to interrupt all access to the city. But Ed- nmnd possessed all the qualifications of a resolute and vigilant chief. He made a vigorous resistance, and when his presence was required elsewhere, the bravery of the citizens repelled the efforts of the be- siegers. While London was thus beleaguered with a hostile fleet, Etl- mund fought two battles in the country, — one at Pen, in Dorset- shire, the other and more celebrated one at Scearston or Sherston, in Gloucestershire. The latter took place about mid-summer, and was fought with determined obstinacy on both sides. Edmund selected his bravest soldiers for the first line of attack, and placed the rest as auxi- liary bodies ; then noticing many of them, individually, he appealed to their patriotism and their courage with that force of eloquence which rouses men to mighty deeds. He conjured them to remember their country, their beloved families and paternal habitations ; for all these they were to fight, — for all these they would conquer. To rescue or lose for ever those dear objects of their attachment would be the alter- native of that day's struggle. He represented to them their country overrun, their kindred massacred, and the insolence of oppression everywhere trium])liant. In the height of the enthusiasm which his address had createtl, he commanded tlie tnmipets to sound, and the chai'ge of battle to begin. Boldly they rushed against the invaders, and were nobly led by their heroic king. He quitted his royal station to mingle in the foremost ranks of the combat ; and, while his sword strewed the plain with slaughter, his active mind watched v^ith eagei'- iiess every movement of the enemy. He endeavoured to blend the 73 POLITICAL SEEIES. [Fir.sT duty of commander M'ith the gallant bearing of the soldier. On the first day of the conflict, fortune seemed equally poised, — both armies fought with uiiprevailing courage, until mutual fatigue compelled them to separate. In the morning the carnage was renewed. In the thickest of the battle Edmund forced his way to Canute, and struck at him ve- licmently with his sword. The 'shield of the Dane saved him from the blow ; but it was given with such strength that it divided the shield, and cut the neck of the horse below it. Canute was but slightly wounded ; and a crowd of Danes having rushed on Edmund, he was compelled to retire after committing great slaughter. The defeat of the enemy seemed now inevitable, but for the treachery of Edric who had joined the banner of Canute. He had struck off the head of one Osmer, whose countenance resembled that of the English king ; and, fixing it on his spear, he carried it through the ranks exclaiming aloud, " Fly, ye men of Dorset and Devons : fly and save yourselves. Be- hold the head of your sovereign I " The Anglo-Saxons gazed in terror and dismay ; for the king was not then visible, having plunged into the centre of the Danish host. The report of the infamous Edric was believed, and panic began to spread its withering blight through the whole army. At this juncture Edmund re-appeared, but his presence was now unavailing. In vain he threw oft' his helmet, and gaining ai5 eminence, exposed his disarmed head to rally his flying troops. The fatal spirit had taken possession ; its alarms could not be counteracted ; and all the bravery and skill of Edmund could only sustain the combat till night interposed. The victory was yet undecided, but Canute had no inclination to renew the attempt. He left the contested field at midnight, and marched soon afterwards to London to his. shipping.' It seems probable that had Canute trusted to strength instead of artifice, Edmund would have cleared the land of the troublesome Danes. But he employed intrigue, and the pei-fldious Edric was the instrument. Pleading his early connection and near relationship with the king — he had married Edmund's sister — he solii^ited and obtained a reconcilia- tion. It seems strange, and was peculiarly unfortimate, that Edmund should have placed any trust in so notorious a traitor. Yet he not only received him on his oath of fidelity, but allowed him to marshal his forces amongst the ranks of the English, and even gave him a consider- able command in the army. Meantime Edmund followed Canute to London, and raised the siege of the city. A conflict soon followed be- tween them at Brentford, in which both parties claimed a triumph. Baffled before the walls of London, Canute avenged himself on Mercia, whose towns, as usual, were committed to the flames ; and he with- drew up the Medway. Edmund again engaged the spoilers at Otford in Kent, and drove them to Sheppey. A vigorous pursuit might have destroyed all Canute's hopes ; but the evil star of Edric again inter- posed. Eager to decide the fate of the harassed kingdom in one gene- ral engagement, Edmund assembled all the strength of England, aiid at Assandun, or Assington, in the north of Essex, the two armies met. Edmund arranged his troops into three divisions, and, riding round every rank, he roused them l)y his impressive exhortations to remem- ber their own valour and their former victories. He entreated their Chron. Sax. 118, 149.— Flor. 385.- Kn\tli)iga Sasn, 130. pEuion.] EDMUND IRONSIDE. 73 CO ])rotect the kingdom from foreign avarice, and to punish by aTiowfU- feat the enf^nioswhom they had already conquered. Canute brought liis forces gradually into the lield, and, when the hostile array stood front- ing each other, Ednmnd ordered a general and imjjetuous attack. I lis sigour and skill again promised a decisive victory, when Edric, the se- cret ally of Canute, deserted him in the very crisis of success, and Hed from the held uith the men of lladnor and all the battalions under his conunand. This treachery was the harbinger of total defeat. The charge of Canute on the weakened and exposed Anglo-Saxons was re- sistless. The valour of Echnund was forgotten. Flight and destruc- tion overspread the plain. A lew, jealous of their glory and anxious to give a rallying point to the rest, fought desperately amidst surrounding enemies, and were all cut off except one man. In this disastrous con- flict nearly tlu; whole of the ancient and valuable nobility of England perished." The betrayed Edmund disdained yielding to despair. He had still resources, and attempted new efforts to deliver his oppressed and afflicted country. He retired to Gloucester, and such was his ac- tivity and eloquence that a fresh army was on foot before Canute over- took him. His martial spirit was unconquerable, and never did liis magnanimity appear greater than on the present occasion. He could not endure that the best blood of his subjects should be so lavished for his personal advantage. Stepping forward, he challenged Canute to single combat, expressing his pity that so many lives should be put in jeopardy to satisfy their ambition. Malmesbury says, Canute declined the challenge ; but Brompton, Huntingdon, Matthew of Westminster, and other writers, declai-e that he accepted the proposal. The isle oi Olney was the appointed place of meeting, aroimd which tlie two ar- mies assembled. The kings received each other's spears upon their shields. Their swords were drawn, and the combat became close. Their dexterity was equal, their courage emulous, and, for a long time, the duel was obstinately maintained. At last the strength of Canute be- gan to fail before the impetuous Edmund. " Bravest of youths" — he exclaimed, as he felt his powers giving way — " why should ever ambition covet each other's life? Let us be brothers, and divide the kingdom tcir which we contend." This proposal the respective armies hailed with gladness; and if the generous prudence of Edmund yielded, it must have been in compliance with the clamorous wishes of his subjects.^ England was henceforth to be shared between the two monarchs, Canute being as- signed the north, and Edmund the south. The princely competitors ex- changed arms and garments, the money for the Heet was agreed upon and the armies separated. It is a suspicious fact, that Edric, ahvays ready and alert to act against his natural sovereign, was at the head ol the council, by whom the partition of the kingdom was negotiated. The brave Edmund did not long survive this pacification, he was assassinated within one month after at Oxford. The circumstances attending tlii.- barbarous deed are variously given, but there seems little doubt that Edric was the perpetrator. Malmesbury mentions that the villain se- duced two of his chamberlains to wound him at a most private momcnl ' In tliis hatlle full the ealdormen Alfiic, Godwin, Ulfketel, and Ethelwaid.— Cliion, Sax. 150. — Flor. 61S. ' Wcslm. 2(13.— Hunt. 208.— Malmesbury, p. 72, and the Encomium Emma, p. 1(>9, allinu tiial Canute declined Ihis duel. The Saxon chroniclo is silent resiiectiuf; iu I. K 74 POLITICAL SERIES. [Firs. with ail iron hook, but he states this to be only a rumour. Other au- thorities speak with less reserve both as to the king's violent death, and its avowed author.'' The northern accounts expressly state that Edric was corrupted by Canute to commit the murder, which tO(5k place in the night after the feast of St Andrew, in the year 1016. His premature fate was greatly lamented by his people, who now beheld their throne exclusively occupied by those foreigners who had so long been their oppressors. Canute. SrCCEKDED TO THE THRONE OF ENGLAND, A. D. 1017. DIED A. T>. 1035. Canute, from his warlike abilities, surnamed the Brave; from his renown and empire, the Great; from his liberality, the Rich; and from his devotion the Pious; obtained on Edmund's death the sovereignty of all England, at the early age of twenty. On the death of his father Sweyn, at Gainsborough, the Danish soldiers in England had appointed him their king. He was shortly after outlawed, but the fortune of war and the treachery of faction enabled him to triumph over his rival. The murder of Ironside sealed the conquest of the English ; for if they hafl found it impossible, under him, to maintain their libei'ty and inde- pendence, it was not likely after his death they could resist the yoke of the, Danes led by so able a general at the head of so powerful a force. Canute was chosen king without opposition, but his measures to secure the crown were sanguinary and tyrannical. His first policy was directed against the children of Ethelred and Edmund, who might become trou- blesome competitors. He was anxious, however, to cover his injustice with the appearance of law; and before seizing their part of the domin- ions, he summoned a general assembly of the states, in order to fix the succession of the kingdom. He here appealed to those who had been witnesses of the convention between him and Edmund, as to the terms of that agreement. They all loudly testified that Edmund had not in- tended in that compact to reserve any right of succession to his brothers; and as to his own children, that it was his wish that Canute slioidd be their tutor or guardian during their infancy. This evidence was false, but it was extorted partly by force and partly for the purpose of conciliating the favour of the monarch. Canute went farther ; he urged the assembly to take the oath of fealty to him, to which they consented, and immediately acknowledged him king. On his part he gave them his pledge of ])eace and protection. All old enmities were to be buried in oblivion. Full amnesty was granted for all that had been said or done. Ethelred's descendants were outlawed and for ever ex- cluded from the throne. Still the pretensions of these native princes were sufficiently strong to excite the jealousy and apprehension of Canute; and here he was tempted to a repetition of those crimes wiiich in all countries have stained the annals of despotism. One of the scallds or poets of his court has left it on record that he slew or banished all the sons of Ethelred.- The Saxon chronicler assures us that he deter- • Inpul. 57.- -IlisL Kam. 431.— Maliu. 41). I'liRioi).] CANUTE. 75 iniiied at first to exile EcUvy, the brother of Edmund, but finding the KiijU^lish noi)lcs submissive and complaisant, he ventured to gratify his am- l)iti()n by takitiij; the young prince's Hf'e. The nefarious Kdric suggesled to him a man, Etiielwokl, a nol)k'nian of liigh descent, as a fitting instru- ment to accomplish his criminal desires. The king incited him to the guilty deed. " Acquiesce,"' said he, " with my wishes, and you shall enjoy securely all the honour and dignity of your ancestors. Bring me his head, and you shall be dearer to nu^ than a brother." Ethelwold afi'eet- ed to comply, but his seeming readiness was but an artitic(! to get the child into his own power and to preserve his life- Edwy however did not ultimately escape. Next year he was betrayed and j)ut to ileath at the request and by the eonmiand of Canute.'^ Edwy, we are told, bore the singular title of king of the churls, or peasantry,^ — a desig- nation which eoukl have no reference to a real dignity; and we can only conjecture that it was a name given him on account of his popularity with the lower classes, — a circumstance which would be the more likely to excite the jealousy of the Danish Sweyn. Edric persisted in his re- lentless hatred to the family of the late king, and advised Canute that the two sons of Ironside, Edmund and Edward, should also be sacrificed. A feeling of shame rather than of compunction, and a fear of rendering his government odious if he despatched them in England, prevented him I'rom adopting this advice without some measure of precaution ; he resolved to send them to his ally and vassal the king of Sweden, intimat- ing his desire that as soon as they arrived at his court these objects of his suspicion should be put to death. The children's innocence moved the pity of the Scandinavian chief, who had too much humanity to be a deliberate murderer. But being afraid of incurring the displeasure of Canute by continuing to protect them, he sent them to Stephen king of Hungaiy,* by whom they were honourably treated and well-educated. The younger brother died; but Edward was married to Agatha, daughter of the emperor Henry II. and the fruits of this union were Edgar, Atheling, Christina, and Margaret; the latter of whom after- wards became tlie wife of Malcolm king of Scots; and, through hei", the rights of the line of Cerdic were transmitted to Malcolm's progeny after the conquest of England. The removal of Edmund's children to so distant a country as Hungary, was, next to their death, regarded by Canute as the greatest security to his throne. But there remained two other claimants, equally young in years, but more formidable from the power of their maternal relations. These were Edward and Alfred, the sons of Ethelred by Ennna, then residing in Normandy with their uncle, Duke Richard, who treated them with all brotherly affection. Richard even fitted out a large armament, in order to restore these English princes to the crown of their ancestors ;^ and though the navy was dispersed by a storm, Canute saw the danger to which he was exposed from the enmity of so warlike a people as the Normans. In order to acquire the friendship of the duke, he paid his addresses to his sister. Queen Emma, promising that the children whom he should » Flor. Wigoni. 290, 391. ' Cliron. Sax. 151. ' Hdvefl. 4;]6. — Flor. Wisiorn. 619. Our chroniclers say Solomon kin<;of Ilun^ftry- hm PapebrocJie shows it must havu betii Stephen, nol Suluuiou, who was not born till iil'ier fhe year 1051. Act. SS. Ian. II. 325 * 'VVallingf. 650 76 POLITICAL SERIES. [First have by that marriage, should be left his lieirs and successors to the English throne. Richard acceded to the demand, and Emma was sent over to England, when she immediately bestowed her hand, without reluctance, on the murderer of her husband. The English, though they disapproved of this unnatural union, were pleased to find at court a princess to whom they were accustomed, and who had already formed connexions with them ; and thus Canute, besides securing the alliance of Normandy, gradually acquired by the same means the con- fidence of his own subjects. Duke Richard did not long survive the marriage of Emma. He was succeeded bj^ his eldest son, of the same name, who, dying within a year after him, without children, the duchy fell to his brother Robert, a man of valour and abilities, who sent ai: embassy to England to demand, in the name of his cousins, the young princes, the restoration of that kingdom. Emma was afterwards ac- cused of incontinence, and, accorcling to a well-known legend, she proved her imiocence by walking unhurt over seven burning plough- shares ; but it would be difficult to find a test by which she could be exonerated from the moral guilt of her union with Canute. The great point of his ambition was gained in obtaining possession of the Eng- lish crown. But this was obtained at the expense of many sacrifices. To gratify the chiefs and nobles, he bestowed on them the most exten- sive power and jurisdictions. Reserving to himself only the immediate government of Wessex, he conmiitted East Anglia to 'i'hurkill, or Turketul, whose valour had greatly contributed to the subjection o'l England. Mercia he gave to Edric, and Northumbria to his friend Eric, the Norwegian prince. He made a public treaty of amity with his new subjects ; but witliin a year the solemn compact was violated, for he slew three English noblemen without a fault, and divided their estates among his Danish friends. Many others were put to death on .vhose fidelity he could not rely, or whom he hated for their shameful disloyalty to their native prince, alleging that, once traitors, they ougiit never to be trusted. On the first opportunity, he expelled Thurkill and Eric from their governments, and banished them the kingdom. The treacherous Edric met with his deserts, and his punishment would have been an homage to virtue from any other person than Canute. He had used the profligate Saxon as a bloody accomplice in establish- ing his authority, and Edric imprudently boasted of his services, and murmured at the scantiness of his reward. " I first deserted Edmund to benefit you I For you I killed him!" Canute feit the reproach and coloured ; for the anger of conscious guilt and irrepressible shame came upon him. " 'Tis fit then,"' he replied, " you should die for your treason to God and me. You killed your own lord I — him, who by treaty and friendship was my brother. Your blood be upon your own head for murdering the Lord's anointed! Your own lips bear witness against you." The villain who perpetrated the fact was confounded by the liypocrite who countenanced it. The tone or the gesture of Canute indicated his intentions. Eric of Northumbria was present, and con- formably, as it would seem, to a preconcerted plan, he stept forward and struck the wretch to the ground with his battle-axe. The body was thrown from the window into the Thames, before any tumult coukl be raised among his partisans; and the ghastly head spiked on the highest ^ate of London announced to the people that the felon had now paid Period.] CANUTE. 77 tlie penalty of his misdeeds.'' The reward \v;is suitable to liia multij)hed acts of perfi(iy and rebellion ; antl though the ])unishment of so bjise a traitor might wear the colouring of e(|uity, the same excuse cannot be urged for the many other assiussinatioiis and forfeitures of the English nobility conunitted in the begiiming of Canute's reign, and which have left a stigma of ferocity on the greatness of his character. These pro- ceedings created considerable discontent among the English, who felt that they were really treated as a contjuered p(;oplc. Tlu; Danes, se- cure in the protection of their king, behaved with great insolence. According to popular traditions, if an Englishman and a Dane; met on a bridge, the native was compelled to dismount from his horse, and mak(! way for the victor. We learn from more authentic sources that the Danish possessors of the confiscated property were in constant dan- ger from an irritated people, who saw their lands taken from them and given to strangers, new lords who tyrannized over them, increased their toil, and oppressed them with taxes. The oppressors themselves were in constant terror of revenge. They could not sleep in quietness. The lialls which they had usurped, were garrisoned like fortresses in an enemy's country ; and the law which imposed a fine on the township in which a Dane was slain, attests the general hatred and insecurity which pi-evailed. In addition to the forfeited estates Canute also found nimself obliged to load the people with heavy taxation in order to re- ward his Danish followers. In the year 1018, he compelled the city ol London to pay ten thousand five-hundred pounds; and at the same time he exacted seventy-two thousand from the rest of the kingdom. The misery which these forced contributions must have produced on the exhausted country, might be ascribed to necessity, or calculated to complete its subjugation ; but such cruel exertions of power are a dreadful scourge to the mass of mankind, a terrible aggravation to the evils of poverty. Once fairly master of the kingdom, and freed from the danger of turbulent and rebellious chiefs, Canute seemed anxious that the English should be reconciled to the Danish yoke, by the jus- tice and impartiality of his administration. He sent back the most part of his Danish troops, retaining only forty vessels in England ; he restored the Saxon customs in a general assembly of the states ; in the distribution of justice and rank he made no distinction between the two nations ; and he took care by a strict execution of law to extend equal protection to their lives and propei'ties. The taxes, however, continued throughout the whole of his reign to be levied with great rigour; if the proprietor could not pay his assessment by the end of the third day, the land itself was seized by the revenue-officers, and sold for the benefit of the king's exchequer. With all this it is surprising how soon the Danes gradually incorporated themselves with their new fellow-subjects. Both parties, weary of rapine and revolt, appeared glad to obtain a little respite from those multiplied calamities, the sad consequences of whicli the one no less than the other had experienced, in their fierce contests for po\^ er. So tranquil was England in 1019, that Canute passed over to Denmark and spent the winter of that year in his native country. In 1025 his presence was again demanded in the Baltic, to defend his northern do- * Mitliiu 7^.— Mai. VVestiii. iW~ 78 POLITICAL SERIES. [Fmsi millions from the lieet and army of the king of Sweden, commanded by Ulfr, and Eglaf or Olave. He carried with him a large body of Englisii troops, of which the famous Earl Godwin was intrusted with the command. In the first attempt he was unsuccessful; but the young Godwin liad soon an opportunity of performing a signal service which gained him the friendship of ids sovereign and laid the foundation of that immense for- tune which he acquired to his family. He was stationed next the Swedish camp, and seizing a favourable moment, he attacked the enemy by surprise in the night, drove them from their trenches, threw them into disorder, and pursuing his advantage he obtained a decisive victory over them.' In the morning Canute, seeing the English camp entirely abandoned, imagined those disaffected troops must have deserted to the enemy. But he was agreeably surprised to find them at that very tiijne engaged in pursuit of the discomfited Swedes. He was so pleased with this success and the manner of obtaining it, that he be- stowed his daughter in marriage upon Godwin, and treated him ever after\\'ards with entire confidence and regard. Canute returned, but the Swedes, trusting to his absence, repeatedly rose against him, refused their tribute, and defied his power. In 1028 he made another voy- age to Norway, the crown of which he now claimed as the right of his father's conquest. The detail of his wars in that remote region need not here be narrated. He expelled Olave, who had displease(J the Norwegians by his innovations, and took possession of his kingdom. He descended, however, so far beneath the manly courage of a heror as to corrupt the subjects of Olave from their fidelity by money.'- He exacted for hostages the sons and dearest relations of the chiefs of Nor- way ; and appointed Haco, the son of his friend Eric, to be his viceroy or governor. Haco perished off the coast of Caithness in a storm, and Olave was sacrificed in an insurrection of his countrymen, who took ottence at the laws intended to accelerate their civilization. Ulfr, who was among the first enemies of Canute, obtained pardon and reconcili- ation, but he afterwards fell a victim to the royal displeasure. At a feast in Roschild they quarrelled at gaming ; the indignant Ulfr pru- riently withdrew ; and Canute taunted him with cowardice. " Was I a coward when I rescued you" — he had been the means of saving his life— "from the fangs of the Swedish dogs ?" was the reply of the irritated earl. This reproach Canute could neither forget nor forgive. He sent his mandate, and soon after Ulfr was stabbed in a church which he had entered.^ Canute's next expedition was into Scotland, which he invaded in 1031. During the reign of Ethelred the tax of a shilling a liyde, called Danegelt, had been imposed on all the lands of England. It was imposed also on Cumberland which was then held by the Scots. But Malcolm, a warlike prince, refused payment, observing that as he was always able to repulse the Danes by his own power, he would neither submit to buy peace of his enemies, nor pay others for resisting them. Ethelred was too weak to compel Malcolm to submission ; but Canute, who was not of a temper to bear refusal, appeared on the fron- tiers with a formidable army. Malcolm, unable to resist the united Adam r?rem. ii. 38— Chroii. Snx. 153. " Fli)r. AVi-uru. 3fl:i~Sn3rre, i.7-'t. » Siiorie, 276, 277. I'Kuioi).] CANUTE. 79 sti-(ii<;tli of tlic Engliali ami Danes, a<,n-eu(I that his grandson and lu'lr Duncan — tlie same celebrated by Shakspearc — whom lie had made viceroy of CunibeHand, shouhl make tin; sul)mi.ssion reijuired, and that the )ioirs-aj)pan;nt of Scotland siiould always acknowledge tliemselves vassals to England for that province.' Canute was now in the zenith of his greatness, having the rare fame of ruling over six kingdoms. Emperor of the Anglo-Saxons wius the title which he assumed ; but he could boast that the English, the Britons or Welsh, the Scots, Swedes, Danes, and Norwegians, were sub- ject to his kingly sceptre. Like all sovereigns who owe their elevation to force or the support of a party, he has been represented very dif- ferently by his friends and by his enemiis. As a warrior he was certainly eminent ; and as a foreigner accustomed to exercise despotic power, he governed in England, it must be admitted, with more justice and liberality than could have been anticipated from his origin and ha- bits. Age softened his temper ; while time diminished the necessity for having recourse to many liarsh actions that stained the earlier years of his reign. Luckily for his fame a few incidents iiave been preserved concerning him, which rescue his character from the charge of indis- ci'iminate barbarism, and claim for him the reputation of a lotly mind He seems to have been one of those men who feel that they are born to merit the approbation of future generations, and whose actions be- come sublimer as their names seem likely to be perpetuated. Sen- sual minds which cannot rise above the level on which they creep, may neither believe nor covet an existence after di^atli ; but Canute seeiub to have lived for posterity as well as for his country. It was from some such sentiment as this, that, having in a moment of intemperance killed a soldier, and by that criminal deed violated a law which he had en- forced on others, he felt himself called upon to act, not as an arbitrary king whom none dared to reproach, but as a man whose actions posterity woukl investigate. With a magnaminity, perhaps unexampled, he as- sembled his troops. They beheld him on his splendid throne arrayed in royalty; he descended from his state, arraigned himself for his crime, expressed his penitence, but demanded a punishment. He proclaimed impunity for their opinions to those whom he appointed his judges ; and in the sight of all he cast himself humbly on the ground awaiting their sentence. A burst of tears at this generous humility bedewed every cheek. The jury respectfully withdrew to deliberate as he had required, and at last determined to let him appoint and inflict his own punishment. The king accepted the task ; homicide was at that time punishable by a tine of forty talents ; but he amerced himself in three hundred and sixty, adding nine talents of gold as a farther compensa- tion.^ Great conquerors have generally many flatterers ; and the ex- ploits of Canute, in an age of valour and enterprise, had equalled the most adventurous. Poets embodied in their melodies the admiration of his people, and recorded in strains of adulation those praises with which all Europe resounded. Encompassed with servile ami interested sycophants, he may have felt the influence of vanity or presumption ; but his mind was too strong to continue the dupe or the slave of self-conceit. He had seen many countries and tlif * Foriluii. iv. 41. — (."hnm. Six. 163. * .Sii.xo. (ii;ini. Im. so POLITICAL SERIES. IFmsi more he gazed on nature, the more lie felt the adorable Being who created and governs the universe. The expression of these sentiments m the rebuke he gave his nobles and courtiers is well known. In the plenitude of his glory these fulsome admirers of his grandeur ascribes to liim powers and attributes which belong not to mortals. Canute ordered the throne or chair of state to be placed on the sea-beach, wliile the swelling tide was rolling at his feet. With an authoritative air of majesty he addressed himself to the waters : — " Ocean, the island on which I sit is mine ; and thou art a part of my dominion ! None of my subjects dare to resist my orders ; I therefore command tlite that thou ascend not my coasts, nor presume to wet the borders or my robes !" The monarch feigned to sit some time in expectation ot' submission from his subject v/aves, for the master of so many king- doms might be excusable in calling the sea his realm. But the man- date issued in vain ! He was not the lord whom the waters reverenced or obeyed ; they approached nearer and nearer until they covered his feet and legs with their heaving billows. Turning to his courtiers, he gave utterance to the following remark, at once expressive of their pre- sumption and of his own insignificance : — " Let every dweller upon the earth confess that the power of kings is frivolous and vain I He only is the Great Supreme ! Let Him only be honoured with the name of majesty, whose nod, whose everlasting laws the heavens, the earth, the sea, and all their host obey I" In token of his own subjec- tion to the mighty power by whom the elements are ruled, he took off his crown ; and depositing it in the cathedral of Winchester, he nevei' after adorned himself with that symbol of royalty.^ Among the kingly qualities in which Canute strove to excel, his liberali- ty was distinguished. Master of the tributes of so many kingdoms, he possessed ample resources to gratify his munificence. His benevolence in general had these objects, — charity, literature, and public services. The clergy and the scallds were the only classes in that age who had -Any pretensions to learning, and both have extolled the liberality of Canute. The names of these poets, and some of their panegyrical ef- fusions, have been preserved by the Northern historians. Thorariii was celebrated for the richness and facility of his muse. He gave a striking specimen of this faculty. He had made a short poem on Canute, and went to recite it in his presence. On approaching the throne he received a salute, and respectfully inquired if he might re- peat what he had composed. The king was at table at the close of a repast ; but a crowd of petitioners were occupying their sovereign's ear l)y a statement of their grievances. The impatient poet may have thought them unusually loquacious ; he bore the I'ecital of their wrongs with less patience than the king ; and at length presuming on his ge- neral favour with the great, he exclaimed, " Let me request again, sire, that you would listen to my song ; it will not consume much of your time, for it is very short !" Angry at the fretful petulance of the bard, Canute answered with a stern look, " Are you not ashamed to do what none but yourself has dared, — to write a s/iort jioem upon me ? Unless by to-morrow's dinner you produce above thirty stanzas on the same subject, your head shall be the penalty." The poet retired not « :Mat. Wcstni. 4C9.— Hunting. 364. I'EuiOD.] CANUTE. Si with alarm, for his grnius disdained that ; l)iit with mortification at the public rebuke. lie invoked the <;uar(iian muses of the Scandinavian Helicon ; they showered their dreams upon him, and, before the allot- ted time, he stooil before the king with tlie exacted poem, and re- ceived fifty marks of pure silver as his reward.'' Caimte was not only a liberal patron of scallds and gleemen, but was himself a rea.sonal)lc proficient in that divine art. A ballad which he composed continued i"0 be long afterwards a favourite amongst the conmion {)eople of Eng- land. The subject was the psalmody of the monks of Ely, the swetit and solemn tones of which broke on his ear while he navigated the river Nen in the neighbourhood of the Minster. Except the first verse, all the other stanzas have been lost ; as a curious relic, we may regret that we possess no further specimens of these compositions which entitle Canute to rank as one of the royal authors of England. 'I'he following is the Saxon, almost verbatim : — Merrily tlie monks in Ely suiiK As ro}al Canute sailed along: ' Row on, my knights, row lu'ar the land, And listen awhile the choral song.' Canute was a munificent benefactor to the church ; and the piety or hi^ latter years presents a singular contrast to the occupation of his early life. Having by his conquests attained the utmost height of grandeur, and being at leisure from wars and intrigues, he began to feel the unsatisfactory nature of all earthly enjoyments, and to cast his reflections towards that future existence which it is so natural for the human mind, weary of the splendour and turmoils of this life, to make the object of its attention. Unfortunately the spirit which pre- vailed in that age gave a wrong direction to his devotion. Instead of making compensation to those whom he had injured by his former acts of violence, he employed himself entirely in those exercises of piety which the monks represented as the most meritorious. He built churches, endowed monasteries, and enriched the ecclesiastics. He bestowed revenues for the support of chantries at Assington and other places, where he appointed prayers to be said for the souls of those who had there fallen in battle against him. He even undertook a pilgrimage to Rome, where he resided some time, and obtained from his holiness several valuable immunities. Of this journey — which took place in 1030 or 31 — Canute has him- self given a description in a public document, which he addressed to all the orders of the English nation. He sa}^s he went for the redemp- tion of his sins, and the welfare of his subjects ; that he had projected this visit before, but had been hindered by business and other impedi- ments. " Be it known unto you," he continues in his letter, " that there was a great assemblage of nobles at the Easter solemnity, with the lord the pope John, and Conrad the emperor. There were all the princes of the people from Mount Gargano to the sea, who all received me with dignity, and honoured me with valuable presents. I was particu- larly honoured with various gifts and costly presents from the em- peror, who gave me many gold and silver vessels, with very rich apparel. ' Knytlinga Saga, 14(). 147. I. L 82 POLITICAL SERIES. (Firsi I spoke with the emperor, the pope, and the princes, on the neces- sities of my English and Danish subjects, that a more equal law and better safeguard might be granted to them in their journeys to Rome ; that they might not be hindered at so many fortified passages, nor op- pressed by such unjust exactions. The emperor assented, and Rodolph, the king (of Burgundy), who rules most of the passes, and all the princes, consented that my subjects, whether merchants or travellers I'rom piety, might go and return to Rome without detention or exac- tion. I also complained before tlie pope, and expressed myself highly displeased that such an immensity of money should be extorted from my archbishops when they came to Rome for the pall. It was de- clareil that this should not happen again." After mentioning that these concessions were ratified by oath before four archbishops, twenty bishops, and an innumerable multitude of dukes and nobles, Canute exclaims, " Therefore I return my sincere thanks to Almighty God, that all things which I desired I have prosperously achieved, as I had con- templated ; and have satisfied all my wishes !" The same epistle ex- hibits his character as a king in a very striking and pleasing light. In reviewing hia past conduct with sentiments of regret, and publicly confessing that he intends an amendment, he displays a greatness of mind which kings of such successful ambition have seldom reached. Canute is a rare instance of a man improved by prosperitj'. His worst actions were in his days of difficulty and peril. When he had gained the summit of power and grandeur, his heart became humble, pious, and grateful. His early barbarism may be referred to tuition ; his misdeeds to the necessities of state ; but his latter feelings were the result of his improved intellect, and of a noble mind, enlarged by observation and experience. " Be it also known to all, that I have vowed to Almighty God to govern my life henceforward by rectitude ; to rule my kingdoms and people with equity ; and piously to observe equal judgment everywhere. And if, through the intemperance and negligence of my youth, I have done what w^as not just, I will endea- vour hereafter, by God's help, entirely to amend it. Therefore I be- seech and conmiand all those to whom I have confided the government of my kingdom, that they in no shape suffer or consent to any in- justice throughout my realm, either from fear of me, or from fa- vour to any person of power. I connnand all the sheriffs and gover- nors of all my realm, as they value my friendship, or their own safety, that they impose unjust violence on no man, whether rich or poor •, but that the nobles and their inferiors, the wealthy and the needy, may enjoy their property justly. This enjoyment must not be infringed in any manner, neither in behalf of the king, nor any other man of power, nor on the pretext of collecting money for me ; because there is no necessity that money should be obtained for me by unjust exactions." After alluding to some enemies whom he had pacified, and mentioning that he was returning to Denmark, whence, as soon in the summer as he could procure shipping, he proposed to visit Eng- land, he adds, — " I have sent this letter first that all my people should rejoice in my prosperity ; because, as you yourselves know, I have never spared nor will spare myself, or my labour, when my object Is ihf advantage of my subjects."'* * Spelni. Coiic 537- Pf;uK)i).^ CANUTE. 83 Seiitimonst such as those from a royal pen are highly valuable. Sucli kings give new lustre to their thrones, and earn for thenist^lves a fame more solid and durable than that whieh is built on the oppressions of victories and conquests. Canute's pilgrimage to Rome was signalized by the most profound charity. Everywhere, we are told, " he scat- tered gold and silver with unprecedented liberality." An anecdote has been recorded by an eye-witness illustrative of the humility and bene- ficence of the royal devotee. It occurred when on his journey at St Omer's. " Entering the monasteries" — says the astonished monk who re- lates the story — "where he was received with great honour, he walked humbly ; he fixed his eyes on the ground with wonderful reverence, and pouring out, if I may say so, rivers of tears, he implored the aid ot the saints. But when the moment came of presenting his gifts upon the altar, how oflen did he imprint the pavement with his kisses I How often did he strike his venerable breast ! What sighs I What prayers that he might not be found unworthy the mercy of the Supreme Being I At length his attendants stretched forth his munificent oblation, which the king himself placed on the altar. But why do I say the altar? when I remember that I myself saw him go round every part of the monas- teries ; and pass no altar, however small, on which he did not leave a present, and which he did not salute. Then came the poor, and were all separately relieved. These, and other bounties of the lord Canute, I, your slave, O St Omer, St Bertin I myself beheld in your monas- teries ; for which do you pray that such a king may live in the heavenly habitations, as your servants the canons and monks are daily petitioning."^ This appears to have been no ostentatious or theatrical exhibition ; but the dictate of a genuine and sincere conviction. The incident affords a striking proof how powerfully superstition could sway the proudest minds, and what a hold it had obtained even over the haughty and turbulent passions of men. The four last years of Canute's reign were spent in peace. He died at Shaflesbury in November 1035, and was buried at Winchester. His por- trait has been drawn by the northern writers: He was large in stature, and very strong; of fair complexion, and distinguished for his beauty, his nose was thin, prominent, and aquiline ; his hair profuse ; and his eyes bright and fierce. By Queen Ennna he had one son, Hardicanute, Sweyn and Harold were the fruit of his first marriage with Alfwin or Alfgiva, daughter to the earl of Hampshire ; scandal, however, has assigned her only the place of a concubine ; and affirms that she was not even the mother of her reputed sons. Sweyn, the eldest, was uni- versally believed to be the son of a priest ; and the youngest was thoxight to be of still lower origin, the son of a cobbler.'° Whatever truth there may be in these reports, they affected not the success ol the children. ' }']iK'oin Einroif. 173. '" 'l'uriier"s An^l. Sax. Hist. vul. iii. |). ii{cn them was yi't a secr(!t, tlie two tyrants laid a plan for the destruction of the English ])rinces. Alfred and Edward still continued in Normandy; but the death of their cousin, duke Robert, left them witiiout countenance or protection in that country. On the demise of Canute, Edward, by the assistance of his frienils, had iitted out a fleet and sailed for England, but meeting with most decided opposition at Southampton, he abandoned his native shores and betook himself to his place of refuge. But the artitice of their enemies contrived, soon after, to draw them within the fatal snare. An affectionate letter in the name of Emma — but a forgery of Harold's — was addressed to them, urging one of them at least to hasten their departure for England to recover their paternal dominions. No event, in their destitute situation, could have been more welcome thaw paying a visit to their mother, who seemed to be living in a state of so much power and splendour at Westminster. Alfred, with a few trusty followers, whom he retained in Flanders, proceeded to London, where he was favourably received by the traitorous Godwin. Thence he was conducted to Guildford, unconscious of the deceit. His warlike retinue was artfully separated into little bands of ten, twelve, or twenty men, to be more conveniently entertained at different houses, A tew only remained with the i)rince. Food and wine were profusely given to all till they sought the bed of rest. Their arms were secretly re- moved ; in the morning they were laid in tetters, and about six hundred of them nmrdered, every tenth man only being spared. Alfred was taken prisoner, sentenced to have his ej^es put out, and in that condition, hurried away to the isle of Ely, where death soon put a period to his sufferings.- Edward and Emma, apprised of the cruel fate that awaited them, ffed beyond sea, the former into Normandy, the latter to Bruges in Flanders. The death or exile of these princes, and the absence ol Hardicanute, enabled Harold to triumph in his bloody policy. He took possession without resistance of all his brother's dominions.^ His short reign of four years is signalized by no other exploit except this memorable barbarity. In that single action tlie badness of his charac- ter may be discovered. He died on the 14th of April, 1040,* little re- gretted or esteemed by his subjects ; and left the succession open to Hardicanute, who was invited by a deputation of the nobility, both English and Danes, to return and take possession of the vacant throne * Eiicom. Einin. 29 — 31. Let it lie recollected that this histoiiaii Nvroie within tliiti years after the massacre. His testiniuiiy must overbalance the doubts of Malmsbur) •vlio supijoses the murder of AliVed to have been perpetrated after the deutb of Hhrold ' Inpulf. 61. * Florence says 1037, p 4ase the resentmc^nt of her family. l?y these concessions- the present danger of a civil war was obviated; but the authority of the crown was considerably impaired, or rather entirely annihilated. Sensible that he had not power sufficient to secure Godwin's hostages, the king sent them over to his kinsman the young duke of Normandy. Th(! death of this nobleman, which happened soon after while sitting at table with Edward, rather increased than diminished the authority of his house. Harold, his eldest son, who was actuated by an ambition equal to that of the father, and was his sup(>rior in talent and in virtue, suc- ceeded him in the government of Wessex, Sussex, Kent, and Essex ; and in the office of steward of the royal household, a place of great power. By his bounty and his affability he gained intiuence every day, and Edward, who had not sufficient vigour directly to oppose his pro- gress, tried the hazardous expedient of raising a rival in the person of Algar son of Leofric, whom he invested witli the government of East Anglia, which had belonged to Harold before his banishment. But this policy of balancing parties only created new broils. Algar wa^ expelled by the intrigue of Harold ; and the intiuence of the lattei triumphed over every obstacle.^ On the first insurrection of Godwin, Edward, by the advice of his French favourites, had solicited the assistance of Wil- liam, who had recently succeeded his father Robert as duke of Nor- mandy ; but before that prince reached the coast of England with a Dowerful fleet, tranquillity had been restored. As his military services were no longer wanted, he landed with a gallant train of knights, and was kindly received by Edward, who conducted him with great honour through several of the cities and royal villas, and dismissed him with magnificent presents. Many — with what truth we can only conjecture — have alleged that the real object oi' this visit was the future invasion and conquest of England by William, and his succession to the crown. His family was certainly allied by marriage with that of Edward, and he was himself bound to that monarch by ties of friendship and grati- tude. The Godwins were outlawed, and no competition seemed then likely to arise from that or any other quarter. Besides, Edward was living without a prospect of issue ; and, except one royal youth in Hungary, the throne was left without an heir. The contemplation of these circumstances might excite the hope or the cupidity of William j but nothing is recorded of any plans or explanatory purposes which he might then have formed with a view to his elevation. The abbot Ingulfus, who accompanied him on his return to Normandy, and was ibr several years his confidential secretary, assures us that the idea of suc- ceeding to the crown of England had not yet presenteil itself to his laind But on the return of Godwin, and the banishment of the Nor* ' Fior. Ht:.— CliiHii. Sax. !6fl. 94 POLITICAL SERIES. [First mans, affairs assumed a different aspect. Robert, ari'hbishop of Canter- bury, liad, before Iiis expulsion, persuaded Edward to think of adopting William as his successor: an advice which was equally recommended by the king's aversion to Godwin, his predilection for the French, and his affection for the duke. That prelate accordingly received a commission to inform William of the king's intentions in his favour, and this intima- tion was the light that first kindled his ambition. But Edward, irreso- lute and feeble in his purpose, perceiving that the English would more easily acquiesce in the restoration of the Saxon line, determined to in- vite his brother's descendants from Hungary, with a view of having them recognised heirs to the crown. In this resolution he was the more con- firmed by the increasing power of Harold, and the prospect that the kingdom at his decease would fall a prey to confusion and anarchy. Aldred, bishop of Worcester, with an honourable embassy, was sent to demand the exiled son of Edmund, of the emperor Henry HI. into whose family he had married, and the young Edward, the outlaw, arrived in London with his wife and three children, Edgar, Margaret and Christina. Greatly did the English rejoice on their return, for Ironside had been much beloved ; but their gladness was soon converted into mourning. In a short time the prince sickened and died at London ; and was interred in St Paul's Cathedral, amidst the sorrows and suspi- cions of the nation. In his death there is something mysterious. He had been studiously kept at a distance fi'om the king, and as he was re- garded by Harold a dangerous obstacle to the success of his future pro- jects, there is strong ground to suspect poison, or some unfair agency The premature demise of his nephew, and the unpromising qualities of young Edgar, caused Edward to resume his former intentions in favour of the duke of Normandy; though prudence taught him to post- pone the execution, and even to keep his purpose secret from all his ministers. This choice, disastrous as it afterwards appeared to be irom its consequences, was not devoid of political foresight. Ecbnund witii- out doubt viewed the nomination of the Norman duke as the surest mode of averting the evils of foreign servitude or domestic war. The Danish kings, the pirates of the north, were arming to regain the domin- ions which their great Canute had ruled. At the very outset of his reign Magnus had claimed the English crown. ^V competition at home had diverted Magnus from this enterprise ; but at another time the northern claim might be resumed; and in that event the wise and \'aliant William was more likely to I'csist a Danish invasion, than the inexperience of the infant Edgar. Meanwhile Harold, who had his eye upon the crown, took every occa- sion of increasing his popularity, and preparing the way for his advance- ment on the first vacancy, which from the age and infirmities of the king appeared not far distant. Fortune about this time threw two incidents in his way, by which he was enabled to acquire general favour, and to augment the reputation he had already attained of virtue and abilities. He undertook an expedition against the Welsh, who had long been ac- customed to infest the western frontiers, and after committing spoil on (he low countries, used to retire hastily to their mountains wliere they set pursuit at defiance. With a squadron of ships, and a body of light armed troops to attack them in their fortresses, he soon reduced the marauders to such distress that, in order to avert their total destruction, Pkkiod.] EDWARD THE CONFESSOR. 95 tlu-y made a sacritifie of their princfi, Griffith, whose gory hpail was scut as a trophy to tho Confessor.** Tlic brothers of the iDurdered chief obtaiiifd his doininions, aiid became tlic vassals not only of Edward, l)iit of Ilarokl, to wiiom they did fealty and homage. Tlie next achieve- ment of Harold was iiis suppressing an insurrection in Northumberland h(>aded by his own brother. By tlu'se services having gained tiie ap- plause and the atieetions of the English, he openly aspired to the suc- cession. Nor was his ambition long disappointed, for Edward, broken with age and infirmities, was attacked by a fever on the vigil of Christ- nuis, five weeks after Harold's return from Noithumberland. For three days he struggled against thn violence of the disease, held hi? coui-t as usual, and presided M'ith affected cheeriulness at the royal ban- quets. On the festival of the Innocents, the day appointed for the dedication of the new church of Westminster, which had been the great object of his solicitude during his latter years, he was unable to leave his chamber. The ceremony was however performed greatly to the satisfaction of the pious monarch. Editha took charge of the decorations, and represented the royal founder. But his absence and the idea of his danger spread a deep gloom among the thousands who had assembled to witness the spectacle. After lingering a week longer Edward expired on the 5th January, 1066, in the sixty-fifth year of his age and twenty-fifth of his reign.^ The following day he was buried with great pomp in the church which he had erected, then connected with the palace by walls and towers, the foundations of which still exist. There remains the shrine, once rich vn gems and gold, raised to the memory of Edward by the fond devo- tion of his successors, despoiled indeed of all its ornaments, neglected and crumbling to ruin, but still surmounted by the massy iron-bound oaken coiRn which contains the ashes of the last legitimate Anglo- Saxon king. In person Edwarel was tall and well-made. His hair and skin were remarkably white ; his complexion rosy. In mind he was feeble, and incompetent to the task of vigorous government ; but he had many amiable qualities, and unless acted upon by others, his dis- position in general was well-meaning. To preserve peace and promote religion, to enforce the ancient laws and diminish the burdens of the people, were the chief objects of his administration. He was pious, kind, and compassionate, the father of the poor and the protector of the oppressed ; more willing to give than to receive, and better pleased to pardon than to punish. His time was chiefly divided between prayers and hunting, the favourite amusement of his youth, and to which he was greatly attached. Of his attention to religion various ex- amples are on record. Animated by the superstition of the times, he had bound himself by vow to visit the apostolic see in imitation of Ills predecessors Canute and Ethelvvolf. But the design was opposed by his council on the ground that the king had no children, and that the danger of the journey might expose the nation to the evils of a disputed succession.'" Pope Leo IX. authorised him to commute his in- tended pilgrimage for some other work of piety. With this vic^v he set apart the tenth of his yearly revenue, and rebuilt from its founda- " Flor. 424.— Ingulf. 68— Gir. Camb. in Aug. S;ic. II. 541. ' Chroii. S;ix. I71.-Spt'lm. Concil. 628—637. "^ Spelin. Concil. C"^,S. yG POLITICAL SEEIES. P?irsi tion, as lias been ncjticed, the church of St Peter, or ancient abbey of W'estminster, founded originally by Sebut, but which had been ruined during the Danish wars. His charities were frequent and extensive ; and his efforts to relieve the public distress were truly laudable. The principal calamities of his reign, pestilence and fiiniine, which then occasionally visited every part of Europe, made this beneficence the more necessary. As long as agriculture was in its infancy, every un- favourable season was followed by a year of scarcity ; and while the intercourse between nations was rare and insecure, the wants of one country could not be supplied by the abundance of another. The writers of that age frequently complain of the distress caused by the failure of the crops, storms, earthquakes, and contagious distempers which afflicted not only the cattle, but also the human race. The benevo- lent heart of Edward mourned over the calamities of his subjects, and he eagerly adopted every expedient which seemed likely to remove or to mitigate their sufferings. On one occasion, when his nobles had raised a large sum from their vassals, and begged him to accept it as the free gift of his people, he refused the present as extorted from the la- bours of the poor, and commanded it to be restored to the original contributors. Another circumstance is recorded with pleasure by the annalists of the times, — his taking off the heavy and odious tax, called Dane-gelt, which had been levied with great rigour for eight and thirty years. Ingulfus ascribes the remission of this tax to the ex- treme dearth which raged in 1051, and in which so many thousands ptn'ished. He adds that the royal mind, according to some legendary rumours, was impressed the more deeply on the svibject, because, one day when the collected tax had been deposited in the treasury, and the king brought to see the vast amount, the mass so affected his imagination that he fancied he saAv a little devil jumping exultingly about it. How- ever absurd, his mind was certainly weak enough to believe such a re- verie ; and many about him were interested to frame some device that might give it a foundation. He ordered the whole money to be restored to the people, and no more to be raised on sucli an assess- ment. An equally conmiendable feature of Edward's government was iiis attention to the administration of justice ; and his compiling for that purpose a body of laws which he collected from those of his pre- decessors, Ethelbert, Ina, and Alfred. This compilation, though now lost — for the laws that pass under Edward's nanie were composed af- terwards — was long the object of affection to the English nation ; and so deeply were they impressed with the justice and mildness of his judgments, that the promise " to ol:!serve the laws of good king Ed- ward" was inserted in the coronation-oath of all his successors, until the revolution, when parliament abrogated the ancient form. Ed- ward's partialities, contracted in Normandy, have already been noticed, and the usages that were imported from that country into E.ngland. The Norman hand-writing was thought handsomer than the Anglo- Saxon ; and besides the use of this, he established the mode of testify- ing the royal assent to special documents by adding an impression of his great seal, which was appended to the parchment in addition to the mark of the cross according to Anglo-Saxon custom. Hitherto the English kings never used a seal for the purpose of authenticating their charters. But the custom had been long cimimon in Franco , L'ERiOD.] EDWARD THE COKFESSOR. 97 mid, from the Prankish monarchs Edward borrowed the practice ; thougli the seal itseU' — the original of which is preserved in tlie British Museum — exliibiting the royal effigy M'itli an imperial crown, the sword in one hand and a wand surmounted by a dove in the other, and sur- rounded by the legend Sir/illioii JuJvvardi Aiiglorum Jiasilei, seems rather to have been cojjied from the patterns afforded by the Greek emperors. His reign, though not altogether free from domestic commotions, waa peaceable and fortunate compared with those of his i)redecessors. The Danes, employed in other adventures, attempted not those ineursiony which had been so troublesome and disastrous to former governments The facility of his temper made him succumb or acquiesce under God- M'in and Harold ; and the abilities, as well as the power, of tlu'se noble- men enabled them, when intrusted with authority, to maintain the pub- lic tranquillity. The only foreign war in which Edward engaged was against Macbeth, the usurper of the Scottish crown, condemned by the immortal genius of Shakspeare to share for ever our sympathj' and abhorrence. In 1039, that aspiring thane became the murderer of King Duncan.^' A prince driven by violence from the throne of his fa- thers might justly claim the protection of Edward ; and Malcolm, the son of Duncan, received from him permission to vindicate his rights with the aid of an English army. For fifteen years the power of the usurper discouraged every attempt ; and the fugitive prince resided in Northumberland with his uncle Siward, sometimes called the Great from his great size, and whose sister Duncan had married. A favour- able crisis occurred in 1054, when Macduff, the thane of Fife, unfurled the royal standard, and excited a formidable revolt in Scotland. Mal- colm hastened to join the insurgents ; and Siward accompanied him with a powerful force. Macbeth, abandoned by many of his followers, retired to the fortresses of the north ; and, afler a furious engagement at Lumphanax: in Aberdeenshire, — Dec. 5th, 1056, — in which thousands of both armies perished, victory declared for Malcolm.'" Macbeth fell ; and the crown of Scotland was placed on the head of the rightful heir. Siward lost his son and his nephew, but he carried off much spoil, " such cis no man ever got before I" With this exception, Edward's warfare, in which, too, he was ultimately successful, was confined to appeasing the feuds of his nobles ; and, if he did not altogether pre- vent the interruption, he at least secured a longer duration of internal peace than had been enjoyed in England for half a century. On the whole, Edward must be considered as a popular rather than a great or a powerful monai'ch. The goodness of his heart was adored by his subjects, who lamented his death with tears of undissembled grief, and bequeathed his memory as an object of veneration to their posterity. The blessings of his reign are the constant theme of the ancient chro- nicles. He could not boast of the victories he had won, nor of the conquests Avhich he had achieved ; but he exhibited the more interest- ing spectacle of a king sacrificing his private to his public interests, — and totally devoted to the welfare of his people. Under preceding kings force too often supplied the place of justice, and the country was impoverished by the rapacity of the sovereign. But Edward restored " Miiilros, la(i. " Ilaileh's Aniuls, p. 3. 98 POLITICAL SERIES. [Fissi and enforced the dominion of the laws, and disdained the wealth which was wrung from the labours of his subjects. Temperate in his diet, unassuming in his manners, unostentatious in his person — though in public ceremonies he was adorned with sumptuous array — and pursuing no pleasures but those which his hawks and hounds afforded, he was content with the patrimonial demesne of the crown, and was able to assert — even after the abolition of the Dane-gelt, a fruitful source ol revenue — that he possessed more riclies than his predecessors enjoyed. To him the maxim that the king can do no wrong, was literally applied by the gratitude of the people, who, if they occasionally complained of the measures of the government, attributed the blame not to the mo- narch himself, of whose benevolence they entertained no doubt, but to the ministers who had abused his confidence, or imposed on his cre- dulity. It must not be overlooked, however, that in estimating his character partiality has given a high colouring to the favourable side ; and that, if he was fortunate, he owed his prosperity less to his own abilities than the contingencies of the times. His reign occupied the interval between the Danish and Norman conquests ; he had no exter- nal enemy to encounter ; while his provinces were in the hands of men of talent appointed by his predecessors. Historians were induced to conceal his faults and exaggerate his virtues, from the hatred they bore to the foreign dynasties which both preceded and followed him. He was a native prince, they were strangers ; they held the crown by con- quest, he by descent ; they oppressed and insulted the slaves whom they had made, he became known to his countrymen only by his bene- fits. If he shone with superior brilliancy, his lustre was enhanced by contrast with the surrounding gloom ; his fame was the gift of fortune ra- ther than of merit ; and his reign, though not splendid, was not degrad- ed by conspicuous vices, nor stained by any remarkable disgrace. The surname of the Confessor, by which he is distinguished in history, was given to him from the bull of his canonization, issued by Pope Alexan- der III., about a century after his decease. He was the first English monarch that touched for tiie king's evil ; the opinion of his sanctity procured among the people a belief in the efficacy of the cure, and his successors regarded it as a part of their state and grandeur to uphold the same opinion.'^ sUCCEKDED TO THE THRONE A. D. lOGG DIED EOU. A.NX. Hargi.d, the second of that name, was the eldest son of Earl God- win, and Gyda or Githa, sister of Ulfr, brother-in-law to Canute. He shared during the reign of Edward in the quarrels and misfortunes ol liis father, was pronounced an outlaw, and sailed with his brother to Ireland, where they narrowly escaped with their lives, a severe tempest '^ It contiiuied down to the last century, the celebrated Dr Samuel Johnson informs us that lie was, when a child, submitted to tlie viituous contact of Queen Anne. The piaciice was dropped by the present royal family, who observed that it could no longer !,'ive amazement even to the populace, and was attended with ridicule in the eyes o/ ull men of understandiu';. Tkriod.! IIAUOLD II. 99 havinjij arison in course ot the voj-af^e. The star of his family, however, w^tus only eclipsed for a time. On the disjj^race md expulsion of the Normans, they were restored to th(! royai favour. On his father's death, in 1053, he succeeded to his earldom and the government of the coun- ties of Wessex, Sussex, K(>nt, and Essex. He possessed his father's ambition, but was superior to him in the arts of insinuation and address. By his modest and gentle demeanour, he had acquired the good-will ol Edward, or at least softened the enmity which that prince had so long borne to his family. Instigated by a daring ambition, and gaining every tlay new partisans by his liberality antl condescension, he to(jk every opportunity of extending his authority, even by the dangerous exjKxlient of insinuation. On succeeding to his father's t(!rritories, he vacated the earldom of East Anglia, which was bestowed on Algar, son of Leofric, who held that honour during Harold's outlawry. But Algai's rise to power was no pleasing omen to the son of Godwin, who was indignant that Etlward should have raised a rival by conferring the earldom which he had resigned, for that of his father's, on a hostile famil3\ Algar was, however, accused of treason to the king and the country, though, as most writers assert, unjustly and without any real cause ; and soon after, by the intrigues of Harold, expelled his govern- ment, and outlawed by the judgment of the council. But he was too deeply injured to remain inacti^'e. He fled to Ireland, collected eighteen piratical vessels, and returning to Wales, where Griffith, king of that country, who had espoused Algitha his sister, was then waging war against Harold, they advanced with their combined forces to Here- ford which they burnt. The city was pillaged, 400 of the inhabitants killed, and the cathedral and principal buildings destroyed. Penetrat- ing into Gloucestershire, they were there encountered by Harold, and after much blood had been shed, peace was established, the sentence of outlawry reversed, and Algar restored to his possessions and dignity The truce was of short duration. Harold, taking advantage of Leofric's death, expelled Algar anew, and banished him the kingdom. He wafj again restored by the assistance of his old ti-iends and allies the WeJsh, and a Danish or Norwegian fleet which made a descent on East Anglia plundering the country. But he scarcely enjoyed his triumph more than a year, and his death freed Harold from the pretensions of a dan- gerous competitor. This event exposed Griffith and his subjects to the 'ust resentment of Harold, whose influence had now an undisputed pre- ponderance ; he resolved to punish them, and there was nothing to restrain the full exercise of his abilities. With a marauding fleet he circumnavigated the whole coast of Wales, while his brother Tostig mart hed over by land. Griffith fled ; his palaces and ships were burnt, and the people amerced in tribute and hostages. The means by which Harold obtained such immediate and decisive success, are stated to have been a change in the accoutrements of his soldiers. In heavy armour, the Saxons were unable to pursue the Welsh into their mountains and recesses. Aware of this impediment, and of the difficulties arising fron* the nature of the country, and the fleetness of the enemy, Harold se- lected a numerous body of young men vigor( us and active, ordered them to exchange their usual arms for others of less weight and dimen- sions ; and gave them for defence helmets and targets of hardened leather. By this arrangement, wherever the Britons could retreat, 100 POLITICAL SERIES. . \JinsT Harold could pursue. Leading his troops in the depth of winter, he crossed their snowy mountains, spreading on every hand the desolation of fire and sword. The indefatigable earl proceeded on foot, faring like the meanest of his soldiers, and traversing the countiy from side to side. Neither their forests nor their fastnesses could screen the in- habitants from his pursuit ; and wherever they offered resistance he was victorious. To perpetuate the memory of his successes, he erected, on the site of each battle, a pyramid or heap of stones, with the inscription Here Harold Conquered. By the rapid progress of events, Harold was now become the most powerful subject in England. The advanced life and increasing in- firmities of the kmg gave him the prospect of an early vacancy. The death of the young heir, in Avhich he stands not altogether free of sus- picion, left only one individual between him and the succession, — Edgar, a youth feeble in body and still more feeble in mind, whose hereditary right was sunk in his inaptitude to govern. Another competitor, how- ever, then unknown to Harold, had appeared in the pereon of William the young duke of Nonnandy. It was evident that by descent neither could boast the remotest claim. William was the illegitimate son oi Robert, and nephew of Queen Emma. Harold's connexions with the royal family arose from the marriage of his sister with Edward. Their title lay in their power and ambition ; and in the latter William was et^ual, in the former superior to Harold. There was still one obstacle in Harold's way, which it was necessary to remove : Godwin, when re- stored to his power and fortune, had given hostages for his good beha- viour, and among the rest one son and one gi-andson ; these Edward, for the greater security, had consigned to the custody of William in Normandy. Harold was uneasy that such near relations, under his present circumstances, should be detained prisoners in a foreign country ; and was afraid lest the duke should detain these pledges as a check on the ambition of any other pretender. By professions of obedience and devoted submission to the royal authority, he obtained the consent oi Edward to release them, and with this view he proceeded with a numer- ous retinue on his journey to Normandy. Unfortunately the vessel in which they sailed was driven by tempests and stranded in the mouth of the river Mayo, on the territory of Guy, count of Ponthieu. A barbarous custom had invested the lord of the district with a pretended right, not only to the remains of the wreck, but also to the persons of the survi- vors ; nor were torture and imprisonment spared to extort an exorbitant ransom for the captives. Harold and his companions were seized and conducted to Guy, by whom they were immured in his castle of Beau- vain.^ He found means to carry intelligence of his situation to William, and complained that while proceeding to his court in the execution of a royal commission from the English king, he had met with this harsli treatment from the mercenary disposition of the count of Ponthieu. No circumstance could have happened more propitious to the views of William. He was sensible of the importance of the prisoner, and fore- saw that if he could once gain Harold, either by force or favour, his way to the throne of England would be open, and Edward would have lio difficulty iu accomplishing the favourable intention which he secr*;t.ly ' Ingulf. 68. — Guil. Pictav. 191.— Cliron. de Normiiudii!. I'kuiodJ HAROLD TI. 101 etitortained in his bolialf. Ho cles]>atched a mossenger to Guy (lomatuiiiif; the captive, and that, noblt'inan not daring to refuse, surrendered Harohl, »vho was immediately conducted to Rouen, the ducal capital. In the Norman court Harold was treated witli respect and munificence ; but he enjoyed only the semblance of liberty, and had soon cause to regret the dungeons of Beauvain. The duke, after showing himself disposea to comply with his desire in delivering up the liostages, took, an oppor- tunity of disclosing to him the great secret of Ids pretensions to the crown of England, and oi" tlie will which Edward intended to make in his favour. He desired tlie assistance of Harold in carrying that design into effect ; in return for so great an obligation he made professions of the utmost gratitude ; he promised that the present grandeur of Harold's family, so precarious under the jealousy and hatred of Edward, should receive new increase from a successor who would be so greatly beholden to him for his advancement. Harold, as may well be ima- gined, was surprised at this declaration ; but being sensible that he should never recover his own liberty, much less that of his brother and nephew, if he refused the demand of William, feigned a compliance with his wishes. Compelled by the necessity of his situation, he renounced all hopes of the crown for himself, and professed his sincere intention of supporting the will of Edward in seconding his pretensions, and even did homage for his lands and honours to William as the future monarch of England. But the jealousy of the Norman required more than mere ceremonial profession. To bind closer to his interests, besides offering h'm his daughter Adela in marriage, he obliged him before an assembly of his barons, to take an oath that he would fulfil his pronuses in pro- moting his succession, and that he would admit a Norman gari-ison into the castle of Dover. To render this appeal to heaven more obligator}', he employed an artifice well-suited to the ignorance and superstition of the age. He secretly conveyed under the altar on which Harold agreed to swear, the reliques of some of the most revered martyrs ; and when Harold had taken the oath, he showed him the canonized fragmens, and admonished him to observe religiously an engagement that had been ratified by so tremendous a sanction.^ The English earl was astonished, but dissembling his concern he renewed the same professions, and at length, loaded with presents, but distressed in mind, was dismissed from the court of his rival with all the marks of mutual confidence and esteem. He obtained, at the same time, the liberation of his nephew Haco, one of the hostages. Wolfnoth, however, was retained as a se- curity for the faith of his brother. That Harold was captured by the count of Ponthieu, delivered up, and compelled to swear fealty to William, are indisputable facts ; but the object which originally induced him to put to sea, is a subject of dou])t and disagreement among wri- ters; some alleging that he went to demand the hostages; others that he was employed by Edward to notify to the duke his intended eleva- tion to the English throne ; while a third class, who appear ignorant or incredulous of both these reports, describe his voyage as an occa- sional excursion along the coast, when he was cast by storm on the barbarous territory of Earl Guy. Whatever may have been the motive of this unfortunate journey, Harold no sooner found himself at liberty, " Mem. (!« I'Acad. des luscnp. Tom. viii. 102 POLITICAL SERIES. [Firsi than his ambition suggested casuistry enough to exonerate him from an oath which had be en extorted from him by fear, and which, if fulfilled, might be attended with the subjugation of his native country to a foreign power. lie continued insidiously to practise every art of po- pularity, and by an ostentation of his power and influence, to deter the timorous Edward from consummating the destination of the throne in favour of William. It was fortunate for the views of this aspiring prince, that immediately on his return to England, (1065,) his services were required to quell an insurrection of the Northumbrians. Tostig, his brother, had governed that province with the rapacity of a despot, and the cruelty of a barba- rian. In this rebellion Morcar and Edwin had concurred — two brothers, the grandsons of Leofric, and who possessed great power in that district. Tostig had perfidiously murdered two noble thanes in his palace at York ; at his request Editha had ordered the assassination of Gospatrick in Edward's court; while the recent imposition of an extraordinary tax, as it was universally felt, had armed the whole population against him. In the beginning of Octoljer the insurgents surprised York ; Tos- tig fled, — his treasures and armoury were pillaged, — and his guards, to the number of two hundred, both Danes and English, were made prisoners, conducted out of the city, and massacred in cold blood on the north bank of the Ouse. Elated with their success, the Northumbrians chose Morcar for their future earl, and advancing as far as Northampton, they met Harold on his Avay to chastise and reduce them to subjection. Before the armies came to action, Morcar endeavoured to justify his own conduct and that of his adherents. Finding Harold disposed to listen to their grievances, he represented to him that Tostig had behaved in a manner so unworthy his station, that nobody, not even a brother, could support such tyranny without participating in some degree in the infamy attending it ; that they had been accustomed to a legal admin- istration, and w^ere willing to submit to the king if they had a gover- nor that would pay a regard to their rights and privileges ; that they were freemen, and would not tamely submit to oppression ; that they had been taught by their ancestors to prefer death to servitude, and had taken the field determined to perish rather than suffer the indig- nities to which they had been exposed ; that they only required the confirmation of the laws of Canute, and the appointment of Morcar to the earldom ; and they trusted that Harold, on reflection, would not defend in another that violent conduct which he had never admitted into his own government. This vigorous remonstrance was accom- panied with such a detail of fiicts so well-supported, that Harold found it prudent to abandon his brother's cause, and returning to Edward, he persuaded him to pardon the Northumbrians, and to confirm Mor car in the government. He even married the sister of that nobleman, and by his interest procured Edwin, her younger brother, to be elected governor of Mercia. Tostig departed the kingdom in great indigna- tion, and took refuge with Earl Baldwin, at Bruges, the usual asylum of his family. The nuptials of Harold Avith the sister of Morcar broke all measures with the duke of Normandy ; and William clearly per- ceived that he could no longer rely on the oaths and promises which he had extorted from him. But the artful earl was now in such a situ- ation that he d8 2med it no longer necessaiy to dissemble. His uiode- PERion.J HAROLD II. lOci rate and y eiror, which may be said to have proved his ruin. Expecting the invasion of the Normans in the spring, he had kept his fleet — which some exaggerate to seven hundred sail — stationed off the isle of Wight, and his army encamped in the vicinity. This guard was continued during the summer and autumn ; and so long as it watched the coast, the throne of Harold was secure. But, on the 8th of September, the' want of provisions obliged them to dispei'se ; and the king, being im- mediately after occupied by the Norwegian invasion, neglected to sup- ply and refit his scattered navy. Thus Avas the main obstacle to Wil- liam's expedition removed, and England deprived of its great national bulwark. Had the Normans left the Dive a month earlier, as they ex- pected, they would have experienced a very different reception from the fleet and troops of the enemy which lined the coast. The victory of Harold over the Norwegians was more prejudicial than fa- vourable to his interest. He had lost many of his bravest officers and soldiers in the action ; and he is accused of having disgusted the rest by refusing to distribute the spoil of the battle among them. It is certain that Edwin and Morcar stood aloof; even his wife, Algitha, abandoned him to his fate ; and many of his veteran troops, ti-om fa- tigue or discontent, deserted his colours. His brother Gurth, earl ot Suffolk, remonstrated with him that it would be better policy, in his weakened condition, to prolong the war ; his mother, sad and weep- ing for the loss of her son Tostig, earnestly dissuaded him from at- tempting to give battle ; the chiefs reminded him of his oath of fealty, and that it would be perjury to fight against a prince to whom he had " Matt. WeL «. 1' of the adversary. Tlie battle had continued with desperate obstinacy ; and from nine till three in the afternoon, the success on either side was nearly balanced. Stones and missiles of all kinds were discharged in- cessantly ; but the English soldiers were so well-protected by their targets, that the artillery of the foe was long discharged in vain. A body of Normans had advanced beyond their lines, and was driven back into the trenches, where horses and riders fell upon each other in fearful confusion. More of them were slain here than in any other part of the field. The alarm spread ; and the foot and cavalry of Brit- tany, which composed the left wing, gave way, and betook themselves 10 flight. The panic extended along the whole line ; and the confusion was increased by a rumour that the duke had fallen. It was a critical moment. William found his hopes on the brink of destruction, and he hastened with a select band to the relief of his dismayed forces. Rush- ing among the fugitives, and riding along the line with his helmet in his hand, he exclaimed, " I am still alive ; and, with the help of God, I still sliall conquer!"'^ His presence and boldness restored the action; and the English, who had incautiously pursued the fugitives, were in- tercepted in their return by a body of the enem.y, and not a man sur- vived. This partial defeat was fondly magnified into an assurance of victory. But though William had renewed the attack with fresh forces and redoubled courage, the English columns, dense and inmioveable as a rock amidst the waves, resisted every attempt. They were animated by the presence and example of Harold, who made every possible ex- ertion, and was distinguished as the most active and intrepid among the soldiers of his host, sharing with them, on foot, the danger and glory of the field. The battle again grew desperate. Distant wea- pons were abandoned for closer conflict. The clamour of the soldiers was drowned in the clashing of their weapons and the groans of the dying. The Norman bowmen seeing they had failed to make any impression on the iron phalanx of the enemy, altered the direction of their shafts, and instead of shooting point-blank, the arrows were di- rected upwards, so that the points came down on the heads of the English with murderous effect. Their ranks were exceedingly annoyed by these destructive vollies ; yet still they stood firm, and made a vigo- rous resistance. Disappointed and perplexed at seeing his troops everywhere repulsed by an unbroken wall of courageous soldiers, the Norman general had recourse to a stratagem, suggested by the success with which his flying squadrons had turned on their pursuers. He resolved to hazard a feigned retreat ; and a body of a thousand horse ware onlered to take flight. The artifice was successful. The credu- lous English, in the heat of action, followed ; but their temerity was speedily punished with terrible slaughter. The same feint was tried with equal success in another part of the field ; for the duke with liis main body had rushed between the pursuers and the rest of their coinitrymen. The loss was consideraljle, and thinned the number of the English ; still the great body of the army maintained its position ; for so long as Haroid lived and fought, they seemed to be invincible. During the engagement, William had given the most signal proofs of personal bravery. Three horses had been killed undei him; and he "* Vivo, el vincani, iipitulaiite Duo.— Guil. I'il-. p. Mii2. Period. I HAROLD II. 116 had been compclk-d to <,n"i|)i)le on foot witli his advcrsarJes. In vari ous assaults, his sword liad uiaikcd his path willi cariiafi;(! ; and it i.- said he ropcatediy sought to measure his strc'n<;th with Harold, who. on his part, had also displayed a courage worthy of the crown fijr which he wa^ contending. The sun was departing from the westcri' horizon, but the victory was yet undecidi'd. Two of the bravest of the English leaders, Gurth and Leofwin, had perished by the side of the royal standard ; but so long as the king survived, no man enter- tained the apprehension of defeat, or admitted tiuj idea of flight. A little before sunset, an arrow, shot at random, pit^reed his eye : he dropped from his steed in agony; and the knowledge of his fall re- laxed the efforts of his followers. The splendid laurel seemed now within the reach of the competitor. lie ordered his heavy-armed in- fantry to make a last desperate assault, while the archers, placed be- hind, should gall the enemy thus exposed, and occupied in defending themselves against the swords and spears of their assailants. A furious charge of the Norman horse increased the confusion which the king's wound must have occasioned. Twenty of them undertook to seize the royal banner of Harold, having pledged themselves to die by each other's side. They effected their purpose, but with the loss of half tlieir number. Discouraged and overwiielmed, the English began to give way, A few troops, however, had still the courage to maintain the conflict. The field for a time was covered with separate bands of combatants, each engaged desperately with one another. Here the English yielded — there they conquered ; individuals signalized their prowess, and the battle-axes dealt nuitual destruction. Such was the general enthu- siasm, that, though exhausted by loss of blood and strength, they still (ought on ; the more disabled striving, by their voice and gestures, to rally their friends. For a time, the Kentish men and East Saxons seemed to I'etrieve the fortune of the day. They repelled the Norman l)arons ; but Harold was not among tliem, and William was pushing on with ruthless intrepidity. At length the English banner was cut down, and the papal colours erected in its place, announced that Wil- liam of Normandy was the conqueror. It was now late in the even- ing, but such was the obstinacy of the vanquished, that they continued the struggle in many parts of the bloody field long after dark. The fugitives spread themselves over the adjoining country, then covered with wood and morass. Wherever they could make a stand they re- sisted, obtaining some revenge for the slaughter and dishonour of tlie day. Tiie Normans followed their tract by the light of the moon ; but tlieir ignorance of the country led them into deep and miry ground, where the natives attacked them with unsparing vengeance. Attracted by the cries of the combatants, William was hastening to the place, uhen he met Eustace of Boulogne, with fifty knights, fleeing with all their s])eed. He called on them to stop ; but the earl, w hile he was in the act of whispering into the ear of the duke, received a stroke on the back which forced the blood out of his mouth and nostrils: he was carried in a state of insensibility to his tent. Undismayed by this ac- cident, William led on his men in the pursuit. Darkn(!ss and flight was now the only safety of the vanquished; and thus was won the fa- mous and hard-earned victory of Hastings, which seemed worthy, by the heioic valour displayed on both sides, and by both conunanders, to lie POLITICAL SERIES. jTlRSl decide the fate of a miglity kingdom. The carnage was great. On the part of the conquerors, nearly sixty thousand men had been en- gaged, and of these more than one-fourth were left dead on the field, The number of the English and the amount of their loss, are unknown. The vanity of the Normans lias exaggerated the army of the enemy beyond the bounds of credibility ; but the native writers reduce it to a handful of resolute warriors. The historians of both countries agree, that with Harold and his brothers perished all the nobility of the south of England. Harold's body was sought and discovered. His mother oegged the dead corpse of her son ; and the monk of Malmesbury in- forms us, that William surrendered it without a ransom. Those, how- ever, who lived nearer the time, relate, in explicit terms, that though Algitha offered its weight in gold, a sum which has been calculated, on the average weight of the human body, at eleven thousand guineas, the duke refused.'^ Resentment had rendered him callous to pity, and he ordered the royal carcase to be buried on the beach, adding, with a sneer, "he guarded the coast while he was alive; let him continue to guard it after death." This is the account as given by the chaplain oi the Conqueror, William, of Poitiers, a most trustworthy and competent witness. By stealth, however, or by purchase, the remains of the un- happy monarch were removed from this contemptuous sepulchre, and deposited in the church of Waltham, which he had himself founded be- fore he ascended the throne. The legends of that convent have a dif- ferent story. According to them, the two brethren who had accom- panied Harold, hovered as nearly as possible to the scene of action, watching the event of the battle ; and when the strife had ceased, they humbly solicited the permission of William to seek the corpse. The Conqueror refused a purse containing ten marks of gold, which they offered as the tribute of their gratitude; but he allowed them to bear away not only the remains of Harold, but of all who had chosen, when living, the abbey of Waltham as their place of sepulture. Amongst the loathsome heaps of unburied dead they long sought in vain, — no trace of Harold could be found ; and as they lost hope of identifying his re- mains, they brought his beloved wife Editha, supposing she would best recognise the features so familiar to her affections. The two canons and the sorrowing widow resumed their miserable task in the charnel-field, until a corpse was at last selected by Editha, and con- veyed to Waltham, where it was entombed at the east end of the choir, with great honour and solemnity, many Norman nobles assisting at the obsequies. Another ti'adition alleges Harold to have escaped ; and that a decrepit anchorite, who inhabited a cell near the abbey of St John, at Chester, and was blind of a left eye, declared on his deatlv- bed, that he was the last of the Saxon kings. This tale, though ro- mantic, may have some probability ; but it matters little as to the place or circumstances of Harold's inhumation, — the spot where his standard had been cut down, was the grave of the pride and glory of England. The victory of Hastings was truly splendid ; but had the king not fallen, it would not have been sufficient to gain the crown of England. It was this disaster that gave William the sceptre. There was no heir to whom the throne could descend ; there was no chief t>f * Guil. Picl. io& I'kriodJ HAROLD II. 117 enterprise disposed to seize the dignity, or appeal to the country for its support. The Norman, therefore, found a vacant empire, and a nation without a leader. On the evening- of the aet'.on he ordered a space to be cleared near the lioly standard, and his pavilion to be pitched among the corpses Avliich were heaped around, fie there supped Avith Ihs barons, and they f(;asted among the dead. But when he surveyed the fearful slaughter, a natural feeling of pity, perha])s allied to repent- ance, arose in his stern mind ; and the abbey of Battle, in which ])rayer was to be offered up perpetually tor the repose of tlu' souls of all who had fallen in the conflict, was at once the monument of his triumj)Ii and the evidence of his piety. The abbey was most richly endowed, possessing all the land for a league round. The abbot was exempted from the authority of the metropolitan of Canterbury ; the high altar was erected on the spot where Harold's standard had waved ; and the roll; deposited in the archives of the monastery, recorded the names of those who had fought with the Conqueror. But all this pomp and so- lemnity has passed away like a dream. The ' perpetual prayer ' has ceased for ever ; the roll of victorious nobility is rent ; the shields of the Norman lineages are trodden in the dust ; the abbey is levelled with the ground ; a dank and reedy pool fills the spot where the foun- dations of the choir have been uncovered, to gratify the gaze of the idle visitor, or the prying curiosity of the antiquary II. ECCLESIASTICAL SERIES. INTRODUCTION. Druidism — Introduction of Christianity into Britain —Lucius — St Alban — Pelagiiis — Augustint3 — St Keby — Sigebert — Aidan — Disputes regarding tlie observance o< Easter — Theodore — Biscop — Brithwald — Tatwia — Cutltbert. The system of druidism prevailed universally in Britain when Caesar first planted the Roman eagle on our shores. Its doctrines are said to have been very mysterious and sublime, requiring a noviciateship of twenty years to quality for the priesthood ; but as it wiis forbidden to reduce them to writing, many of the tenets of druidism perished with the last of the druids, and no distinct account can now be given of this remarkable form of polytheism. It existed, however, in Britain for a considerable time after it had disappeared in Gaul and Germany; and was revived in a modified form, first by the Saxons, and afterwards by the Danes. Hence we find Canute, so late as the 11th century, for- bidding his subjects " to worship tlie gods of the Gentiles, that is to say, the sun, moon, fires, rivers, fountains, hills, trees, or woods of any kind." The religion of the Anglo-Saxons, Mr Falgrave considers to have been " a compound of the worship of the celestial bodies — or Sabaaism, as it is termed — and of hero worship." But tliey seem, on their arrival in Britain, to have easily adapted their r<;ligious ritual to ikf. ministrations of a druidical hierarchy. 118 ECCLESIASTICAL SERIES. [Eirsi The introduction of Christianity into this country has been made the subject of many ingenious and interesting speculations. Wlien, or by whom, however, tlie inestimable blessing of evangelical truth was first communicated to the inhabitants of Britain, are questions which admit of no positive answer.' Curiosity is not unworthily exercised on such a theme ; but in the absence of plain and credible authorities it may be doubted whether it be not wiser to repress than excite it, and better to guide it to a more promising point of sight than to give it hopes of seeing through an almost, if not quite, impenetrable darkness. The wide ditfusion of Christianity among the Romans before the end of the first century, and the intercourse which they held with this island, renders it highly jirobal^le that the Gospel was preached here at that early period. Every Christian was then a missionary, if providence carried him to a foreign country ; and there is the strongest reason to believe, that long before the heads of the church conceived the idea of sending its messengers to Britain, private individuals, animated with a ready zeal, and directed by the rules of their faith, had already dis- seminated the seeds of truth both among their countrymen established here, and the natives. General tradition appears to point out King Lucius, a British prince, as one of the first persons, who, possessing power and rank, undertook to establish Christianit}^ in tlie island as the national religion. Great doubts, however, exist as to the period when this excellent man flourished. The earliest date assigned for his conversion is the year 99, and the latest 190. In the annals of Burton it is stated to have taken place in 137 : Bede fixes it in 167 ; Matthew Paris in 185 ; and John Harding in 190. But whenever it occurred, it is manifest that much had been already done in instructing the people. Lucius is himself said to have been converted by some of the persons who had taken upon themselves the dutj' of teachers, and to have applied soon after to the bishop of Rome for help in the establishment of the new religion. There can be little doubt therefore but that England had early shown a readiness to receive instructors in the faith, and that the ])rogress which the new religion made among them was similar to what it had been in other covintries : Gildas, in describing the state of Christianity here at this period, says, that "although its doctrines were received in but a cautious maimer (tepide suscepta sunt) by the generality of the natives, with some they were entirely embraced, and with others ' Baroiiius does not liositate lo represent the apostle Peter himself as the prolo- eviingelist of Britam; but his onlv authorit)' for sucli a statement is that of Siiiieun Metaphrastes, an ecclesiastiral bio£;rapher of the lOtli ceiiturj-. Archbisliop Usher has quoted several old writers in support of ti\e opinion that the apostle James carried the Gospel into Britain. But, if the very slender evidence wliich we possess on tiiis subject is to be relied on at all, it woidd afford the best presumption in favour of St Paul, who is represented by Clemens Romanus as having preaciied the Gospel to 'the utmost bounds of the west,' and whom Tlieodoret, a prelate of the Gth century, indicates to have been the first instructor of the Britons in the religion of Christ. The question whether Paul did or did not visit Biiiain has been discussed with great keenness as well aa ability, by Dr Burgess in his 'Origin and Independence oi the British Churcii,' and Dr Hales in his ' Essay on the Origin and Purity of the Primitive Church of the British Isles:' the former taking the aflirn^.ative, the latter the negative side of the question. We pass over in silence the tradition that Joseph of Arimathea visited Britain dbout the year 63, and erected a Christian church on the spot afterwards occupie.l by tht iilibey of Glastonbury. It is evidently a mere monkish tradition, and rests on Lh» single authority of William of MiJmesbtiry. Peiuou.] introduction. H^' partially, to tlu' breaking out of the Dioclitiaii porsfcution."'^ Two o! tlu! fatluTs, TiM-tullian aiMJ Ori^cii, arc also (juoted to show the extent to which the Gospel had been cnibraecil in this age. The fornu;r says that there were places in Britain which were inaccessible to th(! RoniarH not yet subdued to Christ ; and the latter, that the power of God our Saviour was with them. Th(! remote situation of this country . 27 Perioo.] introduction. 123 luiihorhind, contrary to Pope Orcs^ory's ro<,fulatioii, w!io had ordered tl.c principal see for the iiorf.hcni j)arts of Britain to be; at York. On his (U>ath, in 652, Finan, another monk of lona, succeeded to the go- v(!rinnent of the Northumbrian cliurcli. Bede, while he pronounces the zeal of both these Scottish pr(!lates to have been ' witliout know- ledge,' because tiiey adhered to the oriental mode of keei)ini^ Easter confesses tliat the veneration with which tlieir conduct had inspired all classes, protected theuj from all annoyance on this account. But ;is soon as Colman, another Scots monk, had succeeded Finan in the see of Lindisfarn, the dispute on this important point was renewed vith more warmtli than ever ; and Oswy was finally prevailed upon to con- voke a council in the nunnery of Hilda at Whitby, in order to put forth a solemn decision which mii^dit set the question at rest for ever. At this conference, Colman, and Ceadda, bishop of the East Saxons with Oswy himself, appeared on behalf of the Scottish party ; the Ro- manists were headed by Agilbert, bishop of Paris, James, the deacon, a disciple of Paulinas, Agathon and Wilfrid, two priests of the Ro- man church, and Entieda, Oswy's queen. Colman opened the debate, and defended his case by pleading the practice of his predecessors, and the example of the beloved apostle. Agilbert was appointed to reply, but excused himself on account of his insufficient acquaintance with the English language ; whereupon Wilfrid assumed the office of re- spondent, and answered Colman with great v\irmth. He explained the manner of fixing Easter adopted by his church, and affirmed that it was supported by the practice of all other Christian churches in the world, those only of the Scots, Picts, and Britons excepted. Colman argued tiiat if Wilfrid and his brethren were correct in this, then was the ajiostle John chargeable with error. Wilfrid met this argument by saying that John was obliged to conform somewhat to the rites of Ju- daism for fear of giving offence to the Asiatic Jews. He asserted that the church of Rome exactly followed the practice of St Peter and St [*aul in this matter. He then triumpliantly demanded of Colman whe- ther he would pretend to compare his own St Columba with Peter, the prince of the apostles. We are not informed what answer Colman made to this last speech ; but the result of the conference was, that Oswy gave his voice in favour of Wilfrid, and his decision confirmed the vote of the assembly. The same synod took up the controversy about the ecclesiastical tonsure. The Romanists maintained that the head ought to be shaved round the place where our Saviour wore tlu crown of thorns ; but the Scottish priests shaved the fore-part of the head from ear to ear. Bede docs not inform us how this point was decided ; but the probability is that it too was gained by the Roman- ists. On this decision, Colman and his adherents retired into Scot- land, and Scotsmen were henceforth carefully excluded from the gov- ernment of the Northumbrian church. About this period, the kings of Kent and Northumberland held a conference respecting the state of the church, and conceiving it neces- sary to obtain the pojjc's sanction to the election of a new bishop, the prelate whom they had nominated was sent to Rome for the purpose of receiving his consecration at the hands of the supreme pontitf. But he died before the ceremony took place, and the pope immediately proceeded to search for some person capable of filling the vacant offi-e 124 ECCLESIASTICAL SERIES. [First with dignity. The power which he thus assumed to himself appeal's 10 huAB been willingly ceded to him by the English princes, and in this instance it was exercised in a manner highly beneficial to the na- tion. His choice first fell on the abbot of a monastery near Naples, a native of Africa, and a man of great learning as well as piety. But his offer was rejected, and the devout Adrian contented himself with recommending first one, and then another of his friends, to the pon- tiff's notice. Theodorus, a native of Tarsus in Cilicia, was at lengtli appointed to the arduous station. He was at this time sixty-six years of age, — was distinguished for his acquirements in general as well as isacred literature, — for his skill in both the Greek and Latin language, — and for the excellency of his manners and character. Notwithstand- ing, however, of his fitness for the station, the pope insisted on Adrian's accompanying him to England, that he might aid him with his counsel and co-operation. The good abbot assented to this arrangement, and soon after their arrival at Canterbury, Tlieodore appointed him to the monastery of Saint Peter, in which situation he was enabled to enjoy his former course of life, while his presence was of the most important service to the archbishop.^ Bede describes in glowing terms the success whicfi attended the la- bours of these two distinguished men, and remarks, that the Saxons had never witnessed such a happy time as the period of Theodore's prelacy, from their first arrival in England. There is great reason to believe that this was not an incorrect statement. Both the arch- bishop and the abbot were admirably calculated for the station they occupied. Instead of being mere monks, and possessing only the learning of monks, they were reputed for their experience in secular affairs, and their power of imparting information on everj^ branch of •science. The school, consequently, which they opened was crowded with auditors. Poetry, astronomy, and arithmetic, were comprehended within the circle of their instructions. The classics both of Greece and Rome began to be read under their auspices ; and the practice of com- position in the ancient languages was so closely pursued, that the historian states there were many of their pupils who could write as well in Latin and Greek as in their own tongue. But while thus at- tending with the care of an enlightened scholar to the diffusion of knowledge among the younger members of his flock, Theodore was not unmindful of the charge which pertained to him in respect to the disci- pline of the church. Soon after his arrival in England, he made a tour through the country, ordaining bisohps in several new districts, ind instituting such rites as he thought most essential to the wants of the people. Success attended him in his labours. The disputes re- specting the time of keeping the festival of Easter had separated one part of the people from another, to the great hindrance of Christian brotherhood ; but, Theodore, by his zeal and ability, removed many of the evils which had so nearly ruined the cause of Christianity ; and he was the first of the English bishops to whom the whole body of the clergy yielded the right of primacy. In ecclesiastical history, Theodore stands forth conspicuously as the first among the Latins who composed a penitential. This work of his consisted of canons digestea frfl m the • Hede. Eccles. Hist. iv. c. 2. Period.] INTRODUCTION. 123 acts of the principal councils, and soon became the rule of penitential discipline in all the wt^storn provinces."* From the directions which it contains, we are enabled to form sonu; idea of the trammels under which the most eminent and accomplished men of this period pursued their pious endeavours to enlighten their fellow-creatures. Masses for the dead, — rites which nmst ever burthen instead of instruct, — and tlie most minute attention to circumstances in themselves indiffc^rent, — all appear from this rule of penitence to have been regarded even by the ei-udite, as among the first essentials of Christian duty. Theodore, by the strictness of his discipline, produced, there can be little doubt, many ap])earances of imi)rovement where no real progress was made ; this is strongly evidenced by the retrograde movement which seemed, according to the testimony of Bede, to have taken place almost immediately after his decease. But he was an extraordinary man, and the taste for study which he introduced, the example he set of importing copies of the most valuable of the classics, and of the Greek and Latin fathers, together witli his conscientious attention to many public affairs that bore on the interests of religion, mainly con- tributed to produce that bright era of Saxon literature and refinement, adorned with the names of Aldhelm, Ceolfrkl, Alcuine, and Bede. Theodore, however, it is to be observed, was not left unaided in his labours by the Saxons of his time. Benedict Biscop was in every way worthy of being the coadjutor of such a man. His taste led him to the encouragement of a species of luxury which, at the time when he lived, afforded an assistance to the yet infant arts, without which they would have long remained in obscurity. The library which he collect- ed was regai'ded as of inestimable value in the subsequent age," and through his instrumentality, Weremouth abbey, of which he was the superior, remained till a late date one of the noblest depositories of learning in the country. The primacy of Brithwald, the successor of Theodore, extended over the long period of forty years. He was the first archbishop of Canterbury of Saxon birth. His successor Tatwin was contemporary with Egbert, bishop of York, who, having received the pall from Rome., exercised metropolitan power over all the Anglo-Saxon bishops to the north of the Humber ; and further distinguished himself by founding a library at York. In the earlier periods of Anglo-Saxon history, the dioceses were of the same extent as the respective kingdoms of tiie heptarchy. About the time of Egbert's promotion to the see of York, the number of English prelates was sixteen, whose sees were as follow : Canterbury and Rochester, in the kingdom of Kent ; London, in that of the East-Saxons; Hereford, Leicester, Worcester, Lichfield, and Sydnacester, or Lindsey, in Mercia; Dunwick and Elmham, in East- Anglia ; Winchester and Sherborn, in the West-Saxon kingdom ; and Vork, Lindisfarne, and Hexham, in that of Northumberland ; besitles Whitherne in Galloway, then subject to the Northumbrian monarch.'- Tatwin was succeeded in the see of Canterbuiy by Norlhelm, at whose death, Cuthbert, bishop of Hereford, was invested Avith the metropolitan dignity, in 74 L Under the last-mentioned priniate, a great national synod was held at Cloveshoo — supposed to be the presen* . '° Dupin. vol. vl. p. 45. " Wartoii's Diss, on Introdiic. of Learning into England. '" Bede, V. 12G ECCLESIASTICAL SERIES. [Eirst Abiiiglon in Berkshire — at which all the bishops and clergy to the south of the Humber attended. This council drew up a body of^twenty- eight canons for the future regulation of the church, most of them I'e- lating to ecclesiastical discipline, the government of monasteries, the duties of the several orders of clergy, the public service of the church, and the observance of the sabbath and holidays.'^ The lOth oftiiese canons directs that the priests be thorougidy acquainted with tlie doctrines of Christianity, and that they shall teach the people the Apostles' creed, and the Loi-d's prayer, in English. The 26th warns Christians against vainly imagining that by alms-deeds they may atone for their sins, or dispense with the discipline of the church. The I27tli is curious, and sufficiently illustrates the tendency of the age. It was n special enactment suggested by the case of a rich layman who, having been excommunicated for gross offences, petitioned to be re-admitted to church privileges on the ground of his having procured several persons to fast in his stead, and thus perform penance in his name, equivalent to a fast of three hundred years by one individual. The canon pro- nounced this notable device a piece of intolerable presumption, and denied the prayer of the petitioner. The history of the ecclesiastics of this period forms the most striking portion of the national annals ; their influence was every wiiere felt and obeyed. The people and the prince acknowledged their worth with like reverence. They were the arbiters of taste, as well as the sole stewards of knowledge, and society at large was not less under their guidance than the church. We are now somewhat prepared to introduce our series of ecclesiasti- cal sketches, which, as well for the sake of continuity of narrative, as on account of the interesting nature of our materials, we shall commence with the life of BORN CIRC. A. D. 639. DIED A. D. 709. Aldhelm may be regarded as one of the fathers of English litera- ture ; and it is with the view of introducing a few brief notices of the state of learning in England during his time, rather than of amplifying any portion of the above rapid sketch of ecclesiastical history, that we devote a distinct memoir to the life of this Saxon prelate. According to some historians, Aldhelm was the son of Kenrid, bro- ther of Ina, king of the West Saxons ; but Malmesbury doubts this, alleging that Ina had no other brother than Inigald, and that if he was indeed the uncle of Aldhelm, then lie must have had a nephew nearly seventy years old, when he himself was yet in the flower of youth.' He was born at Caer-Bladon in Wiltshire, and educated partly abroad, and partly in ' the renowned schoole' of Adrian at Canterbuiy. To Maidulphus an Irish Scot, he is also said to have been considerably in- debted for that learning which afterwards gained for him so high a re- putation. On the death of Hedda, bishop of the West Saxons, the king- '" Spelm. Coiir. I. 21.2. ' ApuH. Whart. Angl. Sac. vol. II. p. 2. I'EKH.i..] ALDIIELM. 127 doin of W( ssex was divided into two dioceses, Winchester and Sher- borne, and King Ina j)roniote(l Aldhelni to the latter, comprehending Dorsetsiiire, Wiltshire, Dcvonsiiire, and Cornwall. He received con- secration at Rome from the hands of Pope; Sergius I. whose inconti- neney lie had the boldness to reprove to his face.'^ Altlhelin of course took his part in the great controversy which then divided the English church respecting the celebration of Easter. At the request of a diocesan synod, he wrote a book upon this edifying point, which Bede assures us opened the eyes of a great many Britons to their ' inveterate error' in not contbrming to the Catholic usage. It was published by Sonius in 157G. He likewise wrote a book, partly in prose, and partly in hexameter verse, in praise of virginity, which is inserted amongst Bcde's Opuscula. Of his other literary pertbrmances, tlie subjects of a few may be here mentioned as a kind of index to the learning of the times. In the ' Bibliotlieca Patrum' of Canisius, there IS a Latin treatise of Aldhelm's on the eight principal virtues, and the fight of the eight principal vices. Malraesbury mentions a treatise of Aldhelm's on the dignity of the number seven, another in praise of the monastic life, and several rhetorical works. Bale informs us that he wrote a number of homilies, epistles, and sonnets, in the Saxon tongue; and in a letter written to Hedda by Aldhelni himself, we tind him speaking in very extravagant terms of the excellence and dignity of arithmetical science.'* In " compounding, pronouncing, and singing verses and songs in his mother-tongue," lie is said to have been " admi- rably excellent." " And in king Elfred's (Alfred) time" — says Father Porter, whose quaint language graces such a subject as tiiis — " manie of Saint Aldelme's ditties were yet sung in England. One thing re- lated of this purpose by king Elfred" — continues this zealous Benedic- tine father — " is most worthie of memorie. The people of those times being yet but rude rustiks, and verie negligent in the diuine seruice, seemed to come to church but for fashion sake (as manie now adaies doe) where they made noe long stay, but as soone as the misterie of masse was done, they flocked homewards without anie more adoe. Our prudent Aldelnie perceauing this small deuotion in the people, placed himself on a bridge ouer which they were to passe from church to their villages, where when the hastie multitude of people came (whose minds were alreadie in their beef-pott at home) he began to putt forth his voj^ce with all the musicall art he could, and charmed their ears with his songs. For which, when he grew to be gratefnll and plausible to that rude poeple, and perceaued that his songs flowed into their eares and minds to the greate pleasure and contentment of both, he beganne i)y little and little to mingle his ditties with more serious and holy matters taken out of the holy scripture, and by that meanes brought them in time to a feeling of devotion and to spend the sundaies and holy dales with farre greater profitt to their owne soules."'' To excel in singing, and in playing upon the harp, are often-mentioned as accomplishments of tlie ancient Saxon ecclesiastics; and in an ancient chronicle, found l)y Leland at Barnewell, Aldhelm is described as having been ' citha- ' This is stated on the authoiity iif Godwin. De Ptfesul. Angl. Brii. — Bale give story a different tin n altogether, and reproaches (he British prelate 'n neglect of du ' Henry's Britain, vol. 11. p. 320. gives the ty. Lives of the Saiiicts, p. i,S9 128 ECCLESIASTICAL SERIES. [Fikst rtedus optimus, cantor peritissimus,' — an excellent harper and most skilful singer.'^ Our bishop, in one of his treatises on prosody, claims for himself the honour of having been the first to introduce the cultivation of the Latin muse into England. " These things," says he, " have I written con- cerning the kinds and measures of verse. Whether ray great labour shall be found useful or not, I cannot tell; but I am conscious that I have the right to boast as Virgil did: Primus ego in patriam mecum, modo vita supers! t, Aonio reciiens deducam vertice Musein. " I first, returning to my native plains, Will bring the Aojiiaii choir, if life remains." The praise here arrogated for himself by the good bishop has been de- nied to him by Mr Warton, who, in his ' History of Poetry' informs us, on the authority of Consingius, that the first of the Saxons who at- tempted to write Latin verse was the author of a life of Charlemagne. But that excellent investigator of our literary antiquities appears to have forgotten that Aldhelm died above thirty years before Charlemagne was born. There can be no doubt that Aldhelm's acquirements in classical literature rendered him the wonder of his age. A cotempo- raiy of his OAvn, who lived in a distant province of a Prankish territory, in an epistle to Aldhelm, declares that the fame of his skill in the Latin language had even reached his remote quarter; and Artville, a Scottish prince, is said to have submitted his works to Aldhelm's perusal, accom- panied with the request that he would give them a last polisli, and rub the Scottish rust off them.^ Malmesbury thus criticises the style of this early scholar. " He is very simple in his style, and never intro- duces foreign words when they can be avoided. He is always eloquent; and in his more vivid passages highly rhetorical. When you read him attentively you might suppose him to be a Grecian for his acuteness, a Roman for his elegance, and an Englishman for his pomp of language." There seems to be a little contradiction in the eulogy of the critic ; but it must be allowed that Aldiielm's writings are nowise deficient in the great characteristic of all the ecclesiastical writings of the middle ages, rhetorical ornament. His work ' De laudibus virginitatis ' is i)ronounced by Tanner to be " one tissue of extravagant metaphor, — of inflated, exaggerated, and unprofitable declammation.'"' Aldhelm died in 709, at Doulting in Somersetshire, whence his body was convej'ed to the abbey of Malmesbury, where many miracles were believed to be wrought at his shrine. Malmesbury mentions his hav- mg purchased from some French merchant at Dover a copy of the Bible which he himself had often seen; and Bede speaks of Furtherc, who succeeded Aldhelm in the bishopric of Sherborne, as being well- versed in the holy scriptures. ' Collect, II. 322. " Lelaiid Apud Tanner, p. 25. ' Hist, of Engl. vol. I. p mi Period."! VENERABLE BEDE. 129 HORN A. D. G72 — mil) a. u. 735. The life, of Bode is more closely connected with the literary thai; witii tiie eeelesiii-stieal history of his country ; but, for reasons already stated, we do not hesitate to assign him a place in clironological ordei in our ecclesiastical series. lie was born in the year G72 or 673, in the neighbourhood of Wearmouth, on the estates afterwards belonging to the famous abbeys of St Peter and St Paul, in the bishopric of Dur- ham. This fact we learn from the Saxon paraphrase of his Ecclesiasti- cal History ; and it completely refutes the assertions of Hector Boeee and others, who would make him a native of Italy, or some other part of Euiope, though it is an ascertained truth that he never travelled out of England, and scarcely beyond the bounds of his native place. At the age of seven he was brought to the monastery of St Peter, and committed to the care of Abbot Benedict, under whom and his suc« cessor Ceolfrid, he was most carefully educated for twelve years ; and this service he amply repaid by writing the lives of both, which have been preserved to modern times. St Paul's, where he also resided, was situated at a place called lanow, near the fiver Tyne, about four miles from Newcastle ; and when this abbey, as well as that of St Peter, were ruined by the Danes, and became cells to Durham, inhiibited by only two or three black monks, they still carefully preserved the cell in which Bede dwelt, and were wont to show strangers his oratory, and a little altar which appeared to have been once covered by a kind of ser- pentine or green marble. At the age of nineteen he was ordained deacon ; and from that time he taught and studied with incredible dili- gence, dividing his whole time between books and devotion, admired of all who knew him, and considered by the monks as their pattern.' The praises of his contemporaries nothing abated his application, or his modesty, which was no less conspicuous than his learning. In his thirtieth year he was ordained priest, at the express com- mand of his abbot Ceolfrid, by John of Beverly, then bishop of Hexham, a person of exemplary piety, and of eminent repute as a scholar. He had been formerly preceptor to Bede, and always main- tained a great affection for his pupil, keeping up a very close corres- pondence with him. This mutual esteem continued after John be- came bishop of York, and it was probably from him that Bede took his opinions in reference to the strict discipline, subordination, and fervent zeal of the monastic state. In these points he closely and constantly adhered to the instructions of his master ; and Alcuin, who was his contemporary, m a letter to the monks of Wearmouth and larrow, con- gratulates them on the studious, devout, and submissive life adopted by Bede, as a model for the rest of the order. So attached was he to the rules of his house in point of humility and obedience, that he never desired to change his condition, or even affected the honours to which he might have attained ; and, in regard to his superiors, he uniformly submitted to their commands, and did what they esteemed fittest for the service of the conmiunity to which he belonged. ' Bale (to Script. Brit. p. 94 — Alcuin npiid I.cl.iiicl. I K 130 ECCLESIASTICAL SEEIES. [First His extensive and various erudition, and his extraordinary abilities, soon rendered him so remarkable, that his fame passed the limits of this island, and became generally known throughout the continent, and more particularly at Rome, from whence Pope Sergius I. wrote, in very pressing terms, to his abbot Ceolfrid, that Bede might be sent to Rome, where he wished to consult him upon many important subjects. This fact is the highest eulogium that could be paid to the talents and genius of this celebrated monk. It is mentioned by William of Malmes- bury, a careful and judicious author, Avho gives us also a part of the pope's letter to the abbot, promising Bede a safe return ; and stating as his reason for sending for him, that he wanted his advice in affairs relating to the government of the universal church.^ Notwithstanding this honourable invitation, it is certain that Bede never undertook the journey in question, though in those days it was far from being un- common. The cause of his refusal is not well-ascertained. Perhaps the design was laid aside by the death of the pope, which happened in Sep- tember, 701. Perhaps his modesty and love of retirement, his assiduous application to his studies, and his warm attachment to his country, were the chief motives that induced him to decline ; and the great use his la- bours were of to his brethren, and to all the clergy in the Northumbrian kingdom, could not fail to procure him interest sufficient to excuse him to his holiness. At all events, the venerable historian pursued his literary labours without interruption either in his own monastery, or at Cam- bridge, as some authors report. His residence at the latter place is one of those obscure points not established by direct evidence. Fuller and Bale speak in the affirmative, and Dr Allcock, bishop of Ely, di- rected the prayers of the church for the soul of Bede, as having been of that university ; and it is farther certain that there was formerly a small low house near St John's college there, that went by the name ol Bede's lodgings. These and others are merely presumptive arguments ; and they are treated with verj' great contempt by those who advocate the antiquity of Oxford, though the proofs which they adduce to the contrary are equally trivial.^ There is no conclusive evidence eithei way ; and perhaps the first step in deciding the controversy would be to ascertain whether the university of Cambridge existed at the time. By remaining thus in his native country, and prosecuting the toils of a monastic life, Bede gained time to make himself master of almost every branch of literature that the circumstances of his age would permit; and this he did, not with any view to fame or preferment, but merely foi the sake of becoming useful to society, and advancing the progress of religion. It was from these generous and patriotic motives that he un- dertook to compile his ' Ecclesiastical History,' in making collections for which, he spent several years. It was on the same principle that, we find, this national work — so highly commended in succeeding times, and even in the present day, in which there is so great a diffi^rence of man- ners and customs — to be of great use and authority, and that, too, in the estimation of those who justly condemn the superstitious legends that are inserted in it. It appeared when the author was in his fifty- ninth year ; and we know that soon after he began to fall into that de- clining state of health, from which he never recovered, and to which men of sedentary lives often fall martyrs. ' Lib. i cap. 3. » Bing liriL ii. 117. Period.] VENERABLE BEDE. 131 Williiun of M.'ilmesbury has prcsLTvud a very niimito account of Ills sickness ami tin; inaiiiu.'r of his death ; and this, it plainly a])i)('ars ho took from a treatise that was written expressly upon that subject by Cuthbert, one of Bede's disciples, who attend<'d iuni to the last. I'Voni this we learn that towards the iinal statue of this malady \w was af- riieted with an astlnua, which he .suppoited with great firmness of mind, though in much weakness and pain, for six weeks together. In all this time he did not the least abate of his usual employments in the moniistery : but contiiuied to pray, to instruct the young monks, and to prosecute his literary works, that, if possible, he might finish them before he died. In all the nights of his illness, in which, from the na- ture of his disease, he could get but little sleep, he sung hymns and praises to God ; and, though he expressed the utmost confidence in his mercy, and was able, on a review of his own conduct, to declare seri- ously, " that he had so lived as not to be ashamed to die," yet he did not deny his apprehensions of death, and that mysterious dread so na- tural to man on the approach of his dissolution. Two works in parti- cular occupied his time and attention, — one a translation of the gospel of St John into the Saxon language, for the benefit of the church, — the second was some passages which he was extracting from the works of St Isidore. The day before he expired he grew much worse, and his feet began to swell ; yet he spent the night as usual, and continued dic- tating to the person who wrote for him, who, on observing his weak- ness, said to him, " There remains now only one chapter, but it seems very irksome for you to speak ;" to which he replied, " It is easy ; ta.\e another pen, and write as quickly as you can." After dividing among his brethren, in the morning, some incense and other things of little value which were in his chest, he resumed his labours. " There is now," said Wilberch, his amanuensis, " but one sentence ;" and in a few minutes the young man observed, " It is now done." " Well, thou hast said the truth ; it is now done 1 Take my head bet\\een your hands and lift me, that I may sit over against the place where 1 was wont to pray ; and where, again sitting, I may yet invoke my Father." Being seated according to his desire, on the floor of his cell, he im- mediately breathed his last, pronouncing the usual doxology of the church. The monk who wrote this account, says positively, that his death happened on Thursday, May the 26th, being the feast of Christ's ascension, which would fix it to the year 735.* The best writers adopt this chronology, but there are different opinions about the time of this event, which has given rise to fierce controversies, authors differing in their reckoning no less than thirty-seven years, that is, from 729 to 766 ; the first being evidently wrong, as his history, which was not then finished, clearly shows ; and the last is very improbable, as it makes him live to the unusual age of one hundred and five.* Such dis- crepancies are not surprising considering the remoteness of the subject ; but the point is well enough established to supersede the necessity of farther dispute. The body was interred in the church of his own mo- nastery at larrow ; and the aisle where he was buried was much re- verenced on that account, numbers of people resorting thither to pray, more especially on the anniversary of his death. But in process of ' Siiiii uii Oiuu'lin. Lib. iii. cap. 7. — Malm. Lib. i. cap. 3. * B't't;- ^^'i'- "• l'^''- 132 ECCLESIASTICAL SERIES. [Fii:st time it was removed to Durham, and placed in the same cotfin with that of St Cuthbert, and is celebrated by ancient poets and historians as among the relics preserved in that cathedral In that legendary age it has justly been observed, to the credit of Bede, that the monks never forged any miracles of his, or pretended that he wrought any in his lifetime ; but to give some colour for removing his bones to Durham, they pretended that one Gamelus, a very prudent and pious monk, wa^ admonished by St Cuthbert in a dream, to travel through Northumber- land and collect the relics of holy men, in order that they might be the better protected from sacrilegious hands, and employed in stiri'ing up the piety of the faithful in the diocese of Durham, — an ingenious device of the monks, who, in this way, succeeded in augmenting the reputa- tion and the reverence of their church beyond that of any other in the north of England. Abundance of epitaphs were written upon him ; but none that were at all equal to his merits, or capable of doing justice to his memory Poetry must have been in a miserably low condition at the time when this great historian flourished, as may be seen in the collections formed by the learned and laborious Leland. We find one in Malmesbury, which he censures as quite unworthy to be placed on the tomb of so excellent a man. The Latin is at least better than Dr Hakewill's translation, which will convince the reader that poetry was still in a rude state long after the age of Bede : — Presl)\ter hie Beda requiescit, carne sepultus. Dona, Christe, animam in coelis gaudere per aviim ! Uaqiie illi sophise debiiari fonte cui tain Suspiravit orans iiiteiito semper amore.* " Presbyter Bede's corse lies buried in this grave ; Grant, Christ, his soul in heaven eternal joys may have. Give him to be drunk of the well of wisdom, to Which with such joy and love he strived and breathed so."' But how poor soever these epitaphs may be as specimens of composi- tion, they serve at least to show the good intention of their authors, and in how great repute for learning and sanctity Bede has continued from his own to the present times. The advantages he had enjoyed of having able masters in his j'outh, and his own indefatigable apijlication during forty-three years, will account for his amazing progress in science, and for the vast number of treatises which he wrote. It is very certain that his great learning and unaffected piety gained him, even among his contemporaries, a very general esteem, insomuch that, if we may believe some authors, his homilies were read publicly in the churches during his lifetime, — a circumstance to which, according to Fuller, he owed the former surname by which he is so well-known ; for this being a new and singular honour, there arose some diflftculty about the title that should be given him in the preface to those lectures ; and, as it was thought too much to style him Saint while yet alive, the title of Venerable was fixed upon as more appropriate, or at least less liable to objection.^ This account, however, has been called in question, as unsupported by authority, since none of his contemporaries call him Venerable, and his epitaph, already quoted, shows that, before iiis • JA,;,i)id. Collect, vol. ii. 11. 118. ' Apology for ihe Providence of God, p 2&i. Gal>riel. Bucccllin. Men. Bentd. Peuiod.] VENEKABLE BEDE. 133 death, he had no other title than Presbyter. The monks have in- vented a fabulous explanation of the manner in which lie acquired this surname. When he was grown old and blind, they tell us, one of his young disciples carried him to a place where there lay some heaps of stones, and told him he was surround('d by a great crowd of people who waited with much silence and attention to receive his spiritual consolation. The good old man, accordingly, made a long discourse ; and, when he had concluded with prayer, the stones very punctually made tlu'ir response, — ' Amen, Venerable Bede!' Another legend, equal- ly ridiculous, informs us that a monk, who had no great facility in verse-making, had proceeded so far in an epitaph, but being in want of a word to complete the leonine or rhythm of the verse, and after tormenting his brain to no purpose, he fell fast asleep. On awakening lie discovered, to his infinite astonishment, that the blank was filled up and the line completed by some miraculous hand, as follows : — Hac jaceiit in fossa Bedo; (vtjierabilis) ossa. Here, in this narrow grave, are laid Tlie bunes of Venerable Bede. These idle fictions deserve no credit ; all we know with certainty is, that the custom of applying that epithet to our historian is very ancient ; and all writers agree that he justly merited the appellation, as well for his genuine piety as for his singular modesty. His literary labours were so well received in his own time, and for many ages after, that we find a high character bestowed on them by the most eminent authors, as well as the most competent judges. Mahnesbury, Simeon of Durham, Bale, Pits, Puller, Holinslied, Stowe, Speed, and many others, have spoken of him as an honour to the age and country in which he lived. The Germans regarded him as the most learned man in the western world; and it has been remarked by Simeon of Durham, that there is nothing more surprising, than that a man who lived in one of the most remote corners of the world, and never had an opportunity of travelling for his improvement in science or frequenting the schools of philosophy, should have distinguished himself by so uncommon an extent of erudi- tion, and the composition of so many books. His studies embraced what was then deemed a complete knowledge of rhetoric, metaphysics, natural philosophy, astronomy, arithmetic, geometry, cosmography, chronology, history, mathematics, poetry, music, philosophy, divinity, and the whole circle of the liberal arts. Bale assures us that he was so well skilled in the writings of Pagan authors, that he had scarcely an equal in that age ; and had so solid a knowledge of the mysteries and principles of the Christian faith, considering the darkness and corrup- tions of the times in which he lived, that by many persons he was esteemed superior even to Gregory the Great in a critical and accurate acquaintance with the Greek and Latin, which were then the languages of the church. From the memoirs of Bede's own life, at the end of his ecclesiastical history, it appears that he was very assiduous in acquiring a knowledge of music, and punctual in performing choral duty in the service of his monastery. It is evident from the titles of some of his treatises that he wrote both upon the theory and practice of that science; and Sir John Hawkins observes, that a few scattered hints which occur .'n tlie works of St Augustine and Bede, suggesud tho 131: ECCLESIASTICAL SERIES. [First formation of a system of metrical laws, such as might enable music not only to subsist of itself, but aid the power of melody with that force and energy which it is known to derive from the regular mixture and inter- change of long and siiort quantities. His varied attainments are attested by his numerous works, some of which were deemed, even while he was living, of so great authority, that a council held in England and approved by the Catholic church, ordered that they should be publicly read in the churches. They tended exceedingly to polish and civilize the rude manners of his country, and they served as a kind of encyclopedia for the instruction of youth, long after his decease. Bede, however, had detractors as well as admirers; and some authors both English and foreign, especially tlie French, have taken great liberties with his character, representing him as a man of superficial learning, of vast but undigested reading, of little judgment though great industry, negligent in point of style, and void of all taste for criticism. By some he is charged with being extremely credulous, and recording as truths the miracles and fabulous legends of the monks. Among this number are the famous Milton, and the historian, Dupin. But the faults of which they accuse Bede, are imperfections to which the first histories of every country must always be liable, and from which, con- sequently, there was no reason to expect that his should be exempt. The errors they condemn were those of the age rather than of the individual. However inelegant to modern taste, Bede's style will bear a comparison with that of any contemporary writer. Milton objected that our author had taken so little notice of civil affairs; this no doubt is a misfortune; but the poet of Paradise should have recollected that it was ecclesiastical history purely which Bede undertook to write. Yet Milton himself acknowledges that he is the best guide to an acquaintance with the political transactions of the times, that history and all notice of public measures were in a manner buried with him. It should besides be recollected, that in Bede's days the sacred greatly prepon- derated over the secular interests. The building of a church, the preferment of an abbot, the canonization of a martyr, the miracles of a saint, or the importation into England of the hair and nails of an apostle, were necessarily reckoned matters of far higher importance than victories or revolutions. It is amusing to see the French critics censuring Bede for credulity; they might quite as well have accused him of superstition. Wonders and visions were the staple commodity of the literature of tl:e eighth century; and perhaps better fitted than reason or argument tu impress the minds of a rude illiterate people. It is but justice, however, to our venerable historian, to add, that if he has had enemies and censurers among modern writers, there have not been wanting men of equal abilities and greater reputation who have vindicated his character and writings, and supported his right to that fame which he ha.s so long enjoyed. It may be sufficient to mention the names of Cambden, Selden, Spelman, Stillingfleet, Mabillon, Henry, Warton, &c. whose verdict will maintain the great reputation of Bede unsullied and undi- minished. His writings have gone through various editions, and been embodied in difierent collections. The first catalogue of his works we have from himself, at the end of his history, which contains all he had written before the year 731. Leland mentious some other piece of ins he had I'ERiOD.] VENERABLE BEDE. 136 met witli, as well as several that in his opinion were spurious. Bale uicutions ninety-six treatises written hy liedc, and afterwards swells them to a hundred and torty-five, exclusive of various j)ieces which he had not seen. Pits enlarges the preceding lists, and mentions the libraries where many of these tracts were to be found. The first col- lection of Bede's printed works appeared at Paris in 1544, in tiiree volumes folio; though several pieces had appeared earlier. They were fi-equently republished with a clear and distinct account of their con- tents. But the most exact and satisfactory detail of Bede's life and writings we owe to the Benedictine John Mabillon. His works embrace a vast diversity of topics, in almost every science. A few of the title? may serve as a specimen: — Of the Six Ages of the World; Of Proverbs; Of the Substance of the Elements; Of the Keeping of Easter; Of the I'bretelling Life and Death; Of Noah's Ark; Of the Languages of Nations; Lives of the Saints, Cuthbert, Felix, &c.; A Martyrology ; A Poem on the Martyriloni of Justin; Of the Situation of Jerusalem and the Holy Places ; Of the Hexameron, or Creation in Six Days; Of the Tabernacle; Of Solomon's Temple; Questions on the Pentateuch, I've, and Four Books of Kings; Commentaries on Boece upon the Trinity; Sparks, or Common Places; Memorable Passages and Col- lections; A Discourse of the Strong Woman (an allegory); Of Morals, one book; Meditations on the Passion of Christ, for the Seven Canonical Hours of the Day; The Axioms of Aristotle Explained; &c. &c. Besides these, there are an infinite number of small tracts on arithmetic, grammar, rhetoric, astronomy, chro- nology, meteors, &c.; and commentaries on almost every book in Scripture, from Genesis to the Revelations.^ The hynms of Bede were published with notes by Cassander, but many of them are of doubtful authority. His ' Acts of St Cuthbert' is a poem in heroic verse. In the list of his unpublished works, besides homilies, commentaries, and other religious tracts, we find among others, Of the Situation and Wonders of Britain ; the Lives of St Julian ; St Gregory the Great ; St Augustine, the apostle of the English, Sec: Of the Image of the World; Of the Day of Judgment. In his account of the monastery of St Paul and St Peter, where he was educated, he mentions that masons and artists for erecting these edifices were brought over from France ; and that these people not only furnished whatever was necessary for the building, but also instructed the English in the art of glass-making, which was till then unknown in this island. His letter to Egbert, bishop of York, who consulted him in all momentous attairs, and between whom there sub- sisted the strictest friendship, is very far from being the least consider- able of his works, as it shows us not only the character and temper ol the men, but gives such a picture of the then state of the church as is no where else to be met with. It is perhaps the last of his writings, and contains liis advice as to the erection of new sees, as well as in reference to the inconveniences and abuses which sprung from the prevailing humour of multiplying religious houses, which the nobles frequently appropriated to themselves, greatly to the prejudice both ol church and state. The most famous, however, of Bede's works, is his ' The curious reader will find a very carefully drawn up catalc-iue of Bod.'s wriiinns, as cniilaiued in the ('oloRne foliii e|)al see of St Rup(>rt at Sal/burg 138 ECCLESIASTICAL SERIES. [Fiiisi After the death of Charles Martel of France, he was employed to con- secrate Pepin the Short at Soissons, who acknowledged his service by appointing him bishop of Mentz, which has retained the primacy among the German churches ever since. He also founded a monastery at Fridislar, another at Hamenburg, and one at Ordofe, in all of which the monks supported themselves by their own industry. In 746, he laid the foundation of the great abbey of Fulda, which soon became the most eminent seminary of learning in Germany. He also, as pope's legate, held eight ecclesiastical councils during his primacy, besides maintaining a most extensive correspondence, particularly with his na- tive country. An intimate friendship had long subsisted between Cuthbert, bisliop of Hereford, and Boniface. On the advancement of the former to the archbishopric of Canterbury, Boniface addressed to him a long and affectionate epistle, in which, after warmly exhorting his friend to the faithful discharge of the duties of his high oftice, he points out several thiiigs in the state of the English church which ap- peared to him to demand reformation: ])articularly the gay dress and intemperate habits of the clergy, and the loose habits acquired by English nuns in the performance of pilgrimages to Rome after the fashion of the day. The suggestions contained in this letter proved the occasion of calling together the synod of Cloveshoo, whose proceedings we have noticed elsewhere.^ Boniface terminated his laborious and useful life at Dockum in West Friesland, A. D. 755, in the 75th year of his age. Assisted by Eoban, whom he had lately ordained bishop of Utrecht, he had appointed a day on which to confirm those whom he had previously baptized; but on the morning appointed for the ceremony his company was attacked and massacred to a man by a body of pagans. He met his death with calm intrepidity, forbidding his servants to offer any resistance to their assailants, and exhorting them to commit their souls in peace to their Creator. His body was interred in the abbey of Fulda, where a copy of the Gospels said to be in his own hand-writing, is still preserved. His character has been greatly aspersed by Mosheim and his commen- tators, but as warmly and more successfully defended by Milner.^ His works were collected and published by Serarius in 1605;* but the most complete collection of his letters were published at Mentz in 1789, in folio. Willibald, the nephew, and some time the fellow-labourer of Boniface, was a man of learning, and wrote the life of his uncle. BORN CIRC. A. D. 720 DIED A. D. 804. Alcuin was born in Yorkshire, or, as others say, not far from London. The masters of his education were first, the Venerable Bede, — though the pupil must then have been young and the master old, as Bede died in 735 — and afterwards Egbert, archbishop of York, who made liim keeper of the curious library which he had founded in that city.' About the year 780 he was made deacon of the church of York, and a* ' P. 126. ' Ciiurcli Hist vol. iii. p. 89. « Du Pin Eccles. Hist. Car.t. viii. ' tuisl. Alcuiiii, apiid Lectiones Aiitiii. Caiiisii torn. ii. p. ■iOP. Period.] ALCUIK 139 length ahbot of the monastery of CaiitcrTiury. lii 793 he was invitfd ovi-r to France by Cliarh'niagne to assist him in ojjposing th(3 heresy of Felix, bishop of Urgel, in Catalonia, and tiie canons of the false synod of Nice. In the controversy tliat agitated the \vest(!rn churcli towards tlie end of the eighth century, about the mystery of tiie incarnation, Felix maintained that Jesus Christ ought only to be called the adoptive son of God. This opinion he defended in his writings, and projjagated it not only in Spain, but in France and Germany. In 792 he was condemned by a council of bishops held at Ratisbon, who sent him to Fopc Adrian at Rome. The pope confirmed the judgment of the synod, and ol)liged Felix to retract ; but he again lapsed into his former error, and was again condemned by the council of Frankfort consisting of three hundred prelates. Other Spanisli bishops were tainted with the heresy, and Charlemagne joined his authority witli that of the council to compel them to renounce their opinions. In 799, he sent for Felix to Aix la Chapelle, that he might have an opportunity publicly to de- fend himself in presence of the bishops. Alcuin was appointed to re- ply to his arguments, and refuted him ; upon which he recanted and embraced the doctrine of the church, that Jesus Christ as man, ought to be called the proper and not the adoptive son of God.'^ Charlemagne had a high esteem for the learning of Alcuin, and not only honoured him with his friendship and confidence, but became his pupil, and re- ceived instructions from him in rhetoric, logic, mathematics, and di- vinity.^ He gave him the abbeys of Ferrara, St Jodocus, and St Lu- pus ; and afterwards that of St Martin at Tours, to which he retired, having obtained permission of the emperor, on account of his age and infirmities. There he spent the remainder of his life in an honourable retreat, and employed himself in educating the youth in the school which he had founded in that city. The emperor endeavoured to re- call him to court, and wrote him many urgent letters, but in vain. He died at Tours in the year 804, with the reputation of a pious and learned man ; and, according to William of Malmesbury, the best Eng- lish divine after Bc^de and Aldhelm. He was not only a distinguished scholar himself, but a great promoter of science. France, says Cave in his Literary History,* is obliged to Alcuin for all the polite learning she boasted of in that and the following ages. The universities of Paris, Tours, Fulden, Soisson, and many others, owe to him their origin and increase ; those of whom he was not the superior or founder, being at least enlightened by his instructions and example, and enriched by the royal grants which he procured for them. His services in the cause of literature have been recorded in the verses of a German poet cited by Camden : — \ " No smaller tokens of esteem from France Ak'uinus claim?, wlio duist himself advance Single against whole troops of ignorance ; 'Twas he trans.porled Britain's richest ware — Language and arts, and kindly taught them there!"' Alcuin was a very voluminous author. Most of his works are extant ; and, in 1617, an edition of them was published by Du Chesne at Paris, though a number of smaller pieces have since appeared, and nuiy • Ouiiin, Hist. Ecvles. cent. viii. • Malm. lil>. i. cap. '.i. * Sect. viii. p. 4'Xi. 140 ECCLESIASTICAL SERIES. [First be met with in Dupin's Ecclesiastical History. Hin Latinity is pure and elegant, and his erudition vast considering the period in which he lived. To the Greek and Latin he is said to have joined an acquaint- ance with the Hebrew tongue, which would seem to have formed a part of scholastic study sooner than is generally imagined. In his scientific writings he sometimes ventured to break, through the pedantic formalities of established systems. Two of his treatises he has thrown into a dialogue between himself and his illustrious pupil Charlemagne. Sir John Hawkins has remarked, that he was particularly well-versed in music, as appears by his tract on the use of the Psalms, and by his preface to Cassiodorus on the ' Seven Disciplines.'^ He also wrote an Essay on Music, which is lost. The formidable catalogue of Al- cuin's numerous works, comprehend homilies, lives of saints, com- mentaries on various parts of scripture, letters, poems, and books on the different sciences. His theological writings include a Discourse on the Words in Genesis, " Let us make man after our own image," — An Epistle on Solomon's Threescore Queens, — Questions concerning the Trinity, — Seven Books on the Incarnation against Bishop Felix, and Four Books concerning Images, — Commentaries on the Proverbs, Can- ticles, and Epistles of St Paul. The saints whose lives he has written are, St Martin of Tours, St Vedast of Arras, St Willibrord of Utrecht, and St Riguier the Priest. His poems consist of Hymns and Epigrams, — Stanzas on a Cuckoo, — and a heroic poem on the Bishops and Saints of the Church of York, containing 1700 verses ; though some are of opi- nion that this last, from its barbarous style, was not written by Alcuin, but by a Benedictine monk of the following century. The varied and prolific talents of those dark ages must not seduce us into too magni- ficent ideas of the depth or solidity oF their attainments. Their merits, as Wharton has observed, were in a great measure relative. Their circle of reading was contracted, their systems of philosophy jejune; and the lectures of the schools served rather to stop the growth of ig- norance, than to produce any positive or important improvements in knowledge. They aspired to no higher acquisitions than the prescribed curriculum or course of study ; for the art of making excursions from the narrow path of scientific instruction hito the spacious and fertile regions of liberal and original thinking was then unknown. DIED A. D. 910. As'sER, or Aysserius, was a learned monk of St David's, and a. writer of considerable celebrity, though some points in his personal history are involved in uncertainty. He was of British extraction, probably a na- tive of Pembrokeshire, and educated in the monastery of St David's, In Latin called Menevia, and hence his surname of Menevensis. His tutor or instructor is said to have been Johannes Patricius, one of the most renowned scholars of his age.' Here also he was on terms of in- timacy with the archbishop of that see, who was his reflation. Tlii.^ » Hisl. vi lAlusic, viil. i. [k 379. ' UaJe. IV.nion.J ASSER. HI lias f^iven rise to a mistake which has converted Asser into two other iiulivldiuils of the same name, — an archbisiiop of St David's, and a reader in the university of Oxford. IJale, Godwin, Cave, and Hearne, affirm that our monk, was secretary or eliancellor to this archbishop, but erroneously, as tiiere is every probal)ility that the different per- sons alluded to were one and the same." Besides, he tells us himsell that the name of his relation w;is an Archbishop Novis, though it does not appear that he was either his secretary or chancellor. Novis held that honour from 841 to 873, when he died. From St David's Asser was invited to the court of Alfred the Great, merely from the great reputation of his learning. On his journey he met with that prince at the town of Dean, in Wiltshire, who received hiu) with great civility, and even evinced for him the strongest marks of favour and affection, insomuch that he recommended him not to think of returning or residing at St David's, but rather continue with him as domestic chaplain, and assist him in his studies.^ Asser hesitated to ac- cept this flattering proposal, and seemed to prefer tlie place where he had been educated and received the order of priesthood, to the honour able promotion offered him by the king. Alfred then expressed his desire that he would at least divide his time equally between the court and the monastery, and devote six months of the year to his society. To this request Asser replied by soliciting permission to consult his bre- thren, which was readily granted; but unfortunately in his journey to St David's he fell sick at Winchester of a fever, which confined him upwards of twelve months, much to the regret and disappointment of Alfred. On his recovery he repaired to St David's, and having taken the advice ol his brethren on the king's offer, they unanimously agreed that he should accept it, only requesting that his change of residence should be quarter- ly instead of half-yearly. In this resolution private interest had some weight, for the monastery and parish of St David's had often been plundered, and their archbishops sometimes expelled by Hemeid, a petty prince of South Wales. From the favour and friendship of one of their members with Alfred, the pious monks hoped to derive great advan- tages in the repression of those violent inroads to which they were ex- posed. When Asser returned he found the king at Leoneforde, who received him with great kindness and civility. His first visit continued for eight months, during which time he read and explained to the prince whatever books were in his library. Their mutual esteem increased with their acquaintance; and on the Christmas-eve following, Asser re- ceived a gift of the monasteries of Ambrosbury in Wiltshire, and Ban- well in Somerset, with a silk pall of great value. The royal bounty was accompanied with the generous compliment that " these were but small things, and by way of earnest of better that should follow them."^ The oromise was soon fulfilled, for the bishopric of Exeter, and, not long after, that of Sherborne was bestowed on him. The latter of these pre- ferments he seems to have relinquished in 883, a circumstance which has misled Matthew of Westminster, and other writers, to place his death in that year. He was succeeded in the see of Sherborne by Sighelm, .vho was employed by Alfred to carry his alms to the Christians of St Thomas in India; but the Saxon Chronicle clearly proves that Asser • Biog. Brit. 1. im. " Ass(?r. Menev. Ed. Oxoii. 1722 p 1.7. ♦ Absir. Menev. Ed. Oxoii. 17'22. p. AO. 142 ECCLESIASTICAL SERIES. [Fihst survived his quitting that bisliopric for seven and twenty years, though he alT^'ays retained the title, — a fact which will account for the supposi- tion of his decease at the time when his successor was appointed. From this period he was a constant attendant at court, and is named by Alfred in his testament — which must have been written some time before the year 885 — as a person in whom he had particular confidence. He is also mentioned by the king in the prefatory epistle prefixed to his translation of Gregory's ' Pastoral,' addressed to Wulfig bishop of London, wherein he acknowledged the assistance he had received fi'oni him and others in that undertaking. The method used by Alfred in translating, we learn both from himself and his instructor, was to give the sense and substance of his author rather than the exact words. It seems to have been the near resemblance of their genius which gained Asser so great a share in the royal confidence, and which very probably was the occasion of his drawing up those memoirs of the life of Alfred, dedicated and presented by him to the king, and which are still extant. In this work there is a very curious and minute account of the manner in which that prince and our author spent their time together. Asser tells an anecdote, that being at the feast of St Martin, and having quot- ed accidentally in conversation a passage from some famous writer, the king was so highly pleased with it, that he wished him to note it down on the margin of a book which he usually carried in his breast. Find- ing there was no room in the book to record the favourite passage, he asked the king, whether he should not provide a few leaves in which to set down such remarkable things as occurred either in reading or con- versation. Alfred, who was indefatigable in the acquirement of know- ledge, was extremely delighted with the idea, and directed Asser to put it in immediate execution. From this hint sprung the ' Enchiridion of Golden Sayings,' for by constant additions their collection began to accu- mulate, till at length it reached the size of an ordinary psalter; and this compilation is what Asser calls the Enchiridion, and Alfred his ' Hand- Book' or ' Manual.' In all probability this learned monk continued at court during the whole reign of Alfred, and perhaps for several years after; but when or where he died has been the subject of some contro- versy. The Saxon chronicle positively fixes his death to the year 910, and to this statement it does not appear that any just objection can be made. We have already mentioned the confusion of certain authors witli regard to the personal identity of Asser. To expose their mistakes by argument or history would be a tiresome and needless labour. It is sufficient merely to observe, that Asser the monk, and Asser the bishop of Sherborne, are proved on the authority of Matthew of Westminster, and Florence of Worcester, to be the same person; and that he was afterwards archbishop of St David's, appears from the annals of tliat monastery, as well as from the list of Giraldus Cambrensis, who sets him down after Etwal the successor of Novis. The Saxon chronicles, more- over, never mention two Assers, though they speak copiously of one. On the whole, therefore, we may conclude, that our author was the indivi- dual who composed the Annals of Alfred, though the story of his teaching at Oxford is either unfounded or applied to a different per- son. And in regard to his several promotions, it would appear that from being a monk of St David's he became parish-priest, afterwards pEiiiou.] DUNSTAN. 143 abbot of Ambrcsbury and Banwell, tlion bishop of Shnrbome, which he held for a very short time; lu xt archhishop of St David's, probably' in tii(( y(ar 883; and lastly, i)rinuit(* of Wali's in i)09, tlirou/fh tlu; kind'iess of Eihvard the Elder, the son and snecessor of Alfred. There is no les.- controversy about the works of Asser than about his life and prefer- ments, for some allege tiiat he never wrote any thing exeept the annals of king Alfred; whereas Pits gives the titles of five other books, and adds that he wrote many more.'' Of these one is a Comnuintary on Boece, whieli is mentioned by Lcland. The ' Annales I5i'itannic;e' has been published by Dr Gale, though it bears internal evidence of not being llie work of Asser; his ' Golden Sentences' are a monument of his learn- ing and industry; a book of Homilies, and another of Epistles, are also ascribed to him, though the authenticity of these two volumes can only be presumptive, as no ancient author says a word about them. The statement of Bishop Godwin, that Asser was buried in the cathedral church of Sherborne,^ rests on no other foundation than his holding that see, — a mode of argument which would apply with equal truth and more force of reasoning to St David's, as the place of his sepulture. On one point there is no disagreement : — that this excellent man was one of the most pious, learned, and modest prelates of the age in which he lived. BORN A. D. 925 DIED A. D. 988. DuNSTAN, a famous saint in the Romish calendar, and archbishop of Canterbury, was born of noble parents, whose names were Heorstan and Cynethryth, near Glastonbury in Somersetshire, in the year 925. He was a character formed by nature to act a distinguished part in the drama of life, and his progress affords instances of great talents per- verted by an injudicious education and inordinate ambition. It is alleged that, in the old British church at Glastonbury, which he fre- quently visited, he had a vision of his future greatness ; and that a ve- nerable phantom pointed out the place where he was to build a superb monastery. His parents encouraged his taste for books ; and his supe- rior abilities enabled him to excel his companions, and to run with easy rapidity through the course of his studies. A fever interrupted his ad- vancement, and, in a fit of temporary frenzy, he leaped from his bed, eluded his nurse, and seizing a stick which was near him, he ran over the neighbouring plains and mountains, fancying that wild dogs were pursuing him. His wanderings led him, towards night, near the church, the roof of which was undergoing repair. Dunstan ran rudely uj) the scaffold which the workmen had erected, roamed over the tojj, and with that good luck which delirium sometimes experiences, he got unconsciously to the bottom of the church, where he fell into a pro- found sleep. He awoke in the morning with returned intellect, and was naturally surprised at his new situation. As the church-doors had not been opened, both he and the neighbours wondered how he got ' Do Uhist. An-l. Sdijit. [>. 170. ' l)c Prsnsul Angl. p. 3S5. H4 ECCLESIASTICAL SERIES. [ElESl there. His misadventure was converted by the monastic biographer of Dunstan into a notable miracle of angels descending to protect him from the devil, bursting the roof of tlie church and landing him safely on the pavement. His parents obtained for him an introduction into the ecclesiastical establishment of his native place, where he continued his application to study. There were at the time some Irish priests employed at Glastonbury in teaching the liberal sciences to the children of the nobility ; and to their instructions Dunstan attached himself, and diligently explored their books. His youth was thus devoted to the laborious cultivation of his mind ; and he seems to have attained all the knowledge to which it was possible for him to gain access. He mas- tered such of the mathematical sciences as were then taught ; he ex- celled in music ; he accomplished himself in writing, painting, and en- graving ; he acquired also the manual skill of working in gold and sil- ver, and even in copper and iron. These arts at that day had not reached any high state of perfection, but it was uncommon that a man should practise himself in them all. When his age admitted, he was, through tlie interest of his uncle, the archbishop of Canterbury, who had taken particular care of his education, recommended to the patron- age of King Athelstan, who invited him to court, and was often de- lighted and recreated by his musical talents. His surprising attain- ments were deemed supernatural, and he was accused of demoniacal arts. Such charges give evidence not only of the ignorance of the age, but of the superior genius and knowledge of the individual so accused. The charge of magic was, of all others, the most dangerous, because the most difficult to repel. Dunstan 's enemies were successful ; the king was influenced against him, and he was driven from court, — the Eden of his aspiring hopes. Not content with his disgrace, his rivals insulted as well as supplanted him ; they pursued him and threw him into a miry bog, from which he extricated himself, and took shelter in a friend's house. Checked at the outset of his career, Dunstan turned his eye from the tempestuous height of courtly jealousy and ambition, to the quietude of domestic happiness. The aspirations of his mind took anew direction, and sought gratification in legitimate wedlock ; but the rigours of monastic penance had denounced these pleasures, and Dunstan's passion was ascribed to diabolical suggestions. His rela- tives opposed this honourable attachment, they opened the batteries of their superstitious eloquence against the heinous sin of matrimony, con- juring him, as he hoped for salvation, to restrain nature and become a monk. Dunstan defended his propensities on the score both of morali- ty and public utility. His friends set before him the terrors of future damnation, urging the necessity of extinguishing the fires of unhallowed passion, and avoiding its incitements by withdrawing from the world. These importunities unhinged the mind of Dunstan ; he was terrified at the idea of eternal punishment, but was unable to tear himself from the raptures of love, and those exquisite delights which he anticipated in the connubial state. His health wius unequal to this tumult of con- tending passions ; a dangerous disease attacked him before he could decide whether to abandon his wife, or his hopes of felicity in another world, and his life was despaired of; at length he recovered, but he rose from the bed of sickness with an altered mind. In the struggle between carnal and spiritual enjoyment, superstition gained the mastery. I'liitioD.l DUNSTAN. 145 He renounced the world and all its seductions, assumed the monastic habit, and condenuied himself to celibacy. But it was less from reli- gious principle than from fear and importunity that Dunstan had thus done violence to his inclinations. His ruling passions were impetuosity ajid ambition ; and the path of life into which he was forced did not extinguish these energies ; it only gave them a new bent, by teaching him to make superstition more glaring, and austerity more morose. Having nothing left in life, the ardent recluse sought a living grave. The ordinary rigours of the cloister did not suflice to Dunstan, for the miserable man was in that state of affliction when corporeal suffer- ings relieve the agony of the mind by diverting the attention from the more intense torture of the soul. He dug with his own hands a sort of rude cave or cell by the side of the church ; his biographer Osberne, who had seen it, knew not what to call it. It was more like a tomb than a human habitation. The excavation was five feet long, and two and a half wide. It rose only four feet above the ground, but its depth was sufficient for him to stand erect, though he could never lie down. Its only wall was the door, which covered the whole, and in which was a small aperture to admit light and air. In this sepulchre he took up his abode, denying himself rest as well as needful food. He fasted to the point of starvation, constantly working at his forge when not em- ployed in prayer. The hammer was always sounding, except when si- lenced by his orisons. There is little reason to wonder at the return of Dunstan's partial insanity during his seclusion ; and an incident oc- curred which, though it added greatly to his reputation, bespoke the disease of his mind as well as the arts that gained him his popularity. While exercising at his work one night, the whole neighbourhood was alarmed by the most terrific " bowlings, which seemed to issue from his cell. In the morning all fiocked to inquire the cause. Dunstan told them that the devil had intruded his head into his window to tempt Lira while heating his metal : that he had seized the fiend by the nose with his red hot pincers, and that the noise was the roaring of the in- fernal enemj'- !"' The rude people venerated the recluse for this amaz- ing exploit. His fame spread, and votaries from far and wide were at- tracted b}' his sanctity. He soon got a more substantial benefit than empty praise. EthelHeda, a noble lady, who was spending her days in quiet widowhood, sought his acquaintance, was charmed with his conversation, and formed a religious attachment to him. She intro- duced him to the king, and at her death, which happened soon after, she lefib him the heir of all her wealth. If it be true that he distributed this inheritance, as well as his ample patrimony, among the poor, it can only be attributed to his insatiaole tliirst for popular applause. Dunstan's celebrity made him known to Edmund, the successor of Athelstan, who invited him to court. The royal offer was accepted, and he determined to use all his influence for the advancement of his order, for he liad renounced all the pleasures and ties of the world. The first step of his future aggrandisement was laid by the aequisi tion of the monastery of Glastonburjs to which he was appointed ab- bot by the king, who granted him a new charter in 944, and by his munificence enabled him to restore it to its former lustre.'^ The Bene- ' ^ii^l. S;n'ia, iDDi. ii. \>. 9~. ' Alalia, iilj. ii. c;i|i. 7. — Aiigl. Sacra, Umi. ii. p 1!K). I T 146 ECCLESIASTICAL SEEIES. fFuist dictine order was then creeping into notoriety. Dunstan introduced it into his monastery, and it became a powerful auxiliary to his ambition. The new abbot gained so rapidly on the prejudices of his age, that his youth — he could not be more than twenty — was no impediment to his success. The see of Winchester was afterwards offered him by the king, but he declined it under the pretence of unfitness, alleging that, in a vision, St Peter had jjromised to him hereafter the primacy oJ England, a dignity to which the king could not well-refuse his appro- bation, seeing it had been sanctioned by the prediction of an apostle These appeals to celestial communication greatly augmented the credit of Dunstan. He even alleged that an ethereal voice had, in thunder, announced to him the death of Edred, who had been in feeble health all his reign. He gained entirely the confidence of this monarch, who placed every office in the government completely under his 2:)ower and control. The king could not nominate the abbot as heir to the throne, but he bequeathed all his property and treasures to him.^ The monk, on his part, became a statesman and an intriguer, con- stantly exerting all the power which he derived from his rank, and all the influence resulting from his character for the main purpose of fur- thering his party views. Placed as he was, at the head of the admini- stration, consulted in all important affairs of state, and being possessed of great credit at court as well as among the populace, he was en- abled to execute his most daring schemes with success. Finding that his advancement had been owing to the opinion of his austerity, he adopted the Benedictine discipline, became its strenuous patron, and having introduced it into the convents of Glastonbury and Abingdon, lie endeavoured to render it universal in the kingdom. When Edwy succeeded to the throne, the haughty and disrespectful conduct of Dun- stan, in bursting into the queen's private chamber on the day of the coronation, soon placed him in collision with the new king.* He was accused of malversation in office, and banished the kingdom. He took refuge in the monastery of St Peter at Ghent, and a legend says that, when he was about to quit the abbey, a loud fiendish laugh of exultation resounded through the sacred building : — " Thou shalt have more sorrow at my return than thou hast joy at my departure I" ex- claimed Dunstan, addressing himself to his old enemy Satan. The civil commotions in England prepared the way for Dunstan's tri- umphant return. The popularity of tlie reformation he had introduced into the monasteries gained him many supporters ; and, on the death of Edwy, he was restored by Edgar, who patronised the Benedictine order, and exalted Dunstan to the highest honours both in church and state. He made him bishop of W^inchester, and afterwards of London ; and, on the death of Odo, he was elevated to the arch-see of Can- terbury.^ He did not blush to accept this supremacy, and, in com- pliance with a custom that all metropolitans should receive the pall from the pope, Dunstan hastened to Rome antl obtained the necessary ratification from John XJI. This ambitious and crafty monk was now not only primate, but premier of England. The arts by which he secured his power and po- pularity were numerous. He filled every vacant see with h's own par- ' Jiiell's Cluirch Hist. vol. i. \^. :i\6. ♦ V ti'\ * Aimi. 8,i(in, lum. i. p. U\7. Pkkioo. DUNSTAN. 147 tisans, while the kiiit; meekly and pliantly subinittPii. One of liis stratagems was the faeulty which lie chiimed of conversing with the spiritual world, by which means he learned many heavenly songs, and saw many extnionlinary visions. Some of these evinced a degree of impudence and impiety — for he declared that the Saviour had espouse(' his mother — that, did they not come from the pen of a contemporary, it were absolutely impossible to credit them. By his influence over the king, he contrived to expel the secular clergy from their livings, which were filled with Benedictines, a revolution which brought the English church more under the jurisdiction of the Roman pontiff than it had ever been ; and the effect of which continued to be felt till the refor- mation.^ These violent changes were not relished by the generality of the nation ; but, by the favour of the king, Dunstan contrived to main- tain his ascendancy. During the minority of Edward, he ruled with uncontrolled sway both in church and state. But the minds of the nobility were alienated ; the pretended visions of Dunstan had lost their effect, and he was compelled to the humiliation of meeting his adversaries in the synods held for the purpose of deciding the moment ous questions by which the church and the country we.e agitated. Irri- tated at the failure of his alleged revelations, this overbearing prelate had recourse to an artifice of the most atrocious nature, — no less than a ileliberate attempt to destroy his opponents. A council was summoned at Calne in Wiltshire, and the best part of the nobility of England were assembled in an upper chamber. When several speakers had addressed the meeting, Dunstan rose and made a short reply, in which he avoid- ed entering into any argument, declaring that he desired nothing but to end his days in peace, and to commit the cause of the church to the decision of Christ. He had scarcely uttered these words when the floor, with its beams and planks, suddenly gave way, and precipitated the whole company among the ruins below. Many of the nobles were killed on the spot, and others grievously wounded and bruised. It was observed in this general wreck, that the chair of Dunstan was un- moved, and part of the floor where his friends sat remained firm, a cir- cumstance which proves the whole to have been the result of fraudulent design and not of accident.^ On the accession ofEthelred, his power and credit declined. He threatened his enemies with the divine ven- geance ; but the contempt in which his menaces were held are said to have mortified him to such a degree that he retired to his arch- bishopric, where he died of grief and vexation on the 19th of May, 988. A volume of his works was published at Douay in 1626. His ambition has given him a place in ecclesiastical history, and he must indeed have been a man of very extraordinary talents. Dr Burney in his history notices his skill in music. That accomplishment con- stituted his chief delight ; he touched the harp with great skill ; and if, as we are told in the legends, the strain burst forth from its chords when struck by no visible hand, we may suppose that his mechanical skill had enabled him to produce the melody by some of those con- trivances now familiar to us, but of which the efiect might then be ascribed to supernatural power. From an obscure expression in Ger- vase, It seems not improbable that, in addition to his skill in drawing 1'. ' Sjiclui. Coiu-il. 'UU.— A/igl. Sw:ia, toiii. ii. y. 112. 148 ECCLESIASTICAL SERIES. [Eiusi and engraving, he practised something like printing, or at least furnied men. The priestji now reply, that St Peter was a married man, and that they cannot live without the company of a woman." By the 9th of these canons, the clergy are forbidden to be present at a marriage, or to give their benediction, when either of the parties had been married before. The next seven canons describe the names and offices of the sev^en orders of the clergy. These are: 1. The ostiarj'^, whose duty it is to open and shut the church-doors, and ring the bells. 2. The lector, whose duty it is to read God's word in the church. 3. The exorcist, whose office is to drive out evil spirits by invocation and adjurations. 4. The acolyth, who holds the tapers at the reading of the gospel and celebration of mass. 5. The sub-deacon, who is to bring forth the holy vessels and attend the deacon at the altar. 6. The deacon, who ministers to the mass-priest, places the ob- lation on the altar, reads the gospel, baptizes children, and gives the housel to the people. 7. The mass-priest, or presbyter, who preaches, baptizes, and consecrates the housel. The 18th canon recognises the distinction between the secular clergy and the monks or regulars. The 19th commands the clergy to sing the seven tide-songs at the appointed hours, viz. The eight-song, or matins, early in the mornmg ; the prime- song at seven o'clock; the undern-song at nine o'clock; the mid-day song at twelve o'clock; the none-song at three o'clock afternoon; and the night-song at nine o'clock in the evening. By the 21st canon pri(!Sts are commanded to provide themselves with all the necessary books for performance of divine service, viz. The psalter, the epistle- book, the gospel-book, the mass-book, the song-book, the hand-book, the kalendar, the passional, the penitential, and the reading-book. By the 23d, priests are commanded to explain the gospel for the day, every Sunday, in English to the people, and to teach them the creed, and Lord's prayer, in English, as often as they can. By the 27th, priests are forbidden to take money for baptizing children, or performing any other part of their duty. The 32d commands them always to have a sufficient quantity of oil by them, wliich has been consecrated by the bishop, for baptizing children and anointing the sick. The 37th and last of these canons is in the form of an epistle, which was to be given to each priest on Maunday-Thursday when he came or sent to the bishop for his annual stock of consecrated chrism and oil, and contains a variety of minute directions about the celebration of mass and other offices. Among other ceremonies directed to be performed on Good- Friday, the people are ordered to adore and kiss the cross. A great number of fast-days are commanded to be observed, particularly every Friday, except from Easter to Pentecost, and fi-om Midwinter to Twelfth- Night. Sunday was to Ue kept from Saturday at noon till Monday morning.* • S.ulm. CoiK-il. Tmhi. i. p. 572— 5K2.— Jdhiison's (•.inuiis, A. D. 957. 150 ECCLESIASTICAL SERIES. [ElRST iElfric expelled all the regular canons, who would not abandon their wives, from the cathedral church of Canterbury, and instituted Benedictine monks into their places. He had also sufficient influence to procure a charter from King Etlielred in favour of the monks. This seems to have been the last transaction of this prelate's life. He died in 1005, and was succeeded by Elphegus, bishop of Winchester. 9[ltJi)un, Bishop of iBiuljam. DIED A. D. 1018. Aldhun was the first bishop of Durham. He succeeded Elfsig in the see of Lindisfarne or Holy Island, in the year 990, being the 12th of King Ethelred, He was noble by birth, according to Simeon of Durham, but much more so by his virtues and his religious deportment. He was a monk not merely in the external garb of the order, but in the real sanctity of his character. After a residence of six years in Lindis- farne, the incursions of the Danish pirates, to which the island wai> greatly exposed, obliged him to think of removing; though some au- thors allege he was induced to this resolution by a direct admonition from heaven. Whatever his motives were, whether celestial or piratical, he left the place, taking with him the body of St Cuthbert, which had been buried there about a hundred and thirteen years. He was ac- companied by the monks and the whole population ; and after wander- ing about tor some time, at last he settled with his followers at Durham, or Dunelm, consisting then only of a few scattered huts or cottages. The ground, we are told, was covered with a very thick wood, which the reverend prelate, with the assistaiice of the people, managed to cut down and clear away. Having assigned them their respective habitations by lot, he began to build a church, which he finished in three years, and dedicated to St Cuthbert, the bones of that saint being deposited within it. From that time the episcopal see which had been placed at Lindis- farne by bishop Aidan, remained fixed at Durham, and the new cathe- dral church was endowed with considerable benefactions by Ethelred, and several of the nobility. Aldhun had a daughter, Egfrid, whom he gave in marriage to Ucthred, earl of Northumberland, and with her as dowry, six towns belonging to the episcopal see, on condition that he siiould never divorce her. This condition, however, was afterwards broken ; tor Malcolm, king of Scotland, having invaded Northumberland and laid siege to Durham, Ucthred, putting himself at the head of the Northumbrian and Yorkshire men, fell upon the Scots, and gave them a total overthrow, the king himself narrowly escaping by flight. The young earl, flashed with his honours, and perhaps thinking himself entitled to a higher alliance, repudiated the bishop's daughter without assigning any reason, and was shortly after united to Elgina the daugh- ter of king Ethelred. Egfrid was again divorced from her second hus- band, a thane in Warwickshire, after which she returned to Durham, and shut herself up in a convent during the rest of her life. The dotal lands and the six towns were restored the church. Aldhun was [)receptor to the king's two sons; and when their father was driven from his throne by Sweyn king of Denmark, in the year 1016, he conducted L:. PtRion.] ALDIIUN. 151 them, together witli Queen Emma, into Normandy to Duke Richard the (liieen's brother. The terrible overthrow whieh the ICnglisli received in 1018, from tiie Scots, proved fatal to tlie ve-iierable Aldhun. He was so afiected by the news tliat he du-d a tew days after. " Wretch that I am," said the expiring prelate when he heard of the disaster, " why have I lived to see this time! Was it to behold the destruction of my people? O holy confessor CuthbertI if I have d(jne any thing pleasing in thy sight, now reward me by not permitting me to witness the slaughter of thy people." He held the prelacy twenty-nine years, and viifi esteemed a pious and good iiiaji. HISTORICAL INTRODUCTION TO SECOND PERIOD, KXTICNDINO KKOM THIC CONQUEST TO THE ACCESSION OF EDWARD 1. wnii BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICES OF EMINENT E N G L I S H M E N WHO FLOUKIbHEU DURING THAT I'jaUOt). HISTORICAL INTRODUCTION SECOND PERIOD. State of the Anglo-Saxons at the comnu'st — Of the Norm;uis — Iinprovemeiit of the English cluiiai'ter after the conquest — State of property after the conquest — Feudal system established — Power of the crown limited by the great council — The Saxon wittenagemote — The great council — The words baron, &c. used in various niean- inen to con- ciliate their good-will, and, as the first act of his administration, grant- ed a charter, in which he engaged that all the bad customs by which the kingdom had been oppressed, should be removed. The charter of .Stephen — in the vulgar meaning of the word, an usurper — was still more explicit than that of Henry, though its execution was delayed by civil war. But whatever the arbitrary practices of the crown in an unsettled age, the right of the sovereign to enact laws without the consent of the great council, or as it was afterwards termed, the parliament of the kingdom,^ was not acknowledged, nor the attempt ventured, even in the times of the Conqueror. According to the words of a writ of sum- mons to parliament, in the time of Edward I., it was always a maxim of the English constitution, " that what concerned all, should be done with the approbation of all; and that danger to the whole community, should be obviated by remedies provided Jjy the whole community." '° How the great councils were composed during the reigns of the first princes of the Norman and Plantagenet line, is, however, a question of considerable interest, with regard to which, it is proposed to enter into some discussion. Some of our most eminent antiquaries have repre- sented them as formed on the model of the baronial courts of the dif- ferent feudal lords, and, therefore, as attended only by the king's tenants-in-chief, or even a portion of their number. We shall, perhaps, have occasion to see that there was no very precise rule upon the sub- ject; but, in the meantime, in reference to the opinion of those who argue flor the constant and absolute exclusion of all but a very limited part of the community from these assemblies, it ought to be observed, that, as regards political subordination, the feudal system was not esta- blished in England in the vigour by which it was distinguished on the continent, and that the Saxon institutions retained strength sufficient to check the spirit of the feudal aristocracy. At the same time, the paramount authority of the king's courts over those of the nobles, in conjunction with the influence of the county and hundred courts, weak- ened the ties of feudal subjection, and tempered the feelings of the vassal with those of the citizen. Even in Normandy, the dependence of the vassal on his lord was not so deeply rooted as in the rest of France. The baronial courts had not so large a jurisdiction ;" and the court of Exchequer, composed of the principal officers of the duke, and the barons, or their delegates, comprehended the whole duchy within its jurisdiction; examined into abuses, and received appeals from the inferior tribunals. * Parliament was nut a word in common use till the time of Eilwaril 1. ; but in these n-maiks it has sometimes been used as sync/ivrn'^us with " the great council." '" Rot Unus, 2i, Ed. i. as cited by Lyttellon, Ilist. of Henry II. ii. 279.— iioe also Bra''ton. ■' Houard Anc. Lois dos Frangais, i. p. 1;K). i. X 162 HISTORICAL INTRODUCTION In entering upon an inquiry into the constitution of the great council, .'t may be proper, in the first place, to state shortly the nature and func- tions of the Saxon tvittenagemote, of which it was the successor. In con- junction with the king, the wittenagemote possessed all the powers of go- vernment. Its assent was necessary to the enactment of laws ; it had the supreme judicial power of the kingdom ; the question of peace and war lay with it ; at its meetings grants of land by the crown were bestowed or confirmed. There, also, the election of bishops, subject to confirma- tion by the sovereign,'^ was sometimes made ; and the prerogative of the assembly went the length of regulating the succession to the throne itself. The name of this council, invested with so great authority, means literally, the assembly of the wise men ; and in the general de- scriptions of historians, it is said to have consisted of prelates and ab- bots, of the aldermen of shires, and of the wise men, great men, coun- sellors, and senators of the kingdom." We have, however, only im- perfect notices of the manner of its constitution. But it seems most probable, that " as the court of every tything, liundred, and shire was composed of the respective proprietors of land in tliose districts, tlie constituent members of the wittenagemote were the people of a similar description througliout the whole kingdom." '* The passage in the register of Ely, from which some have inferred that no one had a right to appear in the assembly, unless he possessed an estate of 40 hides of land, or between 4000 and 5000 acres, does not warrant that conclu- sion.'* If, then, all the proprietors of lands, or, as they were termed, thanes, who were very numerous, had the right of attending at the de- liberations of the wittenagemote, that right must have been extensive; but it is also obvious, that the exercise of the abstract right would practically be but limited, — without representation it wiis useless ; and is only deserving of remark, as it marks the popular bias of the Saxon polity. If, indeed, it could be shown that the dignity of alderman or earl, though in time it became hereditary or dependent upon the will of the monarch, had been originally an annual office, to which the free- holders in the county court had the right of election,'^ its possessor, when sitting in the wittenagemote, might not inaptly be considered a representative of the county over which he presided. But the Saxon chronicle informs us, that the king, in early times, had the nomination of the dukes, earls, and sheriffs of the counties ; and Alfred appears, of his own authority, to have deposed several ignorant aldermen." Like the wittenagemote of the Saxon monarchy, the great council, after the conquest, possessed the supreme legislative and judicial power of the realm. It was generally assembled at the three festivals of Christmas, Easter, and Whitsuntide. The Easter council was usually summoned by the Conqueror to Winchester ; the Whitsuntide one to *" Eddius, cap. 2. — Himifi, i. 203. " Turner's History of the Anglo-Saxons, iv. 275. '* Millar's Historical View of the Eno. (iov. i. 205 — Spelman Concil. sub ann. 535. " Hallam's Middle Ages, ii. 388. — Sir William Dugdale was of oijinion, that tlie same qualification was necessary to the creation of a parliamentary barony after Uie conquest. — Carte, ii. 246.— Diigdale's Preface to the Baronage of England. " As supposed, by Millar, i. 291, 293,295. " It destTV( s, however, to be noticed, that the laws of Edward the Confessor state ex- pressly, §35, that the heretochs, or dukes, were elected by tlie freeholders. The once popular notion, that the Anglo-Saxons had a representative system, may. now be loolfed up.un as altogether abandoned. TO SECOND PERIOD. 163 VVostminstcr; that convoked at Cliristinas to Gloucester. But tlie Buine places were not chosS° Hen. Ill " I-'(jed. 1. 147. " Wiliiins Leg. Anglo-Sax. 216. — Hovedtm Annals, S13. TO SECOND PERIOD. 166 its deliberations." Similar lantTua<];e is employed in the description of a council held in the year 1100 by lleiiry I., of another under the same monarch in 1114; and of one in tiie first yi'ar of Stephen. In 1157, Henry II. summoned 'the leaders and great men of tlie kingdom, and otiier jjcrsons of inferiour rank' (aliosque inferioris ordinis personas,) — There can be no question that the inferior clergy fri'quently attended, many of them who did not hold lands of the crown,"'' and that not in the mere humble character of attendants upon the dignified clergy. It was the case at the well-kno\\n council of Clarendon, and among the laity, besides the earls and barons, the older and more noble of tiie land (nobiliores et antiquiores regni) are also mentioned. Who these older men were it is more difficult to say, but the supposition is not impro- bable that they were men selected in each county, (perhaps by the free- holders) fioni their age and knowledge, best acquainted with the laws of the kingdom, and well fitted to participate in a council where very important questions were to be agitated. But too much stress ought not to be laid uj)on many of these apparently extensive enumerations. They show undoubtedly that others besides the king's vassals were often present; but the language is apt to mislead by its comprehensiveness. The phrases of the ' whole kingdom,' ' all the people,' seem indeed to have been often employed by the writers of the age to characterize any meeting of the great council, which assumed to itself, or had the power of binding the nation, just as in later times by common usage, the House of Commons was said to be composed of the representatives of the people, when the great proportion of its members had in fact no claim to that title. It \\ as not wonderful, however, as the relations of society then stood, that the king's great council should not have been composed, like the courts of the barons, only of the immediate tenants. — Doomsday proves that many of the tenants in capite were also vassals of other lords, and we find from the entries in the Black Book of the exchequer in the reign of Henry II. that the number of such persons had increased in the in- tervening periods. But as the crown vassals frequently burdened the lands of their subvassals with the whole amount of the services due by themselves to the crown, and thus had their own lands free fi-om charge, their subtenants soon came to have an immediate interest in the consul- tations of tiie great council relative to taxation. And though the atten- dance of this last class of persons was not constant, and though their absence did not, at least originally, affect the force of the decisions of the great council, yet from the time of the conquest down to the final establishment of the representation of the commons in parliament, we have in every reign incontrovertible evidence of their occasional atten- dance. It has been supposed"' that in those times, a distinction existed between the attendance necessary at a council where measures were to be adopted between subject and subject, or between the crown and the subject, apart from taxation, and a council where additional taxation w;is to be required ; and if tiiis opinion be meant merely to express that a.^^- siniblies for the former purjjose were not in general so numerous a^ " Kailiner Ilisi. I. p. 2(i.27 "" Writ of 6" John apud Lord's l.st Report as piiiiicd by oidi r of Uu- llous<- of Com- III'MIS. p. £H. *' Lord's itporl on llio dignity of a (iter. 166 HISTORICAL INTRODUCTION those summoned to enforce some additional burden, there seems no rea- son to dispute its accuracy. But many councils were attended by the inferior tenants, which were convened rather for judicial than legislative discussion. It ought also to be recollected, that as before the conquest all the landowners of the county were members of the county court, so after that i^eriod the attendance was not confined to the immediate ten- ants of the cro^vn; and when representatives of counties were summoned to parliament, their election was not confined to such tenants, but lay with all the freeholders."^ Further, if to obtain a seat in the wittenage- mote the possession of land was sufficient, it may not unnaturally be supposed that the holding of land by knight-service might in feudal times be looked upon as a good enough title to admission to the more important and general meetings of the great council, without regard to the superior of whom the land was held ; the co-right attached to the proprietorship of territorial property being the result alike of Saxon and Norman policy ; the restriction to tenants by military service being the consequence of feudal prejudices alone. But unquestionably there were often persons in the great council who did not fall under either of these descriptions. And it seems therefore most probable that for a considerable period, there were no definite regulations as to the mode in which a council should be com- posed; it being always understood, however, that the tenants in capite had a right to be summoned, while the presence of others was in a great measure variable, and dependent upon the inclinations of the monarch. Such a supposition appears to be most consistent with con- temporary evidence ; and one part of it (the right of the crown-tenants) receives the strongest confirmation from a provision of Magna Charta ; for it was not till its promulgation, that any distinction Avas attempted to be made even in the mode of summoning them to parliament. Be- fore that time it would appear, that each of them was by law entitled to a special writ ; but the increase of their number, perhaps some vague notion of the introduction of a representative system, or the desire of the greater nobles to elevate themselves above the inferior vassals, was the cause of a provision, that while the greater barons should be specially summoned, a general summons only should be directed to the lesser barons through the sheriff of the county. What the distinction between those two classes of persons \\a», is a point by no means as- certained.-" Lord Lyttelton^" and others have contended, that while the tenants in chief of the crown were entitled to appear each of them on his own account, the other freeholders of the kingdom, comprehending all who held of the barons, either by kniglit-service or free soccage, all the pos- sessors of allodial estates, and all the free inhabitants of cities and burghs appeared by representatives. This proposition is far too broadly stated. But though the practice of representation was undoubtedly not so constant as this eminent author would have it ; yt t, if such a pi'actice ^ Edin. Review, vol. xxvi.3(4.— Report on tuilliic Records, ISOO, p. 60. — Hundred Roils i. p. 23. (as tliere cited, j ™ Seldoii imagined ihat the title of greater barons was conferred upon the old tenants or chief of the crown — that of iles.ser barons upon tliose "ho had become so by the f;ift of escheated baronies. Hody thought thai the major haroiis were the king's teraiils — the minor, the vassals of some ereai subject. ^" Lytlelton's Hist. vol. ii. 274. el seq. vol. iv. yj. el stq. TO SECOND PERIOD. 167 Imd boeii introduced for the first time by the earl of Leicester in the 4l)th of Henry III., ;is is generally believed, it is reasonable to con- clude that it would have excited more observation among the historians of the period, and occasioned greater opposition. It must indeed be admitted, that there are various instances in the earlier history of the kingdom, which show, not that a representative system was in use to the full extent for which Lord Lyttelton has argued, but that on important occasions it had been partially introduced. Tm'O instances of repre- sentation have already been mentioned, one of them in a council of William the Conqueror, only four years after the conquest, at which twelve persons attended from each county ; and the other at the coun- cil of Clarendon, if we may suppose that " the older men of the kingdom" there mentioned, were intended to represent the freeholders. But the most decisive examples of the gradual rise of a settled plan of representation, are to be found after the date of John's great charter. Immediately before that event, however, and in the 15th year of John's reign, writs were issued to the sheriffs of the different counties,^' di- recting them to require the presence of four knights out of their respec- tive counties, as a council to be holden at Oxford. It is remarkable, that the knights appear to have been summoned for the purpose of deliberation alone, while the barons were directed to attend with arms for the performance of military service, — a circumstance which points out the barons as the crown's tenants in chief, from whom such ser- vices could be exacted, and the knights as the representatives of the other freeholders. From them John, perhaps, expected assistance in the struggle in which he was then engaged ; but that struggle ended on the publication of the great charter. That these knights were elected in the county courts may be inferred from this, that the writ issued by the king from Runnymede, directed twelve knights to be chosen by each county, in the first county court, to ascertain the bad customs which were to be abolished according to the charter.^'^ Other instances of representation are mentioned below. " Feed. i. 117. ** In the 4tli of Henry III. we have a writ, directing two liniglits to be chosen by every county for tlie purpose of assessing an aid granted by the great council. An elec- tion, even with that limited object, does not appear unimportant in tracing the first rude beginnings of a representative government ; for, as these liniglits not only collected the tax, but made a report of grievances to the king, their introduction into parliament itself was only an additional and easy step. In the 7th of Henry III. again, every sheritt was ordered to inquire, by means of twelve knights, what were the rights of the crown in his county on the day on wiiich the war betjan between John and his barons. Lin- gard, ii. 222.— Brady, ii. App. No. lJ9.—In"tlie 8th of Henry III. two knights, elected in the county court, were sent from each county to the great council. Carte, ii. 250. — In tiielOth of same king, we meet with writs directing the sheriffs of certain counties to send four representatives for each county, to attend the king and the magistrates at Lincoln, lOuching certain questions wliich had arisen between the sheriffs and freeholders as to the cliarter of liberties. In 124fi, (30° Hen. III.) the burgesses of the Cinque Ports are expressly said to have been present. In the 38th of Henry III., writs were issued to the sheriffs of counties to cause two knights elected by eacii county, to attend the com- mon council, in the name of and for the county, at Westminster, to consult as to an aid to be granted to the king. This lias been regarded as the strongest instance of re- presentation previously to the 49lh Henry III. Eut the anxious directiuji that the persons elected were to be endowed with the above-mentioned authoriiy, and sin\ilar expressions in the writ-; of Edwaid I., requiring the election of knights for each county, " with authority to act for the county, that the business might not fail for want of s.ich authority," have been supposed to prove that the custom of representiition had nut at ail events been unifoim •, and, moreover, that in all probability it had not been intio- diiced by express law, else the authority would have been a necessary consequence oi election. On the other hand, it must be noticed, that iliis parliament was called by 1(38 HISTORICAL INTRODUCTION Looking, indeed, to the change in the state of property which had taken place, and to the facts mentioned in our last note, we have strong grounds for supposing that, long before the end of the reign of Henry III., representations of counties, at all events, had occasionally appeared in parliament. Many of the most powerful families in the cciuntry held of the king, not as in right of his crown, but of some escheat ; and other families of considerable importance were vassals of the king's tenants- in-chief. If the former remained mere tenants of the manor which had devolved to the king, and the other were confined to the courts of their lords, without either having the right of attendance at the great coun- cils, we should have met with complaints of the preference given to the smaller immediate tenants of the crown. That the crown-vassals by escheat were not entitled to a seat in parliament is very improbable ; for no distinction is made between them and the other tenants iti capite, on that clause of the great charter relating to the granting of aids, — an omission which could hardly have occurred if any such dis- tinction had existed. But the personal attendance of so large a body was impossible ; and there is nothing more likely than that an approach should have been made to the representation by them before any ex- press enactments were made regarding it. If the representation of counties before the end of Henry the Third's reign be involved in doubt, that of cities and boroughs may be consi- dered more questionable, though supported by the authority of some eminent names. It is true, that in the Saxon times, the towns were often places of considerable strength and importance, and that London in particular had a great share in the politics of that troubled age. From Doomsday it appears, that many burghs included among their inhabitants persons of the rank of thanes, and owed military service to the king, and that the burgesses held their lands and tenements in heritage. The conquest, indeed, materially affected their prosperity, but they gradually recovered it ; and they acted a conspicuous part in the obtaining of Magna Charta, and the barons* wars of Henry III. the queen, and Ricliant, earl of Cornwall, during the king's absence at Guienne ; and it IS therefore extremely improbable that such an election of knights of the sliire would have been ordered had that election been an entire innovalion. Carte, ii. 251. — Four years afterwards (42° Henry III.) four knights from each county, attended a meeting of parliament, as appears from writs remaining for payment of their expenses. It was at this parliament, which met at Oxford, that the famous provisions of Oxford were adopted, by which the power of the crown was virtually extinguished ; and it is wortliy of remark, that the Oxford parliament was convened in order that persons might at- tend with power to consent to a general aid : a previous one convoked at London, and composed of the ' Proceres et fideles regni,' not conceiving itself to have sufficient au- thority to impose ii. Feed. i. 370. — It may, therefore, be inferred that the greater ba- rons, at all events, perhaps even the tenants-in-chief of the crown — for the expression might include them all — had now begun to doubt their right to grant an aid in the ab- sence of delegates authorised to act for tlie body of the freeholders, and it seems fair to conclude, that if some kind of representation had not been previously known, there would have been some directions in regard to the manner of choosing the persons to whom such powers vere to be committed. Again, in 1261, (45° Henry III.) the barons sum- moned three knights from every county, to attend at St Alban's, and consult on the affairs of the realm ; but the king annulled the writs, and ordered the knights to come to Windsor to be present at the intended conference between him and the barons. Lin- gard, iii. 174. — Brad), ii. App. No. 202. — Some instances have already been mentioned of the attendance of the inferior clerg}' in parliament, and it appears from the aimals of Burton, sub ann. 1255, that the whole body of the clergy sat by repiesentatives in the 39th Henry III. History supplies other examples, aiid none of them are mentioned i)y the writers of the time, all of them ecclesiastics, as a novelty — a strong proof, certainly, that the practice of representation was not altogether unknown, long before tlie end of Ui:!iry the Third's reign. TO SECOND PERIOD. 169 I>at whatever the growint^ importance of the burghs, it is difTicult to "see on wliat ground, bclbro they were ineoqjorated, thoj' ooulil liave claimed a(huission to tlic great council. As on tlic continent, before tlie gift of chartera of incorpoi-ation, tlie towns were generally ruled by a chief elected by the sovereign or over-lord, to whom the ap])ellation ol Burggraf ov Chalelain was given, so in England, those belonging to the crown were under the administration of the king's reeve or bailiff. The twelfth century is the first epoch of civic enfranchisement. Lon- don got its charter from Henry I. on the day of his accession in 1100, and liad the priority of all the other cities of England : the most ancient communities of France owe their rise to Louis VI. in 1109 -P those oi Flanders were created in the last half of the same century : the charters of the towns of Brabant, Holland, and Zealand, are still more recent. The incorporated communities of Castile had indeed an earlier origin. The charter of Leon was granted in 1020 : Carrion, Slanes, Naxasa, Sahagun, Salamanca, and other towns acquired similar privileges in the course of the same century.^* But even after the rise of corporate burghs in England, the aids of the burgesses in ancient demesne were certainly not imposed by the parliament or great council. Under Henry I., and in the beginning of the reign of Henry IL, the tallages imposed upon them were accounted for by the sheritis, without any indication of the authority under which they were levied.^^ But during the reign of Henry II., and for a considerable time aftei'wards, they were solicited or extorted by the justices on their iters. There was no motive there- fore to convoke the burghs for the purpose of obtaining money, and if delegates from them attended parliament at all, it could obviously have been only on extraordinary occasions. The analogy, too, of other feudal monarchies — though such an argu- ment is by no means conclusive — is hostile to the opinion of those writers who ai-gue for an early representation of the cities in the great council. In France, they were present for the fii'st time, at the estates of the kingdom, about the year 1300 :^^ in Germany, it is said, the free cities did not appear at the diet till 1356 : in Flanders, celebrated for the greatness and wealth of its towns, they had no representation till after the year 1300. The practice of Castile, whose constitution was at that time founded on a more liberal basis than that of any other country in Europe, is perhaps of more authority. Deputies from the Castilian towns formed a part of the cortes for the first time in 1169 : and it was not till 1188, that they became constant and necessary members of these general assemblies.^'' It must not, however, be forgotten, that in the writ issued in the 49th of Henry HI., enjoining the attendance oi representatives of burghs, only two, the cities of York and Lincoln, are particularly mentioned, — a separate writ appears to have been sent to London and the Cinque Poi'ts, — and then there is a general direction ' ceteris burgis Anglioe ' to attend by two of their burgesses. This vague mention of them has been urged by Lord Lyttelton, as a strong argument, that the burghs which had been in use to send members to parliament were well-known : but this inference is doubtful, for the ut- most that can be asserted, is an occasional appearance of their represen- tatives in the earlier periods of our history, not that constant attendance "-^ Ut'cui'il Hes ordonn. tk'S llois de France, xi. 2ij0. ^ Hallatu's Middle Apes, ii. 9 ** M.idox Excheqiiur, i. Cii>i. ''■ rjusijuier Uecheivlu^s. •" ll.jiiaiii, ii 2!». I- Y 170 HISTORICAL INTRODUCTION which would have been necessary to point out clearly the burghs en- titled to the privilege. It would seem indeed, that representatives of London attended the council which transferred the crown to the empress Maud, during the captivity of Stephen f^ that in the time of Richard I., its mayor and principal citizens concurred with the barons in depos- ing the bishop of Ely from the office of chancellor ; and that the burgesses of the Cinque Ports attended a council held on the 30th of Henry III. But such examples do not warrant us in concluding that a system of representation was established, though they may be regarded as an occasional practice naturally leading to its full introduction. When men were accustomed to judge of institutions by their antiquity, rather than their usefulness, it is not surprising that the diffisrent ques- tions which have been shortly considered, should have been discussed with much acrimony. In the present times, they will generally be looked upon as objects of historical curiosity, neither affecting the settlement of any political right, nor requiring the exhibition of any political predilection. At all events, this is clear that in the earl of Leic-ester's famous parliament in 1263, (49° Henry HI.) alongst with two knights from each county, representatives were summoned from various cities. This innovation, if it was one, was not abandoned ; and though in some parliaments in the beginning of the reign of Edward I., representatives of burghs may not have been summoned, we have un- questionable evidence of their occasional presence at least, even during that period ; and after the 21st year of his reign, they formed an un- doubted part of the parliament of the kingdom. As to the character of the man to whom the first formal introduction of the principle of representation is owing, there is conflicting testimony. Leicester's am- bition may have been greater than his patriotism ; his opposition to Henry more ardent, than his political views profound. The provisions of Oxford, by which he contrived to vest the whole executive and legis- lative power in the hands of a small number of his partizans, was a dangerous usurpation ; and the reforms, in expectation of which the nation yielded to those enactments, were not only long delayed, but when at last brought forward were of little moment. Yet we have no sufficient evidence that Leicester entertained the daring views with which he has sometimes been charged, and it ought to be remembered, that though a fc reigner, he reached the highest pitch of popularity in a nation to whom, at that time, foreign influence was peculiarly odious : that in support of his government he ventured to appeal to the repre- sentatives of a class of men generally supposed to have been more sub- servient to the crown than friendly to the nobles ; and that his death excited the lamentations of the English people, by whom his memory was long cherished with peculiar veneration. The manners of the people were improved, and the tone of society was elevated, along with the advance of public liberty. During the three reigns after the conquest, the instances of wanton ferocity are numerous and revolting. Henry I., though more polished than his father or brother, inflicted the most barbarous punishments upon his enemies. To deprive them ofpye-sight, was his usual mode of revenge f^ and some historians have related that he subjected his unfortunate " Mulm^slury. |(« >s Orel. \'ital. 860, 8H1. TO SECOND PERIOD. 171 l)rotliei, Robert of Nonnaiuly, to that cruel operation. Stephen was generous and liberal, and displayed his f^^enerosity even amid the niiser- ii!s of civil war. But it was the amiable and attractive character of Henry II., that had the gn^atest intluence in refining the nation. Pcace- Fui, yet brave ; just, witliout severity ; and distinguished for talents and noble sentiments, he presented a happy model for their imitation. Learning ventured from the cloisters of the monks, — wandering min.strels circulated the rude traditional poetry of the age, — the courtesies of chivalry were more in observance, — and the voluminous poems of the Anglo-Norman versifiers, however deficient in the graces of poetry, were eagerly perused, and in such an age must undoubtedly have been instructive. The fabulous British history of Jeffrey of Monmouth was published before Henry's accession ; but Boece, whose historical poem still remains, was befriended by that monarch, and names him affection- ately as his patron. Ilicliard I. embarked in the crusades witli ardour, where his brilliant exploits acquired for him a splendid reputation which has descended even to our own times. These romantic adventures to the Holy Land were of themselves well-fitted to raise the tone of national feeling : the knightly qualities of Richard, his encouragement of poetry, and his own poetical efforts in the Proven9al tongue, gave that feeling a fresh impulse. It was fortunate that the bonds of unity had been drawn closer, that tlie people had risen in civilization, and that there was a greater incli- nation to strengthen the foundations of public freedom, or of their own assumptions as a body, among the nobles, than to arrogate individual independence of the croAvn, when the distracted government of the weak and treacherous John, and his no less weak and faithless, but more in- offensive son, presented the most favourable opportunities for checking the growth of the royal prerogatives. Other causes, indeed, besides the weakness of these two monarchs, were acting to the same end. The civil war in the time of Stephen, — the misfortunes of Henry II. at the close of his reign, — the exertions of Richard I. to obtain a sum sufficient to defray the expenses of his crusade, — the amount of his ransom, — the loss of Normandy in the time of John, — his mismanagement, — and the profusion of Henry III. to his favourites, — the increased expense of de- fending the foreign dominions after the loss of Normandy, — had greatly diminished the crown's ordinary revenues; and rendered the sovereign more dependant upon the aids which he could obtain from his subjects. The demand for supplies Avas soon met with the statement of grievances ; and the reign of Henry HI. is full of importunate requests by the king for assistance, and frequently as preremptory refusals by the great council to grant it. But these were not the only causes which, happily for England, prevented any attempt on the part of the nobles individu- ally at independence. Though the Conqueror granted large estates to his followers, yet by a wise policy he took care that they were divided and situated in different parts of the kingdom. No great territorial power, therefore, could be formed ; while, on the other hand, the partial continuance of the county and hundred courts were a still fai'ther re- straint upon the local jurisdictions of the feudal lords. Had these courts retained all the power which they possessed in Saxon times, it might be amusing to conjecture in what form the constitutioq would ultimately have been developed. Perhaps, if the king's courts had not 172 HISTORICAL INTRODUCTION gradually trenched upon their authority, the uncertainty of their de- risions, and their defects as courts of justice, might have been favourable to the increase of the baronial jurisdiction, and aristocratic power. As it happened while the county-court especially preserved many of its privi- leges, and thus formed a bulwark against the spread of feudal relationships, the judicial functions were gradually usurped by the royal tribunals, and a new and more effectual check was imposed upon the rise of territorial jurisdiction. One of the principal reasons for the decline of the county-courts, as courts for the administration of justice, is undoubtedly to be found in the separation of the ecclesiastical and civil jurisdictions, which took place in the reign of the Conqueror. Previously to the conquest, the clergy sat alongst with the other freeholders ; and by their superior knowledge and judicial skill in a great measure kept up the reputation of these tribunals, which rapidly declined after the clergy were witli- drawn. But their withdrawal was attended by other pernicious conse- quences. The clergy gradually assumed powers inconsistent with good government, and removed themselves from the control of the lay juris- dictions. Their ambition rose by concession, and for a long time the ablest of our monarchs struggled unsuccessfully against the Roman see. The admission of a legate into the kingdom, which was strenuously ob- jected to by the Conqueror and William Rufus, was not long resisted. In the reign of Henry I., the question of investitures was agitated, and the demands of the pope for a time evaded. But Henry H. with all his power and popularity, was subjected to much humiliation in his contest with the papacy ; and John, after proceeding to extremes, yielded with his usual pusillanimity, nay, actually surrendered his kingdom into the hands of the pope, from whom he again received it to be held as a fief of the holy see. At the same time, it must be noticed, that the claims of ecclesiastical superiority were sooner and more boldly met in England than in many other of the European kingdoms ; and that the clergy themselves were generally disposed to foster the spirit of liberty among the people, and not unfrequently appear as the champions of their rights in the deliberations of parliament. It may have been that they found a more obstinate resistance in the sovereign, than among the body of the nation to their encroachments. But they showed the same inclina- tion in the reign of John, even after the pope had absolved him from the oath which he had taken to maintain the great charter ; and in the time of Henry III., many of the monks and inferior clergy were zealous adherents of Leicester and the barons. On reviewing the history of the period then, to which this introduc- tory chapter relates, it is very obvious that though we meet with much arbitrary conduct, the government was not founded on the principles of a despotic monarchy. The charters, too, which were granted by all the Norman and Plantagenet princes, are so many compacts between the sovereign and the people. If their frequent renewal be a proof of the arbitrary attempts of the government, it indicates also the determi- nation of the people or the barons, to impose effectual checks upon the royal authority. We have seen that for some time after the conquest, the principal object of popular desire was the revival of the old laws of Edward the Confessor; and the charters of William Rufus, Henry I. and Stephen — the last more iu!cqui\ ovally than its predecessors — professed TO SECOND PERIOD. 173 to yield on tliis head to the loud petitions of the people, wliieh had originated in the liatred of Norman oppression. In the reign of Henry II., whose charter did not contain so broad a renewal of the Confessor's laws, the condition of the English was ameliorated ; the two hostile races had coalesced into one nation, and henceforward the cry for the laws of Edward was forgotten in the more rational attempt to extort concessions from the sovereign adapted to the changed relations of so- ciety. But after all, the wliolc of these charters, including Magna Charta itself, did not so much impose new restraints upon the royal prerogative, as declare the state of the law at the time they were respec- tively promulgated. By the charter of Henry I., ibr example, the in- cident of wardship was abandoned, and that of marriage asserted only in a very modified form : whereas in John's charter — commonly called Magna Charta — the former is conceded, and the other extended in a great degree. Such variations are not to be explained by any differ- ence in the character of the monarchs. There is no comparison between the able and politic Henry, and the despised pusillanimous John, yield- ing to the dictation of the haughty barons. But the apparent anomaly is resolved when we consider that the barons by whom Magna Charta was extorted, had submitted to these feudal burdens, because they were more than compensated by the same incidents which they, in their turn, levied from their vassals after, with the most unsparing cupidity : and that the Great Charter, therefore, only adopted and defined the custom, which circumstances had introduced. Had that charter not contained the provision ' that every liberty and custom which the king had granted to his tenants, as far as concerned him, should be observed by the clergy and laity towards their tenants, as far as concerned them' — a clause which a party depending upon the popularity of their measures did not dare to omit — we should, in all likelihood, have found the inci- dents of wardship and marriage of the crown-tenants greatly restricted, if not abolished altogether. There can, indeed, be no question that though Magna Charta contains some provisions in favour of the people, it chiefly consulted the interests of the barons. Its reputation has been acquired by the capacity of adaptation in some of its clauses, to the necessities of a more advanced stage of society ; and by its having been the first great example of resistance to monarchical pretension. But the selfish spirit of the feudal oligarchy was displayed by their consenting to the omission in the charter of any restriction on tallage, a tax which weighed upon the people, and an abatement of which was proposed in the original stipulations, which the confederated barons steadfastly insisted upon the proposed reduction of scutage, a burden which pressed upon themselves. The formal recognition, however, of the right of at least a portion of the people to be consulted in the imposition of taxation, was an invaluable concession which could be applied to more beneficial purposes than the support of aristocratical domination. That clause, indeed, was omitted in the four charters of Henry III., though in the first of them, issued not by authority of the great council, but of the bai'ons of the king's party, it was reserved for future consideration. The consideration was not necessary in Henry's reign, for the clause in John's charter remained in full operation ; and parliament, acting upon its undoubted right, frequently refused the aids which the king requested Had Henrj' hesitated to acknowledge that right he would soon have been 174 POLITICAL SERIES. [Seconi. forced to the most unqualified admission of its existence — an admission to which Edward I., great and powerful as he was, found it necessary to submit I. POLITICAL SERIES. Wtlliam ti)t €onqucvov. BORN A. D. l()-2r. — DIED A. D. 1087. The witan had assembled in London immediately on the news of the defeat and death of Harold, and by unanimous choice placed the ethel- ing Edgar, the grandson of Edmond Ironside, on the throne. Had real union marked the counsels of the Anglo-Saxon chieftains, their country might yet have spurned from its soil the foot of the Norman invader, for an armed force that filled seven hundred ships was still in the chan- nel, waiting only a convenient opportunity to take the Normans in their rear,' and the country was still full of men who only wanted leaders to renew the array of Hastings against the further progress of the enemy. William's victory also had been dearly purchased, and the slowness and caution of his movements sufficiently indicated the sense he entertained of the magnitude and difficulty of the enterprise yet before him. But secret dissatisfaction prevailed among the English nobility; and among the disaffected towards the new order of things were Edwin and Morcar, the military commanders of Mercia and Northumberland, who drew off their forces to their respective provinces, and awaited the issue of their country's fate in a state of inactivity. The defection of these two powerful earls left the capital almost defenceless; but William now pre- ferred a more cautious line of policy than the desperate game he had so lately played might have indicated. Instead of instantly laying siege to the metropolis, he passed the Thames into Berkshire, and encamped at Wallingford. By this movement he placed himself betwixt the capi- tal and any forces which the earls of Mercia and Northumberland might have been at last prevailed on to send to its relief; it also afforded him time for negotiation with any party that might be disposed to offer it. The people of Kent had already proffered fealty to him, on condition of their province remaining as free after the conquest as it had been before it ;^ and their example was soon followed by various powerful indivi- duals. Stigand, the metropolitan bishop, whose influence had mainly contributed to the election of Edgar, was among the first to discover the utter hopelessness of the cause, and to swear fealty to the Norman ;^ Edwin and Morcar soon afterwards presented themselves for the like purpose; and finally a deputation from the citizens of London, and the clergy of the kingdom, made offer of the crown /to the Conqueror William, at first affected to receive the proposal that he should assume the title of king of England with indifference and even dislike ; but his Normans easily prevailed upon him to dismiss his scruples, and the ap- * Guil. Pictav. 201.- Ord. Vital. 500. * Chnui. Will. Thorn, p 1786. " Sep an arniy of autiioriiics qiiottd by J iiigard on the disputed (juestiuii K5 to Sti- ganii's cuiiduct .it tliis rrisic, vol I. )>. S'^S. Peuiod.] WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR. 1 75 proacliinj^ Christmas-day was fixed for the coronation. Westminster abbey \v;is the place appointed for the ceremony. It was prepared and decorated, to use tlie language of the Saxon cin'oniele, "as when, with the free suffrages of the best men of England, th(! king of their choice came and presented himself, then; to receive the investni(Mit of the power which tliey had confided to him." But tlie best anil noblest adornment of a coronation, a free and loyal people, was wanting on the present oc- casion; and before the new sovereign dared to present himself among his English subjects, he ordered the streets to be lined and the al)bey surrounded with bands of his Norman soldicy. The ceremony was performed by Aldred, archbishop of York, for Stigand had already fal- len into disgrace. That prelate put the question to the English, the bishop of Constance to the Normans, whether they were willing that William should be their sovereign.'' The English expressed their as- sent with loud shouts, which the Norman soldiery without mistook for the signal of tumult in the assembl}'; and thirsting for plunder, the for- eign troops immediately began to fire the city and attack the inhabi- tants. It was in the midst of the fearful tumult thus occasioned that William received investiture of the crown of England from the hands of Aldred, assisted by a band of trembling priests of both nations. The service was completed with precipitation; but the Conqueror took the jsual oath of the Saxon kings, with this addition, that he would govern his new subjects as well and justly as they had been governed by the best of his predecessors on the English throne.^ William had hitherto been called ' the Bastard :' from this period he received the name of ' the Conqueror,' a term which in that age did not necessarily involve the idea of a subjugated people, but was often em- ployed to denote a person who had vindicated for himself a just right. Neither was the term ' bastard' of such opprobrious import at that time as it has since become. William gave it to himself in many of his let- ters.^ The first policy of the new sovereign was liberal and wise ; he distinguished his coronation by magnificent largesses; admonished his barons to treat the natives with moderation and equity; affixed se- vere punishment to every species of insult, rapine, and assault; and ex- horted his English and Norman subjects generally to mutual good will and inter-alliance. To the etheling Edgar also he behaved with great generosity and show of affection, admitting him into the number of his intimate friends, and investing him with an estate not unfitting the de- scendant of an ancient race of kings. Still he found it necessary to place his chief reliance on the attachment of his own Normans, whose presence in his newly-acquired territory he could only secure by gi'ants of land to be holden by the tenure of military service. For this pur- pose the royal demesnes were freely sacrificed; and we havij the unsus- picious testimony of one of the sons of the Conqueror,'' that when these failed, the English were dispossessed in great numbers to make room for Norman holders of the soil. One alone amongst all the warriors in the ' The Norman historians clearly allow that William took the throne by election not by conquest. Guil. Pict. puts the question " whether they would consent,'' — '' an consfn- tirent eum sibi dominum coronari," p. 203. — Ord. Vital, has it, " whiUier they would yrant,'' — "'an cuncederent GiUielmum resnari; super se.'' p. 503. » Chron. Lamb. ad. ann 1066.— Ord. Vi:al. 503. * Spelm. Archaiol. 77- Kicardus Nigcllus, Rit;li;ird Lenoir or NoiioL. bishop of Ely in tlu^ 12lh eenliiry. 176 POLITICAL SERIES. [Second Conqueroi''s crain would accept of no part of the spoils of the van- quished. He was named Guilbert son of Richard. He claimed neither lands, nor gold, nor women. He said that he accompanied his liege lord into England because such was his duty; that he was not to be tempt- ed by stolen property, but was content to return to his own Norman patrimony, which, though small, sufficed for all his wants.^ Another precaution which William found it necessary to adopt, was the establish- ment of garrisons in fortified ports throughout the kingdom. The pre- sence and conduct of these bodies of soldiery greatly augmented the dissatisfaction of the country. Within the short space of three months after his coronation William returned to Normandy, leaving his seneschal William Fitz Osborne, and his half-brother Odo, bishop of Bayeux, regents of England in his ab- sence. His retinue consisted not only of many of the companions of his victory, but also many English thanes and prelates, whom he affect- ed to honour by placing among his attendants, but who were in reality only present as hostages for the tranquillity of their countrymen during William's absence. Among these were Edgar, Stigand, Frithoric abbot of St Albans, Edwin, Moi'car, and Waltheof son of Siward.^ William's chaplain and biographer has left it on record, that the royal retinue brought with them more gold and silver into Normandy on this occa- sion than had ever before been seen in all Gaul. Speaking of the riches brought from England, he says : " That land far surpasses Gaul in abundance of the precious metals. If in fertility it may be termed the granary of Ceres, in riches it should be called the treasury of Arabia The English women excel in the use of the needle, and in the embroi- dery of gold : the men in every species of elegant workmanship. More- over the best artists of Germany reside amongst them, and merchants import into their island the most valuable foreign productions."'" The extreme beauty, and the long flowing hair'' of the young English, also captivated the admiration of the Normans. But while William was making this display of his newly acquired wealth and grandeur to his ancient subjects, he was putting the allegiance of his new ones to a severe proof. Five months had passed away without any indication on his part of returning to England. Meanwhile the rapacity of his soldiery, and the apathy of his vice-gerents, were fast driving the English into exile or open insurrection. One body of the natives bade adieu to their country, and entered into the service of the Grecian emperor, under whose banners they fought in every action from the siege of Durazzo to the final retreat of their hated enemies the Normans, from the walls of Larissa.'' Another party sent deputies to Denmark to offer to Sveno Tiuffveskeg, a crown which had already graced the brows of two of his ancestors, Canute and Hardicanute. In the east the people of Kent broke out into actual rebellion ; while in Herefordshire, a young Saxon chief, aided by the Welsh, raised the standard of independence, and drove the Normans bevond the Severn. Tbese proceedings roused William from his supineness. He hastened across tlie channel, and in 8 Ord. Vital, p. 606. » Giiil Pict. 209. '» lb. 211. " Long hair was a mark of birth with the northern natioiis. " The descendants of tliese men for many generations served in the body-guard of ihe empeiors. "The\' and their heirs." sajs Ordericus, ''served faithfully the sacred empire; and they remain till now among the Thracians with great honour, dear i»; um people, tlie Semite, and the sovereign." p. &0(S. PrRioD.J WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR. 177 a scries of siiccissrtil ciijiagcnicnts reduced the inalcoiitents to external iiibmissiun. But the spirit of resistance Wiis still alive. The citizens of Durliain, aided by tl»e surrouiidini,' j)easantry, rose in a body anU massacred the Norman, Robert do Cumin and ids followers, on whoiir the king had conferred tlie ancient earldom of Cospatric; tiie citizens ot York, followed the example of the Durhamites, and rose upon the Nor- man garrison ; and Edgar, who, witii Jiis motln-r and sisters, and many 'good nun,' as the Saxon chronicle has it, had taken refuge at the court of Malcolm of Scotland, hastened to make conunon cause with his countrymen. The sword was now unsheathed between the king and his peoi)le, and a spirit of deadly enmity henceforth marked the conduct of his English and Norman subjects towards each other. To add to William's embarrassment, the sons of Harold, who had taken refuse with Dermot, one of the kings of Ireland, threatened the island on one side with a fleet of sixty-one ships, while Canute son of Sveno of Denmark, sister's son of Canute the Great, with a much larger armament hovered ofl" the other. The king was hunting in the forest of Dean when news were brought him that all Northumbria was in revolt, and that his strong city of York had been carried by assault and reduced to ashes. In the first trajisports of his wrath, he swore to render Northumbria a desert, and the dreadful oath was mercilessly performed. Marching against the insurgents he defeated them at all points, and left the country be- tween York and Durham without a single habitation, the refuge only of wild beasts and robbers.'^ From causes which we cannot now de- tail the Danish armament quitted the island without a struggle, and thus relieved William from his most formidable difficulty. The Eng- lish leaders now lost hope. Edgar, with the bishop of Durham, sailed to Scotland; Cospatric solicited and obtained pardon; Waltheof, whose niatcidess valour had long supported the spirits of his countrymen, and even extorted the admiration of the Normans themselves, visited the king on the banks of the Tees, and received from him the hand of his niece, Judith, in marriage, with his former earldoms of Northampton and Huntingdon!. But Malcolm of Scotland continued to perpetrate a series of the most desolating ravages on the northern parts of William's kingdom, and by his marriage with Margaret, the sister of Edgar, drew closer his bands of alliance with the Saxons and their expatriated prince." The heroic struggle maintained by Hereward Le Wake, the empecinado of his day, will be better detailed in a separate article. The fortunes of the English church during this calamitous season will also be treated of in the ecclesiastical section of this period In our introductory remarks on the period of English history, we have reviewed at some length the consequences of the Norman conquest, and the system of things which grew out of that event. We shall not re- capitulate ; but before proceeding with our rapid outline of the Con- queror's transactions, we may here present the reader with a few details selected from Thierry, in themselves perhaps scarcely worthy of notice, but which may assist the reader to picture in his imagination some of the scenes of the conquest, and fix on his memory a few curious traitis of the manners and habits of that age. England, after the conquest. " Hoveden, 451.— Oid. Vital. 514. '* Simeon, 200. — Flor. 636. Of the eight cliildien of this marriasie throe were siicce.'? sively kings of Scotliuid, one was queen, and one was mother to a queen of England. 178 POLITICAL SERIES. [Secowd presented the singular spectacle ot a native population with a foreign sovereign, a foreign hierarchy, and a foreign aristocracy. For a time William succeeded in restraining the rapacity ot'his followers, but he soon found himself obliged to yield to their incessant demands, and to rob the people for the gratification of their tyraimical superiors. At Peven- sey, for instance, beginning with tiie first corner of land on which the foreigner set foot, the Norman soldiers shared amongst them the houses of the vanquished. The city of Dover, half-consumed by fire, was given to the bishop of Bayeux, who distributed the houses among his followers. Raoul de Courbespine received tliree of them, together with a poor woman's field ; Guillaume, son of Geofi^'rey, had also tliree, to- gether with the old town-!iouse ; one rich Englishman put himself un- der the protection of Norman Gualtier, who received him as a tributary, and another became a serf-de-corps on the soil of his own field. In the province of Suffolk, a Norman chief appropriated to himself the lands of a Saxon woman named Edith the Fair, perhaps the same ' swan- necked Edith ' who had been mistress to Harold. The city of Norwich was I'eserved entire as the Conqueror's private domain ; it had paid to the Saxon kings a tax of 30 livres 20 sols, but William exacted from it an annual contribution of 70 livres, a valuable horse, 100 livres for Jiis queen, and 20 livres for the governor. A female juggler, named Ade- line, figures on the partition rolls as having received fee and salary from Roger, one of the Norman counts. Three Saxon warriors associated together as brethren-in-arms, possessed a manor near St Alban's, which they had received from the abbot of that establishment, on condition of their defending it by the sword if necessary. They faithfully discharged their engagements, only abandoning their domain when overpowered by numbers, and returning again after a short space to assail, at the ex- pense of their lives, the Norman knight who had settled himself down on their pi'operty. After the siege of Nottingham, Guillaume Peverel re- ceived, as his share of the conquest, fifty-five manors in the neighbour- hood of the town, and the houses of forty-eight English tradesmen, twelve warriors, and eight husbandmen. A large tract of land at the eastern point of Yorkshire was given to Dreux Bruere, a captain of Flemish auxiliaries. This man was married to a relative of the Con- queror's, whom he killed in a fit of anger ; but before the report of her death had got abroad, he hastened to the king, and begged that he would give him money in exchange for his lands as he wished to return into Flanders. William unsuspectingly ordered tiie sum which the Fleming asked to be paid to him, and it was not until after his departure that the real cause of it was discovered. Euder de Champagne had married the Conqueror's sister by the mother's side. On the birth of a son, he remarked to the kiiig that his possession, the isle of Holderness was not fertile, producing nothing but oats, and begged that he would grant him a portion of land capable of bearing wheat wherewith the child might be fed. William heard the request with due patience, and gave him the entire town of Bytham in the province of Lincoln. From the time that William's footing in England became sure, not young soldiers alone, but whole families of men, women, and children, emigra- ted from Gaul to seek their fortunes in the country of the English. Geoffrey de Chaumont gave to his niece Denis all the lands which he possessed in the country of Blois, and then departed to push new Teuioi).] WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR. 179 rortiincj* for liiiiisclf in Ei)ghvii(J. "Ho afUnvanIs returned to Cliau- iiiuiit," says tlie historian, " witli an ininiun-se tnasurc, large sum!? of money, a groat number ofarticlos of rarity, and tho titles of possessions of more than one groat ami rieh ilomain." William gave the county of ChestortoIIughd'Avranohc,surnamotlLe Loup, who built a fort at Rliud- dlan, whore he ibught a murderous battle with the Welsh, tiie memory of which is still preserved in a mournful Welsh air called Morla-llliuddlan. Le Loup invited over from Normandy one of his old friends named Nigel, or Lenoir. Lenoir brought with him five brothers to share his fortunes. He received for himself the town of Halton near the river Mersey, and was made Le Loup's constable and hereditary marshal, that is, wherever the count of Chester might war, Lenoir and his heirs were bound to march at the head of the whole army in going forth to battle, and to be the last in returning. They had, as their share of the booty, taken from the Welsh in plundering expeditions, the cattle of all kinds. Their servants enjoj^od the privilege of buying in the market at Chester before any one else, except the count's servants. They had the control of the roads and streets during fairs, the tolls of all markets within the limits of Halton, and entire freedom from tax and toll, ex- cepting on salt and horses. Hondard, the first of the five brothers, became to Lenoir nearly what Lenoir was to Count Hugh, aiid received for his services the lands of W^eston and Ashton. He had also all the bulls taken from the Welsh, and the best ox as a recompense for the man-at-arms who carried his banner. The other brothers received domains from the constable ; and the fifth, who was a priest, obtained the church of Runcone. These transactions,-^all the sharing of possessions and oftices which took place in the province of Chester between the Norman governor, his first lieutenant, and the lieutenant's five compa- nions, — give a true and faithfld idea, says Thierry, of numerous transac- tions of the same kind which w ere taking place at the same time in every province of England.'^ It « as thus that " the herdsmen of Normandy, and the weavers of Flanders, with a little courage and good fortune, soon became in England men of consequence, — illustrious barons ; that the man who had crossed the sea with the quilted cassock, and black wooden bow of the foot-soldier, now^ appeared to the astonished eyes of the new recruits who had come after him, mounted on a war-horse, and invested with the military baldrick." Would you know, says an old roll in the French language, w hat are the names of the great men w ho came over the sea with the Conqueror, — with Guillaume Batard a la grande viguer ? Here are their surnames as we find them written, but without their Christian names being prefixed, for they are often wanting, and often changed. They are Mandeville and Dandeville, Aufreville and Donifreville, Bouteville and Estouteville, Mohun and Bohun, Bisset and Basset, Malin and Malvoisin. The crowd of names that follow ap- pear in the same arrangement of rude versification, so as to assist the memory by the rhyme and alliteration. Several lists of the same kind, and disposed with the same art, have come down to the present day, having been found inscribed on large sheets of vellum in the archives of the churches, and decorated with the title of ' Livre dos Conquerans.' In one of these lists the surnames are seen ranged in groupes of three, '* NoniKUi Coini. vul. i, p. 417. ISO POLITICAL SERIES. [Second thus : Bastard, Brassard, Baynard ; Bigot, Bagot, Talbot ; Toret, Trivet, Bouet ; Lucy, Lacy, Percy. Another catalogue of the conquerors of England, kept for a long time in the treasury of Battle- Abbey, contained names of singularly low and fantastic formation, such as Bonvilain and Bontevilain, Trousselot and Troussebout, L'Engayne and Longue-apee, Ceil-de-Boeuf and Front-de-Boeuf. Several authentic acts designate as Norman knights in England one Guillaume le charretier, one Ungues le tailleur, one Guillaume le tambour; and among the surnames of this knighthood, gathered together from every corner of Gaul, we find a great number of names belonging simply to towns and provinces : as St Quentin, St Maur, St Denis, St Malo, Tournay, Verdun, Nismes, Chalons, Etampes, Poclefort, La Rochelle, Cahors, Champagne, Gas- cogne. Such were the men who brought into England the titles of Noblemen and Gentlemen, and by force of arms established them for themselves and their descendants.""' To resume our historical outline: In 1075, William, now undisputed sovereign of England, led an English army into Normandy to support his interest in the province of Maine. During his absence a conspiracy was formed against him among his own Norman barons. The plot failed ; and Waltheof being found guilty of misprision of treason, was condemned and executed. The death of this popular Anglo-Saxon noble, excited a deep sensation among his countrymen, who revered his memory as that of a martyr, and secretly swore to revenge his fall. The remaining years of William's life were spent amid continual tumult and distraction. His half-brother Odo, openly aspiring to the papal dignity, threatened to compromise him with a formidable foe ; the scheme was defeated by William's activity and resolution, and Odo remained in close confinement during the remainder of William's reign. Canute of Denmark next renewed his project of invading England, and had col- lected a fleet of one thousand vessels for this purpose at Haithably, but William avei'ted the storm from this quarter by secret negotiations with the Danish chiefs.^' This danger had scarcely subsided when his own son Robert levied war upon his father, for refusing to invest him with the duchy of Normandy, as he had promised to the French court when meditating the invasion of England. William quickly drove his son out of the field, and the interference of the nobles and clergy, aided by the tears and entreaties of Queen Matilda, procured a termination to this unnatural struggle. William was now getting overgrown and infirm, but a clumsy jest of a brother-monarch sufficed to awake his martial spirit, and plunge hira into a formidable war. The physicians had advised him to submit to a tedious course of medicine, with the view of reducing his enormous corpulency. Philip of France, in allusion to this circumstance, said to some of his courtiers that the king of England was lying in at Rouen. This idle sarcasm was reported to William, who burst into a paroxysn^ of rage, and swore a mighty oath, that at his churching he M'ould light up a hundred thousand candles in France.^** In the following harvest, lie hastened to perform the terrible vow ; summoning his trooj>s, he en- 's Ibid. p. 334 — 336. Tliu two words marked in italics in the text aie purely of Nitrman extraction, and have no syiumyme in the old Enirlish language. " Chron. Sax. 1S7. — Saxo. 217. * It ester, would have made a more fitting epitaph than any which were ottered. They run thus : There was in kyiig William's days warre and sorrowe ej now, So tliat niuclidel of Engelnod thoghte his lyf too long. Of all the Anglo-Saxon warriors who distinguished themselves by their determined opposition to the Normans, Hereward le Wake was the most celebrated and most successful. His memory was long dear to the people of England, who handed down the fame of his exploits from generation to generation in their traditionary songs. His father, the lord of Born in Lincolnshire, unable to restrain the turbulent tem- per which he manifested eA'en in early youth, had procured an order tor his banishment from Edward the Confessor. The youth submitted to the royal mandate, backed as it was by paternal authority ; and soon earned in foreign lands the praise of a fearless and irresistible warrior. He was in Flanders at the period of the conquest ; but no sooner did he hear that his father was dead, and that his paternal lands had been given to a foreigner, than he returned in haste to his native country, and, having procured the gift of knighthood from his uncle Brand, abbot of Peterborough — without which he was not entitled, according to the usages of the time, to command others — collected the vassals of his famil}', and drove the Norman who had insulted his mother, and usurped her inheritance, from his ancestral possessions.' The fame of his exploit drew fresh adherents to his standard, and Hereward soon found himself at the head of a band of followers whose valour and hardiment, aid^l by the natural fastnesses of his retreat in the Isle of Ely, enabled hiui to set at defiance the whole power of the Conqueror. The Saxon abbot of Peterborough died before the close of the year 1069, and thus escaped the chastisement which his blessing the sword of an enemy to the Normans M'ould probably have drawn upon him. William gave the vacant abbey to Turauld, a foreign monk, who had already rendered himself famous b}' his militaiy propensities, and was probably thought a fit neighbour for Hereward. Turauld, nothing daunted by the prospect before him, set out with a guard of one hundred and sixty French horsemen to take possession of his new benefice, and had already reached Stamford, when the indefatigable Hereward ap- peared at the gates of the golden city, as Peterborough was then called, and finding the monks little resolved to defend it against the new abbot and his men-at-arms, set fire to the town, carried off all the treasures of ilje monastery, and gave it also to the flames. Turauld, the bettor lo 1 i.io'iir. 70. protect himself against such a daring foe, devoted sixty-two hydes of land on tlie domains of his abbey to the support of a body of military retainei-s. With the assistance of Ive Taillebois, the Norman com- mander of the district, he undertook a military expedition against Here- ward ; but the expedition terminated most disastrously for the militant churchman ; for whilst Taillebois went into the forest which formed the defence of the Saxons on one side, Hercward went out on the other, and surprising the abbot and his party, who lingered in the rear afraid to expose themselves to the chances of war, he made them all prisoners, and kept them in the fens which surrounded his retreat, until they had purchased their ransom with a sum of 3000 marks.* Meanwhile the Danish fleet again arrived at the isle of Ely, and were welcomed by the refugees as friends and liberators. Morcar, also, and most of the exiles from Scotland, joined the party of Hereward. Pru- dence now compelled William to pursue energetic measures against the man whom he had at first affected to despise. He purchased the retreat of the Danes with gold, and then invested the camp of the refugees on all sides with his fleet and army. To facilitate their movements, he also constructed bridges and solid roads across the marshes. But Hereward and his companions, by incessant irruptions on all sides, so impeded the labour of the besiegers, that the conqueror of England despaired of being able to subdue this little handful of men : and at last listened to the sage recommendation of Taillebois, who, attributing the success of the Saxons to the assistance of Satan, advised the king to employ a sorceress who, by the superior eflicacy of her spells, might defeat those of the English magicians. The sorceress was procured, and placed m great state in a lofty wooden tower, from which she could overlook the operations of the soldiers and labourers. But Hereward seizing a fa- \ourable opportunity, set fire to the dry reeds in the neighbourhood : tii8 wind spread the conflagration, and enveloped the enchantress and her guards in a circle of smoke and tire which destroyed them all.* This was not the only success of the insurgents. Notwithstanding the im- mense superiority of the king's forces, Hereward's incessant activity baffled his every effort for many months, and would have kept the whole Norman power at bay for a longer period, had not treachery seconded the efforts of the assailants. There was in the isle of Ely a convent of monks, who, unable longer to endure the miseries of famine, sent to William's camp, and offered to point out to him a path by which he might cross the morass \vhich protected the camp of the insurgents, pro- vided he would guarantee to them the possession of their property. The offer was accepted, and the Norman troops, guided by the treacherous monks, penetrated unexpectedly into Hereward's camp, where they killed a thousand of the English, and compelled the rest to lay down their arms. All surrendered except Hereward and a small band of determined followers, who cut their way through their assailants into the lowlands of Lincoln. Here some Saxon fishermen, who carried their fish for sale every day to a Norman garrison in the neighbouihood, received their fugitive countrymen into their boats, axid hid them mider heaps of straw. The boats approached the Norman station ai usual. aiid the garrison knowing the fisiu'rmen by sight, njade their purokube » l*elri BKsMrisis ("on inuiilio IiiRulfi, 125. " li-'id- of iisli without suspicion, and quietly sat down to their meal. But while tftus engaged, Hereward and his followers rising up from their conceal- ment, rushed upon them with their battle-axes, and massacred nearly all of them. This coup-de-main was not the last exploit of the English guerilla captain ; wherever he went, he avenged the fate of his countr^^- men by similar deeds, until at last, says Ingulphus, " after great battles, and a thousand dangers frequently braved and nobly terminated, as well against the king of England, as against his earls, barons, prefects, and presidents, which are yet sung in our streets, — and after having fully avenged his mother's wrongs with his own powerful right hand, — -he obtained the king's pardon, and his paternal iniieritance, and so ended his days in peace, and was very lately buried with his wife nigh to our monastery." A different fate awaited his companions who were captured in the camp of Ely. Some were allowed to ransom themselves ; others suffered death ; and others were set at large after having been cruelly maimed and mutilated. Stigand was condemned to perpetual imprisonment. Egelwin, bishop of Durham, was confined at Abingdon, where, a few months afterwards, he died either of hunger voluntarily induced, or in consequence of forced privation. The treachery of the monks of Ely received its reN\ ard. Forty men-at-arms occupied their convent as a military post, and lived in it at their expense. The monks offered a sum of 700 marks to be relieved of the charge of maintaining such o body of soldiers ; their offer was accepted, but on weighing the silver, a single drachm was found to be wanting, and the circumstance was made a pretext for extolling 300 marks more ft-om them. Finally, royal commissioners were sent, who took away from the convent what- ever valuables remained, and divided the abbey-lands into militaiy fiefs. The monks made bitter protestations against this treatment, which no one regarded. They invoked pity on their convent, — once, said they, the fairest among the daughters of Zion, now captive and suffering, — but not a tear of sympathy was shed for them, nor a single hand raised in their cause. OTilliam MutiiQ. CROWMiD A. D. 10S7. DIED A. U. i 100. The Conqueror left three sons by his queen Matilda. Robert, the eldest of these, was acknowledged tluke of Normandy immediately on his father's death, and satisfied with the acquisition of the ducal coronet, allowed his second brother, William, surnamed Rufus, from the colour of his hair, to claim the English crown, in virtue of his father's nomina- tion in his favour wlien on his death-bed. His cause was warmly espoused by Archbishop Lanfranc who had been his preceptor in his youth, and while the barons of Normandy were yet deliberating on the succession, Rufus was crowned at Westminster by that prelate, assisted by the archbishop of York and many of the chief nobility. The third and re- maining son of the Conqueror was named Henry. He had received only a portion of five thousand pounds from his father, which did not satisfy his ambition, but necessity compelled him to submit at least i'nr Peuiod.] WILLIAM RIHTUS. 185 tlio prcsi'iit to tlio arranij^ciinMit. William had pruilicted tliat his li.ilf- brotliLT Olio woLilil prov(> a tiirlmlciit subji^ct to his successor. Tlie prediction was soon veriHcd. Otlo was a man of considerable talents and great energy; the stormy arena of politics suited him better than the retiring and pacilic habits of the cloister. Jealous of foreign in- Huencc, and particularly d(>testing Lanfranc, he formed a plan for de- throning William of England, and elevating his brother of Normandy, whose ear he possessed, to the English throne. Robert received their proposals with favour, and the conspirators departed to raise the stand- ard of rebellion in their respective baronies in that kingdom, — Odo in Kent, William bishop of Durham in Northumberland, Geofiry of Cou- tHnces in Somerset, Roger Montgomery in Shropshire, Hugh Bigod in Norfolk, and Hugh do Grentuuisnil in the county of Leicester.' In this emergency William owed the preservation of his crown to his Eng- lish subjects, whom he succeeded by fair promises in collecting around his banner to the number of 30,000. With these, and such Norman barons as adhered to him, he took the field, and in one campaign en tirely suppressed his enemies. Odo, himself, was taken at Rochester, and with difficulty escaped death from the hands of the enraged English. By the suppression of this rebellion, Rufus was firmly established on the throne of England, and enabled to carry his arms into Normandy; but in the hour of his prosperity he forgot the promises which he had made to his English subjects, and renewed some of his most oppressive exactions. The interference of the Norman barons and French monarch effected a reconciliation betwixt the two bi-others. A pacification was entered into, which provided that on the death of either, the sur- vivor should inherit his dominions ; that the king of England should, in the meantime, retain possession of the fortresses which he had acquired in Normandy, but indemnify his brother by an equivalent in England; and that the late attainders of Robert's partisans in tliat country should be reversed. The principal sufferers by this treaty were Edgar the etheling, and Prince Henry, the Conqueror's youngest son. Willianj's Saxon subjects also looked upon it as a violation of the promises which he had given them when soliciting their aid against Robert's partisans, and the flame of resistance burst forth with new fury in every place where Saxons, united in a body, and not reduced to tlie last degree of slavery, were placed under Norman chiefs or governors. These chiefs, whether clergy or laity, were animated by one spirit, and differed in their habiliments alone. Alike under the coat of mail and the priestly cape, there was ever the same foreign conqueror, harsh, proud, avari- cious, who regarded the natives of England only as so many beasts of burden, and exacted from them the meanest services without scruple or remorse. Jean de la Ville, bishop of Wells, formerly a physician at Tours, pulled down the houses of the canons of his church, to build himself a palace of the materials. Rtmouf Flambard, bishop of Lin- coln, once a footman in the service of the duke of Normandy, plundered the inhabitants of his diocese to such an extent that, says an old histo- rian, they coveted death rather than to live under his authority. The Norman bishops marched to the altar like counts to their military re- views, fenced round with lances: and passed day after day in gambling ' Chron. Sax. 193.— Old. Vital C65. ^ Chrim. Sax. 197.— Al. lJt;v. 138. — Flo.. Uifi. 664. 186 POLITICAL SERIES. fSECo-vn hunting, and drinking. One .of them, in a fit of gaiety, had a repast served up to a body of Saxon monks, in the great hall of their convent, in which he compelled them to eat of dishes forbidden to their order, served up by women half-naked and with dishevelled hair. By such means were the very churches, where, if any where, Saxon and Norman should have met in peace, converted into scenes of strife and often of bloodshed. The king's officers, of course, pillaged without bounds ; they plundered alike, and without mercy, the farmer's granary, and the tradesman's warehouse. At Oxford, Robert d'Oily spared neither rich nor poor. In the north, Odencan d'Umfreville seized the effects of all the English in his neighbourhood who refused to carry and hew stone for the building of his castle. In London also, the king forcibly raised bodies of men to build a new wall round the Conqueror's tower, a bridge over the Thames, and a palace or court of audience for the assembly of chiefs.^ " The provinces to whose share these labours fell," says the contemporary Saxon chronicle, " were grievously tormented. Each passing year was heavy and sorrowful, on account of the number- less vexations and multiplied contributions." Wherever the royal train journeyed, the country was laid waste as by the march of an enemy's army. At the first rumour of the king's approach every one would fly from his dwelling, and hasten with whatever he could take with him into the depths of the forests and desert places.* It would appear that William contrived to elude the execution of such parts of his treaty with Robert as were disagreeable to himself. It is certain that Robert in vain demanded his promised indemnity. The breach of contract led to a renewal of hostilities, in which William gained neither honour nor advantage. At last a favourable opportunity presented itself for the gratification of William's ambition. It was the era of the crusades, and Robert of Normandy catching the general en- thusiasm, I'esolved to join the confederate princes in their expedition against the infidels. But his means were unequal to what were required for his outfit: and as his only resource, he made ofi'er to his brother of the government of his dominions for three, or, according to others, five years, for an instant payment of 10,000 marks.^ William joyfully ac- cepted the proposal; the money was extorted from his English subjects, and transmitted to Normandy; and, in 1096, Robert sailed for the Holy Land, and William for Normandy. By the Normans he was re- ceived without opposition, with the exception of one solitary instance in the person of Helie de la Fleche, who for a time defended the province of Maine against him. The death of Archbishop Lanfranc was a serious loss to William. He was a prudent counsellor, and possessed great influence over the king's mind; but the details of his history, and of his successor Anselm, belong to another section. After the retirement of th'e latter prelate to Rome, William persevered in the same rapacious and voluptuous career till he was suddenly arrested by death, in the New Forest, wliile grati- fying his boundless passion for the chase. William's forest-laws had long been felt as an intolerable burden both upon serfs and nobles The rigorous manner in which he never failed to punish the slightest transgression of the laws of the chase, had so intimidated the natives. » Thenv's Noi-n. C.mq. Vol. II. p. 19-1-200. ♦ E;i(!incn Hisi. P4. Oril. Vilai. ti93.— Ciinai. Sax. IftS Period.] WILLIAM RUFUS. 187 that they began to circulate fearful stories about the forests, which no man of English race, they aHirnied, could enter with arms but ai the peril of his life. It was said that the devil oHen appearcid in honible. shapes to William and his Normans, while pursuing their favourite pastime in these wililernesses, and spoke aloud to them of the dreadful fate which was in reserve for them in a future world. A superstition so much in harmony with the popular feelings was strengthened by the singular chance which made hunting in the New Forest so fatal to the race of the Conqueror. In the year 1081, Richard, eldest son of the first William, had there received a mortal wound; and in May, 1100, Richard, son of Duke Robert, and nephew to the Red King, Mas killed by an arrow inadvertently discharged at him. The same forest was again to be the scene of a similar and still more remarkable calam- ity to the family of the Conqueror. On the morning of the fatal day, the king gave his friends a sumptuous repast in Winchester castle, after which he prepared for the projected hunt. While tying on his hose, and jesting w itli his guests, a workman presented to him six new arrows: he examined them, praised the workmanship, laid aside four of them foi himself, and gave the other two to Walter Tyrrel, saying, " a good marksman should have good ari'ows." Walter Tyrrel was a Frenchman who had extensive possessions in Ponthieu; he was also the king's familiar friend and assiduous attendant. At the moment of dejoarture for the forest, a monk from St Peter's convent at Gloucester entered, and put in William's hands despatches from his abbot. The abbot had had in his sleep a vision of ill omen, portending misfortune to the king; and he deemed the matter of sufficient importance to make it the subject of a special communication to his sovereign. On learning the tenor of the abbot's despatch, the king laughed aloud, and calling "to horse!" hastened into the forest, accompanied bj' his brotlier Henrj^, Walter Tyrrel, and several other chiefs. Here the rest of the party dispersed in different directions, but Tyrrel remained in company with the king, and their dogs hunted together. As the sun was about to set, and they had taken their station opposite to each other, each with his arrow on the cross-bow, and his finger on the trigger, a deer tracked by the hounds, passed before the king; William drew, but his bow-string breaking, the arrow did not fly, and the deer, startled by the sound, stood looking about on all sides; the king raised his head to screen hia eyes from the horizontal rays of the departing sun, and observing the ani- mal still near him, impatiently called aloud to his comj)anion to discharge his arrow;'' the order was obeyed, but Tyn-el's bolt glancing on a tree, took an oblique direction, and buried itself in the king's heart. He fell without uttering a word, and expired. Tyrrel hastened to him, but finding him already dead, he became alarmed for his own safety, and mounting his stead, gallopped straight to the coast and crossed over to Normandy.'' Such is the generally received version of this tragical accident; yet it is by no means a clearly ascertained point that it was by Tyrrell's arrow the king died. John of Salisbury says, that when he " Kiiyghion professes to cive the express words of the king's «xclain;i:i(iii : ' Trahe, tralie areuiu, ex parte Dialwli !' p. 2^i73. ' Oal. Vilal. 7S1. 188 POLITICAL SERIES. [Seconu wrote, it was, as doubtful by whom William was killed, as it was by whom .lulian the apostate fell.* CROWNED A. D. 1100 DIED A. D. 1133- Henry, surnamed for his learning Beauclerc, the Conqueror s young- est son, was pursuing his game in a distant part of the New Forest when tidings were brought him of the death of his brother. He instantly put spurs to his horse, and rode precipitately to Winchester, to seize the unsquandered part of the late king's treasury, before other claimants appeared. According to the compact between Robert and William, the succession had now devolved to the former, who was also known to be on his return to Europe from the Holy Land; but Henry made no question of right when a crown was within his grasp. While the keepers of the royal treasury were yet hesitating to comply with his imperious demand for delivery of the keys, William de Breteuil, who had been of the hunting-party that day, and to whose care the treasury was confided, arrived in breathless haste, to secure his charge for the rightful heir. " Both you and I," said he to Henry, " should loyally bear in mind the faith we have pledged to your brother, Robert. He has received our homage ; and present, or absent, he has a right to it." A violent altercation ensued, in the midst of which Henry drew his sword, and declared that he would make good his claim by it; but mu- tual friends interfering, Breteuil was prevailed on to withdraw his oppo- sition, and Henry employed the money thus obtained so successfully that he was crowned at Westminster two days after.' His coronation-oath was the same that had been taken by the Anglo-Saxon kings; and he took care to remind his English subjects that he was an Englishman by birth, and born after the conquest. On the following day, he issued a proclamation, or charter of liljerties, restoring the church to its ancient inmiunities, promising to exercise his feudal prerogatives with modera- tion, and requiring his barons to do the same by their vassals, and pledg- ing himself to put in force the laws of Edward the Confessor as restored and amended by his father. He also recalled Anselm, and drove from his court the more licentious barons'- whose effeminacy and debauch- eries had long scandalized the graver part of the public. At the solicitation of his prelates he consented to marry Matilda, or Maud, the beautiful orphan daughter of Malcolm king of Scotland, by Edgar's sister, and therefore " of the right kingly kin of England." The lady is represented as having been at first indifferent to the match, and highly averse to leave the tutelage of her aunt Christina, abbess of Wilton, to whose care she had been intrusted in childhood; but her » See on this point Turner's Hist, of Engl, vol I. p 129. There arc <-iixumsianres in the case which favour the iilca of a meih'latod assassination, but llie insinuation is no- wiiere maile in any of tlie liistorii-al audioi iiies. ' Old. Vital. 782. * The efflvmlnati of our larly writers, who affwiecl to dress tliemscl-.es like women. They wiire tunics with ilcci> sleeves, and mantles with lung trains. I he peaks of theil shoes were twisied into lanlaslie ^ha|K s; and tiiey wure tlieir hair divided in JVonl and Calling in ringlets down ihe hack. Malm. 88. — Ordeiie, 6S2. Pkriod.J henry I. 189 relativos so bosct lior, says INT;itlIuw Pans, tliat she at last foniplied with thoir wislies solely to rid herself of tiicir incessant importunities. Ti»e arguments with which they .assailed the maiden might not indeed be the most irresistible that could be urged with a woman's heart, but they were weighty and reasonable notwithstanding. Matthew of Paris gives the substance of tluim in a very adroit manner: "Oh most noble and most beautiful of women, if thou wouldst, thou couldst raise up from its nothingness the ancient honour of England ; thou wouldst be a sign of alliance, a pledge of reconciliation. But if thou persist in thy refusal, know that the enmity betwixt Saxon and Norman nmst prove eternal, and human blood will never cease to flow." It is certain that the match proved highly grateful to Henry's English sul^jccts, and met with opposition only from a party amongst the Normans, who were in- dignant that a Saxon woman should become their queen, and set them- selves to devise many ingenious objections to the marriage. Amongst other things, they contended that the princess having worn the veil at Wilton, was no longer at liberty to marry; and the objection at the first statement so startled the good Anselm, that he declared nothing should induce him to ravish from God her who was his spouse, and give her to a carnal husband.^ But Matilda, on being questioned as to the fact, denied that she had ever worn tlie veil of her own accord, but only as a protection from the licentiousness of the Norman soldiers; and a synod of prelates over-ruled the objection in these terms: "We think the young woman is free, and may dispose of her person. Our author- ity being the judgment given in a like cause by the venerable Lanfranc, when the Saxon women, who had taken refuge in the monasteries through fear of the soldiers of the great William, claimed their liberty."'* The decision removed Anselra's scruples, and a few days afterwards he solemnized the nuptials, and at the same time consecrated and crowned the queen. While these things were taking place in England, Robert was linger- ing in Italy, fascinated !)y the charms of Sibylla, daughter of Godfrey, count of Brindisi. Nor was it until he had gained the hand of this lady, that he remembered that duties of a sterner kind demanded his imme- diate presence in Normandy. Even after his arrival in his duchy he postponed the enforcement of his claim to the English crown, and launched forth into a giddy round of extravagant feastings and frivolous pageantry, more betitting some voluptuous sybarite, than tlie bold and resistless crusader. At last the remonstrances of Flambard bishop of Durham, the obnoxious minister of his late brother, succeeded in firing his ambition, and determined him to invade England. Henry had committed Flambard to the tower, whence he had made his escape iuto Normandy, vhere he soon became as great a favourite with Robert as he had been with William, and probably by the same mean artifices. Henry beheld with disquietude the preparations of his brother, but cast himself-— as William had done in similar circumstances — on the fidelity of his English subjects. On the 19th of Juljs 1101, Robert landed at Portsmouth, and his ranks were soon swelled by a number of the chiefe aiul rich men of England ; but the bishops, the private sokliers, and the Eugli.^li by birth adhered generally to the side of Henry. Thr " Kadintrj Hist. fiT. * IbiJ- 190 POLITICAL SERIES. , [Seconp nvo armies remained in sight of each other for several days without coming to action, and Ansehn improved the opportunity thus afforded for mediating between the parties. A negotiation was set on foot, and the two princes having met in a vacant space between the armies, and embraced as friends, terms of reconciliation were soon adjusted. Robert renounced all claim to the crown of England, and obtained in return a yearly payment of 3000 marks from Henry, the cession of all castles which he possessed in Normandy, with the exception of Dam- fronth, and the revocation of the judgments of forfeiture which William had pronounced against his adherents. It was also stipulated that, if either died without legitimate issue, the survivor should be his heir.^ The facility of Robeit's temper was fully exhibited two years after- wards, when he made a present to Henry's queen of the stipulated pay- ment from England, notwithstanding the embarrassment in which his profusion and heedlessness were involving him. This was not the first act of courtesy and kindness that Henry had experienced from his generous brother ; but gratitude and paternal aifection were alike strangers to Henry's bosom. While Robert's profuse and liberal habits exhausted his treasury, and compelled him to have recourse to measures which involved him in disputes with his barons, Henry marked, and secretly fomented the growing discord, and at last lifting off the mask, declared himself protector of Normandy, on the first invitation from the duke's enemies.^ The brothers met in battle at Tinchebrai, on the 28th of September, 1106. The conflict was bloody and long-sustained by Robert's heroism, but his troops at last yielded to superior numbers, and the duke with four hundred knights, and 10,000 common soldiers, fell into the hands of the conqueror. This victory determined the fate of Normandy. Henry carried his brother to England, where he died in 1134, after a confinement of twenty-eight years, in the castle ol Cardiff, Glamorganshire. Matthew of Westminster, and Matthew of Paris, both affirm that he had his eyes put out by command of his unna- tural brother ; but William of Malmesbury, who was alive at the period of Robert's death, declares that Robert was treated with the utmost lenity, and suffered no evil but that of solitude, during his long captivity.' Let us hope for the honour of human nature it was so. Among the prisoners taken at Tinchebrai and sent to England, wa^ the etheling Edgar. He had quitted England for ever, and fixed his abode in Normandy, at the court of the duke, to whose fortunes he be- came zealously attached, even accompanying him, it is said, to Palestine with twenty thousand men who had assembled under his standard from all parts of Britain. The Saxon chronicle represents him as having joined Robert but shortly before the battle which decided both their fates. He, the rightful king of England, dispossessed by the conquest, was now brought back the prisoner of a Norman, to close his days in cap- tivity, on that soil which might once have owned him as its prince. His conqueror, the husband of his niece, granted him another pardon, and a small pension on which he lived in a remote part of the counti"y, where he soon sunk into such obscurity, that the time and circumstances of his death are not preserved in history. Such was the end of the last », Ibid. 58.— Ore! Vital. 788. " Cliroii. Sax. 212.-Orf!. Viiid 8!4. ' See Tuiiiei's Hist, of F^ligl. vol. I. p. J.S7. Pnuon.] nENEY I. 191 king of England on whom that title was bestowed by the uiiawfd rlioice of the Anglo-Saxon nation. lloI)irt had a son, named William, a child of five years of age when brought before Henry after the defeat and captivity of his father. The ehild was intrusted, by command of Henry, to the care of Elie de Saen, a Norman baron, who had been his father's friend. But the king soon became apprehensive, lest, in the person of the young prince, he might at some future period encounter a formidable rival, and a trusty officer was despatched to the castle of Saen with orders to reclaim the cliild. The messenger arrived in Elie's absence, but friendly hands suspecting the nature of the commission on which he came, carried off the sleeping child before the royal officer reached his apartment, and hast(>ned with him into the French territory. Louis, surnamed Le Gros, who had by this time discovered how much more dangerous a neighbour Henry was likely to prove than his brother, received the riglitful heir of Normandy with pleasure, and vowed to grant him the investiture of his paternal dominions when he should be of age to rule them. In the name of the young duke, he entei-ed into a league with the Flemings and An- jouans, and attacked Henry at every point of his Norman frontier. Meanwhile, the youth grew up into manhood, and became distinguished by his valour and accomplishments ; his partisans encreased with his rising fame, and Henry began to tremble at the gathering storm which soon threatened to burst upon his head. By accident, Heniy and Louis met in the vicinit}' of Brenneville. Henry had with him fi\ e hundred knights, Louis four hundred. A severe conflict ensued, which ended in the total defeat of the French knights, and the flight of Louis. William of Normandy also 'was in the battle, and only saved himself by flight. An end was at last put to these wasting hostilities, by the inter- ference of Pope Calixtus H. Under the treaty negotiated by this pon- tiff, Heniy retained the possession of Normandy, and the king of France, as sovereign lord, consented to receive the homage of William, Henry's son, in lieu of that of the father.^ Peace being thus restored, and the ambition of Henry fully gratified, he prepared once more to cross the channel, with his son William, and a number of the young Norman nobility. The fleet destined for this purpose assembled, in the month of December, 1120, in the port of Harfleur ; but, before it weighed anchor, a Norman mariner, called Fitz-Stephen, presented himself to the king, and offering him a mark of gold, addressed him thus : " Etienne, son of Herard, my father, all his life followed thy father on the sea. He steered the vessel in which thy father went to the conquest of England. I ask of thee, that thou wouldst confer on me the like honour. I have a ship in readiness, and suitably fitted up, called La Blanche Nef, which is at thy service." The king replied, that he had already selected a vessel for himself, but that in consideration of the request of a son of Etienne, he would eon- fide his son and his treasures to his safe conduct. The vessel which carried the king set sail first, with a south wind, and reached the Eng- lish coast in safety. But the young prince spent some hours on deck in feasting and dancing with his gay and thoughtless companions, before he permitted the anchor of the Blanche Nef to be weighed. The • Orel. Vital. 8ri6.— Tlic grandmother of Calixuis was Alicu, daiishler uf Ilicliun! fl. duke uf NorniuaUy. vessel was manned by fifty skilful rowers ; the son of Etienne was at the helm ; anil they held then- course rapidly under a clear moon, along tlie coast in the vicinity of Harfleur, before reaching the open sea. The rowers, stimulated by wine, pulled hard to overtake the king's ship ; but, too eager to accomplish this, they incautiously entangled themselves among some rocks under water, — the helmsman's hand proved untrue, — and, amid the shouts and merriment of her disorderly company, the Blanche-Nef struck against a rock with all the velocity of her course, and instantly began to fill. The prince was immediately lowered into a boat, and told to row himself back to land ; but the shrieks of his sister, Adela, recalled him to the wreck, and the small boat was swamped by the numbers which precipitated themselves into it. Soon after, the ship itself went down, and all on board, to the number of three hundred persons, among whom were eighteen noble ladies, and one hundred and forty young Norman nobility, were buried in the waves. The despair- ing cry of the wretched sufferers was heard from the other vessels, already far at sea, but no one dared to suspect the cause. Two men alone saved themselves by clinging to the great yard, -which was left floating on the water. The master of the ship, after sinking once, rose to the surface of the water, and swimming towards them, called out, " The prince I what has become of him ?" " We have seen no more of him, nor of his brother, nor of his sister, nor of their companions," was the answer. " Woe is me I" then exclaimed the unfortunate mariner, and voluntarily sunk beneath the waves. The night was extremely cold, and the weakest of the two survivors, benumbed and worn out by his efforts, lost his grasp of the spar, and sunk in the act of uttei'ing a prayer for the safety of his companion. Berauld, the humblest of the survivors, perhaps of the whole party that had sailed that day in the Blanche-Nef, wrapped in his sheep-skin doublet, continued to support himself on the surface of the water, and was picked up in the morning by a fishing- boat. The old English historians affirm that king Henry was never seen to smile after hearing of the loss of his son ; but they evidently regarded the catastrophe, so fatal to the highest Norman families, as well as to the king, as the just judgment of heaven on their tyrannical masters." The young prince, though the son of a Scottish princess, and the grand- nephew of a Saxon king, had imbibed the feelings of a Norman, and liad been heard to say, that if ever he came to reign over these misera- ble English, he would yoke them like oxen to the plough. The threat was remembered now that it was vain, and the English writers gloried over the destruction of the man who had confessed his antipathy to their countrymen. " The proud youth I" exclaims Henry of Huntingdon. *' he thought of his future reign ; but God said, ' It sliall not be so, — thou impious man, it shall not be.' And it has come to pass, that his brow, instead of being encircled by a ci'own of gold, has been dashed against the rocks of the ocean. 'Twas God himself who would not that the son of the Norman should again see England I" Henry's first wife, Matilda, had died in 1118. The loss of his only legitimate son brought the succession again within the grasp of his iiated nephew. To defeat the hopes of that prince, Henry offered hia hajid to Adelais, the daughter of Geoffrey, duke of Louvain, and iiicL-e » Cliruii. Sa-x. 2:22. — Hunting, aiuui Aug!. S-ic. luiu. II. p. CipG. Pkriod.] HENKY T. 193 to Pope Cali.xtus. Tho marriage was solemnized on February, 1121; but their union ])roved without issue, and Henry fonnt-d tlie resolution of settling the crown on his daughter Maud, tin; widow of the emperor Ilem-y V. He obtained the consent of his barons to this arrangement, but they viewed with nmch dissatisfaction her subsecjuent marriage to Geoffrey Plantagenet,'" eldest son to the earl of Anjou. The death of his nephew, William, who had shortly before been in vested with the county of Flanders, the greatest fi(;f of the French crown, relieved Henry of his greatest fears ; and the successive births of three grandsons, Heniy, Geoffrey, and William, promised stability to the order of succession which he sought to establish. But the impatient ambition of his son-in-law, who demanded to be put in instant posses- sion of Normandy, and the indifference, amounting almost to hatred, ivith which Geoffrey and Maud regarded each otht^r, embittered the last years of his reign, and detained him in Normandy settling family, broils. A surfeit of lampreys, of which he was very fond, though they always injured him, at last terminated his existence, on the 1st of De- cember, 1135, in the 36th year of his reign. In his dying moments he declared to his natural son, Robert, count of Gloucester, who was with Inm, that he left all his j)ossessions to his daughter." Henry was of middle stature ; his eye was mild and serene ; his chest broad and well-developed ; and his black hair clustered luxuriantly over his forehead. Although he fell a victim to his appetite, it is recorded of him, that he was usually temperate in his diet, and displeased with all appearance of excess in others ; but he was lewd in the extreme, and of a fiery ungovernable temper. He had excellent natural abilities, and had cultivated letters in his youth with much assiduity and success. The most amiable feature of his charactei-, was the strong attachment which he bore to all his children. Nothing moved him so nmch as their deaths. Yet, the most unhesitating perfidy ami relentless cruelty marked his dealings toward all who had offended him. Death, the loss of sight, or perpetual imprisonment, ^vas their usual portion. His military talents were great, and he was unquestionably one of the most profound poli- ticians of his age. He began his reign with many acts of favourable omen to his English subjects, and for a time he enjoyed and merited their confidence ; but no sooner did he feel himself securely seated in the throne, which he had at first usurped, than he thre\v away the mask, and treated them with the most marked contempt. They were carefully excluded from every office of power or emolument in church and state No virtue nor merit could advance an Englishman, while the most Blender accomplishments w^ere prized and rewarded in the person of an Italian, Frenchman, or Norman.'^ He prided himself on his inflexible administration of the fiscal laws of the kingdom ; but no one could sit as judge in one of his courts of justice, who wore not the sword and baldric, the ensigns of Norman nobility, and moreover spoke the French tongue. There even were instances in which the testimony of a man ignorant of the language of the Conqueror, was deemed incompetent evidence m a court of law. Henry's grand and exclusive aim was to ^'' That is, riante-de-yenet, or Broom plant. Geoffrey had received this name from his fondness fur hunting in die woods, and liis usually wearing a slip of broom in liUiiip. Script. Rer. Franc. Tom. xii. p. 5S1. " ."Malm. 178. " Eadm. 91, 110. I. 2 B enrich and aggrandise his family. For this he spared no degree of ex- ertion himself; for this he violated the most solemn, and oft-repeated promises ; for this he drained the very blood and sinews of his Engli:;h subjects, and crushed the spirit of a brave and faithful nation. ■BOR.V A. D. 1104 DIED A. U. Il^i. We have seen v/ith what anxiety, and by what strong measure?, Henry endeavoured to secure the succession to his only legitimate de- scendant. His precautions proved vain ; it was the age of usurpa- tions, and a usurper seized the crown on the death of Henry. This was Stephen, earl of Boulogne, the second son of Stephen, earl of Blois, by Adela the daughter of the Conqueror. The younger son of no opulent family, he had been indebted to the generosity of his uncle Henry for his first advancement in the M^orld, and marriage with the heiress of Boulogne. He had also been the first of tlie laity to swear fealty to Henry's daughter. And between him and all hereditary pre- tensions to succeed to the Conqueror, stood the empress Maud, her three sons, and his own elder brother. Yet, in spite of oaths and gra- titude, and in the face of all right and justice, he no sooner heard of his uncle's death, than he hastened i'rom Boulogne to England. The inhabitants of Dover, suspecting his intentions, shut their gates against him, and he met with a similar repulse at Canterbury. But, nothing daunted by this unsuccessful beginning, he pressed on to London, where he was received by the populace with loud acclamations. Corboil, archbishop of Canterbury, and Roger, bishop of Salisbury, and chief justiciary and regent of the kingdom, favoured his pretensions ; and, on the 22d of December, 1135, he was declared king of England by the very prelates, counts, and barons, who had so recently sworn to give the kingdom to Matilda and her children. Some of his supporters added new perjuries to their falsehood. Bryod, the royal seneschal, swore that the king, in his last moments, had disinherited his daugh- ter, and named Stephen as his successor. The bishop of Salisbury de- clared that he regarded his own oath as null, because the king had afterwards given his daughter in marriage without the consent of his prelates and barons. Others remembered that the oath had been im- posed on them by a power which they could not resist; and besides, it now appeared to them a shameful thing that so many brave men and noble warriors should be ruled over by a woman. Henry, bishop of Winchester, the usurper's brother, as papal legate, added his sanc- tion to the whole proceedings. And the pope himself completed this " disgusting scene of political perfidy," by granting letters of confir mation to the new king. " We have learned," said that holy per- sonage, in his despatch to the successful usurper, " that thou hast been elected by the common wish and unanimous consent of nobles and people, and that thou hast been anointed by the prelates of the kingdom. Considenng that the sufl'rages of so many cannot have been united in thy person, without the especial co-operation of Divine grace, and more- over that thou art kin to tiju late khig in the nearest degree, we look Period.] STEPHEN. 195 with satisfaction on all that lias been done in thy favour, and ado{)t thee, with paternal affection, as a son of the blessed apostle Peter, and of the holy Roman church."' Stephen was at tirst very popular among the Normans, among whom he freely dissipated the accumulated wealth of the three preceding reigns. Me likewise converted a large portion of the royal domains into fiefs, for the gratification of his adiierents, and substituted independent courts and governors for the royal {)rcfccts who had hitherto ruled in the king's name and for tlie profit of the king only. He bought peace from Geoffrey of Anjou, Matikla's husband, for an annual pension of 3000 marks ; and even won over the late king's natural son, Roliert of Gloucester, by similar artifices, to his party. With the conmion people, and particularly with the citizens of London, he ingratiated himself by his condescending deportment, and a certain jocular fami- liarit}' always pleasing to vulgar minds.- By means such as these, Stephen secured general popularity, and seemed for a time to be as se- curely seated on his throne as any sovereign in Europe. But the aspect of afi'airs soon changed. Several barons, not satisfied with what they had already extorted from Stephen's liberality, demanded farther concessions and larger grants ; and, when denied, proceeded to take by force of arms whatever they had set their hearts upon. Every baron fortified his castle, or built what strongholds he pleased, to maintain and extend his own robberies as well as secure himself from aggres- sion. The whole kingdom was thus transformed into one scene of outrage and plunder, and amidst the incessant conflicts of rival gangs of avowed banditti, all law and order were set at defiance. The partisans of Matilda eagerly fomented the growing strife ; and David king of Scotland, tlir(>atened an invasion in support of his niece's claims. Stephen marked the storm which was gathering around him, and prepared to meet it with firmness. " They chose n\e king, and now they abandon me I" he exclaimed. " But, by the birth of Christ I swear, they shall never call me a deposed king." In order to have an army on which he could depend, he took into his pay a number of foreign soldiers, and invited knights and adventurers from every country of Europe to settle in his dominions. He seized two bishops, and his own chancellor, and threw them into prison ; and made an unsuccessful attempt to get hold of the person of Robert, count of Gloucester. But these efforts only involved him in fresh difficulties. The arrest of the bishops aroused the church against him ; Robert eagei'ly renounced the allegiance from which the king's own act had virtually released him ; and as to the foreign mercenaries, their presence only increased the public discontent, " Every where from their castles," says the unknown writer of tlu, * Gesta Stephani,' they confederated for all mischief; and the prey they were allowed to seize did not always satisfy their insatiable rapacity." The Saxon chronicler has, in his own simple but nervous manner, drawn a forcible picture of the lamentable state of things thus produced : " In this king's time," says he, " all was dissension, and evil, and rapine. Against him soon rose rich men. They had sworn oaths, but no truth maintained, — they were all forsworn and forgetful of their oath, — they built castles which they held out against him, — ^they cruelly oppressed * Script. Iler. Franc. Tom. xvi. p. ii(.iy. — Gesta. Ueir. Supli. apucl Duchtsiic, t-'-S- ' MaliM 179 196 POLITICAL SERIES. FSeconu the wretched men of the land with castle-work, — they filled the castles with devils and evil men, — they seized those whom they sujDposed to have any goods, men, and labouring women, and threw them into prison, for their gold and silver, and inflicted on them unutterable tortures. Some they hanged up by the feet, and smoked with foul smoke, — some by the thumbs, or by the beard, and hung coats of mail on their feet, — they put them into dungeons with adders, and snakes, and toads, — many thousands they wore out with hunger. This lasted the nineteen years while Stephen was king, and it grew continually worse and worse. They burned all the towns : thou mightest go a day's journey, and not find a man sitting in a town, nor an acre of land tilled."^ Ordericus Vitalis speaks of a conspiracy formed by the English at this time for massacring or expelling all the Normans, and elevating the Scottish king to the throne of England. " In the year 1 137, on one day, and at one appointed hour," says he, " a general massacre was to take place throughout England." The plot, he adds, was discovered by Le Noir, bishop of Ely, but the principal conspirators had time to fly. Thierry has i-eceived this story on the single authority of Vitalis, and made it the groundwork of a long and ingenious comment.* But the whole affair is justly discredited by Lord Lyttelton, and succeeding historians. In 1138, the Scots invaded England, and occupied without resist- ance all the country betwixt the Tweed and the northern limit of the province of York. The Normans had not yet reared in that part of the country those imposing fortresses which they erected in it in later times, so that no obstacle opposed the progress of ' the Scottish ants,' as an old author calls them.^ David, though a brave and humane prince, could not restrain the excesses of his rude troops, and the Nor- mans took care to prejudice the minds of the Saxon inhabitants of the banks of the Humber — who might otherwise have hailed the invaders as deliverers — with exaggerated stories of their barbarities. They had also the address to enlist tlie old national su2oerstitions on their side, by invoking the saints of English race to aid them in the field, and arraying themselves under their banners. Toustain, archbishop of York, himself a Norman, set up the standards of St Cuthbert of Durham, St John of Beverley, and St Wilfrid of Rippon. These popular flags, which pro- hahly had not seen the light since the Conquest, were now brought forth from their dusty repositories in the churches, and conveyed to Elfortun, now Northallerton, where the Norman chiefs had resolved to give bat- tle to the enemy. An instinct, half-religious, half-patriotic, drew the Saxons around the standards of their forefathers ; and when the Scottish army had crossed the Tees, they beheld the men whose neutrality at least they had reason to expect, making common cause with their Nor- man oppressors against them. The Normans had set up the mast of a ship on four wheels, at the top of this they placed a box containing the consecrated host, and around it they hung the favourite banners of the English. This standard — of a kind very common in the middle ages — occupied the centre of the army when drawn up in order of battle. The flower of the Norman chivalry took their post around it, after swearing to defend it unto death. The Saxon archers flanked both wings of ih? " Chron. Sax. apud Mackinlo'^li. * Norm. Conq. vol. II. p. 2.58—279- ' Formicaj Scotifa;. I\l;ili. Paris. PEnion.] STEPHEN. 197 main body, and formed the front ranks. Tiio Scottish army, witli mere- ly a lance for its standard, advanced in two bodies. Tlie king's son. Prince Ilf-nry, connnanded the men of tlie Lowlands and the English volunteers of Cumberland and Northumberland ; while the king himself was at the head of all the clans of the mountains and isles. Henry's troops charged the centre of the Norman army firmly and rapidly, and broke through it like a cobweb, but they were ill supported, and the lolity standard remained erect. In tlie second charge the mountaineers drew their swords in order to close upon the foe, but the Saxon arch- ers extending themselves on the flanks, assailed them with showers of arrows, while the Norman horsemen clad in full panoply charged them in front, with close ranks and lances lowered. The Gaels, unpractised in regular evolutions, no sooner felt themselves unable to bear down the enemy's ranks, and still assailed by the deadly arrows of a distant foe than they lost courage, and dispersed in all directions. Thus ended the fiunous battle of the Standard, as it was afterwards called. A still more formidable evil soon threatened Stephen. Robert of Gloucester was now prepared to assert the claims of his sister Matilda. He conducted her into England in September, 1139; sujjporters of her claims started up on all sides, and a dismal scene of intestine warfare ensued. The clergy secretly espoused the cause of the empress which daily gained popularity, and in 1141 the struggle was suspended for a while by the capture of Stephen near Lincoln. Matilda was now re- ceived by all parties as the rightful queen of England, and crowned ac- cordingly at Winchester. But her first acts disgusted her subjects, and proved her incapacity to hold the sceptre. The first words she ad- dressed to the people of London were to demand an enormous taillage ; and when the citizens, before complying with this demand, made suit that the laws of King Edward might be restored, she rejected their ap- plication with disdain. The affability and condescension of the late king was yet fresh in the minds of the disappointed citizens, and contrasted powerfully with the tone now ixssumed towards them by liis rival, and she a woman I Stung with disappointment and shame, the warlike Londoners took up arms and caused the alarm-bells to be rung in every steeple as a signal for a general rising of the population. The queen, with her Norman and Anjouan warriors, finding themselves surprised, and not daring to risk in narrow and crowded streets a conflict in v/hich superiority in arms and military science has always proved itself of little avail, hastily mounted their horses and fled towards Oxford. The expulsion of Matilda gave a new direction to the popular feeling; the partisans of Stephen again took courage, and were permitted to garrison London, whither also the wife of the captive king repaired, and there established her head-quarters. The bishop of Winchester, who in the first moments of Matilda's success had deserted her brother's cause, now again declared for him, and hoisted his flag on the castle and episcopal palace, and the capture of Robert of Gloucester consummated the ruin of the queen's cause. The two parties now concluded an agree- ment, according to which affairs were restored to precisely their former situation. The liberty of Robert was only purchased by the release of Stephen, and the country was again subjected to the most desolating species of warfare. Stephen's partisans predominated in the central and eastern parts of England; but Matilda's cause was supported by the 198 POLITICAL SEEIES. [Second churchmen, the power of Normandy, and by the Welsh. " All Eng- land, in the meantime" — to use the words of a contemporary historian — " Avore one universal aspect of misery and desolation. Multitudes abandoned their beloved country and went into voluntary exile; others, forsaking their own houses, built wretched huts in the churchyards, hoping for protection from the sacredness of the place. Whole families, after sustaining life as long as they could by eating herbs, roots, and the flesh of dogs and horses, at last died of hunger; and you might see many pleasant villages without a single inhabitant of either sex."* In 1149, Henry Fitz- Empress,'' as he was called, being arrived at the military age of sixteen years, was sent to receive the honour of knight- hood at the hands of his grand-uncle David king of Scotland. The ceremony was performed with great pomp at Carlisle, and the prince, after spending some months at the Scottish court, returned to Nor- mandy, which duchy was resigned to him by his father, on whose de- cease soon after he succeeded to the territories of i^njou, Touraine, and Maine. In the year following he married Eleanor duchess of Aqui- taine, whose dominions extended from the Loire to the foot of the Pyrenees, but who had been only six weeks before repudiated by Louis the Young. Stephen beheld the increasing power of Matilda's son with well-founded alarm, and vainly endeavoured to prevail upon Theobald, archbishop of Caterbury, to crown his eldest son, Eustace, king of Eng- land. In the meantime Henry arrived in England, on the 6th of January, 1153, and immediately laid siege to the town and castle of Marlborough, whence he marched upon W^allingford, where he was met by Stephen at the head of an opposing army. The barons of both parties laboured hard to effect a reconciliation betwixt the two rivals, and the death of Eustace facilitated the negotiation. Hostilities wen- suspended, and in a great council, held at Winchester in the month of November that same year, it was agreed that Stephen should retain the crown during his life ; that he should adopt Henry and declare him his successor; and that William, a younger son of Stephen, should, on con- dition of swearing allegiance to Henry, have a large appanage bestowed upon him. Shortly after this arrangement. King Stephen was taken ill at Dover, where he closed his wearisome and checjuered life on the 25tli of October, 1154.^ BOUN A. D. 1120. DIED A. D. 1184. Henry Plantagenet ascended the throne of England under the most favourable auspices. The people of England, disgusted with the incessant disorders of preceding reigns, beheld with delight a fair pros- pect of repose at last opening upon them, and received their new king with unanimous acclaipations. The first acts of his government were G Cie^ta Reg. Steph. 961. The language of tiiis anonymous writer singularly coin. i:ides with that of the Saxon chronicles. ' Fitt-emperesse, that is, son of the em/iress, to distinguish him from his graiitirallifir. " Chron. Gervas. al. 1376.— Huniinj;. Lib. viii. ic2H. Pkhiod.] henry ri. 199 (equally wise and viijorous, and ooiifirnicd the Iiijili ojjiiiion which tlie nation entertained of him. Inunediately after liis coronation and that of Eleanor Iiad been soleinnis(>(l in the abbey of Westminster, lie issued u charter confirmatory of that of his grandlather,' and commanded by proclamation all the foreign mercenaries of Stephen's army to fjuit the kingdom. Tlieir expulsion was a mattcT of cfpial rejoicing to English and Normans, who had alike suffered from tlu'ir outrages and exactions. lie resumed possession of the royal castles which had been usurped dur- ing the late troubles by Steplien's restless barons; he levelled with the ground many strongholds which had been erected without warrant of law ; with the approbation of his council he revoked nearly all the grants which Stephen had bestowed upon his creatures, and caused the laws of the realm once more to be enforced and respected by all parties and ranks of the community. The hearts of the English revived under the benign influence of these measures. In their gratitude th(>y remembered that Saxon blood flowed in Henry's veins; and the monarch on his part saw, well-pleased, the Saxon annalists setting forth his descent from the great Alfred, Avithout mentioning either his grandfather Henry I., or nis great-grandfatlier the Conqueror: " Thou art son," said they, " to the most glorious empress Matilda, whose niece was Matilda daughter to Margaret queen of Scotland, whose father was Edward, son of King Edmund Ironside, wdio was great-grandfather to King Alfred."^ One of the king's first measures was the appointment of Thomas a Becket to be chancellor of England. The transactions in which this famous ecclesiastic was engaged, and w liich form so large a part of the national history of his time, will be detailed in our memoir of that pre- late. It was by the advice of Becket that Henry proposed a treaty of marriage between his eldest son and the daughter of the French monarch. The children were yet in their cradle, but the proposal was most gra- ciously received, and the espousals duly solemnised at London. The object which the politic Henry had in view in this transaction, was, doubtless, to found a claim to the crown of France in the event of Louis dying without male issue, the question as to the exclusion of females by the supposed Salic law not having been yet agitated. Tliis alliance gave rise to several short and unimportant wars betwixt the royal fatliers-in-law, who soon differed as to the respective pretensions of the espoused children. One of the most important events of Henry's reign, was the annexa- tion of Ireland to the English crown. So early as the second year of bis reign he had obtained a bull from Pope Adrian IV. authorizing and exhorting him to undertake the conquest of that island ; but his mother, the empress, dissuaded him from the attempt. The elevation ot Strongbow to the royal dignity in Leinster, afforded him a specious pretence for interfering in the affairs of Ireland. Henry was received without opposition by the petty princes of that country, and having re- ceived their homage, and imposed a moderate annual tribute upon each, he returned to England, leaving Hugh De Lacy his governor in Dublin, and justiciary of the kingdom. Henry had now reached the lieight of his prosperity. He had made his pi'ace with the Papal see, so lately threatening to launch itstxrrihlp ' U,H.i.'l. " Hyiii.fi, I. CjO. HovwI. :iJ(\Q. prriod.j henry n. 203 the rest. This is our lieritago, and none of us will ever relinquish it." It vas indeed believed by many at that time, that the inHuence of au evil destiny lay upon the raee of the Piantagenets, and that they were doomed by aseries of family feuds,aiid the frecjuentsiiedding of eaeii other's blood, to expiate some mysterious erime. But the true evil genius of the family, l)e.sides their own evil passions, w;us one Bertrand de Boiee, lord of llautefoit, a man of consummate al)ility, and without prineiple. This man had gained an entire ascendancy over the minds both of Henry and his sons, and he used it for the most malignant purposes, seeking — to use the mystic language of the day — to stir up the blood against the iKsh, — to sever the head from the limbs.'-* Boice saw with regret the returning compunctions of the son, and the reviving tenderness of the father, and resolved to blast both. By arts kiiown only to himself, he soon persuaded the young prince to abandon his father's side, and again throw himself into the arms of the insui'gents. He was on the eve of once more meeting his parent in the field, when death terminated his restless and feverish career. Henry was deejily afi'ected by the tidings of his death, and resolved to take stern vengeance on Bertrand de Boice, whom he considered the real criminal in the new revolt. He shut him up in his castle of Hautefort, and quickly com2)elled him to surrender at discretion. When led before the king, Bertrand's courage and wit never for one instant forsook him. " Bertrand, Bertrand," said Henry, with a derisi\e smile, '• thou used to say that thou never hadst occasion for half thy wit, but know that the time is come when the whole would not be too much for thee." — " INIy liege," returned the Aquitanian, un- quelled bj'^ the bitter taunt, " it is true that I said so ; and I said the truth." — "And I think," rejoined Henry, "thy wit has failed thee." — " Yes," replied Bertrand, in a graver tone, and attecting some agitation of manner, " Yes, it failed me on the day that the valiant young king, thy son expired ; on that day I lost wit, discretion, and knowledge." At the mention of his son, whose name he was totally unprepared to hear uttered, the king of England melted into tears. When he recov- ered i'rom the agitation, all his purposes of revenge were dissipated, and in the prisoner now awaiting sentence from his lips, he no longer beheld the rebel and the seducer, but only the friend of the son for whom he mourned. " Yes Bertrand," said the relenting monarch, " you have good reason and cause to lose your wits for my son, for he loved you better than any man in the world ; and I, for love of him, give you your life, your castle, and all that you have. I restore you to my friendship and good graces, and grant you besides five hundred marks of silver for the damage tiiat has been done you."'° There was a ro- mantic generosity about Henry's temper, which accords well with the relation just given, whether it be in the main authentic or not. The stroke which had just fallen upon Henry Avas somewhat light- ened by a season of unwonted family harmony v»'hich followed. Geof- frey and Richard laid down their arms, and shook hands in token of reconciliation ; and Eleanor, their mother, came forth from the prison " D.iiiif iiiiikcs tliis I'.citraiid surtVi', iis liis hell, a i-iuislisenu'iU aiiakignus lothcfi,';ur »iive I xiJifchsiuii by which his crime wus designated : r vidi cerlo: cd ancor par, ch'io'l veggia, Uii busto senza capo aiular, &t. lAh. i. cant !>!*. * P.j'tnyt. (lt«5 Trcubailiiurs, ai-nid Tliierry. J 204 POLITICAL SERIES. [Second in which she had been kept for nearly ten years. But fresh trials awaited Henry's declining years. Geoffi*ey, being thrown from his horse in a tournament, was trampled to death by the horses of the othei combatants. Richard, incited by French counsels, again took up arms against his father in Poitou ; and John, his youngest and favourite child, abandoned him in the moment that fortune began to favour his brother. Worn out with incessant fatigue of body and mind, and broken-hearted at this last unnatural desertion, Henry expired at his castle of Chinon, on the 5th of July, 1184, in the 64th year of his age. The breath of life had scarcely departed from his body, befor it was stripped and plundered by his domestics, and left for burial to the charity of strangers." -Eleanor, his infamous queen, survived him many years. Henry was one of the most accomplished princes of his age. His uncle Robert, of Gloucester, himself a scholar of considerable reputa- tion, had taken great pains with his education ; and the tastes thus imjjlanted in his early youth remained with him throughout his busy life. He is described by Giraldus Cambrensis, who was much with him, as devoting to reading and intellectual conversation every inter- val that he could spare from his royal duties and sports of exercise. His memory was i)eculiarly tenacious. He remembered almost all he ever read or heard, and never forgot a face which he had once seen. Both Eleanor and Henry liberally encouraged the Provencal poets, who spread the love of song and poetry wherever they wandered. The consequences of the royal tastes soon became visible in the im- proved education of the great, and the number of authors who appeared during this reign and the next. Many important changes of ancient usage and law were matured in Henry's reign, and have been generally supposed to have originated with him and his olHcers ; but we cannot go back upon ground so fully reviewed in our introductory remarks to this section. Henry's male offspring having been repeatedly mentioned, a brief account remains to be given of his female children. Matilda, his eldest daughter, was married to Henry the Li'\n, duke of Saxony and Ba- varia, whom, when expelled from his territories by the emperor, his father-in-law liberally maintained for some years. Eleanor, another daughter of Henry, became the wife of Alphonso, king of Castile. Joan, his third daughter, espoused William the Good, king of Sicily, and, after his death, Raymond, count of Thoulouse. Besides his legi- timate issue, Henry had two sons by Rosamond Clifford, surnamed the Fair, whose connection with him has furnished materials lor romance. Geoffrey, his chancellor, was the younger of these ; the other was cre- ated Earl of Salisbury. " Script. Ill r. Fiaiic. Toin. xviii. p. 157' OlliU A. D. 1 177. Richard De Clare, surnamed Strongbow, Earl of Strigul, or Pembroke, distinguished hiniself, during the reign of Henry II., by his adventures and suceess in Ireland. That country was, at this time, divided into five independent states, — Munster, Meath, Ulster, Leio- ster, and Connaught, — of which the kingdom of Meath, though the smallest in extent, was the most distinguished. Little coniinunication had hitherto taken place between any of these states and the adjacent kingdom of England. The event, which brought them into hostile collision, sufficiently marks the rude character of the times. Dermod, or Derniot, king of Leinster, had, several years before, carried away by force Dervorgil, the wife of O'Ruarc, prince of Leitrim. The lady appears to have been little averse to the transaction ; but the insulted husband resented the indignity, by invoking the aid of his brother- chiefs, before whose united forces Dermot fled, and sought safety in ex- ile.^ Passing through England, he proceeded to Aquitaine, where he endeavoured to engage Henry in his quarrel, by doing him homage for his dominions. The English sovereign received him graciously, and granted him letters-patent, declaring that he had taken him under his protection, and authorizing any English subjects to assist him in re- covering his kingdom. With these letters Dermot sailed to Bristol, where he entered into a negotiation with Richard De Clare, a noble- man of ruined fortunes, and lying at the moment under the displeasure of his sovereign. Dermot promised to bestow the hand of his daughter, Eva, upon De Clare, and with it the succession to his kingdom in the event of his reconquering it ; and De Clare pledged himself to attempt the enterprise in the ensuing spring. After concluding this treaty, Dermot went into Wales, and there found another needy adventurer, Robert Fitz-Stephen, who was willing to engage with him. The city of Wexford, and two adjoining cantreds, were to be the reward of the Welshman's valour. Assisted by his Welsh allies, Dermot began the enterprise to recover his dominions, and was so far successful, that he soon began to aspire to the sovereignty of all Ireland. A pressing message was sent to Strongbow to accelerate his arrival, accompanied with such representations as could not fail to excite his ambition and cupidity. Giraldus has preserved one of Dermot's epistles to his ally. It is conceived in a tone little indicative certainly of the ferocious and savage character attributed to that chieftain. " We have seen," says he, " the storks and the swallows. The birds of the spring have paid us their annual visit ; and, at the warning of the blast, have departed to other climes. But our best friend has hitherto disappointed our hopes. Neither the breezes of summer, nor the storms of winter, have conducted him to these shores." The English earl was indeed ready and eager for the enterprise; but, as the object was avowedly no longer the restoration of Dermot, but the conquest of the whole country, he durst not venture to embark in it without the permission of his sover- ' Giruld. Hib. expugn. c. i. p. 760. — Liiigard, vol. j'i. p. 1(13. eign, to obtain which, he went over to Normandy ; but, in the meantime, he despatched a reinforcement to Dermot, under charge of Raymond, a youth of his own family. Nothing can more forcibly imply the unciviiized state of the Irish at this time, than the success of this small band, con- sisting of only 10 knights and 70 archers. Though opposed by O'Phel- an at the head of 3000 men, they utterly defeated their assailants, and slew above 800 of them. Giraldus describes O'Phelan's force as consisting of naked savages, armed with lances, hatches, and stones, and who were powerless, therefore, before men armed with sword and shield, and well practised in military evolutions. Henry received Strongbow's application with a sneer, and seemed disposed to discoun- tenance the attempt ; but, having at length let fall some expression, which might be construed into a kind of permission, the ea.rl eagerly laid hold of it, and, hastening back to England, pushed his prepara- tions with the greatest vigour. Before they were completed, he re- ceived positive orders from his sovereign to desist from his enterprise ; but, as he had already staked all upon the issue of his enterprise, he resolved to push it to the last, and, sailing from Milfoi'd-haven, landed near Waterford, on the 23d of August, 1170, with a body of 1200 archers and knights. Here he was joined by Dermot, and received his daughter in marriage, after which, their united forces marched against Dublin, and took that city by storm. A few months after- wards Dei'mot died at Femes, and was succeeded, in the sovereignty of Leinster, by his son-in-law, Earl Strongbow, without any opposition. These successes alarmed Henry, who issued an edict, forbidding more adventurers to go to Ireland, and commanding the victors to return. Among others, Strongbow yielded to a ])Ower too great for him to re- sist, and reluctantly made his peace with his offended sovereign, by laying his conquests at his feet. Henry permitted him to retain a great part of the kingdom of Leinster, to be held of the crown of England, but took the city of Dublin, and all the towns on the coast, into his own hands." Two years afterwards, Strongbow's services to Henry, during the rebellion of his sons, were rewarded by his appoint- ment to the government of Ireland, in room of Hugh De Lacy, which appointment he held until his death, in 1177. BORN A, D. 1157 DHiD A. D. 1199. Richard, trained to war from his earliest years in Poitou, had ob- tained the epithet of the Lion, expressive of his indomitable courage, before the succession to the throne was opened up to him b}^ the death of his elder brothers. War had become to him his natural element, and the encounter of martial hosts his most keenly relished pastime. Poetry, too, had flung her spells over him, and taught him to seek his best ce- lebrity in the songs of the gay troubadour and the admiration of the young and the beautiful. It is not wonderful then that he soon aban- doned the fascinition of empire and the luxuries of royalty for the ro- • Mtubrijieii. 1. ii. c. IfS. maiitic life of a crusader. He began his reign niagnaiiiinously by re- taining and rewarding the iiiinisfers who, in their fiih'Iity to liis father, had most vigorously opposed iiiinself ; and heading his younger brother with ri(!h(>s and honours. He also released his niotiier from her long confinement, and affectionately placed in her hands an amount of power to which she had long been a stranger. Even (Jeofirey, his fatli';r"s natural son, was not tbrgotten, but rewarded for his faithful services to iiis parents with the bishopric of York. One event, however, occurred to disgrace his splendid coronation. The prejudices of the age which viewed the lending of money on interest as a base and usurious trans- action, had conspired Avith the ' chivalrous ethics' of the day to render the Jews, not a by-word and a reproach merely, but objects of un- affected terror and hatred. Richard had already imbibed too much of the feelings and manners of the crusaders not to share in this pre- judice ; and on the day before his coronation was to take place, had issued an edict prohibiting Hebrew men and women to be pi-esent at the ceremony. A few of the leading Jews, notwithstanding, ventured themselves within tiie prohibited precincts. Their object was to pre- sent the new king with an offering from their nation, and perhaps to solicit a continuance of that protection which his father, though often importuned to act otherwise, had always extended towards them. One of the attendants discovered a Jew pressing into the hall and gave the alarm, whereupon the courtiers commenced a general attack on all the .Jews whom they could detect within the building, and drove them with blows and contumely from the place. The mob without eagerly caught the example thus set them by their superiors, and animated partly by cupidity, partly by the intensity of their ignorant prejudices, began to wound and kill tlie defenceless men as they fled along the streets, and to follow them into their houses. The Jews took the alarm, and barricadocd their doors, but the rabble, now furiously ex- cited, set fire to the houses, and consumed multitudes of the miserable creatures in the flames of their own dv^ellings. Glanville, the king's justiciary, in vain endeavoured to appease the rioters, and even Richard himself was bafiied for a time in his efflrts to disperse them.^ The example thus set by the citizens of London was eagerly imitated in other places, as Lynn, Stamford, Lincoln, and York ; and so far were the ministers of religion and the monks from disapproving of it, that the compiler of the Annals of Waverley, after relating the transaction, re- turns thanks to the Almighty for having thus delivered over so impious a race to destruction at the hands of his countrymen.^ The fame of the terrible Saladin was now ringing throughout Eu- rope, and Richard burned with all a hero's impatience to encounter the man who had yet met with no rival able to withstand him in the field. But, for an expedition such as he meditated, immense supplies of money were necessary ; and the measures to which he had recourse for raising them were not in every case of the most justifiable or ho- nourable kind. To the mass of treasure found in his father's coffers at Winchester, amounting, according to some writers, to £900,000, he added all that he could raise from the sale of the revenues and manors of the crown ; even the highest honours and most important offices • Fieiniiis, 517. • Gain's Coilbct. vol U\. p. {55. 208 POLITICAL SERIES. [Seconh were made venal ; and when some of his friends remonstrated with him at this dissipation of the royal revenues and power, he is said to have replied, " I would sell London itself, could I find a purchaser I"^ For the small sura of 10,000 marks, he released William of Scotland from the oath of fealty and allegiance to the English crown, which Henry had extorted from him as the jirice of his ransom after taking him prisoner at Alnwick. Richard had promised to make liis crusade in concert with Philip of France. The place of rendezvous was the plains of Vezelay, on the borders of Burgundy. Hither Richard hastened in the month of June 1190, after having appointed Hugh, bishop of Durham, and Longchamp, bishop of Ely, justiciaries and guardians of the realm in his absence. The assembled forces of the two monarchs amounted to 100,000 men ; and profiting by the sad experience of the leaders of former crusades, they wisely agreed to conduct their expedi- tion by sea, instead of marching by land into the east. Philip took the road to Genoa, Richard to tliat of Marseilles, where he expected to meet his fleet. A storm had retarded the English vessels, but the im- petuous monarch instantly put to sea, and sailed without it; leaving di- rections to his army and fleet to follow him to Sicily without delay. The French reached Messina on the 16th of September, the English six days afterwards. The lateness of the season and the state of the weather suggested the expediency of wintering at Messina. But the resolution proved fatal to the harmony of the royal pilgrims. Tan- cred, prince of Sicily, saw and secretly fomented the growing jealousy as the best means of preserving the integrity of his own dominions, which both monarchs seemed disposed to use as their convenience suggested. He succeeded too well in his base policy, but the two monarchs, after many scenes of angry recrimination, became at last sensible of the imprudence of tlieir qu.arrel, and agreed to reconcile diiferences, and pursue the common cause as brothers in arms.* On the 10th of April, Richard sailed from Messina with a fleet of 55 galleys and 150 ships. A storm overtook them, and the ship which conveyed his sister, and the princess Berengaria of Navarre, his espoused, was driven into Cyprus, then governed by Isaac, a prince of the Comnenian family, who received the ladies with open marks of discourtesy, and afterwards treated Richai'd's remonstrances with contempt. Richard instantly landed his whole army to chastise the insolence of the petty chief, and having surprised Comnenus in his camp, compelled him to pay 3500 marks of gold, and to swear fealty to the English crown. On his subsequently manifesting a disposition to violate his engagements, Richard ordered him to be bound in chains of gold and silver, and confined in a castle on the coast of Palestine.^ While thus engaged in Cyprus, Richard received a visit from Guy of Lusignan, king of Jerusalem, whose claim to that crown was now dis- puted by Conrad, marquess of Montferrat. Richard instantly espoused Guy's cause, and gave him 2000 marks to relieve his present necessi- ties. Before the armament quitted Cyprus, Richard celebrated his nuptials with Berengaria, who was anointed and crowned queen of England on the same day, by the bishop of Evreux. The siege of Acre had now lasted the greater part of two years; and ' Guil. Ncubri?. 396. •• R\mei's Feefl. vol. i. p. 6a ' Hovbd 393. — Isaac ilitx] a caplivc ill 1195. PFRKM..J mcHARn I. 209 botli the attack and defence had been conducted with the most deter- niiiied bravery. The garrison, animated by the presence of Saladin liimself, who, from the neighbouring heights, watched the motions of the besiegers, and receiving frequent supplies by sea, had hitherto baffled every effort of tiieir assailants, of whom, we are told, upwards of 12,000 ])erislied in the course of one year in this memorable siege.*' Six archbishops, twi:lve bishops, forty earls, and five hundred barons, had fallen before this single stronghold, yet still fresh forces appeared to carry on the deatUy struggle against the sword, famine, and pestilence The arrival of the kings of France and England decided the contest. God — say the historians of the time — blessed the holy pilgrimage of these wise and pious kings ; their pedereroee, their mangels, and their trebuchets, battered the walls of Acre so well, that a breach was made in a few days, and the garrison, consisting of 5,000 Saracens, obliged to capitulate. Saladin agreed to release 2,500 Christian prisoners, imd, in two months, to pay 200,000 byzants as the ransom of the Turkish prisoners, and to restore the holy cross. The crusaders took possession of Acre, and Saladin removed his camp to a distance. But this success, though hailed by all Christendom as a prelude to the de- livery of Jerusalem, did little to cement the friendship of the crusaders themselves. Not only Richard and Philip, but all the other chiefs, were divided among themselves by ambition, avarice, and pride. On the day of the capture of Acre, the two kings divided the tov/n between them, and each of them planted the royal standai'd on his own portion. Leopold, duke of Austria, made the like attempt, but Richard immedi- ately tore down his banner and threw it into a sewer. The duke imme- diately withdrew from the town, treasuring up his revenge for a favour- able opportunity. Some time after, the marquess of Montferrat was as- sassinated at Tyre, in open day, by two Arabs, and the king of England was accused of having hired them. In the midst of these contentions, the king of France falling sick, believed or pretended to believe that he had been poisoned by the king of England ; and on this and other pre- texts relinquished the undertaking which he had vowed to complete, and sailed for France. Thp massacre of his prisoners at Acre, has stained the memory of Richard. It would appear that Saladin had delayed the first instalment of the ransom, and a rumour had reached the Christian camp that he had consummated his perfidy by putting to death all his prisoners. The Christian soldiers demanded permission to revenge the fate of their comrades, and their leaders assented to tlie proposition. The gallant garrison of Acre was divided into two bodies of 2,500 men each, one of which was led to the summit of a hill in sight of tlie Saracen camp, and there put to the sword by Richard's troops ; and the other massacred on the walls of Acre by the troops of the duke of Burgundy. It sufficiently marks the character of the age, that a deed so bloody and barbarous as this was contemplated wholly without remorse by its perpetrators. " We have, as became us," says R ichard in a letter to the abbot of Clairvaux, " put to death 2,500 of them."'' " It was done," says Vinesauf, " with the assent of all." Richard now conducted his army, reduced to 30,000 men, from Acre to Jaffa. Nothing coidd exceed the privations and sufferings o^ ' Vinesauf, 317. ' Hoved, 39S. I. 2d 210 POLITICAL SERIES. [SECo^^) the march, under a Syrian sun, over burning sands, and surrounded by clouds of fierce and savage horsemen. Richard's supplies of men and money were also fast failing him ; and the most bitter dissensions, as usual, prevailed amongst his companion chiefs. Still, in the face of these obstacles, he pursued his course towards the holy city, and even reached Rarala, where the inclemency of the weather, the want of pro- visions, and the breaking out of pestilence in the camp, at last arrested his march, and compelled him reluctantly to turn his steps back to the coast. Again, he advanced upon Jerusalem, and again retreated upon Jaffa, whither Saladin followed him. It was before this town that the king of England gave the most signal displays of that indomitable courage and resistless prowess which earned for him the appellation of the Lion-heart, and the admiration of his fiercest enemies. At the head of a small army, with which he had returned to the succour of Jaffa, consisting of 55 knights, of whom 10 only were mounted, and 2000 infantry, he successfully resisted the impetuous attack of the whole Sa- racen cavalry, and, rushing with his men-at-arms into the midst of their squadrons, performed feats of superhuman strength and bravery, cutting doM'n every single opponent, and often breaking his way tlirough whole battalions of the enemy. Soon after this encounter, a truce Wcis concluded for three years, by which the Christians were left in pos- session of the coast from Acre to Joppa, and free access to the holy sepulchre was secured to all pilgrims.* Thus fruitlessly terminated Richard's crusade. The tidings which had reached him that his bro- ther John, supported by the king of France, was meditating the seizure of his Norman duchy, and that William de Longchamp, his chancellor, was abusing the power with which he had been intrusted in the absence of his sovci-eign, undoubtedly accelerated Richards return home. But it is probable that he had also discovered, by this time, how totally unprovided he was for undertaking the siege of Jerusalem, and that in the presence of such a general as Saladin. On the 9th of October, 1192, Richard finally left the shores of the holy land ; but his reputation as a warrior was long preserved amongst his gallant foes.^ The bulk of Richard's fleet reached England in safety, but his own vessel having been driven by a storm on the coast of Istria, he landed, and proceeded in disguise towards Friesach in Saltzburg, where he fell into the hands of the duke of Austria, who was subsequently com- pelled to resign his royal prisoner to the emperor Henry VI. Richard's situation was first discovered by his own chancellor, Longchamp, who had been driven into exile by the ambitious John, and who prevailed on the emperor to summon an assembly of princes at Haguenau for the purpose of hearing and determining the various charges which had been preferred from different quarters against Richard. These charges were : that he had supported the usurper, Tancred, in Sicily, to the empero r's great cost and damage ; that he had unjustly driven Isaac, king of Cy- prus, from his throne ; that he had ill-used many German pilgrims ; • Vinesauf, 410. • Joinville says that llicliard's bravery had so deeply impressed the imagination of the Saiacens, tliat, long after his death, his name was used as synonymous with a spirit of power and evil. Sarai'en mo:hers would quiet tlieir children by exdaimiiig, " liush 1 hush ! Melech Rich (King Richard) is coming for you.'' And when a Turk's horse started at wiy thing, the rider would chide him, with " Guides lu qu' y suit le roi Ricliard?'" " Dc you thiuk that tliire is Kuig Richard?" Pekiod. I JOHN. tin und that he liad hired assassins to murder the marquess of Montterrat To these accusations RiciKird replied in a manly and energetic speech, which was received by the princes of the diet with great applause, and which induced Henry to consent to treat about his ransom. A con- vention was executed between the emperor and king, l)y which it Avas in efl'ect agreed that Richard should receive his liberty on paying 100,000 marks of silver to the emperor. Longchamp was now despatch- eil to England with a letter to the council of regency, calling upon thcia to adopt measures for raising and transmitting the stipulated ran- som. To raise this sum, the plate of all the churches and monasteries was taken, and one-fourth of every man's jneome, and England, says an ancient annalist, " from sea to sea was reduced to the utmost dis- tress." Meanwhile John and the French monarch did every thing in their power to detain Richard in captivity ; but the interference of the German princes, who had become sureties for the release of the Eng- lish monarch, compelled the emperor to observe his engagement, and on the 13th of March, 1194, Richard landed at Sandwich amidst the acclamations of his subjects, after an absence of more than four years.'" During Richard's absence from England, his brother John, prompted and supported by Philip of France, had disturbed England and Nor- mandy by repeated insurrections. Richard now pronounced John an outlaw, and engaged in a series of military operations against Philip, which were pursued with little advantage to either party, until the death of Richard before Chaluz, the obscure castle of a rebellious vas- sal in Limousin, on the 24th of March 1199. His body was buried at Fontevraud : his lion-heart he bequeathed to the citizens of Rouen, in gratitude for their loyalty and attachment to him." Richard's fame Mas purely that of a warrior. When we have given him the praise of indomitable valour, his panegyric is finished. " He has been comjiared," says Mackintosh, " to Achilles, but the greatest of poets chose to adorn his savage hero with sorrow for the fate of Pa- troclus, — a sort of infirmity which cannot be imputed to Richard, who had, La every respect, the heart of the lion." BORN A. D. 1167 DIED A. D. 1216. Richard died without legitimate issue. In the strict order of he- reditary succession his crown devolved to his nephew Arthur, the son of Geort'rey, Richard's elder brother, and duke of Bretagne, whom Richard, when he entered on the holy Mar, had formally declared his heir apparent. But, M'hile on his death-bed, Richard declared his bro- ther John his successor, and bequeathed to him three-fourths of his trea- sures. Anjou,Touraine, and Maine, the domains of the Plantagenets, M'ith Poitou, declared for Arthur: while Normandy and Guienne ac- knowledged John. In England, Archbishop Hubert, William the mar- shal, and the justiciary Fitz-Peter, supported John and procured his coronation at Westminster ; but the French monnrch made show of Hov,.,rt. 417 I' lb 449. 212 POLITICAL SERIES. [SECOirn supporting the cause of the orjohan Arthur, to whom he gave his daughter Mary in marriage. A long and fruitless struggle with Philip marks the first years of John's reign. The controversy whether the Capets or the Plantagenets were to take the lead among the princes of France was thus revived, and the vigorous genius of Philip finally determined in favour of the house of Capet. But the fortune of war in the opening of the struggle favoured John, and placed his rival Arthur in his hands, who disap- peared within a few weeks, and whose fate report ascribes to the dagger of his remorseless uncle. Whether the guilt of so foul a crime really rested upon John or not, it suited Philip's policy to affect to believe the charge, and to summon John, as duke of Normandy, to prove his innocence, in the presence of the French peers, of the crime of hav- ing murdered an arriere vassal of the French crown. John declined appearance, and the court pronounced judgment in absence, declaring that '•' whereas John, duke of Normandy, in violation of his oath to Philip his lord, had murdered the son of his elder brother, a homager of the crown of France, and near kinsman to the king, and had per- petrated the crime within the signiory of France; he was found guilty of felony^ and treason, and was therefore adjudged to forfeit all the lands which he held by homage."" This sentence was followed up by the annexation of the counties of Touraine, Maine, and Anjou to the French crown in 1203, the duchy of Normandy in 1205, and the county of Poitou in 1206. The attempts of John to recover his do- mains were alike pusillanimous and imbecile. While, one after another his strongest castles were falling into the hands of his powerful rival, he was leading a life of inglorious indolence, amidst a gay and vo- luptuous court, at Rouen ; nor was it until the reduction of Radipont, in the vicinity of that city, that he awoke from his lethargy, and tied with precipitation to England. A truce was ultimately concluded be- tween the two kings on the 26th of October, 1206, by which all the provinces north of the Loire were in effect ceded to the king. This unfortunate contest with the French king was followed by another with the Roman pontiff", differing indeed in its object, but equally disgraceful in its result. A dispute had for some time ex- isted regarding the right claimed by the monks of St Augustin's abbey in Canterbury to elect the archbishop of that see. This right was denied by the suffragan bishops of the province ; and at the death of each successive archbishop, the contest was resumed between the two parties. The king always supported the prelates, whom he found more accessible to the influence of the crown, than the monks who, according to the genius of their order, were devoted to Rome ; and the pope as naturally supported the monks. On the death of Hubert, archbishop of Canterbury, the monks, at the instigation of Pope Inno- cent, chose Stephen Langton to the vacant see. John declared that he would never allow Langton to set a foot in England in (he charac- ter of primate ; and the pope in return laid his dominions under a.n interdict, which was published at London by the three bishops of London, Ely, and Worcester. The churches were instantly closed ; no bell was tolled; no service solemnly performed; the administra- ' Felnnia Pst delictum vassalli in dominum quo feudum amittitur. — Dii Caiige in voc. ' VVtsiin. &>«. PKitior..] JOHN. 213 tion of the sacraments, except to infants and the dying, was j)io- hil)ited ; and the dead were silently buried in unconsccrated ground The interdict was even followed by excomiiuiiiication and conse- (|U(iit deposition ; but the laity seem to have been little affected by such solemn proceedings, and the only successful expeditions of John's reign, those against Scotlanil, Ireland, and Wales, were conducted (luring the period of his proscription by the Roman see. John might indeed have laughed at the impotent resentment of the holy father, had no monarch been found willing to undertake the execution of the sentence of deposition. But this was a piece of service which Philip of France readily undertook. A numerous army was sum- moned to assemble at Rouen, and an armament of 1700 vessels pre- pared to make a descent upon the English coast. John did not again remain an idle spectator of the storm wliich was gathering around him ; but Pandulph, the pope's legate, so worked upon his fears, that he resolved rather to avert it by negotiation and compromise, than to brave its fury. He agreed to adiuit Langton to the archbishopric of Canterbury, and to repair all damage which the bisliops and clergy had suffered at' his hands : he also consummated his disgrace by taking the very same oath of fealty to the pope, which vassals took to their lords, and consenting to pay an annual tribute of 700 marks of silver for England, and 300 for Ireland. On the 15th of May, 1213, he put into the hands of the legate a charter subscribed by himself, one arch- bishop, one bishop, nine earls, and two barons, testifying that, as an atonement for his offences against God and the church, he had deter- mined to lunnble himself, and had, therefore, not through fear or force, but of free will, and with the unanimous consent of his barons, granted to the pope and his rightful successors the kingdom of England and the kingdom of Ireland, to be held of him and of the Roman church in fee, by the annual rent of 1000 marks, with the reservation to himself and his heii's of the administration of justice, and the pecu- liar rights of the crown.^ The nuncio, thereupon, intimated to Philip that he must no longer molest a penitent son, and faithful vassal of the holy see, nor invade a kingdom which was now a part of the patri- mony of St Peter. The king of France received this intimation with high displeasure, and proceeded to indemnify himself for the expenses to wliich he had been put by the seizure of Flanders ; but a fleet des- patched by John, under the earl of Salisbury, defeated his design, and the independence of Flanders was preserved. The third great event of this reign was still more memorable than either of the preceding. John had disgusted his barons by his pusil- lanimity, and enraged them by his insolent bearing towards their wives and daughters ; his last act of submission to the pope excited their universal disgust and alienation, while his endless exactions and impo- Bitions discontented all ranks of men. His attempt on the honour of the beautiful wife of Eustace De Vescy, a distinguished baron, roused the barons to their first open act of resistance. On the 20th of No- vember, 1213, an assembly of that body met at the abbey of St Ed- niundsbury, where they solemnly swore upon the high altar to with- draw themselves from the kinf^'s fealty, and to wage war against him. 3 Paris li)!J. 214 POLITICAL SERIES. PSecond till he should confirm by a cliarter the liberties which they demanded. They agreed that, after the festival of Christmas, they would prefer in a body their common petition, and in the meantime they mutually en- gaged to put themselves in a posture for obtaining by force of arms, ■f necessary, what they would first demand as a matter of right. Langton, archbishop of Canterbury, espoused the cause of the con- federated barons, and undertook to communicate their demands to the king. On hearing them, the king, with a scornful sneer, exclaimed, " They might as well have demanded my crown !" and swore never to grant his nobles such privileges as would make himself a slave. The barons received the announcement of the king's determination with equal indignation, and instantly marched upon London, under Robert Fitzwalter, as their generalissimo. The pope in vain interfered to quell the rising storm, and issued a bull in favour of his vassal : John was left almost without a single follower, while the whole nobility and gentry of the kingdom, with the yeomanry and free peasantry, and the citizens of London, made common cause with each other. In this state of things, one only course remained for John to pursue. He informed the confederates that he was ready to grant their petition, and re- quested them to name a day and place for the conferences. On the 15th of June, both parties advanced to a place called Runnymede, on the banks of the Thames, where they opened a conference which lasted four days. An instrument containing the demands of the confederates, or the heads of their grievances, and the means of redress, was pre- sented to the king, who, according to the custom of the times, directed that the several articles should be reduced into the form of a charter, and in this state promulgated as a regal grant.* We have already attempted to show, in our historical introduction to this period, that this charter, so celebrated in history as the supposed basis on which are founded the liberties of Englishmen, although it contained some provisions in favour of the people, chiefly consulted the interests of the barons.* We will here present the reader with the views which one of our most enlightened statesmen has taken of this Important document : — -" Many parts of the great charter," says Sir James Mackintosh, " were pointed against the abuses of the power of the king as lord paramount, and have lost their importance since the downfall of the system of feuds, which it was their purpose to mitigate. But it contains a few maxims of just government, applicable to all places and times, of which it is hardly possible to over-rate the impor- tance of the first promulgation by the supreme authority of a powerful and renowned nation. Some clauses, though limited in words by feu- dal relations, yet covered general principles of equity, which were not slowly unfolded by the example of the charter, and by their obvious application to the safety and well-being of the whole community. " Aids, or assistance in money, were due from any vassal for the ran- som of the lord, for the knighting of his eldest son, and for the mar- riage of his eldest daugliter ; but they were often extorted when no such reasons could be urged. Escuage, or scutage, was a pecuniary compensation for military service ; but as the approach of war was an easy pretext, it was liable to become almost arbitrary. Taillage, an • Rviner Foed. i. 1S9. i'. 173. impost assessed on cities and towns, and on freemen who owed no mil- itary service, according to an estimate of their income, was in its na- ture very arbitrary. In this case, however, the barons showed no indifference to the lot of the inferior classes ; for in tlieir articles they require a parliamentary consent to the taillages of London and all other towns, as much as to the aids and scutages which fell upon themselves.® By the charter itself, however, taillage was omitted ; the liberties of London and other towns were generally asserted. But it contained the memorable provision, — ' No scutage, or aid, shall be raised in our kingdom, except in the above three cases, but by the general council of the kingdom ;' — ^ a concession which, though from motives unknown to us, was not so extensive as the demand, yet applied to bodies so numerous and considerable as sufficiently to declare a principle, which could not long continue barren, that the consent of the community is essential to just taxation ; which, in the first instance, guarded against arbitrary exaction, and in due time showed the means of peaceably subjecting the regal power to parliamentary and national opinion. By the charter, as confirmed in the first year of the next reign, even scu- tages and aids were reserved for further consideration as grave and doubtful matters. But the formidable principle had gone forth.* Every species of impost, without the consent of parliament, was not expressly renounced till the statute called Confirmatio Chartarum, in the twenty- fifth year of Edward L, fourscore years after the grant of the Great Charter. " To constitute this common council for the levy of aids, says the charter, ' we shall cause the prelates and greater barons to be separ- ately summoned by our letters ; and we shall direct oar sheriffs and bailiffs to summon generally all who hold of us in claief ; and we shall take care to publish the cause of the summons in the same way, and give forty days' notice of the meeting.' " To the upper house of our modern parliament this clause is still per- fectly applicable. From the lower liouse the common council of John's charter essentially differs, in excluding representation, and in confining the right of concurrence in imposing taxes to the direct tenants of the crown. It presents, however, the first outline of a "parliamentary con Btitution. The chapters on this subject, with others less important were postponed till after further considei-ation in the charter of Henry [II., on the alleged ground that they contained grave and doubtful matters. Whether this reason were honest or evasive we cannot posi- tively ascertain ; but, in that reign, as we shall soon see, a house of commons, such as the present, certainly was assembled. " The thirty-ninth article of this charter is that important clause which forbids arbitrary imprisonment and punishment without lawful trial : — ' Let no freeman be imprisoned or outlawed, or in any manner injured, nor proceeded against by us, otherwise than by the legal judgment of his peers, or by the law of the land.' In this clause are clearly con- tained the writ of habeas corpus, and the trial by jury, — the most ef- fectual securities against oppression, which the wisdom of man has hitherto been able to devise. It is surely more praiseworthy in these ' ■' S'mili moilo fiai dc taillagiis de civitate London- et de aliis civitalibiis.'' Ail. Curiae Hcsis Jnliaiiiiis. § iH. ' Mi.g. Chart. § U. * 1 Hen. III. Slau. of the Healin. i. Ifi. 216 POLITICAL SEEIES. [Second haughty nobles to have covered all freemen with the same Ijuekler as themselves, than not to have included serfs in the same protection : — - ' We shall sell, delay, or deny justice to none.' No man can carry far- ther the principle that justice is the grand debt of every government to the people, which cannot be paid without rendering law^ cheap, prompt, and equal. Nor is the twentieth section unworthy of the like com- mendation : — -' A freeman shall be amerced in proportion to his offence, saving his contenement, and a merchant saving his merchandise.' And surely the barons must be acquitted of an exclusive spirit who subjoin, ' and the villain saving his waggonage.' It seems to be apparent from Glanville,^ that villainage was a generic term for servitude in the reign of Henry II., so that the villain of the great charter must have been at least a species of serf. The provision which directs that the su- preme civil court shall be stationary, instead of following the king's person, is a proof of that regard to the regularity, accessibility, inde- pendence, and dignity of public justice, of which the general predomi- nance peculiarly characterises that venerable monument of English liberty. The liberty of coming to England and going from it, secured to foreign merchants of countries with whom this kingdom is at peace, (unless there be a previous prohibition, which Lord Coke interprets to mean by act of parliament,) even if we should ascribe it to the solici- tude of the barons for the constant supply of their castles with foreign luxuries, becomes on that very account entitled to regard, inasmuch as the language must be held to be deliberately chosen to promate and insure the purpose of the law. " It is observable that the language of the great charter is simple, brief, general without being abstract, and expressed in terms of author- ity, not of argument, yet commonly so I'easonable as to carry with it the intrinsic evidence of its own fitness. It was understood by the simplest of the unlettered age for whom it was intended. It was re- membered by them ; and though they did not perceive the extensive consequences which might be derived from it, their feelings were, how- evei', unconsciously exalted by its generality and grandeur. " It was a peculiar advantage that the consequences of its principles were, if we may so speak, only discovered gradually and slowly. It gave out, on each occasion, only as much of the spirit of liberty and reformation as the circumstances of succeeding generations required, and as their character would safely bear. For almost five centuries it was appealed to as the decisive authority on behalf of the people, though commonly so far only as the necessities of each case demanded. Its efiect in these contests was not altogether unlike the grand process by which nature employs snows and frosts to cover her delicate germs, and to hinder them from rising above the earth till the atmosphei'e has acquired the mild and equal temperature which insures them against blights. On the English nation, undoubtedly, the charter has contri- buted to bestow the union of establishment with improvement. To all mankmd it set the first example of the progress of a great people for centuries, in blending their tumultuary democracy and haughty nobil- ity with a fluctuating and vaguely limited monarchy, so as at length to Ibrm from these discordant materials the only form of free governnieul * (ilaiiv. dB Lcgibus et Cousiiei. Ai;gl. lib. v. LdhiI. 1(J73. I'KRioi).] JOHN, 217 wliich experience had shown to be reconcilable with widely extended dominions. Whoever in any future age or unljorn nation may admire tlic felicity of the expedicnit which converted the power of taxation into the shield of liberty, by which discretionary and secret imprisonment was renilered impracticable, and portions of the people were trained to exercise a larger share of judicial power than was ever allotteil to them in any other civilized state, in such a manner as to sjeets a full anmesty for the past, and their lawful liberties for the future. This wise step was of course dictated by Pembroke, whose ofHce naturally placed him at the head of the government during a minority; but in order to enlarge and secure his authority in the capacity of regent, a general council of the barons was summoned at Bristol on the 11th of November, in which Pembroke was solemnly chosen protector of the j realm. To this meeting, Pembroke caused his pupil present a new charter of liberties based upon the great charter, which was revised for this purpose, and cut down from Gl chapters to 42. Among the more remarkable alterations adopted in the new instrument, were, besides the omission of every clause of a temporary nature, the suspension for further consideration of several clauses which appeared to bear hard on the ancient claims of the crown.^ Some improvements were also intro- duced, and the ratification of the charter was upon the whole well re- ceived throughout the kingdom. This charter was again confirmed by the king in the ensuing year, M'ith the addition of some articles to pre- vent acts of oppression by the sheriffs, and with ameliorated fbrest-rcgu- lations, by which offences in the forest were declared to be no longer capital, and the proprietors of land received the power of cutting and using their own wood at their pleasure. Several powerful barons, won by these and other politic measures of the regent, came over to Henry, among whom were the earls of Salisbury, Arundel, and Warrenne, with the protector's eldest son. While Pembroke was steadily pursuing his wise and conciliatory courses, the French prince was disgusting his best adherents among the English nobilit}^, by the distrust which he evinced of their fidelity. They gradually detached themselves from confederacy with the for- eigner, and either retired to their castles, or hastened to join the ranks of the royalists. By these accessions, Pembroke was so much strength- ened that he ventured to invest Montsorel, but retired before the ap- proach of the confederate army, consisting of 600 knights, and 20,000 men, under the command of the count of Perche. The count elated with his success, instead of pressing upon the fugitives, marched to- wai'ds Lincoln, and laid siege to the castle, which was gallantly held out against him by a celebrated heroine Nichola de Camville. Pem- broke immediately assembled his forces at Newark, and having thrown a reinforcement into the garrison of Lincoln, attacked the confederates from without, at the same moment that a sortie was made from the cas- tle. The confederate army assailed on both sides, gave way, and were cut to pieces ; the count himself perished in the fight, and above four hundred knights and eleven barons fell into the hands of the victors. This victory, which decided the fate of England, was long knowii in the quaint language of the times as ' the fair of Lincoln.' On the news of this defeat, Louis, who was then besieging Dover which was valiantly ilefended by Hubert de Burgh, immediately retreated to London, where ' M. Paris, p. 200.— Hemiii?. 562. • Bliiclistoiie's Iiitiod. lo the lireat charti r, p. 43. — Uiady II. .^pp. No. 145. 220 POLITICAL SERIES [Second he shut himself up within the walls. The destruction of a French armament which had put to sea for his relief, annihilated the last hopes of Louis, and comjielled him to negotiate for his personal safety. A treaty of peace was signed at Lambeth, by which the prisoners on both sides were liberated; an amnesty was granted to the English adherents of Louis, and that prince with his foreign associates was allowed to re- turn in safety to France.^ After the expulsion of the French, the pru- dence and equity of the protector's subsequent conduct greatly contri- buted to restore internal peace to the country, and to heal those wounds which such a long state of civil war had occasioned ; but he did not long survive to witness the happy fruits of the pacification which had been chiefly brought about by his wisdom and valour. He died in 1219, and was succeeded in the regency by Peter des Roches, bishop of Winchester, and Hubert de Burgh. History has been sparing in her information regarding this eminent man ; but from what she has re- corded of his acts and measures, we are justified in regarding him as one of the most prudent and upright of English statesmen. BORN" A. D. 1206 DIED A. D. 1272. In the preceding memoir we have related under what auspices Heni-y succeeded to the throne, and the principal events which occurred in his minority under the regency of the earl-marshal. One of the ear- liest acts of Hubert de Burgh, the grand justiciary, who succeeded Pembroke in the regency, was to obtain a bull from the pope de- claring his pupil competent to do all royal acts.' Hubert seems to have been driven to this step by the unruly proceedings of some powerful barons whom he despaired of suppressing by his o^^Tl au- thority ; but the consequences were rather increased dissatisfaction and violence on the part of the barons, many of whom openly set at de- fiance the authority of the king as well as of his regent. The loss of Rochelle, and the successes of Louis' arms in Poitou, suggested the necessity of an expedition against France, and a subsidy of one- fifteenth of all personal estates was obtained for this purpose in 1225; but the parliament assented to this aid only on the express condition that the charter should be again confirmed. In consequence of this constitutional bargain the great charter was, on the llth of February, re-issued in parliament, and has ever since held its place at the head of English statutes. The expedition was unfortunate ; and returned to England after having done little more than reduced and garrisoned the strongholds of a few Gascon lords. After his return from France in 1231, Henry demanded and OD- tained a scutage from parliament ; but in tlie following year was de- nied further aid by his barons. About this time he began to show dissatisfaction with Hubert de Burgh, who, after the close of the re- gency, had remained first minister. Hubert had hitherto maintained R co;nj)lete ascendancy over the kimsr's mind, and had used his in- RtKiiHi-. 1. ■^■^l. ' M. West. (J 282. pekiod.] henry m. 221 riuence for the best purposes. Faitlil'ul in emergency, and ever pru- dent in council, he hail olteu stood his niaster in valuable service when more designing counsellors would have betrayed iiim to his ruin; but (he king liad forgot what he owed to his minister, and become weary of the iiilluence which he felt his minister exercised over his mind. The nobility in general marked the change in the king's aifections with delight, and exerted themselves to foment his growing dislike to his minister. De Burgh was charged with having secretly dissuaded the duke of Austria from giving his daughter in marriage to Henry ; with having poisoned the earls of Salisbury and Pembroke; with having put to death a freeman of London without the form of a trial ; and with some other otfences of a most frivolous kind, such as of gaining the king's aifection by enchantment, and of purloining from the royal trea- sury a gem which had the virtue to render its wearer invulnerable.'^ Hu- bert took sanctuary in the monastery at Merton ; but was finally suffered to retire into ))rivate life. Peter, bishop of Winchester, a Poictevin by birth, succeeded Hu- bert in the place of minister. The partiality which he evinced for his own countrymen, with whom he filled every place of honour or emolu- ment in his gift, excited the dislike of the native nobility, who formed a combination against the minister, but his fall was accomplished at last by the iuHuence of the church, not by that of the nobles. The arch- bishop of Canterbury represented to the king the dangerous conse- quences of his minister's partialities, and demanded his dismissal on pain of excommunication. Henry trembled before the threat, and adojited the alternative proposed : and the primate henceforward bore the chief sway in the government. But no remonstrances, even though carried to the length of threats, could ever prevail on the king to aban- don his system of patronising foreigners ; his court was filled with aliens ; the chief benefices in the kingdom were conferred on Italian priests ; and papal influence pervaded every department of the go- vernment. Henry's encouragement of foreigners, however, w'as not an unmixed evil. His reign connected England with Armenia, Avhose ecclesiastics fled thither from the invading Tartars ; with Germany, whose emperor married Henry's sister ; with Provence and Savoy, from which countries he and his brother had their wives ; with Spain, where his son was knighted and wedded ; with France, which he visited with much pomp ; with tlie southern regions of France, Guienne, and Poi- tou, which he retained ; with the countries upon the Rhine, where his brother went to obtain the empire ; with the north of Italy, whither he Bcnt knights to assist the emperor against Milan ; with the south of it, by his intercourse with the court of Rome ; with Savoy, whose count he pensioned ; with Constantinople, Avhose exiled emperor sought his support ; with .Jerusalem, whither English crusaders still journeyed ; and even with the Saracens, who solicited his aid against the Tartars.^ This varied and extensive intercourse with foreign nations proved highly advantageous to English arts and sciences as well as to the external commerce of the nation. In 1253, Henry applied to parliament for a new subsidy. His de- uumds wer'^ tor a time rejected, and the clergy embraced the opj)ortu- ' M. Paris, p. 259. ' Turner's Hist, of Eiig. vol. i. p. oOa. SdO. 222 POLITICAL SERIES. [Second iiity to send a deputation of four prelates in order to remonstrate with the king on his frequent violation of their privileges, and the oppres- sions with which he loaded them and all his subjects. " It is true," replied the king, " I have been somewhat faulty in this particular : I obtruded you, my lord Canterbury, upon your see. I was obliged to employ both entreaties and menaces, my lord Winchester, to have you elected. My proceedings, I confess, were very irregular, my lords of Salisbury and Carlisle, when I raised you from the lowest stations to your present dignities. I am determined, henceforth, to correct these abuses ; and it will also become you, in order to make a thorough re- formation, to resign your present benefices, and try to enter again on a more regular and economical manner." The bishops felt the sar- casm, bnt pressed their demands, justly observing that the question was not how to correct past errors, but how to avoid them for the future. Henry knew the necessity of the case, and yielded with the best possible grace to the demands of his barons, lay and clerical, and the parliament in return agreed to grant him a supply, but not until he had ratified the great charter in the most solemn manner which the spirit of the times could suggest. All the prelates and abbots as- sembled with the peers in Westminster hall ; the great charter was read aloud ; sentence of excommunication was then denounced against all who should henceforth infringe upon its provisions ; the prelates then, according to usage, threw their tapers on the ground, saying, " So let all be extinguished and sink into the pit of hell who incur this sentence ;" and the king answered : " So help me God, I will keep all these articles inviolate, as I am a man, as I am a Christian, as I am a knight, and as I am a king crowned and anointed."* But all these solemn promises were soon forgotten on the king's part, who speedily resumed his arbitrary practices, and again roused the univer- sal indignation of all classes of his subjects. It was now apparent that no guarantee would suffice to protect the rights of the nation shoii of placing the administration in other hands than those of the perjured monarch. A parliament was convened at Oxford, at which twenty- four barons were chosen, twelve by the king's council, and twelve by the parliament, with unlimited power to inquire into and redress griev- ances, and to reform the state, subject, however, to the control of a parliament to be assembled thrice a-year, and who were to be informed of all breaches of law and justice throughout the country by four knights to be elected for that purpose in every county. A civil war was the result of these measures, in wliich Prince Edward gal- lantly supported his father's fortunes, and finally overcame Leicester at the head of the popular party. The remaining years of Henry's reign were undistinguished by any event of importance. He died in Novem- ber, 1272, after a nominal reign of fifty-six years. • M. Pa.iis, 68(». PiMU.)...] lUCHAKD, EARL OF CORNWALL. 223 3aic5aiU, €nv\ of ConttoU^ HOUN A. D. 1^0?) DIKD A. D. 1272. Phince Richard, the brotiicr of Henry, received tlie earldom of Cornwall on its falling by escheat to the crown. His ruling passion was to amass money, in which he succeeded so well as soon to become the richest subject in Christendom. But he was not always over scrupu- lous as to the means by which he sought to gratify his darling pas- sion, and his cupidity at a very early period of his brother's reign, led to a misunderstanding between them. Richard had seized a manor I which had been granted to one Waleran de Ties, on the pretext that it belonged of right to his earldom of Cornwall. Waleran complained to the king, who ordered his brother to reinstate him in his possession ; but the earl refused to do so before the cause was heard by a jury of i his peers, and judgment to that effect pronounced by them. Henry ' was peremptory in his demands, and the earl chose the alternative of ; going to war with his sovereign rather than yield to his orders. With ' the assistance of the earls of Pembroke, Chester, Warrenne, and others, : he assembled an army which intimidated the king, who was obliged to compromise the quarrel by grants to his brother of much greater im- portance than the manor which had been the first ground of the dispute.' The Romish church had found means to reduce the kingdom of Si- i cily to a state of feudal vassalage. After the death of Frederic H. the ' Sicilian succession devolved to Conradine, grandson of that emperor ; but Mainfroy, a natural son of the emperor's, having got the govern- ment of the emperor's Italian dominion into his hands during the mi- I .lority of the young prince, rejected the claim of the papal see, and set j at defiance the whole power of Pope Innocent. In this state of things, his holiness bethought himself of making a tender of the crown of Sicily to the earl of Cornwall, whose immense riches he flattered him- self would be thus placed at the service of the holy see, and enable it to support military operations against Mainfroy. But Richard had the firmness and prudence to refuse so dangerous a present when first of- fered, and had soon reason to value himself on his foresight. For, when Innocent made the same ofi'er to Henry for his second- son Ed- ward, the thoughtless monarch grasped at the delusive proposal, and speedily found himself involved in an immense debt by his holy ally, while the crown of Sicily remained as remote as ever from his grasp." But Richard's prudence was not always proof against his ambition, and he was at last persuaded to embark in an aftair which proved as chimerical and expensive as that of the reduction of Sicily. The im- perial throne being vacant, the German princes, attracted by the im- mense opulence of the earl of Cornwall, invited him to become a can- didate for that dignity. Dazzled with the lustre of the imperial crown, Richard, in an evil moment, accepted of the invitation ; and, in Aprd 1257, took his departure from England with a train of 40 gentlemen, carrying with him a sum of 700,000 marks, or about £8,000,000 of our present currency.^ This immense sum was soon exhausted by the ' M. Paris, 233. » Rwncr, i. oS7.— M. Paris, 617. ' M. P.iii>, 659. 224 POLITICAL SERIES. [Second cupidity of tlie German princes, and the only return which Richard received for his profuse libex'ality, was the empty title of king of the Romans. Richai'd's absence from England on this fruitless expedition greatly weakened his brother's hands, and enabled tlie barons to carry into effect their plan of the council of twenty-four already mentioned. Nor was the king of the Romans allowed to return to England until he had sworn to observe the regulations established at Oxford. In 1264, Richard was taken prisoner at the battle of Lewes, in which he commanded the main body of the royalists. His subsequent history presents nothing remarkable. DIED A. D. 1265. Amongst other foreigners whom Henry's well-loiown partialities at- tracted to the English court, was Simon de INIontfort, second son of the earl of Montfort of infamous memory, who headed the crusade against the Albigenses. A large inheritance in England fell by succession to this fa- mily ; but as the elder brother Amauri, the constable of France, enjoyed still more opulent possessions in his own country, and could not perform fealty to two masters, he transferred his right to Simon, his younger bro- ther, who came over to England, did homage for his lands, and, being raised to the dignity of earl of Leicester, thenceforward acted a dis- tinguished part as an English peer. This j^oung nobleman enjoyed so great a degree of Henry's confidence and favour, that he received in marriage his sister Eleanora, countess-dowager of Pembroke. The mar- riage of this princess with a subject and a foreigner, was loudly com- plained of by the earl of Cornwall and all the native barons, but the king's favour and authority alone proved sufficient to support Leices- ter against all his enemies, until his own insinuation and address had won for him a party in the state sufficiently powerful to protect him from insult. He soon, however, experienced the fickleness of Henry's temper, who, for some reason of private offence, banished him the court, but almost immediately afterwards entrusted him with the command of Guienne, where he did good service to his royal master, but exer- cised such severity in his government that the inhabitants sent over commissioners to England for the purpose of impeaching him before the king. Henry, whose feelings had again taken an unfavourable turn towards Montfort, received the commissioners very favourably, and plainly discovered his solicitude that the charges preferred against him might be established. But Montfort had sufficient influence witli his peers to obtain a full acquittal from them of the charges pre- ferred against him by the commissioners, which so exasperated the king that, forgetting his own dignity, he began to load the earl with opprobrious language in the presence of the court which had just pronounced his acquittal. Montfort, naturally proud and passionate, gave the lie to his sovereign, and the affront was never forgotten by Ilenry, although Leicester was again admitted into some degree of fiivour and authority.' ' M. Vans, 5111 5.')ft our sentiments as to tlu,- mo- tives which may have inlluenced Leicester in entering upon that course of boki and dangerous policy whicli resulted in extorting tiie provi- sions of Oxford from the unwilling but overawed monarch. It would lead us into a discussion greatly too long for our present purjjose were we to attempt to settle the question how far ambition, animat- ed by the prospect of a crown brought within his view by his royal alliance, actuated the conduct of Leicester in this matter. The ad- ministration of the twenty-four guardians was a scheme devised, cherish- ed, and chietly supi)orted by the policy and address of Leicester. If ambition was the secret spring of his actions, he met with a fbrmidabk: opponent in the earl of Gloucester who headed a party which, though ostensibly pursuing the same public ends, never failed to set itself in opposition to the personrd interests of Leicester. The success of his rival at one time induced Leicester to retire to France, but upon the death of the former, Leicester again returned to England, and received a new and valuable auxiliary in Gilbert de Clare, the son and successor of Gloucester, who resigned himself entirely to the guidance of the man who had been his father's most powerful rival. Henry had, unexpectedly, resumed his authority in the state, and dis- missed the council of twenty-four ; but the return of Leicester rallied the confederates, and the arbitration of the king of France alone pre- vented an instant civil war. Both parties had solemnly sworn to abide by the decision of the French monarch. And on the 30th of February, 1264, Louis pro- nounced his award enjoining the restoration of all castles, provinces, and royal rights enjoyed by the crown before the parliament of Oxford, on condition of universal amnesty, and of the full enjoyment of the charter. But the barons, who saw in this decision no provision against a return of grievances, instantly rejected it as contrary to truth and justice, and the tianies of civil war burst forth in every part of the kingdom. In the north, and in Cornwall and Devon, the royalists possessed the su- periority; the midland counties, and the marches of Wales were pretty equally divided; but in the Cinque Ports, the metropolis, and the neigh- bouring districts, Leicester governed without opposition. Henry was joined by Comyn, Bruce, and Baliol, the lords of the Scottish borders, and the first successes were gained by the royalists. But on the 14th of May, 1265, the strength of the two parties was fairly tried in battle at Lewes, where the royalists sustained a complete defeat; and the king and his son being subsequently made prisoners, were compelled to con- fer the administration of the kingdom on the earls of Leicester and Gloucester. In this battle about 3000 men are said to have fallen on each side. Prince Edward afterwards escaped, and put himself at the head of the royalists, whose principal strength lay among the lords of the Welsh and Scottish borders. Leicester on his pai't, called in the aid of Llewellyn, prince of Wales. In our historical introduction to this period we have adverted to the question, what share the earl of Leicester probably had in the introduc- tion of the principle of popular representation into the British constitu- tion. Whether he is justly entitled to the praise of this great practical ' P. 170. I- 2 F 226 ECCLESIASTICAL SEEIES. TSecond discovery or not, and whatever might be his real motives in endeavour- ing to enfuse a larger proportion of popular elements into the na- tional councils, it is certain that his measures were hailed by the nation at large as wise and generous, and won for his memory in subsequent generations, the honourable title of Sir Simon the Righteous.^ The escape of Edward proved the signal for a general rising among the royalists, who instantly secured to themselves the command of the Severn, and out-man ceuvred Leicester, who with difficulty made good his retreat into Wales. On the 6th of August, 1265, a bloody battle was fought at Evesham between the prince and Leicester, in which the royalists, who were greatly superior in numbers, obtained a decisive vic- tory. The old king who had been compelled to appear in the field by Leicester, was slightly wounded, and would probably have been killed, had he not cried out to his antagonist, " Hold fellow, I am Henry of Winchester!" The prince caught the voice of his father, sprung to his rescue, and conducted him to a place of safety. Li his absence Leices- ter's horse was killed under him, and as he fought on foot he asked if they gave quarter. A voice replied, " There is no quarter for traitors." Henry de Montfort, his eldest son, fell at his feet; and the dead body was soon afterwards covered by that of the father. Of Leicester's par- tisans all the barons and knights were slain with the exception of about ten. His own body, after being mangled and mutilated, was buried by the king's orders in the church of Evesham abbey. IL ECCLESIASTICAL SERIES. ilanfrant. BORN A. D. 1005. — DIED A. D, 1089. It is impossible to pursue the details of early English history, on the plan we have prescribed to ourselves, without occasionally giving a place in our biographical sketches to notices of some eminent men who, tliough foreigners by birth, became Englishmen by adoption, and ex- ercised a powerful influence over the destinies of our nation by the prominent part which they acted in the church or state. Of such ex- ceptions to our general rule, the present section will contain two or three distinguished instances : and the first we shall select is the cele- brated Lanfranc, archbishop of Canterbury. Lanfranc was an Italian by birth, and born at Pavia in 1005. At the age of thirty-seven he emigrated to Normandy, and soon after as- sumed the monk's habit in the abbey of Bee' Here he opened a school, and in a short time obtained such high reputation as a teacher, that pupils flocked to him from all quarters of Europe. The ' Chron- icon Beccense,' printed at the end of Lanfranc's works, says that he at first gained a hard livelihood in Normandy, and existed for some time in a state of the greatest poverty, yet this ' poor emigrant school - • Fiibian.—Wesr. 395. ' OH. Vii. 5i9. — Dupin, Cent. 11. c. H. Tkriop.j LANFRANC. 227 master,' as Turner remarks, became the acknowledged cause of the revival of Latin literature, and the liberal arts in France.'^ Vitalis's testimony on tiiis point is very direct and conclusive: — " Under this master the Normans first explored the literary arts. Before him, under the six preceding dukes, scarcely any Norman had pursued the liberal studies. They had not a comi)etent teacher till God, the provider of all things, sent Lanfratic into the Norman territory."' His success as a teacher is said to have excited the envy of Berenger, then principal of the j)ublic school at Tours, and afterwards archdeacon of Angers, and to have been the secret motive wliich stimulated that eloquent and eru- dite writer, to eclipse his rival's fame, by becoming the founder of a new sect in the church. To whatever motives Berenger's conduct may be traced, it is certain that the controversy then occasioned was chiefly maintained betwixt himself and Lanfranc. There is reason to believe that the famous Gregory VII. studied at Bee under Lanfranc ; * and we know that Pope Alexander, on Lanfranc's going to Rome to receive the pall, publicly expressed his gratitude for the instructions he had re- ceived from the archbishop while filling the humbler station of pre- ceptor in a Norman abbey. ^ In 1062. William, duke of Normandy, invited him to his court, and made him one of his confidential counsellors,^ and abbot of his newly erected monastery of St Stephen, at Caen. Here he established a new academy, which soon beeanae as much celebrated as his former one at Bee. Soon after William haJ seated himself on the throne of Eng- land, Lanfranc was elevated to the see of Canterbury, in the room of Stigand who had been deposed by the pope's legate. Thomas, canon of Bayeux, was at tlie same time appointed to the see of York. But the two archbishops signalized their elevation by a violent dispute as to their respective pretensions to the primacy of England, which was only settled by the intervention of the king and his council, who decid- ed in favour of Lanfranc, and ordered York to make profession of canonical obedience to his brother of Canterbury, — a decision which was afterwards reviewed and confirmed in two great councils held iri 1072.7 Lanfranc, of course, introduced his doctrinal views into the church of England. It would appear that the dogma afterwards called tran- substantiation was little known in the island previous to the Norman conquest. But Lanfranc had taken too deep an interest in that article of belief not to urge its adoption wherever his influence extended; both before and afler his elevation to the see of Canterbury, he preached, wrote, and disputed in its defence. Its general reception by the Eng- lish priests was probably as much due to the influence of his station as to the subtlety of the logic employed in recommending it. It is diffi- cult to say M hat share Lanfranc took in William's ecclesiastical reforms. He certainly enjoyed for a considerable period the confidence of his sovereign, but the Conqueror was accustomed to exercise his supre- inacy in church and state with a high hand, and probably seldom con- sulted his spiritual chiefs in questions of general polity. We can hardly suppose Lanfranc advising his sovereign to reject the demand of ho- mage made by Gregory V'll., or of his own free choice declining to « Hist, of Eiigl. vul. i. I). 402. » P. 519. ■• Miirat. Ann. Ilal. 897. » Vila J>antV. p. 11. ' Gul. Piutav. 194. ' ]\ialin. p. 117. -Laiifr. opera, p. 3f»0 228 ECCLESIASTICAL SERIES. [Secokb attend on the papal see when summoned to Rome by the holy father.^ It is also matter of history, that our archbishop's interference in some affairs of state lost him the royal favour, and that he was ever after- wards regarded with a jealous eye by the Conqueror, whom he survived only for the space of one year and eight months. Our early historians are loud in the praise of Lanfranc's wisdom, learning, and munificence. His liberality was certainly profuse, and is a sufficient proof of the great revenues of the see of Canterbury in that early age. In one year, his charities are said to have amounted to £500, — a sum equal to £7500 of our present currency.^ He also expended large sums in building and endowing monasteries, and de fending the immunities of the church. A remarkable suit which he successfully prosecuted against Odo, bishop of Bayeux and earl of Kent, put him in possession of no fewer that twenty-five estates which had been unjustly seized by that ambitious prelate. Lanfranc's writings consist of commentaries on St Paul's epistles, sermons on various subjects, letters to the most distinguished person- ages of his time, and his famous treatise on the eucharist, against Be- renger, which has obtained for him the most lavish encomiums from the literary historians of the church of Rome.'° They were collected by tatlier Luke D'Achery, a Benedictine monk, and published at Paris in 1648. Lanfranc was succeeded in his scliool at Bee, and afterwards in his archiepiscopal see, by Anselm, a man of still more distinguished talents, and to whom the early literature of England lies under still more extensive obligations. BORN CIRC. A. n. lOSi DIED CIRC. A. D. 1105. Anselm, who was raised to the see of Canterbury by William Rurus, was a Piedniontese by birth, his native place being Aosta, a town at the ibot of the Alps which then belonged to the duke of Burgundy. He was descended of a considerable family ; and after having finished his studies and travelled for some time in Burgundy and France, he took the monastic habit in the abbey of Bee in Normandy, of which Lan- franc was then prior. When Lanfranc was made abbot of the mon- astery of Caen, in 1062, Anselm succeeded him in the priory of Bee, and when Herluin the abbot of Bee died, Anselm was promoted to the abbacy. The fame of his piety and learning first brought him to England, which he visited about the year 1092, at the invitation of Hugh, earl of Chester, who requested his spiritual consolation in his sickness. Since the death of Lanfranc in 1089, the see of Canterbury had re- mained vacant, the king retaining the revenue in his own hands Falling into a dangerous sickness he was seized with remorse of conscience ; and being importuned by the clergy and nobles to make atonement for the multiplied sacrileges and misdeeds of which he had been guilty, he sent for Anselm to court, who then lived in the • isTca.. Lpist. lib. ix. ep. 20. Gervase, Act. Pom. col. 1G55. f" Hist. Lit. de la P'rance, viii. 2()0— 3(.>o. Period.] ANSELM. 229 neighbourhood of Gloucester, and nominated him to the vacant see of Canterl)iiry. The appointment was far I'rom according with tiie wislies of the pious Itahan ; he earnestly refused the dignity, fell on his knees, wept and entreated the king to change his purpose. The bishops ex- postulated, declaring his refusal to be a desertion of his duty ; the king was urgent and pathetic, asking him " why he endeavoured to ruin him In the other world, which would infallibly happen in case he died before the archbisho{)ric was filled up." Notwithstanding these touching ap- peals, Anselni's scruples were with great difficulty removed ; and when the ])astoral staff and ring were forced ujjon him in the royal presence, he kept his fist so fast clenched — a reluctance rare in modern times — that it required some violence on the part of his friends to open it, and induce him to receive the ensigns of office.' Before his consecration he obtaineil a promise from William for the restitution of all the lands and revenues which his see possessed in Lanfranc's time ; and having thus secured the temporalities of the archbishopric, and done homage to the king, he was consecrated with great solemnity on the 4th of December, 1093. Shortly after his accession, he had a dispute with the bishop of London, as to the right of consecrating churches beyond the bounds of his own diocese. The controversy was referred to Wulstan, bishop of Worcester, the only Saxon prelate then living, who gave his opi- nion in favour of the archbishop's pretensions ; and, in consequence, Anselm performed the ceremony of consecrating churches, and exe- cuting the other parts of his functions, in any of the towns belonging to the see of London, without moving for the consent of the diocesan, riie reputation for piety, which Anselm had already acquired, increased greatly in England, from the vehement zeal with which he preached against abuses of all kinds, more especially those in dress and orna- ment. The fashion which prevailed in that age throughout Europe, both among men and women, was to give an enormous length to their shoes ; to draw the toe to a sharp point, terminating with the figure of a bird's bill, or some such fantastic device, which was turned upwards, and not uncommonly fastened to the knee by chains of gold or silver. The clergy were scandalized at this sort of ornament, which they said was an attempt to belie the Scriptures, which affirm distinctly that no man can add a cubit to his stature. The pulpits denounced it with zealous indignation, and synods were assembled who absolutely con- demned it. Yet such is the strange perversity of human nature, that the eloquence which could overturn thrones, and march armies of cru- saders into the deserts of Asia, could never prevail against the long- pointed shoes I During several centuries, this mode maintained its ground ; and had not the church ceased from her persecution, Euro- peans might have been still walking with their toes chained to their knees. Another extravagance of the toilette, peculiar to the eleventh century, was tiie long hair and curled locks worn by the courtiers. Th.' eloquence of the archbishop w as more successful in decrying thi.s fashion, which would appear not to have taken such fast hold of the people's affections. He refused the ashes on Ash- Wednesday to these frizzled fops, and the consequence of his pious exertions was, that the young men universally abandoned their ringlets, and appeared in the ' .Malm. IS5. --EiKliner, p. !5 — IS. 230 ECCLESIASTICAL SERIES. [Second cropt hair which was recommended to them in the sermons of the primate. The cordiality between Ansehn and the king was but of short duration. William had already cast an ambitious eye on the duchy of Normandy, which he intended to wrest from his brother Robert; and fur this purpose he was endeavouring to raise all the money he could command. Anselm made him a tender of five hundred pounds, a present which the king refused, as too trifling to accept, and in a tone of displeasure, dismissed both the gift and the giver. Another cause of quarrel was the severity of the prelate's harangues against the fa- shions of the court. William's recovery from his illness had left no beneficial impression on his manners ; and when Anselm waited upon him, and desired leave to convene a national synod, with a view to check the disorders of the church and state, as well as the general li- centiousness of the people, the king not only refused his request, but treated him with such incivilities as compelled him and his retinue to withdraw from court. Fearing that the royal displeasure might impair his usefulness, the bishops entreated his majesty to receive him again into favour, and suggested to Anselm, that an offer of five hundred pounds, with a promise of as much more as soon as it could be raised, might restore him to the good graces of the king. This proposal the archbishop rejected, not only on the score of his own poverty, but from the meanness and impropriety of such a step. " God forbid," says he, " I should do any thing to make the world believe my sover- eign's favour is mercenary I 1 owe the king allegiance, and ought to be tender of his honour. How then can I be true to these engage- ments, if I go about to bring an ill report upon his justice, and ofi'er to buy his friendship with a little money like a horse at a fair? At this rate royal favour would be valued no higher than the proportion of the sum. But far be it from me to undervalue a thing of that dig- nity, and to put so paltry a consideration in balance against it! Your way, therefore, will be to persuade the king not to set a price on his reconciliation, but to receive me upon frank and honourable terms, and treat me as his spiritual father ; and, for ray part, I am ready to pay him the duty of a subject. But as for the money, since he was formerly pleased to refuse it, 1 have given it to the poor, and have now nothing more of that kind to ofi'er."^ The king was inexorable, and declared " he would never look upon Anselm as his ghostly father ; that he hated his prayers and benedictions; and, therefore, he might go whi- ther ho pleased." But the most serious cause of discontent between William and Ms archbishop, arose from the disputed succession to ISl Peter's chair. There was at that time a schism in the church between Urban II. and Clement III., who both pretended to the papacy ; and Anselm — who, as abbot of Bee, had already acknowledged tlie former — was determined to introduce his authority into England without the king's consent, who had refused to acknowledge Urban as pope. He even solicited permission to go to Rome and receive the pall at the hands of his holiness. These proceedings exasperated the king more and more, and gave occasion to very warm disputes. To put an end to the; controversy, a council, or convention, was held at Rockingham * Aiit;!. Sai;r, 'i'uiii. i. p. I'J4. Period.] ANSELM. 231 castle. Anseliii, in opeiiiu}^ his cause, remiiiilrd the assembly with what reluctance he had accojjtcd the archbishopric ; that he had made •an express reserve of' his obedience to Pope Urban ; and, tiierefore, it was hard that he should be brout^Iit under difficulties on that account. Tiie bishops told him there was a general coniphiint ajjainst him for intrenciiing on the king's prerogative, and were of opinion he ought to resign Jumself wholly to the royal pleasure. His grace of Dur- ham, who managed the argument for the court, insisted that the no- mination of the pope to the subject was the principal jewel of the crown ; and that by this privilege the kings of England were distin- guished from the rest of the princes of Christendom. The issue of this conference was, that a majority of the prelates, in violation of their canonical obedience, renounced Anselm for their archbishop, and, in consequence, the primate requested permission to go beyond sea till the unfortunate misunderstanding could be matle up. But the king peremptorily refused, and would only consent tiiat there should be a kind of truce, or suspension, of the aflair, from March till Whitsun- tide.^ Long before the expiration of this term, William broke the en- gagement, banished several clergymen who were Anselm's favourites, and miserably harassed the tenants of his see. His intention was to depose Anselm ; but his suffragans declared that, \\ ithout the papal authority, they knew of no expedient for inflicting that punishment on the primate of England. Anselm was exceedingly mortified at the desertion of the prelates, and the ill-treatment he had received, but no entreaty, or remonstrance, could soften him into com])liance. INIean- time, a deputation consisting of three ecclesiastics had been privately despatched to Rome to inquire into the late election, and examine which of the two pretenders was canonically chosen. Finding that Urban was the rightful pontiff, William transferred his allegiance from Clement ; and having thus far gratified the see of Rome, he hoped the pope's legate would return him the favour by procuring the deposition of Anselm. Here, however, he was completely disappointed ; but he had gone too far to retreat. He resolved, tiierefore, to put the best appear- ance on the matter, and, since he could not have his revenge upon the primate, to drop the dispute, and efiect a reconciliation. By the ad- vice of the barons, who had refused to follow the example of the suf- fragans in disclaiming their archbishops, Anselm was restored to favour ujion his own terms; but he still refused to receive the pall from the king's hands. To solve this dilemma, it was at last agreed that the pope's nuncio, who had brought the pall to England — with secret instructions, probably concerning the disposal of it — sliould carry it down to Canterbury, and lay it upon the altar of the cathedral, from whence Anselm was to receive it as if it had been put into his hands by St Peter himself. This ceremony was accordingly performed with great solemnity, in the month of June, 1093. Matters being thus adjusted, it was generally hoped that all oc- casion of difference between the king and the primate was removed ; but it soon appeared that their reconciliation was not cordial. William had undertaken an expedition against Wales, and he required the archbishop to furnish iiis quota of troops for that service ; but Au- • Kadmer, p. 31. selm, who regarded the demand as an oppression on the church, though he durst not "refuse compliance, sent his detachment so miserably ac- coutred and ineflicient, that the king was extremely displeased, and threatened to have him publicly tried for a misdemeanour. To this menace Anselm made no reply, but he demanded positively, that all the revenues of his see should be restored to him, and appealed to Rome against the king's injustice. Intending to consult his holiness in person, he solicited permission to leave the kingdom, which the king refused with a bitter sarcasm, " that he could not imagine the archbishop had been guilty of any crime that needed the pope's abso- lution, and as for consultation, he had so good an opinion of his judg- ment, that he considered him every jot as well qualified to give advice to the Romish pontiff as to receive it." He then applied to the bishops to intercede for him, but with no better success. " We know you," said these worldly-minded prelates, " to be a very religious and holy man, and that your conversation is wholly in heaven ; but as for ourselves, we must confess, our relations and secular interests are a clog upon us, insomuch that we cannot rise up to those seraphic flights, nor trample on the world with the noble contempt that you do. If you please to stoop to our infirmities, and content yourself with our methods and management, we will solicit your cause with the same heartiness we do our own. But if you are all spirituality, and have nothing but the church in view, all we can do is to preserve our former regards to you, and that with a reserve of acting nothing which may intrench upon our allegiance to the king." Notwithstanding this, Anselm resolved upon the voyage, and after taking a ceremonious leave of the court, . he embarked at Dover, whence he got safely to Rome, and was hon- ourably received by the pope. When the king heard he had crossed the channel, he seized on all his temporalities, and made void every thing he had done. During his stay in Rome, which was short, An- selm accompanied Urban to a country-seat near Capua, whither his holiness retired to avoid the unhealthiness of the town. Here he M'rote a book, in which he gave an account of our Saviour's inctarna- tion, and preached in different parts of Italy with so good effect, that he offered to resign his see, believing he might be more serviceable to ••eligion in a more private station. But the pope would by no means consent to such a step, and charged him, upon his obedience, never to quit his title, or abandon his office. He was treated with great les^pect by Urban, who considered him a martyr in the cause of truth, and even threatened the English monarch, on account of his proceedings against the arclibishop and the church, with the sentence of excom- munication. He wrote to William in a strain of authority, requiring him to reinstate Anselm in all the profits and privileges of his see ; while his majesty, on the other hand, endeavoured to get the primacy discountenanced abroad, and for that purpose, corresponded with Roger, duke of Apulia, and others; but this attempt had no effect in dimin- ishing his popularity at the court of Rome. His assistance was of considerable service to the pope at the famous council of Bari, which was held for opposmg the errors of the Greek church, with respect to the Holy Ghost ; and when the right of election to church preferment was declared to belong to the clergy alone, and spiritual censures were •!, :;o'.inced a"-ainst ail ccciosiastirs who dlil homage to laymen for their I'BniOD.J ANSELM. 233 sees or hciipHcos, and against all laymen who exacted it. In this synod, Ansiliu has the praise of having answered the objections of the Greek fathci-s, and managed tlie argument with so much judgment, learning, and penetration, that he completely silenced his atlversarics, and gave general satisfaction to the western church. In the same council h^ is said to have interposed, to prevent Urban from pronouncing sentcsnce of excommunication against the king of England, for his frequent out- rages against religion ; but his generosity met with a very sorry re- quital. On his return to Rome, he found an ambassador from England had arrived, in order to disprove Anselm's allegations and complaints against his master. The pope lent but an inditlerent ear to the de- fences and n^petitions of the messenger. The historian of Malmsbury tells us, with a good deal of satire, and perhaps of truth, that his holiness was under some dillieulty and irresolution about the matter; that, for some time, he hung in suspense between conscience and inter- est, but at last his scruples were overbalanced by the receipt of a hand- some sum of money, and the promise of something additional, — con- siderations which have often led to the sacrifice, both of justice and honour. Finding that the court of Rome had deserted him, Anselm would have returned to Lyons, but the pope would not admit his de- parture, and by way of compensation for his disappointments, he allow- ed him the use of a splendid palace, where he frequently honoured him with a visit. A council having been summoned to sit at Rome, An- selm had a very honourable seat assigned him and his successors, this being the first time that an archbishop of Canterbury had appeared in a Roman synod. His case was pointedly alluded to by the bishop of Lucca, who remonstrated against the delays in doing him justice. When the council broke up, he immediately repaired to Lyons, where he was entertained for some time by Hugo, the archbishop ; and here he re- mained till the death both of King William and the pope, which hap- pened not long after. Henr}' I. having restored the re\'enues and prerogatives of the sees of Canterbury, Winchester, and Salisbury, which had been seized by his predecessor, and scnsil)le of the great authority which Anselm had acquir- ed by his character for piety, and the persecutions he had sulFei'ed under William, sent repeated messages to Lyons, inviting him to return to England and take possession of his dignities. The king went so far as to excuse himself for being crowned by another prelate, Maurice, bishop of London, having in his absence ventured to officiate on that occasion. Anselm was received with extraordinary respect, both by the king and the people; and matters went on smoothly enough until Henry proposed to him the renewal of that homage which he had done his brother, and which had nevei' been refused by any English bishop. Anselm had acquired other sentiments by his journey to Rome, and he gave the king a direct refusal, alleging the decrees of the synod of Bari, which excommunicated all ecclesiastics who should receive investitures from lay hands, and that, so far from doing homage for his spiritual dignity, he would not communicate with any of the clergy who should yield to pay that submission, or receive promotion from a layman. Henry, who w;is not yet firmly settled on the throne, and had expected to reap great advantages from the authority and influence of Anselm, durst not insist on his demand ; he only desired that the controversy might he I. 2 r. 234 ECCLESIASTICAL SERIES. [Second suspended till the Easter following, and that messengers might be sent to Rome, in order to accommodate matters with the pope, and try, if possible, if they could persuade his holiness to dispense with the canons of the late synod, in regard to investitures in England. During this truce, the important affair of Matilda's marriage, — already noticed in our sketch of Henr^' I. — occurred. Anselm had soon after another opportunity of being of signal service to Henry, when England was invaded by Robert, duke of Normandy, who landed with a formidable army at Ports- mouth. In this emergency, the archbishop not only furnished the king with a large body of men, but was likewise very active in preventing revolt from spreading among the chiefs and nobles. He assured them of the king's sincerity in those professions he had made of avoiding the tyrannical and oppressive government of his father and brother ; he even rode through the ranks of the army, recommended to the soldiers the defence of their prince, represented to them the duty of keeping their oaths of allegiance, and prognosticated the great happiness that must result from the government of so wise and just a sovereign. By this expedient added to the influence of some of the leading nobility, the barons and the army were retained in the king's interest. Having con- quered Normandy, Henry had leisure to finish the controversy which had long been depending between him and the pope, with regard to the in- vestitures in ecclesiastical benefices; and though he was here obliged to relinquish some of the ancient rights of the crown, he extricated himself from the difficulty on easier terms than most princes, who in that age were so unhappy as to be engaged in disputes with the apostolic see. The king's situation in the beginning of his reign had obliged him to pay great court to Anselm; and the advantages he had reaped from his zeal might have laid the foundation of a lasting friendship, had the quarrel about investitures been previously arranged. But the agents which he had sent to Rome, in order to compound the matter with Pascal H. returned with an absolute refusal of the king's demands. Pascal quoted scripture, and reasoned on the monstrous proposal of in- troducing ecclesiastics into the church, through civil magistrates or profane laymen. These arguments could not convince Henr3^, or per- suade him to resign so important a prerogative. In this dispute the majority of the bishops and temporal nobility were on the court side, and some of them urged the king to break entirely with the court of Rome. This dangerous extremity, however, he was anxious to avoid, or at least to delay ; and therefore, with the consent of Anselm, he pro- posed to make a trial of further negotiation with the pope; three bishops were despatched to Rome, with instructions to offer his holiness this alternative, — either to depart from his former declaration, and relax in the point of investitures, or be content with the banishment of Anselm, as well as to lose the obedience of the English, and the yearly profits accruing from that kingdom. At tlie same time Anselm sent two monks, messengers of his own, to inform the pope of the real state of matters, and be more fully assured of that pontiff's intentions. The representations of the English ambassadors were of no avail ; their royal master, they said, would rather part with his crown than renounce th*> right of granting investitures. " And I," replied Pascal, " would rather lose my head, than allow him to retain it." The letters which ^f^ wrote bark were equally positive and arrogant, both to tlie king and the pri- Period.] ANSELM. 235 mate; acciisinj^ the forinor, by a-ssuiiiiiii; such riglits, of committin*^ a kiiifl of spiritual adultery with thi; (;hurcli, who was the spouse of Christ; and insisting with tiie latter that the pretension of kings to confer bene- fices was the source of all simony, llenry had now no other expedient tiian to suppress the letter sent to himself, and induce the three bishops to prevaricate, and assert upon their episcopal honour, that Pascal I. had assured them, at a private audience, of his good intentions towards Henry; and that if his majesty gave satisfaction to the court of Rome in other matters, the church would indulge him in the j)rivilege of investi- tures, and not excommunicate him for giving bishops and abliots the pastoral staff; and that the reason why his holiness had not mentioned this favour in his bull was, lest it should come to the knowledge of other princes, who M'ould be apt to insist on the same prerogatives. Anselm's two monks gave a different account of the embassy, and asserted that the pope had given no verbal answer in contradiction to his own letters, anil that there could be no secret negotiation without their privity. The barons and nobility were divided, some maintaining that the testi- mony of the monks ought to be received, and that the hand and seal of the pope could not be questioned. Others were of opinion that the parole evidence of these prelates ought to be taken before that of a scroll of parchment, blackened over with ink, with a bit of lead at the end of it. The latter sentiment prevailed; and the king, as if he had finally pained his cause, proceeded to fill the sees o" Hereford and Salisburx'-, and to invest the new bishops in the usual manner. But Anselm gave no credit to the asseverations of the king's messengers, and refused not only to consecrate tlie new prelates, but even to communicate with them, while the bishops themselves finding how odious they were be- come, returned to Henry the ensigns of their dignity. The quarrel every day increased, the king menacing any who should oppose him in the exercise of the ancient prerogatives of the crown. Anselm hereupon desired leave to make a journey to Rome to lay the case before the sovereign pontiff, a permission which Henry readily granted, being well pleased to rid himself without violence, of so in- flexible an antagonist. The archbishop was attended to the shore by infinite multitudes, not only of monks and clergymen, but people of all ranks, who scrupled not in this manner to declare for their primate against their sovereign. The king immediately seized all the revenues of his see, and sent William de Warelvvast to negotiate with Pascal, and try to bring this troublesome afl'air to some accommodation. All he could procure was a very ceremonious letter from his holiness to the king of England, entreating liim to waive this contest, and promising all reasonable compliance in other matters. Anselm finding it not prudent or safe to return, unless he was resolved to conform to the laws and usages of the kingdom, took up his residence at Lyons, in the hope that Henry would at last be obliged to yield the point. In this he was mistaken : the king persisted in his claims, notwithstanding the pope had exconmiunicated some of the English court who had espoused the cause of the crown, and even threatened Henry himself with the ban of the church. Perceiving little chance of a speedy decision, the pri- mate removed from Lyons, and made a visit to the countess Adela, the Conqueror's daughter, at her castle in Blois. Tlie princess inquiring into the business of his journcyj lie told her that after a great deal of 236 ECCLESIASTICAL SERIES. [Skcond trouble and patience he must now be forced to excommunicate the king of England. Alarmed at the prospect of her brother's eternal dam- nation, the countess, who was a lady of great piety, wrote to Pascal, earnestly soliciting an accommodation.* Meantime Henry had arrived in Normandy, and hearing that Anselm intended to excommunicate him, he desired his sister to bring him with her, promising also to relax in several articles. Anselm accordingly waited on the king at his cas- tle of Aigle, where he was received with great respect; and with the view of subduing his opposition, he had the revenues of his see restored to him, but he was not permitted to return to England unless he would agree to comply in the matter of investitures. The long absence of the archbishop gave the people and the prelates of England occasion of severe remonstrance on the score of his neglecting the interests of his diocese. While at Lyons he received a sharp epistle from a monk, ac quainting him with the lamentable condition of the province of Canter- bury; that all places were over-run with violence and injustice, — that the churches were harassed and oppressed, and the consecrated virgins violated, — that if the archbishop had maintained the ancient discipline, such disorders had not happened, but by quitting the kingdom he had given great advantages to the enemies of religion, and let in the wolves upon the sheep. He took the freedom to acquaint the primate that his conduct had formed a very unfortunate precedent, and that the blackest prospect of torture and death could not have excused his withdrawing himself. During his stay in Normandy, the same complaints were re- newed; letters from his friends and suffragans in England were repeat- edly sent, setting forth the deplorable state of the church, and urging the necessity of his speedy return. The total extinction of Christianity, they told him, was likely to ensue from the want of his fatherly care ; that the most shocking customs prevailed in England; the wearing of long hair and pointed shoes had gained ground amongst all ranks of men, besides other vices two odious to mention ; and that from the dread of his severity being removed, these enormities openly appeared every where, without sense of shame or fear of punishment. Anselm told the bishops that, however willing, it was not in his power to return, till the proceedings of the court of Rome should have come to a termination. He was sorry to be informed of the decline of piety and discipline, and had remonstrated with the king for converting the sins of the clergy into a source of private emolument. Among other violations of the canons during his absence, was the carnality of the priests and secular monks, who had been enjoined celibacy by the late synod of London, but the favourable opportunity had tempted them to break through the injunc- tions of the church, and many of them were married. This liberty the king, who took every method of collecting money, turned to his advan- tage by compelling them to pay a fine. Anselm remonstrated against this invasion of his jurisdiction as equally criminal with the marriage of the clergy; and assured Henry that money raised by such indefenci- ble means would not only be unserviceable for temporal purposes, but endanger his eternal salvation. At length the pope condescended to make some advances towards gratifying the king of England, and sent a decision more agreeable th^rj the former; and though he would not * !''.a(Uiicr, p. 79- Pkriod.J ANSELM. 237 give up the point of investitures, he dispensed so far as to give tlie bisliops and abbots leave to do homa,t;o for th(iir teini)oraIities. This decision separated a cpiestion wliicli had h)ng been confounded, and oc- casioned many wars and negotiations between the pope and the sover- eii,sn.l.— Piisi Vit. Pas.al II. 238 ECCLESIASTICAL SEEIES. [Second deal writer who started so many metaphysical questions, or argued witb the appearance of so much logic as he has done. He was the first also who composed long prayers in the form of meditations. His letters are written in a less elaborate style ; neither are they so correct as his, other works. His exhortations are plain homilies, interspersed with a great many mystical notions, in which there is neither much rhetoric nor morality. He does not seem to have been a great master in primi- tive divinity, though he had read St Augustine's works, and borrowed many principles from them." As to his character, Malmesbury tells us he was a person of great strictness and self-denial; his temper and se- dateness were such, that after he turned monk he never was heard to utter the least reproachful word. The history of this prelate's life is important as affording a striking view of the grand object of the dis- putes between the popes and the princes of that age ; and though he was undoubtedly a man of talent and piety, he was an obstinate partisan of the catholic church, whose interests he had more at heart and understood better than either the princijiles of civil govern- ment or the constitution of England. In the reign of Henry VH Anselm was canonized at the instance of Cardinal Morton, then arch- bishop of Canterbury. Like other saints, he became a famous worker of miracles. John of Salisbury tells us of a Flemish nobleman that was cured of a leprosy by drinking the water in which this holy man had washed his hands in celebrating the mass. The same author adds, that he extinguished fires, calmed tempests, and healed diseases, merely by making the sign of the cross; that he rescued a hare which had taken refuge under his horse's feet by commanding the dogs not to pursue her any more; that two soldiers were cured of an ague, by tasting the crumbs of some bread he had been eating; that by dint of prayer he produced a spring of excellent water at the very summit of a hill, for the relief of certain villagers; and that a ship in which he sailed having a large hole in one of her planks, nevertheless took in no water so long as he remained on board I His tomb was also endowed wdth miraculous virtues, and we are gravely assured tliat a monk of Canterbury was re- stored to health, by paying his devotions at the spot; that one born dumb, blind, and deaf, received sight, hearing, and speech, by the same means ; that a soldier was cured of a dropsy, by w^inding the saint's girdle about his body; and that the same girdle was successfully em- ployed in assisting women in child-birth. These idle stories are scarce- ly deserving of notice, and the recital of them can only serve to show the credulity of the age in which the accounts of them were written. Like other fables of the same kind, they are the invention of bigots, who lived long subsequent to the pretended wonders they relate; the mira- culous virtues of Anselm were not discovered till nearly a hundred years after his decease. DIED A. D. 1159. Adrian IV,, whose original name was Nicholas Brekespere, was the only Englishman who ever occupied the papal throne. He was Peiuod.] pope ADRIAN IV. 239 bori) at Langley, near St Albans, in Hertfordshire, towards the close of the eli>venth century. His father, Robert de Caniere. \va.s a do- mestic servitor in the monastery of St Albans, and ultimately a brother. Nicholas, while a youth, was obliged to ])erform the most menial offi- ces for his daily bread. After some years spent in this way, he ex- pressed a wish to take the habit of the monastery ; but his poverty not having permitted him to obtain the recpiisite knowledge at the schools, the abbot, Riciiard, rejected him. " Wait my son," said he, " till you are better qualiiied." Such, at least, is the account which Matthew Paris gives us of this affair. Pitts, however, attributes young Bnjke- spere's disgrace not to his lack of knowledge, but to the abbot's want of judgment ; and considering Adrian's known talents, and what is still more to the purpose, the very moderate share of information which was necessary to qualify a man for a monastery in those days, this seems the more probable account of the two. " Adrian was," says Pitts, " a handsome and comely youth, of a sharp wit and ready utter- ance ; circumspect in all his words and actions; polite in his behaviour; neat and elegant; full of zeal for the glory of God, and that according to some degree of knowledge ; so possessed of all the most valuable en- dowments of mind and body, that in him the gifts of heaven exceeded nature ; his piety exceeded his education ; and the ripeness of his judg- ment, and his other qualifications, exceeded his age." Without stop- ping to inquire whether he really possessed all these endowments, hu- man and angelical, natural and preternatural, or whether the abbot was too blind to perceive them, certain it is that he was refused the habit. His father, who had first abandoned him to want, now reproached him with idleness, and young Brekespere resolved to seek his fortune on a foreign soil. He accordingly visited Paris, where, though poor and destitute, he prosecuted his studies with unremitting assiduity. He then removed to Provence, and became servitor in the monastery of St Rufus, near Avignon. Here his affable manners and obliging disposi- tion, his diligence in study, and, above all, the profound respect which he paid to his superiors, soon commended him to the good will of the monks ; and he was not only admitted into the brotherhood, but, upon the death of the abbot William, in 1137, was unanimously chosen to succeed him. But as the newly elected abbot seemed disposed to exact obedience quite as rigidly as he had paid it, and to enforce the monastic disci- pline with as much strictness as he had observed it himself, he soon forfeited his former reputation, and excited amongst the monks a hos- tility, at least as strong as their former regard. They began to discover that that severe propriety of deportment, and that love of order which made him an invaluable servant, rendered him an intolerable master, and they accordingly brought various accusations against him before Pope Eugenius HI. To meet them, Nicholas repaired to Rome. The pope, upon examination, not only pronounced him innocent, but, dis- covering his great talents, took him under his immediate patronage. " This man," said he significantly to the factious fraternity of St Ru- fus, " shall be no burden to you." After this, he rose with astonish- ing rapidity. In the year 1 J 46, he was created cardinal, — bishop of Alba. In 1148, he went as legate to Denmark and Norway, where he was eminently successful in the conversion of these barbarous nations 240 ECCLESIASTICAL SERIES. [Seco>u> to the christian faith, such as it then was, that is, he induced those savage idolaters to exchange one system of superstition for another. On his return to Rome, he was received by the pope and cardinals with the highest honours. Soon after this, Anastasius, the short-lived suc- cessor of Eugenius, died, and Nicholas, in 1 154, at or.ce attained the papal crown, taking the name of Adrian. No sooner did Henry II., king of England, h'iar of tlie exaltation of his once obscure subject, than he sent Robert, abbot of St Albans, with three bishops to Rome, to ofter his congratulations, and to admi- nister a little sage advice as to the manner in which Adrian should sustain his new character. The letter he wrote is indeed a very singular one, and not altogether consistent with that modesty with which a merely secular prince ought always to address the infallible vicegerent of heaven I It forms a strange contrast with that humble application which the same monarch made to him only a twelvemonth after, when he wanted the pope's blessing on an enterprise of most barefaced injustice and oppres- sion. He advised him — needless suspicion I — not to be biassed by any secular regards in the disposal of ecclesiastical preferments ; to take care, since God had raised him to the summit of spiritual greatness, to shine forth with exemplary conduct. The abbot of St Albans had brought witii him several valuable presents. It was but a small part of them, however, that Adrian could be induced to accept, jocosely alleg- ing as his reason for refusing the rest, — " I will not accept your gifts, because when I wished to take the habit of your monastery, you would not accept me." The abbot, who perfectly understood the difference between Nicholas Brekespere, the son of a servitor, and Adrian IV., rej^lied, " It was not for us to oppose the will of Providence, which had destined you for greater things." In return for this and other compli- ments, Adrian conferred upon the monastery of St Albans the singu- lar privilege of exemption from all ecclesiastical jurisdiction, except that of Rome. The very next year, as we have already hinted, king Henry sent a still more flattering embassy to the pope. It was to ask his permission to attempt the conquest of Ireland. Thus to gratify momentary ambition, this monarch — and most of the monarchs of Christendom were guilty of the same conduct at one time or another, when they wished to serve a selfish purpose — distinctly acknowledged the papal prerogative of disposing of kingdoms, and of sanctioning or interdicting the enterprises of secular princes. Tiiis, in time, led to its own punishment ; civil governments deserved to feel the weight of that yoke which they had first fastened on their own necks, and to chafe beneath the pressure of that iron-curb by which they had so often sought to straiten the liberty of others. When we pander to the bad passions of men, it is but just that we should sometimes become their victims. Adrian was not a man to wait for a second application. He appears to have conceived a very comprehensive idea of the extent of the papal prerogative, and to have been disposed to exercise it more vigorously than any of his predecessors. He, of course, immediately sent the English monarch his fatherly benediction, accompanied by an ample bull, masking, as usual, this abominable license of the ambition of others, and his desire to gratify his own, under a pretence of zeal for the welfare of the church, and the extension of Christianity ; and invoking, of course, the divine blessing on this iniquitous scheme Pi.:kioi..1 pope ADRIAN IV'. 2 41 of selfish rapacity. The followiii<^ are sentences in this infamous bull: — " Adrian, bishoj), servant of" the servants of God, to his most dear son in Cln-ist, tlic iihistrious king of" Kngianc^, scndctli gnu'ting and apostoli- cal benediction We are conlidiiit that, I)y the blessing o? God, the success will answer the wisdom and discretion of the nnder- takiuix. You have advertised us, dear s(»n, of your intended exjxdition into Ireland, to reduce that peojjle to the obedience of that christian faith We, theref"ore, being willing to assist you in tliis pious and laudable design, and consenting to your petition, do grant you full lib(!rty to make a descent upon that island, in order to enlarge the borders of tlie church, t*v:c. &c.. for indeed it is ccrtam, as your highness acknowledges, that all the islands enlightened by Christ are unquestionably St Peter's right, and belong to the holy Roman church . . ." Henry, in order to insure tlie concur- rence of the pope, appealed to his avarice as well as to his ambition, promising liim the due payment of the Peter's pence for every house throughout the territory which conquest might add to his dominions. Adrian manifested the same ambitious disposition tiiroughout the whole of his pontificate. When monarchs were not quite so willing to acknowledge his sway as Henry of England, he attempted to coerce them into obedience. No sooner, indeed, had he seated himself in tlic papal chair, than he launched his lightnings against the Roman people, who, at the instigation of Arnold of Brescia, were endeavouring to re- gain their ancient liberties, and to restore the authority of tlie senate. Adrian was not a man likely to abandon the contest. He dismissed the deputies who came to assert the rights of the people in haughty silence, and commanded the senators to banish Arnold. At length, provoked by an assault which the populace made on one of his cai'di- r.als, Gerard of St Pudentiana, he put the whole city under an inter- dict : and to the consternation of the people, all religious functions were suspended. This step was decisive ; the infant spirit of liberty quailed before the terrors which superstition inspired ; the reformers v/ere banished from the city ; and the people acknowledged the sove- reignty of the pojje.' The very same year, Frederic, king of the Ro- mans, tasted of the like discij)line. The pope liad an interview with that monarch at Sutrium, for the purpose of negotiating a peace. Not content with the ])unctilious observance of every other customary honour, his holiness insisted that Frederic should hold tlie stirrup when he alighted. Tlie king at first refused ; but the haughty pontiff was inflexible. He refused to dispense with this degrading act of homage, and, after a long conference, Frederic was induced to comply with it.'' This submission appeased his holiness, and he graciously consented to confer upon his vassal the imperial crown. About tlie same timt, Adrian exorcised his prerogative on William, king of the two Sicilies, whom the pope had represented as a vassal of the Roman see, and re- fusing him the title of king, had insultingly styled him, ' Lord of Si- cily.' This provoked a war in which the papal troops were defeated Tile pope then resorted, with his usual success, to his spiritual wea])ens. ' Fleiiry. ' •' Tlii's homage," says Giblwii, " was paid by kings to archbisliops, and by vassal? to their lords; and it was the nicest policy of Rome to cniifouiid the iiiaiks of lilial and feiidid subjection. I. 2 H 242 ECCLESIASTICAL SERIES. rSKCo>TJ Exoommunication brought the refractory monarch to his senses ; and (lie king consented not only to receive his crown at the hands of the pope, but to pay him an annual tribute. Circumstances connected with this quarrel renewed the pope's differences with the emperor Frederic. After giving eacli other mutual provocations, Adrian had the impru- dence and insolence to boast that he had conferred on Frederic his crown. The emperor, as well as all the princes anrl bishops of tiie empire, deeply resented this language. The papal legates were sent back in dishonour to Kome, and the bishops ])rotested in terms so strong as convinced the pope that he had asserted claims which he was quite unable to sustain. He, therefore, retracted the offensive expressions, in a letter full of miserable subterfuges and evasions. The quarrel, however, soon broke out again, and remained undecided at Adrian's death. This event took place in the year 1159, at Anagni. Adrian left behind him some letters and homilies.^ Little is knoAvn of the pi'ivate life of this pontiff; it is not, however, likely that one whose public conduct was marked by such pride, haugh tiness, and ambition, should have been in private distinguished for the softer virtues. He was evidently possessed of that decision of charac- ter, that inflexibility of purpose, that confidence in his own powers, that superiority to trifling and frivolous pursuits, and that severity of manners, which generally distinguish men of lofty ambition. As usual, he felt that power and dignity are not necessarily connected with hap- piness ; and he had the honesty to avow it. To John of Salisbury, his old friend, who boldly reproved his pride and tyranny, he acknowledged "^hat his " crown seemed to have been put burning on his head." He forgot, however, to add, that all this was the necessary consequence, as it was the just punishment, of his insolent pride and his restless am- bition. BORN A. D. 1119. — DIED A. V. 1170. Thomas Becket, so famous in ecclesiastical history for his mar- tyrdom and miracles, was born in London in the year 1119. His father Gilbert was a merchant, and some time sheriff of that city. A romantic story is narrated by Brompton of his mother Maud, or Matilda, whom he represents as a Saracen lady of considej-able quality. Gilbert, according to this author, had, in his youth, visited Jerusalem, where he was taken prisoner by the infideLs, luid treated with great severit}'. He had the good fortune, however, to attract the favour of his master, and subsequently to make an impression on the heart of his daughter, who, captivated with his conversation and his religion, told him franklv .she intended to turn Christian and abandon her native country for his sake. This declaration .suqirised the English merchant; but his doubts about her sincerity led liim to treat tlie proposal with indifference. Finding an opportunity of breaking his chains he made his escape. * Coii:quired him to render all the accounts of his administration while chancellor, and to paj' the balance due from the revenues of all the |)relacies, abbacies and baronies which had, during that time, been subjected to his management. As this demand was totally unexpected, and required some delay, Becket requested leave to consult his suf- fragans in an afi'air of such intricacy. To pay or find security for a sum which, by the king's estimate, amounted to 44,000 marks, was impracticable ; and the bishops were extremely at a loss what counsel to give him. By the advice of the bishop of Winchester, he ofi'ered 2,000 marks as a genera! satisfaction for all demands, but the otier was rejected. Some prelates exhorted him to resign his see, on condition of receiving an acquittal, while others were of opinion that he ought to submit himself entirely to the king's mercy. The bishop of Exeter thought that since the seas ran high they ought to furl their sails : and as the persecution was not general, but levelled at a single ptirson, it were better to throw their pilot over board than sufi'er the whole church of England to perish in the storm. Roger of Worcester would not venture to give an advice in this case ; lor, if he should assert that a prelate ought to succumb to a king, he would speak against his con- science ; and, if he said the i-everse, he nnght incur the risk of suspen- I. 2 1 250 ECCLESIASTICAL SERIES. [Second sion, or banishment. The bishop of Ely had a stwke of palsy, and could not attend, which led William of Norwich to wish he had been screened by the same misfortune, as God, he thought, had sent his brother of Ely a very happy excuse. Under these difficulties Becket's first determination was to brave all his enemies ; to trust for protection to the sacredness of his character, and identify his cause with that of religion. In performing mass, he took care that the whole service should pointedly bear upon the recent occurrences. He directed the introit to the communion to begin with these words, " Princes sat and spoke against me ;" hoping that, in the j)assage appointed fur the mar- tyrdom of St Stephen, some resemblance might be ti'aced to his own sufferings for righteousness' sake. From church he went to court, ar- rayed in his pontifical robes. As soon as he arrived within the palace- gate, he took the cross into his own hands, bore it aloft as his protec- tion, and marched in that attitude into the royal apartments. The king was astonished at this jjarade, imagining he and his court were to be excommunicated, and sent some of the prelates to remonstrate with him on his audacious behaviour. On being reminded of his having subscribed the constitutions of Clarendon, and of his present conduct being in violation of those laws, he replied, that though he had sworn to observe them " legally, with good faith, and without fraud or reservation," these words virtually implied a proviso for the rights of his order, which could never be relinquished by oaths or engage- ments. If he and they had erred in resigning their ecclesiastical privi- leges, the best atonement they could make, he said, was to retract their consent, which, in such a case, could never be obligatory. But the bishops felt no disposition to recant, and told him, that. though they had hitherto acknowledged and obeyed him as their primate, they could no longer consider him under that character, since he had so grossly failed in his duty to the king, and broken the laws he had sworn to obs(!rve. Henry had now succeeded beyond his wishes, and would probably have ]iushed matters to the utmost extremity against Becket, but that prelate gave him no leisure to conduct the prosecu- tion. The earl of Leicester, in name of the barons, had diarged him with high-treason in breaking the constitutions of Clarendon, and was y)reparing to ])ronounce sentence, when Becket rose and told them they were laymen, and had no authority to sit in judgment upon their archbishop ; upon which he walked out of court without waiting to hear the sentence. His departure called forth reproaches of perjurj and treason from some of the members ; to these he replied, turning back with a stern look, that but for the restraints of his character, and his regard for religion, he would have disproved their calumnies and defended his honour witii the sword.^ In this forlorn situation, deserted by his brethren, and finding all hopes of accommodation at an end, he private!}' withdrew from Northampton, and travelled on foot and in dis- guise to Lincoln, attended by only two servants. From that city he reached a small solitary island, where he remained three days ; and thence, after travelling a week, he arrived at a small town, dependant on the church of Canterbury, v/here his extreme weariness obliged him to stop for some time, lying concealed in a chamber belonging to an 5 (Jrrvds-.e, la-VO.— Dic.jto, 537. Period.! THOMAS A BECKET. 251 f.cclesiastic f.o whom he discovered himself. After a great deal of fa- tigue, he reached tiie eoast, and getting on board a vessel, he arrived at Gravelines in Holland. His perils and niisfurtunes did not end with liis (>seape. Upon his arrival in Flanders, not being willing to make himself known, he journeyed on foot through bad roads, and in a very :ainy season, until liis strength being quite spent, he fell to the ground anil eould walk no farther. His few attendants, with some ditiieulty, procured him a very bad horse, without bridle or saildle, upon whiel) tiiey threw their cloaks. In this j)light he was met by some soldiers, who, having heard of his flight, asked him if he was not the arch- bishop of Canterl>ury ? With great presenc^e of mind he replied, " This is not the equipage of an archbishop ;" upon which he was allowed to pa^s. At Gravelines the innkeeper where he lodged having also heard of his escape, and considering tlie manners and behaviour of his guest, imagined this must be the person, and immediately throwing himself at his feet, entreated his blessing. Bocket being satisfied of the man's sincerity, disclosed himself without reserve, and was entertained by him with great respect and hospitality. Continuing his journey to St Omer, he there found an asylum in the monastery of St Britin, the abbot and the monks receiving him with the greatest affection. The violence of persecution generally defeats its own purpose, and of- ten turns the tide of public sympathy in favour of the oppressed. The English began to overlook the perfidy and ingratitude of Becket, and abroad he was honoured as a martyr. There were, besides, political reasons for the countenance and protection he met with on the conti- nent. Philip, earl of Flanders, and Louis, king of France, jealous of the rising greatness of Henry, were well pleased to stir up disturbance in his government. They affected to pity the condition of the exiled primate. Louis invitinl him to fix his residence at iSoissons, where he oven honoured him with a visit, and oHered him a maintenance suit- able to his dignity. This lattei proposal the archbishop declined, and, soon afterwards, repaired to Sens, where he had an interview with the pope, into whose hands, at a private audience, he resigned the see of Canterbury, alleging that his election was not canonical, but was im- mediately restored by his holiness, who promised to take care of him and his interests, and, by a bull, pretended to abrogate tlie sentence which the great council of England had passed against him. Mean- time Henry, in revenge, proceeded to acts of extreme rigour against tiie obnoxious prelate. He immediately confiscated the revenues of his archbishopric ; he sent embassies to the king of France and the earl of Flanders, to prevail with these princes not to afford Becket shelter in their dominions. But the attempt entirely failed. Louis was shocked when he heard the primate styled the late archbishop, and asked who had deposed him ? " I am a king," said he, " no less than your master, and yet I have no authority to deprive the meanest clerk in my dominions." Moreover, he desjiatehed his almoner to Sens, conjur- ing the pope, if he had any regard for the honour of the Catholic church, or the friendship and assistance of France, that he would do his utmost to protect Thomas of Canterbury against tlie tyrant oi England. Not succeeding at the French court, Henry sent a magni- ficent embassy to the pope to explain the charges against the archbishop, and request his holiness to send legates over to England to effect. If 252 ECCLESIASTICAL SERIES. [Secone possible, ail accommodation. Alexander gave this splendid retinue ol bishops and nobles a cold reception, and allowed them to depart with- out any satisfactory answer. Henry was exceedingly indignant to find his policy comjjletely abortive. By a conduct at once arbitrary and cruel, he banished all the archbishop's relations and domestics to the number of four hundred, sparing neither age nor sex, for women and infants, the sick and the infirm, were involved in the proscription, and driven beyond sea.^ To aggravate their punishment, these unfortunate exiles were compelled to take oath that they would immediately join their patron in Normandy, where he then resided in the abbey of Pon- tigny. An order at the same time was published in England, forbid- ding all persons to correspond with Becket, or send him money, or so much as pray for him in the churches. This rigour, intended to re- duce the refractory primate sooner to necessity, lost its ett'ect ; the pope absolved the refugees from their oath, and got them comfortably distri- buted among the convents in France and Flanders. Becket himself was enal)le(l to live in great splendour, in the convent of Poutigny, partly from a pension granted him on the revenues of that abbey, and partly from considerable remittances made him by the French king. He even ventured to expostulate with Henry in a le'^ter which he wrote, reminding him that kings had no authority but what they received from tlie church ; urging him as he valued the interests of his own soul, not to infringe the rights he had sworn at his coronation to defend ; and tlireatening him with divine vengeance unless he made instant restitution of the castles, townships and manors which had. been violently taken from his clerks and tenants. In another epistle to the bishops of Eng- land, he complained of their not taking part with him against the wicked, as seeking to please men rather than serve the church of God. He acquainted them that the pope had annulled the constitutions of Claren- don, and released them from their obligation to observe those unrighte- ous laws. In order to heighten the odium against his persecutors, he took care to proclaim everywhere the -wrongs which he had suffered ; he compared himself to Christ, who had been condemned by a lay tri- bunal ; and that he was crucified afresh in the oppressions under which his church still laboured ; he took it for granted, as a point incontestable, tliat his cause was the cause of God ; he claimed tiie exercise of dis- cipline and correction, as being the spiritual father both of the king and the people of England, and inveighed against the absurdity of inverting this relationship by allowing the son to chastise his own parent. In virtue of this assumed prerogative, he issued out anathemaus against va- rious persons who had opposed or violated the rights of the church ; some were excommunicated for accepting preferments, or drawing the revenues of their livings without his authority, and others for having been concerned in writing the ' unreasonable constitutions.' The king's chief ministers were excommunicated by name ; and the spiritual thunder was suspended over the head of Henry himself. " As to the person of our sovereign lord the king," says he, " we have hitherto forborne to ex- ert any censure, hoping tiiat time and the grace of God might bring liim to recollection and repentance ; though, imless he quickly retrieve his wrong steps, we shall be forced to make use of our authority against him too." • Ep. S. Thorn, i. 14, 15, IC. 23.— Hoved. 234. ['ICUIOI).] THOMAS A BECKET. 253 Perhaps Recket was instigated to assume this tone of defiance I)y the turn which matters had taken at Rome in favour of Alexan(ier. who, after a long exih-, liad returned to his ea])ital. The breaeh be- tween Henry and the ajmstolie see was as wiiU' as (!ver, and he took care ti) mak(! ))r()visions against tiu; impending rujjture. He issued orders to ills justiciaries, forbi(hling, unch-r severe jjenalties, all appeals to tin; ])ope or archbishop, prohibiting any one to receive mandates from them, or apply, in any ease, to their authority. He suspended tlie payment of ' Peter's ])ence,' and made advances towards an alliance with the em- peror Barbarossa, who had espoused the cause of the arch pope, Pa.scal HI., hoping by these expedients to terrify the pontiff from proceeding to extremities against him. He wrote also to the general chapter of the Cistertians, expressing his displeasure at their entertaining Beeket, and threatening to seize all their estates in his dcmiinions unless they drove him from the abbey of Pontigny. Upon this tiireat the primate with- drew to Sens, and thence, at the king of France's recommendation, to the convent of St Columba, where he remained four years. Both the contending ])arties, by their violent proceedings, had injured rather than benefited their cause. The letters and excommunications of Beeket, so far from serving his interest, had exasperated the minds of many against him ; while Henry had reduced himself to the unhappy situa- tion of having thrown away the only spiritual weapon that could hnally decide this controversy. His ministers and clergy were under- lying the ban of the church, and there was no other expedient he could employ for releasing them from this terrible censure but by appealing to the pope ; an authority which he had himself prohibit- ed them to acknowledge, or apply to in any case whatever, undei pain of treason. The bishops of the province of Canterbury wrote to their primate, entreating him to abate somewhat of his obstinacy, and endeavoured to open a way for a reconciliation. They expressed, their displeasure at his having threatened the king with the censures of the church, a measure more likely to inflame than heal the quarrel be- tween them; they implored him rather to try the effects of patience and hunulity, and throw himself on his majesty's clemency, who had been a bountiful patron to him in raising him from such slender beginnings to the highest dignity in the realm. Tliey ventured to suggest, that un- less concessions were made, it might endanger the pope's jurisdiction, and withdraw the kingdom of England from his communion ; and to prevent these unfortunate consequences they were willing once more to appeal to the court of Rome.'' Beeket in reply stated his surprise at the unfriendly and satirical style of their epistle, reproved them for charg- ing him with ingratitude, and upbraiding him with the meanness of liis birth and original station ; but as for yielding, or submitting, it was the first time he had heard that inferiors had any authority over their su- periors, or suffragans to be judges of their metropolitans; lastly, he had resolved with the apostle, that ' neither life nor death nor angels, nor prin- cipalities, nor any other creature,' should separate him from liis duty, and he desires the bishops to pray for him that his constancy might not sink under such accumulated afflictions. But he did more than re- mon urate, he had obtained from the pope a legantine commission over ' Kp. i. 12(). 254 ECCLESIASTICAL SERIES. [Second England, in virtue of which, he summoned the bishops of Salisbury and others to attend him under pain of excommunication, and ordered that the ecclesiastics sequestered on his account should be restored in two months to all their benefices.* But the king's agent with the pope, John of Oxford, had the address to procure orders for the suspending of this sentence; and he gave his holiness such hopes of a speedy re- concilement between the parties, that two legates were despatched to Normandy, where Henry then was, to bring the dispute to a final ad- justment. Matters however were not ripe for an accommodation. Henry required that all the constitutions of Clarendon should be rati- fied; while Becket insisted that, previous to any agreement, he and his adherents should be restored to their possessions. As the legates had no power to pronounce a definitive sentence on either side, the present negotiation came to nothing. In 1167, and the two following years, the negotiations were renewed, but all attempts at reconciliation proved ineffectual. At an interview between Louis and Henry, at Montmirail in Champaigne, Becket was urged to make his submission. A rumour had been spread that the English monarch intended to undertake a crusade, provided the affairs of the church were settled to his satisfaction. The prospect of this ex- pedition made tlie pope press an accommodation, and the archbishop seemed not unwilling to comply. He would, however, agree to no arrangement, without a stipulation that nothing should be done incon- sistent with the honour of God. Henry was enraged at this clause oi' reservation, and observed to the king of France, that it virtually ren- dered void the whole proceedings, since whatever Becket did not relish he would be sure to pronounce contrary to the honour of God. " How- ever," added Henry, " to show my inclination to compromise matters, I will make him this proposition. There have been many kings of Eng- land, some greater, and some inferior to myself; there have been also many great and holy men in the see of Canterbury. Let Becket, therefore, but pay me the same regard, and own my authority so far as the greatest of his predecessors owned that of the least of mine, and 1 am satisfied. And as I never forced hnn out of England, I give him leave to return at his pleasure; and am willing he should enjoy his archbishopric, with as ample privileges as any of his predecessors. ' Upon this the whole audience declared aloud that the king had gone far enough in his condescensions. Louis was so struck with this state of the Ciise, that he could not forbear condemning the primate, and withdrawing his friendship from him, and even withiiolding his pension. But neither force nor argument could prevail with Becket, and the con- ference terminated without effect. The bigotry of Louis and his invt- terate animosity against England, soon restored the archbishop to the French king's favour. Becket knew well how to excite the public sym- pathy, and when he found himself deprived of the means of supportine himself and his family, he resolved to dismiss his retinue and go a-begging. Before, however, he had carried this whim into practice, Louis unexpectedly retjuested his attendance. A fit of penitence liad seized him, and throwing himself in tears at the archbishop's feet, " My Lord," he exclaimed, " you are the only discerning person; nobody's eyes ' lii) i. 3(3 — Gervasi;. i JO and advantageous. He w;is not recjuired to give up any rights of the ch\irch, or resign any of those pretensions which had been the original grounds of the controversy. It was agreed that he and his adherents should, M ithout making farther submission, be restored to all their liv- ings; and that even the possessors of such benefices as depended on the see of Canterbury, and iiad been filled during the primate's absince, should be expelled, and Becket have liberty to supply the vacancies. 25C ECCLESIASTICAL SERIES. [Seconi. Ill return for conct'ssions which trenched so deeply oii the honour ann dignity of the crown, Henry reaped only the advantage of seeing his ministers absolved from the sentence of excommunication pronounced against them, and of preventing the interdict which, if these hard con- ditions had not been complied with, was ready to be laid on his king- dom. It was obviously the dread of this event that induced him to sub- mit to terms so dishonourable, and so anxious was he to conciliate Becket, that he took the most extraordinary steps to flatter his vanity; and even on one occasion humiliated himself so far as to hold the stirrup of the haughty prelate's horse while he twice mounted and dismounted. Becket now took leave of France on his return to England. On his approaching the coast, the archbishop of York and the rest of the sus- pended prelates ignorant of the compromise, and afraid lest he should publish the pope's sentence against them, endeavoured to oppose his landing by stationing military guards at the different ports.'-* But on being informed that a reconciliation had taken place, they laid down their arms. Becket, elated with his victory, proceeded in tlie most ostentatious manner to take possession of his diocese. In Rochester and all the towns through which he passed, he was received with tlie shouts and acclamations of the populace. As he approached South- wark, the clergy, the laity, men of all ranks and ages, came forth to meet him, and celebrated with hymns of joy his triumphant entrance. And though he was commanded by the young prince, whose order to absolve the suspended and excommunicated bishops he had refused to obey, to return immediately to his diocese, he found that he was not mistaken when he reckoned upon the highest veneration of the public towards his person and his dignity. But instead of a temperate and lenient exercise of his authority, he proceeded with the more courage to dart his spiritual thunders, and issued the censures of the church against all who had assisted at the coronation of the young prince, or been active in the late persecution of the exiled clergy. These violent measures exasperated Henry more and more, but he hoped by forbear- ance and delay on his part to soften the rigour of Becket's opposition, especially since his pride was fully gratified by his restoration. Becket, however, was resolved to push to the utmost the advantages which his present victory gave, and to disconcert the cautious measures of the king by the vehemence and rigour of his own conduct. Assured of support from Rome, he was little intimidated by dangers which his courage taught him to despise, and which, even if attended with the most fatal consequences, would serve only to justify his ambition and tliirst of glory. His refusal to absolve the archbishop of York, induced that prelate, and two others, to lay their complaints before Henry, then re- siding at Baieux in Normandy. Tiie king foresaw that his whole plan of operations was overthrown, and that the dangerous contest between the civil and ecclesiastical powers must come to an immediate ami d(;- •cisive issue. In his indignation, he could not help exclaiming with great warmth, " That he was an unhappy prince, who maintained a number of lazy insignificant persons about him, none of whom had gratitude or spirit enough to revenge him on a single insolent ])relate wlio gave him such disturbance." These words were heard by four ' Siephan. 7a — Kj). v. 7.1. gentlemen of the pourt, Reginald Fitz-Urse, William de Tracy, Richard Britow, and Hugh de Morville, and taking them as a hint, tliey innue- diately formed a design against tin; archbishop's life. Before leaving France, some expressions which they had dropt gave a suspicion of their design, and the king despatched a messenger after them, charging them to attempt nothing against the person of the primate ; but these orders arrived too late to prevent the fatal ileed. Tlie four assassins, though they took different roads to England, arrived almost at the same time ('J9th December, 1170) at Saltwoode, near Cant('rbury ;'" and being there joined by some assistants, they proceedeil in great liaste to the archiepiscopal palace and found the primate but verj' slen- derly attended. They told him they came from the king to command him to absolve the bishops under censure. Becket replied that it was not witliin the authority of an inferior jurisdiction to set aside the sen- tence of a superior court, and tiiat the ])ope's censure could not be re- versed but by the pope himself. This answer not satisfying them, they charged the monks of Canterbury, in the king's name, to keep the archbishop safe, that he might be forthcoming, and then departed with a menacing air. The same evening they returned to the palace, and leaving a body of soldiers in the court-yard, rushed into the cloister with their swords drawn, and from thence into the church, where the archbishop was at vespers. " Where is the traitor ?" they exclaimed, and nobody answering, they asked for the arclibishop ; upon which Becket moved towards them, without showing the least sign of fear, aiid told them he was the person. When one of them threatened him with death, he coolly answered he was prepared to die for the cause of God, and in defence of the rights of the church ; " but," added he, " if you must have my life, I charge you not to hurt any other person here, either clergy or laity, for none of them have any concern in the late transactions." The assassins immediately laid hands on him, and offered to drag him out of the church, but finding it could not be done with- out difficulty, they despatched him on the spot. He made no resist- ance, and though his head was cloven with several wounds, he never gave a groan nor offered to avoid a stroke.'^ He was only in the fifty- third year of his age. One of his attendants, a clergyman belonging to the cathedral, having interposed his arm to ward off a blow, had it nearly cut off. The nmrderers afraid they had gone too far, durst not return to the king's court in Normandy, but rather chose to withdraw to Knarcsborough, to a tower belonging to Hugh de Morville. Here they continued till they found themselves the aversion and contempt of the country, for nobody would hold conversation or eat or drink with them. Justice, we should have thought, would soon have overtaken their crime, but there was no law to inflict capital punishment on any person who had killed a member of the church, the clergy having ex- empted themselves from the king's jurisdiction. Tired of solitude and public neglect, they took a journey to Rome, and being admitted tu penance, they went to Jerusalem, where they spent the remainder of their lives in penitential austerities. The body of Becket, which the assassins had hesitated whether to throw into the sea or cut into small pieces, was buried by the monks and friars in a vault of the cathedral '» Gervas.;, Mil. " Stephaii. 81— 88.— Quailrilogua, HI. 13— 18.— Gfivusi;, 1115. I. 2 K 258 ECCLESIASTICAL SERIES. [Second The intelligence of the murder threw Henrj^ into the greatest conster- nation. He was fully sensible of the dangerous consequences which he had reason to appreiiend from so unexpected an event, and as it was extremely his interest to clear liimself from all suspicion, he took no care to conceal the depth of his affliction. He shut himself up in his chamber, suspended all intercourse with his servants, and even refused, during three days, food or sustenance of any kind. But the point of chief importance was to convince tlie pope of his innocence, and for this purpose he immediately despatched an embassy to Rome. Alex- ander Avas highly incensed at the king, and stimulated to revenge by the letters he received from the partisans of Becket. The king of France wrote to his holiness ' to draw St Peter's sword against Henry, and to study some new and exemplary justice ;' otliers were equally urgent, and moved for an interdict upon his dominions. But the am- bassadors found means so far to appea;3e the pontiff, as to avoid the ter- rible blow of excommunication, having made oath before the whole consistory that their prince was innocent, and that he would stand to the pope's judgment in the affair, and make every submission that should be required of him. Accordingly, on returning to England next year, Henry repaired to Canterbury where he did penance, and underwent a voluntary discipline in testimony of his regret for the murder. When he came within sight of the cathedral where the body was buried, he alighted from his horse and walked barefoot in the habit of a pilgrim till he came to Becket's tomb, where, after he had prostrated himself and prayed for a considerable time, he submitted to be scourged by the monks, and passed all that day and night kneeling on the bare stones without any refreshment. For nearly a year after Becket's death, all divine offices ceased in the church of Canterlniry until it was re-con- secrated by order of the pope. In 1173 he was canonized by a papal bull, and a particular collect was appointed to be used in all the churches within the province for expiating the guilt of the murder of that ' blessed martyr and bishop I''^ In 1221, the body was taken up in presence of Henry III. and a great concourse of the nobility and others, and deposit- ed in a rich shrine on the east side of the church, erected at the expense of Stephen Langton, then archbishop of Canterbury. His shrine was vis- ited from all parts, and enriched with the most costly offerings. Pilgrim- ages were performed to obtain his intercession with heaven, and in one year it was computed that above 100,000 of these pious devotees visited Canterbury. The miracles said to have been wrought at his tomb were so numerous, that Gervase of Canterbury tells us there were two large volumes filled with them kept in that church. A character so extraordinary was sure to be variously represented according as the portrait was drawn by friends or enemies. Most con- temporary writers justify his conduct throughout and make him a glori- ous martyr. The clergy extolled the greatness of his sanctity and his merits, exalting him far above all the ' cloud of witnesses' who had by their blood cemented the fabric of the church. Later writers, how- ever, have set his character in a very disadvantageous light, accusing him of insolence, bigotry, perjury and treason, both against his king and his country. In the main ground of the quarrel, that of requiring '• Forty-uiglit years after his decease, the doctors of the university of Paris luid u warm dispute whether he whs saved or damned. Period.] THOMAS A BECKET. • 25 find that by the commencement of the 13th century poetry began to How with a smoother melody, and to exhibit a greater variety of images. Some of the specimens to which the date has been alfixed of the year 1200, are extremely beautiful in point of sentiment, and are couched in a language evidently rich in poetical expression. One of these contains the fol lowing description of spring : Lenten ys come with love to tonne, With blosmen and with biiddes lonne, That al this blisse bryngcth ; Days ezes in this dales, Notes suete of nyhtegales, Uch foul songe singeth. The threstlecoe hym threteth so, Away is heure winter wo, When woderove sjjringeth ; This foules singeth ferly fele, Ant wlyteth on heme winter wele, That al the wode ryngeth.* The following love-song will show that the versification had acquired a degree of smoothness when it was produced — which is supposed to ^lave been in the reign of King John — that left little for the pouts of a move refined age to efiect : When the nyhtegale singes the wodes waxen grene, Ijct', and gras, and blosine, springes in Avril y wene ; Ant love is to myn harte gon witli one spere >o kene, Nyht and day my blod het diynkes myn hart deth me tene. Ich have lived al this yer, that I may love na more, Ich have siked moni syk, lemon, for thin ore, Me his love never the ner, and that me reweth sore ; Suete lemon, thenck on me, ich have loved the zore. Suete lemon, y preye the, ol love one speche While y lyve in worlde so wyde other niille y seche With thy love, my suete leof, mi blis thou mihtes eche. A suete cos of thy mouth mihte be m}- leche."" Specimens might also be produced to show that there w.is no want «i variety either in the metre or in the form of the stanza. But the above will sufi[ice to give the reader an idea of the progress which, even at this earlj- period of its literature, the art of versification was making in England. But it was not till a subsequent age that these glimmerings * M. Paris, sub ;um. » MSS. Harl. • Ibid. r,.:uioi>.l LAYAMOX. 27o of true poetic power increased into a steady and permanent light. Some of the larger poems of this era, whieh appear to have possessed a cou- siderabhi siiare of ])oi)ularity, are deficient both in s])irit and design, and exhibit only the rude efforts of inexperienced rhymers. Litth- must liave been known of the true nature of poetry wlien sueii productions could obtain general approbation ; and we may accordingly conclude that tlie taste of the people had as yet received none of those strong impressions which at once determined its direction, and enabled it to judge intuitively of what is presented to its judgment. It was before our poetic literature had reached this stage of its pro- gress, that Layamon, a priest of Ernesley upon Severn, translated Wace's 'Brut d'Aiigleterre* — whieh is a Norman -French version of Geoffrey of Momnouth's history — into English verse. We do not pos- sess any materials for a biographical notice of this early writer ; but regarding his translation as one of the earliest specimens of metre in the native language, we have used his name for the jjurpose of introduc ing a few remarks on the state of our poetical literature towards the close of the second period of English history. Mr Ellis supposes that Layamon finished his translation in 1180, and conceives our Ian- guage to have been formed betwixt that period and 1216. The follow, ijig is a specimen of Layamon's verses : — And of alle than folke The wunedtn ther on folde, Wes thisscs hmdes folk lieodene hundest itald ; And alswa the wimmen Wunliche on heowen. That is, in English — " And of all the folk that dwelt on earth wa^ this land's folk the handsomest (people told) ; and also the women hand- some of hue." Mr Ellis regards the dialect of Layamon as pure Saxon. Mr Campbell's opinion seems more just, that it is truly neither Saxon nor English, but something intermediate betwixt the old and new languages, — " something," to use his own beautiful simile, " like the new insect stirring its wdngs before it has shaken off the aurelia state."' There is good evidence that the following ballad must have been composed in the reign of Henry III., probably soon after the battle of Lewes, which was fought in 1264. It is entitled, ' Richard of Al maigne,' and seems to have been written by one of Leicester's adhe- rents : — " SiUeth alle stille, ant herkneth to me : The kyn[g] of Alemaigiie, bi mi leaute, Thritti-thousent pound askede he For te make the pees in the count r^. Ant so he dude more. Richard, Thah thou be ever tri'-harn{;, ' Essa) on English Toctrj, p. S3. •276 LITERARY SERIES. [Seconi. Haveth lie iiout of Walingford oferlj-ng. Let him habbe, ase he brew, bale to dryng, Maugre Wyndeaore. Richard, &c. The k)'ng of Alemaigne wend do ful wel, He saisede the mulne for a castel, With hare sharpe swerdes he grounde the stel, He wende that the sayles were mangonel, To helpe Wyndesore. Richard, &c. The kyiig of Alemaigne gederede ys host, Makede him a castel of a mulne-post, Wende with is pride, ant is muchele host, Brohte from Alemayne moni sori gost, To store Wyndesore. Richard, &e. By god, that is aboven ous, he dude muche s>^me, That lette passen over-see the erl of Warynne. He hath robbed Engelond, the mores ant the fennc, The gold ant the selver ant yboren henna. For love of Wyndesore. Richard, &c. Sire Simond de Mountfort hath suore bi ys chyn, Hevede he nou here the erl of Waryn, Shuld he never more come to is yn, Ne with sheld, ne with spere, ne with other gyn. To help Wyndesore. Richard, &c. Sir Simond de Montfort hath suore by ys ' fot,' Hevede he uou heie sire Hue de Bigot, Al he shulde grante here twelf-moneth scot, Shulde he never more with his sot pot. To helpe Wjndesore. Richard, &c. Be the luef, be the loht, sire Edward, Thou shalt ride sporeles o thy lyard, Al the ryhte way to Dovere-ward, SibaJl thou nevermore breke foreward. Ant that rewelh sore, Edwkrd, Thou dudest ase a shreward, I'orsiokii Ihyn emes lo've. Period.] ALEXANDER HALES. 27 i DlIiD A. D. 1249. Alexander Hales was born in Gloucester at the beginni?ig '.»f tlie 13th century, and received his name i'rom a monastery belonging to the Franciscan order, in which he received his education. While yet a youth he was sent to the university of Paris, where he applied himself to study with the most indefatigable industry. He soon distin- guished himself by the extent and variety of his learning, but especially in those cherished pursuits of the age, scholastic theology and the canon law. No sooner had he taken his degree of doctor, than lie be- came professor in these branches, and his profound erudition and un- common acuteness soon gained him the title of the ' Irrefragable doc- tor.' Some of his pupils afterwards became as distinguished as their master, and even more so. Among them were the celebrated Duns Scotus and John Fedanza, better known by the name of Cardinal Bo- naventura. In 1222, the irrefragable doctor consigned himself to the monastic life amongst the Franciscans at Paris. Here he passed the rest of his days employing his time in that most laborious trifling — the composition of various works of scholastic theology. The greater part of them have long since perished ; many extant works, however, are ascribed to him, but the only one that critics regard as genuine is the ' Summa Unversia Theologia,' or Commentaries on the Four Books of Sentences. He entered upon this work by order of Pope Innocent IV. It was first printed at Nuremberg in 1482, fol. ; then at Basil in 1.j02 ; at Venice, 1573 — 6; and at Cologne in 1622. It is needless to say there have been no later editions. This work displays, of course, much of that oracular dogmatism and ambitious speculation which dis- tinguished all performances of a similar stamp and of the same age, together with much also of that metaphysical subtlety and acute reasoning from faulty premises which were no less characteristic of them. In vain, however, shall we in general look either for useful knowledge or sound argumentation. Alexander Hales was one of the great admirers and expositors of Aristotle, and together with his contemporaries Al- bertus Magnus, Duns Scotus, and Thomas Aquinas, gave the Aristo- telian philosophy that pre-eminence which it enjoyed over all Europe, till Bacon, that great iconoclast, disputed its claims to tiie homage of mankind, and aimed the first deadly blow at the reputation of the scho- lastic philosophers and their master. Since that these laborious and learned writers have been rarely looked into ; they lived only as the commentatators and expounders of Aristotle, or as the authors of works wholly constructed on his philosophy, and it was neither just nor probable that their fame should survive his. As a theologian, Alexander Hales, like his contemporaries, adopted that most pernicious custom jf applying the Aristotelian philosophy, or rather the extravagant sys- tem which they wrought out of it, and of illustrating the sacred page by the flickering light of the lamp of the Stagirite. By this means every book of theology, not less than of philosophy, was soon crowded U'ith verbal quibbles and metaphysical subtleties. The * Commentaria in (juatuor libros sententiarura,' published under the name of Hales at 278 LITERARY SERIES. [SECOxn Lyons in 1515, are ascribed by the best critics to another author. In addition to the works usually ascribed to him, it is supposed that many of his MSS. exist in the libraries of Milan, Oxford, and Lambeth. Requiescant i?i pace / Those who wish to know more of this ' ir- refragable doctor ' may consult Diipin, Leland, and Cave. DIED A. D. 1 2.'! 9. One of the most faithful and best informed of the numerous Englisii historians of the 13th century was Matthew Paris, an individual of whuss personal history little is known. Fuller makes him a native of Cambridgeshire, but upon no better authority than the fact that there was an ancient lamily of his name in that county. The first circum- stance of his life which we know with certainty is, that he assumed the habit in the abbey of St Albans in 1217. Here he continued to reside until the period of his death in 1259, having never obtained any higher office tlian that of historiographer to the brotherhood,^ although he en- joyed the friendship and even familiarity of several crowned heads. By his own sovereign, Henry IH., he was treated in a very kind and confidential manner, being often invited to his table and employed in different missions of importance. He even hints that the king conde- scended to lend him occasional assistance in the composition of his great work,- although our author was certainly no sycophant or flatterer of princes, but, on the contrary, appears to have frequently admonished his sovereign with great boldness of speech. Indeed, no historian of his age has recorded the follies and vices as well as the virtues of the great with a more unsparing hand ; and even though a monk himself, he has depicted the insatiable avarice, the intolerable tyranny, the luxury and perfidy of the court of Rome in the strongest colours. To this perfect integrity and fearlessness of character, he added no small share of genius and learning. " He was," says Pit, " an elegant poet, an eloquent orator, an acute logician, a subtle philosopher, a solid di- vine, a celebrated historian, and, which crowned the whole, a man justly famous for the purity, the integrity, the innocence and simplicity of his manners."-' Among the princes who honoured him with their confidence and correspondence was Haco, king of Norway, for whom he transacted some attairs of importance in London, and who having obtained a bull from Pope Innocent IV. authorizing him to adopt steps for the reformation of the manners of the ecclesiastics in his kingdom, fixed upon Paris as the best qualified person to aid him in the projected reformation. At Haco's invitation, our historian went to Norway in 1248, and spent about a year in that country in restoring monastic discipline to its primitive strictness and regularity.* During his resi- dence in Norway, he acted as ambassador for Louis IX. of France, whose friendship he had won by his learning and integrity. The theological works of Matthew Paris have perished, but his his- ' T;in Bibliolh. Biit. p. 673. ' Hist Aiigl. p. 494. ' Prelai. Sciiui ,i67. ' M. l^aiis. 504. Peuiod.J ROGER BACON. 279 torical labours have been more fortunate. The greatest and most va- luable of these is his ' Historia Major,' which contains the history of Ent^luinl from the conquest to the 43(1 of Henry III. or l'2.'y9. In the early portion of this work, our historian stands much indebted to the labours of his predecessor in the otfice of historiof^rapher to the abbey of St Albans, Roger de Wendover ; and it was continued after his death to 127-'3 by his successor in the same office, William llishanger. Of this work our author executed an abridgment under the title of ' Historia Minor,* which is still jireserved in MS. The first part of Mat- thew of Westminster's ' Flowers of History,' extending from the crea- tion of the workl to the conquest of England, is said to have been little more than a transcript of an unpublished work of Matthew Paris. Our author likewise wrote the lives of the two Offas, kings of Mercia, and of the twenty-three first abbots of St Albans. His historical composi- tions have been several times printed, and will be always consulted with interest and profit by the student of early English liistory. They are, indeed, disfigured with many ridiculous legends, but such kind of credulity was the folly of the times rather than of the man. The best and most complete edition of his works was published at London in 1684. The first edition of the ' Historia Major' appeared in 1371. MoQtv 33nron. BORN A. D. 1:^14 DIED A. D. 1292. The celebrated Roger Bacon, a monk of the order of St Francis, was born at Ilchester in Somersetshire, in the year 1214.' He is, per- haps, entitled to be considered as at least equal to any man of his age ; and when we say this, we do not forget that Thomas Aquinas, Albertus Magnus, Bonaventura, and Alexander Hales, fiourished in the same century. That Roger Bacon was their match in general learning and powers of reasoning, will be readily admitted, while it must be granted that he far surpassed all of them in the knowledge of nature. This extraordinary man certainly gave strong practical indications that he was acquainted with the true way of studying the physical sciences, — • with the secret of the experimental philosophy ; though undoubtedly deficient in his method, and with a very imperfect conception of those vast and comprehensive general principles, which his great namesake Francis Bacon — a singular coincidence — showed to be applicable to all the sciences, and to constitute the only way in which man can be- come the ' interpreter of nature.' Thus Bacon deserves to be consi- dered one of the greatest of the many forerunners of that auspicious era, which was to usher in a revival both of literature and religion, and to witness the most splendid discoveries in all departments of science ; he was one of the many prophets, who amidst imperfect revelations and beclouded knowledge, gave promise to the world of the ' better dispen- sation.' It was not until many such had appeared, flashing one after another through the night of ages., and successively penetrating the thick darkness with a brighter and steadier ray, that at length the ' day ' Hist, et Anliii. Oxon. p. 136. 280 LITERARY SERIES. tSECOND slowly dawned,' and the 'day-star' of science arose. In extenuating the merit, then, of those great geniuses who, though possessed of splen- did powers, shone so dimly during the middle ages, we must never forget to weigh carefully and impartially all the circumstances which oppressed their faculties and circumscribed their views. Roger Bacon might, for any thing we know, have been the Francis Bacon of a later age ; a light that would only tremble like a star amidst the ' dark- ness of the middle ages,' might be effulgent as the sun under other circumstances. We shall find, therefore, that the fame of these men is to rest, not on their absolute knowledge, but on their attainments viewed in relation to their times ; and if this rule of judgment be adopted, sure we are, that many a greater name in the annals of modern science — greater, simply because placed in more favourable circum- stances — will stand eclipsed by the glory of Roger Bacon. The giant strength with which some of the men of the middle ages grappled with their difficulties, and partially upheaved the vast piles of prejudice and ignorance under which they lay buried, is not less worthy of our ad- miration than the alacrity with which their successors, relieved of all these encuraberments, press on in the open path of science and know- ledge. There is a gradual preparation, — there are successive steps by which, in analogy with all the schemes of providence, and the limited nature of the human faculties, the Divine Being brings about every great change in this world, political, moral, and philosophical ; and it is not less pleasing to mark the progress of the species in knowledge and improvement, than to watch the developement of the faculties of the individual. Of the early years of Roger Bacon little is known ; he received his education in the university of Oxford, at that time highly cele- brated, — we speak of course in relation to the general darkness of the age. It numbered amongst its scholars men of no mean attainments and of no little genius. Many of them were something better than acute dialecticians, — men, whose knowledge was not confined to the vain subtleties of the scholastic logic, or the still vainer subtleties of the scholastic theology. At this period classical literature began to be more generally studied than heretofore ; and it is worthy of notice, that Oxford, which earliest encouraged these pursuits, still maintains her pre-eminence in them. Amongst his most kind and zealous patrons, Bacon ranked the celebrated Grosseteste. To his instructions and ad- vice, to the general influence which he exerted on his young mind, Bacon was probably indebted for that eminently practical bent which was given to his genius, and which led him, if not to despise much ot the learning of his days, at all events, to assign to it a very inferior rank. To this conclusion we are led by the fact that Bacon, in the honourable mention which he makes of his great patron and benefactor, characterizes and applauds him, as one of the few who could, at that time, distinguish between truly valuable knowledge, and that which, as frivolous and worthless, deserved not the name." Another ol Bacon's friends was Edmund Price, archbishop of Canterbury. This prelate resided much at Oxford, and there afibrded our young scholar much kind assistance. He was also deeply indebted to Williaia ^ upus Maj. [>. 64. I'lUMon. I ROGER BACON. 281 Shirwood, and Richard Flshaore, the former chancellor of Lincoln, and f^elebratod for his inatheinatical attaiiunctits, the latter a distint^uishrd lecturer in the sciences, not only at Oxionl but at Paris, at that time the most anci^^nt seats of learning and science in Europe. To th(; latter city most of our scholars repaired, after passin-; tlirough the usual course in England, for the further prosecution of their studies, and Roger Bacon adopted the usual practice. While at Paris, he pursued various branches of learning and science with unremitted application. His reward was the degree of doctor of theology, and the character ol one of the most profound and extraordinary scholars of his age. After this he took the monastic hal)it of the order of St Francis ; but whether he did this while he yet tarried in France or after he returned to England, which was in 1240, cannot be determined.' On his return to England, Bacon took up his abode at Oxford. He here distinguished himself, as did also Iks brother, Robert Bacon, by a sermon preached before Henry HI., in which he inveighed in very strong language against the excessive deference which that monarch paid to the opinion of Peter, bishop of Winchester, as well as against the practice — then so generally adopted — of giving the most important posts in the kingdom Xo foreigners. In this honest expression of an independent mind, he was a worthy imitator of his great patron, Grosseteste. But all Bacon's inclinations and habits led him away from public life, and he applied himself to study with a zeal as ardent as his perseverance was invincible. Discontented with the learning of the schools — a mark of uncommon penetration — he chiefly employed himself in the study of nature, in experimenting. The words in which he declares the inadequacy of Aristotle's writings to answer the purpose to which they were applied, are so remarkable, that we cannot refrain from quoting them. " Si haberem potestatem super libros Aristotelis, ego facerem omnes cremari ; quia non est nisi temporis amissio studere in illis, et causa erroris et multiplicatio ignorantise ultra id quod valeat explicari." For more than twenty years did he devote himself with indefatigable industry to various branches of the physical sciences, during which period he expended on books, instruments, and experiments, not less than £2000 — then, of course, a very large sum — which was princi- pally contributed by his generous patrons and friends."* It has been a matter of some doubt whether he made these experiments at Oxford or Paris ; the former opinion seems the more probable, as his work de tailing these experiments is addressed to William of Paris, thus im- plying that it was composed elsewhere. In these pursuit:^, lie made — ■ as will be the case with every one — a progress proportioned to his ge- nius and industry. His discoveries indeed may appear small beside the vast accumulations of modern science, but they will be justly considered wonderful by any man Avho reflects on the darkness ol the age in which Bacon lived, and that his discoveries were all his own. In order to obtain an easy access to the sciences, he aj)piied himself to a diligent study of Greek, Latin, Hebrew, and Arabic. The conse- (pience was, he was not only a match for any of his contemporaries in metaphysics and theology, but far surpassed them in grammar and the languages. In astronomy, as is well known, lie gave a notable proof Ouclin. Comment, dc Script Eccl. torn III. p. 191. * 1" open; miiiuri. Ciip. xvii. I. 2 N 282 LITERARY SERIES. [Second of his skill by showing the errors which existed in the calendar, and pointing out with uncommon exactness the way to correct them. A copy of his corrected calendar is preserved in the Bodleian library. Of this discovery Dr Jebb says, " Inter pulcherrima jure recensenda est quae humana unquam excogitaverat industria." This discovery we should consider chiefly valuable as connected with astronomy : not so, however, the men of that day. It helped Paul, bishop of Fossoni, to concoct his treatise on the right celebra- tion of Easter, in which he disputes some of the statements of Bacon. It is a striking confirmation, however, of the extraordinary penetra- tion of Bacon, that when the celebrated Copernicus, at the request of that bishop, took some more accurate observations with a view to the settlement of this question, he verified the disputed statements of our scholar. As a mechanician. Bacon was even still more renowned than as an astronomer. In his own works, he speaks of many extraor- dinary machines which he had made or seen ; and still more extraordi- nary ones are attributed to him by the blind admiration of some, or — strange to say — the base envy of others, who magnified his power for the very purpose of fixing upon him the character of magician. That such nonsense should have been believed, however, is a conclusion that he must have possessed a very uncommon measure of ingenuity. Optics he greatly improved both in theory and the practice. This science was tlien in its infancy, and Bacon expended much both of time and money upon it. That he must have made considerable progress is evident from the fact, that he not only describes with much accuracy lenses both convex and concave, and the manner in which, by the refraction of the rays of light, they magnify or diminish objects, but he points out the application of spherical glasses to aid impaired eye-sight, — for viewing distant objects, whether terrestrial or celestial — whence he has been supposed, w,ith considerable probability, to have been the inventor of the telescope, — and to the construction of the camera obscura and the burning glass. In geography, our author had exhibited the same indefatigable industry as in all the other branches of knowledge. He made himself thoroughly acquainted with all the discoveries of his age, and knew how to make use of them, as appears by some curious pas- sages from his ' Opus Majus,' preserved in Hakluyt's collection of voyages and travels.^ But it was in chemistry that Bacon s talents were most conspicuous ; and it was here, too, that he betrayed some of those infirmities which, in those superstitious days, beset even the most exalted genius. The facts which he established, however, were numerous; and, in more than one instance, led to important results. It is well known that many of the most valuable discoveries were made while pursuing that vision- ary object, the philosopher's stone, or that brilliant illusion, the mode of transmuting inferior metals into gold. This splendid folly, — this scheme for creating an El-dorado at home, — was prosecuted by most of the chemists, or rather all chemists of tiie age, with a diligence, which, had it been bestowed on more rational objects, under the guidance of the inductive philosophy, must have led to the most illustrious disco- veries. While pursuing this gilded shadow, however, the alchemists » Vol. iii. PicRiOD.] ROGER BACON. 283 sometimes stumbled upon a truly • golden' tnith ; just as the first adven- turers to America sometimes lilt upon the true path to wealth, by co- lonising that rich soil, — wealth, which they often sought in vain be- neath its surface. It was in accordance with the same visicmary spirit which showed itself so conspicuously in the sul)lime nonsense of the ' philosopher's stone,' that Roger Bacon speaks of the extraordinary virtues of the aurum potabllc, or tincture of gold, and of a mysteri ous charm which was to renew in old age the warmth and vigour of youth : " ilia medieina," says he, " qutc tollant onmes inununditias et cori-uptiones vitioris metalli ut fierent argentum et auruni purissinmm, lestimatur a sapientibus posse toUere corruptiones eorj)oris humani in tantum, ut vitam per multa secula prolongarc." When we find him tims credulous, it is not wonderful that many should have doubted whether ho really possessed those great chemical secrets of which he often s])i aks in a language not a little bombastic, and with such an imposing air of mystery. We here refer more particularly to what he says of a certain unextinguishable fire, and of the marvellous powers of a substance which many supposed to be gunpowder. Yet, under this frequently inHated language and affectation of mystery, his lan- guage is often so plain as to convince us that he was really aware of the composition of gunpowder ; while the ' unextinguishable fire' was, in all probability, a species of phosphorus. That the invention of gunpowder, commonly attributed to a German of a much later period, belongs to him is plain from the following passages in his works : — " In omnem distantiam, quam volunms, possunms artificialiter componere ignem condjurentcm ex sale petraj et aliis." At another time he still more plainly indicates the ingredients of this wonderful substance; half-disguis- 'ug the secret, however, under the mystery of anagram. " Sed tamen salis petrae luru mope can uhre et sulphuris : et sic facies tonitrum et coruscationom, si scies artifieium."^ Here it will be observed that the letters which compose the name of the third ingredient are transposeil, " earbonum pulvere." In another part of his writings, Bacon speaks of this discovery in that exaggerated and mysterious jargon which was so characteristic of the age in which he lived, and which, like all per- versions of the simple truth, brought its own punishments along with it ; for these high-sounding pretensions only exposed him to the impu- tation of magic power. His knowledge of practical medicine was evidently very considerable for his age, though, of course, tinctured with the errors of his che- mistry. These two departments of knowledge uniformly enlarge or contract together. These brilliant talents, and this profound and universal knowledge, were not in those days harmless possessions. If, in an after age, just w hen philosophy had begun to break the trammels imposed on her by false notions of religion, Galileo was to be imprisoned, because God had not constructed the universe ai'ter the ideas of infallible ecclesias- tics, we need not think that Roger Bacon, at a still darker period, was to make such progress in knowledge and yet go unscathed. In those days, much knowledge was a dangerous j)ossession. He was soon — as above hinted — accused of magic, partly by those who, it is feared, ' Ep. de SJecretis Operculis Arlis hI Naturs, rt with his name by accident, but that he lived in the reign of Joim and Henry III. Bale adds that he was born in London, and 286 LITERARY SERIES. [Second Pekioi. educated at Cambridge and Oxford. It appears also that after finish< ing his studies in these universities, he went abroad, and acquired, in the course of his travels, a knowledge of medical science, philosophy, and literature in general, which rendered him celebrated on his return to England, as one of the greatest scholars of the time. The learning which he must have possessed in order to enjoy this reputation may in some degree be estimated from our knowledge of the fact, that the phy- sicians of the 13th and 14th centuries were expected to be versed in all the abstrusest sciences of the Greeks and Arabian:}. From the time of the celebrated Avicenna, who flourished in the 10th century, not only alchemy, but every branch of natural philosophy, became the almost necessary adjunct of medical stud}'. Tlie very uncertainty that attended the science placed its professor under the obligation of seeking tliis universal knowledge. Astronomy was not less essential than alchemy; and it was a notion very common among physicians, that the human frame was a sort of microcosm, or abstract of the world. Such an idea of course, favoured the indulgence of the wildest theories ; but every theory of the kind demanded a large share of learning, if not Df sound philosoohy for its support; and they who thought that every thing in heaven and earth had its likeness in man's body, would natui- ally imagine that all the laws and motions of nature were to be viewed in relation to his existence. In a rational state of science this opinion might perhaps tend highly to the advancement of medical knowledge, but when the chief part of the ancient philosophy was wild conjecture, it necessarily led to a mode of study as unprofitable as it was laborious. " This variable composition of man's body," says Bacon, " hath made it as an instrument easy to distemper, and therefore the poets did well to conjoin music and medicine in Apollo, because the office of medicine is but to tune the curious harp of man's body, and to reduce it to har- mony. So then the subject being so variable, hath made the art by consequence more conjectural; and the art being conjectural, hath made so nmch the more place to be left for imposture." Petrarch wrote a severe critique on the physicians of his age, and Chaucer does not fail to let us see all the weak points of the profession as it was pre- sented to his observation in England ; but the satires and philippics of these distinguished men show but the extent of study, which a con- scientious physician like Albricius would have to pursue, and, through how many obstacles he would have to pass before obtaining the solid fame which he appears to have enjoyed. Of his works Bale has enu- merated only the following: ' De origine Deorum,' ' De ratione Veneni,' ' Virtutes Antiquorum,' and ' Canones Speculative' In the ' Mytho- graphi Latini,' published at Amsterdam in 1681, there is a small tx'ea- tise ' De Deorum imaginibus,' to which the name Albricius is attached, but it is doubtful whether this was not Albricius, bishop of Utrecht, in the 8th century. HISTORICAL INTRODUCTION TO THIRD PERIOD, KXTENDING KKi)M EDWARD I. TO THE ACCESSION OF HENRY VII. BIOGRAPHICAI. NOTICES EMINENT ENGLISHMEN WHO FLOURISHED DURING THAT i'ERlOT). HISTORICAL INTRODUCTION THIRD PERIOD, Coiisiilution of England not the result of occult causes — Origin of Magna Chaita— Its repeated ratifications an evidence of the state of public feeling — The elements of popular liberty at work during the reign of Edward I. — Their influence in the reigns of Edward II. and III. — Common law under Edward III. — Advance of popular independence under Richard II. — Reigns of Heniy IV., Henry \'I., Edward IV. — State of political feeling at the accession of Henr) VII. — History of literature during this period — General views of the oiigin of a national literature — First seeds of literature in England— Scarcity of books — State of literature in the reign of Edward I. — Early impulse given to the study of Jurisprudence — Roger Bacon's account of the state of learning — Establishment of the English universities — Schoolmen — Poets — Robert of Gloucester and Robert Mann)ng — Influence of the crusading spirit on English literature — State of literature under Edward III. — Oc- cam — Bujie\' — Chaucer — Gower — John of Salisbury — Neckham — Joseph of Exe- ter — Wickliffe — Kiiyghton — Higden — William of W) kehain — Literature under Henry IV., Henry V. — Lydgate and Occleve — Chichely — Waynllete — Minstrels more esteemed than Monks — Literature under Edward IV. — Origin of the Laure- ateship — Harding — Norton — Ripley — Fabyan — Invention of piinting — Attention paid to classical literature— Schools — The Diauia. The constitution of England was neither born in secret, not nour- ished by invisible foster-mothers. If its rudiments lay scattered be- neath the soil in a period of historical darkness, the earliest documents we possess indicate their existence. The metal was not run together by supernatural agency, but forged into a mass and into form by the bold sledge-hammers of known men. This has been the case from the first great act which secured liberty to our ancestors down to the i)re sent time. Deliberate resistance under conspicuous leaders, — legisla- tive enactments the result of open counsels, — successes in war and commerce secured bj' the vigorous exertions of many keen and active minds, — these are causes to which the existence of our freedom may be trac(>d through all its stages ; and it is this opportunity which we pos- sess of assigning its establishment and progress to the operation of cer- tain causes, set at Mork by public men, which gives so deep an interest to our history, and so especial a value to our biogiaphy. I- 2 o 290 HISTORICAL INTRODUCTION The security which was given to private property by Magna Charta, — the establishment of fixed courts of judicature, — and the increase of towns, — were tiie first results of that happy combination of valour and free wisdom which formed the earliest elements of the English char- acter. That the great charter was the reward rather of foreseeing po- licy than of any sudden impulse, — that it sprung from the rooted principle of liberty, and not from the mere temporary suggestions of expediency, — is strongly evidenced by the care with which each succeed- ing generation struggled to confirm its enactments. No less than thirty- five times, it is stated, was this charter ratified at the instance of the nation ;• and when it is considered that, in the pursuit of such solidly important objects, the communitj'^ never acts without a guide, — that it is not kept together without the compacting power of many superior minds, — it will be easil}'^ seen how numerous a class of eminent men must have been formed in the active and popular walks of life, while our literature was quietly nourished by souls of a sedater and more tranquil nature. The leaders of the parliament in the reigns of Edward I. and his two immediate successors, had a perilous and untried labour to per- form. In the actions and characters of these men, as far as they can be at all known, the thoughful reader can scarcely fail of taking a lively interest. Tiiey had to convince the sovereign that there was strength in the people when that strength was yet unexhibited ; to estab- lish maxims, which it required much light to render intelligible, but to support which they had only the simple expedient of attempting resist- ance. The first Edward's reign was one of memorable events for the monarchy : that of the second, and of the third, for the nation. Not- withstanding the reputation attending the successes of the last-men- tioned monarch, the power of the people acquired new strength under his sceptre. We now hear of a king's being obliged not only to sacri- fice his prime minister to the will of his people's representatives, but even to banish his mistress. This increase of authority in the people was not a naked or isolated good. While it tended to produce the most advan- tageous results, it was itself the result of many prosperous circum- ■stances. The nation was in the healthy growing time of youth ; its energies were continually multiplying; it seemed every year to see more clearly some branch of its interest or duty. A greater value was hence given both to industry and talent ; jurisprudence had no longer a mere theory by which to try its maxims, but an actual state of things ; and it may be learnt even from the very regulations which were passed to protect or promote trade — injudicious as the most of them were — that it was now plainly seen how greatly the strength of the country de- pended upon the labour of the conmionalty. Until the reign of Edward III., the civil and canon law appear to have preponderated in all the courts ; but in this reign the practice of the common law courts was much improved by the introduction of a strict system of pleading. " Under the reign of Edward III.," says Sir Matthew Hale, " the law was improved to its greatest height. The judges and pleaders were very learned. The pleadings are more polish- ' '' The charter was ratified four times by Richard III., twice by Edward I., fifteen times by Edward III., seven times by Richard II., six limes by Henry IV., and once by Henry V." — Lingard. 'r(; TIIIKI) TKIMOD. 291 0(1 tlian those in the time of Edward II., yet they have neither uncer- tainty, ])rolixity, nor obscurity. So tliat, at tlin lattn- part of this kinfi;'s reign, the law seemed to be near its meridian."" A terrible proof was tjiven of tlie advance of popular inch'pendence, as opposed to tlu' undefined exercisf the first seeds of literature. It was long, however, before the materials of learning were brought into this country, or ob- tained any general circulation. As late as the year 1299, we find a bishop of Winchester borrowing a bible of the cathedral-convent of St Swithin, and giving a bond, couched in the most formal terms, for its return. Warton observes, in speaking of the same period, that when a book was bequeathed to any one by will, it was seldom without severid restrictions and stipulations : that if a person presented a book to a re- ligious house, he offered it with great solemnity on the altar, and con- Mdered that the gift merited eternal salvation : that the most terrible anathemas were pronounced against those who should be guilty of taking a book presented to a religious house, and, as an instance of this, it is stated, that the prior and convent (4' Rochester declared, that they would every year pronounce the irrevocable sentence of damnation on hin\ who should purloin or conceal a Latin translation of Aristotle's TO THIRD PERIOD. 295 pliysics, or even obliterate the title.* The manner in which the piirc-luLso of a book wiis made corres|)oti(lL'(J witli tlie hi<,4i icica tlius crittTtaiiu'd of its value. It \va.s usual when such an article of property wius to bo disposed of, to collect s»!veral persons of the <,'reat(!st respec- tability together as witnesses, and their names were recorded u\ the deed of purchase. The learned writer al)0ve named quotes two or three documents of this kind, and which bear a much later date than that above alluded to. Thus, in a manuscript of the book of the sen- tences of Peter Lombard, app(!ars the following : " This book of the sentences belongs to Master Roger archdeacon of Lincoln, wliich he bought of Geori'rey the chaplain, brother of Henry vicar of Northel- kington, in the presence of Master Robert de Lee, Master John of Lirting, Richard of Luda, clerk, Richard the almoner, the said Henry the vicar, and his clerk, and others : and the said archdeacon gave the paid book to God and saint Oswald, and to Peter al)ljot of Barton, and the convent of Barden !" A still more striking instance of the value or scarcity of books occurs in the statutes of St Mary's college, Oxford, in which it is ordered " that no one should retain a book in the library. or cause it to be retained above an hour, or two hours at the most, lest others should be hindered from the sight, or study of the same." This want of books was the most formidable obstacle with which the students of the 13th and 14th centuries had to strive; but the tacts above stated lead to the important discovery that their value was be- ginning to be estimated aright, and that it was considered an object worthy of the most wealthy and the most powerful to collect them. Men of letters enjoyed the advantage of libraries much earlier on the continent than in England; there were greater facilities there for the collection of manuscripts both Greek and Latin, and the comnmnication of knowledge was pro[)ortionately more; raj)id. We find, consequently, that but few native Englishmen had risen into notice, when Edward the First began his reign, and that literature, at that period, had not yet been able by its genial influence to tame the violent passions and prejudices of the age. His career, though one of military splendour, and produc- tive of important political advantages to the country, did not tend to soften the feelings, or enlarge the views of the great body of his sub- jects. The wars with Wales and Scotland kept up the haughty spirit of the higher classes, and the fierce brutality of the lower. Education opposes the interest of monarchs intent on military aggrandisement, hi as much as it renders the people too enlightened to be managed in mass ; and thus both the policy of the king, and the agitations consequent on war, will almost invariably prevent the i)rogress of general improve- ment in such reigns as that of Edward the Fii'st. There was one feature, however, in the policy of that monarch which deserves particular mention, as it outweighed many of the circumstances most unfavourable to the literature of that period. It was the impulse then given to the study of the law. The importance of this science at the dawn of learning can scarcely be too highly estimated. Less capable ot being misrepresented than the sublime truths of theology, but sutlicient- ly grave and dignified in their purposes, the principles of legal study are admirably calculated to strengthen the mind, and lead to the forma- * Dissertation on the Inirmliuuioii oi Learning iiitu England. 296 HISTORICAL INTRODUCTION tion of a habit of close and extensive observation. Tiraboschi remarks the great and beneficial influence which the early pursuit of this branch of learning had in Italy ;* and Mr Stewart speaks still more decidedly to tlie same effect. " No study," says he, " could then have been presented to the curiosity of men, more happily adapted to improve their taste, to enlarge their views, or to invigorate their reasoning powers; and al- though, in the first instance, prosecuted merely as the subject of a weak and undistmguishing idolatry, it nevertheless conducted the student to the very confines of ethical as well as of political speculation; and served, in the mean time, as a substitute of no inconsiderable value for both these sciences. Accordingly we find, that, while in its immediate eff'ects it powerfully contributed, wherever it struck its roots, by ame- liorating and stystematizing the administration of justice, to accele ate the progress of order and of civilization, it afterwards furnished, in the arther career of human advancement, the parent-stock on which were grafted the first rudiments of pure ethics, of liberal politics, taught in modern times."^ The encouragement, therefore, which was given to legal studi3s in the reign of Edward the First, is the principal circum- stance on which the literary iiistorian will fix his eye ; and the remark made by Sir Edward Coke, tliat it was not till this period that the English law assumed any appearance of regularity or strictness in its principles, will be regarded as worthy of no slight attention. That, with the exception of this branch of learning, knowledge was pursued at this period but in the most superficial manner, we have the testimony of the notable Friar Bacon himself. In the account he gives of his studies to Pope Clement IV. when dedicating his ' Opus Majus' to that pontiff", he says, that he had expended altogether forty years in the acquisition of knowledge, but that he would undertake to teach any man of diligence, moderate capacity, and willing mind, all the learning he possessed in the space of half-a-year. The mystery which appears on the face of such an assertion, he explains away by expressing his conviction, that he could teach his pupil enough Hebrew in three days to understand the Scriptures, and that it would not take a longer time to make him acquaintetl with Greek, so that he might comprehend what- ever had been written in that language. With regard to the sciences, geometry he considers could be taught in a week, and arithmetic in no time at all. Of course these expressions are to be taken as those of a man humbled at the discovery which his own superior mind and ex- perience had enabled him to make of the narrowness of the scope to which the science of the age was confined. The testimonies borne to his learning by many eminent scholars aff'ord a proof that, whatever were the ditficulties with which he had to contend, he had overcome them as far as they were to be subdued by human intellect. Bishop Jewel instances his work ' De Idiomate Linguarum,' as a proof that he was able to judge of the Latin, Greek, and Hebrew tongues.^ Dr Friend, in his history of physic,^ not only says, that "he was the miracle of the age he lived in," but that he was "the greatest genius perhaps for mechani- cal knowledge which ever appeared in the world since the time of Archi- medes." The same writer observes the little notice which is taken oi this remarkable man by the historians of his time, and exclaims with just * Storia, t. iii. lib. iv. c. 7. * Uissertation i. c. 1. " Dtfence of the Apology. Pt. iv. c 15. ' I'ari ii. p. 235. TO TinRD PERIOD. 297 iiidij^nation tliat " so extraordinary a genius would surely have as well deserved to have had a plaee in their writinfjs, as the detail of a blazing star, (jr a bloody shower, wiiieh they never fail to rcLjister at large; and tliat it migiit per]ia{)s have been of iv< much use and j)leasure to the reailer, as a long recital of the rise and fall of a great minister, or the wars and victori{>s of our kings." Tiie remarks of Bacon on the limited extent of his knowledge, taken ill connection with the circumstance, that because of that which he possessed he was regarded as a magician by his countrymen, throws great light on the general state of learning in England at the period of which we are speaking. But it is not to be lost sight of, that Bacon received a great part of his education at Oxford ; and that, thougli he resided and studied some time at Paris, it was in the retirement of the former university that he made most of the acquisitions which have be- stovvcnl such celebrity on his name. This circumstance forcibly shows how important an influence the establishment of the universities of Ox- ford and Cambridge had on the progress of both literatui« and science. The libraries they as yet possessed were very small, but they afforded an incomparably wider field for research than would have been opened to the student witliout their establishment. No private individual could have collected a suflicient number of books for carrying on the simplest branch of inquiry, and it would have been vain for him in those days, to seek a retirement sufficiently secure from vulgar intrusion to enable him to pursue his inquiries in tranquillity or safety. The Franciscans had, a few years before the accession of Edward, begun to distinguish themselvfs at Oxford ; and an anecdote related of one of the superiors of their house there, will serve to show how great a conflict had yet to take place between scholasticism and natural or practical science. Going one day into the school where the celebrated Robert Grosseteste was then lecturing, he found the pupils rehearsing, as it was termed, their questions. To his surprise he heard that the subject of their ex- ercise was Whether there is a God? "Alas, alas!" he exclaimed with unaffected disgust, " ignorant simplicity is daily gaining heaven, while these learned disputants are arguing about the existence of heaven's Master." Anxious, it is said, to prevent his pupils from so dangerous a waste of their time and ingenuity, he immediately sent to Rome, and obtained for them the best copies that could be procured of the Decre- tals.** To the diligence of the Franciscans is ascribed the large collec- tion of manuscripts which was soon afterwards made to the great bene- fit of literature. Nor was Bacon the only Englishman of celebrity who belonged to this order. It numbered in its ranks Alexander Hales, tiie master of Duns Scotus, and of the learned Italian doctor and cardinal, Bonaventura, a man who is said to have been only second to Aquinas himself. LeJand describes Hales as both a philosopher and a theologian of the highest worth, and states — which is important to our purpose — that tiis lectures were attended by a numerous auditory who regarded him as little less than a divinity.^ This popularity of our accomplished and erudite scholar proves that there was already a class of persons in the kingdom who had sufficient inclination, as well as leisure, to devote themselves to literary pursuits, and that what was now chiefly wanting ' Beiiiistoii's Lit. Hist, of Mid. Ages, p. 364. ° Comiiientaiii ile Script. Britt. p. 'do3. I. 2 p 298 HISTORICAL INTRODUCTION for the rapid advancement of the nation in intellectual refinement was peace, and the appearance of writers, who leaving the obscure paths of study should win philosopliy to converse on tliemes of which every heart could comprehend the value. The firm footing which Aristotle and the schoolmen still kept in all the great avenues to knowledge left this task in a great measure to the poets ; but the writers of that class who appeared in the reign of Edward the First possessed few of those graces Avhich were likely to secure popularity to their works. The most distinguished of them were Robert of Gloucester, and Robert Mannyng, or Robert de Brunne. Both these writers composed a metrical chronicle of Eng- land, commencing with the most fabulous period of its history. It is generally allowed that neither of these productions possesses nmch poe- tical merit, and that they afford but a dibcouraging specimen of the progress of the language. They contain, however, a plentiful store of traditionary tales, intermixed with some practical precepts of wisdom «\'hich could hardly fail of proving useful and acceptable in the age when they appeared. Still more closely alli(>d with the affairs of life were the ballads produced at this period, in some of which there is a vein of satire which we should hardly have looked for at such a period. It is remarked by Warton, that the character of English poetry began to be changed about this time; that fictitious ad\( ntures were now sub- stituted in the place of merely historical or traditionary incidents ; and that the rude simplicity of the native English was gradually yielding to a more ornamental style of expression.'" In the reign of Edward the Second, the taste for poetical romance gained new strength, and forms the principal feature in the literary annals of the period. It had long been the custom with jiersons of rank and wealth to entertain minstrels in their houses ; and the ])assion for the poetry of romance increased with the means for its gratification. The crusades had given birth to events well-adapted of themselves to the purposes of poetry, and had aided the importation of those new and gorgeous materials of verse which in no age could have failed to delight and captivate the imagination. There is also a cir- cumstance which well-deserves to be considered, but which does not a;jpear to have attracted the attention it deserves. Most of the wealth- iest families in England could by this time boast of having had some member of their house celebrated in the histories of the day for his prowess in the fields of Syria. The just pride of some, the vanity of others, and the sympathy of all, would thus be strongly excited by every allusion to events in which their personal feelings could so easily find an interest. Romance thence became something more than the luxury of youthful minds, or the amusement of the gay and indolent. The minstrel who could invent with ingenuity a tale of chivalry, had it in his power to confer honour on the most exalted rank, and as the refinement of manners increased, the distinction bestowed by his art would become more and more esteemed. The reign of Edward the Second was ill-adapted for the advancement of learning, or any species of literature, but the seed of knowledge is not prevented from vegetat- "' Hisi. vol. i. p. 111. TO THIRD I'KHIOl). 299 ing while it is yet in the ground, tliougii the plants it afterwards pru- duces may be blighted. In the splendid reign of the suceecding inonareli, botii po(.'try and philosophy sprung rapidly forth. The works of Oceaui and of Burley, — tlie one honoured by his contemporaries with the title of the ' invin- cible doctor,' the other with that of the ' pisrspieuous doctor,' — bear testimony to the keen appetite with which tiie studies of the schools were ])ursued, wliile the immerous metrical romances whieii bi^ar the date ofthis period attestwith (npial force tlie advancing statcof our poetry The abolishment of tlie use of French in legal alfairs which took place in this nngn, had no doubt an important inHuence on the literature of the country. That language had been hitherto cultivatful by the learned as only second to Latin for tlie purpose of communicating their ideas, and Grosseteste and other poets employed it in tiieir most admired and popular compositions. Had the English been thus brought into use among the higher classes of the nation at an earlier period, it would not, it may be conjectured, have so rapidly ac(|uired the strength and polish for which it was soon after distinguished. But the refine- ment of manners which took place in this reign, the elegance which characterized the amusements of Edward's court, and the general dif- fusion of a taste for poetry by means of the new romances, rendered its cultivation when thus introduced a matter of necessity ; and we conse- quently find that the language of the writers who lived but a short time previous to the present period, can b(!ar no comparison either for force or harmony with that of the poets who now laid the foundations of our national literature. Tiie names of Chaucer and Gower, with some of minor note, a^ those of Ricliard Ham])ole and Robert Longlande, af- ford ample proof of this commencement of a new era ; and in the suc- ceeding reign v/e see both poetry and every other brancii of literature exercising a powerful influence on maimers and opinions, the best and truest sign of the simultaneous progress of knowledge and civilization. Those branches of science, however, which bear most directly on the affairs ol' human life, were as j'^et but little cultivated or understood ; and it is related that such was the ignorance of even the best instructed classes on the subject of geography, that when Lewis of Spain was made prince of the Fortunate Isles, or the Canaries, by Clement VI., the English ambassador at Rome, together with his retinue, thought that it must be England which the pope had given away, and hastened home M'ith the terrible news. The historian couples this notable anec dote with the information given by Speed, that there were tlien thirty thousand students in the university of Oxford alone, and asking what was the occupation of all these young men ? answers, " To learn very bad Latin, and still worse logic."" A somewhat exaggerated account is here given of the number of students, if we take that word to mean only such as actually frequented the university for the purposes of knowledge. But making allowance for those who were mere idlers in the place, a very striking proof is afforded by the above statement of the rapid progress which a taste for literature was making in tlie nation. With regard to their learning only very bad Latin and worse logic, it may be observed, that nothing " liiiliit;, vol. II. ji. ili. could be taught in the universities but such branches of knowledge as the age possessed, and that such institutions are generally known not to be remarkable for anticipating the world in discoveries of practical importance. But that very bad Latin was taught may be fairly disput- eil. England had already produced some writers in that language whose compositions will bear the examination of severe criticism, and who employed it on subjects which required a fluency and grace of expres- sion not to be obtained without a profound acquaintance with all its niceties. John of Salisbury, author of the Policraticon, Alexander Neckham, who wrote a poem on Divine Wisdom in seven books, and above all, Joseph of Exeter, whose musical and elegant verses are universally admired,'^ were examples in Latinity which could not be without their influence ; and though the taste of the age led the greater number to study Statins and Ovid rather than Virgil, there is no doubt but that the Latin language was written by the scholars of the time with considerable taste as well as fluency. It is not so easy, perhaps, to soften the historian's aspersion of the logical studies of the university ; but happily for the interests of truth, those principles were about to manifest themselves which, by bringing every species of knowledge to the test of sound reason and historical testimony, assign to artificial rules of argument the precise place and value they ought to hold in the iiitellectual system. With the poets and philosophers who graced the reigns of Edward the Third, and of the unfortunate Richard the Second, appeared a man whose noble ta- lents, and the part he performed in life, give him a right to the highest stand among the celebrated personages of the time. Wickliffe was pro- foundly learned, — he was not less acquainted with Aristotle than the most bigoted schoolmen, but he saw that logic could have nothing to do with the foundations of religious truth — as Bacon did in a subsequent age, — that it could never properly be made the vehicle by which to ar- rive at the knowledge of nature. So great was the esteem he acquired bv the various and deep stores of erudition which he possessed, that his elevation to the professorship of ilivinity was eff"ectcd in defiance of the whole body of the mendicants. This indicates not only the in- fluence he must have himself enjoyed in the university, but the change which was gradually going on in the feelings and opinions of the nation at large. The mode of teaching which he pursued greatly contributed to accelerate this change, and while it tended to establish religion on its only proper basis, could scarcely fail of opening the most unwilling eyes to the hindriinces which the other modes of scholastic instruction opposed to the spread of information. Above all things, his translation of the Scriptures acted as an engine of immeasurable force in dissipat- ing the dense clouds of error against which human ingenuity must have ever proved unavailing. A love of reading, and even a disposition tor inquiry, was thereby diff"used among every class of the comnmnity ; and the taste thus inspired, springing from the strongest feelings of the hu- man heart, and being fed with the healthiest nourishment the under- standing can receive, would be far more permanent than a similar prin- ciple implanted among the people by means of a difll'rent kind. The effects of his labours in this respect may be well understood from whaz " Wailcn on the Introduction of Learnir.g in Eiiglaud, p. 1G3. TO THIRD PKRIOD. 301 ia said of them by an adversary: "Christ," observes Knyghtori, *' coin- iiirttcd tlio gospel to the eh'rgy and doctors of the church that they siiight minister it to the hiity and \veak(!r persons, according to the exi- gency of times and persons* wants; but this M;uster John WickliHe translated it out of Latin into English, and by that means laid it more open to tlu! laity and to women wiio could read than it used to be to the most learned of the clergy, and thosi' of them who had the best un- derstanding. And so the gospel-pearl is cast abroad and trodden under swine ; and that which used to be jjreeious to both clergy and laity, is made, as it M'ere, the common jests of both, and the jewel of the church is turned into the sport of the laity " The state of things here de- scribed presents a strange contrast to that which prevailed in the country a very few years before ; and the careful observation of this period of our national history will afford the inquirer light for a considerable portion of the path he has to explon,-, till ho arrive at the greater era of change and reformation. In the earlier periods of English history or biography, that of which we are now speaking is, therefore, by far the most inte- resting. The preceding portion is sometimes wrapped in obscurity, and wh(!n it presents a clear surface for observation, the energies of the human mind are seen lying dormant under the grievous oppression of superstition, or wholly employed on some one object of immediate de- sire. In the portion which intervenes betv/een the period we are upon and the reign of Henry the Eighth, we see but the developement of principles now beginning to operate — the employment of agents of which the power was now for the first time discovered. Liberty, though still subject to violence, drew strength from the circulation of intelligence ; learning, as we have seen, though still having her home in the cloister and the schools, began to go abroad in the world ; and while much of the wealth of the higher ranks was expended in pleasure, a part of it wa-s employed in the encouragement of architecture, and the oth(;r branches of the tine arts. Poets found a patron unknown to their predecessors. A public now existed, and Chaucer and his contem- pt)raries were respected by the great as men who could find a brighter fame in the world than in princely halls. The cultivation of poetry tlience became an occupation in which persons of wealth and independ- ence might engage without becoming classed with the minstrel-flatterers whom they succeeded. Both Chaucer and Gower were engaged through life in the duties of an arduous profession, and their composi- tions abound in proofs that they found better materials for poetry in their intercourse with the world at large, than they could have collected in the courts of the greatest monarchs. Among the prose writers of the period, Henry Knyghton and Ralph Higden devoted themselves to historical composition. But history requires a more advanced stage of society, of knowledge and philoso- piiy, than poetry. It makes no sudden approaches towards perfection, — the wisdom it works on is accumulated rather than discovered, and England had yet to see several generations of eminent poets and phi- losophers succeed each other before the appearance of an historian of corresponding merit. Of the men who, in addition to their own labours, contributed by their patronage to advance the cause of improvenuMit at this period, one deserves especial mention, William of Wykeham, who, l)y die foundation of the college at Winchester, and of New College, Oxford. 302 HISTORICAL INTRODUCTION set a noble example to the wealthy churchmen of the country, and placed tlie importance of education as one of the gifts of rich benevolence in a proper point of view. Not a single poet of any repute graced the reign of Henry the Fourth. The only writer deemed worthy of mention is Johannes Cu- pcllanus ; and his claim to notice rests wholly on a translation of the treatise of Boethius, ' De Consolatione Philosophic' into English verse. Henry, however, is stated not to have been without literary taste. He invited to England Christine de Pisan, distinguished as one of the most elegant memoir writers of France.'^ His conduct towards the young prince of Scotland, afterwards James I., is a still better in- stance of the respect he entertained for literature, and of the state of education in his reign. Jam.es having been taken prisoner in his pas- sage from France, whither he had been sent by his father while very young, was kept a prisoner in England eighteen years ; but during that time " he was so instructed and taught," says Hall, " by his school masters and pedagogues appointed to him by the sole clemency of Henry IV., that he not only flourished in good learning and fresh li- terature, but also excelled in all points of martial feats, musical instru- ments, poetical art, and liberal sciences, insomuch, that at his return from captivity, he furnished his realm with both good learning and civil policy, which before was barbarous, savage, rude, and without all good nurture."'* The son and successor of Henry IV. was a far more decided pa- tron of letters than that monarch himself. Having been educated at Oxford under the care of his uncle. Cardinal Beaufort, he was versed in the principal sciences of the age, and had acquired a respect for ](arning and ability which rendered him an intelligent as well as will- ing protector of men of genius. Both Lydgate and Occleve acknow- ledge him as their patron. The former in his prologue to the transla- tion of the History of Troye, declares, that it was only at the com- mand of the king that he would venture on the worK, but that the monarch insisted upon his attempting it : Because that he had joye and deuitye To reade in bokes of old antiquitye.'* Nor is it but of the most magnificent patrons that poets are in the cus- tom of writing in such a style as that in which he speaks of the king's likeness to his father : — He eldest son is of the noble king, Henry the Fourth of knighthood well and spring. In whom is shewed of what stock he grew, The rootis vertue cin thus the set renew : In every parte the tarage is the same, Like his falher of manners and of name. Occleve addresses him in terms still more flattering : — Hye and noble prynce excellent! My lord, the prince! O my lord gracious! '* Turner's Hist, of England during Mid. Ages, vol. ii. p. HOa '* Ibid, note '* "Wrt rre of Troye, p. I . TO THIRD PERIOD. 303 I, humble servautit., and obedient Unto your cstati;, hyu and fjlorioiis, Of wliich I am full tcndir and lull jeloiis, Mt! rccommende motiarch was present : — My lord thn prynce, God him save and blesse, Was at liis dedily castigacion. And of his soule had ftrete temiirnesse; Tliurstyng sore hi-; salvacion. Grete was his piteous lanientacion, When this lenegate would not blynne Of the styiiking errour that he was jnne. But, notwithstanding the favour which Henry the Fourth and hi-^ distinguished successor displayed towards tiie poets, learning is reported to have rather declined than advanced during their reigns, of which signs could be discovered at an earlier date. Wood assigns as one of the chief reasons for this circumstance, the power which the popes ex- ercised in the English church. Let it not be presumed, he observes, that we were without some apology. When the Roman bishops con- ferred our benefices and our ecclesiastical dignities on strangers, while even our most learned men spent their days without profit, or were compelled to skulk under the monkish cowl, what inducement was there to pursue studies in themselves not possessed of any charm ?" But this could scarcely be considered the cause of the decline in literature, at the period of which we are speaking. Henry the Fifth paid particu- lar attention to ecclesiastical affairs, and though blind to the doctrinal errors of Rome, was not of a character to allow any interference on the part of the pope with the management of the national church. The archbishopric of Canterbury was no sooner vacant, than he promoted to that see the celebrated Henry Chichely, to whose boldness and vigour the English church was in a great measure indebted for the preservation of its liberties. Both he and Waynflete, bishop of Winchester, followed the example of Wykeham, and founded colleges.'* But the interests of literature were not to be secured by these means alone. Henry the Fifth, in his ambition to acquire renown as a conqueror, lost sight of tiie virtues which better became the king as well as the man. With all liis accomplishments and his supposed respect for learning, he was not less the slave of bigotry than the most uneducated of his subjects. In his reign the Lollards were made to feel the utmost fury of their enemies, '" De Illus. Aug. Si-riptonhus, p. 587. " History of Oxford, 13US, &c. '" berington Lit. Hist. p. 5^, 50k 304 HISTORICAIi INTRODUCTIOX iind truth and justice were taught the bitter lesson, mat they luighl plead in vain if they came to tlie bar with religion. In such a state of things, learning and philosophy could not bu* retrograde. They may far better advance when opposed by error that has been undisturbedly gathering strength for centuries, than when met by prejudices which have been shaken, but are re-asserting their autho- rity. From the period of which we are now speaking, down to that of the Reformation, truth had to struggle perpetually against the worst enemies both of moral and intellectual good. The love of chivalry had given a seeming sanctification to war, and the polish which society de- rived from its precepts of gallantry, legitimatized the most odious vices. It was fi'om the lips of licentious soldiers that youth were to learn the rules of life, — from courtly women they were to derive their knowledge of religion. The aid of the scholar and the churchman was not required till his education was complete, and he waited to have his sword laid on the altar. It was only in the pomp and ceremony of the institution that religion had any thing to do with chivalry ; but the church was satisiied with the jmrt it was allowed to take in the management of the order, and for the zeal which the knight professed in the defence of its rights, it consented to believe that the cross he bore on his shield was a true emblem of his heart and conduct. Catholicism, thus indulgent to the false but glittering system which exercised so powerful an influence over manners, inspired the schoolmen with a more determined love oi Aristotle and his logic, — continually forged new chains to keep down the rising spirit of inquiry, — taught the people to regard Roger Bacon as a magician, Wicklifie as a pest to society, and all who presumed to doubt the infallibility of the pope, as the ministers of Satan. To these causes may be ascribed the slow progress which literature made during two or three reigns after that of Edward the Third, com- pared with its state at that period. In the reign of Henry the Sixth. Lydgate, still the principal poet of the age, was chiefly engaged in translating from fhe French, or in versifying traditions to gratify the vanity of monks. What portion of classical learning he possessed, was mixed up with the wildest fables of romance, and the principal Greek writers are named by him almost in the same manner as the old heroes of chivalry. There was, however, no indifference on the part of the people to the improvement of minstrelsy, and Vv arton adduces evidence to prove that the minstrels of this age were not unfrequently better paid than the clergy. In the year 1430, at the feast of the fraternity oi the ' Holie Crosse,' at Abingdon, in Berkshire, twelve priests are stated to have received only fourpence each for singing a dirge, while the twelve minstrels who took a part in the amusements, were paid two shillings and fourpence each, besides being provided with refreshment for themselves and horses. Another case of a similar kind which oc- curred eleven years after, is adduced to show the same remarkable fact. Eight priests who were hired from Coventry to assist at a ceremony in the church at Mantoke, were paid but two shillings each, while the six minstrels engaged on the same occasion, received each of them double that sum, and were allowed to sup with the sub-prior of the monastery in tlu painted chamber, which was lit up by the chamberlain with eight large wax tapers. The want of respect for ecclesiastics v/hich this would seem to imply, is the more ditticalt to be explained when the TO TIIIIII) PERIOD. 305 character of the age is considered. Tliere was no indifference to the rites of the church on the j)art of the people, nor wa.s there a deficiency of talent, considered without reference to their errors and prejudices, in tlie ruling menil)t>rs of the establishni(;nt. Some names occur in tlie history of the period which deserve a resp((etable place among English ecclesi;istical M'riters. Such an; those of Thomas VValdeiisis, of whom it is said, that his works were the repository whence suljsequcsnt contio- versialists drew many of their most favourite arguments ;'^ VV'alsinghain the historian, Henry Chichely, WaynHete, and others, wiio both l)y their ability and the energy with which they deftjnded what was then the most popular side of the controversy, ought, it would seem, to have secured bcttfcr patronage for their brethren. Had the inferior payment above mentioned bt>en confined to the monks or priests engaged at ceremonies, we might have accounted for the circumstance by suj)pos- iiig that the ecclesiasti(!s thus employed were usually the least learned members of the church ; but we find th.at the same low rate of paymcnit extended to preachers of some rank and learning. The prior of the monastery at Mantoke — who gave, as we have seen, four shillings to the minstrels who sung at his festival — paid a doctor prcdicans but sixpence for a sermon. The inference to be drawn from all this is, that tiie po- pular mind was yet in its infancy ; that it had not yet begun to take any dee]) interest in subjects which require reflection; and that changes and improvements had to be looked for which should alter the state ol the great mass of the people, before literature could be expected to ad- vance with equal and steady steps. The reign of Edward the Fourth commenced amid the confusion of civil Mar ; and the jealousy of the monarch, combined with the tunmltu- ary spirit which pervaded the nation, produced a state of things ill cal- (!ulated to promote the cause of learning and general intelligence. How little freedom of speech the people enjoyed may in some measure be understood from an anecdote related of the king's concluct soon afler he ascended the throne. A London shopkeeper to whose house was affixed the sign of the ci'ovvn, laughingly said that his son should be heir to the crown. Strange to relate, Edward on being informed of the expression, directed that the unfortunate man should be apprehended, and soon after signed the order for his execution."" The prosperity, however, which attended the close of his reign was favourable to the improve- ment of the nation, and circumstances are on record which indicate an increasing respect for literature on the part of the higher ranks. Though the uistitution of the office of poet-laureate has contributed little to the improvement of the national muse, it served to mark, at the time when it was introduced, a higher degree of veneration for the poetical art than had existed in previous reigns. We have observed the respecta- bility which literature appeared to be on the eve of acquiring in the times of Chaucer and Gower since then minstrelsy seems to have been oftener heard of than any of the more genuine species of poetry; and it is a favourable sign of Edward the Fourth's regard for literature thai we hear in his reign for the first time of a laureate poet. The custom of crowning successful bards had been early observed by the Provencals, and it hail travelled from them into German;^ and Italy. In some of " Pits, de lliust. Aug. Script. Leland. Coin, tie Script. Brill. «" Hume, vol. 111. Ed. IV. '• 2 o 306 HISTORICAL INTRODUCTION the places where it was adopted with greatest zeal, it appears to have been amalgamated with the mass of figurative rites and ceremonies, which rose out of the same state of feeling as those of chivalry and many of the catholic churches. In Italy, Petrarch had introduced it from a sentiment in which veneration for his art, self-love, and patriotism, had all a part. But wherever it prevailed, it invested the poet with a species of dignity which greatly enhanced the value of his calling, and placed him not only on a level with the scholars who figured in univer- sities and academies, but with the men who boasted of their titles derived from courts and princes.'^' Warton regards the appellation as it appears attached to the name of the king of England's poet, simply in the light of an academical distinction, and adduces numerous instances in which persons who took degrees in grammar at Oxford, were styled Poeta. laiireati'f- It is, however, singular that no poet should have been men- tioned before this time as king's laureate ; and whether we consider the title as given by the monarch, or a^ enjoyed by this court-poet as his proper academical distinction, it is evident that it was a title of honour which had not been usually borne by persons occupying the office of royal bard. Of the state of literature, the productions of the period give but a very unfavourable opinion. Harding's Chronicle, which stands fore- most in the list, is characterised as " beneath criticism, and as fit only for the attention of an antiquary." But Harding was a man of some rank, had both experience and influence, and employed poetry, how- ever little genius he possessed, on themes of interest and importance. A similar indication is given of the common employment of poetry on subjects of practical utility, by two other winters of the age ; and it may be remarked, that one of the first and surest signs of growing intelligence, is the approach of one species of literature and one branch of science to another. Norton and Ripley, who were two of the most distinguished chemists of the day, both wrote poems on the mysteries of their art ; and the rank which they held as scholars throws light on the state of natural philosophy at the time when they flourished. The learned Ashmole, who published their poems out of zeal for ' Herniet- ique science,' observes, that Norton is allowed to have been the great- est alchemist of the age, but that indecent and abusive censures have been passed by his biographers on the study in which he was skilled. " Indeed, every one," remarks the indignant editor, " that is educated a scholar, is not born to atiect or be happy in every art ; some love one, some another, but few all." '^ Norton himself thus speaks of his science, and it will be seen how strongly the theological spirit imbued what were considered in those days the highest branches of philo- sophy : " Maistryefull, meiveylous, and archinastrje, Is the tincture of holi alkiniy; A wonderful! science, secrete philosophie, A singular grace and gift of th' Almightie ; Whidi never was founde by labour of man, But it by teaching, or revelation begaun. It was never for niony sold ne bought, By any man which for it hath sought : " Stlden on Titles of Honour. " Hist. vol. U. p. -141. " Theatrum Chemicum, Notes, p. 437. TO THIRD rKRIOI) 307 Hut pivt-n by an able man by sraoe, Wronplit with {•rcatc cost, witli loii^,' laysir and space. It liulpetli a man %vhun he Iiath nccdu ; It vo_\(lelli vain fjloiy, hopo, and also drearlK ; It voyiluth ainbitionsMcsse, extoicion and cxcussk ; It fi:nci;lli adversity tiiat she doe not oppresse. Pie that thereof hath his lull intent, Forsjiketh extremities, with measure is content." AlliT replying to some of the ol)jections to the art wliich, even in that day, it appears were current among the people, he says: — " Therefore noe man shoulde be too swifte. To cast away our Lord's blessed gift: Consideringe how that Almighty God From great doctouis hath this science forbod, And graunted it to few men of his mercy, Such as be faithful trew and lowly. And as there be but planets seaven Among the multitude of stars in Heaven, So among millions of millions of mankinde Scarslie seaven men male this science fitide. Wherefore Lay- men ye may lere and see How many Doctors of great authoritie, With many searchers hath this science sought, Yet all their labouis have turned into nought; If thei did cost, } et found thei none availe, For of their purpose every t\me thei faile ; And in despair thei reason and departe, And then thei said how there is noe such arte; But fained fables thei name it where thei goe, A fals fond thing thei say it is alsoe : Such men presume too much upon their minde. They weene their witts sutHcient this arte to finih;.'' In the account he gives of tlie distinction between a true and a false alchemist, he lays clown the following rules : — " Now ye that will this science pursue, Learne ) e to know fals men from trew. All trew searchers of this science of alkimy, Must be full learned in their first Philosophic: Else all their laboure shall them let and grieve. As he that fetcheth water in a sive ; The trew men search and seeke all alone In hope to finde our delectable stone. And for that thei would that no man shulde have losse, They prove and seeke all at their own coste; Soe their own purses they will not spare, They make their coffers thereby full bare, With greate patience thei doe precede, Trusting only in God to be their speede."*' The other work to which we have alluded is similarly indicative of the character of a large class of learned men, who, about this time, struggled hard to advance the sciences, but expended their efforts in a wrong direction. Ripley's book, is entitled, ' The Compound of Al- chymie : a most excellent, learned, and worthy worke, written by Sir George Ripley, Chanon of Bridlington, in Yorkeshire, containing twelve Gates.' It is dedicated to King Edward the Fourth, whom the " Norton's Ordinall. p. J— 17. autlior addresses in an epistle of great courtesy, and abounding in the praises of alchemy. His caution to the monarch respecting secrecy is a curious specimen of his style : — •' For like it you to trust that trewlie I have found The perfect waye of most secrete alchimy, Which I wyll never trewly for merke ne for pounde Make common but to you, and that conditionally That to your selfe ye shall keep it full secretly, And only it use as may be to God's pleasure, Els in tyme comming, of God I should abye For my discovering of his secrete treasure. Therefore advise you well wyth good delyberation ; For of this secrete shall know none other creaturs But onely you, — as I make faithfull protestation, For all the tyme that I here in lyfe endure : Whereto I wyll your Lordship me to ensure, To my desyre in thys by othe to agree, Least I should to me the wrath of God procure ; For my revealing his greate gift and previtie." " The language of the poem throughout is that of the chemists and otlier natural philosophers of the age, and affords a valuable index to the state of science at the time when it was written. In the ' Liber Patris Sapientiae' which follows, instructions are given in a phrase- ology which shows how little refinement had as yet been introduced into the language of even cultivated minds. Of the zeal with which, to their ruin, the adepts in alchemy pursued their object, some idea may be formed from this portion of his advice : — " If thow put out mony for any other thing. It is to thy losse; and to thy great liindring: Except )t be for th\- workers natural! foode. Which is had out of stone, ayre and wood.'' The short reign of Edward tiie Fifth, and that of tlie usurper Rich- ard, put a stop for a while to what few advantages literature and sci- ence had received from court patronage. No writer of eminence graced this period of fear and trouble, and the historian and biographer have to record the actions of those only who expended their ability and energy in opposing a domestic tyrant. A taste for versification had become pretty generally diffused, and there appears to have been no want of poets of an inferior class ; but they were the successors of the popular minstrels of a former age, and as they had the refuse onlj- of legendary lore on which to work, they owed their temporary repu- tation to the charm which simple rhyme possesses among an uneducated people. There were, however, some few writers who occupied a sta- tion in society which would have prevented their seeking fame as authors, had not the nation been becoming every day more intelligent, and more capable of appreciating the worth of intellectual culture. William of Nassyngton, wlio translated a work on t!ie Trinity into English verse, was a proctor in the ecclesiastical court at York ; the sister of Lord Berners, who was ])rioress of the nunnery of Sopewell, composed a work in English, on hawking, hunting, and armoury, or "^ Theatrum Cheinicuni, p. 110. TO THIRD PERIOD. 309 licraldr)' ; aiid what is still more wortliy of observation, Robert Fabyan, who wrote a Chronicle, or Coiiconlaiiee of Histories, and some otiier works, was a London tradesman, who had served the offices of sheriff and alderman. But this writer ought rather, perhaps, to be placed under the reign of Henry the Seventh, when the kingdom began to recover from the eH'eets of the ruinous disorders to which it had been subjected, and knowledge received those important additions to its means of advance- ment which have ever since prevented it from retrograding. That education of a liberal order had become conunon among the middle ranks of society, is evident from the case of Fabyan himself, who, though a tradesman, was re])uted for his classical acquirements. The numerous authorities, also, whom he quott's in his ' Concordance of Histories,' affords a proof that, by this time, the stores of general in- formation were rapidly increasing, and becoming more and more fami- liar to the nation. It has been judiciously remarked, moreovi;r, that though he was not altogether free from superstition, he was no great lavourer of monastic institutions, or the legends they upheld. Thus, in speaking of the holy oil at llheims, he says, " To this report every man may give credence as hym lyketh. For I fande not this wryten in the Gospell, nor yet in no booke of Holy Scripture;""'' an obser- vation the more remarkable, as Fabyan does not appear to have ever associated himself with the Lollards. It is ])lain from these circumstances, that the people of England were not unj)repan'd to a\ail themselves of the new opportunities of improve- ment which were about to be afforded them. The invention of print- ing took place at a time when it seemed wanting to determine the va- cillating energies of the nation to pursue the track of truth and science. Had it occurred during the destructive disturbances of war and civil tumult which engaged the minds of men in the cares of self-protection, the scholars of the day would probably have heard of it with unprofit- able curiosity ; the few calls of the ]iublie for literary works would not have been sufficient to show the value of the discovery, and the profes- sional student Avould have been obliged to remain contented with his manuscripts. Had printing not been known till a later period, the in- creasing stream of thought and intelligence, wanting fitting channels through which to discharge itself, would have run to waste, and been lost on the surface of mere temporary topics, while the growing appe- tite for knowledge m ould have been daily tampered with by a few hardy speculatists, and would have only led by its keenness to the most ab- surd and dangerous expectations. The employment of printing in this country was preceded by the rise of a very general taste ibr the classics. A notion had long pre- vailed among the few distinguished men who doubted the perfection of the old system, that the grammatical and critical study of the best an- cient authors, would be more favourable to the mind, than its total confinement to the subtleties of logic. Jesus college at Cand)ridge was founded by Alcock, bishop of Ely, with an especial view to this object. Warton observes, that it is probable " that the academical pupils in grammar, with which the art of rhetoric was commonly "' The New Cluoii. ol' EiisliiiscI and Fnincu, edit, by tilis. 310 HISTORICAL INTRODUCTION joined, instead of studying the real models of style, were chiefly trained in systematic manuals of these sciences, filled with unprofitable defini- tions, and unnecessary distinctions ; and that, in learning the arts ol elegance, they acquired the barbarous improprieties of diction which those arts were intended to remove and reform."^'' It is also well known that, when Dean Colet founded Saint Paul's school, such was the pre- judice entertained by some of tlie heads of the church against the study of the classics, that a bishop declared that the place deserved to be styled a house of pagan idolatry. But both the bad taste, and the prejudices which had so long prevailed, gradually vanished as the com- munication with foreign countries for literary purposes became more frequent ; as greater facilities were afforded for the perusal of the an- cient writers, and the nation obtained sufficient repose to indulge in the pursuits of peace. The study of Greek was commenced in Oxford at the instigation of two of the most distinguished scholars of the period, Grocyn and Linacer. They were, however, violently opposed in their endeavours to impart to England the means of improvement which had already begun to operate so beneficially in Italy and France. For a long time the university was divided into two parties ; those who fa- voured the new study taking to themselves the name of Grecians, — and its opponents as naturally assuming the appellation of Trojans. But too many circumstances operated on the side of the more erudite party to allow of its being exposed to a defeat, and besides the advantages it enjoyed from the better state of the nation, it derived no slight assistance from the character of the monarch himself. Bacon has beautifully as well as forcibly delineated the peculiarities of Henry's disposition. " He was," says he, " a prince, sad, serious, and full of thoughts and se- cret observations, and full of notes and memorials of his own hand, especially touching persons, — as whom to employ, whom to reward, whom to inquire of, whom to beware of, what were the dependencies, what were the factions, and the like, — keeping, as it were, a journal of his thoughts."^^ Of his pursuits, he remarks, that he was ' more studi- ous than learned ;' and, of his natural ability, that ' the sight of his mind was like some sights of eyes, rather strong at hand, than to carry afar off'.'^^ Under a sovereign of this character men of learning and ability, especially if those qualities appeared conjoined with pru- dence, were more likely to find their talents duly appreciated than un- der one of a less cautious disposition. His acquirements, however, were sufficient to inspire him with a respect for letters ; while the prosperity and calm whicli distinguished the latter years of his reign, left him at leisure to observe and examine, the best methods of promoting both commerce and the arts. By his politic treatment of the nobles, the middle classes rose into wealth and consideration ; and, though some of his regulations were founded perhaps on contracted views of govern- ment, and his love of accumulation induced him to encourage his mi- nisters in an unworthy system of peculation, the nation found itself at the conclusion of his reign, surrounded with better prospects, and pos- sessed of more numerous means of acquiring opulence, and securing its privileges than it had ever before enjoyed. The progress of improve- ment corresponded to tliese auspicious circumstances. More than one "' Hist. Sa. xvii. vol. ii. *' Hisl. of Henry VII.. Works, vol. v. p. igo. «» Id. J9l. TO THIUD rERIOI). 311 species ot'pojnilar amusement exiiibited signs of advancing intelligence. The drama, tlioiigli still in swathing clotiics, and devoted to religious shows, began to be attended to with sonic care and taste. Graniniar schools were erected in almost every quarter of the kingdom ; and i" coniiiiunity was now in existence capable of ibresecing the advantages which would result to the next generation from such institutions. A great change, in fact, was on the eve of taking ])lace, and the country fei'(!ined to feel conscious of its ajiproach. A new order of things was about to call forth the whole strength of the national spirit, and it seemed to be already gathering together and preparing its forces foi the better enjoyment of truth and liberty. I. POLITICAL SERIES BORN A. D. 1238 DIED A. D. 1307. It is impossible to enter on the details and discussions connected with the biography, whether personal or political, of this distinguished mo- narch, without a conviction that we are treading new ground. Cir- cumstances had occurred during the troubled reign of his father, which gave a determination to the course of events, not thereafter to be coiitrolied, however it might be resisted or modified, by the ablest or most powerful rulers. The regency — ingenious, indeed, but still liable to the inherent infirmities of an imperfect authority — of Pembroke ; the popular measures of de Montfort ; and the fluctuating temper of Henry, lidd given to the people — plebs, as contradistinguished from jwpulus — a feeling, with which it was perilous to trifle, of tlieir weight and im- portance in all political calculations, and in every estimate of the na- tional strength : nor was it among the least remarkable circumstances of the time, that the individual wlio was, in virtue of his rank, called to take the lead in this novel and critical state of things, was also emi- nently gifted in all the qualities necessary for the maintenance of his authority and influence amid doubtful claims and dangerous res})onsi- bilities. His personal advantages were not less conspicuous than his mental endowments. His commanding stature, sinewy frame, majestic countenance, and active movements, fitted him for the chieftainship of a spirited nation, warlike in its habits, conscious of its strength, te- nacious of its rights, and struggling resolutely against the depressing and enthralling domination of prejudice and prerogative. Irascible and fierce in his resentments, he was yet singularly ])lacable, and al- though firm of purpose, he gave v.-ay with the pliability of a seasoned politician to urgent and immediate considerations. Never were the ' uses of adversity' more happily exemplified than in his instance: young as lie was when first compelled to engage in the strifes of war and \)0- lic}', he proved himself equal to the emergency, nor was he less the af- fectionate son than the enlightened and energetic prince. He was the stay of his father's tlirone ; the sharer of his captivity ; and he ulti- mately rescued yiim from his enemies, and established his authority on a firm foundation. His early youth appears to have been of a vicious and turbulent cha- racter. He associated himself with riotous and lawless companions, and there are statements in the contemporary historians, which repre- sent him as permitting, if not encouraging, in the retainers of his court, the most violent and licentious courses. From this cloud, how- ever, he speedily broke fortli, and held his after-journey along a brighter path. He was an accomplished knight, skilful and intrepid in the tour- ney ; and when, on one remarkable occasion, at a tilting-match in fo- reign parts, it was sought to effect his defeat by fraud and force com- bined, his dexterity and coolness gave him signal victory. A power- ful opponent finding it in vain to assail him with the lance or the sword, seized him at unawares in a strenuous grasp, and sought thus to bring him to the ground. Edward, whose length of limb gave him immoveable firmness in his seat, sat like a rock, and giving his horse the spur, forced his antagonist from the saddle, and easily shook him to the earth. He was little more than eighteen when he entered, un- der most difficult clrcumstanct^s, on the practical part of government, nor was it possible to blend more of wisdom and dignity than was ex- hibited by him in a situation that might have made a veteran statesman doubtful "of his course. When the ' mad parliament' had, by the pro- visions of Oxford, reduced the crown to a mere dependence on the aristocracy, the signature of the prince was insisted on as an essential particular of the contract between the king and the malcontent barons. Edward, young as he was, surrounded by dangers and left to his per- sonal resources, hesitated long, and only yielded at last to the convic- tion that no alternative was left. Yet, when afterward he was urged to break through a compact imposed by force, and accepted from sheer necessity, and rendered null by the violence and bad faith of the other contracting party, he refused, although circumstances encouraged the attempt to avail himself of the occasion ; nor did he draw the sw ord un- til events had rendered inevitable the appeal to arms. His military character was famed betimes. In his first battle, he missed the crisis of victory, by yielding to his impetuous courage ; but, in the conduct of his second fight, he extorted the admiration of the most consummate commander of the age. Some time before his father's death, Edward had, in the language of one of our annalists, ' undertaken the crusado ;' and a sufficiently inte- resting romance might be manufactured out of the apocryphal details which have been blended with his real adventures. The truth may be stated in brief space. He landed with 1000 soldiers at St John d" Acre, auo-mented his army to 7000 men ; repelled the Saracens who assailed him on his march, and made himself master of Nazareth. With a small band of active w^arriors, he succeeded in surprising a large assemblage of natives in the celebration of one of their great festivals. The rout was complete, and the plunder immense ; but the unresisted slaughter was savage and degrading : non-combatants were not spared, — men, women, and children, were unrelentingly butchered. Finding all ef- forts against him in the field unavailing, the dagger of the assassin was em])lnyed, but the activity and strength of the prince saved him from ileaili ; and to this simple statement has been added an affc-cting but PF.Rion.] EDWAED T. 313 altogether poetical incident: his wife, Eleanora of Castile, is said to have applied her mouth to the wound, and to have drawn forth the poison with whicli the weapon had been ;uioiutcd. Tluit the })oniard w;w envenomed is probable ; and it appears certain that gangreiu' — the theet either of the unguent or of the climate — ensued ; but as truth intl gallantry are not always in alliance, for the lady's lips we nmst read the surgeon's knife, and, though it be not so set down, perhaps the actual cautery, in those days of rough chirurgery, was fretiuently applied to wounds. A truce with the soldan left Edward at lii)erty to return home, but his progress through the intervening countries w;us rather a continual ovation than a journey ; and though he received at Sicily the intelligence of his father's death, it was nearly two years af- ter that announcement, ere he entered his capital in pomp and glory, amid the acclamations of his people. Tiie passionate and vindictive qualities of Edward's temper were n )t permitted to interfere with his general policy, however their violent outbreak in the hour of success might tarnish the counsels or the ac- tions of which they were the sequence. His intellect was vigorous and forecasting, calculating all the probabilities, and providing against all casualties. His great political scheme, from the very outset, seem* to have comprehended the complete subjugation of (jreat Britain; the reduction of the independent kingdoms of Scotland and Wales under his own sovereignty. And so much of power and subtlity did he em- [»loy, with such overpowering force and fierce determination did he make his inroad, that in one instance he succeeded, and in the other his exertions ceased only with his death : in both cases, whatever of success he might achieve, was in great part due to those internal dis- sensions and treacheries with which both countries were vexed, and which he maintained and promoted with most unscrupulous policy. While only prince, he had led an English army over the Severn ; but now, when vested with regal power, he addressed himself to permanent conquest. The first campaign, aided by all the formalities of bell, book, and candle, and sanctioned by act of parlianaent, terminated in a hollow and transient truce. A second invasion, conducted on sound principles of strategy, placed the English army in the rear of Llewellyn's defences: that brave monarch fell in a reconnoissance, and the moun- tain-fastnesses of his people were stormed and destroyed. In a calmer period, and under a more liberal system, it awakens surprise and anger, that the valour of a patriotic king, dying in defence of his country, could not secure his remains from insult : his heail, encircled with ;i mock diadem, was set upon a spike for the edification of the men of London.' The hurdle and the gallows were his brother's fate. Cam- bria was annexed to England, and placed under English institutions : nor was it the least felicitous of political devices, that assigned a Welsh fortress as the birthplace of an expected son, and invested the young Cambro-Briton with the title of the Prince of Wales. It would be un- just to the memory of Edward, stained as it is with savage and re- vengeful perpetrations, not to add, that the imputed massacre of the Welsh bards rests on no adequate authority. Scotland was a higher prize, and its conquest a harder game. '1 he ' ITtmiiig, 1. K'j.— Duiist. 4^75. I. '2 R 314 POLITICAL SERIES. [Third Cwinri, notwithstanding the excellence of their bards, were little bet- ter than savages ; and their half-armed militia, without leaders, were hunted down and dissipated after the deaths of David and Llewelyn. But the men of the North met the Southron on equal terms. Less refined, probably, because less commercial, there was no inferiority in aught that related to the science of government and the custom of jjoli- cical association. The Scottish horse was inferior both in number and equipment to the baronial chivalry of the south ; but, though over- whelmed by ' England's arrow-flight,' while the battle was at a dis- tance, the heavier weapons of tiie northern infantry seem to have had the advantage when the fight was hand to hand. Want of mutual con- fidence and co-operation was the bane of Scotland in the hour of her depression ; but there never lacked leaders, brave and skilful, even to her failing cause. Wallace, Douglas, Randolph, the Bruces, were among the most accomplished officers of their day, and they might have dictated their own terms as the price of their submission ; yet, though danger and a bloody death on the scaffold or the field menaced the holy insurrection, they put all to hazard for the independence of their country, and, after a long and doubtful struggle, effected their noble purpose. Edward's first measures for the union of the two coun- tries had been wise and honourable. He negotiated a marriage be- tween his son and the heiress of Scotland, and the treaty had been concluded on terms satisfactory to both nations, when the whole scheme was rendered vain by the death of the princess. Edward, iiowever, was not content to have his favourite object thus defeated, and he pressed steadily and unscrupulously forward to its attainment. The power of England was not only physically and economically greater than that of Scotland, but her strength was concentrated under the connnand of an able and politic monarch, while the energies of the latter were exhausted in domestic broils, and misapplied by dishonest counsels. At least a dozen claimants were clamouring for the crown and in evil hour Edward was made the referee, — a measure which might have been the result of mere timidity, but which has marvellouslr the aspect of treacherous compact. It forms no part of our plan — - assuredly it was none of Edward's — to settle the question of personal right, in the controversy of Bruce and Baliol ; it is quite enough to observe, that when the sovereignty was awarded to the latter, the king of England exhibited a much more accurate knowledge of individual chai-acter, than disinterested regard for the well-being of the nation which had chosen him as umpire.^ He availed himself of the occasion to set up the most extravagant claims, and a large concession of feudal rights gave him a solemn investiture as seezerain of Caledonia.^ The parchment king took the oath of fealty, and kept it so long as there was no temptation to break it: but in 1295, an opportunity offeruig of alliance with France, he listened to bolder counsels, and forwarded to England a formal renunciation of his fealty. Edward received the document with stern contempt. " Does the senseless traitor play the fool after this fashion ? If he come not to us, we will go to him." His general, the earl Wareime, gained the decisive battle of Dunbar; Baliol surrendered, and military possession was taken of " Hemiiig: 1. 30. » llym. II. 512—^^0. ri:ui(.i..] EDWARD I. 315 tlie northern kingdom. In the meantime, the war with France \va;5 ill conductt'd by the English leaders, and Edward himself land- ed in Flanders, but the farther i)roseeuti()ii of hostilities was termi- nated by a truce, and the Scots wen; left to their own resources. This state of things would, proljably, have remained for some time undisturbed, but for the rigour and rajjacity of the men to whom the management of the king's ati'airs in JSeotland h;id been committed. It was attempted to oppress as a coiujucred nation, a brave and high-spirited people, and that selfish and dastardly policy met with its just reward. A man — one of that class which never finds a congenial field of action, but in the agony of nations — stood boldly forward in vindication of his injured country. Opposed or imperfectly aided by a jealous nobility, William Wallace was constrained to rely on his own exertions, and on such help as might be obtained by his own popularity and by the sanctity of his cause. Strong both in nujntal and bodily frame, he was e(jual to all emergencies; and if his actions were not al- ways under the direction of a mild and regulated moralitj', — if he were sometimes sanguinary and vindictive, — his excuse, so far as it may be permitted to extenuate, is to be found in the circumstances of his country and the temper of his times. His exploits, on a smaller scale, were ro- mantic and almost uniformly successful; by his skilful dispositions, and the strange infatuation of the enemy, he gained a great victory at Stir- ling; and when irretrievably defeated at Falkirk, it was from no defect in his plans or dispositions, — they were perfect, but treachery betra^'cd his movements and crippled his manoeuvres. Yet, though Edward in person connuanded against him, not even the presence and personal ex- ertions of that great master in the art of war, could prevent him from effecting a soldierly retreat. This was in 1298 ; seven years afterward, Wallace, who had never ceased to harass the enemies of his nation, was betrayed to his pursuers. His death was by the hangman's hand, with all the bloody circumstance of a traitor's condemnation ; and the treachery of the false friend who guided his captors, with the mean and barbarous revenge which doomed the patriot to a felon's fate, have con- signed to infamy the names of Monteith and King Edward.* Still Scot- land, though crushed, was not subdued; the unconquerable spirit ot freedom kept alive a dubious and exhausting conflict; and the remainder of Edward's reign was wasted in the ineffectual struggle. A greater than Wallace took the field, and the royal Bruce commenced that series of bold and well-conducted efforts which gave, in the event, indepen- dence to his country, and a crown to himself. The treachery ol Comyn, — its home charge upon the traitor by Bruce, — the fierce and in- sulting denial, — Bruce's hasty dagger, — and the ' Mak sicker' of Kirkjja- triek, were the turning point of a course of history scarcely rivalled in romantic interest and glorious achievement. This exhibition of the character of Edward's principal antagonists was necessary for the thorough illustration of his own. Those remark- able individuals tasked the utmost ettbrts of his power, and but for tlu'ir opposition it is impossible to guess how widely his ambition might have ranged; he was not, however, a man to dissipate his strength by multi- l)lying his objects, and he adressed himself with intense and undivided ' VVcsl. 451 — Stow, 40'J. — I'oiduji, Boece, lUiclmiiaii, Biiiul Hari), p;issiin. 316 POLITICAL SERIES. [Tmuc purpose to the conquest of Scotland. All the * pomp, pride, and cir- cumstance* of chivalry were displayed in the preparations, and at lengtii he poured on the Scottish frontier the full tide of war. No effective opposition could be anticipated, since the small army of Bruce had been ruined by the fatal result of an attempted camisade at Perth. But a mightier hand arrested the invader on his path. His health had long been failing, and on the 6th of July 1307, in the 69th year of his age, and the 35th of his reign, -^ he died at Burgh on the Sands, " in sight," says Lord Hailes, "of that country whicli he had devoted to destruction." Edward's reign was, notwithstanding the pecuniary exactions conse- quent on an almost unceasing state of war, on the whole, beneficial to England. His fiscal necessities constrained him to important political concessions; reluctantly, however, and with an ill grace, did he make them, nor were they confirmed until after the persevering employment of every possible method of evasion. In truth, his character admitted the smallest possible portion of the magnanimous. Without fear, and without weakness, he was also destitute of those relentings of our com- mon nature, without which resolution becomes obstinacy, and justice degenerates into brutal revenge. He has been called, by a strange confusion of cause and efl'ect, the English Justinian, and it is admitted that during his reign great improvements were made in both the system and the administration of law. The ecclesiastical courts were shorn of their injurious privileges, and abridged of their usurpations; the secular tribunals were reformed, and their distinct jurisdiction ascertained by specific definition. The courts of assize were regulated ; the police of the realm was made more efiicient; justices of the ])eace were made permanent; entails were secured; the practice of sub-infeudation was done away; the abuses of mortmain were restrained. Yet of all these salutary enactments, but a slender proportion is due to the sagacity or patriotism of the monarch. Tiiey were the work of parliament, wirh the king they were considered as mere ways and means. Edward was the huckster of reforii), and rated his concessions to his people at the value of gold: he had a tariff of constitutional amendments, and each of them was duly and securely taxed. He haggled with his parliamcTit, tried all methods of raising his price, and tasked his ingenuity to get the highest charge for the smallest possible abatement of prerogative. With all his faults, however, Edward was a splendid prince. If he were not like the Alfreds and the Charlemagnes, an outrunner of his age he was at least one of its brightest ornaments. He had no taste for the mere trappings of royalty, — his crown was worn on his coronation day, and then laid aside, — his dress was simple, and his habits of lilie temperate. His munificence was kingly, and he was steady in his at- tachments. His domestic conduct was exemplary: son, husba«d, father — in all these relations he was worthy of the highest admiration. He persecuted the Jews, it is true, but in that day it vvas esteemed a virtue to heap insults and exactions on that doomed race ; yet Edward vvas no bigot, and the expulsion from a commercial country, of an en- tire caste of active merchants and extensive capitalists, was a measure oi' which the impolicy did not altogether escape the shrewd and ob- Aitrvant even of that ill-informed period. * Rym. ii. lOaiii. PiiiuoD.J EDWARD n. 317 BORN A. D. 12b4- DIKU A. D. 1327. Ii- the brilliant reign of the first Edward have tcniptrd us somewliat Ik yond our assigned lin)its, wv. may conveniently allow ourselves to trim the balance by a more cursory review of the inglorious rule of his de- generate son. His was the reign of favourites ; to them and to his caprice he sacrificed his tranquillity, his kingdom, and his life. As heir-apparent he had, by his excesses, repeatedly provoked the repre- hension of his father. His companion, from a very early age, had been Piers de Gaveston, the son of a knight of Gascony, and with this j'outh he ran a wild and profligate course, until the king, shortly before his death, banished the injurious associate, under oath from his son never to r-ecall him.' The oath was kept so long as violation was impossible, but its obligation was forgotten or rejected when he assumed the crown. Gaveston returned, and with him came revelry, splendour, waste, po- vei-ty, exaction, remonsti-ance and rebellion. Few kings have ascended the tin-one under circumstances more pr-omising. Prepossessing in ex- terior, vigorous and active in fi-ame, and, it should seem, with enough of intellectual quickness to have carried hinr through the easy task of royal representation with dignity and grace, the waywardness of his tenrper, and the pervei'se obstinacy of his self-Avill, neutralized all these advantages, involved him in perpetual storms, and at last left him hope- lessly stranded. Never was any human being so utterly reckless of ap]iearances and consequences in the childish detei'mination to have his own way In the indulgence of his ca])ricious preferences he outraged the law, insulted his nobles, alienateil his queen, and oppressed his people. His first step was prophetic : the recall of Gaveston gave true indication of his chai'acter, and he never either contradicted or retrieved the folly of that weak and unseasonable act. He lavished on his rapa- cious favourite, honours and treasure ; dismissed or imprisoned his fa- ther's faithful ministers, and suspended the invasion of Scotland for s\ Inch a formidable and expensive armament had been prepared. Nor did Gaveston bear his faculties nu^ekly. At the coronation he assumed the place of honour and precedency ; shamed wealth and nobility in his dress and pei'sonal attendance ; coiitenmed the petition of the barons for his immediate exile ; and having, by his address in the tournament, mi- horsed sevei-al noblemen of the highest rank, in his pride and petulance laughed them to scorn. His enemies, however, were too powerful, and his banishment was decreed ; yet even this ovciwhelming opposi- tion did the infatuated Eilv.ard strive to evade by appointing him to the viceroyalty of Ireland. Edwai'd's accession was in 1307 ; early in the following year he mar- ried Isabel of France, one of the loveliest women of her time ; and the exercise of a slender portion of conmion sense and rectitude of principle might have made him happy and respected. All, however, was in vain; his pride and petulance were not to bo controlled, and every thing was put t(; the risk for that one wretched bauble on which he had set !.::^ » Ilvm. ii. lC4a. lioart. Partly by cajolery, partly by violence, Gaveston, after a brief absence, was brought back, but neither had learned wisdom: — the mi' serable game of haughtiness and outrage, concession and resumption was played over again, until affairs became desperate. The barons armed, and, after appointing a council of peers, under the name of Ordainers, for the redress of grievances, Gaveston concealed himself, re-appeared, was forced into banishment, returned, until at length ex- asperation reached its height, — ^war was levied against the king and his minion, and the latter perished in the strife. He appears to have been by no means destitute of eminent qualities, and a discreet conduct and courteous demeanour might have enabled him to maintain his position ; but he was vain and unprincipled, it was impossible to trust him, and he fell the victim of his own incurable folly. Edward was outrageous in his grief and anger ; he resisted strenuously the demands for an am- nesty ; but the barons were in arms, and he was compelled to yiehl. Gaveston was beheaded in June 1312 ; in October, pardons general and particular, were issued under the sign-manual. In the meantime Bruce had been availing himself to the utmost ot the opportunities given him by these injurious dissensions. By a series of gallant and well-managed enterprises, he gained possession of the principal fortresses of his kingdom, and pressed so closely the siege of Stirling, that the governor agreed to surrender if not relieved before the feast of John the Baptist. On the eve of that festival the army of Edward appeared in sight, and, on the 24th of June 1314, was fought the decisive battle of Bannockburn, an illustrious instance of the supe- riority of intellect over force. The advantage of numbers was greatly on the side of Edward ; but the Scots were under the direction of the ablest officers of the age. Bruce commanded, and he was seconded by Randolph and Douglas. Nothing could be finer than the position and arrangement of the Scottish army, and throughout the battle not an error seems to have been committed : the defensive system was maintained un- til its utmost effect had been produced, — the stratagems of war were skil- fully and seasonably employed, — and at the critical moment a bold offen- sive movement completed the success. On the other side nothing could be more miserably handled than the English army on that day : there was no presiding genius, — the subordinate commanders were rash, and the attack was made without support or simultaneousness, — no provision had been made for retreat, and all was dispersion and utter rout. Ed- ward displayed courage in the fight, but his escape was diflficult, and tried to the utmost the speed of his horse. The gain of this great battle encouraged the Scots to make strenuous efforts for the conquest of Ireland, but they were unsuccessful, and the death in battle near Dundalk, in October 1318, of the gallant Edward Bruce, left the English in undisputed possession. During three years after the battle of Bannockburn, famine and pes- tilence afflicted England, and that unhappy country seemed to be given up to an accumulation of miseries. The king and his most powerful nobles wore at variance ; desire of revenge filled his breast, and distru'it of his intentions prompted their movements, while the Scots, taking ad- vantage of these dissensions, pushed their inroads to the Humber and the Tyne ; they took Berwick, and an attempt by Edward to retake it railed. In the meantime the king, untaught by experience, wa.s renew- Prkiod.) EDWARD H. 319 ing his former fault, and attaching himself to a new favourite, who, in his turn, rt'-nowed tiio errors of Gavcston, and distinguished himself by his haughtiness and rapaeity. Hugh h- Despenser — anglicised to Spen- ser was tlie name of the individual who now became, ex n/firio, an ob- ject of hatred to the barons. They rose in arms, ])roscribed the Spen- sers, father and son, insulted the (pieen, and opened a correspondence with the Scots. This time Edward was successful, and he gratified hi- revengeful disposition by the execution of his most obnoxious adver- ;arie: riiis victory over domestic insurrection was followed by a truce witii Scotland, and it might have i)een hoped that an interval of quiet might have allowed the country a breathing-space from its disasters. But Ed- ward was the lord of misrule, and his adnunistration was doomed to misfortune. The king of France invaded Guienne ; conspiracies were frequent and alarming ; and the escape of Lord Mortimer from the tower of London set loose the most formidable of tlie conspirators. Calamity was now hastening on, and the credulity of Edward lent it speed. He suffered himself to be deluded into a fatal snare, devised, it is probable, by Mortimer, who had found an asylum with the king of France, Charles IV., brother of Edward's queen. It was the first object of this subtle man to obtain possession of the prince-royal, and for that purpose he intrigued successfully. Isabel left England for her brother's court, where she became the mistress of Mortimer, and they, soon after, on a specious pretence, persuaded Edward to send over the young prince. Measures were now taken for an invasion of England, and, in September 1326, Mortimer and the queen landed in Suffolk with an armed force. The king v.as friendless ; his capital rejected him, and he fled to Wales. His enemies pursued him without respite: the elder Spenser surrendered at Bristol, and died the bloody death as- signed to traitors ; his son soon after underwent the same fate. The tragedy was now hastening to its conclusion : the crown was declared forfeited, and Edward of Carnarvon was nominally succeeded by Ed- ward of Windsor, while the real power was exercised by Mortimer and Isabel.'^ But one step more remained, and this strange complication of folly, fraud, and violence was completed in September 1327, by the murder of the king. His character has been already sufficiently illus- trated, and we need not swell our pages by further exposition. There is, however, one event which occurred in his reign, which, though but slightly connected with his personal character, it were improper to pass without mentioning: — The order of the Knights Templars, established in 1118, originally poor, had become powerful and immensely rich. Their wealth was, probably, their crime ; the pope and the king ot France, Philip the Fair, seized upon their persons and dissolved the order: they were persecuted unrelentingly, and many of them suffered a cruel death. In England they were more leniently treated ; they were not injured in person, but their property was transferred to ih*- Knight- Hospitallers.^ • Kred. i. 'JoO. ^ Stat, at large, x. Ajip. 2X 320 POLITIC AI. SERIES. [Third Cijcmas, €avl at ilancastrr. DIKD A. D. 1322. Among Edward's English nobles, the most powerful was Thoinasj the grandson of Henry III., who united in his single person the five earldoms of Lancaster, Lincoln, Leicester, Salisbury, and Derby. He was the eldest son of Edmond, surnamed Crouchback, the favourite son of Henry HL Edward had received from his father a large portion of the forfeited estates of the rebellious barons, and many other magnifi- cent donations : lie had also obtained valuable grants from his brother, Edward I., and his mother, Eleanor. Tvvo successive marriages, first with Aveline, sole heiress of the earl of Albemarle, who, dying with- out issue, bequeatiied to him the whole of her vast possessions, and next with Blanche of Artois, daughter of Henry Lacy, earl of Lincoln, had vastly augmented Edmond's already extensive possessions, and this accunmlation of wealth and power was turned against the crown by his descendants. The confederate barons, while concerting measures for the overthrow of the hated Gaveston, placed themselves under the leadership of Thomas Plantagenet, Edmond's eldest son, now the first prince of the blood, and by far the most potent nobleman in the king- dom. He headed the armed barons who presented themselves in the parliament at Westminster, and extorted from their intimidated sover- eign an order for the inmiediate banishment of the man whom he most delighted to honour. Upon Gaveston's return to England, he raised and led on the army, which, for a time, set the royal power at defi- ance, and wielded the destinies of the kingdom ; and when that unfor- tunate minion was doomed to expiate his manifold offences against the haughty nobility of England on the scaftbld, the spot selected for his execution was fixed within the jurisdiction of the earl of Lancaster, who alone, of all the conspirators, dared to brave the highest resentment and indignation of his sovereign.^ In the negotiations which followed betwixt the king and his nobles, the earl of Lancaster still acted the most conspicuous and important part; and when a pacification was at last concluded betwixt the two parties, the approbation of Lancaster and his chief associates, who were absent at the time, was specially stipulated for by the rest. In 1316, when, yielding to the necessities of his situation, Edwarfl consented to the execution of the ' ordinances,' as they were called, and submitted to the other conditions imposed upon him by the predo- minating faction, the earl of Lancaster was appointed chief of the council, as well as commander-in-chief of the expedition then prepar- ing against Scotland. On tiiis occasion, the earl accepted the presi- dentship on three conditions : — That he should be allowed to resign if the king refused to follow his advice ; — that nothing of consequence should be done till he had been consulted ; — and that unprofitable coun- sellors should be removed, from time to time, by authority of parlia- ment. These terms were entered at his demand on the rolls.^ These Btipulations were wise and prudent ; but the influence of the royalists, 1 Walsing. 101.— T. de la .'More, 593. " Rot. Pail i. .S52. Pkuiod.] THOMAS, EARL OF LANCASTER. 321 notwithstanding, prevailed to such an extent, that Lancaster hesitated to uttund the rendezvous at Newcastle ])rovious to the Inroad upon Si'otiand, and absented himself likewise from two successivt; nie<'tinf^s of pariiaim lit. In justification of this conduct, he alleged his know- ledge of a clandestine correspondence betwixt Edward and the Scottisli monarch, and of designs having been formed against his own life by his enemies at court. Whatever truth there might be in either of these allegations, it is certain that the ])opular party hung together by ties of so slender a nature, that a bn^atli of suspicion might dissolve them. There were always men found willing to link their own fortune to that of their sovereign ; and if the influence of Lancaster had been even more predominating than it was, there existed a source of dissension in his own family, which nmst have gor.'i far to weaken his hands in so turbulent a period. His countess, Alice, only child of Henry, earl of Lincoln, who had brought her husband an immense accession of [)ro- perty, being the greatest heiress in the kingdom, appears to have lived unhajipily with him, and finally to have withdrawn from his house and bed, and placed herself under the protection of John de Warenne, earl of Surrey. The insulted husband instantly appeaicHl to arms, and had made himself master of several of Surrey's castles, and likewise of some belonging to the king, when, by the interference of the pope's legates and the earl of Pembroke, both parties were prevailed upon to suspend hostilities, and appeal their differences to a parliament to be held at Lincoln. In this appeal, the influence of Lancaster prevailed, and the ordinances were again confirmed. The rise of the Despensers, under the favour shown them by the king, was the next matter which supplied ' the turbulent Lancaster with a pretext for taking up arms against his sovereign. Success again attended his rebellious proceedings ; and on the same rolls, in which the order of banishment against the Spensers, father and son, was re- corded, a general pardon was also entered to the earl and his associ- ates for all treasons, murders, or felonies, committed by them up to that day.^ Lancaster's domination, however, was now drawing to a close. Impatient of the yoke which his haughty cousin had contrived to fix upon him, Edward had recourse to arms ; and being joined by a number of the barons, formerly confederates with Lancaster, but who now began to perceive the secret ambition which prompted his opposi- tion to the king, compelled Lancaster and the earl of Hereford, who made common cause with him, to retire into Yorkshire. Lancaster had long been suspected of secretly negotiating with the Scots ; he now entered into a formal alliance with the king of Scotland, an^fl, embol- dened by his promise of aid, advanced with his army to oppose the passage of the royalists over the Trent at Burton ; but liis plan of oper- ations failing, he retreated northwards, pursued by the royal forces who came up wi-th him at Boroughbridge, where his passage of the river was likewise disputed by Sir Andrew Harcla. Repulsed in the attem])t to force his way, and discouraged by the fall of his associate Hereford, who was slain in endeavouring to force the bridge, Lancaster returned into the town of Boroughbridge, probably in the hope that the promised reinforcement from Scotland might arrive during the night. • Kol. Pari, i aa-i. 1. 2 s 322 POLITICAL SERIES. TTinRD But in this hope he was disappointed, and on receiving a summons to surrender next morning he retired into the chapel, and having recom- mended himself to the mercy of heaven, resigned himself to his cap- tors, who conducted him to York. Here he was summarily arraigned before the king, six earls, and the royal barons, and was condemned to be drawn, hanged, and quartered as a traitor. The king was pleased to commute this ignominious punishment for that of decapitation, but his courtiers took care to signalise their own loyalty by heaping insults on the person of the traitor. On the 22d of March, 1322, being seven days after the battle of Boroughbridge, this once potent earl was led forth to execution from his own castle of Pontefract, on a lean jade without a bridle, to an eminence in the neighbourhood. The spectators pelted him with mud as he moved along, and taunted him with the title of King Arthur, the name which he had assumed in his correspondence with the Scots; but he bore their insults with calmness and dignity. " King of heaven," he cried, " grant me mercjs for the king of earth hath forsaken me !" On reaching the spot whicli had been fixed on for his execution, he knelt down at first with his face towards the east, but the malignity of his enemies was yet unsoftened, and as a last in- sult they ordered him to turn towards the north, that he might look upon his friends. He obeyed, and while in that posture his head was struck off by an executioner from London.* His associates, Bad- lesmere, Gitfard, Barret, Cheyney, Fleming, and several others were afterwards formally tried and executed ; and Harcia I'eceived for his services the forfeited earldom of Carlisle, — a boon which he was des- tined soon to forfeit in his turn for treasonable correspondence with the Scots. Lancaster's immense possessions being forfeited to the crown, were extensively employed in gratifying the rapacity of the Despen- sers; but the fortunes of the house of Lancaster did not long remain under a cloud. Thomas had died childless, but Henry, the second son of Edward Crouchback, contrived so to ingratiate himself with Ed- ward's son and successor, that in the first parliament of that monarch, he obtained an act for the reversal of his brother's attainder, wiiereby he became repossessed of the confiscated family estates. DIKD A. D. Ij26. The king's chief favourite after the death of Gaveston was Hugh Le Despenser, or Spenser, a young gentleman of English birth, of high rank, and ample fortune. His father, a baron descended from the Con- queror's steward, had been in high trust under Edward L, and he him- self held the office of chamberlain of the royal household. His hand- some person and agreeable manners won for him the favour of his sove- reign; while his marriage with a daughter of the late earl of Gloucester slain at Bannockburn, gave him possession of the greater portion of the county of Glamorgan. But these advantages rendered him so much the more an object of aversion and envy to the less favoured and ksse * Ryin. iii. 939. Pkriod.J HUGH SPENSER. 323 potent nobility. Waisingnam indeed represents liim as drawing upon liiniself tlie Iiatred of tlie other courtiers, and of the Lancatat loss, occasioned by one of the most tremendous tempests recorded in l-Luropean history. In no long tinu; after these events, j)eaee was coiKiluded, but the French derived little benefit from the cessation of arms. The ' com- panies,' as they were called, consisting of the soldiers of fortune who had been employed during the war, refused to disband, and setting military interference at defiance, maintained themselves by violence in the heart of France, until they were led by Bertrand du Gnesclin into Spain, to the assistance of the bastard Don Enrique, Count Trastamara, against liis half-brother, the legitimate Pedro, king of Castile. The latter craved the aid of the Black Prince. The battle of Najara, where Du Gueselin was beaten and made prisoner, replaced Pedro on his throne for a season ; but the climate of Spain ruined the health of Ed- ward, who lingered the remaining years of his life through a long and depressing malady. In the meantime, Charles V. of France was steadily pursuing a cau- lious but eft'ective system of policy, ostensibly pacific at first, but ter- minating in a war, not of battles, but of sieges and manoeuvres, — ex- hausting the means of the English by constant pressure upon their resources, and allowing them no opportunity of retrieving their losses by a decisive blow. At length the Black Prince, notwitiistanding his debility, took the field, and his antagonists retired. But his last act was a bloody deed, — a massacre of the helpless, — the women, children, and unwarlike burghers of Limoges, who had provoked him by what may have been treachery, but was probably mere cowardice, in deliver- ing up their city to the king of France. After this, his standard was no more unfurled : he returned to England, and lingered during six years, condemning, but unable to restrain, the mal-adniinistration of the kingdom, and seconding, to the utmost of his power, the etibrts of the 'good parliament' to reform the government. His death, June 8, 1376, threw the power of the state mto the hands of his brother, John of Gaunt (Ghent), duke of Lancaster, and the work of state-reforma- tion was roughly checked. The king seems to have been, for some time past, lapsing into dotage. His excellent queen, Philippa of Hain- ault, was dead, and a rapacious mistress tyrannised over liis closing years. He died, June 21, 1377. ' DIED A. D. 1330. AivioNG the partisans of the unfortunate earl of Lancaster, none acted so conspicuous a part in the transactions which disgraced the close of the second Edward's reign as Roger, Lord Mortimer of Wig- more, one of the most potent barons of the Welsh marches. After the battle of Boroughbridge, he had been condemned ibr participating in 332 POLITICAL SERIES. [Thike Lancaster's treason ; but his punishment was remitted for perpetual imprisonment in the tower of London. He had the good fortune, however, to make his escape, by corrupting the fidelity of his keeper, and, hastening to France, joined Edward's queen in lier exile in Paris, and was made the chief officer of her household. The graces of his person, and his fascinating manners, soon won upon her affections ; site gave him her confidence, and ultimately sacrificed to him her hon- our and fidelity.^ The views of the queen and her paramour were from the first di- rected to the deposition of Edward ; and they pursued this object with a resolution and boldness worthy of a better cause. But their success could not blind the people to their guilt. Sir James Mackintosh, in- deed, considers it doubtful how iar the licentious manners of the queen and her paramour rendered their government more generally unaccept- able in an age when such vices must have been scarcely known to an ignorant people, and could not be sincerely blamed by a profligate no- bility. Nevertheless, men began to pity the dethroned king and in- sulted husband, and the clergy publicly inveighed in their sermons against the scandalous connexion which existed between the queen and Mortimer. His elevation to the earldom of March increased the haughtiness and ambition of the favourite, and thus drew upon him the liatred and jealousy of the nobles ; while the measures of his adminis- tration, and particularly the dishonourable peace with Scotland, proved in the highest degree unpopular. Henry, earl of Lancaster, and Thomas, earl of Kent, entered into an association with several of the other leading nobility, for the purpose of resisting the measures of the favourite, and procuring the emancipation of the young king from his mother's influence ; they also resolved to call Mortimer to account for the murder of the late king, for depriving the regency of its proper influence and authority, and for embezzling the public treasure. But before matters came to an issue, Kent's courage failed him ; and by the intervention of some of the prelates, an agreement was patched up be- twixt him and Mortimer. Their reconciliation was in appearance only. A transaction of the most intricate treachery followed. Strange ru- mours were industriously circulated by the secret agents of Mortimer, that the late king was still alive, and Corfe castle was indicated as the place of his confinement. Meanwhile the earl of Kent received letters, undoubtedly forgeries, from the pope, exhorting him to liber- ate his brother from prison. Different messengers brought him various flattering promises of co-operation and assistance from several leading personages ; he was assured of aid from Scotland ; and Sir John Mau- travers, the chief actor in the late cruel tragedy in Berkeley castle, not only encouraged him in the belief that his brother was yet alive, but actually undertook to be the bearer of letters from him to the impris- oned king.^ Such were the statements which the earl himself on his examination by Sir Robert Howel, when apprehended on a charge of conspiracy against the existing government, ingenuously confessed : he also acknowledged that he had, in consequence of the encouragement then received, written letters to his brother. The infamous po- licy of the secret instigator of the whole plot was almost forced into • WalsiiTij. V>2. ' R"t. Pari. ii. 53. I'l Klui).] ROGER, LORD MOU'nMEK. 333 siglit during the proceedings which were directed against the unfor- tunate carl ; but iiis influence and tliat of the qut en still bore him tiirough. A })arliunient assembled at Winchester in l;330, pronounced sentence of deatii and Ibrfeitiire against the earl of Kent ; and on the 2Lst of March he was led, by tiie order of his nepiiew, to the placi' o' execution ; but so general was the sympatriy felt for ihe unfortuiiale prince, tliat it was evening before an executioner could be found to jx-rfonn the oHice. At last, after a painful suspense of several hours, a felon from the Marshalsea was induced, by a promise of pardon, to strike ort' his head.^ Mortimer lived to acknowledge tlie innocence of his victim ; but Edmund's fate would have been more generally pitied by posterity, had he not been known to have countenanced the proceedings of the queen's faction before, and rendered himself unpo- pular by his haughty and oppressive behaviour. To silence public clamour, however, it was found necessary to issue a proclamation, ordi^ring the sheriffs to arrest and imprison any one who should be heard to say that the earl of Kent was unjustly put to death, or suffered for any cause than treason, or that Edward of Caernarvon, the king's father, was still alive. Mortimer had now reached the highest pinnacle of his fortunes, and began to affect a state and dignity equal, or superior, to that of royalty itself. But the inevitable tendency of a continued and unmixed career of servility, treachery, and rapacity, soon became apparent in the cri- tical position of his affairs. All parties laid aside their reciprocal ani- mosities for a time, and united in their hatred of Mortimer, and reso- lution to bring the arch-traitor to condign punishment. Tlie king himself, though young in years, had long been galled by the fetters which he knew his mother and her minion to have placed upon him ; l)iit so closely was he surroundea by the emissaries of Mortimer, that he felt the utmost caution to be necessary for his own safety in prose- cuting any measures for the overthrow of the favourite. At last he, ventured to communicate his feelings to Lord Montacute, who en- gaged the lords Molins and Clifford, Sir John Nevil, Sir Edward Bohun, and others, in the design to seize the person of Morthr.er. The castle of Nottingham, in which it was known Mortimer would reside during the session of parliament about to be holden in that city, was fixed upon for the scene of the enterprise. When the time approached for carr3'ing their scheme into effect, Sir William Eland, the governor of the castle, being won over by Montacute, pointed out a subterra- neous passage leading from the west side of the rock into the castle, which was unknown to Mortimer, and through which he undertook to introduce the king's friends. Mortimer had received some dark hints of the conspiracy which was forming against him, and had taken every precaution to secure his own safety ; he had even informed the council of what he suspected, and boldly charged the young king with being ))rivy to the plot. But on the evening of the same day on which he made this statement, the conspirators gained admission to the castle through the subterraneous passage above noticed, and bursting into tile apartment of Mortimer, who was at the moment engaged in con- pijlliition with the bishop of Lincoln, led him away as their prisoner. " Heiiiiiis. 271. — liL'liiiul CullecU 4.76, SSii. 334 POLITICiU. SERIES. [Third Next morning the king announced by proclamation that he had taken the reins of government into his own hands. A parliament was immediately summoned at London for tlie trial of Mortimer. The principal charges exhibited against him were, — that he had accroached, or assumed the royal prerogative which parliament had committed to ten lay-lords and four prelates, — tiiat he had placed and displaced ministers at his pleasure, and set John Wyard to be a spy on the king, — that he had removed the late king from Kenilworth to Berkeley castle, where he had caused him to be traitorously mur- dered, — that he had inveigled the earl of Kent into a liilse charge ot treason, — that he had embezzled the royal treasures, — and that he had divided with his associates tiie twenty thousand marks already paid b}' the king of Scots.* The peers, after some deliberation, pronounced all these charges to be " notoriously true, and known to them and all the people," and condemned Mortimer " to be drawn and hanged, as a traitor and enemy of the king and kingdom." His associates. Sir Simon Bereford, Sir John Mautravers, John Deverel, and Boeges de Bayenne, were condennied to death at the same time. The favourite and Bereford were hanged at a place called the Elms, near Tyburn, on the 29th of November, 1300 ; but, as the other three were at large, a price was set on their heads. At the solicitation of the pope, the queen-mother was spared the ignominy of a public trial, but was ad- judged to have forfeited her estates, luid confined to her manor of Risings, where she passed in obscurity the remaining twenty-seven years of her life. noRN A. D. 1340. — niED A. D. J399. John of Gaunt, or Ghent, was the fourth son of Edward III. Trained to arms under the eyes of his warlike father, he early approved himself worthy of his descent, behaving, as Froissart tells us, very gallantly in many hard-fought fields. By his marriage with Blanche, the surviving co-heiress of Henry, third earl of Lancaster, the hon- ours, titles, and estates of that powerful house, became concentrated in his person ; but on the death of his first wife he contracted a still more splendid alliance with Constantia, one of the heiresses of Pedro, iurnamed the Cruel, in virtue of which he assumed the imposing title of king of Castile. On his return from Spain, his father's marked partiality for him, and the indications which he frequently manifested of an ambitious disposition, roused the jealousy of the Black prince, who beheld in him a powerfid and subtle rival of his own son. In the latter years of his father's reign, John contrived to manage all things his own way, by means of ' a huge rout of retainers,' who bore down all opposition in every quarter. Not satisfied with hector- ing the citizens of London, whose turbulent spirit was often directed against his measures, he embroiled himself with the prelacy by hi? persecution of Wykeham, bishop of Winchester, and even defied thf * Hot. TarL ii. 62. Siv. l-KiMoi.-l JOHN OF GAUTNT. 335 Vatican itself by the protection and countenance which he afforded to Wickliiie. When that v(>iK>ra!}le refornK^r was cited to appear before the primate and thi; bishop of Lon(h)n, Lancaster tf)()k his place beside him, and ordered a chair to be j^iven to him, that Ik; might sit in the presence of his accusers; and when tiu; bishop of London opposed this as disrespectful to the judges, a veliemeiit aittrcation ensued, in whieii Lancaster declared "that he would rather jjliick the bishop by th(; hair of his head out of the church, than he, would take this at his hand."' The assembled citizens, who bore no good will to the duke, supjiorted their bishop, and a great tunmlt ensued in which the duke narrowly escaped with his life. Mis palace in the Savoy was attacked and plun- dered by the mob, and their outrages were only staycnl by the inter- ference of the bishop himself. The mayor and aldermen of the city sought to make their peace with tlie duke by the most lavish protesta- tions of regret for what had happened, and of attachment to his person ; but his pride had received too severe a wound to be so easily soothed. He dismissed them from all their offices, and filled up the new magis- tracy with his own creatures. The apprehensions justly excited by John of Ghent's ambitious tem- per, induced the commons to petition King Edward on the death of the Black prince, to make a pul)lic declaration in favour of his grand- son, Richard of Bourdeaux. The transactions of the preceding reign were yet too fresh in their memories for them to dismiss their fears nf a new usurpation of the royal powers during the young king's minority ; and no one participated more fully in tlie general alarm than the princess Joan, the mother of Richard. But to the surprise of all, John of (Ihent was one of the first to tender allegiance to his nephew, and sub- mitted, without a murmur, to the decision of the barons, appointing twelve permanent counsellors in aid of the chancellor and treasurer, to tlirect the reins of government during the minority of the king. Rich- ard's first parliament showed that the influence of Lancaster was some- what on the wane ; and the ill success of an expedition to Bretagni', intrusted to his command, sunk him still lower in public estimation. Accordingly, in all the popular tumults of this reign, we find John of Gaunt specially marked out as an object of the people's dislike. When Wat Tyler's mob held sway in the city of London, they obliged thi; passengers not only to swear allegiance to King Richard, but also that they never would receive any king of the name of John : " And this," Bays Holinshed, " vvas the envy which tiu-y bore to the duke of Lan- caster, John of Gaunt." His palace in the Savoy was also again at- tacked and thoroughly sacked ; and lest their motives should be mis- taken, the duke's massy plate was cut into pieces, and his jewels ground to powder and mingled with the dust. Alarmed at these unequivocal manifestations of hostile feeling towards him, the duke retired into Scotland, where he remained until invited by royal proclamation to re- turn to England and authorised to travel with a body-guard for his better personal protection. Notwithstanding, however, of this act of royal grace, strong suspicions still continued to be entertained against him. and while employed in France in the month of May 1384, the council resolved ui)on his arrest, determined probably to this severe ' Fox. measure by the information afforded by a Carmelite friar of a conspi- racy havnig been formed for the purpose of placing the crown upon the duke's head. Informed of what was intended against him, Lancaster, on his return to England, contrived to escape the vigilance of his ene- mies and reach his castle of Pontefract, where he prepared for open resistance. In 1386, at the invitation of the king of Portugal, and induced by the hope of obtaining the crown of Castile, Lancaster, and his brother- in-law, the earl of Cambridge, led an army into Portugal to assist John against the king of Castile. His daughters, by both his wives, accompanied him, and he left the care of his possessions in England to his son, the earl of Derby. Richard beheld his uncle's preparations for departure with great pleasure, and in his anxiety to hurry him out of the kingdom, appropriated one-half of the supplies for the year to defray the expenses of the expedition. The enterprise was in its re- sults well-calculated to gratify the family pride of the duke, for the king of Portugal accepted the hand of Philippa, his eldest daughter by ids first wife, while Henry, the son and heir of the king of Castile, married Catherine, the duke's only child by his marriage with Constan- tia. Two hundred thousand crowns were paid to Lancaster to defray the expenses of his expedition, and an annuity of one hundred thou- sand Aorins was settled on him, and another to the same amount on his duchess. Meanwhile England was threatened with an invasion from France, and the cabal headed by the duke of Gloucester, was formed against Richard's administration. But the firmness which the young king so unexpectedly betrayed, aided by the support which both the duke of Lancaster and his son, the earl of Derby, animated by their jealousy of the rival pretensions of Gloucester, hastened to tender him, enabled him to avert the crisis, and chastise the aspiring insolence of the new rebel. When age had somewhat chilled the ambition of Lancaster, and he had thus ceased to be formidable, his nephew rewarded his services against the recent faction by granting to him for life the sovereignty of Guienne. And when, upon the death of Constantia, his second wife, the uxorious duke married Catherine Swynford, who was only a knight's widow, and had been employed by his first duchess to educate her daughter, in wiiicli situation she bore him three sons, the marriage was resented as a disgrace by all the other princes of the blood ; but the king himself, to please his uncle, approved of it, legitimated the chil- dren, and raised the eldest son to the dignity of earl of Somerset. He died in 1399, soon after the banishment of his son Henry. 0iv WBuUtv iHamti). DIED A. D. 1372 Few more illustrious names grace the annals of England's chivalry, than that of Sir Walter Manny. The son of one of the earl of Hain- ault's bravest knights, he amply sustained the honour of his gallant family in many a hard-fought field, and by his prowess contributed more than any single arm, with the exception, perhaps, of the Blacl' Period.] SIR WALTER MAN^rY. 337 Princo himself, to the success of those chivalrous expeditious which !•! Hgland undertook against the banded powers of France on their own soil. Though a foreigner by birth as well as by lineage, he made Eng- land the country of his ado])tion at an early age, and all his laurels were won in her service. We, therefore, hold ourselves fully entitled to class liim amongst those illustrious men whose names and fortunes are identified with the period of English history to which they belong. Wiien Isabella of England, accompanied by her soti, arrived at Valenciennes to solicit the aid of William, earl of Ilainault, against her husband, Edward II., the young Walter, whom the earl had taken under his own guardianshij) after the death of his father, won the friendshij) of the prince of Wales, and would have accompanied hiu) to England if his patron had not disapproved of the proposal at the time ; but he was soon afterwards sent over in the suite of the lady Philippa, Earl William's daughter, in the quality of page. His first martial service was performed in the camp before Berwick, when tliat place was vigorously besieged by Edward III. at the head of his northern nobles, and gallantly defended by Lord Marr and Sir Alexander Seaton. In the battle of Halidon-hill, so disastrous to the Scottish arms, Walt(>r de Manny bore himself so gallantly, that all confessed him worthy of the honour of knighthood, which the king bestowed upon him on the field. In 1337, Edward having resolved to invade France from the Flem- ish frontiers, the joint command of the expedition to open the Scheldt was intrusted to Sir Walter and the earl of Derby. The forces placed under their command on this occasion, consisted of 600 men-at-arms, and 2000 archers. The garrison, on the isle of Cadsant, commanding the navigation of the river, amounted to 5000 ; 1000 of whom were men-at-arms. As the English squadron bore down, Lord Derby, staiuling on the poop of his vessel, exclaimed to Sir Walter, whose ship was at a little distance, " What think you. Sir Walter, shall we assail these Flemings, or delay ?" " As wind and tide are in our fa- vour, it becomes us not to lose them," replied Manny, adding at the same time, " In the name of God and St George, let us run close on shore !" " In the name of God and St George, be it so !" rejoined the earl, and the signal for attack w^as instantly given by the trumpets The English archers drew their bows ' stiff and strong,' and quickly cleared the outworks of their defenders, while the barons and knights, with their men-at-arms, plunging into the sea, made good their land- ing, repulsed the headlong charge of the Flemish horsemen, and car- ried the whole works by assault. This success having opened the way for the English army, Edward soon afterwards arrived, and prepared to invest Cambray. In the meanwhile, Sir Weaker having collected fifty lances, proceeded to redeem a promise which he had made in the presence of certain noble knights and fair dames, that he would be the first that should enter France, and take some castle or stronghold. For this purpose he spurred with his gallant band through Brabant, and having gained the wood of Blaton, he there broke his design to his companions, and suggested that they should surprise the town of Mon- taigne. The proposal was received with acclamations, and the gallant band arrived at Montaigne a little before sunrise ; but although they entered the town without opposition, they found the garrison of the J 2 u 338 POLITICAX SERIES. [Tiiied castle fully prepared for them, and would have been speedily over- powered by numbers, had they not succeeded in making good their retreat. Sir Walter, however, was not to be thus baffled in his ob- ject. He persuaded his companions, instead of returning straight to the English camp, to diverge by Conde and Valenciennes in search of adventures, and the result gratified their most ardent wishes. The governor of Bouchain, mistaking them for the advanced guard of a great army, opened his gates to them ; and the castle of St Eveque, at no great distance from Cambray, was taken by a coup-de-main. In the fight with the powerful fleet of Philip of France, off the coast of Hampshire, Sir Walter Manny was the first to board the enemy. He sprung from his ship on the deck of the Christopher, and his ex- ample being followed by other knights, that huge vessel was speedily in the hands of the English. The fight has been described as a ' very murderous and horrible' one, but it ended in the total defeat of the Normans. We next find this star of chivalry engaged in the relief of the fortress of Hennebon, then gallantly held out by Montford's count- ess against Charles of Blois. At the head of a small, but select body of men, Manny cast himself into the town at the very moment when it was about to be given up to the enemy ; his arrival changed the face of affairs, and the negotiations for surrender being broken off, the troops of Charles renewed their attacks with more determined fury. A catapult of more than ordinary dimensions had greatly annoyed the townspeople by the enormous masses of stone which it cast into the place. Sir Walter was at dinner with the countess, when one of these projectiles came crashing through the roof of an adjoining house, to the great alarm of the ladies ; but Sir Walter instantly vowed to destroy the machine;, and rising fron.i table with the other knights, in a few minutes sallied forth from a postern gate, overturned and hewed the catapult to pieces, burned the sow, and threw the whole camp of the enemy into confusion. On their return, after having performed this gallant deed, the enemy, having recovered from their surprise, pressed hard upon them ; but the knights stood their ground until their archers and attendants had passed the ditch in safety, after which they crossed the drawbridge themselves, and were received with hearty gratulations by the townspeople, while the countess " came down from the castle to meet them, and with a most cheerful countenance, kissed Sir Walter and all his companions, one after another, like a noble and valiant dame." The consequence of this sortie was, that the corps employed in the siege under Prince Louis of Spain, abandoned their camp the same evening, and marched to join Charles himself before the castle of Arrai. From this latter place. Prince Louis marched upon Dinant, which opened its gates to him, and then passing into Lower Brittany, landed at Quiraperle, and proceeded to lay waste the surrounding country. But Sir Walter, hearing of these proceedings, resolved to have another and bolder stroke at his enemy. With the sanction of the countess, he placed his men-at-arms and 3000 archers on board of ship, and set sail for the harbour, where the fleet of Louis lay. On his arrival at Quimperle he found the enemy's vessels but slightly guarded, and immediately made himself master of the whole. He then set out to intercept tiie prmce, who, with 6000 men, was hurry- ing back to the coast, having learned the arrival of his antagonist. PiiRioi..] SIR WALTER MAKNY. 330 They met, and a fierce conflict ensued, in which Louis's whole force was nearly cut to ])iec('s, or made prisoners, the prince himself only escapiiii; with a small retinue. On his return to Hennebon, Sir Walter assaulted and took many places of considerable streni^th, but little could be done towards the ultimate deliverance of Brittany, without fresh reinforcements from Ed- ward. Carliaix fell into Charles's hands, and Hennebon was again in- vested. Tiiis time the siege was pressed more vigorously than before ; but the courage and resources of De Manny seemed to rise with the diriiculties of his position. Hearing that his friends. Sir John Botclor, and Sir Matthew Trelawney, who had been made prisoners by the enemy, were about to be sacrificed to Prince Louis's thirst for revenge, he called his knights around him, and proposed that they should im- mediately attempt the rescue of their comrades. The plan proposed was sufficiently daring ; but the courage and high enthusiasm of the parties engaged in it, directed by the genius and indomitable valour of De Manny, secured its success. The prisoners were relieved at the very moment when they expected to be led forth to execution ; and Charles, perceiving that Hennebon, with such defenders, was not likely soon to fall into his hands, dismissed the greater number of his follow- ers, and retired to Carhaix. In the campaign in Gascony with the earl of Derby, Sir Walter gave ample evidence of his being possessed of the higher qualities of a military commander. The fall of Bergerac was chiefly due to his skill in combining the most rapid movements with the most deliberate and well-advised plans of attack. Town after town, and ca^stle after ca^^tle, fell before his genius, till the English standard floated over almost every stronghold in Gascony. One of the most splendid victories obtained by the English arms in this campaign, was wholly due to the valour and sagacity of Sir Walter. The earl of Derby, with Manny in his train, had marched to the relief of Auberoche, then closely invested by the count de Lisle. Orders had been sent to Lord Pembroke, who commanded at Bergerac, to join them on the march ; but before he came up, they found themselves with a force of only 300 men-at-arms, and 600 hobeler archers, in the presence of De Lisle, at the head of 10,000 men. In this emergency, De Manny's counsel was prompt, but wise : — '* Gentlemen," said he, addressing a council of war, " it were a shame to us were our friends to perish, and we so nigh to them. Let us mount our horses, skirt this wood, and advance upon the ene- my's camp. We will come upon them unexpectedly, just as they are sitting down to supper, and with St George to aid us, they shall be discomfited." The proposal was well received, and instantly put into execution with complete success. The French were beaten down be- fore they knew whence their assailants came, and De Lisle himself was taken prisoner. The winter of 1344-5 was spent by Manny in well-earned indul- gence amid the gaieties of the viceregal court at Bourdeaux ; but the campaign was early opened by the duke of Normandy at the head of a large army, and the indefatigable Maimy required no summons to the post of danger or enterprise. The important castle of Aiiguillon was threatened, and Sir Walter, in the face of 100,000 men, threw himself into it with 300 nu^n-at- aims, a cor])s of arcliers, and good store of 'meal.' In the month of May, the duke of Normandy sat down before tJiis stronghold, but October came and its gallant defenders still held out as vigorously as ever. At last the besiegers determined to cross the river and cut of all means of foraging from the garrison. A bridge was with this view constructed at a prodigious expense of labour, but just as the troops were about to put themselves in motion upon it, Manny let slip three heavy vessels, which carried down by a rapid cur- rent, struck the props and swept them away. A second bridge, stronger and better provided with the means of warding off a similar attack, was instantly constructed ; but Manny, in a single night, cut down or ren- dered abortive the labour of several weeks. Again, De Lisle resumed his bridge-building, and with more success ; his army crossed the Ga- ronne, and the castle was assaulted without intermission for several successive weeks. Battering-rams were wrought incessantly against the walls, — catapults and other engines poured showers of stones, beams, and darts, upon the battlements, — while from large moveable towers or belfries, the cross-bow men and archers sent flights of arrows within the walls. Still the brave De Mannjs untired in spirit and unexhaust- ed in resources, held out, till the assailants, despairing of conquest by any other means, thought of converting the assault into a blockade ; but the battle of Crecy changed the face of affairs, and the siege of Auguillon was suddenly raised bj' the duke, who set off to support his father. When the duke was fairly gone, Manny, loathing to be shut up in inactivity whilst his brethren in arms were gaining such splendid lau- rels elsewhere, sent for a ' great knight,' whom he had captured, and demanded to know what sum he was willing to pay for his ransom. " Three thousand crowns," replied his prisoner. " I know you are nearly related to the duke of Normandy," answered Manny, "that you are much esteemed by him, and one of his counsellors. I will set you free upon your honour provided you will instantly go to the duke and obtain a passport for myself and twenty others, that we may ride through France to Calais, paying courteously for whatever we may require. If you obtain this, I will hold you free from your ransom, and also be much indebted to you ; but if you fail, you will return within a month to this fortress as your prison." The knight accepted the proposal and obtained the wished-for passport ; and such was the high faith and courtesy of those days, that under its protection, Maimy, with his twenty companions, set out to travel the whole breadth of France, and were well received and hospitably treated wherever they came. At Orleans, however, Sir Walter was arrested by order of King Philip and conducted to Paris, where he was cast into prison ; but the duke of Normandy hastened to remonstrate against such a breach of knightly faith, and declared, that unless Sir Walter was instantly li- berated, he would never again wield sword or lance in defence of the French crown. The king yielded to his son's representation, and Maniy »vas not oidy set at liberty, but received various costly je\M'ls and other gifls from Philip, which he accepted on the condition that he should be permitted to return them if his royal master disapproved of his retain- ing them. The conclusion of the story we give in Froissart's own words: — " He arrived at Calais," says the chronicler, "where he was well-received by the king of England, who, being informed by Sir Peuiod.T sir WALTER MANNY. 341 Walter of his prosoiits he had from the king of France, said, ' Sir Waltei, you liave hitherto niost h)yally served us, and we iiope you v'ill continue to do so : send back to King Pliiiij) his pn-sents, for you liave no right to keep them. We have enough, thank God, for you and for ourselves, and are fully disj)osed to do you all the good in our power for the services you have rendered us.' Thereuj)on, Sir Walter took out all tiu' jewels, and giving them to his cousin, the lord of Man- Koe, said : — ' Ride into France to King Philip, and recommend me t(» him, and tell him that I thank him many times for the line jewels which he jirosented nic with, but that it is not agreeable to the will and pleasure of my lord, the king of England, that I retain them.' So the knight did as he was directed," continues Froissart ; '' but the king of France would not take back the jewels, but gave them to the lord of Mansoe, who thanked the king for them, and had no inclination to refuse them." During the prevalence of the plague in England, and while London was threatened by that dreadful visitant, Sir Walter exerted himself with great humanity to soothe the sufferings of the people. " It j)leased God," says Henrie, " in this dismal time to stir up the heart of this noble knight to have respect to the danger that might fall in the time of this pestilence, then begun in England, if the churches and church- yards in London might not suffice to bury the multitude. Wherefore, he purchased a piece of ground near St John's street, called Spittle- croft, without the bars in West Smithfield, of the master and brethren of St Bartholomew Spittle, containing thirteen acres and a rood, and caused the same to be enclosed and corisecrated by Ralph Stratford, bishop of London, at his own pr-oper costs and charges. Li which j)lace, in the year following — Stow reports — were buried mor-e than .50,000 persons, as is affirmed by the king's charter, and by an inscrip- tion which he read upon a stone cross sometime standing in the Char- ter-house yard." In 1360, Sir Walter acconrpanied the army which Edward led to the gates of Paris, and when it was proposed to withdraw without hav- ing nreasured lances with any part of the garrison, deeming such a thing a disgrace to English chivalry, he requested and obtained per- mission to make an incur'sion as far as the barrier ; and he effected his purpose after a long and furious encounter with the Parisian knights. Nine years after this, Sir Walter closed his military services with con- ducting a destructive inroad from Calais into the heart of France. He then retired to his home irr Lorrdon, wlrei'e he employed the remaining years of his life in calmly preparing for his last change. He died in 1372, and was buried with great pomp in the cloister of a Carthusian corrvent founded by himself; the king himself, and a long train of rro- bility honoured his furreral with their attendance. He left behind him one only child, a daughter, named Anne, who marrying the earl of Peru broke, transferred to that noble house all the possessions of her family both in England and Hainault. 342 POLITICAL SERIES. [TnrRh BORN A. D. 1365. — DIED A. D. 1399. It was the great calamity of tliis wortliless ruler, that he became, at the mere age of childhood, to so great an extent his own master. He was not more than eleven when he made, as king of England, his entry into London, amid all the extravagance of splendour and pageantry which characterized the public exhibitions of that age. There were mock, castles and turrets, and wine-fountains, and angels offering crowns of gold, and bright maidens scattering golden showers, with all the mirth and madness of popular festivals. Young as he was, it may easily be conceived that so brilliant a display, contrasting so vividly with the sad seclusion of his widowed mother's residence at Sheen, might first kindle within him that taste for show and revelry M'hich dis- graced his riper years, and, by oppressing his people with taxation, hastened his destruction. Now, however, his popularity was unbound- ed. His father, the Black Prince, had supported the cause of good government to the last, and the son, attractive in person and engaging in manner, seemed destined to retrieve the errors which had accompa- nied the decrepitude of the grandfather. In the following year, his coronation renewed, with added splendour, the i)opular rejoicings ; but the first meeting of parliament was ominous of a troubled reign ; and it is exceedingly difficult, amid confiicting authorities and confused state- ments, to determine the balance of delinquency between faction and misrule. The king's uncles and the king's favourites were at fierce va- riance, and, while to some of them the quarrel was fatal, none of them came out of the contest unscathed. The middle classes seem to have looked on with an observant eye, and with a shrewd estimate of Eng- land's real interests. The Commons' house objected to the expense of the o-overnment and the court, — to the system of favouritism, — to the unprofitable cost of the continental fortresses, — and in general, to tlie entire system of national policy. To these just remonstrances, the only reply seems to have been evasive promises of amendment, accom- panied by urgent demands for heavy subsidies. Among other sugges- tions as to the most expedient mode of raising the supplies, a poll-tax was recommended by the lords ; and the commons, in evil hour, con- sented to the imposition. It was rigorously levied; and the severe exaction, added to the gross misconduct of the collectors, raised the people to almost universal insurrection, and they assembled from the metropolitan counties, on Blackheath, to the amount of not fewer than one hundred thousand men. They gained partial possession of Lon- don, surprised the tower, and put to death the archbishop of Canter- bury, Sir Robert Hales the ' treasurer,' Legge, one of the farmers of the tax, and several others. In this crisis, Richard — who seems to have been personally popular with the insurgents — behaved with uncommon spirit; notwithstanding the advice of those who dissuaded him from conceding- to a set of ' shoeless ribalds,' he boldly presented himself to the furious mob, first at Mile End, and a second time in Smithfield. This last int(!rview was decisive. Wat Tyler, who appears to have Period.] RICHARD D. 34:i menaced the sovereign, was struck down by Walworth, mayor of Lon- don ; and Riclianl, with sinj^ular ])r()nii)titii(K; and address, persuaded the populace to follow him to the fields near Islington, where they ha^itily dispersed at the appearance of an armed force. The govern- ment, relieved from its apprehensions, revoked the anuiesty whicii had been proclaimed, and sent a special commission into the country, with Tresilian at its head, and that worthy ])rototype of Jeiferies is said to have saved himself much trouble by taking accusation as synonymous with guilt. The nation, in fact, seems to have been at this time in a state of strange commotion; and it is easy to perceive from tiie nature of the doctrines said to have been enforced by some of the public teachers of the day, that the lower orders were roused to a fierce re- sentment of the encroachments and oppressions of their superiors When Adam delved and Eve span, Who then was the gentleman ? was the pithy text of one of their favourite preachers ; and it affords Butticient indication of the spirit engendered by the circumstances of the time. The wars of Edward, the necessities of the government, and the factions of a weak minority, had taught the jieople the tremendous lesson of their united strength, though they had not yet learned to systematise their combination. The king's uncles, the majority of them at least, seem to have been ambitious ; the motives of the duke of Lancaster are especially questionable, and had he been more success- ful in war, or more consistent in conduct, he might have effected the highest designs. The strong feeling and bold character of the times are manifest in the works and history of Wickliffe. That ecclesiastical reformer was the precursor of Luther ; his intrepid assailance of hier- archical abuses, and his powerful exhibition of evangelical truth, entitle him to the fame both of a confessor and a discoverer. But if, in the early deeds of Richard, there was somewhat of pro- mise, it was not sustained by his after-actions. He attached himself to favourites, and the old historians describe circumstances of indecency that give reason to doubt the purity of his regard. He was passionate to folly, and betrayed a large measure of that vindictive disposition which seems to have been hereditary in his family. His domestic ex- penditure was a mad exhibition of ultra-extravagance ; and his personal vanity was gratified at a reckless cost. He set the Commons at de- fiance — " he would not displace the meanest scullion in his kitchen, for their pleasure." At length this reached the point beyond which en- durance was cowardice, and he was compelled to submit for a season ; but with the fixed purpose of re-asserting and avenging at a more con- venient time his violated dignity. His chief favourite, who had by an act of insulting profligacy, excited the indignation of the duke of Glou- cester, one of tii(i king's uncles, inflamed the resentment of the monarch, and the duke's life was endangered. The king summoned his militia, and the barons armed their retainers, and the people sided with the nobles. Richard and his councillors slirunk from the unequal contest ; he was compelled to dismiss his obnoxious minions, and for a moment stood in peril of deposition. The struggle between despotism and in- subordination did not, however, go this length, and the king was again placed under tutelage ; but the duke of Gloucester abused his triumph by acts of unrelenting cruelty: the parliament, Avhich seconded his de- signs, obtained from some the distinctive epithet ' merciless,' though others exalted it by the doubtful appellation ' wonderful.' Richard's cousin, Henry of Lancaster, earl of Derby, son of John of Gaunt, and nephew of the duke of Gloucester, although one of the insurgent lords, and mainly concerned in defeating the king's array, opposed these sanguinary proceedings. In 1389, however, Richard, by a bold and decisive step, re-assumed hig authority, and reigned for some years in comparative tranquillity. But his vindictive spirit had never forgiven the injuries of former years, and in 1397, under forms which were a mere mockery of judgment, he procured the impeachment and condemnation of the more obnoxious of his opponents, and among these the earl of Arundel was beheadeo, and the duke of Gloucester secretly nmrdered. The atrocity of this act was enhanced by the treachery which prepared the way for its exe- cution. The king himself, with coward craft, decoyed his uncle, under fair pretences, from his house at Fleshy, and drew him into an ambus- cade. But the very steps which were designed for the advancement of his authority became the precursors of his fall. His impolitic barbarity roused the general indignation, and a feeling of insecurity agitated the minds of some of his most powerful nobles. A conversation — of which the particulars are on record, but the true character of which it is not now possible to ascertain — between Henry, earl of Derby, lately made duke of Hereford, and Mowbray, duke of Norfolk, led to consequences which deprived Richai-d of his crown. Both those powerful noble- men were banished, but Hereford was too popular to be offended with impunity : his partisans were active in his cause, and during the king's absence in Ireland the duke returned from France, and a formidable army soon collected round his standard. The intelligence was late in reaching Richard, and after receiving it he lingered in Ireland till his cause was lost. He landed at last in Wales, and took refuge in the strong castle of Conway. From this asylum he was drawn by the per- suasions of the earl of Northumberland, and brought into the presence of Henry, who spoke him fair, but transferred him to safe custody. A few days brought these transactions to a termination, Richard signed his resignation, and Henry of Bolingbroke assumed the state and title of King of England. The instrument of deposition bears date Sep- tember 29, 1399.1 DIED A. D. \oo7. In the first parliament held after Richard's Scottish campaign, Thomas of Woodstock, earl of Buckingham, was rewarded by his nepliew with the dukerlom of Gloucester, but the gift was too small for the inordinate ambition of the man. The absence of his elder brother, the duke of Lancaster, in Portugal, afforded him a fiivcmrable oppor- ' RoL Pari. iii. 4i(i. Period.] THOMAS, DUKE OF GLOUCESTER. 345 timity for grasping at the chief ascendancy in the councils of the young prince. The earls of Warwicic, Arundel, Nottiiigliain, and Derby, attached themselves to (iloucester's i)arty, and tlie first ol)jret which the i?ew faction aimed at was the establisinnent of a j)ermaneiit coun- cil, similar to that which for a time overawed John, Henry III., and Edward II. Richard at first resisted these attempts with becoming sj)irit, and threatened to dissolve the parliament which entertained Gloucester's proposals, but was at last compelled to yield a reluctant assent to the establishment of a commission with power to inquire into the conduct of the ofticers in his household and courts of law, and generally to correct abuses, wherever existing in any dej)artment of the government, by such remedies as might appear to tluMu ' good and profitable.'' The duke was of tlie number, and of course headed the commission. His Hrst victim was the chancellor De La Pole, earl of Suffolk, one of Richard's minions, who was accused of having obtained from the king grants beyond his deserts, of having enriched himself by defrauding the crown, " as for paying," says Speed, " to the king's coffers but twentie marks yearly for a fee farm, whereof himself re- ceived threescore and ten," and of having put the great seal to illegal charters and pardons. Against these charges De La Pole was ably defended by his brother-in-law. Sir Richard Seroo]), but his judges pronounced some of the charges proved, and the chancellor was pu- nished by fine and imprisonment. Irritated by these and other pro- ceedings of his uncle, Richard appealed to arms, but the confederates had foreseen and were prepared for this issue. At the head of 40,000 men, the duke of Gloucester marched upon London, and in the audi- ence which Richard found himself comjielled to grant, boldly appealed — according to the phrase of the time — the king's chief favourites, namely, De Vere, duke of Ireland, De La Pole, the archbishop of York, the chief justice Tresilian, and Sir Nicholas Bramber. Suf- folk fled to the continent; the duke of Ireland into Wales; the prelate obtained shelter and concealment in the north. De Vere raised the royal standard in Ciieshire, and the king secretly sanctioned the mea- sure, while Gloucester eagerly availed himself of this circumstance to inquire of the learned in the law whether there were not circumstances which might release a vassal from the fealty and homage which he had sworn to his sovereign, and in a meeting at Huntingdon agreed with the earls of Arundel and Warwick, and the lord Thomas Mortimer, " to depose Richard, and take the crown under his own custody." Whatever may have been Gloucester's ultimate intention, it was de- feated by the well-judged opposition of the earls of Derby and Not- tingham. But disappointed in his main object, the series of impeach- ments, trials, and executions, which followed the defeat and dis])ersion of the king's party, amply gratified Gloucester's revenge, who seemed determined to annihilate every friend that the evil fortunes of his nephew had left him in his adversity. Among these there was none whom greater efforts were made to save, and who was more worthy of them, than Sir Simon Burley, who had been Richard's guardian by the appointment of his gallant father, and whom the young king and his queen regarded with filial affection. Richard earneitly solicited ' Uol. Tail. iii. 375. 1. 2 X S46 POLITICAL SERIES. [Third liis uncle to spare liim; and the queen, on her knees, seconded the en- treaties of her husband ; but nothing couki move the ' flinty-hearted Gloucester,' and in a few weeks this ' gentle knight,' as Froissart calls hira, was led forth to execution, without the previous formality of ob- taining the king's assent having been complied with. It was at a general council held after Easter, 1389, that Richard, by a bold and decisive step, suddenly emancipated himself from the thraldom in which Gloucester had long held him. During the delibe- rations of this council, the king suddenly required the duke of Glou- cester to tell him his age. " Your highness," returned the duke, " is in your twenty-second year." " Then," said Richard, " I am old enough to manage my own affairs. It is not fitting that I should re- main longer under the control of tutors than any ward in my domin- ions. I thank ye, my lords, for your past services, but shall not require them any longer." The council was immediately dismissed ; Glouces- ter, finding no one prepared to resist so unexpected a blow, departed from court in sullen discontent, and although Richard seemed not unwilling to conciliate his uncle, the latter disdained to cultivate the friendship of his nephew, and made himself the soul of every faction that opposed the king's wishes. Once, indeed, he affected a wish to retire from the kingdom and join the Christians in their crusade against the idolaters of Prussia, but he so easily allowed himself to be turned aside from the design, that it was pretty evident he never seri- ously contemplated it. Avarice at this period was one of the besetting passions of the great, and Gloucester shared in this vice too. He was, says Froissart, " cunning and malicious, and continually soliciting fa- vours of King Richard, and pleading poverty though he abounded in wealth ; for he was constable of England, duke of Gloucester, earl of Buckingham, Essex, and Northampton, and enjoyed, besides, pensions from the king's exchequer to the amount of 4,000 rubles a-year. And he would not exert himself in any way," adds the worthy chroni- cler, " if he were not well paid." This passion proved a fertile source of trouble both to Gloucester himself and his nephew. The marriage of Henry of Lancaster to the younger sister and co-heiress of Glou- cester's duchess, whose father, the earl of Stafford, was one of the richest noblemen in England, was a sad blow to Gloucester's avari- cious hopes. " The duke," observes Froissart, " had no inclina- tion to laugh when he heard of the projected match, for it would now be necessary to divide an inheritance which he considered wholly as his own. When he learned that both his brothers had been concerned in this matter, he became melancholy, and never afterwards loved the duke of Lancaster as he had hitherto done." Richard, as we have seen, diil much to gratify his uncle's propensity, but failed to quench his thirst for riches. He purchased his consent to a matrimonial alliance between the royal families of England and France at a high price, and seemed prepared even for farther saci'ifices to his relative, had not the latter by conduct nothing short of infatua- tion, drawn upon his own head the resentment of his nephew. The style of language in which the duke dared to indulge himself in the presence of his sovereign is well illustrated in the following nan-ative from Grafton. The duke of Bretagne on repaying a loan which he had obtained from the king of England, demanded restitution of the town fKRioD.j THOMAS, DUKE OF GLOUCESTER. 347 and haven of Brest which he had impledgod in security for the rc- naynu'ut. Richard rcsij^iiod tlio town upon t]w. futihncnt of the stipr.lated terms; hut (ih)ucestor hcsitatcsd not to condemn liis nc^phew's conduct in this instance; as wcaic and impolitic, and even char sanctuary of St J(jhn of Beverley. In a few days the uidiaj)py mother died of gri(.'f, and softened, perhaps, by this fatal catastrophe, Richard again issued a pardon to his guilty relative, who was soon afterwards married to the second daughter of the duke of Lancaster. The commission of these atrocities, however, did not eclipse the fiime of this warlike knight, who made himself known and dreaded wherever he had an opportunity of breaking a lance or wielding a bat- tle-axe, whether in tournament or mortal combat. While in Spain with his father-in-law, a herald arrived at his (juarters with a letter from Sir Reginald de Roye, a gallant French knight in the service of the king of Castile, in M'hieh he entreated Sir John, " for the love of his mistress, that he would deliver him from his vow by tilting with him three courses with the lance, three attacks with the sword, three with the battle-axe, and three with the dagger. The challenger at tiie same time offered his antagonist the choice of the place of combat. When Sir John Holand," continues Froissart, "had perused this letter, he smiled, and looking at the herald, said, ' Friend, tliou art welcome, lor thou hast brought me what pleases me much, and I accept the chal- lenge. Thou wilt remain in my lodging with my people, and in the course of to-morrow thou shalt have my answer whether the tilts are to be in Gallieia or Castile.' The herald replied, ' God grant it!' Sir John went to the duke of Lancaster and showed the letter the herald had brought. ' Well,' said the duke, ' and have you accepted it ?' ' Yes, by my ftiith, have II And why not? I love nothing better than fighting, and the knight entreats nie to indulge him; consider, there- fore, where you would choose it should take place.' " The combat took place at Entenca, and Sir John gained great applause by his gallantry in the jousts. On many other occasions Sir John distinguished him- self as a right valiant and skilful knight, and gained the meed of gal- lantry from all who witnessed his deeds ; his foul murders appear to have little affected his reputation amongst the gentle lords and ladies of that chivalrous age. With the fail of Richard the hopes of the Ro- lands fell also, and they eagerly entered into Salisbury's conspiracy for seizing the person of King Henry at Windsor castle. On the failure of that bold scheme, the earl of Huntingdon fled to the coast of Essex, where he fell into the hands of the late duke of Gloucester's vassals, who instantly revenged their master's death — in which they with justice, perhaps, regarded him as having been an active instruuuMit — by be- heading him with an axe. Slo{)n, a^avl of ^alistjur]). DltO A. D. HOO. One of the leaders in the first and most formidable conspiracy which was formed against Henry, after he had gained the summit of his ambition, was John de Montacutc, earl of Salisbury, one of tlie most 550 POLITICAL SERIES. IThiri, accomplished noblemen of the age. In Henry's first parliament, Thomas, Lord Morley, had charged Salisbury in very coarse terms, with the crime of treason to both the late and the present king, and especially with having instigated Richard to some of his most unpopular measures ; Salisbury indignantly repelled the accusation, but narrowly escaped a traitor's doom, with the loss only of those honours with which his services had been rewarded in the preceding reign. Lingard remarks it as a singular circumstance, that although the earl was called upon for his defence, in common with the other lords who had advised and framed the appeal of treason against the duke of Gloucester, yet he was unnoticed in the judgment of the lords : ' tiiis may have resulted from Henry's strong personal dislike to Salisbury, who had early rendered himself peculiarly offensive to him, by his undertaking the mission which Richard despatched to Charles VI., with the view of breaking off the match betwixt Henry and the daughter of the duke of Berri. It was he, too, who had headed the levies which opposed .'j feeble resistance to Henry's march to the throne ; and he continued to exhibit an attachment to his deposed master, more grateful than prudent, even after Henry had fairly seated himself on the throne. On the imprisonment of Richard, the lords who had appealed Gloucester of treason, entered into a conspiracy for his restoration ; but the plot was revealed by the earl of Rutland, to whom they had incautiously com- municated their secret, and the conspirators found themselves compelled hastily to raise the standard of rebellion. Having been joined by Lord Lumley, the earls of Kent and Salisburj- imprudently took up their quarters in the town of Cirencester, apart from their troops, whom they posted in the adjacent fields. The inhabitants of that town were well affected to Henry, and suddenly invested the quarters of the nobles in the night with a large force. The earls defended themselves for the space of three hours ; but were at last obliged to surrender, and con- ducted as prisoners to the abbey. On the following evening a fire tDok place in the city, and the populac::;, supposing that it was designed to draw oft" their attention from their prisoners, and attempt their rescue, rushed in a body to the place of their confinement, dragged them forth into the street, and instantly beheaded them. Thus fell the earl of Salisbury, Richard's favourite minister, one of the most learned and accomplished nobles of his age, a patron of literature and himself a poet. His poems have unfortunately perished ; but, from the testimony of Christina of Pisa, a lady celebrated in the annals of French literature, they appear to have been worthy of his rank and accomplishments She used to call the earl, " Gracieux chevalier, aiment dictier, et lui- meme gracieux dicteur." Walsingham, narrating the circumstances of his death, says, " He who throughout his life had been a favourer of Lollards, a despiser of images, a contemner of the canons, and a derider of sacraments, ended his days, as is reported, without the sacrament of confession."^ The earl perhaps enjoyed something more consoling than the sacraments of tiie church in his last moments. He had always been a steady supporter of the reformed doctrines, had caused the idols and symbols of superstitious worship to be removed from his private chapel, and had never shrunk fron» the most open and public declaration ol his religious sentiments. •Vol. 111. p. 277. • P. 363. Pkriod.] sm WILLIAM WALWORTH. 351 Vl.OR. VIRC. A. I). I.'iHO. The name of Sir William Walworth, to whose bold heart and ready hand Ri(;hard II. probably owed not his crown oidy but his life, first appears upon r(>cord as one of the merchants of London whom the eonnnons appointi'd treasurers to recciive the moni(!s arising; from tin; new aid granted by Richard's first parliament. In the year of W'at Tyler's rebellion, he held the oHice of mayor of tlie city, and on the approach of the arch-rebel to Smithfield, at the head of twenty thou- sand men, he accompanied the young prince while endeavouring to make terms in person with the insurgents. The king's party consisted of only sixty persons, and the Kentish leader, on perceiving their approach, made a sign to his followers to halt, and boldly rode up to the king whom he addressed with his usual confidence. The extravagance of the rebel's demands, prompted by the consciousness of power, and the conciliatory proposals made to him, occasioned some hesitation ; and while Richard held a brief consultation with his friends as to what was best to be done in existing circumstances, the Tyler affected to play rt'ith his dagger, tossing it from hand to hand, and at last laid his iiand on the bridle of the king's horse.' The insult, with whatever view it \\as offered, roused the indignation of the loyal and stout-hearted may- or, who, with a rashness infinitely more dangerous to his sovereign tlian the Tyler's presumption, sprung forward, and plunged his short sword into the rebel's throat, who, on receiving the wound, spurred his horse, and rode about a dozen yards before he fell to the ground, when he was instantly despatclied by Robert Standish one of the king's esquires. The insurgents, who witnessed the transaction, drew their bows, and were about to pour a shower of arrows upon the king's party, when Richard rescued himself and his attendants from their immini nt peril, by an act of uncommon bravery and presence of mind. Gallop- ing up to the archers, he exclaimed, " What are ye doing, my lieges ? Tyler was a traitor I follow me, I will be your leader." The discon- certed host moved on mechanically at the bidding of their new chief, until they reached the fields at Islington, where Walworth again ap- peared for the protection of his sovereign, but at the head of an etti- cient force of one thousand men-at-arms. For these good services, Richard knighted the redoubtable mayor, and bestowed upon him a pension of one hundred pounds per annum. FLOR. CIRC A. D. 1380. Contemporary with Sir William Walworth was John Philpot, alderman and citizen of London, whose heroic exploits deserve more ample and frequent commemoration in the pages of our historians tiiaa ' Kuyht, 2637.— Fioiss. Ivii— Ixii. they have yet obtained. In the early part of Richard's reign, the French were allowed to land on various parts of the English coast, and commit great devastations on the unprotected towns and villages- Encouraged by his knowledge of the defenceless state of the place, one Mercer, a Scottish adventurer, entered the port of Scarborougli, and carried away the merchant vessels that lay there, and soon made Iiimself so formidable on the English coast, that the king and council were petitioned to adopt instant measures for his capture. But the o-overnment regarded the application with indifference, and Mercer was allowed to continue his ravages with impunity, until Philpot undertook to do at his own expense and risk what the ministry would not do in the public service. He fitted out some ships, and placing on board of them an armament of one thousand men, boldly sailed in quest of the darin"- pirate, whom he soon encountered, and, after a smart action, captured with his whole fleet, consisting of the ships which he had taken at Scarborough, and fifteen Spanish vessels laden with spoil. He then sailed triumphantly to London with his prizes, and received an enthu- siastic welcome from his brother-citizens and the populace. But the council of regency beheld his success and his reception with a jealous eye; and the earl of Stafford even went so far as to charge this loyal and gallant subject of the crown with the commission of an illegal act, in presuming to levy forces, and pursue war witliin the king's domin- ions without the sovereign's permission. But Philpot repelled the un- worthy accusation with so much spirit and firnmess, that the prosecu- tion was abandoned, and he received an honourable acquittal. " Few memorials," says the fair historian of the wars of York and Lancaster, " remain to perpetuate the remembrance of Philpot's glorious action. A narrow lane in the city of London which bears his name, we are told by Stow, has derived its appellation from the residence of this distin- guislied ornament of the aldermanic body ; but the tongue of fame has not blazoned its origin, and it is daily pronounced without any remi- niscence of the hero who so justly deserves the admiration and esteem of all posterity." 0iv 2aicl)arl3f Mj)ittiu(jton. FLOR. CIRC. A. U. 1390. Our juvenile readers at least would never forgive us were we to pass over in silence so eminent a name as that of Sir Richard Whittington, * thrice lord-mayor of London,' while enumerating those of a Walwortli and a Philpot. That Sir Richard Whittington was really lord-mayor of London for three successive periods, is matter of record, but we are not so satisfactorily informed of the circumstances of his rise and pro- gress to the civic chair, and least of all do we possess any credible monuments from which we can illustrate the life and adventures of his far-famed cat. * Sir Richard, at his death, founded a college, on which he bestowed his own name, and from the ordinances of this foundation we learn that he was the son of Sir William Whittington, knight. A descent such as this strips our lord-maj'Dr's history of much of its ro- mantic character, and compels us, unwillingly, to cast discredit upon Period.] HENRY IV. 153 I ' the pretty and useful fable of the cat,' for it can hardly be supposed that a knight's son coiilil be indebted to so humble a coadjutor for hi-s first advancement in tiie vvorhl. It is ])rohabl(! tliat family inthience, or tiie venality of Riehard's eourt, laid the foundations of Wliittington's wealth and honours. In the cliarter of Wliittington eollege, the mem- bers are directed to remember in their prayers for ever, ' Richard II. 'ind Thomas of Woodstock, duke of Gloucester, special lords and pro- moters of the said Uieliard Whittington.' This circumstance, taken in connexion with some others to be mentioned presently, has suggested to Miss Roberts the following ingenious piece of conjectural biography: — " The family of Wliittington was settled in the north of England, that is, in the vicinity of the pit-coal counties and sea-ports. At the date when we may suppose Whittington a boy, the burning of pit-coal in London was esteemed so great a nuisance, that those who ventured to consume the prohibited fuel were rendered punishable under the statute with the penalty of death ; and that the actual enforcement of this statute took place, is evinced by the record of the execution of in- dividuals for tiiis offence, still preserved among the archives of the tower of London. But notwithstanding the severity of such a law, and the proof that at one period at least, all its severity was rigorously executed, we come down as low as the year 1419, before which time Whittington had served all his three several mayoralties, without find- ing that a repeal of the statute had taken place. The importation of pit- coal formed a considerable branch of the commerce of the Thames. ' As early,' says the author of the history of Newcastle, ' as 1421, it appears that it was a trade of great importance, and that a duty of two- pence per chaldron had been imposed upon it for some time.' Now, to account for this professed and public sanction of a trade which was still I)rohibited by law, it is only needful to advert to that dispensory power whicii the English crown so notoriously assumed in this and other periods of its early history, and by means of which the operation of the law was arbitrarily suspended, abrogated, or qualified." Miss Ro- berts proceeds to argue ingeniously enough, that such especial disj)en- sation may have been granted to Sir Richard by ' his special lords and promoters,' and that a monopoly of the London coal trade with New- castle was the real source of his splendid civic fortunes.' As to the story of the cat, it seems sufficiently safe to the fair historian — whose guidance we have adopted in this article — to follow a distinguished an- tiquary, in the belief that the story of ' W^hittington and his Cat' is no more than a London version of a Persian story mentioned by Sir William Ousely. BORN A. D. 1367. DIED A- D. 141.3. The conqueror of Richard ascended the throne amid the accla- mations of the people, in the first ardours of a popularity too violent to be otherwise than dangerous. Tlie weak and reckless character of ' Memoirs of York aiifl 1 .anrasler, vol. i. p. 160. •J y ■» 354 POLITICAL SEPvIES. [TinKn the late king had excited an indignation T'tle less than universal, and the able and enterprizing Bolingbroke availed himself to the utmost ol the advantages afforded him by the misgovernment of his predecessor. His title to the crown was indirect, or rather it was entirely superseded by the existence of a superior claim in the person of Mortimer, earl of March, lineally descended from Lionel, the elder brother of Hen- ry's father. In his address to parliament, challenging the crown, after the public declaration of Richard's forfeiture, he blended with his artfully expressed assertion of hereditary succession, an obscure but significant reference to the right of conquest. At his coronation, too, he seems to have intended an allusion to this double claim, by ' the sword of Lancaster,' which was borne naked on his left hand by the earl of Northumberland, and by the holy oil, preserved from the time of Becket, and given — so ran the legend — to that prelate by the Virgin Mary. The meeting of the new parliament afforded no favourable omen ; the debate among the peers was stormy ; accusations fiercely made, and as fiercely recriminated ; the lie given and thrown back ; no fewer than forty gauntlets, gages of personal defiance, flung down and taken up. Such were the lordly courtesies which distinguished this memorable sitting. Conspiracies, as might have been anticipated, were soon in agitation, and a formidable attempt was made to surprise Henry at "the castle of Windsor. Failing in this coup-de-main, the noblwnen, who were concerned in the plot, endeavoured to rouse the people of the kingdom to arm for the liberation of Richard ; but the popular feeling was, as yet, on the usurper's side, and the insurgents were seized by the municipal authorities, and executed by summary process.' This ill-advised and disastrous scheme sealed the fate of the abdicated monarch, and, in the month of January, 1400, his death was announced as having taken place in the castle of Pontefract. Con- siderable doubt exists concerning the manner of ' his taking off".' It was reported that from the hour in which he was apprized of the exe- cution of his two brothers, who had taken part in the insurrection, he refused all food. This rumour, however, gained small credence, and it was more commonly believed that the abstinence was not voluntary, but forced. Another account gives the details of a more violent mur- der, and ascribes the death of Richard, after a strenuous defence, to the hand of Sir Piers d'Exton; but if there be no error in the state- ment of facts connected with the opening of his tomb some years back, (his cannot be true, as the skull, where the disabling blow is said to have been struck, was found without sign of injury.^ In the same year, Henry invaded Scotland, but the Scotch army retired before his armament, and he failed to take the castle of Edin- burgh. If, however, he obtained no military honours on this occasion, he gained the noble fame, rare m those days, of humanity and main- tenance of discipline in war : no ravages, no violations, no fires, nor massacres, marked the line of his march, and protection was uniformly afforded to the quiet and submissive. In the following seasons, how- ever, the old system of foray was resumed by the commanders on either side, until, in September, 1402, the battle of Homildon-hill, louglit by the Scots, under Douglas, against the English, under tbc ' Hot. Pari. iv. 18. " Archseol. vol. vi. I'KKioi..] HENRY rv. S56 Percies and the earl of March, gave a decided superiority to the latter. In tiuit singular fight, the inen-;it-anns, on the side of tiie Southrons, never charged ; it was gained by the arciiers alone. Ordered by Percy to descend into the low ground between two hills, occupied by tiie hos- tile divisions, their discharge was so galling as to provoke Douglas and his chivalry to a forwanl niovenient, before which they retired, occa- eionally facing about, and checking the Scottish horse l)y a close and destructive stream of arrows.^ Douglas and tlie bravest of his com- panions fell in the charge, covered with wounds ; and the loss in slain, and in prisoners of rank, was exceedingly heavy. But these were tame and uninteresting occurrences compared with the events which, in 1403, placed Henry in jeojjardy of his throne. In the struggle with Richard, tiie earl of Northumberland and his son, the gallant Hotspur, had given themselves implicitly to the Lancasterian cause, and it is not imi)robable that their accession may have been de- cisive of its success. The king had not been ungrateful : he appears to have lavished honours and possessions on the Percies, and to have invariably treated them with an honourable confidence. Their mani- festo, or ' Defiance,' though evidently a laboured document, has less the air of deeply felt grievance, than of previously formed determina- tion to quarrel, and matter of justification subsequently sought.* It is not unlikely that the success of Henry had kindled the ambition of these noblemen, and that the brilliant victory of Homildon-hill gave edge and resolution to their nialcontency. Be this, however, as it may, their measures were skilfully planned ; their strategy was prudent and bold ; and their tactics, in the battle which ensued, long held victory in sus- pense. The earl ot Northumberland formed an alliance with the Scots and with the Welsh, who were then, under Owen Glendower, strug- gling for independence. Joined by Douglas and his retainers, Hotspur, at the head of his border veterans, moved, by rapid marches, upon Wales, and on the road formed a junction with his uncle, the earl of Worcester, who had raised a strong division of archers in Cheshire. The crisis was appalling, but Henry's genius and courage were equal to the emergency. With the prince of Wales he hastened towards the north ; but on ascertaining the movements of the insurgents, he changed the direction of his columns, and threw himself athwart Per- cy's line of march at Shrewsbury, which he entered just in time to prevent the entrance of the enemies' advanced guard. Tlie numbers on either side were nearly equal, — the troops of excellent quality, — the commanders of high reputation, — and the stake at once the greatest and the last. The king offered terms of peace ; they were refused, and the battle began. The Northumbrians held a strong position, and at the first assault the royal forces recoiled. Eager to take advantage of this success, Percy and Douglas both charged at the same moment on Henry's personal guard. The immediate eli'ect was terrific. The royal standard-bearer was killed, with several knights around the king, who is said to have been himself unhorsed by Douglas. Bravely, however, did the monarch fight, and bravely was he seconded by his gallant son ; the first slew, as stated in the records of the time, thirty- six men-at-arms with his own hand ; and the second was wounded ia =■ OtU;rl). 2;j7. — Fonl. xv. 14. * Hariliiig apud * Tlie Huietlitai} ligiii ol' Uio Ciowii.' 356 POLITICAL SERIES. [Third the face. At length Hotspur fell, and his followers gave way. Sub- sequent insurrections of the same party were easily suppressed, and with the fall of the powerful and ambitious family of Percy, the only formidable opponency to the house of Lancaster disappeared. Henry's principal political annoyances were now the Cambrian war, kept up by the active and intrepid Glendower, and the hostility of France, whose generals made frequent inroads on the continental de- pendencies of the English crown, and landed with flying corps in va- rious parts of England and Wales. These insults at length roused the anger of the king, and, in 1412, an English army landed in Nor- mand}'^; but, after some negotiation, retired to Guienne. * But there were other sources of deeper vexation than any that could arise from exterior circumstances, which pressed heavily upon Henry's feel- ings towards the close of his reign. It was not long after his successes against the Northumberland party, that he became afflicted with an eruptive disease, descril)ed as a ' detestable leprosy,' and conflning its visitations to the face. In addition to this troublesome, and probably painful affection, he was subject to epileptic attacks; and these mani- festations of constitutional disorder gave him, to early as in his forty- sixth year, the aspect and infirmities of prematUiv; old age. His mind, however, preserved its elasticity, and he retained to the last his firm grasp of the sceptre, although there are appearances of unsettled pur- pose, and labouring conscience, in the closing scenes of his existence. The final summons found him on his knees before the shrine of St Edward, in Westminster abbey. He was conveyed to the abbot's chamber, and breathed his last, March, 20th, 1413, in the fourteenth year of his reign. The general character of this brave and politic chief may be inferred from the intimations already given ; but there is one prominent feature of his administration — the systematic persecution of every religious opinion, that might offer menace to the usurpations of Rome — which has not yet been noticed, but which demands the severest reprobation, as disgraceful to his memory, and requires examination, on account of its marked deviation from the usual liberality of his government. The princes of the house of Lancaster, mainly, it is probable, through con- sciousness of defect in their title to the crown, affected an unusual regard to popular rights ; and instances might be given, of concession, both verbal and practical, very much at issue with the then fashionable notions concerning the origin and extent of kingly power. Yet, in contravention of this sagacious and successful policy, Henry is found eager and sanguinary in the endeavour to suppress sentiments, of which the circulation had been aided, directly by his father's policy, indirectly by his own. The preaching of the fearless and enlightened Wickliffe had not been in vain ; it had awakened a spirit of inquiry and a temper of opposition, which halters and faggots may partially re- strain, but must fail in the effort to extinguish. It may be admitted that Henry had powerful motives for complaisance toward the hierarchy'. A defective title, and an imperfect hold upon the attachment of the nobles, were in themselves enough to stimulate the restless vigilance of an u:-urper, and to call forth the utmost energies of a determined ujj'I " M(jnst.rclet. Pi;i£ioi..] HENRY IV. 357 uniicrupulous ruler ; nor would it have been less than political insanity, to liavc ncglecti'd any Kiir means of conciliating the priesthood, whose support to the cause of tlu; malcontents might have turned the scale. But there was a safe and honourable nu-diuin : his own convictions were probably in o|)position to the new doctrines, and, politically sj)caking, he could not have been blamed for tlu; fair exercise of his intluence, in behalf of the dominant system; beyond this \w could not go, without deeply offending those to whom it behoved him to be most cautious of giving offence — tlie j)eople of England, of whom the larger and better portion were, if not adverse to Romanism, abhorrent of blood. Unmoved, however, by these considerations, and preferring violence to discretion, he enforced extreme measures, and obtaiiu'd for them the sanction of a parliamentary enactment. The statute dti Hcretico comharendo was passed early in his reign,^ and it was not suffered to remain a dead letter. William Sautre, priest of St Osyth's, London, was the first victim to this detestable abuse of legis- lation.^ It is somewhat difficult to account for the subserviency of parliament in this matter, since the house of commons at least, appears to have been disposed to treat the sacerdocy with very slight ceremon}'. The speaker was instructed, in one instance, to make urgent remon- strances against the immunity from regular taxation enjoyed by the hierarchy ; but the peers supported the ecclesiastics, and the archbishop of Canterbury assumed a high tone on the occasion. " If I live," said that prelate, addressing the speaker, " thou shalt have hot taking away any thing that I have."" The primate, Arundel, was proud and pitiless, and it was probably at his instigation, that measures of such outrageous severity were adopted. It may be farther suggested, in extenuation of conduct which does not admit of direct defence, that Hemy with all his shrewdness and energy, seems never to have suc- ceeded in establishing a government intrinsically strong. His foreign policy appears to have been feeble ami wavering ; and there are indi- cations which may justify the suspicion that his civil administration was, from whatever cause, not always equal to tlie exigences of the time. In his reign, however, the immunities and authority of the commons house of parliament assumed a consistency and independence, which began to give a new character to the government of England. The constitution of the house was essentially improved, by provisions for the freedom of elections, and by an important abridgment of the fre- quently abused power of the sheriff. An unceasing jealousy was manifested towards all attempts to restrain the liberty of debate, and the then necessarily extensive privilege of security from arrest was firmly maintained. The same determination was exhibited in the dispute concerning the registration of parliamentary proceedings, which had been heretofore effected always negligently, and sometimes abusively. Henry resisted their requisition of a fair and equitable process of veri- fication, but they persisted until the concession was made. They were, moreover, sternly vigilant over the fiscal measures of the court ; and their conduct, altogether, illustrates the steady progress that English- men were making, in the knowledge and maintenance of their political rigiits. • Kou i'arl. III. 4(iG. ' lb. " Iloliii.biica. 3-58 POLITICAL SERIES. [Thirb Ctimunir iHortimtr, eFarC of iWarc!). DIED A. D. 14'25. The house of Lancaster, in the person of Henry, had now reached tlie summit of its ambition ; but there existed — as we have alreaily hinted — a formidable competitor, whose claims rested on the principle of hereditary succession. Had this principle been allowed to regulate the high transactions of state, on the deposition of Richard, the crown would have devolved on the posterity of Lionel, duke of Clarence, the second son of Edward HL By the decease of that ])rince without male issue, his rights fell to his daughter, Philippa, who had married Roger Mortimer, earl of March, the male representative of the powerful baion who was attainted and executed for the murder of Edward H. The forfeited earldom had been regained by Roger's son, who, in the 26th of Edward III., obtained a reversal of the judgment against his parent, and thenceforth bore the title of earl of March. His son and successor, Edmund, worthily supported his high rank, by his splendid services in France and Ireland; and, by his marriage with Philippa of Clarence, transmitted the rightful claim to the crown of England to his descend- ants. Roger Mortimer, the fourth in descent from the regicide, suc- ceeded his father in the government of Ireland. He was a knight ol" great personal accomplishments, and celebrated for the magnificence of fns household, and the reckless gaiety of his life. In a combat M'itii the sept of O'Brien, his headlong valour distanced his followers, and, fiehting- in the disj^uise of an Irish hoiseman, he was overpowered b\ numbers, and torn to pieces by his savage enemies, ere his friends could come up to his rescue. The helpless heir, Edmund Mortimer, was at this time only an infant of ten years of age, and was instantly given by Henry of Lancaster in ward to his son, the prince of Wales, v ho placed him in Windsor castle, where, though strictly guarded, he seems to have been treated in a courteous and indulgent manner. It doet> not appear that Edmund inherited either the restlessness and ambition which characterized some of his ancestors, or the martial gallantry which blazed forth in others ; but his existence was often used as an apology, by more ambitious spirits, for their own factious proceed- ings ; and might, but for his own want of enterprize, have seriously incommoded the councils of regency, during the minority of Henry VI. His appointment to the command of Ireland, on the accession of the young king, was a piece of dexterous policy. While it gratified that love of show and magnificence M'hich seemed to be his only master })assion, it removed him from intercourse with those men and measures which might have roused some latent spark of ambition in the breast of one, the heir of so many dangerous pretensions. His death, which took place in the third year of Henry VI., seemed to secure the permanent establishment of the Lancastrian family upon the throne. PEiuon.] OWEN GLENDOWEIl. 359 «?oRN CIRC. A. D. l.Stf). — i>ii:n A. n. 1415. Owen Gi-KNOower,' whose noble resistance of the Englisli arm'? nmid the declining furtunes of his native country h;is obtained for him the appellation of the Wallace of Wales, was born, as is connnonly supposed, in the year 1349. Historians have agreed on the tuinute date of the day of the year — which they all concur in fixing on the iiHth of May — but there exists a wide discrepancy amongst them in the more important article of the year itself which ushered this hero into the world: Lewis Owen says 1349, whilst other annalists determine it to have been 1354. Trefgarn, in Pembrokeshire, was the place of his birth. His father was Gryfliyd Vyelian ; by the mother's side he was lineally descended from Llewellyn, the last prince of Wales. The birth of our hero was not without its portents, ' to mark him extraordinary.' Holin- shed relates that his father's horses were found that night standing in the stables up to their girths in blood, and the traditionary legends of Waic^s abound in equally marvellous stories coneerning so important an event.* The young Owen received a liberal education, according to the estimate of the age. He is represented as having started in life in the profession of a pleader in the inns of Court; but afterwards relincpiishing his profession, he received the appointment of esquire in the household of Richard H., and adhered to that unfortunate prince till his surrender of the crown had released all his followers from their obligations to his person. During the reign of Richard, Owen had been engaged in a dispute about the boundaries of his lordship of Glendowrdy with Reginald, Lord Grey de Ruthyn, an Anglo-Norman, whose seignoiies lay imme- diately adjoining ; and had recovered at law a piece of ground which lay betwixt the two properties. But Reginald, upon the accession o} Henry IV., again resumed possession of the disputed territory, whilst Owen appealed in vain for redress to the first parliament of the new monarch.^ Disappointed in his suit in this quarter, he resolved to enforce his claims at his own hand. In the summer of 1400, he at- tacked the castle of his rival, and laid waste his barony. Here the affair might have terminated, had not the king, taking the cause into his own hands, ordered Lords Talbot and Grey to march against him, and surround him in his own house. Upon their approach, Glendower retired into the inaccessible fastnesses of Snowdon, where he success- fully maintained a guerilla warfare against the English forces. Stimu- lated by a sense of national degradation, and the recollection of the haughty Edward's conduct towards their country, and encouraged, perhaps, by the vague prophecies of Merlin and Acpiila which wan- dering minstrels sung throughout the country, thousands of his coun- trymen flocked to his standard, and, on the 20th of September, Glen- ' III ilie ' Collection of tlie PuMic Act«;,' he is always calletl Glenilounly . ^ * Shakspeare has availed lumstif of these supernal ural omens in Htni) i V. " At ni> nativity The front of heaven was full of fiery shapes, Of burning cressets," &c. ' WaUiiig. I). 361. dower, finding himself already at the head of a powerful and spirited army, proclaimed himself Prince of Wales. TTae defeat of the Flem- ings of Pembroke ami Cardiganshire, who had been surrounded with a greatly superior force on Mynydd Hyddgant, was followed by the cap- ture of Lord Grey, who obtained his sovereign's license to purchase his liberty by acceptance of the terms of ransom proposed by Glen- dower. These were of such a kind as aeutralized the future efforts of his prisoner. Besides payment of 10,000 marks, the proud baron was compelled to accept of the hand of Jane, his rival's daughter, in mar- riage. Henry now published a general amnesty, with no other excep- tions than Owen of Glendowrdy, Rice ap Tudor, and William ap Tudor.* But the Welsh continued to pour into the camp of their coun- tryman from all quarters, and even the Welsh students at Oxford and Cambridge hastened to join the national cause. The revolt had now assumed too serious an aspect for ordinary measures. In the month of October 1401, Henry placed himself at the head of an army and set out in person to chastise the presumptuous rebel ;* but the activity of Owen, aided by an uncommonly severe winter, rendered all his etlorts abortive, and a dishonourable retreat followed. The Percies now re- belled, and the irregular and wild Glen dower joined that formidable coalition, which we have treated of under another head. His next step was to assemble the estates of the principality at Machynlaeth in Montgomeryshire, by whom he was formally crowned sovereign of Wales. Henry was successful in preventing the junction of the Northumbrian and Welsh forces, but Owen maintained with unabated spirit the inde- pendence of his country; and, in 1404, concluded a treaty of alliance with Charles, King of France, in which he styled himself, " Owenius Dei Gratia Princcps Walliaj,"^ &c. The king of England now entrust- ed the recovery of Wales to his gallant son, Henry of Monmouth, whom he created lord-lieutenant of that country, with special powers, for the better execution of his commission." Owen commenced the campaign of 1405 by taking some castles, and defeating the earl of Warwick at Mynydd Cwmdu in Montgomeryshire ; but the young Henry soon after successively defeated Owen himself at Grosmount, and his son at Mynydd-y-Pwli-Melyn. Owen was now compelled to seek an asylum in the most inaccessible spots of Wales. A diversion was made in his favour by a French arma- ment, but its success was only temporary, and Prince Henry gradually got possession of the strongest fortresses of the country. Still he seems to have struggled on with unconquerable spirit though diminished for- tunes. In 1411, we find him specially excepted from the general par- don issued by Henry, as an arch-rebel with wlioni his enemies dared not to negotiate.^ In the ensuing year, David Gam, an apostate Welsh- man, who had been seized in an attempt to assassinate Glendower, though his own brother-in-law, obtained license to purchase his liberty by paynient of a ransom to the unconquered chief. Three months be- fore tlie battle of Agincourt, Henry V. commissioned Sir Gilbert Talbot to treat with Glendower, and the offer was again renewed after that victory had graced the English arms ; but, during the negotiation, * Ryitifir's Feed. viii. ]81. ^ Walsing. 364, « Rjmer's I'ced. viii. 356. ' lb. viii. 291. » it) iiier's FobcI. viii. 711. Period.J Sm ^VnJJAM GASCOIGNE. 361 death overtook this last king of the Britons, who expired on the 20th of September, 1415. His countrymen seem to have forgotten tlic njemory of their intrepid defencUn- sooner than his enemies thcms(dves. In the year 1431, the English commons l)esonglit tiie lords to enforce the forfeiture of Owen Glendowcr's lands, whom they describe a.s an areh-traitor, whose success would have been " to the destruction of all English tongue for evermore."^ ^iv William (^ascoianc* BORN CIUC. A. V. 1 350.. -DIED A. D. l4l,'l Sir William Gascoigne, chief-justice of the king's bench in the reign of Henry IV., was born at Gawthorp, in Yorkshire, about the year 1350. His family was noble, and of Norman extraction. Hav- ing studied law, and acquired considerable reputation as a pleader, he was ai)pointed one of the king's sergeants-at-law in 1398. Upon the accession of Henry IV., he was made judge in the court of common pleas; and, in 14()I, was elevated to the chief-justiceship of the king's bench. In July, 1403, he was joined in the commission with Ralph Neville, earl of Westmoreland, for levying forces in Yorkshire and Northumberland against the insurrection of Henry Percy ; and, on the submission of that nobleman, he was nominated in the commission to treat with the rebels. In all these high trusts, Gascoigne acquitted himself to the satisfaction of his royal master and the kingdom at large. But on the apprehension of Archbishop Scroop, when the king required his chief-justice to pass sentence of death upon him as a traitor, the virtuous and inflexible Gascoigne sternly refused, because the laws which he was appointed to administer gave him no jurisdiction over the life of an ecclesiastic. Henry was highly displeased at the obstinacy, but had sufficient strength of mind to respect the integrity of his minis- ter, and Gascoigne had the honour of knighthood conferred on him the same year. From his general conduct, as related by historians, there is sufficient reason to place Sir William Gascoigne in the first rank of chief-justices, both for integrity and abilities. The many abstracts of his opinions, arguments, and decisions, which occur in our older law-reports, suffi- ciently attest the general opinion which was entertained of his profes- sional merits. One memorable transaction, which still remains upon record, would have sufficed, had others equally strong been wanting, to have stamped his character for ever with the noble feature of judi- cial independence. It happened that one of the associates of the youth- ful, and then dissolute prince of Wales, had been arraigned for felony. The news of his favourite's apprehension no sooner reached the prince's ears, than he hastened to the court, and imperiously demanded that the prisoner should be immediately set at liberty. Gascoigne desired him instantly to withdraw, and leave the law to take its course ; whereupon the prince, breaking through all restraint and decorum, rushed furiously up to the bench, and, as is generally affirmed, struck the chief-justice. ' Uot. Pail. ir. 377. -Hen. VI. 1 2 z * 3G2 POLITICAL SERIES. [Third On this, Sir William coolly ordered his assailant to be taken into cus- tody, and after administering a sharp reproof to him in the hearing of the court, ordered him into confinement in the prison of the king's bench. The young prince had the good sense to submit calmly to the [)unishment which he had so justly merited ; and, when the matter was related to his father, it is recorded to his honour also, that, instead of manifesting anj'^ displeasure towards the chief-justice, he thanked God for having given him ' both a judge who knew how to administer the laws, and a son who respected their authority.' Gascoigne was called to the parliament which met in the first year of Henry V., but died before the expiration of the year, on the 17th of December, 1413. He was twice married, and left a numerous train of descendants by l)0th his wives. BORN A. D. 1388 DIED A. D. 1422. The younger days of this gallant and splendid sovereign were, as is of common knowledge, remarkable for eccentricity and licentiousness ; it is less notorious that the season of wild excess was darkened by acts, or at least by machinations, of far deeper criminality. Shak- speare has made us all familiar with the rough gaieties and unprincely associations amid which Falstaff 's ' mad compound of majesty ' wasted llie rich hours of youth, and cast away the ' golden opinions ' of the wise and good ; but, in his immortal scenes, the redeeming brightness of an ingenuous spirit breaks through the shadows that a restless and in- considerate temper had thrown over the promise of clear intellect and generous feelings. History insinuates, rather than reveals, a tale of less extenuable guilt. It tells, indeed, of that impetuous but noble dis- position, which, when it had violated the sanctuary and insulted the administrator of justice, could so well atone, by yielding dignified obe- dience to the sentence that avenged its questioned supremacy. It tells, beside, of more doubtful transactions; when dark rumours and fearful intimations had reached the ears of the reigning king, of inso- lent speeches betraying unhallowed designs ; and when, clad in fantas- tic attire of silk and gold, and followed by a numerous train, the half- petulant, half-penitent aspirant, fell at his father's feet, and proffered life as the pledge of sincerity.' But this is not all : there are still in existence, documents which impute to the prince a deliberately formed purpose to dethrone the king, and affirm the fact, that in open parlia- ment the latter was required by his son to resign the crown, which disease prevented him from wearing with dignity and efficiency. It is farther stated, that when this insolent and unfilial requisition was at once rejected, the younger Henry withdrew in fierce anger, and forth- with engaged in measures intended ultimately to force from his father's weakened grasp the sceptre which, however gained, had been wielded with signal ability. The death of the king prevented the consumma- ' Stow. .I'i9. Teriod.] henry V. 363 tion of this treason, and gave to the craving heir an innocent and un- disputed possession.* Few sovcrcif^ns have ascended the throne more eminently endowed with mental and personal advantages than was Henry of Monmouth. In prime of manhood, graceful in person and manner, singularly vigo- rous and active, he obtained the favour of the commonalty by his fair ex- terior and courteous deportment. Of distinguished talents, well-culti- vated by education, and called into exercise by early experience both in counsel and action, he commanded the admiration and obedience of those whose rank or whose sagacity gave them influence. When his father was sent into banishment, Henry was a mere boy, and in his twelfth year made his first campaign in tlie Irish expedition of Richard H., who had taken him under his care, and on that occa- sion gave him knighthood with his own hand. When his father landed in England on the enterprise which gave him a kingdom, Henry dis- armed, by his shrewdness and presence of mind, the anger of Richard, which was rising to his danger. The elder Henry seems to have been anxious that his son should be well-instructed in the art of war. He had a command under his father in the Scottish and Welsh campaigns, and in the desperate conflict which, at Shrewsbury, cruslied the rebel- lion of the Percies, the prince distinguished himself alike as an officer and a soldier. When only sixteen, he had assigned to him the arduous task of subjugating Wales, and in all that he undertook he exhibited high courage and skilful conduct. The excesses which, in the words of Elmham, ' clouded as with the black smoke of misdoing,' the bright- ness of his rising, were thrown aside when, at the early age of twenty-five, he assumed the crown. His father's death seemed to have awakened in him the dormant elements of his nobler nature : he lamented his filial errors, — discarded his dissolute companions, — and took to his coun- sels the men who had rebuked and withstood him in the season of his extravagance. He gave freedom to the earl of March, whose lineal claim to the crown had induced the former king to detain him, if not in absolute captivity, at least in strict observance, — he restored the exiled son of ' Harry Percy ' to his rank and possessions, — and when the remains of Richard received, at his command, a royal burial in West- minster abbey, he led, as chief mourner, the funeral procession.^ The first decided trial of Henry's character as statesman and war- rior, is exhibited in the affair of the Lollards. Of those heretics, Dr I>ingard, the advocate of Romanism, gives an unfavourable representa- tion, as the abettors of a wild and injurious theology, and as men quite prepared to engage in active and thorough-going rebellion. This is mere exaggeration. It may be difficult to extract from the chroniclers of the olden time, a clear and unbiassed explanation of facts and circum- stances ; but a fair and temperate investigation would certainly bring out a more exculpatory result. It is probable that the persecuting policj' of the house of Lancaster might produce exasperation, but the * It shtuihl De mentioned, tliat the sole authority for this slutement .ippiai's to lie an unpublished writing, as(-ribed to the coiitempnraiy historian Walsmghain, exiant amoii:< the Sluune MSS., and first cited by Sharon Turner. It is wortliy of observation, thai of the prince's requisiiion, though apparently made with all formality, no trace is to lie found in the rolls of parliament. » Walsing. SS5.— Otterb. 274. 364 POLITICAL SERIES. [Thirt; dasign against the king's person, — its failure through his removal from Elthaui, — and the consequent armed assemblage in St Giles's fields, — are, if not altogether apocryphal, liable to reasonable suspicion, as exces- sively overcharged by party feeling. Henry was a persecutor: he gave up his companion, Sir John Oldcastle, to the tender mercies of an ecclesiastical tribunal ; and he adopted, in its full extent, the system of deference practised by his father towards the hierarchy. He appears, indeed, to have been characterised by a stern and inflexible severity. His hasty order for the massacre of the prisoners at Azincour, may be defended on the ground of necessity; but his insensibility to human suffering is proved by his conduct at the siege of Rouen, when he suffered twelve thousand non-combatants — men, women, and children — to perish between his camp and the walls, rather than depart from his refusal to allow them a passage through his lines. From the very outset of his kingly career, Henry's mind seems to have been fixed on foreign conquest, and his aim was nothing less than the sovereignty of France. That kingdom was miserably vexed by the feuds of its powerful lords : the war between the respective parties of the Dauphin and the duke of Burgundy, shook the foundations of the state ; and hence, in the creed of conquerors, it presented to ambition a legitimate field, a fair arena, on which armies might contend for the mastery, while a suffering nation paid the heavy cost both of victory and defeat. Henry negotiated until his preparations were complete, and in August, 1415, landed in Normandy, after having been delayed at Southampton by the detection and punishment of a treasonable con- spiracy, in which his cousin, the earl of Cambridge, and Lord Scroop, his favoured intimate, were desperately and unaccountably concerned. Six thousand men-at-arms and twenty-four thousand archers were mar- shalled on the shores of France, and immediately invested Harfleur, which yielded after a gallant defence. Henry was thus furnished with a strongly fortified place of arms, but it had cost him dear ; half, at least, of his numbers had either fallen in the operations of the siege, or perished by disease. Shorn of its strength, the army was now altoge- ther unequal to decisive operations; yet, although prudence clearly dictated the expediency of postponing farther movements until strongly reinforced, the king, on some strange ground of punctilious intrepidity, determined on forcing his way over the hostile ground that lay be- tween him and Calais. From this moment the campaign becomes an object of the highest interest. The constable of France, Charles d'Al- bret, though far from a first-rate commander, seems to have acted under sound advice. Aware of the faults which had led to the dis- comfiture of Cressy and Poitiers, he adopted a cautious and defensive policy, fully resolved not to fight except on such vantage-ground and with such favourable odds of number, as to make victory certain Strong corps of partizans hung upon the march of the English, press- ing on their flanks and rear, wasting the country around, and occupy- ing every defensible post, while the main army of the French held, in overpowering force, the right bank of the Somme. Leaving out of consideration the primary error — the mal-apropos entertainment of the point of honour — nothing could be more ably conducted than the movements and manoeuvres of Henry. Finding the fords of the Somme palisaded and strongly guarded, he determined on turning it PiiRiOD.J HENliY V. 365 by its sources, and for that purpose moved off by his right, at the same tinio seizing every opportunity of attempting to find or force a passage. Hiippily tlie negligence of tii(> garrison of St Quentin saved iiim eight (lays of disastrous inarcli, amid j)rivations of all kinds, and with soldiers dehilitated, though not dislieartened, by disease. He lost no tiirie in pushing his army across the river, and establishing it on tlie ojjposite bank ; six days afterwards the battle of Azincour was fought. It was on the 2oth of October that this memorable conflict took place, to the inmiortal honour of the English sovereign as a warrior and general; whether to the equal credit of his prudence and humanity, is a point less easily ascertained. Nothing could exceed the ability of Henry's arrangements : the strength of his position was essentially defensive, but he showed himself fully prepared for the more vigorous alternative when demanded by circumstances. The French fought stoutly, but their masses were ill handled, and the terrific discharge of the English archery kept the men-at-arms from closing. Still with such energy and perseverance did the French soldiery attack, that the British line was at first borne back a spear's length, and it was only by dint of hard fighting that the ground could be recovered. At last, however, the unwieldy and closely-pressed masses of the constable's divisions, assailed in front, turned on their flanks, and menaced in rear, became an intimidated and ungovernable mob, which the English, with bill, sword, lance, and club, butchered without resistance. The victory was gained, 1. Through Henry's admirable choice and skilful occupation of his ground ; 2. By his prompt seizure of the critical moment for changing his system of defence into a bold and vigorous offensive ; 3. By the error of the constable in allowing himself to engage on ground where his divisions were hampered by their own numbers ; 4. By the terrible ferocity with which the English soldiers fought. The king was in the greatest personal danger : once was he struck to the ground by the blow of a mace, and a stroke fiom the duke of Alencon's sword cleaved the crown which erbcircled his helmet. Six- teen hundred of the victors fell, including the earl of Suffolk and the duke of York.* Other authorities greatly reduce the numbers re- ported as slain. " They," (the French,) says an old writer, " had, according to their own reckoning, more than sixty thousand that drew the sword, when our fighting men did not exceed six thou- sand ; and out of their numbers fell the dukes of Brabant, Barre, and Alen^on, five earls, upwards of ninety barons and standard-bearers, whose names are written in the book of records ; and more than one thousand five hundred knights, according to their own computation, and between four and five thousand other nobles, being nearly all the nobility of the French knighthood. And there were taken of the re- maining number, the dukes of Orleans and Bourbon ; the earls of Richeraund, de Vendosme, and de Jeve ; also the most mighty soldier- Lord Bu^icald, marshal of France, and but few other noblemen."* The glory of this splendid victory was clouded by an act of barbarity 10 which allusion has been already made. A band of marauders, while the fight was at the hottest, sacked a village in the English rear, where all the baggage had been lodged. The king, a]){)rized * Moiibtrelet. > Slouiie MS. 366 POLITICAL SERIES. [Thike ef the fact, but not aware of its real nature, ordered, under the im- pression that it was a regular assault by a numerous division, all his prisoners to be put to the sword. To us of the present day, when milder maxims prevail in war, this act appears little better than an atrocious massacre, but by contemporaries, it was considered as a reso- lution severe, indeed, but justified by the emergency ; and so com- pletely was it regarded in this light by the French themselves, that they punished the individuals whose plundering expedition had occa- sioned the slaughter, as having driven Henry to so fatal a necessity. The victory was not followed up. Henry returned to England with his booty, and during nearly two years abstained from farther aggres- sion. At length, however, he was tempted to another effort by the miserable condition to which France was reduced through the struggle for power between the factions of the dauphin and the duke of Bur- gundy. After much negotiation, and a disgusting exhibition of selfish and faithless character, the leading parties consented to a compromise of their respective claims, and agreed to a union of their forces against the formidable invader M'ho now stood upon the soil of France at the separate invitation of them both. Indignant at this foul play, and re- solute to take revenge for the intrigue of which he had been the dupe, Henry, having already made himself master of Normandy, advanced towards the capital, and having seized Pontoise, paused awhile to watch the course of events, wliich was speedih' turned in his favour by an act of the darkest treachery. The dastardly and impolitic assassination of the duke of Burgundy under the eye of the dauphin, threw the whole Burgundian party into the arras of Henry. The regency, — the succession to the crown, — the hand of the princess of France, — were all pledged to him; and in the winter of 1420, he entered Paris in triumjjh, where his claims were acknowledged and the treaty ratified by the three estates of the realm. Early in 1421, he returned to England, and his progress from the coast to his capital was an uninterrupted tri- umphal procession, terminated by the splendid coronation of his beau- tiful queen. A partial defeat of his troops in Anjou, which cost him the life of his brother, the duke of Clarence, recalled him to France at the head of a formidable reinforcement. This success had been gained chiefly by the Scottish auxiliaries of the dauphin, and Henry gave fresh proof of a fierce and vindictive temper, by hanging every Scot taken in arms during the operations which ensued. He now sur- rounded himself with regal magnificence, and exercised the functions of regent without challenge or control ; but in the midst of his victo- rious exultation, a mightier arm had smitten him ; a secret disease was sapping his constitutional vigour, and in the full cai'eer of conquest he was met by the stern arrest of the ' fell sergeant.* He exhibited in the last moments of existence all the firmness of his character, received the viaticum with devotion, and affirmed that it had been his intention to undertake a crusade for the recovery of Jerusalem, after he should have completed the subjugation of France. He died August 31, 1422, leaving his infant son under the guardianship of the earl of Warwick, and the government of England and France to his brothers, the dukes of Bedford and Gloucester. Henry died almost in the very flush and spring- tide of his youth, and the consequent brevity of his reign, with the military events which Pi-iiioD.] LORD COBIIAM. 367 gave it a distinguisliing character, made his domestic government com- paratively insignificant; yot it may be observed, in general, that he was not unreluctant to gratify his faitliful connnons — tlie source of the liberal supplies which enabled him to achieve his foreign conquests — by conceding and confirming their claim to an equal share in the h'gisla- tion of the kingdom. niKD A. u. 1417. Sir John Oldcastle, sometimes called ' the good Lord Cobham,* was born in the reign of Edward III. He obtained his peerage, by .narrying tiie heiress of that Lord Cobham who, with so much virtue and patriotism, opposed the tyrannical measures of Richard IL In early life, he became a zealous supporter of the Wicklifiites, and besides expending large sums in the transcription and circulation of that re- former's writings, he maintained a number of his disciples as itinerant preachers in various parts of the country. Not contented with the revival of the famous statute against provisors, Lord Cobham, in con- junction with Sir Richard Story, Sir Thomas Latimer, and othei^ of the reforming party, prepared a series of articles against the abuses then prevalent among churchmen, which they presented in the form of a remonstrance to the commons. These measures drew upon him the indignation of the whole ecclesiastical order throughout England ; and various attempts were made to crush him and his coadjutors before their party liad gathered sufficient strength to defend itselfl On the ac- cession of Henry IV., Lord Cobham was invited to court, and soon after deceived the joint command, with the earl of Arundel, of the armament which Henry sent to the aid of the duke of Burgundy. It would appear, from his acceptance of this commission, that the disciple had not yet entirely reconciled himself to the peaceable task of his master. Per- haps — as Gilpin observes — like other casuists, he indulged a favourite point, and found arguments to make that indulgence lawful. One of the first measures which Arundel prevailed on Henry V. to adopt, was the appointment of a commission to inquire into the growth of heresy at Oxford. Oxford was the chief seat of the new and pesti- lential heresy. Here WicklifF had laboured, and here the learning, the eloquence, the labours, and the unshrinking fortitude of the apostolic man were yet the objects of admiration. The commissioners fulfilled their task, and reported that the new heresy still continued to spread and fester among the students, and that this was mainly owing to the example and patronage of the Lord Cobham, who not only avowedly held heretical opinions himself, but encouraged scholars, by bountiful stipends, to propagate these opinions throughout the country. The convocation hereupon determined to enforce the penalties of the law against the noble heretic ; but the king, unwilling to sacrifice his faithful servant and friend, undertook the task himself of prevailing on him to retract his errors. Lord Cobham's answer to the speech in which Henry endeavoured to convince him of his errors and Iiigh offence in separating from the church, is upon record : " I ever was," said he. 368 POLITICAL SEEIES. [Third " and I hope ever will be, a dutiful subject to your majesty. Next to the obedience which I owe to God, is that which I profess to my king. But as for the spiritual dominion of the pope, I never could see on what foundation it rested, neither can I pay him any obedience. As sure as the word of God is true, to me it seems evident, that the pope is the o-reat antichrist foretold in holy writ." Baffled in the attempt to con- vince his heretical subject of his errors, the king allowed the archbishop to pursue his own measures ; and accordingly Cobham was cited to appear before the ecclesiastical tribunal on a fixed day, and, failing to appear, was pronounced contumacious, and solemnly excommunicated The next step, Cobham foresaw, would prove fatal to him, unless he could interest the king in his favour. With this view, he put in writing a confession of his faith, and, waiting upon the king, placed it in his hands, entreating him to consider the whole case, and to judge for himself in the matter. The king received the document, but coldly ordered it to be given to the archbishop. Cobham then offered to adduce one hundred knights who would bear testimony to the innocence of his life and opinions ; but the king still continued silent. At this instant, a person entered the audience-chamber, and, in the king's presence, cited Cobham to appear before the archbishop, and he was immediately hurried to the tower. On being brought before the primate the first time, he M'as offered absolution and remission of past offences, on his expressi-ng his regret and penitence ; but this he sternly declined doing. At his second examination, he was asked, whether, in the sacrament of the supper, after the words of consecration, there re- mained any material bread ? To which he replied : " My belief is, that Christ's body is contained under the form of bread." He was next asked, whether he thought confession to a priest of absolute necessity ? To which he replied, that he thought it might be, in many cases, useful to ask the opinion of a priest, if he were a learned and pious man ; but he considered it by no means necessary to salvation. Being questioned about the pope's right to St Peter's chair, he answered : " He that foUoweth Peter the nighest in holy living, is next him in succession." And being pressed to say what he thought of the pope, he boldly re- plied : " That he and you together make whole the great antichrist ; he is the head, you bishops and priests the body, and the begging friars are the tail." He was finally asked, what he thought of the wor- ship of images and holy relics ? "I pay them no manner of regard," was the undaunted reply. The archbishop then observed that he found lenity was thrown away upon the prisoner, but again offered him the alternative to submit to the church, or abide the consequences. " My faith is fixed," replied his lordship, "do with me what you please." Where- upon the archbishop, standing up, and taking oft' his cap, pronounced aloud the censure of the church : but some months were allowed to elapse, without proceeding to extremities against the prisoner. In the meantime his lordship effected his escape from the tower, and hastened into Wales, where, under the protection of some of the chiefs of that country, he defied the pursuit of his enemies. A miserable attempt has been made by some popish writers, to represent Lord Cobliam as soon afterwards appearing in St Giles's fields, at tlie head of a body of rebels, amounting to twenty thousand men. It is indeed true, that the church party succeeded in convincing the king that Cobham was extensively engaged m treasonable practices, and a price was in consequence set upon his head ; but the whole affair, and espe- cially the Giles's fields conspiracy, was a pure invention of his lord- ship's, enemies, as Fox has most satisfactorily proved, in his ' Defence of Lord Cobham against Alanus Copus.' ' In a i)arliament, held at Leicester a k\v months after, a bill was brought in, declaring tliat heresy should incur the forfeitures of treason, and that those viio had broken prison, after having been convicted of heresy, should be liable in the full penalties, unless they rendered themselves again, — a clause too evi- dently aimed at Cobham, to require comment from us. For a period of four years. Lord Cobham remained an exile in Wales, shifting fre- quently the scene of his retreat. At last he was betrayed by Lord Povvis, and conducted to London, where, with every instance of barbar- ous insult, he suffered death in St Giles's fields. BORN A. D. 1421 DIKD A. D. 1471. At the accession of this prince, the conjuncture was ominous of disaster to England. Henry of Azincour, by his victories and negoti- ations, had placed the nation on an eminence at once so lofty and so hazardous, as to require, perhaps, even more than his own energy and skill for its firm holding ; yet this doubtful elevation was now to be maintained by a power of which the elements were, an infant king, a wrangling regency, and a people among whom the feelings of partizan- ship had not as yet had time to wear out. That section of history which includes the effort to clear away the rubbish of ancient preju- dices, and the wreck of barbarous institutions, was, with respect to the English people, still in progress. It had never occurred to them that the mere quarrel of dynasties could not, in any way, concern the state ; nor that the particular strife between the families of York and Lancaster, presented no prospect in the triumph of either party, of the smallest compensation for the miseries of civil war. Hence, they were ever ready, like soldiers of fortune, to peril their lives in the cause of any popular chieftain, who might, under whatever pi-etext of injury or right, raise the standard of revolt. A strong arm, and determined re- solution, combined in a single ruler, might have contracted this tur- bulent spirit, or given it vent in foreign enterprize ; but the council of regency was a divided body ; and the seasonable interposition of par- liament seems to have been absolutely necessary to prevent an actual warfare between Cardinal Beaufort and the duke of Gloucester ; the former, a son of John of Gaunt ; the latter, brother to the late king ; and both of them leading members of the administration. The prelate seems to have been a man greedy of gain, yet making his avarice subservient to his policy ; ambition was another of his besetting sins ; and in his advance towards his object, he did not permit scruples ' We are not surprised to find th« hasty, iiiarcurate, and prejudiced Hume, carelesslj- following the authority of Walsingham — a mere bigot — upon this point ; but it doe's surprise us to find the Giles's fields conspiracy treated with all the gravity of authentic history by such a man as Dr Lingard. See his 3d vol. p. 333. I. 3 A of conscience to interpose with any obvious effect. The character ot the duke presents a harder problem for solution. He was accomplished and popular ; but in more substantial qualities he appears to have been deficient. Innnorality, inconsistency, and miserable selfishness, mark his conduct, as i-ecorded in history. He outraged public decency in his successive marriages to Jacqueline of Hainault, and Eleanor Cob- ham, while he sacrificed the interests of his country in favour of his own absurd claims to the sovereignty of Holland. His elder brother, the duke of Bedford, held the high and hazardous office of regent of France, and his efforts to maintain and extend his authority were con- tinually thwarted by the waywardness of Gloucester. This state of things was favourable to what may be termed the na- tional, in opposition to the Anglo-Burgundian party in France, and the commanders of the French troops were not slow to take advantage of the crisis. Their first effort had for its object the capture of Cre- vant, a fortress of importance on the river Yonne, and the siege was formed by a division of French soldiers, aided by three thousand Scot- tish auxiliaries, the whole under the command of the earl of Buchan, constable of Scotland. Four thousand Englishmen-at-arms, led by the earl of Salisbury, marched for the relief of the town, and a fierce battle was fought, which ended in the defeat of the allies, and the cap- ture of their commander. The chief loss fell on the Scots, who bore the brunt of the conflict, and to whom little quarter was given. This savage extermination appears to have been perpetrated in revenge for the death, not long before, of the duke of Clarence, who fell in a rash attack on a superior force of Scottish troops in French pay. These faithful auxiliaries seem, indeed, to have been, at this time, the main support of the national cause, and in the following year tliey formed the strength of the army, which fought the strenuously contested bat- tle of VerneuH, gained by the duke of Bedford over a force doubling the numbers of his own. Never was victory more fiercely contended for than on this bloody day ; and it was at last decided by a powerful reserve of archers, which, after having repelled a determined charge made by a strong body of Italian cavalry on the English rear, was brought up fresh, and flushed with victory, to the support of their countrymen. The duke of Alen9on yielded himself prisoner, and the earl of Buchan was killed.' These brilliant successes were, however, rendered ineffectual by the absurd ambition of the duke of Gloucester, who employed the troops which were urgently required by the regent in aid of the great objects of the war, in a miserable attempt to enforce liis own claims, in right of his wife Jacqueline, to the lordship of Bra- bant. Bedford was, moreover, at this critical period, compelled to leave France, that he might mediate between Gloucester and Beaufort. But a crisis was now approaching which was to render all these achievements ineffectual, and to commence a series of events which were to terminate in the final extinction of all schemes for the perma- nent subjugation of France. The duke of Bedford, who was no less eminent as a statesman than as a warrior, seems to have been fully aware of the precariousness of the tenure by which England held her French conqiiests ; and when the question, whether the English troops ' Monslrelet. f^liould pass the Loire, was agitatoii among his councillors, gave his de- cided opinion against the enterprise. He sufl'ered, however, his own better judgment to be overpowered by the urgency of others, and gavo a reluctant consent to the employment of an army in the siege of Or- leans, a i)lace strongly fortified and of the utmost importance as the key of the southern jjrovinces. The earl of Salisbury, reputed the ablest of the English generals, took the command of the besieging troops, and, on the 12th of October, 1428, encamped before the city. The French, meanwhile, were not negligent of their interest : La Hire, Xaintrailles, Dunois, the most illustrious warriors of their age and country, were on the spot, and a strong garrison occupied every assail- able point. At an early period of the siege the English sustained the irreparable loss of their commander, who was mortally wounded while reconnoitering the defences ; he was succeeded by the earl of Suffolk, and for a time the operations were pushed forward vigorously and suc- cessfully. In February 1429, the ' Battle of Herrings' was gained by Sir John Fastolfe — a gallant officer, maugre the liberties taken with hisi name — and the investment of the place having been completed, the be- sieged offered to surrender upon terms which were, however, deemed inadmissible. At this desperate moment when all seemed lost, and the French monarch, abandoned by many of those who had hitherto held to him in all fortunes, was meditating a retreat to the south-eastern ex- tremity of France, he was saved by one of those miraculous interfer- ences which are, every now and then, occurring in history, as if for the express purpose of baffling human counsel, and bringing to nought the enterprises of men. Joan d'Arc, the daughter of poor labouring pea- sants of Domremy, and herself the menial of a petty inn,- suddenly appeared upon the scene, claiming to have been sent by the decree and inspiration of heaven for the deliverance of France. This is not the place for inquiry, special and minute, into all the circumstances of this singular transaction ; notwithstanding that the general opinion seems to incline towards the belief, that the enterprise of the ' Maiden' was un- dertaken without previous counsel or arrangement, and that it was the unsuggested impulse of her own fanaticism, there are indication^ neither few nor unimportant, which may lead to an opposite conclusion ; none, however, that can in the slightest degree impeach her character, or justify the inhuman conduct of her destroyers. Leaving, then, these doubtful investigations, it may suffice to say, that the French leaders exerted themselves with energy and ability, while the presence of Joan of Arc inspirited the soldiery. La Hire and Dunois directed the opera- tions. The English generals, on the contrary, seem to have acted with little either of talent or boldness ; they allowed Orleans to be relieved almost without opposition! and suffered themselves to be divided and beaten in detail. Suffolk and Talbot were taken prisoners, as they de- served, for fighting without concert, and under circumstances which made defeat certain, and would have neutralised success, had success been possible. Joan entered Orleans in triumph, and conducted Charles in safety through a hostile territory to Rheims, where his coro- nation was regularly performed. The mission of the ' Maiden' was now completed, and her career well nigh run ; she failed in an attempt ' Monstrelet, 372 POLITICAL SERIES. [Third lo storm Paris, and in May 1430 was made prisoner by the Burgun- dians, who sold her to the English, by whom, in the following year, she was burnt as a witch.^ It is customary, at this particular point, for the historian of the times to stop and tax his invention for novelties in the way of indignant reproach of the English chiefs for this atro- eious execution. Perhaps, however, there may have been somewhat too much of this. If we, of the present day, have ceased to burn and drown for the imputed crime of witchcraft, it may be well to allow due force to the consideration that, in the fifteenth century, it was guilt lit- tle less than that of sorcery itself, either to doubt of its existence, or to extend mercy to the sworn lieges of the prince of darkness. Perhaps, too, it may tend to diminish an excess of sympathy with the ' Maid of Orleans,"' if it be recollected, that but a few short days before her own capture, she ordered a Burgundian general, taken in fair battle, to be beheaded on the field. After all, France was more indebted tc the strife of parties in England, and to the secession of the duke of Burgundy from tlie English alliance, than to the relief of Orleans, or the consecration at Rheims. The death of the duke of Bedford, in September 1435, delivered the French from their most formidable enemy. In the meantime, England was oppressed by the evils of a minority. Misrule prevailed in the government, disorder and peculation in the finances ; at home the state of society was unsettled, and abroad, the French war wasted the sources of the national strength, while it abundantly enriched those favoured individuals who were enabled to profit by its casualties. The regency of France yielded to Bedford 20,000 crowns monthly ; and in one year the government of Nor- mandy realized the sum of 950,000 francs." In the negotiations for peace, which took place at Arras in 1435, the reasonable con- ditions offered by the French were rejected by the English, and the duke of Burgundy immediately concluded a separate treaty, and the death of the duke of Bedford gave the final blow to the supremacy of England. The duke of York and other officers made a gallant stand against the advancing and increasing power of France, but the pressure was too strong for their means of resistance, and, in the event, nearly every vestige of invasion was swept away. Years, meanwhile, were passing away, and Henry was advancing towards his majority. He made repeated efforts to obtain a more de- cided participation in the government, but they were rendered ineffec- tual by the veto of Beaufort and his coadjutors in the council, of whom the earl of Suffolk was the most influential. To the counsels of this nobleman is to be ascribed the marriage of the young Henry with Margaret of Anjou, daughter of the titular king of Sicily and Jeru- salem. These disastrous nuptials were attended by strange circum- stances. In all such transactions, it had been usual to seek for some substantial advantage, in the shape either of treasure or of territorial acquisition, but in the present instance Suffolk consented to purchase a dowerless bride by the cession of important districts in France. She was, indeed, beautiful, accomplished, and high spirited, but her per- sonal interference in the administration was most injui'ious to the conn- " Meyer, 316. * I'liilip do Coniines. Pkriod.] henry VI. 373 try, while to herself, her family, and friends, it was destructive. The lirst act of the party, with wliich tliis ill-judging woman chose to iden- tify her interests, was the arrest and probable murder of the duke of Ciioucester early in 1447. Six weeks afterwards, his old and unrelent- ing enemy, Cardinal Beaufort, went to his account — a prelate describ- ed by the old chronicles, as "more noble of blood than notable in learning, haught in stomach, and high in countenance ; rich above measure of all men, and to few liberal ; disdainful to his kin, and dreadful to his lovers ; preferring money before friendship ; many things beginning and nothing performing." ^ By the death of these statesmen, Suffolk was raised without a rival to the summit of power, but his unpopularity continued and increased, nor could the queen's favour shield him from impeachment. Many of Suf- folk's acts were singularly impolitic, and liable, if not to suspicion, at least to severe animadversion, yet his enemies seem to have been at a loss for matter of positive accusation, and they were at last com- pelled to adopt an extrajudicial procedure, for the purpose of effecting his banishment. He sailed from Ipswich, but a squadron from the cinque-ports interrupted him, and, after a mockery of trial, he was beheaded with a rusty sword, by an inexpert hand. His administra- tion had sown abundantly the seeds of disaffection, and his death awak- ened apprehensions of vindictive visitation. The men of Kent rose under the command of Jack Cade, who assumed the name of Morti- mer, and obtained, for a time, unresisted possession of London, but was ultimately expelled by the armed citizens, aided by the garri- son of the tower. This was the crisis of Cade's fortunes ; his follow- ers were tempted by an amnesty to disperse, and he himself was slain, fighting valiantly. But a more powerful, and, though not a braver, a moi-e skilful leader, was about to take the field against the Lancasteri- an king and his imperious bride. Richard, duke of York, inherited the claims of the dispossessed line, and, amid the most spacious pro- fessions of fidelity and loyalty, was steadily watching the course of events, and awaiting the favourable moment for decisive action. He was a gallant and successful soldier ; his campaigns in France furnish sufficient evidence of his military talents, and had he possessed, in ad- dition to his other high qualities as a commander, the discriminating energy which distinguished his son, he might have anticipated him in the attainment of royal honours. The Lancasterian family had held the throne long enough to acquire all the right that possession can give ; but the pretensions of the duke of York were, in theory, the best founded. Although the descendant of a younger branch, on the paternal side, he inherited from his mother the claims of the Morti- mers, derived from the daughter of Lionel, elder brother of John of Gaunt, the founder of the house of Lancaster. The session of parlia- ment which took place at the close of the year, in 1451, was marked by extreme violence between the two parties, and early in the follow- ing year the duke raised troops in Wales from among the retainers of the house of Mortimer, and advanced towards London. Failing in his attempt on the capital, he fell back to Dartford, where, after some negotiation, he laid down his arms, and was, after some hesitation, per- » Hall. 374 POLITICAL SERIES. [Third mitted to retire unharmed to his own estates. To the humanity of the king, York was mainly indebted for his life. The duke of Somerset, the near relative and favourite councillor of the monarch, strongly urged extreme measures ; but the mild and merciful Henry shrunk from blood, and the lords of the council were influenced by a report, that the earl of March was advancing to his father's rescue. The year 1453 was marked by important circumstances. The queen was delivered of a son, to whom was given the popular name of Edward ; but the favourable effects of this event were much dimin- ished, by the national indignation at the disastrous issue of the war in France, when the last possessions of the English, in the south, fell into the hands of the French king. The most influential event, however, was the indisposition of Henry, who sunk into a state of mental and corporeal debility, which entirely disabled him from the slightest interference in the business of government, and threw the administration of affairs into the hands of the duke of York, who was, in March, 1454, declared protector, an office which he held but for a few months, the king recovering his health, and resuming, in the course of the same year, the exercise of his regal office. Henry was now placed in circumstances of much difficulty. One of the first acts of the protector had been the imprisonment of his great opponent, the duke of Somerset ; and it might have been expected that this violent measure would be severely visited, when the recovery of the king should restore his favourite to liberty and power. Henry's conduct was, however, at once humane and wise. He strove to rficoncile the rivals ; and, although he must have sustained much urgency to extreme measures, from his queen and from Somerset, he found, in the kindness of his own heart, motives for firm resistance. His benevolence was ill repaid. York probably felt that, although the king was to be trusted, those about him were actuated by feelings too fiercely vindic- tive, and by suspicions too reasonable, to admit of a temporizing policy. He acted with decision and promptitude : at the head of his armed retainers, and seconded by the earls of Salisbury and Warwick, he advanced upon London, and encountered the royal forces at St Alban's, May 22, 1455. He gained a complete victory. Somerset, Northum- berland, Clifford fell, and Henry was made prisoner. A confused series of intrigues and feuds followed this event. For a season York administered the national affairs, under his old title of protector. The king, who has been well described as " the only impartial maii in his dominions," ^ laboured to bring all parties to a reasonable compromise, and he so far succeeded, as to get up a showy and theatrical afl'air of a procession to St Paul's, in which those who had, until then, been inveterate foes, walked arm in arm, as inseparable friends : this was early in 1458, and, before the year was out, the parties were quarrelling more fiercely than ever. In 1459, the wrangling grew to fighting ; Salisbury gained a victory over the royalists at Bloreheath, but, before the end of the month, the treachery of Sir Andrew Trollop compelled the Yorkists to disperse without further contest. Then came confiscations and attainders, on the part of the Lancasterians — enterprises and successes, on that of their antagonists ; • Linaard. PERTOn.j HENRY VI. 375 until the battle of Northampton, brief but bloody, gave them anew the ascendancy, and the custody of tlic king's person. The duke of York now venlured a farther and bolder stop : he claimed the throne, as of ri"-ht, unimpaired by the lapse of time during which it had been un- claimed. This demand was laid bcjfore Henry, M-hose reply was short and pithy " My father was king ; his father was also king ; I have worn the crown forty years, from my cradle ; you have all sworn fealty to me as your sovereign, and your fathers have done the like to my fathers ; how then can my right be disputed ? " The question of right was largely discussed in the house of lords, and various schemes were proposed for its settlement: at length it was proposed, and ratified by the a"-reement of both parties, that Henry should possess the crown for life, but that its reversion should be in the duke and his heirs.'' The queen, however, and a powerful party still made a resolute stand for the line of Lancaster ; the duke of York suffered himself to be brought to action, near Wakefield, on terms of inferiority, and paid the penalty of his rashness with his life. His youngest son, the duke of Rutland, then only in his twelfth year, was butchered after the battle by ' bloody Clifford.' The war now assumed a sterner and a hi,:^her character Edward, the heir of York, appears to have been a consunnnate warrior, rapid and decisive in his movements, skilful and forecasting in his arrangements. He was, at the time of his father's death, at the head of a separate division, and, on learning that event, he hastened to intersect the line by which the victors were marching on the capital. A force, inferior to his own, but still formidable in numbers, under the command of the earl of Pembroke, pressed upon his rear, and not only impeded his movements, but threatened to place him between the two royalist armies, which were now in the field. Edward, however, was a commander too decided in character, and too prompt in evolution, to be thus caught in a trap. He turned fiercely on his pursuers, and put them to the rout with tremendous slaughter, at Mortimer's Cross, near Wigmore. The victory was followed by executions, in savage retaliation for his father's and his brother's death. This action was fought on the first of February, 1461 ; and, on the 17th of the same month, the success was balanced by the defeat of Warwick, at St Alban's, where he was attacked by tlie queen's army, and saved from irretrievable ruin only by the approach of night. Henry was found by the victors in his tent, and once more embraced his wife and son. But Edward was on his march, flushed with conquest, and the troops which fled from St Alban's had rallied on his victorious battalions ; the royal army retired northwards, and he entered London in triumph. Re- jecting all temporizing measures, he accepted the defiance of his an- tagonists, as a violation of the late agreement, and at once, amid the shouts of the Londoners, assumed the titles and offices of royalty. The day of his proclamation, March 4, 1461, is historically taken as deter- mining the reign of Henry VI. ; and, from that date, Edward IV. stands in the national annals as king of England. If personal character, if amiable dispositions, perfect integrity, and steady piety, could, in unstable times, have given stability to the throne, the sovereignty of Henry would have been unehallengid : men 376 POLITICAL SERIES. [Thire of all ranks and every party would have given their willing service t<» a king who seems, in perfect freedom from every taint of selfishness, to have, in simple sincerity, desired the well-being of his subjects, without a reserve for his own interest. Ambition he had none — his were the virtues of private life ; and it may be questioned, whether he were not happier even in his hours of imprisonment, than when seated on an unsteady and ensanguined throne. Tt is not, however, to be over- looked, that in perilous and uncertain seasons, dispositions of this kind may effect irreparable mischief. An indolent or weak-minded acqui- escence becomes not the character or conduct of him to whose authority and management the fortunes of the commonwealth are intrusted. Henry, too, had difficulties to struggle with, before which more resolute spirits might have quailed. A turbulent people opposed him on one hand, while an imperious wife urged him on the other ; and he was compelled to yield an assent to much which his kind feelings lamented, and his better judgment disapproved. Out of all these evils good was elicited, though probably less than might have resulted from a different state of things. The interference of parliament in the government of the realm became daily more necessary and more decided. The lords assumed a lofty attitude, as the ultimate referees in extreme cases ; and the commons claimed an unlimited control over the public revenue and expenditure. Soijn, mnkt of BetrfmH. DIED A. D. 1435. Upon the decease of Henry V., John of Lancaster, duke of Bedford, was appointed to the regency of both kingdoms, M'ith the administration of France. Inferior to his brother, the late king, in abilities, he greatly surpassed him in the more amiable qualities of the heart, to which he also added — what was more rare in these days — great prudence and sagacity. By his judicious management of the foreign regency, the provinces recently torn from the crown of France were retained for his infant nephew, notwithstanding the impolitic attempt of Gloucester upon Hainault, and the want of harmony which perpetually disturbed the counsels and operations of the allies. It was with extreme reluctance that this cool-headed and experienced nobleman consented to the rash attempt which was made by the allies upon the provinces behind the Loire. It is not indeed easy to guess how the expedition against Orleans could have been made without his consent ; but the fact is certain, that he disapproved of the whole plan of that campaign — the result of which we have detailed in the preceding memoir — for, in a letter addressed, after its failure, to the king his nephew, he uses the following language : " All things prospered with you, till the tyme of the seage of Orleans, taken in hand God knoweth by what advice."' The death of the duchess of Bedford, sister to the duke of Burgundy, in 1432, shook the alliance which had hitherto existed between the English and Burguudians ; and the precipitate union of the regent witli ' Rot. Pari. Period.] HUMPHREY, DUKE OF GLOUCESTER. 377 Jacquetta, or Jacqueline of Liixemburf^, a vassal of the Burj^indian, wliicli took place within one year after tlie late duchess's death, has- tened the dissolution of the confederacy. It was in vain that the car- dinal of Winchester laboured lo effect a reconciliation betwixt the two dukes. The high spirit of Bedford felt mortally aj^grieved at the taunts with which he of Burgundy had received intelligence of the projected marriage ; and the Burgundian not less keenly resented the disrespect offered to his sister's memory. Cardinal Beaufort, indeed, succeeded in brinsring them both to consent to an interview at St Omer ; but they eagerly availed themselves of some trifling point of etiquette, to decline a personal conference, and departed in mutual and irremediable disgust. Bedford lived to witness, and doubtless to lament, the bitter fruits of his obstinacy. The negotiations of Arras annihilated Henry's power in France ; and before the congress, which met there in 1435, had broken up, the gallant Bedford, worn out by past efforts and the pressure of hopeless anxiety, expired at Rouen. He left the reputation of a prudent statesman and able general, and his memory was justly re- spected both by friends and foes. He was buried in the cathedral of Rouen, on the right hand of the high altar ; and when, some years later, it was suggested to Louis XI. to remove his bones to a less hon- ourable situation, that monarch is reported to have replied : " I will not war with the remains of a prince who was once a match for your fathers and mine, and who, were he now alive, would yet make the proudest of us tremble. Let his ashes rest in peace ; and may the Almighty have mercy on his soul."* ^mnp\)vtVf JBultr of (Gloucester. DIED A. D. 1447. On the death of Henry V., the duke of Gloucester preferred a claim to the regency on two grounds : — first, because in the absence of his elder brother, the duke of Bedford, he was the nearest of kin to his nephew, — and secondly, because the late king, while on deathbed, had appointed him to that charge. The lords held that his demand was not founded either on law or precedent ; but, to satisfy him, appointed him president of the council of regency, with the title of ' protector of the realm and church of England.' The history of his protectorate pre- sents one continued struggle with Thomas, bishop of Winchester, after- wards cardinal. Gloucester was supported by Richard, duke of York, and the Plantagenets ; the cardinal wielded the influence of the church, and had for his lay-representative, Henry Beaufort, afterwards duke of Somerset. The protector endeared himself to the nation by many po- pular qualities, and particularly by the liberal and munificent spirit which he displayed upon all-fitting occasions ; and his connexion with the regent gave him a decided advantage, had he known how to make use of it, in every struggle with his great political rival. Unfortunately he suffered himself to be swayed in too many instances by personal considerations ; and carried away by the impetuosity of his passions, ' Hall, IW) I. y B 378 POLITICAL SERIES. [Third lent himself to measures which unnerved the very arm vi^hich it was his best policy to strengthen and support. Such was his unadvised and hasty marriage with Jacqueline of Hainault, who, after having been previously betrothed to the elder brother of the king of France, be- stowed her hand upon the duke of Brabant, and finally fled from her husband to the court of England, where her charms, and perhaps still more her splendid inheritance, comprising Holland, Zealand, Friesland, and Hainault, won the heart of the duke of Gloucester. Having ob- tained a divorce between her and the duke of Brabant from the anti- pope, the protector took this woman for his wife, and immediately laid claim to her dominions. The duke of Burgundy, though the ally of England, supported Brabant, and entered so keenly into the question of her injuries, as to defy Gloucester to single combat. The challenge was fiercely accepted ; but before the duel took place, a bull from the legitimate pope appeared, declaring Jacqueline's third marriage to be null and void, and forbidding the intended combat, under pain of ex- communication. In 1428, a lady of the name of Stokes, attended by the wives of the principal citizens of London, went to the house of lords, and presented a petition against the duke, accusing him of neglecting his lawful wife, the duchess Jacqueline, and of living in open adultery with Eleanor Cobham, daughter of Reginald Lord Cobham of Sterborough. Ele- anor appears to have been a woman of exquisite beauty, but highly dissolute morals. She had already lived with different noblemen before Gloucester took her under his protection. To the surprise of Europe, the duke met- the protest of the fair citizens of London, by publicly acknowledging Eleanor as his wife; while Jacqueline, with equal sense of delicacy, bestowed her hand upon a gentleman called Frank of Bur- sellen, who was immediately seized by the Burgundians, and only re- gained his liberty by his wife ceding the greater part of her dominions. The cardinal eagerly improved the advantages which such infatuated conduct on the part of his rival placed within his reach ; and during the absence of Gloucester in Hainault, garrisoned the tower of Lon- don, and committed it to the care of Sir Richard Wydevile, with orders ' to admit no one more powerful than himself.' When the duke returned and found the gates of the tower closed against him, he retal- iated, by ordering the mayor to shut those of the city against the bishop. The next morning, the retainers of Beaufort attempted to force their way into the city, and declared that they would at least prevent the duke from quitting it. In this state of matters, the parties were with difficulty persuaded, through the intervention of the archbishop of Canterbury, to keep the peace till the return of the duke of Bedford, who was immediately called from Paris for the purpose of mediating betwixt the two rivals. The regent, on arriving in England, instantly summoned a parliament at Leicester, before which the duke of Glou- cester preferred a bill of impeachment against his uncle the bishop, in which he charged him, among other things, with having hired an assas- sin to cut off the late king while he was yet prince of Wales. In what manner the trial proceeded, we are not informed. But the quar- rel was finally adjusted in appearance through the mediation of the primate, and eight other arbitrators, whose exertions produced a show of apology from the bishop, which was accepted by Gloucester. The Period.] HUMPHREY, DUICE OF GLOUCESTER. 379 mutual animosity of tho two ministers was, however, too strong to be anniliilated by any such fcoble measures, and eacJi continued to labour secretly to strengthen their own influence by the advancement of their dependants. In 1439, the two rivals tried their strengtli in the ques- tion relating to the duke of Orleans, who had been a prisoner since the battle of Agincourt, and now petitioned urgently f(>r his liberty. The cardinal favoured, the duke opposed his petition. The king de- cided in favour of the former, and Gloucester lodged a solemn protesi against the measure. In the following year the duke experienced a still more humiliating defeat at the hands of his rival. An accusation of sorcery and treason was brought against his concubine, Eleanor. Roger Bolingbroke, one of the duke's chaplains, had been accused of necromancy, and on his apprehension declared that it was at Eleanor's instigation that he first applied to the study of magic. An investigation followed, and an in- dictment of treason was soon afterwards found against Bolingbroke and Southwell, a canon of St Paul's, as principals, and Eleanor as an ac- cessary. The former were charged with having prepared, at the solici- tation of Eleanor, a waxen image of the king, and to have exposed it to a slow heat, with the design, according to the principles of necromancy, of doing serious injury to the health of the person it represented. South- well died before his trial ; Bolingbroke was executed ; and Eleanor did penance for her crime by walking ' hoodless, save a kerchief,' through the streets of London to St Paul's, where she offered a taper. She was then committed to the custody of Sir John Stanley, who sent her to his castle of Chester, whence she is traced to Kenihvorth, wliere she disappears from historj'.' The proud and lofty spirit of Gloucester must have burned at the disgrace thus infiicted on him at the instiga- tion of his rival, but he was * obliged to take all patiently, and said little,' for the cardinal had now by his insidious representations, effectually poisoned the ear of the credulous monarch against his uncle. The final attack on Gloucester was made in the year following that of the king's marriage. " It is a transaction," says Mackintosh, " buried in deep obscurity, of which a probable account may be hazarded, but of which little, except the perpetration of an atrocious murder, can be affirmed with certainty." The old chroniclers do not hesitate to attribute Glou- cester's death to the malevolence of the queen and Suffolk, aided by the duke of Buckingham, and the two cardinals of Winchester and York.- The administration of public affairs had now fallen into the hands of William de la Pole, earl and afterwards duke of Suffolk, who soon saw in Gloucester a popular and formidable rival, and to rid him- self of him, is supposed to have eagerly adopted the policy of his patron, the cardinal, and lost no opportunity of infusing into the mind of Henry suspicions of his uncle's loyalty. On the 10th of February, 1447, the duke repaired from his castle of Devizes to Bury, to attend the openmg of a parliament which Henry had summoned to meet there. The as- Bembly opened in the usual form, and the first day passed in tranquil- lity ; but on the morning of the second, the lord viscount Beaumont, as constable of England, arrested the duke of Gloucester for divers acts of high trea^^on. Seventeen days later he M-as found dead in lii;* ' Ellis's Uoviil Letters, -2(1 Siirits. i. 107. '' ilail 380 POLITICAL SERIES. [Third prison. Reports were spread that he had died of apoplexy, and his body was exhibited to public view to show that it bore no marks of violence but suspicion whispered that there had been foul play in the business. " Some," says old Hall, " judged him to be strangled : others write that he was stiffled or smouldered between twoo father beddes." No legal inquiry was instituted into the circumstances of his death, nor does such seem to have been demanded. His friends made several efforts to clear his memory from the stain of treason, but the king re- mained obstinate ; the bill was repeatedly thrown out, and a great part of his estates were conferred on Suffolk and his adherents. This ill-fated prince was the Maecenas of his age, and to his encour- agement of literature England is deeply indebted. He is supposed to have been the founder of the Bodleian library, and under the pa- tronage which he so readily extended to men of letters, many learned foreigners were induced to settle in England, bringing with them the arts and learning of the west and south. His vices were many, but he also possessed some splendid virtues, which cast a redeeming lustre over his character ; his kindliness of disposition won for him the epithet of ' the good;' while his undeviating and impartial justice procured him the. still more honourable appellation of ' the father of his country.' BORN A. D. 1372. — DIED A, D. 1453. Ihis distinguished warrior — second son to Richard Lord Talbot— was born at Blechmore in Shropshire, in the reign of Richard H. He married Maud, the eldest of the two daughters and co-heiresses of Sir Thomas Neville. In the first year of Henry V. he was committed to the tower, but the nature of his offence is not upon record, and he ap- pears to have been but a short time in confinement. He was present at the siege of Caen in 1417, and afterwards distinguished himself at the successive sieges of Rouen, Mans, and Pontoroso. At the ever- memorable siege of Orleans, Talbot displayed such resistless valour that his courage became proverbial even with the enemy. On the capture of the earl of Suffolk, Talbot succeeded to the command of the English forces, and retired towards Paris, but was overtaken at Patay. On this occasion, Sir John Fastolfe advised Talbot to continue his re- treat as expeditiously as possible, but the latter refused to show his back to the enemy, and was in consequence made prisoner, after a sharp action, with the loss of twelve hundred men. After a tedious captivity of tjiree years and a half, the duke of Bedford found means to have him exchanged for Xaintrailles, a French officer of great reputa- tion. He now again hastened to the field, and took several fortified places with his accustomed skill and bravery. The capture of Pontoise was effected by him in a singular manner. In the beginning of 1437, the weather was so extremely cold, that the generals on both sides sus- pended military operations. But Talbot having collected a body of troops, and caused them to put white clothes or shirts over their other clothes, in order that they might not be easily distinguished from the snow with which the ground wsb then covered, brought them by a Pekiod.J sir JOHN FASTOLFE. 381 niglit march up to the walls of Pontoise, and ludking an unexpected attack upon tlie garrison, made himself master of that important place. His next conquests were Hurfleur, Tankervillo, Crotoy, Longueville, Carles, and Manille ; for all vvhieh important services he was advanced to the dignity of earl of Shrewsbury, in May, 1442. He was af- terwards appointed to the command ii. Ireland, with the title of earl of Wexford. But his presence was soon found indispensable for carrying on the war in France. His promptitude and valour protract- ed the fall of Rouen a brief space. Perceiving that the French had gained a rampart which had been entrusted to the charge of the citi- zens, he rushed to the spot, precipitated himself upon the assailants, hurling the foremost of them into the ditch beneath, and h-aving re- pelled the enemy, put the treacherous sentinels to the sword. In 1452, we find the veteran warrior — now in his eightieth year — again taking the field, and performing his usual wonders. Landing with four thou- sand men, and supported by the good-will of the Gascons, he advanced upon Bourdeaux, whereupon the French garrison, frightened, as Fuller quaintly observes, by the bare fame of his approach, fled from the spot. Chatillon, in Perigord, having surrendered soon afterwards to his arras, Charles despatched a formidable force to recover it, and Talbot has- tened to sustain his capture. By the celerity of his movements he surprised and cut to pieces a French detachment ; but on approaching the body of the enemy he found it advantageously posted and well- prepared to sustain his attack, being strongly entrenched and provided with a field of artillery. Undismayed, however, by the fearful odds, and flushed by his recent success, the veteran hazarded an assault, and was so gallantly supported by his men, that for a time the balance of victory hung in suspense. But a shot having struck down their gene- ral, and Count Penthievre coming up at the critical moment with fresh troops, the English gave way and retreated on all sides. Talbot was first buried at Rouen in France, but his body was afterwards removed to Whitchurch in Shropshire. He has been called ' the English Achilles,' and seems to have merited the title, if indomitable valour and nearly uniform success in his personal encounters might confer it BORN CIRC. A. D. 1378. DIED A. D. 1459. Sib John Fastolfe, whose name has obtained so whimsiccd a spe- cies of immortality from the unwarrantable liberty taken with it by our great dramatist, was descended from an ancient and honourable English family in the county of Norfolk. Being left a minor, he became the ward of Thomas Mowbray, duke of Norfolk. On the accession of Henry IV., he entered the service of the duke of Clarence, whom he accompanied to Ireland. During his residence in that country, he married the widow of Sir Stephen Scroope. He commenced his mili- tary career in Henry the Fifth's expedition against France, and won his spurs by his honourable services in the war which followed. For having retaken the town of Meulent from the French, he was created a banneret, and entrusted with an extensive lieutenancy ; and shortly 382 POLITICAL SERIES. [TniKJi afterwards was honoured with a knight-companionship of the garter, having been adjudged more worthy of that high honour than Sir John Radcliffe, his gallant companion-in-arms. Monstrelet has affirmed, that for subsequent cowardice, the duke of Bedford deprived the new knight- companion of his garter, but this is altogether a misrepresentation of facts. Fastolfe never was tried for any charge, and, therefore, could not be degraded ; he never ceased to enjoy the confidence of the duke ; nor, if he had, was it in the duke's power to deprive him of what was the gift of his sovereign ; and as to the alleged piece of misconduct, his retreat, namely at Patay, when Talbot and Hungerford were taken prisoners, the movement by which he saved himself from sharing their fate, has been pronounced by good judges to have been a very masterly display of military science, and not less worthy of praise than any of those actions by which he had previously earned the reputation of a brave and skilful officer. In 1431, Sir John accompanied the regent into France, and was soon afterwards despatched on an embassy to the council of Basle. When Richard, duke ot York, succeeded to the com- mand in Normandy, he evinced his sense of Fastolfe's merits and ser- vices by bestowing upon him an annual pension of £20. At length, after having borne arms in the service of his country, during a period of above forty years, he retired in 1440 to his ances- tral estates in England, and settled at Caister in Norfolk, where he built a very splendid castle, which he rendered the scene of much hospi- tality and magnificence. The Paston letters have thrown considerable light on Sir John's private history and character, of which Miss Ro- berts has diligently availed herself, in her memoirs of the rival houses of York and Lancaster. From the quotations inserted in that work, it would appear that while Fastolfe proved himself a liberal master and a bounteous patron of the clergy, he did not disdain to avail himself of some of those questionable means of increasing his worldly estates, which the manners and customs of the age allowed. One of the Pas- ton letters displays his eager anxiety to procure the wardship of a young heir, and the management of the minor's estate ; and in another, Fastolfe, though loaded with wealth and honours, the result of his French campaigns, speaks of his services as ' never yet guerdoned, or rewarded.' Yet this poor, unrewarded veteran died possessed of six- teen manors, landed estates in forty-nine diflferent places, and coined money to the value of about £40,000 of our present currency 1 ^ It was his well-known wealth, probably, that suggested to Queen Mar- garet and her ministers the charge of treason against our knight on the occasion of Cade's rebellion. The attempt, however, failed, and Sir John was allowed to spend his declining years in peace. He died, after a lingering illness, in 1439. His funeral obsequies were celebrated with much pomp at Norfolk, where he was buried in the abbey-church of St Bennett. Arcliscfilujiia, voL xxl. Pkuioi..] sir THOMAS LYTTLETON. 383 0iv Cfjomas aijttlcton. Dii;u A. D. 1 181. The circumstances under which England was placed by Iier early wars and internal dissensions, laid the foundation for that complicated legal system which has brought into action so many powt^rful and ac- complished minds. The subject of the present sketch has an ample right to be ranked as the head of the numerous band of excellent men who have laboured to regulate and explain this system, the evidences he has letl of his knowledge and ability having stood the test of profes- sional examination through many generations of active inquirers. This distinguished lawyer was born about the beginning of the fifteenth centur}^ and was the eldest son of Henry Westcote, Esq., and Eliza- beth, the daughter and sole heiress of Thomas Luttleton or Lyttleton, a person of great wealth at Frankley in Worcestershire, and according to whose will his daughter's eldest son was to take the name and bear the arms of Lyttleton. It is not known in which university Sir Thomas was educated, but having completed his studies, he became a member of the Iimer Temple, and was some time after appointed to the honour- able office of reader. The ability which he displayed at this early period of his career introduced him to the notice of Henry the Sixth, and he was created steward or judge of the palace or marshalsea. In the May of 1454, he obtained the rank of king's sergeant, and was made one of the judges of the northern circuit. The period in which he had to exercise these important functions was one of .almost unequalled disorder and turbulence. It was not long after his appointment to the bench that that fearful struggle began be- tween the houses of York and Lancaster, which converted their quarrel into a war, and caused the ruin of the noblest and most wealthy fami- lies in the kingdom. Did no other testimony remain to prove the worth and integrity of Sir Thomas Lyttleton's character, the fact that throughout these troubles he was equally respected by both parties, would be sufficient for that purpose. The high legal situation he oc- cupied, made it incumbent on him not to interfere in matters which might either disturb his own steadiness of judgment, or render his de cisions the subject of suspicion. That he did not, is clear from the circumstance which has been stated, and we accordingly find, that when Edward the Fourth ascended the throne, he was among the first whom the new monarch received into favour, and was allowed to retain the offices which had been bestowed upon him by the unfortunate Henry. In the year 1466, he was made one of the judges of the common pleas, and took the Northamptonshire circuit. About the same time, also, he received another mark of royal favour in the shape of a writ directed to the commissioners of customs for the ports of London, Bristol, and Kingston-upon-Hull, whereby they were ordered to pay him a hundred and ten marks per annum to support his dignity, a hun- dred and six shillings eleven pence halfpenny to buy him a furred robe, and sixty-six shillings and sixpence more for another robe, technically called Liimra. About nine years after, he was made a knight of the 384 POLITICAL SEKIES. [Third Bath, and while exercising his important duties as a judge, undertook, for the instruction of one of hjs sons, his celebrated work on the In- stitutes of the Laws of England — a treatise of which it was eloquently said by Sir Edward Coke, " that it is a work of as absolute perfection in its kind, and as free from error as any he had ever known to be written of any human learning ;" and that it is " the ornament of the common law, and the most perfect and absolute work that ever was written in any human science."^ It is supposed that this treatise was finished but a short time previous to his death, which occurred on the twenty-third of August 1481, the day after his last testament was dated. He left three sons, the issue of his marriage with the daughter of Sir Philip Chetwin, and the honourable reputation he had acquired was worthily kept up by the learning and dignity which long characterized his family. His funeral took place in Worcester cathedral, where a monument Mas raised to his memory, and the parish-churches' of Frankley and Hales-Owen were adorned with his portrait. " There,'' remarks his learned commen- tator, " the grave and reverend countenance of the outward man may be seen, but he hath left this book as a figure of that higher and nobler part, that is, of the excellent and rare endowments of his mind, espe- cially in the profound knowledge of the fundamental laws of this realm. He that diligently reads this his excellent work, shall behold the child and figure of his mind, which the more often he beholds in the visual line, and well observes him, the more shall he justly admire the judg- ment of our author and increase his own." But the greatest praise, perhaps, which a writer or commentator ever passed upon an author, is that contained in this declaration of Sir Edward : " Before I entered into any of these parts of our institutes, I, acknowledging myne own weakness and want of judgment to undertake so great works, directed my humble suit and prayer to the author of all goodness and wisdom, out of the Book of Wisdom : ' Oh, Father and God of mercy, give me wisdom, the assistant of thy seates : Oh, send her out of thy holy hea- vens, and from the seate of thy greatness, that she may be present with me, and labour with me, that I may know what is pleasing unto thee.' " The deference paid to the rules laid down in this work by the most enlightened lawyers of difterent periods, confirms all that Sir Ed- ward has said on its merits. It is recorded, that four of the greatest iudges in the reign of James the First, that is. Sir Henry Hobart, and the judges Warburton, Wynch, and Nichols, upon giving their opinion on a disputed point, publicly declared, that " they owed so great re- verence to Lyttleton, that they would not have his case disputed oi questioned." But it is not simply for the legal knowledge displayed in this celebrated work that the author merits the high fame he has ac- quired, he was learned not merely in all the branches of his profession, but in every species of literature that could strengthen or enlarge his ' In order to show the little respect which was as yet felt for the English language by the lawyers of this perioil, it may be mentioned, that the ' Institutions' were written in French. It also appears, that the work was not published till a considerable time after it was written, both the author and his son Richard, for whom it was composed, being dead before it was given to the public. The first edition of it was published at llouen, but as few books were sent to press at that early period but such as were gene- rally esteemed, it is probable that it had already acquired great popularity by circulatiou in manuscript before it appeared in print. Picuio)).] SIR JOHN FORTESQUE. 38fl mind. That he was one of the acutest logicians of the age is amply proved by the manner in which he has argued tlie most Buljtle point:^ of his science; and tliat he possessed tlie varied erudition necessary foi the efficient exercise of the most important duties with which a man in power can be charged, is asserted in tlie empliatic eulogy with which Sir Edward Coke concludes his panegyric. It is worthy of observation, that at the period when Sir 'Jlionias flourished, England possessed besides himself several men alike emi- nent in the profession of jurisprudence. Among these were Sir Richard Newton, Sir John Priscot, Sir Robert Danby, William Ascough, Sir John Fortescue, Sir John Markhani, and others of similar celebrity, before the time of these distinguished civilians, the English law was but a maze of doubt and difhculty. They contributed to clear up many of its mysteries by their strong good sense, by the fidelity with which they laboured at their judicial duties, and by the learning which most of them brought to the exercise of their functions. A higlier de- gree of importance, therefore, now began to be attached to the legal character than it had ever yet enjoyed ; and from this era, the civilians of England are seen endowed with a rank and influence which rendered them one of the most powerful classes in the state. Of those who flourished with Sir Thomas Lyttleton, some appear to have taken a much deeper share in the political struggles of the times than himself. This was especially the case with Sir John Fortescue, of whom we now subjoin a brief notice. 0iv Soljn dfortrsfue* DIED CIRC. A. D. 1485. This eminent English lawyer was descended from an ancient De- I'onshire family, and third son of Henry Fortescue, lord-chief-justice of Ireland. The time and place of his birth is matter of uncertainty. He is supposed to have been educated at Oxford, and to have studied law in Lincoln's inn. In 1430 he was made sergeant-at-law, and in 1441 was appointed king's sergeant. From this latter period preferments were showered upon him. The next year he was appointed chief-jus- tice of the king's bench, with a special annuity from the prisy purse for the better maintenance of his rank and station. He remained in great favour with Henry VI., and served him faithfully in all his trou- bles. In 1463 he accompanied Queen Margaret and Prince Edward into Lorrain, where he helped to alleviate the bitterness of their exile by his counsels and presence, and drew up for the instruction of the young prince his celebrated treatise, ' De laudibus legum Anglian,' in which he endeavours to impress his pupil with the just idea, that the constitution of England was a limited monarchy. In this work — which, though received with great applause by the jurists of the day, was not published till the reign of Henry VIII. — Sir John styles hiiu self ' Cancellarius Anglire,' but as his name does not appear in tiie patent rolls, it is probable, as Selden suggests, that he received this dignity from the fugitive monarch during his exile in Scotland. Re-* turning to England with the queen. Sir John was taken prisoner at I. 3 c 386 POLITICAL SERIES. [Thikd the defeat of her party at Tewksbury, and, though Edward IV. made rather a cruel use of his victory, yet he not only spared the life of our venerable jurist, but even, soon afterwards, received him into favour. Softened by this kindness, and probably regarding the hopes of the Lancastrian party as now for ever annihilated, Sir John not only be- gan to acknowledge Edward's title to the crown, but wrote in defence of it. It does not appear, however, that he ever departed from his ori- ginal views of the English constitution as a limited monarchy. Some of his manuscripts are still preserved in public libraries. They bear the following titles : * Defensio juris domus Lancastriae,' ' Genealogy of the House of Lancaster,' ' Of the title of the House of York,' ' Gene- alogiae Regum Scotiae,' ' A Dialogue between Understanding and Faith.* He appears to have withdrawn into the country some years before his death, which is supposed to have occurred at Ebburton in Gloucestershire, in the church of which parish his remains were in- Jerred. His editor, Fortescue Aland, has said of him, that " all good men and lovers of the English constitution speak of him with honour, and that he still lives, in the opinion of all true Englislimen, in as high esteem and reputation as any judge that ever sat in Westminster hall." From the accounts generally given of this eminent lawyer, he may, in- deed, be regarded as deserving, like Lyttleton, the gratitude of posterity for having greatly contributed to promote the fair interpretation and proper administration of the fundamental laws of the realm, but doubts have been expressed as to the propriety or honesty of his political conduct. It has been asked, how, as the chief minister of Henry VI., he could favour the cruel persecution of the duke of Gloucester ? Or how, as an upright man, he could write in defence, which it appears he did, first of one and then of another of the rival houses ? The cha- racter of Sir Thomas Lyttleton, on the other hand, is left unstained by suspicions of this nature, and from the praise accorded him for the practice of all the virtues of domestic and social life, as well as for his learning and ability, he may be considered as meriting in every way the reverence of posterity. BORN A. D. 1 HO DIED A. D. 1482. Edward had now two important points in his favour, — the posses- sion of the capital, and a title conferred according to the usual consti- tutional forms. He was, however, sovereign of only half his kingdom : if the southern and middle counties acknowledged his dominion, the northern provinces were warm in the Lancastrian cause. Notwith- standing the dissolute and voluptuous habits which had at an early period been permitted to obtain tlie mastery, Edward's was a character of singular energy and self-possession when under the impulse of a stirring motive, and he was fully aware that, in the present instance, nothing short of instant and decided effort was adequate to the crisis. Three days after his accession, his advanced guard, under the orders of the earl of Clifford, quitted London for the north; in five days more, he followed in person with the remainder of his army ; and at l"*'-:"!""] EDWAIII) IV. 387 fonlefract, he passed in review nearly forty-nine thousand soidlers. Mar^rari't's force was larger; her general, the duke of Somerset, was at the liead of sixty thousand men, encamped near York. After some previous lighting, in which Cliftbrd was killed, the main armies met, and th(> fi(>l(l of Towton was the scene of a bloodier fight than the civil broils of England had yet witnessed. No quarter was given on either side. The battle began in the evening, and was maintained with un- tiring rancour througli the night until noon of the following dav, when Edward, having been compelled by the superior numbers of the'enemy, to bring up all his reserves, was niaking his last efforts, but, at the critical period of nearly entire exhaustion on both sides, the duke of Norfolk brought up a reinforcement, which decided the victory against the queen's army.' The slaughter was terrible: the retreat of the Lancastrians was intercepted by a river, and the pursuit of the York ists was unrelenting. The number of those who fell varies, in the dif- ferent estimates, from 30,000 to 40,000. Henry and his queen, with the dukes of Somerset and Exeter, fled to Scotland. After some farther movements in prosecution of his victory, Edward returned to London, leaving Lord Montague to watch the Lancas- trians. This general raised the siege of Carlisle, beleagured by the Scots, whose alliance Margaret had purchased by the surrender of Berwick. On the 29th of June, Edward was crowned at Westminster, and met his parliament as the acknowledged king of England. The session was distinguished by nothing so much as by the number of bills of attainder which were passed, involving all the more distin- guished adherents to the house of Lancaster in one common ruin. Margaret, however, was still active, and with an army of French and' Scottish auxiliaries gave employment in the north to Edward's gene- rals, and called Edward himself once more to the scene of action, where, however, his stay was brief. It was during this season of peril- ous enterprise that the thousand-times-told adventure of the forest ban- dit is said to have happened to Margaret and her son. In 1464, the Lancastrians hazarded a more decided effort, but their array was bro- ken up by the activity of Nevil, Earl Montague, who routed Percy at Hedgeley Moor, and the duke of Somerset at Hexham. Both leaders were slain, — the first on the field, Somerset on the scaffold. Henry himself, after evading, during more than a year, all att-empts to discover his concealment, was betrayed by a monk, and, in July, 1465, became the prisoner of Edward. The king had now leisure for measures of general policy, and negotiated treaties of amity with nearly all the leading European sovereigns. His chief advisers, in all matters of state, appear to have been the brothers of the family of Nevil, the earls ot Warwick and Montague, the last in particular was his especial fa- vourite. It has, however, seldom occurred, that such a connexion as that between Edward and the Nevils, has been lasting, and the present case affords no exception to the general rule. Edward's marriage may probably be taken as the remote cause of the breaking up of a union apparently so strong in the mutual attachment and counnon interest of the parties. It was the king's misfortune to be conspicuously endowed uith exterior graces ; and these gave him, in his intercourse with ' Heariie'.-, Knigiiient as cited bv Turner. 388 POLITICAL SERIES. [Tiwrd females, advantages which he abused, until he became wholly possessed by a spirit of reckless libertinism : his appetites were his masters, an;l the grosser sensualities of the table were added to what are usually deemed more refined gratifications of sense. The chase alone relieved, by intervals of manly exercise and exertion, the course of debauchery in which he was now wasting his fine constitution, embruting his moral faculties, and debilitating his powerful mind. Thus given over to habits of self-indulgence, it was his chance to encounter a lovely and fascinating woman, the widow of a Lancastrian officer, who had fallen in civil broil. His passions were kindled, but the lady — whether from virtuous or from interested motives may well be doubted — rejected every licentious proposal, and at length the amorous king made her his wife; an act which gave great and just offence to Warwick, who had been urging a marriage of policj''. The doubt suggested in the previous sentence, is not unadvisedly offered, for the conduct of the queen and her family was marked by a spirit of ambition and rapacity rarely equalled in the records of favouritism. A prudent affectation of hu- mility and disinterestedness might have done much towards soothing disappointment and pacifying discontent ; but even decency was dis- regarded in the exultation of unanticipated advancement. A large and hungry family clamoured for the good things in the gift of their powerfu' relative, and the gratified voluptuary was neither slow nor niggard in his benefactions. Tlie five sisters of Elizabeth Wydevile were made — probably more in constraint than in liking on the part of the bride- groom — the wives of so many wealthy and powerful young noblemen ; her brothers caught titled heiresses in the scramble, and the younger was fortunate enough to capture a dowager ducliess, rich and eighty. Lord Mountjoy was displaced from the treasurership of England, in favour of the queen's father ; and the staff of lord-high-constable, wrested from the grasp of the earl of Worcester, was consigned to the same ready hand. This ' fell swoop,' in the way of monopoly, struck despair to the hearts of the needy and expectant, who always throng a court, and, had it done no more than this, little harm had been wrought; but there were others who looked on with a loftier and more menacing displeasure — the men whose abilities entitled them to a share in the administration of the realm, and whose station gave them a vantage ground for the attainmeijt of the objects of their legitimate ambition. Edward, in his doting favouritism, even ventured to lay hand upon that from which gratitude, no less than policy, should have taught him to abstain. The younger brother of the Nevils had been made archbishop ot York, and from him, on some ground of jealousy against himself and his brothers, the king resumed two manors of which the prelate wa:3 the grantee. Various circumstances occurred to widen the breach between Edward and the earl of Warwick, whose daughter had lately been married, much to the king's annoyance, to George, duke of Clarence, the second of the three royal brothers. The administration of the Wydeviles seems to have been, from whatever cause, unpopular, and insurrections broke out, in which the father and brother of the queen were seized and put to death. Without taking an ostensible share in these tumults, Warwick reaped their full advantage ; and the result of all this folly, misgovernment, and treason was, that the king became, in 1469, the prisoner of the earl. Considerable obscurity rests Piiiiioi..] EDWARD IV. 389 upon those events, and much secret history requires to be brought to lij^ht, l)(!fore thoy can bo adoquately ox])lainecl. Although it nowhere aj)pears that tho insurroctioiis in question wore directly instigated by Warwick, yet tlioy happened most opportunely for his interests; he was ready to turn th(>m to his own ends ; and at ids orders the rebels retiinKMl quietly to their homes. Ho was not, however, acting in be- half of the house of Lancaster, since he put down, with the utmost promptitude and rigour, in the name of Edward, an attempt in its favour, made by its partizans in the north. It appears probable that Warwick had overrated his own influence, and that he found, in the disposal of a prisoner like Edward, a problem too difficult for his solu- tion. ' The king's name ' was 'a tower of strength' only in the king's cause ; and though the upstart and overweening favourites had made themselves odious to the people, Edward himself was a popular monarch, and his subjects were by no means inclined to throw him aside at the mere mandate of Warwick. Be all this as it may, the earl found him- self compelled to release his thrall, and a reconciliation, apparently cordial, took place. This was toward the close of 1469, yet, early in the following year, Edward was saved from a fresh and probably fatal imprisonment, only by intelligence whispered in his ear, by his own presence of mind, and by the swiftness of his horse. Clarence and Warwick now acted in open rebellion, but so rapid and well-directed were the movements of the king, that they were counteracted in every effort, and compelled at last to quit the country, and seek safety in France. Here the turbulent earl, much to the dissatisfaction of Cla- rence, negotiated under the auspices of the French king, with Margaret. His daughter was accepted as the bride of the heir of Lancaster, and active preparations were made for the invasion of England. Edward, m the mean time, was indemnifying himself for his late anxieties and exertions, by a total neglect of business, and an entire surrender of all his faculties to enervating pleasure. In this state, he was surprised by the landing of Warwick, who moved on with such celerity, as to leave the king, abandoned by his troops, and betrayed by Montague, who had hitherto professed friendship, no resource but flight. After encoun- tering much danger in his brief voyage, he landed in Holland, October, 1470: the queen took sanctuary in Westminster. Warwick, 'the king-maker,' was now at the height of his success : he entered London 'n triumph, released Henry from the Tower, and proceeded, in the usual course, to reverse attainders, and reward his friends with the spoils of his enemies. To his honour be it mentioned, that, although the war of the Roses had been marked by a fearful system of san- guinary reprisal, excepting in one righteous instance, he shed no blood. But Edward's character, sunk and degraded while prosperity smiled upon him, was of intense energy and strength when roused b}'^ adverse circumstances. In this crisis of his fortunes, he acted on the boldest construction of the antique monition — contra audentior ito. Obtaining from his ally, the duke of Burgundy, the means of raising and trans- porting troops, he sailed for England, entered the Humber, and landed at Ravenspur, March 14, 1471, with about 2000 determined men; his brother, the duke of Gloucester, w;is with him. No one joined him, but hU resolution was taken, and he moved boldly on 390 POLITICAL SERIES, [Third York, giving out everywhere that he was come solely to claim his father's inheritance, as duke of York ; a pretext which probably availed him much, by furnishing the timid or neutral with a pretext for non- mterference. From York he marched to Doncaster, passing, on his route, near Pomfret, where lay Lord Montague, at the head of a force which Dr Lingard, without any qualification, affirms to have been " sufficient to overwhelm the invaders," This, however, is utterly improbable : the brother of Warwick was an able and enterprising commander, nor can there be any question of his fidelity to the cause he had now embraced. It is quite clear that he only abstained from fighting because his soldiers were unequal, either in numbers or quality, to the hazards of a conflict with a band so determined and so resolutely led, as that which defiled within four miles of his castle walls. At Not- tingham, he was joined by six hundred men ; at Newark, the duke of Exeter and 4000 men fled before him, without striking a blow ; at Leicester his little army had increased to upwards of 6000 good soldiers, and he marched at once on Coventry, where Warwick had sheltered himself behind the strong fortifications of the place. Edward here challenged the ' king-maker ' to personal conflict, and on the earl's refusal, took possession of the town of Warwick, where he was joined by his brother Clarence. He was now at the head of an effective force, and, resuming the royal title, he pushed forward for the capital, which he entered on the 11th of April. Warwick and Montague had by this time formed a junction, and were following him on the road to London, when the king drove in their advance at Barnet, in the neighbourhood of which town the battle was fought, April 14, 1471. There appears to be little doubt of the Lancastrian superiority in point of numbers; but this disadvantage was more than compensated by the conduct and brilliant valour of Edward. His left wing was outflanked, and, not- withstanding the gallant efforts of Lord Hastings, driven from the field ; but this disaster was more than retrieved by the king's fierce and de- cisive charge on the Lancastrian centre under Somerset, and by the success of the right wing of the Yorkists, commanded by the duke of Gloucester, who succeeded in turning the enemies' left, though the great earl himself was there. Both the Nevils fell, and this, the death of Warwick especially, was of higher importance than the mere victory could by any possibility have been. The ' king-maker' bore a charmed name, that, in common belief, secured success to whatever cause he might undertake. Edward's work, however, was not yet done : on the precise day of the battle of Barnet, Margaret landed at Weymouth, and was joined by her partisans, including the duke of Somerset, and the other leaders who had escaped from the rout at Barnet. A powerful army was collected, and it became a matter of question whether it were wiser to make for the northern counties, where the house of Lancaster had a powerful interest, or to move at once for London, In either case it was necessary to evade the vigilance of Edward, who was placed in the difficult situation of making his anxiety to come to immediate action subordinate to the necessity for watching the two roads to the north and to the capital. He manoeuvered with uncommon skill, and, by two or three forced marches, compelled his enemies to make a final stand at Tewkesbury, on the 4th of May. Their position was ex- ceedingly strong, but Edward ordered an immediate attack, anil, after a severe conflict, which the ability and bravery of Somerset, the Lan- castrian comiimndor, ren(h(re(i for some time doubtful, obtained a splendid victory. Many of tiie leaders of tlie defeatcjd party took sanctuary, and the king at first pronused to spare their lives, but after- ward ordered their place of refuge to be forced, and this act of violen(;e was speedily followed by their public execution. A yet darker deed has been charged upon his memory ; it is asserted by the greater mimber of historians, that when the Iw.'ir of Lancaster, a tine youth of seventeen, the only son of Henry and Margaret, was brought prisoner to the tent of Edward, and to a taunting question made a spirited reply, tlicsavace victor struck him on the face with his gauntleted hand, a signal too well understood by Clarence and Gloucester, who completed, with their swords, the murderous transaction. There are, however, other autho- rities which speak of the prince's death as occurring in the field. Henry did not long survive his son ; on the 22d of May, he died in the Tower, and general belief has fixed the guilt of his death on the duke of Gloucester ; but independently of this common credence, there does not appear sufficient evidence for the imputation, while there are strong reasons for acquitting him of a crime unprofitable to himself, and tending only to strengthen the cause of those who stood between him and the throne. If Henry were murdered, his fate was, no doubt, hastened by the vigorous efforts of Lord Falconbridge, in behalf of the fallen party, and which were at one moment formidable enough to call Edward abruptly from the scene of his triumphs at Tewkesbury. Margaret of Aujou was made a prisoner, and, after a lapse of five years, obtained her release, on payment of a ransom : she died in 1482. Wretched, indeed, must have been the remaining years of that proud and unrelenting princess. The blood of her brave and loyal nobles had been poured out like water in her cause ; her husband and her son had perished in the sanguinary struggle ; and, with all this, she must have felt that, in her savage treatment of the duke of York, she had but taught " bloody instructions, which, being taught, returned to plague the inventor." Edward was now seated firmly on his throne, but his greatness was in the hour of action, not in the season of repose. He commenced a war with France ; but his ministers were bribed by Louis XL, and he suffered himself to be persuaded into a pacific course. But a darker cloud was hovering over him ; the domestic curse which filled his fa- mily with feuds and murders, began its deadly work, and its first dire impulse was the shedding of a brother's blood. The duke of Clarence appears to have been weak, selfish, and ambitious. During the life oi Warwick, he suffered himself to be made the mere tool of that aspiring noble, and afiter Edward's restoration, he quarrelled with the duke oi Gloucester on pecuniary matters. In this variance, which was never made up, he was decidedly in the wrong ; in the affair which led to his destruction the blame lay with the kmg. Clarence was highly popu- lar, and this was enough to keep alive a spirit of jealousy in his brother, who became suspicious of his intentions, and when a fair chance pre- sented itself to the duke of obtaining the hand of the heiress of Bur- gundy, interfered to prevent it, instigated, probably in part by the queen, who was anxious to procure so advantageous a match for her brother, 392 POLITICAL SERIES. [Third Lord Rivers.' Farther dissensions, and, it may be, domestic intrigue, led to a fatal catastrophe ; Clarence was condemned by the house of peers, and put to death in the tower, February 17th, 1478. Reckless and hard of heart as Edward had become, he was constrained to feel that, Cain-like, he had slain his brother : from that time he became more and more irritable, and frequently lamented that no one had been found to intercede for the life of Clarence. His own death was at no g^reat distance. In the midst of active preparations for the invasion of France, he was seized with a malady which terminated his life, April 9, 1482. Such were the leading events which distinguished the career of this man of bdlliant, though pe-rverted faculties. His eminent mental and personal endowments he degraded into the mere auxiliaries and incite- ments to sensual gratification, and his popular manners were but the specious covering to a vindictive and despotic teni-per. His parliament knew that he was not to be trifled with ; and during the latter years oi his reign he established a system of police which placed the entire realm under a jealous and severe inspection. Yet, amid these unfavourable circumstances, the nation advanced in all that constitutes national pros- perity. It may be questionable whether this were owing to a judicious administration of the powers of government, or to the energy and ac- tivity of the native character ; but the fact is certain. BORN A. D. 1470 DIED A. D. 1483. l^Ess than three months included the entire term between the acces- sion and deposition of this young prince, and with little more than this brief notice the history of his nominal reign might be dismissed, were it not for the convenience of making this the place for a general exhibi- tion of the state of parties and circumstances at this eventful season. The queen and her family had, as has been already intimated, availed them- selves of their situation to accumulate among themselves and their friends the chief offices of influence and profit; and he late king, in the contem- plation of his approaching death, made all his dispositions with a vu^.w to the confirmation of their authority. Their friends, however, seem not to have been numerous, and the more powerful of the nobility, offended probably by the rise and rapacity of an inferior family, were hostile to their claims, nor did they adopt a course of policy either wise or vigorous enough to meet the urgency of the crisis. The proposal to surround the young king with an efficient body of troops was over- ruled. The queen's brother. Lord Rivers, sufiered himself to be cir- cumvented and arrested by the dukes of Gloucester and Buckingham, without means of resistance, or chance of escape. Respecting the views of such other of the nobles as were active in political affairs, it is not easy to speak with decision. Lord Hastings had been the per- RO!ial friend of Edward IV., and was now, as it should seem, faithful to the cause of liis son ; but he v/as the determined enemy of the queen's > HalL Pkuioi).] RTCHAKD, duke OF YORK. 393 family, and gave his effective assistance to the scheme for their destruc- tion. In this state of things, the ))rospect of civil commotion became hourly more threatening, and nothing j)rcventc(l its immediate out- break but the bold, rapid, and unscrupulous conduct of the duke of Gloucester. That prince was, ^vhen his brother died, in the north, and on hearing the news, caused his nephew to be proclaimed. He then set otf innuediatcly for the capital, and on his road became master of the royal person, maintaining the most respectful demeanour, and pro- fessing the most devoted loyalty. In London, the council of state met at the tower, where the young king resided, but a more subtle and more powerful divan held its consultations at Crosby house, the resi- dence of Gloucester, who had been appointed protector. The work of usurpation was hurried fiercely on, nor were even the forms of jus- tice observed in its bloody transactions. Lord Hastings was beheaded without a trial, on the 10th of January, 1483, and as little ceremony vas used in the execution of Earl Rivers, Lord Grey, and Sir Thomas \ aughan. Tlie next step was to gain possession of the queen's young- er son, the duke of York, and these preliminary outrages having re- moved all present diiHculties, after a little manoeuvering.j the mask was thrown aside, and the duke of Gloucester assumed the title and the state of royalty. His accession bears date, June 2Gth, 1483. noiJN A. u. 1410. — DiiiD a1 I). 14r)(). I5y the death of Edmund, earl of March, the hereditary pretensions of the house of Clarence became vested in Richard Plantagenet, duke of York, the son ot' Anne Mortimer. Richard, however, was only fourteen years of age at this time, and, therefore, did not excite any serious apprehensions on the part of Heniy VI., then filling the throne of England. During the contentions which ended in Gloucester's death, the duke was engaged in foreign service in France ; but, on the demise of that nobleman, he was called upon to relinquish his post in Normandy, in favour of the duke of Somerset. This invidious preference provoked the indignation of York, who shortly afterwards impeached the duke of Somerset for the loss of Normandy and Aquitaine. It was, however, fortunate for York, that Somerset should have thus superseded him, for he was thereby saved encountering that shame and obloquy which the inevitable surrender of the possessions of Eng- land in France drew down u])on his successor. His appointment to the government of Ireland failed to satisfy his ambition, or allay his discontent; and, in 1452, he quitted that country without the permis- sion or recall of the king, and proceeded to his castle in Wales, whence lie set out for London with a retinue of 4000 men. Arriving at West- minster, he obtained an audience from Henry. His conduct in this interview is differently re})resented by different writers. In the pre- amble to his subsequent attainder, it is stated that he introduced armed men into the presence-chamber, and that he retired covered with con- fusion at the king's rebuke ; but, in the Paston letters, we find the fol- lowing passage, which sets his behaviour in a more favourable li[jht : — T. 3d 394 POLITICAL SERIES. [Tiiiku " It is said that my lord of York has been with the king, and departed in right good conceit with the king, but not in great conceit with the queen." ' Margaret is supposed to have boldly charged the duke with treasonable practices, and to have urged his instant committal to the tower ; but it is certain that the duke prevailed upon Henry to sum- mon a parliament, and in the interim he retired to his castle oi" Foth- eringay. He was scarcely gone, when Somerset arrived from France ; but he had lost the confidence of the people by his loss of Normandy, and York's party hesitated not to impeach him. Early on the sitting of parliament. Young, one of the membei's for Bristol, after insisting on the necessit}'- of naming the heir apparent, the king being yet with- out issue, boldly moved that the duke of York should be declared heir ; but the suggestion was ill received, and Young was sent to the tower to expiate his boldness in confinement. After a prorogation of six weeks, the two houses met again, and York openly accused Somerset of misconduct and corruption in managing the affairs of France ; but the queen's infiuence upheld the favourite, and York, after having nar rowly escaped assassination, withdrew in sullen discontent to his castle at Ludlow. He now summoned the tenants of the house of Mortimer to his standard, and marched upon London, but finding the gates shut against him, turned towards Dartford, where he entrenched himself upon a heath, and fortified his camp with artillery. The king closely following his opponent's route, drew up his forces at Blackheath, and despatched a deputation to inquire the cause of his kinsman's hostile appearance. York made the usual protestation of loyalty, but declared that he had been driven to take up arms, in consequence of the re- oeated attempts vvhicJi had been made to indict him of treason, and for the security of himself and the people at large against the wicked de- signs of these malevolent men who now shared the king's councils. He pointed to the duke of Somerset, by name, as the chief cause of his own and the nation's grievances, and demanded that he should be forthwith put upon his trial. It was deemed prudent by the king's friends to affect the appearance at least of concession to these de- mands. The king assured him that he still held him to be a true and faithful subject, and his own well-beloved cousin, and likewise assured him that a new council should be immediately appointed, of which he should form a member, and which should decide all matters now in dispute or debate. For his more thorough satisfaction and assurance, the duke of Somerset was reported to be in custody by the king's com- mand. Satisfied with these concessions and promises, York instantly disbanded his army, and repaired alone and uncovered to Henry's tent, where, to his surprise and consternation, he was confronted by Somer- set, who appeared at perfect liberty, and as high as ever in the king's favour. The two rivals fiercely retorted the charge of treason upon each other. Somerset accused York of designs upon the crown, and called upon tlie king to arrest him as a traitor. York replied with equal spirit ; but on quitting the royal tent, found himself a prisoner. Somerset would have liad his rival led forth to instant execution ; but the mild genius of Henry prevailed, and he contented himself with ex- acting a solemn and public oath of fealty and allegiance from the duke ■" Feiui's Culkctiwi, vol. i. I'ehiod.J RICHARD, DUKE OF YORK. 395 Tlie birtli of Edward lowerod the hopes of the Yorkists; but we have seen that the indisposition into wiiicii Henry soon afterwards sunk, rendered tiie reeall oftlie (hike of York into tlie cabinet a measure of n(!cessity, and gave him, for the time, a complete ascendency over his rival, wlio was conmiitted to the tower. On tliis occasion York protested " that lie dill not assume the title or authority of prote(!tor, but was chosen by the parliament of themselves, and of their own free and mere dis- position ; and that he siiould be ready to resume his obedience to the king's commands, as soon as it was notified and declared unto him by the parliament, that Henry was restored to his health of body and mind." By his marriage with the lady Cicely Neville, the duke gained the powerful supj)ort of her brothers, the earls of Salisbury and Warwick. These potent barons were easily induced to second their relative; in his struggle for political ascendency after Henry's recovery. " It was during this period," says Sir James Mackintosh, " that the whole people seem gradually to have arrayed themselves as Yorkists or Lancastrians. The rancour of parties was exasperated by confinement to narrow cir- cles and petty districts. Feuds began to become hereditary, and the heirs of the lords slaughtered at St Albans, regarded the pursuit of re- venge as essential to the honour of their families, and as a pious office due to the memory of their ancestors." The king, in the midst of these distractions, laboured assiduously, but in vain, to calm the angry pas- sions of his nobles, and establish unanimity in the national councils. The pageant of a public reconciliation was enacted, but the stratagems of the queen again excited the distrust of the Yorkists, and the duke returned in disgust to his castle of Wigmore, the ancient seat of the Mortimers. Salisbury went to Middleham in Y'orkshire, and Warwick to his government of Calais.* " But," says old Hale, " although the bodies of these noble persons were thus separated asunder by artifice, yet their hearts were united and coupled in one." They planned a junction, the result of which, as we have elsewhere detailed, once more threw the government into their hands. A parliament which assem- bled at Westminster, after the battle of Northampton, annulled all the recent proceedings which had been levelled against the Yorkists ; and a few days afterwards, Richard, duke of York, having returned from Ireland, whither he had fled after his defeat at Ludlow, entered Lon- don, and riding to Westminster, presented himself in the upper house, in an attitude, and under circumstances which unequivocally indicated the views and wishes by which he was now animated. Stepping for- ward to the royal throne, he laid his hand upon the cloth of state, and stood ibr a short time in that attitude, as if waiting tor an invitation to place himself on it. But every voice was silent, tiie nobles stood mute, and neither by word nor sign manifested the slightest token o approbation. The duke, thereupon, somewhat disconcerted, withdrew his hand, and this movement was instantly applauded by the circle around him. The archbishop of Canterbury taking courage from tliese indications of right feeling on the part of the spectators, boldly in- quired, wheth.^r he would not wait upon the king, who was now in the ' " Then," says Coinines, '' eoiiNidcied .is the most advantageous apf ointment at the disposal of any C'liristian prince, and that wliicii ulaetKl the. most considerable force Ht tlie disposal ot'lhe governor.'' queen's apartment ? To this question he indignantly replied, " I know no one in this realm who ought not rather to visit me." He then hastily withdrew, and took up his abode in that part of the palace which had been usually reserved for the accommodation of the king himself. Even the duke's party were not prepared for such a step as this ; but Richard felt that he had now committed himself, and took his resolution accord- ingly. On the 16th of October, 1460, his counsel delivered to the bishop of Exeter, the new chancellor, a writing, containing a statement of his claims to the crowns of England and France, with thfe lordship of Ireland. In this writing, having first derived his descent from Henry III., by Lionel, duke of Clarence, third son to Edward HI., he observ« ed, that on the resignation of Richard II., Henry, earl of Derby, the son of John of Ghent, the younger brother of the said Lionel, against all manner of right, entered on the crowns of England and France, and the lordship of Ireland, which by law belonged to Roger Mortimer, earl of March, great-grandson to the said Sir Lionel : wlience he con- cluded, that of right, law, and custom, the said crown and lordship now belonged to himself, as the lineal representative of Roger Mortimer, in preference to any one who could claim only as the descendant of Henry, earl of Derby.* We have already related in what spirit Henry received the first communication of York's pretensions ; he concluded his address to the lords who waited upon him on this occasion, by com- manding them " to search for to find in as much as in them was, all such things as might be objected and laid against the claim and title of the said duke." The lords devolved this duty upon the judges, who excused themselves from entering upon so delicate and dangerous a task, by observing that their office was not to be of counsel between party and party, but to apply the laws of the realm to such matters as came before them ; that the present question was above law, and appertained not unto them, and that only the lords of the king's blood, and the high court of parliament, could decide it. The king's Serjeants and attorney were then called upon for an opinion ; and thej-^ also presented their excuses, alleging, tliat since the matter was so high, that it passed the learning of the judges, it must needs exceed their learning. But the apology was not received ; the lords found that these officers were bound to give advice to the crown, and directed them as counsel for the king, to draw up an answer to Richard's claims. In the issue, the following objections — which we shall state in the words of Dr Lingard — were drawn up and sent to the duke : — " 1. That both he and the lords had sworn fealty to Heniy, and of course he, by his oath, was prevented from urging, they by theirs from admitting, his claim. 2. That many acts passed in divers parliaments of the king's progeni- tors, might be opposed to the pretensions of the house of Clarence, which acts have ' been of authority to defeat any manner of title.' 3. That several entails had been made of the crown to heirs male, whereas he claimed by descent from females. 4. That he did not beer the arms of Lionel the Third, but of Edmund the Fifth, son of Edward HI. And, 5. That Henry IV. had declared tliat he entered on the throne as the true heir of Henry III.' To the three first objections, the duke's counsel replied : — ' That as priority of descent was evidently in his " Ulackm. p. a75. Pkuioi).] RICHARD, DUICIC OF YOKIv. 397 favour, it followed that the riglit to the crown was his, which right could not be defeated by oatlis or acts of parliament, or entails. In- deetl, the only entail made to the exclusion of females, was that of the seventh year of Henry IV., and would never have been thought of, hail that prince claimed under the customary law of descents. That the reason why he had not hitherto taken the arms of Lionel, was the same as had prevented him from claiming the crown, the danger to which such a proceeding would have exposed him. And, lastly, that if Henry IV. pronounced himself the rightful heir of Henry III., he asserted what he knew to be untrue. As, however, the principal reli ance of his adversaries was on the oaths which he had taken, and whicli it was contended were to be considered as a surnmder of his right by his own act, he contended that no oath contrary to truth and justice is binding. That the virtue of an oath is to confirm truth, and not to impugn it ; and that as the obligation of oaths is a subject for the deter- mination of the spiritual tribunals, he was willing to answer in any such court all manner of men, who had any thing to propose against him." The lords resolved that the title of the duke of York could not be defeated ; but proposed a compromise by which Henry acknow- ledged York as heir-apparent, notwithstanding the existence of the in- fant prince of Wales. On the adjustment of this important affair, the king and the duke went in state to St Paul's, to make their thanks- givings. But the spirit of Margaret was not so easily subdued as that of her husband. Instead of obeying the order which York procured, requiring her instant presence in London, that warlike dame hastened to join Northumberland and Clilibrd in the north. The duke of Som- erset and the earl of Devon marched to her standard ; and the coalition thus formed assembled a most formidable foree at York. On receiving intelligence of these proceedings, York hastened, witli a small body of men, to Sandal castle, near Wakefield, leavi-ng his son and heir, the earl of March, to follow more at leisure with fresh supplies. Here his best advisers wished him to remain until the arrival of the expected reinforcement, but in opposition to such wise counsel he rashly deter- mined to hazard a battle. It is said by some authors that the bitter taunts of the enemy provoked him to this rash step ; but others with more probability suggest that Richard found himself driven to the neces- sity of risking an engagement by want of provisions ; whatever it was that dictated the line of conduct which he now pursued, he seems to have forgotten that precaution which had hitherto been one of his char- acteristics, and to have rushed headlong and blindfold on certain de- struction. On the last day of the year 1460, he drew out his troops on Wakefield common, and was instantly hemmed in on all sides by the greatly superior force of the enemy. A horrid scene of carnage ensued. The Yorkists fought with the fury of despair ; but their des- perate and unyielding courage availed them not. Within half an hour of the onset, nearly 3000 of York's followers lay dead on the field, while their leader himself and Salisbury, covered with wounds, had fall- en into the hands of their assailants. Salisbury was decapitated tlie next day at Pontefract. Authors differ respecting the fate of York, Whethamstede affirms that he was takeji alive, and his dying moments embittered by the brutal derision of his enemies, who, placing hira upon an ant-hill for a throne, with a crown of grass round his temples, 398 POLITICAL SERIES. [Thirp hailed him, — 'King without a kingdom I prince without a people!'* Others affirm that lie was killed in the fight, but add that his inanimate remains were treated with the most brutal indignity ; that Clifford bore his reeking head upon a pole into the presence of the queen, exclaim- mg, — " Madam, your war is done; here is the ransom of your king I" and that the unfeeling woman laughed aloud at the fearful spectacle, and ordered her brutal ally to attach the bloody head to one of the gates of the city of York.* In the pursuit, Clitford overtook Richard's voungest son, the earl of Rutland, a boy in his twelfth year. His tutor, a venerable priest, was hastening with him from the field of conflict towards Wakefield, in hopes of finding shelter for his young charge in that town. They were stopped on the bridge, and Cliftbrd, attracted by the rich garments of the boy, asked ''Who is he?" Unable to speak through terror, the poor boy fell on his knees, and began to implore mercy; and his faithful preceptor, thinking to save him, exclaimed, — ■ " He is the son of a prince, and may, peradventure, do you good here- after I" " The son of York !" shouted the bloody Clifibrd. " Then as thy father slew mine, so will I slay thee, and all thy kin !" And plung- ing his dagger into the heart of the young prince, he bade the tutor hf^ar the tidings of what he had seen to the boy's mother. i^iyytn CuUor. DIED A. D. 1461. I Queen Catherine, widow of Henry V., soon after the death of her gallant and accomplished husband, bestowed her hand upon Sir Owen Tudor, a siniple Welsh knight, whose graceful manners and great personal beauty had captivated the fair and royal matron. Sandford bears witness to the good taste at least which Catherine displayed in the selection of this husband ; for he tells us that Sir Owen was so " abso- lute in all the lineaments of his body, that the only contemplation of it might make a queen forget all other circumstances." Catherine indeed seems to have forgotten, or disregarded many circumstances which should have deterred her from a union so much beneath her in dignity, and so likely to prove the forerunner of family discord. She was a Frenchwoman, however, and cared little for the objections which were urged against her gratifying her own feelings in the disposal of her hand a second time. When Tudor's kindred and country were objected to amongst other things, she expressed a desire to see some of his kins- men. " Whereupon," says Wynne, " he brought to her presence John Ap Meredith and Howell Ap Llewellyn Ap Howell, his neare cozens, men of goodly stature and personage, but wholly destitute of bringing up and nurture, for when the queen had spoken to them in divers lan- guages, and they were not able to answer her, she said that they were ' the goodliest dumbe creatures that ever she saw.' " Three sons were the fruit of this union. The two elder, Edmund and Jasper, were cre- ated earls of Richmond and Pembroke by their half-brother, " with pre-tminence," says Fuller, " to take place above all earls, for kings ♦ Whut 4^10, " Hall. Period.] TIPTOFP, EARL OF WORCESTER. 399 have absolnte authority in disppiising honours." The youngt-r entered into a religious eonuuunity and died a monk. Upon the death of Catlierine — whieh Iiappened in 1437 — Tudor was committed to prison tor contempt of the royal prerogative, in manying a tenant of the crown without previously obtaining the royal license. The hardy Welshman soon made escape from his confinement, but was after- wards retaken and committed to the castle of Wallingford. Miss Ro- berts has given a passage from a manuscript chronicle in the Harleian library, which, as she observes, goes far to disprove the ostentatious account so industriously circulated by Henry VII. and his partizans, respecting the royal descent of that monarch's paternal ancestor. It runs thus : " This same year one Ovveyn, no man of birth neither of livelihood, broke out of Newgate against night, at searching time, tlirough help of his priest, and went his way, hurting foule his keeper. The which Oweyn had privily wedded the Queen Katlicrine, and had three or four children by her, unweeting the common people till that she was dead and buried." Sir Owen perished at last upon the scat- fold, having been taken prisoner by young Edward after the battle at Mortimer's cross, and instantly sacrificed to the revengeful feelings which then filled the conqueror's bosom. Ciptcft, (£Jarl of OTcrrcster, BOUN A. D. 1428. DIED A. D. 1470. John Tiptoft, earl of Worcester, one of the few literary ornaments of England in the 1 5th century, was born at Everton in Cambridge- shire, and educated at Baliol college, Oxford, where, as his contempo rary John Rous of Warwick informs us, he greatly distinguished him- self by his application to study and progress in the literature of the age. Ui)on the death of his father. Lord Tiptoft, in the twenty -first of Henry the Sixth's reign, he succeeded, while yet a minor, to the great estates of his family, and at the age of twenty-two was elevated to the earldom of Worcester. Three years later he was appointed lord-trea- surer of England, and in the twenty-seventh year of his age he was commissioned with some other noblemen to guard the channel, — a task which he performed with equal honour to himself and advantage to his country. Withdrawing himself for a time from public life, he visited the Holy land, and retunung by Italy, spent some time in Pa- dua, then the "great seat of learning for Europe, and graced by the presence of Ludovicus Carbo, Guarinus, and John Phrea, an English- man, all famous for their learning. On this occasion, Phrea dedicated two of his works to the noble and accomplished young Englishman, of whom, amongst other complimentary things, he says : " Those supe- rior beings whose office it is to be the guardians of our island of Bri- tain, knowing you to be a wise and good man, an enemy to faction, and a friend of peace, warned you to abandon a country which they had abandoned, that you might receive no stain from associating with impit)us and factious men."' This is quite in the style of the age; but ' Lelaiid, p. 477- 400 POLITICAL SERIES. [Thiri. the fact appears to have been, that Tiptoft long balanced in his own mind the comparative advantages of adherence to the rising or to tlie sinking party, and unable at the moment to decide, wisely resolved on withdrawing himself from the scene altogether, until the great national struggle had been decided. He continued at Padua for the space oi' three years, during the heat of the civil wars in his native country. Laurentius Carbo represents him as so exceedingly fond of books, that during his residence at Padua, he plundered, so to speak, the libraries of Italy to enrich those of England. On his return home, he pi'esented the literary spoils thus acquired to the university-library of Oxford. Before quitting Italy he visited Rome, and being introduced to Pope Pius II. addressed his holiness in a Latin oration, which drew tears of admiration from him. After it became known that Eilward was firmly seated on the throne of England, Tiptoft returned to England, and was received into favour with that prince, who loaded him with honours, and at last appointed him lord-lieutenant of Ireland and constable of England. But on the brief restoration of Henry, this accomplished nobleman was seized, condemned, and beheaded at the tower in 1470, on a charge of mal-administration in Ireland. " O good blessed Lord I" — exclaims Caxton, in allusion to his unhappy fate — " what grete losse was it of that noble, virtuous, and well-disposed lord, the earl of Wor- cester ! What worship had he at Rome in the presence of our holy father the pope, and in all other places unto his death I The axe then did at one blow cut off more learning than was in the heads of all the surviving nobility." The earl translated Cicero's treatises ' De Ami- citia,' and ' De Senectute,' which were printed by Caxton in 1481. Some other pieces of his still remain in manuscript, and several have been lost. BORN CIRC. A D. 14'4-2. DIED A. D. 1483. The accomplished Anthony Wydeville, Earl Rivers, was the son of Sir Richard Wydeville, by Jacqueline of Luxemburg, duchess-dow- ager of Bedford, who, like Queen Catherine, had not hesitated to be- stow her hand on the man she loved, though, in doing so, she outraged some just notions of propriety and dignity. The subject of our present sketch was born about the year 1442, and, while yet a youth, took an active part with his father in supporting the sinking interests of the Lancastrian family. When Denhani, by a bold and unexpected de- scent on Sandwich, had surprised Lord Rivers, wlio was engaged in fitting out an armament in that port, the young Rivers shared his fa- ther's captivity, and was carried with him to Calais, where he nobly endured the rude reproaches of Warwick and his coadjutors Salisbury and March. The marriage of Edward with Elizabeth, the sister of Anthony Wydeville, changed the politics as well as fortunes of the house of Rivers. Soon after his sister's marriage, Anthony obtained the hand of the orphan daughter of Lord Scales, and in addition to his wife's estates, succeeded also to her father's title. In 1467, in a solemn £Jid magnificent tournament held at Smithfield, probably in honour of the niarriaf^c of the kiiif»'s sister with Charles, duke of Bur<;^unily, An- thony twice overcame tlie Count dc. la Roche, and won for himself the highest reputation for skill and chivalric courtesy. Eijually distin- guished as a warrior and a statesman, — * vir haud facile discernas niaiiuve aut consilio promptior,' in the words of Sir Thomas More, — Lord Rivers was intrustctl with several imjjortant embassies at the courts of Scotland, Burgundy, and Bretagne ; and b(ung smitten with the desire to visit foreign countries, he employed his leisure in travel- ling through Spain and Italy. He made a pilgrimage to the altar or St James of Compostella, and purchased a large indulgence from the holy see for the chapel of our Lady of Pisa, near St Stephen's, West- minster. At the period of Edward the Fourth's decease, the youthful heir o*" his crown resided at Ludlow castle under the care of the earl of Rivers, and the queen proposoil that her son should be instantly escorted to the metropolis by his uncle, at the head of a large body of troops ; but the jealousy of Lord Hastings retarded this measure, and in the mean- time Gloucester appeared on the stage, and entered on that deep game which involved the Wydevilles as its earliest victims. Rivers has been censured for allowing the young king to pursue his route to Stoney- Stratford while he himself lingered behind in Northampton until Glou- cester arrived there. But it does not appear that the earl either medi- tated deserting the young prince, or suspected the treacherous designs of the duke: for the whole party, after having exchanged mutual assur- ances of friendship, sat down together to a festal banquet, after which Rivers retired to his lodgings without making an attempt to escape, and next morning he accompanied the duke to Stoney-Stratford, where they joined Edward and his train. Gloucester now threw off the mask, and suddenly accused Rivers and Gray of having attempted to misrepresent him to the king, his nephew; at the same time he caused the most confidential of the young king's servants to be laid under ar- rest, and ordered the rest of his retinue to disperse. Soon afterwards, the gallant Rivers was beheaded without form of trial. He perished in the forty-first year of his age. Walpole has justly said of him, that he was " as gallant as his luxurious brother-in-law, without his weak- nesses ; as brave as the heroes of either rose, without their savageness ; studious in the intervals of business, and devout after the manner oi those whimsical times, when men challenged others whom they never saw, and went barefoot to visit shrines in countries of which they had scarce a map." The literature of England is under deep obligations to this accom- plished nobleman, who greatly enriched it by original and felicitous poetry and translations from the classics and from French authors. Hume says that he first introduced the noble art of printing into Eng- land ; but this is evidently a mistake. He greatly patronised Caxton, however, and his ' Dictes and Sayinges of the Philosophers ' is sup- posed to have been the second work produced in England by that printer. This translation was executed by the earl during his seclu- sion at Ludlow, while super-ntending the education of the prince, his nephew. The preface is written in a fine spirit, and cannot foil to interest the general reader as well as the student of our early literature. " Whereas," says he, " it is so that, every humayn creature by the I. 3 E 402 POLITICAL SERIES. [Third sufFeraunce of our Lord God is born and ordeyned to be subject and thralled unto the storms of fortune, and so in divers and many sundry wayes man is perplexed with worldly adversities, of the which, I, An- toine Wydeville, Erie Ryuers, Lord Scales, &c. have largely and in many different manner, have had my parte, and of him releived by the infinite grace and goodness of our said Lord, through the means of the mediation of mercy, which grace evidently to know and understood hath compelled me to set aparte all ingratitude, and droofe (drove) me by reson and conscience as far as my wretchedness would suffice to give therefore singular lovynges and thankes, and exhorted me to dis- pose my recovered lyf to his service, in following his lawes and com- mandements, and in satisfaction and recompense of mine iniquities and fawtes before donn, to seke and execute the workes that might be most acceptable to hj'^m ; and as far as my frailness would suffer me, I rested in the wyll and purpose during the season I understood the Ju- bylee and pardon to be at the holy appostle Seynt James in Spain, which was the year of grace, a thousand cccclxxiii. Thenne I deter- mined me to take that voyage, and shipped from Southampton in the month of July in the said year, and so sayled from thence for a recre- acyon, and passing of time I had delight, and used to read some good historye, and among other there was that person in my company, a worshipful gentleman called Louis de Breteylles, which greatly de- lighted him in all virtuous and honest things, that sayd to me he had there a book that he trusted I should like right well, and broughte it to me, which book I had never seen before, and is called ' The Say- inges and Dictes of Philosophers,' and as I understand it was translat- yd out of Latin into French, by a worshipful! man called Messire Jehan de Teonville, Provost of Parys. When I had heeded and looked upon it as I had tyme and space, I gave thereto a very affection ; and in special because of the holsom and swete sayinges of the paynims which is a glorious fayre myrrour to all good Christian people to be- hold and understand ; ever that a greate comforte to every well-dis- posed soul ; it speaketh also universally to the example, weal, and doc- trine of all kynges, princes, and to people of every estate. It lauds virtue and science, it blames vice and ignorance ; and albeit as I could not at that season, no in all that pilgrimage time, have leisure to over- see it well at my pleasure, whilst for the dispositions that belongeth to a taker of jubylee and pardons, and also for the great acquaintance that I founde there of worshipful folkes, with whom it was fittinge that I should keepe good and honest company, yet nevertheless it rested still in the desirous favour of my minde, intending utterly to take these with greater acquaintance at some other convenient time, and so re- maining in that oppynyon after such season as it listed the king's grace to commaunde me to give my attendance upon my lord the prince, and that I was in his service ; when I had leisure I looked upon the said book, and at the last conclude in myself to translate it into the English tongue." The Earl Rivers also clothed the ' Morale Pro- verbes of Christine of Pisa' in an English dress. " In this transla- tion," says Walpole, " the earl discovered new talents, turning the work into a poem of two hundred and three lines, the greatest part of which he contrived to make conclude with the letter E, an instance at once of his lordship's application, and of the bad taste of an age which Pfriod.] WYDEVIIJ.E, EARL RIVERS. 403 ]ia(l witticisms and wliiius to struggle with as well as ignorance." Cax- ton, in enumerating tiie works of this nobleman, mentions a third translation from the French of ' The booke named Cordyale, or Me- niorare Novissime,' and ' over that divers balades against the seven dedely synnes.' But the most interesting of all the earl's productiona are the; stanzas which he composed in the prospect of his execution, when the harsh and unjust mandate of his oppressors was about to con- sign him to a dishonoured and premature grave. This ballad wa.s printed in the Hrst edition of this ill-tated nobleman's reliques from an imperfi'ct copy preserved by Rous, the defects of which were after- wards supplied by the Fairfax manuscripts in the Sloan ian collection We shall here insert it entire for the gratification of the reader, al- though, as an illustration of English literature, it belongs properly to the literary section of the period now under consideration. " Sumwhat inysjii?;e And more more nynge In remembrynge The unstydfastnesse. This world beyiige Of such whelyiige The c'oiitrayiiige What may I guess ? " 1 fear dowtles Remediles Is now, to sese My woeful chaunce For unkyndness Withoutenless ' And no redress Me doth avaunie.' " Wyth displeasaunc« To my grievaunce And no surance Of remedy. So in tJiis traur.ce Now in substaunce Such is my daunce Willing to die. " Methynkes truly Bound^n am I (And that gretly) To be constant. Seyng pie) nly That fortune doth wry ' All contrary From mine entent. " My lyff was lenr Me on «iitent, riytt is nigh spent Welcome fortune. But I ne'er went ' Thus to be shent' But so hytt meat Such is her wonne.* ' To speak plainly. • Urges on my fate. ■ Doth turn aside. * 1 n«v«;r tiiougliU ' Tlius to b«j cut oil". • His custom. 404 POLITICAL SERIES. [Tnmu DIED A. D. 1483. One of the most distinguished victims of the protector's ambition was the lord Hastings. The early and honoured friend of Edward IV he had zealously asserted the rights of the young princes while Glou- cester was plotting their destruction. This conduct marked him out for the victim of the man whom no considerations of blood, or justice, or humanity, ever turned aside from the pursuits of ambition and self- aggrandisement. As one of Edward's ministers, Hastings had exhibit- ed a more than ordinary amount of talent, united to as great an amount of conscientiousness, perhaps, as the circle of the English court at the time exhibited. It is true that he accepted a pension of two thousand crowns from Louis XI. of France, the meaning of which could not be misunderstood ; and that at the concluding of the treaty of Pecquigny, he received from the same monarch a gift of twelve dozen of gilt silver bowls, and twelve dozen not gilt, each of which weighed seventeen nobles ; but then this was nothing more than a harmless compliance with the fashion of the times, and the English monarch was too needy and prodigal himself to forbid his favourites any means of making up to themselves what his own treasury could not yield them. Yet, in these corrupt transactions, Hastings showed " some glimmering of a sense of perverted and paradoxical humour." When Cleret, the me- dium of communication between the subtle monarch and the English ministers, hinted that some formal acknowledgment of the donation might be of use to him in his accountings with the king his master, Hastings gravely answered, " Sir, this gift cometh from the liberal pleasure of the king your master, and not from my request ; if it be his determinate will that I should have it, put it into my sleeve ; if not, return it ; for neither he nor you shall have it to brag that the lord- charaberlain of England has been his pensioner." ^ Doubtless the lord- chamberlain felt himself to be a highly honourable and virtuous man, in thus refusing to give a receipt for a bribe which his sleeve at the same time gaped wide to receive; his less scrupulous companion accepted the money, and gave receipts for their several gratuities also, which still appear in the French archives ; but posterity will probably admire the prudence more than the virtue of the lord-chamberlain in his dealings with paymaster Cleret. Handsome in person, and highly accomplished, Hastiags soon made himself a prime auxiliary in Ed- ward's profligate amusements ; and in doing so, incurred the resent- ment of the queen, who justly suspected him of encouraging her hus- band's unbecoming gallantries. In the exjjedition to France, Hastings bore a distinguished part, and was attended by a select body of gentlemen volunteers, who specially attached themselves to his service, and vowed *' to aid and succour him so far forth as law, equity, and conscience, required." Supported by the general feeling in his favour, and at first an object Deither of dread ■ Holinshed, iii. 3i2. Peuiou.] lord HASTINGS. 4i;j nor dislike to the ambitious protector, Ha.'^tiiigs might have stood his prouiui in the convulsions M'liicli followed Edward's death; but his jea- lousy and desertion of Rivers proved fatal to himself. He had been engaged in a personal (piarrel with Rivers, which drew upon iiiin the severe resentment of the king himself, and nearly endangered his life and estate. From this period he had nursed sentiments of revenge to- wards his accomplished rival, wiiicli the force of circumstances alone had prevented him from gratifying. Edwanl had seen and marked their animosity, and while on death-bed, had called them into his chamber, exhorted them to mutual forgiveness, and commanded them to embrace in his presence. They obeyed the royal mandate, and exchanged the external tokens of friendship, but the lapse of a few days suifieed to prove how hollow such reluctant professions of reconciliation were. When Elizabeth proposed in council that Rivers and Gray should con- duct her young son from Ludlow to the metropolis, Hastings and his friends took alarm. They at once perceived that the command of an army would give the queen and the Wydevilles an immense advantage over their opponents. Where, they asked, was the necessity of an army ? Who were the enemies against whom it was to be directed ? Did the Wydevilles mean to break the reconciliation they had so re- cently sworn to observe ? An angry altercation ensued : the queen eagerly insisting on the proposed arrangement, and Hastings as deter- minedly resisting it. At last he declared that he would quit the court and retire to his command at Calais, if the queen persisted in her intentions Elizabeth fearing to provoke a formidable party at so critical a juncture, yielded, and those measures were adopted which, in the issue, placed the queen's party at the mercy of Gloucester. Tlae intelligence of the arrest of Rivers, was received by the lord-chamberlain with a burst of delusive joy. He was directed to communicate intelligence of Gloucester's proceedings at Northampton to the council, and accordingly sent information to the chancellor, Ro- therham, archbishop of York. That prelate instantly waited upon the queen, now preparing to take refuge from the impending storm in the sanctuary of Westminster, aiiO informed her that her son was in his uncle's hands ; but exhorted her to take courage, for " that he was putte in good hojie and out of feare by the message sente him from the lord-chamberlain." " Ah, woo worthe him I" exclaimed the queen, " for hee is one of them that laboureth to destroye me and my bloode."^ For a time Hastings laboured to support Richard, with a blindness to his real designs amounting to fatuity. Lord Stanley told him that " he misliked these several councils" which Richard held witli a private junto of his own, to which neither Hastings, Stanley, nor the arch- bishops of Canterbury and York, were ever invited ; but the chamber- lain laughed at his fears, and replied, " My lord, on my life never doute you, for while one man is there which is never thence, never can there be thinges ones minded that should sounde amisse towards me, but it should be in our cares ere it were well out of their mouths." In these words, Hastings alluded to Catesby, a lawyer who had risen to emi- nence under his patronage, and who was one of the duke's council at Crosby house, from whom he expected to learn all the secrets of thaS " Sir Thomas More. 406 POLITICAL SERIES [Thiri. divan. But Catesby was playing a double and a false game, and was one of the first to betray his ancient patron to the duke. He told him of the warm and unshaken attachment which Hastings bore to the young princes, and from that moment the latter was a doomed man. Stanley again warned him of his danger under the similitude of a dream, afraid, perhaps, to trust even Hastings with a more open disclosure of the sentiments which he entertained regarding Richard. He sent a special messenger to him in the dead of the night, beseeching him to take horse instantly and flee from the city, for that he had just had a fearful vision, wherein a boar had attacked himself and his friend, and wounded both of them in the head with his tusks. Hastings could be at no loss to interpret Stanley's vision, for Richard's cognizance was a boar, yet with blind reliance on the duke's protestations, he laughed to scorn the timidity and visionary terrors of his friend, and desired him to give no credit to such vain phantasies, for he was as sure of the man to whom the vision pointed as of his own hand.^ In the same morning on which Hastings had rejected the counsel thus conveyed to him, a friend of the protector waited upon him, desiring his presence in the council chamber. On their way thither, Hastings stopped to converse with an ecclesiastic of his acquaintance whom he happened to meet in the street, until his companion chided his delay, saying, " What, my lord, I pray you come on, whereto talke you so long with that priest, you have no need of a priest yet^ Still the infatuated noble remained unconscious of danger, and hastened onwards to the place of meeting. Gloucester entered soon after the arrival of Hastings ; his appearance struck the council with surprise and dismay, and they looked in silence at each other and him. His brow was contracted into a dark frown, and for a time he sat biting his lips in suppressed rage, until he sud- denly broke silence by inquiring what punishment those pe>rsons merit- ed who were now imagining and compassing his death. It was Hast- ings who first answered the question by exclaiming, that they should be dealt with as traitors. Gloucester then darkly hinted at his intended victuus : " That sorceress, my brother's wife 1" he exclaimed, plucking up his left sleeve, and exposing the lean and withered arm which it co- vered, and which was well known to have been a congenital deformity of his person. " Ye shall all see," he continued, " how that sorceress and that witch of her council, Shore's wife, have by their practices wasted my body." The accusation, absurd as it was, boded no good to Hastings, who, after Edward's death, had formed a connexion with his favourite mistress ; yet he plucked up courage to reply : " Certainly, my lord, if they have so heinously done, they be worthy of heinous punishment." " What 1" rejoined the protector, *' dost thou answer me with ifs and ands ? I tell thee they have done it, and that I will make good on thy body, traitor I" At these words he struck the table violently with his fist, whereupon, as if at a preconcerted signal, a voice at the door exclaimed ' Treason I' and a body of armed men in- stantly burst into the hall. Hastings and Stanley, with the prelates of York and Ely, were instantly arrested. The three latter were convey- ed away to separate chambers, but Gloucester swore by St Paul, that he would not dine till Hastings' head was ofi', and commanded his vic- ' Sir Tliuinas ftlore. I'ERiOD.J RICHARD UI. 407 tiin to hasten to confession. It was in vain that the unfortunate noble- man iii(|uired what oHence he had committed worthy of death, or even unprisoninent ; the mandate for instant execution was imperious, and none dared to interpose a pU'a for mercy. The nearest priest received the unhappy man's hurried confession, and a log of timber which lay in the yard at the door of the chapel, served for a block, on wiiicli the fatal blow was given. The same afternoon, a proclamation appeared in ^\ Inch it was announced, that Hastings and his friends having coiisjjir- ed " the same day to have slain the lord-protector, and the duke of Buckingham, sitting in the council," had bei-n, " by the help of God," resisted and overcome in the foul attempt. Then followed various ani- madversions on the late chamberlain's character and conduct as an evil counsellor to Edward IV., not omitting severe comments upon his known connexion with Jane Shore.* muD A. D. 1485. Richard the Third has been, until of late years, the ame damnee of historians. They have heaped on his memory the darkest accusa- tions, — imputed to him nearly every atrocious deed that was perpetrated during his public life, — and, to crown this fearful accunmlation, they have described his form as foully distorted, and his features as expres- sive of the deep malignity of his soul. To these representations, the appalling impersonation of villanous hypocrisy to which Shakspeare at- tached the name of Richard has given a force and verisimilitude against which it appears almost hopeless to hold up a tamer, though truer limning. He has come down to the present day, as the assassin of Henry the Sixth and of his unfortunate son, — as the murderer of Clarence, and as the subtle specious schemer, whose object it was, even during the life of his crowned brother, to prepare a way to the throne, by the deliberate extinction of every life which stood between him and the ' royal chair.' For all and each of these charges, the evi- dence is of an exceedingly questionable character. That Henry was actually murdered, though probable, is not absolutely certain; but on the admission that his death was violent, there still does not appear any ground of substantial testimony for charging the act itself on the duke of Gloucester. That he assisted in the cold-blooded butchery of the youthful Edward of Lancaster is indeed affirmed by writers of repute ; yet there is counter-evidence sufficient to throw doubt on the highly- coloured statement which makes princes and nobles the eager murder- ers of a defenceless boy. Of the death of Clarence, there are the strongest reasons for acquitting him ; and it is far more probable that the king was urged on to fratricide by the apprehensions of the queen and her family. It is certainly possible that the bold measures by which he secured first the protectorate, and afterward} the crown, were the result of long premeditation and close intrigue; yet is there abso- lutely nothing in the way of proof that should lead to sueli a conclu- • Sir Thomas More 408 POLITICAL SERIES. |TnmD Bion ; and the balance of probabilities, as well as the peculiar features of the enterprise, would rather induce the belief, that whatever his ambition might have previously hoped, the overt-acts in which it first displayed itself were suggested and governed by the circumstances in which he found himself placed. As crowned king, his administration was just and able. He affected magnificence after the fashion of his deceased brother, though without his fantastical exaggerations. His person and manners— for any thing that appears to the contrary — were pleasing and graceful, though his historians have been pleased to represent a shape, perhaps not alto- gether symmetrical, as a mere system of distortions, ' rudely starapt, — cheated of feature, — deformed, unfinished, — scarce half made up.' Early in his brief reign, he undertook a royal progress througli the kingdom, for the purpose of redressing grievances, correcting abuses, and ad- ministering justice ; but at York, where he had re-enacted the pompous pageant of his coronation, he was startled by menacing intelligence. The duke of Buckingham, Richard's devoted partizan and bosom-coun- sellor through the entire business of the usurpation, had been made too powerful not to whisper to himself a hope that, in tlie scramble for dignities, it might fall to his chance to clutch a sceptre, and when that dream was dissipated by farther reflection, he plotted with the friends of the queen-dowager, to replace young Edward on the throne. But the murderous foresight of Richard had already marred that scheme ; the two princes had perished in the tower, at the command of their uncle. Defeated in this plan, Buckingham put forward the earl of Richmond, afterward Henry VII., as the rightful claimant of the kingdom. Rich- ard, brave and active, lost not an hour in hesitation ; he immediately assembled troops, and issued a proclamation which, for its cool hypo- crisy, may challenge competition. It was something new, even in those strange days, for a king to arraign the private morals of his ene- mies ; yet did he in that marvellous document, in addition to the usual charges of faction and treason, think it worth his while, and worthy of his rank, to abuse his antagonists as ' adulterers and bawds.' ' His armament and his moral indignation were, however, alike uncalled for, since the event proved that Buckingham had miscalculated his means and opportunity. The elements traversed his intended enterprise ; he started from Brecknock, but the Severn was in flood, and the bridges were broken down ; his movements were watched, and his half- hearted followers disbanded. The simultaneous risings which were to have aided his efforts by caUing off the attention of the royalists, were hasily dispersed, and this iU-combined insurrection terminated in the public execution of Buckingham, and the flight of the other Lancas- trian leaders to foreign shores. The king dealt sharply with his foes ; such as came within his grasp he sent to the gibbet and the block ; and a subservient parliament aided him in visiting the rest with confisca- tion and attainder. Richard took farther measures for the legitimation of his title, by procuring, under parliamentary forms, the annulment of his brother's marriage with Elizabeth Grey, thus bastardising the issue of that union. Of this measure, it is not easy to discern the ex- pediency ; the young princes were dead, and this pertinacious recur- ' Kynier. Period.] RICHARD HI. 409 rence to the question of legitimacy, could but revive recollections of little advantage to the individual who had commanded their murder. In other quarters, his policy was wiser : he completed a pacific nego- tiation with Scotland, and intrigued at the court of Bretagne, where the earl of Ilichmond and his adherents had found an asylum, but whence they were compelled to witlulraw by the subtle and success- ful machinations of Richard. But a domestic calamity, the death of his only son in April, 1484, gave him a farther opportunity of ex- ercising his characteristic craft. He persuaded his brother's widow, whose chiklren he had put to death, whose character he had aspersed, and whose rank he had taken away, to quit the sanctuary of West-, minster, where she had so long found refuge, and with her daughters to appear at court. He even procured her consent to his marriage with her eldest daughter, and both these heartless and ambitious women were elated at the prospect of the unnatural alliance, though aware, it is to be feared, that it could not be effected without foul play to Rich- ard's still living queen. But when the death, probably by poison, of his consort, had removed the main difficulty, the well-grounded remon- strances of his favourite advisers defeated the plan. The indignation of the nation at the marriage of uncle and niece, — the confirmation of the general suspicion that it had been preceded and prepared by a con- venient murder, — with other important motives powerfully urged, pre- vailed on the king to abandon his design. In the mean time, a threatening storm was gathering on the shores of France. Henry, earl of Richmond, had been acknowledged by all the exiles, and by the malcontents of England, as the heir of Lancas- ter ; he had pledged himself to merge the conflicting claims of the two houses, by a marriage, in the event of success, with Elizabeth, the heiress of York, and thus blend the opposite rights ; he was ai»sem- bling troops under the auspices of the king of France, for the invasion of England. In July, 1485, he made good his landing at Milford- Haven ; and when he reached Shrewsbury his army amounted to four thousand men, the greater part of whom were Normans. Richard moved on Leicester with a powerful array, but disaffection pervaded its ranks : his crimes had destroyed his chance of reigning, and when the armies faced each other on Bosworth field, he found, that while some of his soldiers were openly deserting him, the remainder were either wavering or obviously waiting the event. In this desperate si- tuation, the king made one last personal effort for victf ry. Perceiving Richmond, surrounded by his officers, at no great distance, Richard charged at full speed upon Henry's guard, cut down his standard- bearer, unliorsed another knight, and was aiming a blow at his rival, who neither avoided nor advanced, when numbers rushed between, and the gallant usurper fell fiercely fighting in the melee. It is not necessary to offer farther illustration of the character of Richard than has been already given. That he has been charged with crimes which he never committed, is more than probable, but wher every deduction has been made, enough will remain to give him high rank among the worst men who have worn a crown. No means, how- ever atrocious, of obtaining his ends, came amiss to him ; poison oi steel, blood or suffocation, craft or violence, were alike in the ])erpetra- tions of this sanguinary hypocrite. In bravery, subtilty, cold-blooded I 3 F ilO ECCLESIASTICAI. SERIES. [Third cruelty and consummate hypocrisy, there is a striking resemblance between his character and that of Aurungzeeb. II. — ECCLESIASTICAL SERIES. mialttv Ue JHertom DIED A. D. 1277. Of the personal history of this excellent bishop little is known. He was the son of William de Merton, archdeacon of Berks, and was born at Merton in Surrey, where also he obtained the rudiments of educa- tion in a monastical establishment. In the year 1239, he appears to have been in possession of the family estate, and also of one in- herited from his mother, both his parents being now dead. In 1259, he held a prebend in Exeter cathedral, and Browne Willis says, that he was vicar of Potton, in Bedfordshire, at the time of his promotion to the see of Rochester. Other accounts say, that he was first canon of Salisbury, and afterwards rector of Stratton. The custom of the times permitted of his devoting his attention to the profession of the law, al- though in holy ©rders, and he appears to have exercised at one and the same time the functions of a divine, a lawyer, and a financier, and that with high credit and reputation. In the court of chancery he became king's clerk, and subsequently protonotary ; and, in 1258, he was ap- pointed to the highest judicial office in the kingdom. The barons, in- deed, deprived him of the chancellorship in the same year in which it had been conferred on him, but he was restored to office in 1261, and held the seals again in 1274, before his consecration to the bishopric of Rochester. Throughout rather a long life, this prelate distinguished himself by the benevolence of his disposition, and the liberal patronage which he was ever ready to extend to men of letters. In 1261, he founded the hospital of St John for poor and infirm clergy ; and soon afterwards he laid the foundation of the college which still bears his name in the university of Oxford. With regard to the latter institu- tion. Wood and others state that the bishop confined his first attention to the erection and endowment of a school at Maiden, which was to form a sort of nursery for the university ; and that although he made provision for the support of the Maiden scholars while attending Ox- ford, the establishment itself was not removeQ from Maiden to Oxford until the year 1274, when its third and last charter was obtained. The successive charters of this establishment are still preserved in the li- brary, and were consulted as precedents in the founding of Peterhouse, the earliest college of the sister-university. His preference of Oxford is explained by the fact of his having studied some time among the ca- nons regular of Osseney, in the neighbourhood of Oxford. Merton died on the 27th of October, 1277. His death was occasioned by a fall from his horse in fording a river in his diocese. He was interred Period.] ARCHBISHOP PECKHAM. 411 in Rorhestor catlnnlral, wliorfi a beautiful alabastor monumeut was ert'ct- ud to Ills inoniory l)y the .sociity of Mcrton college. HORN CIRC. A. D. 124'0 DIKD A. I). 1202. John Peckham, archbishop of Canterbury, in the reign of Edward I., wiis born in the county of Sussex about the year 1240. He received the rudiments of instruction in a monastery at Lewes, whence he was sent to Oxford, where his name occurs in the registers of Merton col- lege. He was created doctor in divinity at this university, and read public lectures : Pitt says he was professor of divinity- He apjjears to have visited Paris twice, and to have read lectures in that city also with great applause. From Paris he journeyed to Lyons, where he wiis presented with a canonry in the cathedral of Lyons, which was held by the archbishops of Canterbury for two centuries after. He then went to Rome, where the pope appointed him palatine lecturer or reader.' In 1278, his holiness consecrated him archbishop of Canter- bury, on his agreeing to pay 4,000 marks for the appointment. Peck- ham had nearly forgot his pledge in this instance, but the holy father failed not to remind him of it, and to accompany his message with a gentle hint at excommunication in the event of further delay or non-com- pliance.^ Edward, who had not yet determined on breaking his peace with the court of Rome, received the new primate in peace, and, though he thwarted him at first in some things, seems to iiave at last reposed considerable confidence in him, for in 1282 he was sent in person to etiect a reconciliation between the king and the prince of Wales, then at Snowdon, and threatening to concur with the oppressed Welsh in the defence of public liberty. Peckham was a man of cor. siderable vigour and independence of mind; shortly after his appoint- ment to the primacy, he held a provincial synod at Reading, in which several canons for the better regulation of the church, and especially for securing effect to its sentences of excommunication, were promul- gated. In 1281, he held another council at Lambeth, in which several canons were enacted touching the administration of the eucharist. In the same year, he addressed a spirited remonstrance to the king in sup- port of the rights and privileges of the clergy. In this document he complains that the church was grievously injured and oppressed by the civil power, contrary to the decrees of the popes, the canons of coun- cils, and the authority of the ortliodox fathers ; " in which," says he, " there is the supreme authority, the supreme truth, and the supreme sanctity, and no end may be put to disputation unless we submit our- selves to these three great laws." He then goes on to protest, that no oaths which may ever be extorted from him shall constrain him to do any thing against the privileges and rights of the church, and offers to absolve the king from any oath he may have taken that can anywise in- cite him against the church. Edward, though he paid no heed to the primate's expostulations, allowed him to remain unmolested. In 1286 ' Lelaiid. « Uuiiiii, xi. '7V 412 ECCLESIASTIC AI. SERIES. [Ihiuk the archbishop signalized his orthodoxy and skill in scholastic divinity, by publicly censuring several propositions maintained by one Richard Knapwell, a Dominican friar. One of these was, " that, in articles of fliith, a man is not bound to rest on tiie authority of the pope, or of any priest or doctor ; but that the holy scriptures and right reason are the only foundations of our assent."'' It is singular that this noble propo- sition, on which the goodly superstructure of the reformation was after- wards reared, should have found a place among Knapwell's heretical propositions, which were all, with this one and splendid exception, too trifling and absurd to merit a moment's notice from any one but the lover of scholastic jargon. Peckham died at Mortlake, in 1292, and was buried in Canterbury cathedral, near the reniains of Thomas Becket. He was succeeded in the primacy by Robert Winchelsey, who is said to have been a prelate of great piety, and some learning, but who sat very uneasy in the archi- episcopal chair under the repeated attacks which Edward and his par- liament made upon the wealth and immunities of the church. Godwin represents Archbishop Peckham as a man of great state, who loved to surround himself with the external marks of authority and grandeur, but was easily accessible, and of a liberal and courteous dis- position. He founded a college at Wingham in Kent ; and Anthony Wood makes frequent mention of the services which he rendered to the university of Oxford. In some of his regulations for that place of learning, he shows his good sense in the censures which he has passed upon certain logical and grammatical nugm which were then in high fashion among the schools ; and he appears to have always been a zeal- ous promoter of strict discipline and good morals. Tanner enumerates a great many of his theological tracts, which still remain, however, in manuscript in our public libraries, with the exception of a few of his letters which were published by Wharton, and his statutes and institu- tions which are inserted in the ' Concilia' of Wilkins. BOUN A. D. 1281. DIED A. D. 1.315. Richard Aungervyle, commonly known by the name of Richard DE Bury, bishop of Durham, was born in 1281, at St Edmund's Bury, in Sufiblk. He was educated at the university of Oxford, after which no entered into the order of Benedictine monks at Durham, and became tutor to Edward, prince of Wales, afterwards King Edward III. Upon the accession of his royal pupil to the throne, he was loaded with ho- nours and emoluments, being first appointed cofferer, then treasurer of the wardrobe, arclidean of Northampton, prebendary of Lincoln, Sarum, and Lichfield, keeper of the privy seal, dean of Wells, — and last of all, promoted to the bishopric of Durham in 1333. He like- wise enjoyed the offices of lord-high-chancelior and treasurer of Eng- land, and discharged two important embassies at the court of France. Learned himself, and a patron of the learned, he maintained a corre- ° VVykt«, p. 1J4. — S|ielm. cctio. ii. Sf7 Pkriod.J WILLIAM OF WYKEITAM. 413 spomlcnco with some of the greatest geniuses of the ago, particularly with the celebrated Petrarch. He was of a most humane .itul benevo- h>nt tem])cr, and performed many signal acts of cliarity. Every week lie caused eight quarters of wheat to he made into bread, and given to the poor; and whenever he traveUed between Durham and Newcastle, he distributed £8 in alms ; between Durham and Stockton, £5 ; be- tween Durham and Auckland, 3 marks ; and between Durham and Middleham, £5. He is said to have possessed more books than all the otiier bishojjs of England together, and foundiid a public library at Oxford for the use of the students, which he furnished with the best col- lection of books, especially Greek and Hebrew grammars, then in Eng- land, and appointed five keepers to whom he granted yearly salaries. At the dissolution of religious houses in the reign of Henry VHI., Durham college, where he had fixed the library, being dissolved among the rest, some of the books were removed to the public library, some to Baliol college, and some came into the hands of Dr George Owen, a physician of Godstow, who bought that college of King Ed- ward VI. Bishop Aungervyle died at his manor of Auckland on the 24th of April, 1345, and was buried in the soutli part of the cross aisle of the cathedral church of Durham, to which he had been a be- nefactor. He wrote : 1st, ' Philobiblos,' a singular book, containing directions for the management of his library at Oxford, and a great deal in praise of learning, but in very bad Latin ;' 2d, ' Epistolas Fa- miliarium,' some of which are addressed to Petrarch ; 3d, ' Orationes sd Principes,' mentioned by Bale and Pitts. BOUN A. D. 1324 DIED A. D. HOi. William of Wykeham, the illustrious founder of New college, Ox- ford, was born at Wykeham in Hampshire, in 1324. It is supposed that he took his surname from the place of his birth, as his father's name appears to have been Lange ; or, according to others, Perrot. His parents were poor, and unable to afford their son a liberal educa- tion ; but, in the person of Nicholas Uvedale, lord of the manor of Wykeham, the future bishop of Winchester, and chancellor of Eng- land, found a discerning and liberal patron ; he sent him to Winches- ter school, and afterwards received him into his household in the capa- city of secretary. At the age of twenty-two or twenty-three, he appears to have ob- tained, probably through the influence of his generous patron, some kind of employment at court, but of what precise nature cannot now be ascertained. The first office which we know him to have held, was that of clerk of the king's works in his manors of Henle and Tes- hampstead. He held this office by patent in 1356, and soon after- wards was made surveyor of the works at Windsor, with an allowance »)f one shilling a-day. It was by the persuasion of Wykeham, that Edward was induced to pull down a great part of the royal castle at ' Spires, 14*3, io. 414 ECCLESIASTICAL SERIES. [Third Windsor, and reconstruct it in that style of magnificence to which it still owes its imposing grandeur. His other great work was Queens- borough castle, in which he displayed great architectural skill in con- tending with the disadvantages of situation and other natural obstacles. Such a man was regarded as a valuable acquisition by a sovereign of Etlward's magnificent taste ; and accordingly we find preferments ra- pidly showered upon him from the royal hand. These were, indeed, of an ecclesiastical kind ; but there is reason to believe that Wykeham had designed from the first to take church orders, and it is a strong con- firmation of this presumption, that in all his early patents he is styled clericus. He was ordained priest by Edyngdon, bishop of Winchester; aiid, in 1357, was presented to the rectory of Pulham in Norfolk; bat as the court of Rome started some difficulties against him, he was not put in possession of the rectorship until 1361. From this latter period, preferments flowed upon him, so that the annual value of his various livings, for some years before he became bishop of Winchester, amounted to £842. His liberality, however, kept pace with his in- creasing means. It is affirmed of him by Dr Lowth, that " he only received the revenues of the church with one hand, to expend them in her service with the other." Nor were his civil promotions less rapid and honourable. In 1360, he attended the king to Calais, and assisted at the ratification of the treaty of Bretagne. In 1362, he was made warden and justiciary of the king's forests on this side of Trent. On the 11th of May, 1364, he was appointed keeper of the privy seal, and two years afterwards, secretary to the king, and chief of the privy coun- cil. Such, indeed, was his influence, that Froissart, a contemporary historian, who was perfectly acquainted with the aftairs of the English court, and at this time resident there, affirms that " every thing was done by this priest, and nothing was done without him." On the 8th of October, 1366, Edyngdon, bishop of Winchester, died, and Wykeham, upon the king's earnest recommendation, was unanimously elected by the prior and convent his successor. It has been said that Wykeham, notwithstanding his promotion in the church, was an illiterate person, but the contrary incontestably appears from the pope's bull, constituting him administrator of the spiritualities and tem- poralities of the see of Winchester ; for in this instrument his holiness speaks of Wykeham as having been specially recommended to him, " by the testimony of many persons worthy of credit, for his know- ledge of letters, his probity of life and manners, and his prudence and circumspection in affairs both spiritual and temporal :" nor are we to regard these as mere words of course, for they are rather a departure from the official language of such documents at the time, and it is not likely that even the court of Rome would choose to depart from a com- mon form to compliment a person for the very quality in which he was notoriously deficient. His advancement to the bishopric was followed by his being appointed chancellor of England on the 17th of Septem- ber, 1367. In this high office, he judiciously laid aside the style of oratory usually adopted by his clerical predecessors, and which savoured more of the pulpit than the bench, for one of a more political and po- pular cast. He held the chancellorship for four years, and when the king yielded to the request of his parliament, that umy secular persons should be appointed to the high-offices of «tate. he frankly, and without Pkriou.] WILLIAM OF WYKEHAM. 416 any expression of cliagrin, resi{»ned the great seal to his successor, Sir Robert de Tiiorp. He still, however, continued the principal adviser and confidant of the king ; and his inliuence was so generally under- stood, tiiat Gregory XI. wrote to him to facilitate an acconiniodation between Edward and the king of France. Soon after his being settled in the bishopric of Winchester, he began to gratify his architectural taste in the repairing of his cathedral, the whole expense of which was defrayed by himself. The care he be- stowed in other parts of his episcoj)al duty, in reforming abuses, and establishing discipline, was equally exemplary, and involved him in a series of disputes with the idle and refractory clergy, in which he con- ducted himself with admirable firmness, judgment, and integrity. The foundation of a college, or of some institution for the promotion of learning and the instruction ot youth, appears to have been, from an early period, a favourite design of Wykeham's. About two years after his entrance on the bishopric, he began to make purchases in the city of Oxford with that view, and he connected with his plans there the design of another college at Winchester, which should be a nursery for that of Oxford. " The plan he conceived," as stated by Lowth, "was no less than to provide tor the perpetual maintenance and instruc- tion of two hundred scholars, to afford them a liberal support, and to lead them through an entire course of education from the first elements of letters through the whole circle of the sciences, from the lowest class of grammatical learning to the highest degrees in the several faculties. It consisted of two parts, rightly forming two establishments, the one subordinate to the other. The design of the one was to lay the foun- dation, that of the other to raise and complete the superstructure ; the former was to supply the latter with proper subjects, and the latter was to improve the advantages received in tlie former." The regulations by which the new institution at Oxford was to be governed, afford some useful information on the studies of the university, and on the mode in which they were classed. The establishment, according to Wood, con- sisted of a warden, seventj' clerical scholars, ten chaplains, three clerks, and sixteen choristers. Ten of the scholars were to study the civil, and ten the canon law, while the remaining fifty were to study divinity, general philosophy, and the arts, two of the number being allowed to study medicine, and two astronomy. The building was ready for the reception of the society early in the spring of 1386, and the feelings of the time are shown by the account given of the solemnities which attended the entry of the warden and fellows into the college. On the 14th of April, and at three o'clock in the morning, they pro- ceeded in procession to the gates chaunting the litanies, and of- fering up the most devout prayers to God that he would bless them and their studies. " Thus," says the historian, " was this noble work finished and completed by the bounty of the thrice worthy and never too much to be admired prelate ; not so much for the eternizing of his own name, but chiefly for the public good, that the holjr writ and all other sciences might the freer be dilated ; that Christ might be preached, and the true worship of him augmented and sustained ; that the number of clerks might be increased, which were before swept away by pestilences and other miseries of the world."' There is reason to • Vol. iii. 183. 416 ECCLESIASTICAIi SERIES. [Third believe that some portion of the good which the bishop is thus sup- posed to have had in view by the foundation of his establishments, re- sulted from his benevolence, and we may regard the imitation of his example by several persons of rank, in subsequent yeai-s, as one of the most important aids which learning at this period received. The importance of the part which the universities of Oxford and Cambri(lge took in those times will be the better appreciated when it IS considered that during the reigns of both Richard the Second and Henry the Fourth, learning required all the protection they could afford it, and that without the strong barrier they opposed to the political evils which were on the point of overwhelming the land that had been won from the waste, truth and genius would have again ceased their labours in despair. The influence of the duke of Lancaster and of Alice Ferrers, was successfully excited against Wykeham during Henry's dotage, and ex- posed him to many troubles ; but on the accession of Richard IH Wykeham was again intrusted with the great seal, and by his prudent conduct amid the multiplied embarrassments of that reign, secured to himself the confidence not only of his royal master, but of the com- mons also. His foresight and caution, however, induced him to make a voluntary surrender of the seals in 1391, and to retire as com- pletely as possible from political life. From this period he confined his attention almost exclusively to the afi'airs of his bishopric, and his favourite foundation at Oxford. He died on the 27th of September, 1404, and was interred in his own beautiful chauntry in Winchester cathedral. BORN A. D. 1324'. DIED A. D. 1384. John Wickliffe was born about the year 1324, in a village on the banks of the Tees, near Richmond, in Yorkshire. Of his parent- age and earlier years little is known. History first presents him to us as a student in Queen's college, Oxford, and subsequently in Merton col- lege, where, by the hard exercise of considerable talents, he became a respectable scholar. Having mastered Aristotle, he applied himself vi- gorously to the study of the scholastic theology of the day, and soon attained unrivalled skill in the puzzling jargon and subtle casuistry of. the schoolmen, — a circumstance which eminently qualified him for the part he was afterwards to act against the errors and subtleties of Ro- manism. He then applied himself with equal assiduity to the study of the civil and canon law and the Latin fathers ; and finally betook him- self to the diligent investigation of the fountains of sacred truths in the holy scriptures themselves. So profound and splendid were his varied acquirements soon esteemed to be, that his contemporaries bestowed on him the honourable appellation of ' the Gospel-doctor.' It was not till the year 1360, that Wlcklifte was called to exhibit either his talents or his tenets, both of which were now displayed in defence of his university against the encroachments of the mendicant monks. Oxford in its earlier days, is reported to have often number- Pr.EJOT).l JOHN WICKLIFFE 41'' ed witiiin its walls upwards of thirty tfiousand students. But this mighty army had been reduced to si\ thousand by tlu; miseonduct of the monks. *' These religious," says Gilpin, "from the time of their fii-st settlement in Oxford — which was in the year 1230 — had been very trou- blesome neighbours to the university. They set up a different interest, aimed at a distinct jurisdiction, fomented feuds between the scholars and their su])eriors, and in many respects Ixu-ame such otlensive in- mates, that the university was obliged to curb their licentiousness by severe statutes. This insoh^nt behaviour on one side, and the oppositiou it met with on the other, laid the foundation of an endless (piarrel. The friars appealed to the pope, the scholars to the civil power ; and some- times one party and sometimes the other prevailed. Thus, the cause became general ; and an op])osition to the friars was looked upon as the test of a young fellow's ati'ection to the university. It hajjpened, while things were in this situation, that the friars had got among them a notion of which they were exceedingly fond ; that Christ was a common beggar; that his disciples were beggars also ; and that beg- ging, by their ('xample, was of gospel institution. This notion they propagated with great zeal from all the pulpits, both in Oxford and the neighbourhood to which they had access. Wiekliffe — who had long held these religious in great contempt for the laziness of their lives — thought he had now found a farr occasion to expose them. He drew up, therefore, and presently published a treatise ' Against able beggary,' in which he first showed the difference between the poverty of Christ and that of tlie friars, and the obligations which all Christians lay under to labour in some way for the good of society. He then lashed the friars with great acrimony, proving them to be an infamous and useless set of men, w allowing in luxury, and so far from being objects of cha- rity, that they were a reproach not only to religion but even to human society. This piece was calculated for the many, on wliom it made a great impression ; at the same time it increased his rey^utation with the learned, all men of sense and freedom admiring the work, and ap- plauding the spirit of the author. From this time, tlie university began to consider him as one of her first champions ; and in consequence of the reputation he had gained, he was sooh after- wards promoted to the mastership of Baliol college." Archbishop Islip subsequently conferred the wardenship of Canterbury hall upon VVickliiie, styling him in his letters of institution, " a person in whose fidelity, circumspection, and industry, he very much confided." The succession of Simon Langham to the archiepiscopal dignity, led to the ejection of VVicklifle, in 1367, from his wardenship ; but such was the attachment of the secular scholars to him, that they refused to obey his successor in office, and were only reduced to silence by a bull fron) Rome. Wickliife's next appearance as a controversialist was on behalf of his sovereign Edward HI., against the claims put forth by the papal ciuiir. Urban had threatened to cite the king of England before his court at Rome, for non-payment of the tribute which his predecessor, John, had bound himself to pay the holy see. Edward had laid the matter before his parliament, and that assembly had unanimously declared that King John could not, of his own power and authority, sulyect his kingdom to a foreign power, and tliat consetpiently they would support their 418 ECCLESIASTICAL SERIES. [Tiiirc sovereign in his resistance to the pope's pretensions. The pope found advocates of his claims, however : of these, one in particular, a monk, profound, subtle, and eloquent, put forth a treatise, which produced on the public mind a strong impression against the king. Wicklifte sat down to pen an answer to this work, and, bringing to his task equal talents, with the auxiliaries of common sense and sacred scripture, com- pletely overwhelmed his antagonist. This brought him into more no- tice, and procured for him the patronage of government. In 1372, he was elected professor of divinity at Oxford, and thus placed on the summit of an eminence, whence, in all directions, he could pour streams of gospel light into the surrounding darkness. The appearance of such a man in such a place was as novel and startling as that of a burning citadel on the brow of a promontory at the hour of midnight, and nearly as astounding and universal was the alarm and excitement pro- duced by it. The glory of the scholastic theology had now reached its acme. The schoolmen, infatuated by the perverted philosophy of Aristotle, were busy perplexing truth instead of elucidating it, and pertinaciously pursuing the most frivolous inquiries under the title of learning, to the utter extinction of all piety and all peace. While such themes were the subject of meditation in the cloister, and of prelection in the academic chair, what was to be expected from the pulpit but kindred disquisitions equally impious and useless ? These were inter- mingled with the dreams of the fathers and the traditions of the church, with false miracles and legendary tales, as destitute of truth as repug- nant to common sense. The former satisfied the educated and meta- physical ; the latter gratified the passion of the wonder-loving multitude ; and thus the delusions of Romanism were fostered, and the interests of the monastic orders advanced with the public. In this state of things, if Wicklitfe's situation was advantageous, it was also eminently critical ; and at the commencement of his career there was need of consummate prudence. Aware that established customs, old feelings, and deep- rooted prejudices, were not to be at once assailed and overturned, he was contented at first with frequently treating his audiences to logical and metaphysical disputations, thus accustoming them to hear novelties of doctrine propounded, and ancient opinions controverted. As nothing was admired in the schools but discussions on time, space, substance, identity, and such like themes, Wicklilfe at first expatiated only on these ; but with his prelections on such unedifying topics, he gradually inter mixed and pushed as far as was consistent with prudence his new opin- ions in divinity, sounding as it were the minds of his hearers, till, at length, finding the water of sufficient depth, and hourly increasing, he set every sail, and scudded fearlessly along before the breeze of truth and reason, steering constantly by the compass of revelation. His celebrity soon attracted a vast concourse of students, and his opinions were gradually, though silently, imbibed by a host of pupils. Nor was he less admired in the pulpit than in the schools. He amused not the learned among his auditors with the subtleties of scholastic disputation, nor the vulgar with panegyrics on saints, and accounts oi mii-acles. The doctrines of religion, as far as it was then safe to pro- mulgate them, and the duties of the christian life, he at all times se- riously enforced upon his audience : but when fitting opportunity ottered, he failed not to denounce the corruptions of the church, the profligacy Phriod.I JOHN WICKLIFFE. 419 of the cIiTg}', and the usurpations of tlie pope, with a force of argument which Hashed conviction on eviTy uiipr(juthe furnace of their wrath seven times more than formerly; if again he decided in favour of the pope, this was to incur the displeasure of the throne, and deprive him of the royal protection. In these circumstances Wickliffe might well have paused and hesitated, but he flinched not, and calmly resolved the question in the affirmative, offering to prove it on the principles of the law of Christ. This affair rendered him much more odious to t!ie court of Rome tlian all his former heresies ; but the day was at hand which was expected to seal his doom. On the day appointed for his appearance before the bishops, Wickliffe, accompanied by the duke of Lancaster, and Lord Percy, earl marshal of England, presented himself at St Paul's. The bishops were confounded at seeing him enter supportetl by the two greatest per- sonages in tlie realm ; and the metropolitan prelate, losiug his temper ' Sob Midiilttoji'o BicR. Evanj'. I'EUioD.] JOHN WICKLIiTE. 42\ sufFered himself to be loci into violent altercation with the dnko of l^meiwter. The trial ncviT e.iine on ; i'or the v;Lst concourse a-sseniLlnl within and without the buildiui,' joined in the altercation, and the whole became a scene of uproar and concision.* At htst the mi'cting ilispersed, and Wicklifle was anew sunnnoned to meet the bishops at Lambeth. Here his enemies were again disappointed, lor they had no Kooner met, than Sir Lewis Clitlbrd entered the assembly, and, in an authoritative tone conunanded them to desist from proceeding to any decision against Wicklitie. The menace of Sir Lewis meant more than inet the ear, and WicklitFe was again dismissed with an injunction to broach his heresies no more either in the schools or in the pulpit. He made no promises, however, and that he purposed no obedience was evinced by his future conduct. Gregory XL dying in 1378, a new pope was elected, who conilucted himself with such insuiferable arrogance that he lost the aHection of his subjects, and disgusted the cardinals, which led to the election of a rival pope. These two infallibles contended for power with the most indecent violence ; they called each other liars, and pronounced against each other the sentence of exconmiunication. Wicklitie was not asleep the while, but viewed the fight of the holy fathers as an omen for good: and while they were labouring each to prove the otiier an usurjier and impostor, he was doing his best to prove that such was the true character of both. His zeal and talents were alike roused, and he sent forth into the world two tracts entitled 'The Schism of the Roman Pontitis,' and •The Truth of Scripture.' In the latter of these publications he con- tended for the translation of the word of God into the vernacular tongues, and insisted on the sufficiency of the Bible as a directory in doctrine and discipline. Soon after this, he was taken very ill, and fears were entertained lest his disease; sliould prove tiital, — a catustrophe anxiously hoped for by the monks, who also cherished an expectation, that in these sorrowful circumstances he might be induced to revoke what he had written against them, and what had brought them into such contempt. To solicit this, a solemn deputation, consisting of a friar from eacii of the mendicant orders, was sent to him. Behig admitted into his presence, they declared their object, and were listened to in silence ; he then ordered his attendants to raise him from his pillow, and with a severe countenance indicative of vast energy of purpose, and in a firm tone, though erewhile so feeble, exclaimed, "I shall not die but live, and farther declare the evil deeds of the friars I" The deputation retired in confusion ; and Wicklitfe, as soon as he recovered, set about the promised work of reformation. He uniformly acted on a system wisely planned and vigorously pur- sued. He saw that the want of a version of the Scriptures in the vernacular tongue was a source of the most serious evils, and in order to supply such a desideratum, he had from an early period been labouring to effect a translation. When the Scriptures were first rendered into Latin, it was the universal language of the western world, and as such proved an admirable vehicle of conveyance for religious truth ; but in time it ce;ised to be spoken, and was superseded by a variety of dialects, possessing some more, some less aili:iity to it. Latit. » Fultar. was no longer acquired on the breast and in the nursery, but, to be learned, needed to be formally studied. The Bible became thenceforth a sealed book to the multitude, and was understood only by the clergy. to whom the people owed any glimpse which they possessed of its meaning and doctrines, and who might impart, or withhold and gloss and modify at pleasure. Wickliffe wished to reduce the priests to the capacity of mere ex- pounders of God's law, and to enable the people to judge for themselves. This he deemed the likeliest way to erect an effectual barrier against the progress of that baleful stream, which rolling over the world over- whelmed and destroyed every vestige of Apostolic Christianity both in doctrine and practice. In order to prepare the world for the transla- tion of the divine volume, which he had finished, he expatiated in his writings and sermons on the duty and right of the people to read the Scriptures, and reprimanded their spiritual guardians for shutting up these wells of living water. Having used every means that his bold and prolific genius could suggest, or his restless industry effect, to inspire the nation with a desire to read this inestimable volume, in the year 1380 he published his translation of both Testaments. This was the heaviest calamity — the most dismal omen that had ever befallen the Romish polity ; it was the first spark of a conflagration destined to con- sume the whole citadel of Romish corruption and error. It is generally supposed that WicklifFe's was the first translation of the whole Scrip- tures, though some maintain that Richard Fitz-Ralpii, archbishop of Armagh, and others that John de Trevisa, a Cornish man, both of whom lived in the reign of Edward III., had already achieved this noble under- taking. It is at least certain that they had commenced to do so, and had in part performed the task. A Saxon version of the Psalms had also been executed by our great Alfred, and the venerable Bede is supposed to have rendered the entire Scriptures into that language. But, however this may have been, the version of Wicklifte superseded that of his predecessors, and was the only one in use until the invention of printing and the revival of letters, when Tindale prepared and pub- lished that edition in the English language which cost him his life at the stake. Wickliffe executed his version from the vulgate, not that he regarded it as of equal authority with the Hebrew and Greek copies of the Scriptures, but because he did not understand these languages well enough to translate from them.^ The sword of Wickliffe was now drawn, he had burst the toils of priestcraft, and, rushing into the arena of combat, summoned the world to attend the decision. The forces of the court of Rome were also put in motion. The thunders of the pontiff shook the seven hills, and ex- tended their hoarse murmurs to the British shores ; but the reformer was no longer to be dismayed by the vain anathemas of Rome, though these erewhile and even then had made thrones totter and monarchs * Of this translation several manuscript copies are extant in our public libraries, VVicUlifFo's Wew Testament was publislied in iVilio, in 1731, by the Rev. John Lewis. It has also been republished by Mr Baber of the British Museum. Tiie following ihree verses of tlie 8lh chapter of the Romans may serve as a sptcinien of iliis version : " And we witen, that to men that louin God alle tiling is worchen to gidre into good to hem tliat aftir purpose been clepid seyniis. Forthillv that he knew hifore, he bifore ordeynede bi grace to be niaaJ l)k to the ymage of his Sone, that he, be the firste bigeten among maiiye britheren. And »hilke that lie bifore ordeynede tn blisse, hem he clipede, and whiche he clipede hem he justifiede, and wi-ich he justifiede, and hem he glorifiede." PKnion.! JOHN WICKLIFFE. 42S tremble. Amid the terrible menaces of the prelates, and the foul abuse of the inferior clergy, he went on unmoved, safe under the protection of heaven, and happy under the approbation of a good eonscienee Having proved the j)o\ver and temper of the weapon which he now wiehh'd, he proceeded to apply it to tiie dogmas of the irifallil)le church. Mis first stroi^ewas at a doctrine, at once the most repugnant to reason and the most revered by tiie Romanists — transubstantiation. Tiiis su- preme absurdity was bc^gotteii by a French monk in the ninth century, and introduced into England about tiie middle of tlie eleventh. Igno- rance favoured its progress, and the clergy, eager to embrace whatever tended to promote their advantage, laid hold on this tenet as one cal- culated to inspire unbounded reverence for them by exalting the peo- ple's notions of their spiritual power. Accordingly, its adoption became general, and it was at length ratified in the thirteenth century by the third Lateran council. Wicklitt'e first oppugned it in his lectures at Oxford, and afterwards published his sentiments under the title ol ' Sixteen Conclusions,' which he offered to defend j)ublicly in that school of learning. The chancellor, however, opposed this, knowing that no man was equal to Wickliffe's disputation, and fearing lest a triumph might increase his party, and give a still M'ider currency to his opi- nions. He persuaded twelve doctors of the university to join him in signing a programm(>, whereby academic members were prohibited from holding or defending the same doctrines with Wicklift'e under pain of imprisonment and suspension. This was a short and easy method of refutation, but the reformer was not to be thus silenced, he appealed to his old friends, the parliament, but the king having no farther imme- diate need of his services, and regardless of the progress of truth when his own power was secure, refused to interfere ; and Lancaster now told him, that in such things he should submit to his superiors. While he laboured to emancipate government from the political thraldom by which the pontiff" had oppressed it, Wickliffe was hailed, and praised, and rewarded ; but when he began to knock off the spiritual fetters of his fellow men, and to deliver them from the direst bondage, he found himself alone. The hierarchy now ventured again to summon him before an eccle- siastical court. He appeared at Oxford on the appointed day, and be- fore the bishops and doctors read his extorted confession. The majority appeared satisfied with his explanation, and the court was obliged to dismiss hiin without censure ; but the wily chancellor and some of the monks considered the confession rather as a vindication than a recanta- tion of sentiments — and so it really was. They, therefore, singly and daily assailed him with nioek arguments and real abuse ; but, in the midst of all opposition, he persevered in his purpose, and had the satis- faction to behold his followers daily multiplying throughout the king- dom. Such was the progress of truth, that even popish writers con- fessed, that half the people were Lollards and half Wickliffites. The Catholics raged and wondered ; Wickliffe held his peace, and laboured on, till his success waxed beyond endurance, and Archbishop Court ney, a man entirely devoted to the interests of the Romish see, put forth his arm to crusii the reformer. He brouglit a bill into parlia- ment, the object of which was to arrest and imprison all venders oi 424 ECCLESIASTICAL SERIES. [Thirp heresy during the pleasure of the holy church.* This bill passed the house of lords, but it was rejected by the commons. The primate now applied to Richard II. for letters patent, addressed to the chancellor of Oxford, commanding him to banish Wickliffe and his disciples from the university. The chancellor refused to execute the order, assigning as the reason, that he would thereby endanger his own life and the peace of the university ; but the primate was not to be baffled, and became loud and peremptory. WickliiFe saw the storm gathering, and to avoid it, quitted Oxford for ever, and retired to his rectory of Lutterworth, where he continued to preach and to defend his opinions. It was doubt- less to this champion of truth a moment of exquisite anguish, when he took a final farewell of those schools, the most renowned in the world, over which he had presided with unrivalled distinction, and wherein with unshackled boldness he had expounded the doctrines of wisdom. The contest of the popes was still raging. Urban VI. was resolveil to try a more substantial mode of warfare than had yet been adopted, and bring the quarrel to an issue by force of arms. Urban applied to Eng- land for men and money ; and to all who in any vyay abetted his cause, there was granted the utmost profusion of indulgencies and pardons. The honest heart of Wickliffe could not conceal its horror and indigna- tion at such a procedure. He denounced the pope in terms of the most unmeasured disgust and abhorrence, as the enemy of all good, declaring both the popes two false priests, open antichrists. " Why," he asks, " will not the proud ]}riest of Rome grant full pardon to all men to live m love and peace, as he does to all such as fight and slay those who never offended him ?" By this the wrath of the pope was excited to the uttermost, and he summoned the bold disturber to Rome to answer for his misdemeanors. He wrote the pope, pleading his health as one ex- cuse for non-appearance, having been recently attacked by palsy, but informing his holiness at the same time, that " Christ taught him more obeish to God than to man." This seems by his holiness to have been received as glad tidings, and viewing it as a presage of mortality, his terrors were somewhat abated. It was hoped that he, whom nothing else could quiet, would soon be silenced by death, and henceforth the veteran polemic was permitted to live and labour with comparatively little molestation. About two years after this, he was a second time attacked with palsy in December 1384, while attending divine service with his people at Lutterworth, and after an illness of three days he expired.^ He was buried in the chancel of his church, where his ashes reposed, till the hand of violence disturbed their peace. This shocking violation took place in consequence of a decree of the council of Constance in 1415, when, after the condemnation of 45 articles, relative to his doctrines, the reformer himself was pro lounced to have died an obstinate heretic, and his bones were ordered vxasp( ration a power the most dreadful and overwhelming and imi)laeabh' that tlien existed. He stood almost alone on the earth ; unimpressed by the example, and unawed by the execrations of adoring millions, he indignantly refused to fall down before the idol. He apjjears to have been a man at once amiable and ardent — bold and cautious — a lover of civil and sacred freedom, yet one who rebuked every species of licentiousness with the fieedoir. and severity of an apostle. In his doctrinal opinions, he held all the points afterwards maintained by Calvinists against Arminians. In the matter of church government, his views strictly corresponded with those of the Congregationalists. To the Romish hierarchy, Wickliffe wiis more mischievous when dead than while alive. His books conferred on him a s])iritual onmipresence, for by those he spoke at once in a mul- titude of places, and to tens of thousands. When the Romanists could do no rnoie, they bestowed an epitaph on their arch-opponent. This singular article was expressed as follows : — " The devil's instrument, church's enemy, people's confusion, heretic's idol, hypocrite's mirror schism's broacher, hatred's sower, lie's forger, flattery's sink — who, at his death, despaired like Cain, and stricken by the terrible judgme.Pt of God, breathed forth his wicked soul to the dark mansion of the black devil 1" 9ircpisi|)op Couitnt])* BORN A. D. 134-1 DIED A. D. I.]96. William Courtney, archbishop of Canterbury, in the reign of Richard II., was the fourth son of Hugh Courtney, earl of Devon- shire, by Margaret, daughter of Bohun, earl of Hereford. He wa^ born in the year 1341, and received education at Oxford, where he ap- plied himself with singular diligence and success to the study of the civil and canon law. On ent(;ring into holy orders, he soon obtained no fewer than three distinct prebends, and in 1369, he Mas promoted to the see of Hereford, from which he was translated, in 1375, to that of London. In a synod held at London in 1376, Bishop Courtney distinguished himself by his strenuous opposition to the king's demand of a new subsidy ; and soon after he incurred the censure of the high court of chancery for having presumed to publish a bull of the pope without the king's consent. In the last year of Edward III., he under- took, with the assistance of Archbishop Sudbury, to investigate into the new heresies then propagated by Wickliffe. The result of this in- terference, we have already noticed in our sketch of the intre})id re- former himself. In 1381, Courtney was appointed lord-high-chancellor of England, and the same year was elevated to the see of Canterbury on the death of Sudbury. One of his earliest measures, as primate, was to call a synod of divines, in which four-and-twenty oi)ini(yns zealously inculcated by the new preachers were censured : ten as heretical, fourteen as erro- neous and of dangerous tendency. It chanced, that just as the syno(i I 3 u 426 ECCLESIASTICAL SERIES. [Thiri were about to enter on business, an earthquake shook the building in wliich they were assembled, whereupon some of the prelates flung down their papers, and crying out that the business upon which they were assembled was evidently displeasing to God, resolved to proceeci no further in the matter. " The archbishop alone," says Gilpin, " re- mained unmoved ; with equal spirit and address, he chid their supersti- tious fears, and told them, that if the earthquake portended any thing, it portended the downfall of heresy ; that as noxious vapours are lodged in the bowels of the earth, and are expelled by these violent concus- sions, so by their strenuous endeavours, the kingdom should be purified from the pestilential taint of heresy which had infected it in every part." Wickliffe's partisans drew an opposite augury from the omen. " The erth tremblide," he writes, " for they put an heresie on Crist and the sayntes in hevyne ;" but the anecdote sufficiently illustrates the courage and superior firmness of the archbishop. In 1392, in a parliament held at Winchester, Courtney, who was probably suspected of privately abetting the papal encroachments, pre- sented an answer to certain articles which had been exhibited by the commons in relation to the pope's pretensions. Soon after this, he ob- tamed from the pope a grant of fourpence in the pound on all eccle- siastical benefices, but the collection of this impost was stoutly opposed by the bishop of Lincoln, and ere the matter could be decided, the archbishop died on the 31st of July, 1396. He was buried at Maid- stone in Kent where he had founded a college of secular priests. Courtney appears to have been a staunch adherent of the court of Rome> — bold yet politic ; in some instances he exhibited considerable strength of mind and liberality of views. In the parliamentary history some notice is taken of the speech which, as chancellor of England, he delivered at the opening of the parliament, in 1382. It is a pretty fair dissertation on the evils of bad government, and the necessity of an upright and steady administration of the law to the peace and pros- perity of a country. BORN A. U. 1333 DIED A. D. 1413. ThoxMas Arundel, second son of Robert Fitz-Alan, earl of Arundel and Warren, and archbishop of Canterbury in the reigns of Richard II., Henry IV., and Henry V., was born in the year 1333. Long before this time, the j)ope had exercised a kind of feudal authority in England, and had claimed the right of bestowing benefices, and even of nominating to them by provision, or anticipation, before they became actually void. Against the whole of this usurpation the English government had pro- tested ; and, in the year 1330, by a statute of 23th Edward III., the pope's authority, in filling up the vacant bishoprics, was expressly disallowed. Still, however, in defiance of the English law, the pope continued to exercise this prerogative, — a circumstance to which Arundel owed his preferment from the archdeaconry of Taunton to the bishopric of Ely. He received the mitre at an earlier period of life than lia-s been known in any other instance in the whole annals of the Pkriou.I archbishop ARUNDEL. 427 Knglish church. The king had written to the chapter, desiring thtm to eh>ct his own confessor, John Woociroof, to th(! vacant bishcjprie ; but tlie monks unanimously ciiose one Henry Wakefield, whereupon the pope stejit in, and, by virtue of his apostolic authority, declared the youthful arclnleacon of Taunton, bishop of Ely. At 21 years of age he was consecrated bishoj), and, two years afterwards, \v;is enthroned at Ely with the usual solemnities.' Godwin relating this singularly judi- cious exercise of pontifical power, humorously describes this venerable prelate as full of years and gravity, — an old man, with one foot in the grave, who had almost completed his 22d year — " annosum (juendam, qucmque virum facile credas gravissimum." — " Cum jam," he adds, " O capularem senem ! atatis annum explevisset fi; re vicesinium se- cundum." Ind6;ed the bishop seems to have carried witli him, through every stage of his advancement, a puerile taste for show and splendour. While in the see of Ely, he presented tlie church and palace with a curious table of massy gold enriched with precious stones : and, after his accession in 1388, by virtue of the pope's bull, to the archiepiscopal see of York, besides building a magnificent palace for himself and his successors, he gave to the church many pieces of plate and other rich ornaments. In 1396, when, by the same authority, he was raised to the sunniiit of ecclesiastical preferment, and enthroned with great pomp at Canterbury, he presented to the cathedral church several rich vest- ments, a mitre enchased with jewels, a silver gilt crosier, and a gold chalice. During the ten years which preceded Arundel's appointment to the archbishopric of Canterbury, he occupied, with some interruptions, the honourable and important post of lord-high-chancellor of England. He took a leading part in the first attempt which was made to deliver the nation from the oppression of Richard H., by obtaining a commis- sion for the duke of Gloucester, the earl of Arundel, and others, to as- sume the regency, and was banished from his see, and from the king- dom, on the parliament declaring the said commission " prejudicial to the king's prerogative and dignity." Pope Boniface IX., however, seized this occasion of expressing his displeasure against the king and parliament of England for having attempted to deprive him of his pro- visional jurisdiction in that country, and gave Arundel an honourable reception at the court of Rome, nominated him to the archbishopric of St Andrews, and declared his intention of giving him other preferments in England, whereupon the king wrote an expostulatory letter to the pope, in which he describes Thomas Arundel as a man of a turbu- lent, seditious temper, who was endeavouring to undermine his govern- ment, and entreats that his holiness would not, by any act of his, " create such misunderstandings between the crown and the mitre, as it might firove difficult to remove ;" at the same time adding : " If you have a mind to provide for him otherwise, we have nothing to object, only we cannot allow him to dip in our dish."^ The pope not choosing to haz- ard a quarrel, withheld his intended favours fiom Arundel, and, at the king's request, promoted Roger Walden, dean of York, to the see of Canterbury. ' Beii'.liutn's Hist, and Atitiq. of the Cliiirch of £1\, p. 164 — i&i- ' I'arker's Antiq. liiil. 428 ECCLESIxVSTICAL SERIES. TTHiRr Early in Henry's reign, the exigencies of the state requiring largo supplies, a design was formed of seizing the revenues of the church, and applying them to the public service ; and in the ])arliament held at Co- ventry in 1404, it was urged, that the wealth of the church might well be spared to the necessities of the state ; that the clergy who had accu- mulated immense revenues, lived in idleness and luxury, and contributed little to the public benefit, while the laity were hazarding both their persons and fortunes in the service of their country ; and that, there fore, in a moment of public necessity, it was reasonable to have recourse to this fund. Arundel, who was present, to avert the blow which f hreatened the church, pleaded that the clergy had always contributed more to the public service than the laity ; that thougli they did not serve the king in person in his wars, yet they did military service by their tenants ; and that they were at least as serviceable to the king b} their prayers as the laity by their arms. The speaker of the house. Sir John Cheney, observed, that he thought the prayers of the church a very slender supply at best,' and that its lands would do the nation much more service ; whereupon the archbishop warmly retorted, and concluded by boldly defying the house to invade the rights and posses- sions of the church. The commons admired the archbishop's resolu- tion, and confessed the impolicy of their expedient. While Arundel thus zealously defended the temporalities of the church, he discovered equal zeal for the preservation of its internal constitution. The Lol- lards and Wickliliites excited the jealousy of the metropolitan, and he adopted violent and unjustifiable measures for the suppression of these rising sects. Supported by the body of the clergy assembled in convo- cation at St Paul's, in London, who complained of the strange dege- neracy and contumacy of the students in a university hitherto exem- plary for its adherence to the Catholic faith, and for its order and correct behaviour, the archbisliop sent delegates to the university of Oxford to inquire into the state of opinions among the students, many ol whom were suspected of Wickliiiitism ; and a connnittee was appointed by the university to sit in inquisition, under the authority of the dele- gates upon heretical books, particularly those of Wicklitfe. and to examine such persons as were suspected of favouring this new heresy. The report of these inquisitors was transmitted to the primate, wiio confirmed tlieir censures ; and the persecution thus raised, was carried by this bigot to an absurd and cruel extremity ; lie even went so far as to solicit from the pope a bull for digging up Wickliff'e's bones, which, nowever, was wisely refused him. Upon the authority of the horrid act for burning heretics, passed in the reign of Henry IV., a Lollard, in the year 1410, was consigned to the stake ; and at the commence- ment of the reign of Henry V., Lord Cobliam, one of the principal [latrons of the sect, was indicted by the primate, convicted of heresy, and sentenced to the flames. He also procured a synodal constitution, which forbade the translation of the scriptures into tlie vulgar tongue. Soon after pronouncing sentence of excommunication against Cobham. the archbishop was seized with an inflammation in his throat, which s})eedily terminated his life, on the 20th of February, 1413. The Lol- lards, who partook of the superstitious cliaracter of the times, imputed this sudden illness and death to the just judgment of God. Bishop Godwin says: ".Justo Dei judicio factum ferunt, ut is qui verbum Dei, aiiiinos p;il)ulnin siihtraxerat popularil)U3, clausis p«T aiif,'iiiaiii am iiiorbuin alicpK'Ui consiinilciu faucil)us, alirpiaiito ant,(! luoiti'iii temporo, lice vcibukim putucrit I'ari, iicc cibi vol miiiiimiin dcglutirc, adeoque luutiis faiiuHjue taiuiem enectus iiiediu interierit." BOKN A. I). \3(y2 DIKI) A. U. ll.'J.'J. On the deatli of Arundel, Henry Cliicliole was elevated to the pri- macy. Chichele was born at Ilighani-Ferrers in Nortlianiptonshire. and educated at Winchester school and New College. Under the pa- tronage of" Richard Metfbrd, bishop of Salisbury, he rose rapidly through various ecclesiastical preferments and dignities, until, in the year 1407, he was employed by Henry IV. in three successive embassies to Rome and the court of France. During his residence at the Roman court in 1408, Pope Gregory XII. presented him with the l)ishopric of St Da- vid's ; and, in the following year, he was deputed, with Hallum, bishop of Salisbury, and Chillingdon, prior of Cant(^rbury, to represent the Engnsh church in the council of Pisa. In May, 1410, the renewal of negonations for a truce betwixt France and England, was chiefly en- trusicri to Chichele ; and on the accession of Henry V., he was sent a tliird time into France to negotiate a peace. Chichele obtained the primacy at a critical moment. The king had made demands on the court of France, which promised to end in a rup- ture with that country, and large supplies were wanted. The parlia- ment urged Henry to seize the revenues of the church, and appl}' them to the use of the crown. The clergy, alarmed for tlie whole, wisely resolved to sacrifice a part in the hope of saving the rest, and volun- tarily agreed to surrender all the alien priories which depended on capi- tal abbeys in Normandy, and had been bequeathed to these abbeys while that province remained united to England, and Chichele was de- puted to lay their offer before parliament, and recommend it to the king's acceptance. The offer was acce])tod, and the archbishop was the first to inform the French envoys at the English court, that the only terms on which peace could be preserved was the instant and full re- storation to his sovereign, of all the territories which had ever been possessed by his predecessors. It is alleged by some historians tliat Chichele secretly wished to plunge Henry into a war, as the most ef- fectual means of diverting the blow which then threatened the church. But, while it is certain that this prelate was one of the most strenuous advisers of a war with France, it is not less certain that he needed not to create by any artificial or secret policy, the love of foreign wailare in his sovereign's mind ; the disposition already existed there in sufii- cicnt strength, and in what manner the archbishop could have repressed it, supposing a pacific course to have been clearly the better policy at the time, cannot now be determined without a much more intimate knowledge of tiie state of parties in England at the time than we pos- sess. During this period, howt^ver, besides taking the lead in the af- fairs of «. 351. i?)2 ECCLESIASTICAL SERIES. [Tmm here. God make him a good man I"* Bedford, complying with tte bishop's request, arrived in England in December 1425, and immedi- ately convoked an assembly of tlie nobles, at St Alban's, to hear and determine the matter ; but the two parties instantly assumed such a liostile appearance towards each other, that it was deemed prudent to delay the business for a time. On the 25th of March, the peers again met at Leicester, v/hen the duke exhibited six articles of impeachment against his rival the bishop of Winchester. The substance of these articles was as follows: — That the bishop had prevented the protector I from obtaining access to the tower ; that he had secretly concerted niea- j sures for getting the young king removed from Eltham to Windsor; that he had compassed the death of the protector ; that he had made an at- tempt on the life of the late king, by the hands of a hired assassin; that during the sickness of Henry IV. he had advised his son to assume the government, without waiting for his father's decease; that in his letter to the duke of Bedford he had plainly avowed his intention of stirring up a rebellion in the nation. To these articles the bishop exhibited distinct answers ; and a connnittee having been appointed to examine the respective allegations of the parties, the bishop was pronounced clear of the whole charges preferred against him ; whereupon. Speed tells us the duke and the bishop were persuaded to swear friendship in future, the one upon his princehood, and the other upon his priesthood. The duke of Bedford, how ever, took away the great seal from his uncle. Two years afterwards, the duke returning into France, was accompanied to Calais by the bishop ol Winchester, who there received the cardinal's hat sent him by Martin V. Beaufort's return with increased dignities was by no means accept- able to his late rival who still cherished former animosities, and who anticipated the cardinal's arrival by a proclamation, in the king's name, forbidding the exercise of legantine power within the realm of England, as being incompatible with the " special privilege and custom used and observed from time to time, that a legate from the ajiostolic see shall enter this land, or any of the king's dominions, without the calling, petition, request, invitation, or desire of the king."^ In I4';i7, Cardinal Beaufort was appointed the pope's legate in Germany and general of the crusade then about to be undertaken against the Hussites in Bohe- mia. Of his success as a military leader, we have conflicting accounts. Polydore Virgil, assures us that he put a new face on atfairs which looked gloomy on his arrival, and tliat he returned home after having conducted a most successful campaign; but Aubery declares tliat he fully participated in the disgrace of the other leaders on the papal side, who were attacked and driven back with great loss by the Hussites ; and the account given by the last mentioned author seems to derive confirmation from the fact that he was recalled from Bohemia by the pope, who sent Cardinal Julian in his place with a larger army. In 1430, the cardinal accompanied King Henry into France, and bad the honour to perform the ceremony of crowning tlie young mon- arch in the church of Notre Dame at Paris. He was also present with the title of the king's principal counsellor at the conference of Arra^;, for concluding a peace between the kings of England and France. Meanwhile, the duke of Gloucester, nothing daunted by these obviou? ■* Citron, p. 691. ■■■ Fox's Acts and Monuments, p. ^49. Pkiuod.I BISHOP WAYNFLETfi. 4:?a marks of favour coiircrred upon his rival, pursued a course of bitter hostility towards the absent jirelate, and obtained several orders in council of a nature well calculated to deprive Beaufort of the king's favour. But his better influence prevailed, and, whether consciously guilty or not of the oflenees laid to his charge, we find him on the iJbtii of July 1437, obtaining a full pardon under the gri'at seal, for all offences by him committed from the creation of the world up to that date.^ In 144"2, (Jloucester, unwearied in his hostility towards the car- dinal, exhibited fresh articles of impeachment against him. The king referred the matter to his council; but no decisive steps were taken in consequence, and the prosecution died away. The rivalry of Beaufort and Gloucester only terminated with their lives, for the bishop survived his rival not above a month. He died on the 14th of June, 1447, and was buried in the cathedral church of Winchester. The greater part of his immense fortune he bequeathed to relio-ious and charitable purposes ; and if Harpsfield is to be credited, one of his donations consisted of the enormous sum of £400,000 to the prisons of London !'' His character was that of a haughty and am- bitious but skilful statesman ; deeply accomplished in all the mysteries of state intrigue, and little scrui)ulous in availing himself of every turn of fortune i'or his own personal aggrandizement. His talents were evidently of a high order ; and he always possessed great influence in the lower house of parliament. Various accounts have been given of the secret cause of dislike which from the first existed betwixt Beaufort and Gloucester; perhaps the simplest, which traces their bitter enmity to political rivalry alone, is the most correct. Beaufort has been charged with procuring the murder of his rival ; and on this alleged fact Shaksfjeare has founded the terrific death-bed scene in the second part of his Henry the Sixth. BOIIN A. D. 1395 (?).— DIED A. D. 1486. It is not clear whether Patten or Barbour was the proper family liame of this eminent prelate. The appellation of Waynflete was taken from the place of his birth, in Lincolnshire, and was first assumed when he went into orders. " It was a fashion," says Holinshetl, " in those days, from a learned spirituall man to take awaie the father's sur- name (were it never so worshipfull or ancient) and give him for it the name of the towne he was borne in." His father appears to have fol- lowed the profession, so highly respectable in those days, of a barber- surgeon. Chandler is indeed anxious to prove that the bishop's father was a gentleman by birth ; but we neither sympathise with the anxiety of the learned biographer, nor are we satisfied with his proofs on this point. The exact year of William's birth is not known. It appears from the registers of the see of Lincoln that he was made a sub-deacon in January, 1420, and a priest in 1426. We may conjecture, there- lore, that he was born towards the close of the 14th century. He was educated at Wykehani's school at Winchester, of which he was afterwards appointed master by Beaufort, bishop of Wineiiester. I. H I 434 ECCLESIASTICAL SERIES. [Thirl- His fii-st ecclesiastical preferment was the mastership of St Mary Mag- dalene s leper-hospital near Winchester, of which the ruins are still visi- ble. From his early connection with this establishment probably arose his attachment to the name, which he afterwards bestowed on his hall and college in Oxford. The ability he displayed in his mastership at Winchester, and the influence of Bekyngton, formerly his school-fel- low, and now a rising man at the court of Henry VI., procured for him the mastership, and subsequently the provostship, of the king's new school at Eton. This situation had, in the case of Stamberry, the first provost, led to a bishopric, and was destined again to effect a like elevation in Waynflete's favour. On the death of Cardinal Beaufort, in 1447, Waynflete obtained from the king the conge delire addressed to the chapter of Winchester, and was elected accordingly. Budden, who published a life of Waynflete in Latin, in 1602, drops a hint with respect to this and other preferments, that Waynflete " did not, per- haps, entirely abstain from availing himself of the power of illustrious persons," However this may be, his more recent biographer assures us, that when the ecclesiastical deputation from Winchester waited up- on him to announce his election, " from sincere reluctance, or a decent compliance with the fashion of the times, he protested often and with tears, and could not be prevailed on to undertake the important office to which he was called, until they found him about sun-set, in the church of St Mary ; when he consented, saying, he would no longer resist the Divine will." Waynfle+e held the see of Winchester through- out the remainder of his long life. In 1448 he obtained a royal grant empowering him to found and endow a hall at Oxford, which university was then in a very depressed state. In 1450, when the rebellion of Jack Cade burst forth, Wayn- flete retired to the nunnery of Holywell ; but on being summoned to confer with his sovereign at Canterbury, on the best means of quelling the insurrection, he instantly complied, and advised the issuing of a proclamation offering pardon to all concerned in the rising except Cade himself, in consequence of which the rebels dispersed, leaving their leader to his fate. Soon after this, our prelate, in conjunction with the bishop of Ely, acted as commissioners betwixt the king and Richard, duke of York, when that nobleman took up arms. In Octo- ber, 1433, Waynflete baptized the young prince of Wales, afterwards Edward IV. In October, 1456, after having been much employed in aflairs of state, he was advanced to the dignity of lord-high-chancellor, in the room of Bourchier, archbishop of Canterbury, which oftice, how- ever, he prudently resigned in July, 1460, before the fatal wreck of his royal master's fortunes in the battle of Northampton. His resignation nas been attributed to very unworthy motives, and he has been occa- sionally represented as trimming, in this and other instances, betwixt the rival parties of York and Lancaster ; but Henry himself, in a letter which he wrote to Pope Pius II., while in the custody of the Yorkists, expressly acquits his chancellor of all blame, and bears ample and vo- luntary testimony to the fidelity and skill with which Waynflete had at all times served him. That Waynflete conducted himself with consum- mate prudence throughout one of the most difficult and disastrous peri- ods of English history is clear, for he not only retained the confidence of his own Lancastrian party, but commanded the respect of the York Peiuod.J henry BRACTON. 435 isrj5, and evon appoars to liavo boen in favour with Edward IV., wlio roiifirined the grants made to his coUcge, ami added licenses of iiiort- inaiii. Bishop Waynflete died of a short hut vioh-nt illness on the 11th ol August, 1486, and was interred with great fiMUTal pomp in Winchester catiiedral, in a magnilieent sei)uleiiral chapi;! wliieh liud h(;en prepared for the purpose during his own lifetime, and which is kejjt in th<,' finest preservation by tlie society of Magdalene college. His will b(;queaths " his soul to Almighty God, the Virgin, Mary IMagdalene, and the patron-saints of his cathedral;" and, among sundry other arrang(!ments, enjoins on his executors " to cause five thousand masses, in honour of the five wounds of Christ, and the five joys of the Virgin Marj^ to b •. celebrated on the day of his burial, the trental of his obit, and other days, as soon as possible, for his soul, and the souls of his parents and friends." Waynflete was one of the prelates who sat in judgment upon Dr Reginald Pococke, bishop of Chichester, whose religious opinions had given offence to the church. On this occasion, the court was unanimous in condemning Pococke's doctrines, and enjoining him to recant and abjure them ; he was also oi'dered to remain in confincmenl in his own house, and his writings were directed to be burnt ; but in all these proceedings, Mr Lewis affirms, the archbishop Bourchier took a much more active share than Waynflete, though then filling the office of chancellor. Of the bishop's sincere attachment to the Romish ciiurch tiiere can be no doubt; but it has been justly remarked, tliat he did perhaps as much mischief to the popish cause by his zeal in the pro motion of learning, as all his other labours did it good. From the col- lege founded and endowed by him at Oxford, not a few powerful abet- tors of the Reformation were sent forth. III.— LITERARY SERIES. ^tnv}) Mvatton. FLOR. CIRC. A. n. 1250. Turs distinguished lawyer is said, by the most eminent antiquaries, to have been a native of Devonshire, and to have descended from a family of high respectability. The date of his birth is not stated, but he IS known to have .studied at Oxford, and to have gained considera- te reputation there for learning and ability. The lavv was that branch of knowledge which promised, in the age when he lived, the greatest rewards for diligence and ability, and to that accordingly he devoted himself. It was not, however, from skill in the civil law alone that wealth or distinction was now to be acquired in England, and when • Hymer's I'ted. p. G70. ■ Hist. Eccl(S. p. 643. 43 G LITERARY SERIES. [Third he look his degree of doctor, he was eminently versed in the cominon law, as well as in the more ancient branches of the science. Full of professional erudition, and accomplished in all the learning of the period, he in due time removed to London, where his abilities quickly brought fiim into general notice, and recommended him to the patronage of Henry the Third. The monarch finding how valuable his services might be rendered in the conduct of the state, used every means to retain him near his person, and for that purpose granted him the use of the earl of Darby's house, till the heirs of that deceased nobleman should occupy it themselves. In the twenty-ninth year of his reign, he still further manifested the respect with which he regarded him, by appointing him to the office of justiciary-itinerant. In this capacity he evinced a prudence and discernment which at length raised him to the eminent station of chief-justice, which he held above twenty years. The most unmingled praise is accorded him for the virtues as well as talent which he exhibited in the exercise of his functions, while occu- pying this important office. He so tempered, it is said, his justice and authority with equity and integrity, that he was one of the chief pil- lars of the commonwealth, in which he allowed no one to offend without punishment, and no one to do well without being rewarded. As an author, he is celebrated for having produced a work of great learning, entitled ' De Consuetudinibus Anglicanis,* or ' De Consuetu- dinibus et Legibus Anglise.' According to Bishop Nicholson, this production, like that of Lyttleton, was not printed till a considerable period after it had been received in the world as a valuable addition to the stock of legal literature. So numerous, indeed, were the marmscript copies which had been taken, that it was with the utmost difficulty the persons who undertook to edit it for the press could satisfy themselves in preparing the copy. Bishon Nicholson remarks that he must be pardoned his easy admission of the pope's supremacy, and his some- times naturalizing the canon as well as civil law, when we consider the time wherein he wrote, that it was done after King John had made a formal conveyance of his realm to the see of Rome, and when the greatest part of Europe was entirely under the pope's dominion. The passages that savour strong of the iniquity and vassalage of those unhappy days, are not many ; and there is that disagreeable obli- quity in them from the description of our true English government, that they are readily discerned to be preternatural and monstrous, Some idea may be formed of the work from these observations of the bishop. They also serve to point out the important use which might be made of such early treatises in the study of English history, and, consequent!}', the place which Bracton and other writers of a similar kind ought to occupy, even in a literary point of view, among the authors of the country. The period of Bracton's death is equally uncertain with that of his birth, nor is it known where he was buried, or what became of his fam- ily. His work has been frequently appealed to in times of political ex- citement. Milton, in his celebrated ' Defensio pro populo Anglicans,' quotea largely from it, to prove that when the king attempts to govern by his will and not by the law, he ceases to possess authority. A sim- ilar use, it is said, was made of the work by Bradshaw, when as presi- dent of the high court of justice he axidnssed the judges of Charles r*'"'""] ROBERT OF GLOUCESTER. 437 the First. It is plain, however, from passages in the work expressed in Janguagc of equal force, that it wa.s only to the most evident violation of the tenor by whieh the king reigns, that the opinions allu(U'd to re ter. In those places where mention is made of the royal prerogative, he speaks of it in the usual language of the times when he wrote. It may, therefore, be justly inferred that, imperfectly as the theory of government might then be understood by tlie generality of people, this emment civilian had formed very correct notions of the true balance whieh ought to be preserved between the several branches of the leiris- luture. ^ 2aol)rrt of <3lourti3ttr. Kl.OiJ. flRC. A. D. 1260. The origin and earliest condition of the language and the poetic li- terature of England fonn a subject full of interest and attraction for the antiquarian and the philologist, but do not offer much to engage the attention of the lover of poetry for its own sake. Before the com- mencement of the 14th century we had a few versifiers, but hardly any poet. The Chronicle of Robert of Gloucester, who probably flourished about the year 1260, is the first long work in verse which can properly be considered as written in the English dialect, at that time a barbarous and unregulated medley of Saxon and Norman, and hardly in truth fit for the purposes of composition at all. The poem in question is nothing more than a metrical version of the famous Latin history of Geoffrey of Monmouth, which had been previously trans- lated in like manner into Norman-French verse by Wace of Jersey, and into a species of degenerated Saxon by Layamon. There does not appear to be much in any one of these three popular imitations of the fabulous annalist indicative of any thing like poetic inspiration ; nor can we speak in greatly more flattering terms of the subsequent production of Robert Mannyng, or De Brunne, a fourth translator from the same favourite original, who is conjectured to have written about the close of the 13th century, and the most remarkable characteristic of whose conqiositions is merely an apparent ease and fluency of versification, which, however, it is agreeable to remark, were it only as evidencin'^ the somewhat improved state to wluch the language had even already attained. Few or no materials exist to throw any light on the personal history of Roljert of Gloucester, or on that of many of his contemporaries. Neither Bale nor Pits, those two laborious biographers of the fathers of our literature, make any mention of him. Selden has determined that he lived in the reign of Edward I. Other antiquaries have also discov- ered that he was a monk of Gloucester, and the learned Thomas Hcarne supposes that he was sent to Oxford by the directors of the -rreat abbey of Gloucester, to take care of the youth whom they plact-dhi that uni- versity. The same writer says that he seems to have occupied an old house on the west side of the Stockwell-street, and on the site of which wajS aftcTwards built Worcester college, originally called Gloucester bail Much labour has been expended in endeavoMrs to discover the 438 LITERARY SERIES. [Third surname of the monk, and the remarks of Hearne upon the subject show with what care that zealous antiquary exerted himself in elucidat- ing every question relating to his favourite author. The result of h'm inquiries was, that his name is not to be found in either an ancient or modern hand in the Harleian manuscripts; that it appears only once in the Cottonian collection, and that without the surname ; and that no previous antiquary seems to have been acquainted with him by any other appellation than that of Robert of Gloucester. It is supposed that his surname began to be disused after he attained notice as a writer, and from this circumstance it is inferred that he must have enjoyed, among his cotemporaries, his ordinary share of celebrity. " That his fame was very great," says Hearne, " may appear from hence, that though many Robert of Gloucesters are met with in old registers, yet, as far as we can learn, they were all eclipsed by the historian, the acts of all of them put together being not equal to what he hath done by compiling this work." Of the merits of the chronicler as a poet, Hearne prudently forbears, with all his zeal and veneration, to say much. But his authority is of weight in whatever concerns our an- cient literature, and he boldly asserts, that of all books likely to prove useful in the study of the Saxon tongue, none is so valuable as the chronicle of Robert of Gloucester. Declining also, as he does, to compare him with Chaucer, in respect to poetical merit, he claims for him the honour of being the first of English writers. " He, and not Chaucer," says he, " as Dr Fuller and some others would have it, is the genius of the English nation, and he is, on that account, to be as much respected as ever Ennius himself was among the Romans, and I have good reason to think that he will be so by friends to our antiqui- ties and our old history." 'Tis the genius of the age that is to be re- garded in such pieces of poetry. The poetry of those times consisted of rhythms both here and in other countries, and the poets thought they had done their parts well, if their rhythms, however mean other- wise, related matter of fact, and were agreeable to truth. Fuller, in the mention he has made of Robert of Gloucester among the other wor- thies of England, observes in his usual quaint but forcible style, " they speak truly who term him a rhymer, whilst such speak courteously who call him a poet. Indeed, such his language, that he is dumb in effect to the readers of this our age, without an interpreter, and such a one will hardly be procured. Antiquaries, among whom Mr Selden, more value him for his history than poetry, his lines being neither strong nor smooth, but sometimes sharp." Camden, however, speaks more favourably of his poetry, and contends, like his editor Hearne, for the merit of his verses on the plea of their being thoroughly English. " Old Robert of Gloucester," says he, " in the time of King Henry the Third, honoured his country with these his best English rimes, which, I doubt not, but some, (although most now are of the new cut,) will give the reading." The lines he quotes will afford as good a sample, perhaps, of his Chronicle, the only work he is known to have written, as could be selected. — England is a well good land, in the stead best Set in the one end of the world, and leigneth west. The Fea goeth him all about, he stint as an yle, Of foes it need the lesse doubt } but it be through glle I'icRioD.] E0I5ERT OF GLOUCESTER. 439 Of folke of tlie self liiiul, as mc halli I sey while From soiitli to iioilh il is loiifj, cisliL liuiidied mile Ami two huiulrc'd mill! broad from oust to west to wend. Amid the land as it mij;ht be, and not as in the one end, I'ientic niLii may in Kii^land of all good see, Jiut fiilUe it ai;nll, other ) lares the worse and worse be. l-'or England is full enough of friiile and of treeiie, Of woods and of parks that joy it is to scene. The principal cities at-e tlius briefly characterized : — In the eomitrey of Canterbury, most |)lenty of lish is. And mostehase of wilde beasts about Salisbury Irvis. And London ships most, and wine at Winchester. At Hartford sheep and oxe, and fruite at Worcester. Soape about Coventry, and yron at Glocester. Metall, lead, and tinne, in the countrey of Exeter, Kvorwicke of fairest wood, Lincohie of fairest men. CJambridge and Huntinnton most plenty of deep venne. Elie of fairest place ; of fairest sight Rochester. " Far short," it is shrewdly observed, " was he that woidd comprise the excellencies of England in this one verse :" — Monies, fontes, pontes, eccles{cE,/e mince, lana. Mountains, fountains, bridges, churches, women and wool. It was more, however, owing perhaps to the naturally staid tempera- ment of Robert himself, than to the taste of the age, that his poetry exhibited so few marks of vigour or imagination. Between the period when he flourished and that when the verses were written which ex- hibit so many traces of fancy, there had elapsed about fifty or sixty years. In that time, the people had been gradually acquiring a greater degree of freedom, and consequently of knowledge and refinement. What is still further to the purpose, there were in existence when this dry chronicle of facts was produced, a variety of chivalrous ballads and romances, remarkable for the strangeness of their fictions, and their unlicensed freedom of imagery. That such must have been in circu- lation at the time, we may fairly believe, when we consider the state of manners and tlie events which were then engrossing the thoughts of almost every individual in the kingdom. The crusades had just filled the world with the spirit of enthusiasm and adventure. Consequent oa this were a train of new and more strongly excited sympathies than had ever before agitated the minds of men in general. Devotion led some, the love of novelty others, to undertake the perilous enterprize ; but whatever was the motive which sent them to the plains of Syria, their course was contemplated by those they left behind with an intense and breathless emotion. Hence poetry would naturally strain every nerve to depict the virtues of the soldiers of the cross : would rejoice in relating their varied fortunes, in proving how well they deserved the applause or the tears which every heart was readj^ to bestow. But of the poetry vviiich celebrated the grandeur of chivalry and the worth of its professors, few examples remain, few at least that can be ascribed to the age ot which we are speaking. When we consider, says Warton, " the feudal manners, and tlie magnificence of our Norman ancestors, their love of military glory, and the enthusiasm with which they engaged in the crusades, and the wonders to which they must have been familiarized 440 LITERARY SERIES. [Third from those eastern enterprises, we naturally suppose, what will here- after be more particularly proved, that their retinues abounded with minstrels and harpers, and that their chief entertainment was to listen to the recital of romantic and martial adventures." " But," continues the historian, " I have been much disappointed in my searches after tlie metrical tales which must have prevailed in their times. Most of those old heroic songs have perished, together with the stately castles in whose halls they were sung." We cannot, tlierefore, tell from an examination of the originals, what was the precise character of the old songs of English chivalry, but the substance of them, it is supposed, was wrought into the metrical romances of which so many specimens still remain, and most of which are strikingly opposed in character to the work of Robert of Gloucester. It is evident, therefore, that there were now in vogue two very distinct species of poetry, and it is not im- probable, but that it was owing to this circumstance that the poetry of tlie next age possessed such high and genuine merit. The unambitious chroniclers, who so readily sacrificed every sparkling of fancy to the plain narrative of facts, — who were only desirous of being historians in rliyme, because in that form they would be more generally read, and the facts they related better remembered, — the writers of this class^did, there is little doubt, important service to the poetical literature of the country, by teaching the people to regard verse as a fit medium for regular and sustained narrative, and thereby to look for those species of poetry in which fiction is imitative of reality, and the likenesses un- broken by any thing heterogeneous in the medium through which we see them. The obscurity which attends the personal fortunes and character of Robert of Gloucester pertains to most of the names which occur in the literary history of this period. There is not even a traditional lustre tx) attract the attention of the antiquarian to their fates. But it is in this as in other cases: the Avant of biographical materials is in great measure compensated for by tlie historical interest attached to the compositions of these obscure writers, and it is to that consequently, even the student of biography, when he passes a certain line in the annals of either this or any other nation, will chiefly direct his thoughts FLOR. CIRC. A. D. 1270. This writer, like Robert of Gloucester, with whom he was eotem- porary, was a monk, and belonged to the monastery of Brunne, or Bourne, near Depyng in Lincolnshire, of which he was a Gilbc;rtine canon. A passage occurs in one of his poems, in whicli he alludes to his early education, and, according to the interpretation of Mr Ellis, it may be decided therefrom, that lie was a native of Malton, and noui - ished as late as the reign of Edward the Third, The lines are: — In the Third Edward's time was I, When I wrote all this stdrey. In tlie hoa-ie of Sixille I was a throwe, I tun Rol)ert of Malton that ye know. PF.iann] ROBERT MANNYNG. 441 Did it write for fellows' sake, Wiieii thai willcil solafo make. Ho appears to have occujjumI a somewhat conspicuous station among the writm's of his age, and Ilearne ol)sorv(!S, tliat it is prohable lie as- sumed tiio apjjelhition of Do Brunne, choosing to let his proper sur- name fall into forgctfulness, in imitation of Robert of Gloucester. It was not, however, only in this respect that he followed tiie cxamj)Ie of that author. His principal work is a metrical history, or chronicli' of England. But, according to the testimony of the most ingenious antiquaries, the former part of this poem is a mere translation of a French romance, entitled ' Roman dc Rois d'Angleterre,' ' or Brut d'Angleterre ;' and it is a circumstance not unworthy of attention, that the version is made in the exact measure of the original. The prologue also is in perfect accortlance with the style of similar addresses, as they are found in the Orlando Innamorato of Boiardo, and other Italian romantic poets. — Lordynges that be now here, It" \e wille listene and lore, All the story of In>;laiiile, Als Robert Maiinyiig wryteii it faiul, And on Inglysh lias it si'liewed, Not for the lered but for the lewed ; For I ho that oti this loud wonu That the Latin ne Fianky's conn, For to half solace and ganien In felauschip when tlia sitt sanicn. And it is wisdom forto wyttcn The state of the land, and hef it wrjtien, VVliat manere of lolk first it wan, And of what kind it first began. The Chronicler then proceeds to relate, with great seriousness, all the events which happened in this country from the time of ' Sir Noe,' unto Eneas ; from Eneas unto Brutus ; and from Brutus to Cadwela- dres. In doing which, he professes to show in respect to these kings— Whilk wei'e foles, and whilk were wyse. And whilk of them couth most quantyse ; And whilk did wrong, and wliilk ryght, And whilk mayntaned pes and fyght. On completing that portion of the poem of which the divisions are thus laid down, the author leaves the Brut d'Angleterre, and draws his materials from another French work, which, it is remarkable enough, iiad been written a few years before by a canon of the monastery of Bridlington in Yorkshire. The name of this author was Peter Lang- toft, and his chronicle, which consists of live books, is written in Alex- andrines, a measure which was long one of the most admired species of verse both in France and England. Robert de Brunne, who was a most faithful translator, imitated his style as closely as he did that of Waco, the author of the Brut d'Angleterre, and the second part of his poem accordingly is in Alexandrines. Warton, has observed that he had little more poetry in him than Robert of Gloucester ; but has add- ed, as some apology for him, that he has acquainted his readers that he avoided high description and the usual phraseology of the minstrels 1. 3 k 442 LITERARY SERIES. [Tuird and harpers of his time. His lines on the subject give a good idea <»f the state of the language at the period : — I mad noght for no disours, Ne for scggers no harpoiirs, Bot for the luf of sjmple men, I'liat strange Iiiglis cannot ken. For many it ere that strange Inglis In rynie wate never what it is. I made it not for to be praysed, Bot at the lewed men were aysed. But Robert de Brunne did not confine his labours to these historical subjects : he also translated the treatise written in French by the cele-^ brated Grostliead, bishop of Lincoln, entitled ' Manuel de Peche,' or ' Manual of Sins ;' a work which throws some singular light on the religious notions of the age and on the modes in which they were dis- jeniinated. Robert himself tells us that he translated it to furnish men with amusement, " for gamys and festys at the ale," wh(>n they love to listen to tales and rhymes. The most serious moral injunctions are, therefore, accompanied in this work, with numerous romantic legends, and Bishop Grosthead himself is represented as having his harper lodged in a chamber next his own, as employing his skill by night and day, and answering a person who inquired ' Why he held the harper so dear ?' that, — The virtu of the harpe, thiirgh skyle and ryght, Wyll destrye the fendys niyglit; And to the cros by gode skyile Ys the harpe lykened we)l. The other work of Robert de Brunne was a translation of the trea- tise of Cardinal Bonaventura, the title of which, in the version of our author, is ' Medytaciuns of the Soper of our Lorde Jhesu, and also of hys Passyun, and eke of the Peynes of hys swete Modyr mayden Marye, the whyche made yn Latyn Bonaventure Cardynall.' Warton's opinion that Robert was nothing more than a translator, has been controverted by the learned editor of the History of English Poetry, who observes that he generally enlarges the moral precepts of the original, introduces occasional illustrations of his own, and sometimes avails himself of other authorities than those employed by this writer whom he chiefly follows. The same remark may also be made in respect to this writer, which was made in the notice of Robert of Gloucester. Notwithstanding his want of fancy, he was instru- mental in improving the poetical literature of the country, by intro- ducing a more regular species of metrical narrative than has hitherto been known ; to which may be added, that he deserves very high praise for having discernment enough to adapt his productions to that class of persons whom it was most beneficial and necessary to inspire with a taste for literature. Adam Davie, who is commonly mentioned as the next of our poets, appears to have been nearly contemporary with De Brunne, and may perhaps be considered as rather his superior both in elegance and spirit. Laurence Minot, whose works had been entirely forgotten till they were accidentally discovered by the late Mr Tyrrwhitt, while I'MuoD.J JOHN DUNS SCOTUS. 443 collecting materials for his admirable edition of Chaucer's Canterbury Tales, wrote about half a century afterwards a series of poems on the principal events of the reign of Edward III., wiiich have been very veheuieiitly lauded by the learn(Hl but eccentric Mr Ritson, to whom the world is indebted for tiieir first appearance from tiie press. He writes with very considerablt! vigour and animation, and has upon the whole a good deal more about him of the true poet than any of his predecessors. Soijn iDuiTS pectus, BORN A. D. 126G DIEU A. I). 1308. Tins famous scholastic doctor was born towards the close of the thirteenth century, in the north of England, or, as some are of opinion, in Scotland. At this time, the Aristotelian logic enjoyed very great popularity and authority. It was also the age in which the several recently established orders of mendicant friars were in the very height of their reputation. These were four in number, the Dominicans, or Black friars, called also Friars preachers ; the Carmelites or White friars ; the Augustins, or Grey friars, as they were called, from the colour of their principal robe ; and the Franciscans, also called Grey friars, for the same reasons, or Cordeliers, in allusion to the cord which they wore as a belt, or Minorites, that is inferiors, a title they were fond of giving themselves, in affectation of extreme humility. Of the four orders, the Franciscans and Dominicans were by far the most celebrated. The different associations of mendicant friars took their rise about the beginning of the thirteenth century, when the establish- ments of the regular monks, in consequence of the large revenues of which they had become possessed, having generally fallen into a state of extreme disorder, dissoluteness, and inefiiciency, the church felt the necessity of endeavouring to keep alive the attachment of the people, by means of a new description of religious labourers, constituted upon principles which would insure in them at least an extraordinary activity, and all that show of zeal, by which the popular applause is most apt to be gained. The mendicant orders were accordingly established, and the experiment was attended with even more tlian the expected success. The new ascetics neglected nothing by which they might draw to them- selves the favour and reverence of the multitude; and among tlie means to which they resorted for this purpose, none produced a more remark- able effect than the ardour with which they devoted themselves to literature, and the celebrity which, in consequence, they speedily ac- quired, for their skill in the frivolous pursuits then known by the name of learning. They had begun, in particular, even before the time of Duns Scotus, to api)ly themselves with great eagerness to the study of tliat disputatious philosophy which had been raised on the basis of the logical and metaphysical writings of Aristotle ; and an active rivalry had already arisen, in regard to their respective pretensions in this department of erudition, between the Franciscans and the Dominicans, — the former counting among tlu'ir number the serajihic Doctor Hona- vtntura, and the irrefragable Alexander Hales, — while the latter boasted 414 LITERAEY SERIES. [Thikd of their Albert the great, and the angelical St Thomas Aquinas ; these strange epithets being titles which had been solemnly conferred in some cases by the universities, along with their degrees, upon the individuals in question. It was destined for Dans, however, to become eventually the greatest gl ory of the Franciscans, among whom he was first introduced, if we may believe the story that is told by two brethren of the order, who found him tending his father's cows, and were so much struck, with his intelligence, that they requested his father to allow them to take him along with them to their monastery in the neigh- bourhood, that so promising a genius might be duly reared up to the service of the church. The proof, indeed, which the legend informs us he gave of his capacity, was no mean one ; for the good friars, it seems, finding the boy quite destitute of religious knowledge, and having there- upon resolved to attempt teaching him the Lord's Prayer, were con- founded by his repeating the whole to them, without a blunder, after only once hearing it. We are not sure, however, that this anecdote is quite reconcileable with another still more marvellous, which is also told respecting the youth of this great doctor : namely, that he was originally very stupid and slow of apprehension, a circumstance which gave him great distress, till, having one day taken it into his head to - address himself very earnestly in prayer, upon the subject, to the Virgin Mary, she condescended to apjjear, and enter into conversation with him, promising that she would wonderfully illuminate his understanding, if he would only engage to devote his powers to her service ; upon con- senting to which condition, he found himself accordingly endowed, on the instant, with the I'are talents of which his future career gave such splendid proof.' Such of the biographers of Scotus as are for our believ- ing both of these stories, hold that the adventure of the interview with the Virgin must have happened previously to that with the friars ; while those who are willing to give up one of them, to save the credit of the other, pass over in silence the proof young Duns is said to have af- forded of his extraordinary memory ; the anecdote of his obligations to, and compact with, the Virgin, being one they will by no means part with. Indeed this notion of his having enjoyed the peculiar favour of Mary colours neai'ly the whole narrative of his life, as commonly told. After remaining for some time in the Franciscan monastery — the locality of which, we may remark, by the by, is not very clearly settled, it being doubtful whether it was in England, Scotland, or Ireland — he was removed to the university of Oxford. Here he soon distinguished himself by his ardour and proficiency in all the studies of the place, but particularly by so unrivalled a skill in logical and metaphysical quibbling, that he gained for himself the name of the Sophist, and was by many, we are told, already esteemed a greater philosopher than Aristotle him- self. After a time he commenced the public teaching of his favourite sciences, and speedily attained such extraordinary celebrity, that pupils absolutely flocked to him in mobs. We are assured by various autho- rities, that his lectures used to be attended by thirty thousand auditors I But in regard to this matter, there is probably a great deal of truth in Anthony Wood's explanation, v/ho tells us, tliat ot this immense multi- tude many were merely " varlets, who, pretending to be scholars, ' An ancrdole very similar to this, we may just remark, is alsu told of AIjcHus Mag- nus, ^^llo flourislied u short time l)et'(jre Duns Scotus. I'KiiioD.J JOHN DUNS SCOTUS. 445 shufHod tlunisclves in, and did act much villany in the university, by tliicving," and other irrcguhiritics wliich ho nanu's; aihlinjr, " they liveii uufk-r no discipline, neith(;r had any tutors, but oidy for fashion's sake, woukl sonictinu's tlu'ust tiicnisclvcs into tlie scliools at ordinary lectures, and, wiien they went to perform any niis(;hief, then would be accounted scholars, that so they might free thiMuselves from the Jurisdiction of the burghers." Tiu; number of students at this time at the university of IJoiogna, is stated to liave been ten thousand ; and, in 1453, a contem- porary writer relates that there were twenty-five thousand at tiiat of Paris. The most memorable event in the life of Duns, took place on occa- sion of a visit he made to Paris, during the period of his residence at Oxford. Remendjering, wt; may suppose, his pronuse to tiie Virgin, in whose; honour he had already written doughtily and largely, he de- termined to make his appearance in the French cajjital, to defend against all oppugners the celebrated article of faith touching her alleged free- dom from original sin, of which he has sometimes even been accounted the first deviser and promulgator. A day having been accordingly ap])ointed, for a public disputation on the subject, before the university, Duns presented himself; and never was known any thing more admir- able than the skill with which he encountered alone a host of ojjponents, jr more splendid than his triumph. He allowed the adverse party, in the first place, to state their case without interruption ; and it may give the reader some idea of the fertility of the scholastic logic, when he is informed that, upon this occasion, the single point which had to be made out was supported, on the part of these ingenious reasoners, by just two hundred arguments ! At last, when tiioy had confessed them- selves, as well they nught, after such an expenditure, fairly exhausted, the redoubtable Duns, nothing dismayed, rose in his turn ; and, won- derful as it may seem, is said to have actually gone over, without ever /lesitating for a moment, the whole two hundretl arguments, in the order in which they had been stated, and, when he had completely demolished them, one after another, to have concluded with such a cloud of alto- gether irrefutable ones, in favour of his own side of the question, that all present were converted to his opinion, and he was unanimously de- clared to have placed the matter for ever beyond the reach of contro- versy. He is described by an eye-witness, Pelbartus a Temeswar, to have, on this occasion, " snapped the knottiest syllogisms, as Sampson (lid the bonds of Delilah." He was immediately graduated by the title of ' the subtle doctor ;' and an order of the university was passed, that no one should in future be admitted to any degree whatever, without previously swearing to defend the doctrine which had thus been so triumphantly established. Such, at least, is the story told by the dif- ferent writers, who, in more recent times, have attempted to collect the particulars of the life of Scotus. But it is not a little curious that in the subtle doctor's own commentary on the Sentences of Peter the Lombard, we find him delivering his opinion upon the subject in ques- tion, in terms very ditferent from what this statement woukl lead us to expect. Instead of any decisive assertion of the doctrine which he has the credit of having so victoriously vindicated, his language here is that of ignorance and doubt. " The probability," he says, " is rather in favour of the Virgin having been conceived wit/iout original sin, but the 446 LITERARY SERIES. TTruRD author determines nothing : " " Conclusio est negativa, si placet^ nihil enim determinat auctor." (p. 262). What makes Duns's hesitation on this occasion the more remarkable is, that it is, as tar as we have ob- served, the only instance in which he has the modesty to confess himself in doubt throughout the volume. The learned Luke Wadding, a Spanish Franciscan, but an Irishman by birth, who writes a lite of Duns Scotus, tells us, with all imaginable gravity, tliat, as Duns was proceeding along one of the streets of Paris, on his way to this famous disputation, he came up to a certain image of the Virgin, and kneeling down before it, begged for aid and support from his celestial patroness, in the combat he was about to wage in her cause, upon which the image actually answered him by nodding its head. A fact, adds the historian, which it is impossible to doubt, since any one who will take the trouble of going to Paris, may behold the image with its head still inclined, in perpetual conmiemoration and testimony of the miracle I One wonders to read such a passage as this, in a work written about the middle of the seventeenth century ; but the same tale is repeated, with equal gravity, even by subsequent writers.^ Wadding, by-the-by, labours hard to prove Scotus to have been an Irishman, — a theory which his common designation by no means re- futes, since the name of Scotland was at one time given to Ireland, as well as to the northern part of Britain. He acknowledges, however, that the matter is by no means perfectly clear, quaintly remarking, thai " the subtlety of Duns may be said to have conmienced even before his birth, since no one has yet been able to track him to his first ap- pearance in our world." An old English translator of one of his smaller works,^ who contends strenuously that he was born south of the Tweed, advances a theory of his own in explanation of the epithet Scotus, or Scot, which he maintains is merely a corruption of the word Cot, the name being originally and properly Duns-cot, after som6 village so called in Northumberland. This writer dedicates his work to a Mr Dunce, a north-county squire, whom he affirms to be of the same family that produced the subtle doctor. We do not know whether any remnant of the race is still to be found in those parts. While upon this subject, too, we may mention that Duns Scotus is supposed by many to have the honour of being the true parent of the common Eng- lish dunce, the synonyme of dolt or blockhead, the term having been applied to his followers, the Scotists, as an epitliet of opprobrium, by their opponents, the Thomists, or disciples of St Thomas Aquinas. Some time after this disputation. Duns took a final leave of Oxford, and set- tled at Paris, continuing his duties as a professor in the university there, and teaching with undiminished applause. When he had resid- ed, however, in that city only about a year, as he was one day walking, attended by several of his pupils, in a field in the neighbourhood, a letter was put into his hands from the general or principal of the re- ligious order to which he belonged, commanding his presence imme- diately at Cologne. Without even returning to the city to collect his books, or bid adieu to his friends, he set out on his journey on the instant. It was in his usual mendicant attire, barefooted, and in rags, and with that cord about his waist which, as one of the poets of ihe ' See Life by ('olg.'iiius, Antwerp, 1655. " Idiota's, or Duns' ('"'itemulatioiis of Divine Love, Puiis, 1G02. . I'EKioD.J WILLIAM OCCAM. 447 day expresses it, was his kiiij^ly crown, that tliis extraordinary frrwiiiis a[){)roachecl the gates of Cologne;, wliere he wa-s met by ;i soh-inn pro- eession of the clergy and tlie magistrates, atteiid(;d by an immense eon- course of people of all degrees, and, bcjiiig placed in a triumi)iiaJ char- iot, was welcomed to the city, even, says one; of his historians, as Plato of old was welcomed to Syracuse by his royal friend Dionysius. At Cologne, as formerly at Oxford and Paris, pupils crowded around him from all parts; but his brilliant career was now rapidly drawing to a clos(>. One day after he had been exerting himself in teaeliing, lie was suddenly struck with apoplexy, which proved fatal in the coarse of a few hours ; and thus perished, in his forty-second, or, as other aceouiiLs say, in his thirty-fourth year, the man who had, even at that early pe- riod of life, already attained to be universally reputed, both for genius, learning, and piety, the wonder and chief glory of his age. Wadding has published an edition of the works of Duns Scotus, wiiich extends to twelve thick volumes in folio — an amazing mass of literary labour to have been accomplished in so short a life. His admirers extol his genius as of unrivalled acuteness ; and there can be no question that, both for talent and erudition, he was one of the most remarkable of that very remarkable class of men to which he belongs. He lived dur- ing the very height and fury of the scholastic mania ; and his works, accordingly, present a picture of the disputatious temper of the philo- sophy which he cultivated in all its extravagance. But still there is the inspiration of an active and penetrating intellect in many of his concep- tions, which shows what he might have performed, had he been born in a more fortunate age. As it was, not only his contemporaries, but many succeeding generations, looked upon him as one of the greatest men that had ever appeared. Many of his followers, in the church especially, although he was never canonized, regarded his memory with the veneration usually paid to that of a saint ; and Baptista Mantuanus, in one of his epigrams, goes so far as to say of him, that, for his ser- vices to the faith, both religion and God himself are debtors to Scotus. A complete copy of the twelve volumes of his works, published by Wadding, is an extremely rare collection. BORN CIRC. A. I). \2-i.) DIKU A. O. 13.50, The must distinguished of the disciples of Scotus was William Occam, born at Ockharn in Surrey about the year 1280.' While yet a youth he entered into the order of St Francis, and prosecuted his studies witii great vigour and success, first at Oxford, and afterwards at Paris. In both Ihese universities, he enjoyed the opportunity of hearing the scholastic prelections of Scotus, many of whose opinions he retained through life, and amongst others, the position which makes the distinction of right from wrong dei)end on the will of the supreme Being. But he by no means reposed implicit faith in all the doctrines of his illustrious nuister Ou the contrary, he expressly avowed his determination to rejeel ' Briickeri Hist. Pliil. iii. 8^6. 4 is LITERARY SERIES. rTiiiti; human autliority, even that of his master, whenever any doctrine ap- peared to him repugnant to reason: "I do not support this opinion," says he, " because he lays it down, but because I think it true, and therefore, if he has elsewhere maintained the opposite, I care not." This language, it has been justly observed, " now so trivial that no slave can disclaim it, and every schoolboy would think it too common- place to be repeated, was, in the fourteenth century, far more important than the most brilliant discoveries, and contained the germ of all refor- mation in philosophy and religion. Luther and Bacon were actuated by no other pi'inciple in the deliverance of the human understanding.' Tlie principal question upon which Occam opposed his master Scotus was that concerning universals as they were called. He held that the words which are called universal, are to be considered as signs which equally indicate any one out of many particular objects. " This opin- ion," says one of the most accomplished metaphysicians of the present age in his review of Stewart's Introduction to the Encyclopaedia, "was revived by Hobbes, Berkeley, Hume, Hartley, and Condillac ; abused with great ingenuity by Home Tooke ; and followed by Mr Stewart, who has on this occasion made common cause with philosophers in whose ranks he is not usually found. Few metaphysical speculations have been represented as more important by its supporters and oppo- ^ nents. Perhaps, however, when the terms are explained, and when the darkness is dissipated with which controversy never fails to cloud a long contested question, it may appear that this subject has not yet been examined on true principles. But whatever may be the future fate of the controversy, it cannot be denied, that the reasonings in de- fence of Nominalism are stated with singular ingenuity, and even per- spicuity, in the passages of Occam w-hich now lie before us. Among many other observations, perfectly unlike his age, we find him limiting the philoso|)hy ot the human mind to what can be known by experience of its operations, and utterly excluding all questions relating to the nature of the tiiinking principle. ' We are conscious that we under- stand and will; but whether these acts be performed by an immaterial and incorruptible principle, is a matter of which we are not conscious, and which is no farther the subject of demonstration than it can be known by experience. All attempts to prove it must be founded on the assumption of something doubtful.' But the most remarkable ol all the reasonings of this original thinker, are those which he employs against the then received doctrine ' of sensible and intelligible species' (or appearances) of things which are the immediate objects of the mind when we perceive or think. These images or likenesses of objects alone, were sujjposed to be contemplated by the senses and the understand- ing, and to be necessary to perception and mental apprehension. Biel, a follower of Occam, in expounding the doctrine of his master, tells us, that ' a species was the similitude or image of a thing known, naturally remaining in the mind after it ceases to be the object of actual know- ledge; or otherwise, that likeness of a thing, which is a previous con- dition of knowledge, wiiich excites knowledge in the understanding, and which may remain in the mind in the absence of the thing repre- sented.'* The supposed necessity of such species, moving from the " tfiibriel BiijI, ii. Sunt, in Tuiin. Period.] WILLIAM OCCAM. 449 object to tlie organ of sense, is, according to Occam, founded on the assununl principle, that what moves must be in contact with what is nioveii. But tiiis principle he asserts to be false; and he thiuks it sufficiently disproved by the fact, that the loadstone attracts iron to without touching it. He thought nothing necessary to sensation but the power of sensation, and the thiiig whicii is its object. All interme- diate beings he regarded as arbitrary ligmenLs. We cannot pursue these quotations farther. It is easy to conceive his application of a similar mode of reasoning to 'the intelligible sjweies,' which, indeed, lu* who denied abstract ideas, had already virtually rejected. It is plain, indeed, that Occam denied both parts of this opinion; not only that which is called Aristotelian, concerning the species supposed to move from outward objects to the organs of sense : but also that which, under the name of the Ideal theory, has been imputed by Dr Reid and Mr Stewart to Descartes, and all succeeding philosophers, who are consi. dered as teaching the actual resemblance of our thoughts to external things, and thereby laying their philosophy open to the inferences after- wards made from it by Berkeley about the origin of our perceptions, and by Hume against the possibility of knowledge. The philosoj)hical reader will be struck with the connexion between this rejection of ' images or likenesses of things' as necessary to perception ; and the principle, that we know nothing of mind but its actions ; and cannot tail, in a system of reasoning of which these are specimens, illustrated by an observation of the less observed appearances of outward nature, and animated b}^ a disregard of authority in the search for truth, to perceive tendencies towards an independent philosophy, to be one day built by reason upon a wide foundation of experience." Occam took a conspicuous part in those violent disputes which agi- tated the church during the pontificate of John XXII. from 1316 to 1334. He opposed the ambitious pretensions of the pope, and de- fended generally the rights of the civil magistrate against the usurped prerogatives of the church, with great spirit and success. In 1322, he was chosen provincial of the Fi'anciscans in England, and afterwards definitor of the whole order of St Francis, in which latter capacity he was present at the general chapter held at Perusium in Tuscan}', where he boldly defended the principles of the ' spiritual brethren,' as they were called, w hich the pope had condemned as heretical by two solemn de- crees.^ He also impugned with much vehemence a favourite opmion of John XXII, that the souls of good men are not admitted to the beatific vision and full happiness of heaven until after the resurrection. For such contumacious conduct, the holy father cited him to Rome, but in- stead of obeymg the summons, Occam took shelter at the court ol Lewis of Bavaria, who had himself been deposed and excommunicated by the pope, and who received his fellow in misfortune in a very gracious manner. In this retirement Occam composed several of his works, particularly his compendium of the heresies of Pope John, of which he enumerated no fewer than seventy-seven.* He also published several treatises in defence of his patron, and against that maxim of the pa])al court, first promulgated by Boniface VIII. in 1301, that "all emperors, kings, and princes, are subject to the supreme authority of thi- iiope; ' Dupiii, ceiit. xiv. * Taiiiiur, p. 535. I. 3 L 450 LITERARY SERIES. [TmRU and that in temporals as well as spirituals." His works against the papal authority are represented by Selden as '-the best that had been written in former ages on the ecclesiastical power." During the life of the emperor, Occam defied the rage of three suc- cessive pontiffs; but on the death of Lewis in 1347, he no longer fomid himself in a capacity to brave the papal thunders, and was constramed to make his peace with the church by many humiliating concessions By the interest of the Franciscans, he obtained absolution for all past offences from Clement VI.; but he did not long survive his abjuration of those opinions which it had been the great object of his life to establish and promulgate. He died at Capua in Italy, on the 20th of Septem- ber 1350. His writings are voluminous but scarce. An account of them is given in Tenneman's ' History of Philosophy,' vol. viii. part '^. published at Leipsic in 1811. Maltn- Burleitri), n.oR. ciuc. A. D. 1320. Among the men of extraordinary ability who flourished in the age when the passion for scholastic learning was at its height, Burleigh holds a conspicuous station. Little is known of his early life, or of the methods he pursued in attaining that high rank to which he rose in the learned world. It appears to have been one of the peculiarities of the period, that only men of a certain turn or habit of mind had a chance of making their way to eminence. The rigid forms of study and rea- soning to which intellects of every degree of strength, and every char- acter, were subjected, tended to destroy all those tenderer germs of original thought, which though not essential perhaps to the existence of truth, give so much grace and beauty to the whole intellectual world. Few things are better adapted to prove the power of individual peculi- arities over external force than the variety of styles which may be seen in the writings of the most devoted disciples of Aristotle : but it was only men of the hardiest minds that could endure the discipline they nad to undergo ; the rest shrunk, withered into useless weeds, and even those vlio lived through the process, appeared possessed rather of a strong rigidity, than a genial, living strength. Burleigh was one of the few who succeeded in retaining somewhat of his natural character, and '>')ioyed among his cotemporaries the singular honour of being named 'the perspicuous doctor'. He studied first at Oxford, and then at Paris, where he was a fellow-pupil with Occam in the school of Duns Scotus. On his return to England, he became a most determined opponent ot the system of his master, and acquired a reputation for acuteuess and learning, which recommended him to the notice of Edward the Third, of whom he was for some time the preceptor. There were few branches of literature or science on which his fruitful mind had not been emplo}!- ed. Logic and metaphysics, in which he chiefly excelled, did not pre- vent his becoming noted for his skill in natural philosophy, on the one hand, and his profound acquaintance with theology on the other. His Works consequently embrace a vast variety of subjects ; but his prinei- Pkrioo.] JOHN OF r.ADDESDEN. 451 pal ])ioductions are in the form of commentaries on the metaphysical and ethical works of Aristoth;. The list of these treatises affords a re- markable evide-nce of the laborious attention with which the scholars of tliis age pursued their painful and abstruse labours ; but it shows at the same time how far removed the literature of the schools was fiom the path of ])ractical utility, and how impossible it would have been for its greatest admirer to have said of its most accom])lislu(l professor, that lie brought phil()soj)hy from its higher sphere to converse with mortals. Only one of Burleigh's works has escaped almost utter oblivion : this is a tract entitled, ' De Vita et Moribus Philosoi)horum,' and it is not unworthy of preservation, as giving a curious specimen of the manner in M'hich the masters of ancient wisdom were viewed by the learned of the 14th century. FLOR. CI KG. A. ». 1320. The earliest English physician whose works have been printed, was Gilbert English, wlio flourished in the 13th century, and whose skill in medicine is highly extolled by Leland and Bale. Like his predecessor, Albricius, he appears to have mastered the science of the Arabians, and Dr Freind is of opinion, that " he took the bulk of what he compiled from the writings of the Arabians," which were, in fact, at this time, the only depositaries of science known to Europeans. John de Gad- desden is the next medical writer of this country whose works are be- fore the public. He flourished in the early part of the 14th century, and studied at Merton college, Oxford. " Having acquired," says Le- land, " a thorough knowledge of philosophy, he applied with great ardour to the study of medicine, in which he made so great proficiency, that he was justly esteemed the great luminary of his age. He wrote a large and erudite work on medicine, to which, on account of its ex- cellence, the illustrious title of 'The Medical Rose,' was given." The title of the book is somewhat diflerent from Leland's account of it. It runs thus in the original : ' Rosa Anglica quatuor libris distincta, de morbis particularibus, de febribus, de chirurgia, de pharmocopeia.' It is a singular work, and may be referred to as exhibiting the whole system of surgery and physic practised in England in the 14th century. In treating of each disease, Gaddesdeu gives, first, the etymology of its name, and a general description of it ; 2dly, the symptoms ; 3dly, the treatment. On the latter head, Gaddesden is always extremely full ; in fact, as Dr Freind observes, he seems to have sedulously col- lected all the receipts and nostrums which he had ever met with or heard of, and, with little attention to the rationale of medicine, to have incorporated the whole in one vast system of therapeutics. He was a great dealer in secrets, and possessed some with which, if we are to trust his own account, he performed absolute miracles ; he affirms that he possessed great skill in physiognomy, and informs us, that it was his intention to write a treatise of chiromancy. In fact, Gaddesden was the universal philosopher of his day : j)hysic, meta- physics, surgery, poetry, philology, — nothing came amiss tc him ; and when one art failed, he was always sure to have another at hand with which he could at least impose on the credulity of mankind. Dr Freind has exposed, with much humour and eti'ect, the extreme empiri- cism of Gaddesden's practice. What can be more whimsical, for exam pie, than the following treatment of a patient in the small-pox ? '* After thit," — that is, immediately after the eruption appears — " cause the whole body of your patient be wrapped in red scarlet cloth, or in any other red cloth, and cause every thing about his bed be made red. This is an admirable mode of cure. It was in this manner I treated the son of the noble king of England when he had the small- pox ; and I cured him without leaving any marks." Nothing less ridiculous is his treatment of epilepsy, though in this instance, at least, he was not singular in his practice : " Because," says he, " there are many children and others affected with the epilepsy, who cannot take medicines, let the following method be observed, which is recommended by Constan- tine, Walter, Bernard, Gilbert, and others, which I too have found to be effectual, whether the patient was a demoniac, a lunatic, or an epileptic. When the patient and his parents have fasted three days, let him be con- ducted to a church. There, if he be of proper age, and in his right senses, let him confess. Then let him hear mass on Friday, during the fast of Quatuor temporum, and also on Saturday. On Sunday, let a good and i.ious priest read over his head, in the church, the gospel which is ap- pointed to be read in September in the time of vintage, and let the patient wear the same about his neck, and he will be cured. The gos- pel is : ' This kind goeth not out but by prayer and fasting.' " Such were the methods of cure practised by a man who stood at the head of the medical school of England in the 14th century, whom princes con- sulted and honoured, whom poets celebrated, and whom Leland and Ovaringius extol as the profoundest philosopher, the most fekilful physi- cian, and the most illustrious man of his age ! In forming an estimate, liowever, of Gaddesden, or any of his contemporaries, we must take into account the general ignorance and universal superstition of the age in which they lived. Besides the practice of his profession, Gad- desden held a prebendary in St Paul's, — a sinecure place doubtless, for so convenient a mode of rewarding personal services was not un- known to the dispensers of patronage even in these incorrupt times. Of his ' Rosa Anglica,' there are two editions : one printed in folio at Venice, in 1502, — the other in quarto, Aug. Vind. 1595. HORN CIRC. A. L). 1300 DIKD A. I>. 1372. The fervour of religious enthusiasm which had carried crowds of hum- ble pilgiims and steel-clad warriors to the Holy Land, was not yet ex- liausted when this remarkable man began his career. But the motives which influenced him seem to have been altogether distinct from those which had hitherto ouerated on the minds of travellers to the rKRiQD.J SII{ JOHN MANDKVILLE. 453 remote East. A desire of information, and that restlessness of mind with which it is so frequently blended, prompted him to pursue a course whicli it had till now required the irresistible inducements of devotion to urid(!rtake with courage. lie may, therefore, perhaps be fairly rejj;ar(led as tlie first of our countrymen to whom the name of traveller oui,'ht strictly to be; a])plied ; and when eitiier the extent of his wanderiiijj^s are rememlxrred, or tlu^ few facilities which the age afford- ed for pursuing them in saf(>ty, he may be considered, with equal jus- tice, as one of the most enterprising of his class. It has not been ascertained in what year he was born, but there are documents to prove that it was at or very near the commencement of the fourte(Mith century, and that Saint Albans was his birth place The family from which he descended is represented as having been of the highest respectability ; the same scanty traditions relating to him acquaint us that he was brought up as a physician, and that he exer- cised his profession for some years, but was at length so strongly ex- cited by the desire of seeing distant countries, that in 1332 he bade farewell to his native land, and commenced a tour which, with his stay in the different regions that attracted his curiosity, occupied no less a period than thirty-four years. During this time, he traversed the chief parts of Asia, Egypt, and Libya, spent three years at Pekin in China, attended the grand khan of Cathay in his wars, and even served as a soldier himself under the soldan of Egypt. The variety of ad- ventures with which he must have met in such a journey would have been amply sufficient to satisfy his readers, and it is only to be regret- ted that the interesting and valuable information he might have con- veyed should have been sacrificed to the extravagancies which disfigure his journal. From the length of time he expended in his wanderings, from the close intercourse which he seems to have kept up with the natives of the countries he explored, and the skill he acquired in their languages, he was qualified to enlarge the knowledge of his coun- trymen on subjects of the most important practical utility. But either his mind was deficient in acuteness, or he was unwilling to diminish the amazement with which the common stories respecting the east were received by the people. Thus the most extravagant assertions are made with an appearance of faith which is almost as startling as the wonders themselves. Nature is represented under aspects wiiicli set at defiance all tlie laws by which it may reasonably be supposed she is every where governed. Circumstances occur which the sober earnestness of the narrative sets forth as wortliy of all credit, but which are scarcely more cretlible than those of the wildest romance. Tiie journal, therefore, of Sir John would be worthy of little attention were it not for the light which it throws upon the taste of the English at the time when it was written. In the preface to the work, he speaks with some eloquence on the claims which the land of Palestine has to the devout attention of Christian men and states as his motive for de- scribing it, that a long time had passed since the route thither was fa- miliar or general, and tiiat a number of persons desired to hear it de- scribed. He then formally declares, "I, John Mandeville, knight, who was born in England in the town of St Albans, passed the sea in the year 1332, on Saint Michael's day; and there remained a long time, and went through many lands and many provinces, kingdoms, 454 LITERAEY SERIES. [Third and isles, and have passed through Turkie, and through Armony the Little and Great, through Tartary, Jury, Araby, Egypt the High and Low, through Liby, Chalde, and a great part of iEthiope, through Amazony, through Jude the Less and the More, and through many other isles which are about Jude, where many people dwell of divers shape Of the men of which lands I shall speak plainly, and shall declare part of the things I have seen." He then proceeds to describe the way to Jerusalem, " on horse, on foot, or by sea," prefacing his account with the remark, that he had " ridden it and passed it with good observa- tion." Many of the principal towns on the road are mentioned in order, and the care is every where evident which the author took not to omit any legend which might please the lovers of the marvellous. The description given of Bethlehem may serve to make the reader acquainted with his style : — " From Hebron," says he, " men go to Bethlehem in half a day, for it is but five miles, and it is a very fair way and through pleasant woods. Bethlehem is but a little city, long and narrow, and was walled and enclosed with a great ditch ; it hath been formerly called Ephrata, as holy writ saith, '■ Ecce audivimus cum in Ephrata,' &c., that is, ' Lo we heard of the same at Ephrata.' And near the end of tlie city towards the east, is a very fair and goodly church, which has many towers and pinnacles, being strongly built. Within tliat church are four and forty great marble pillars ; and not far from this church is a field which flourished very strangely, as you shall hear. The cause is, forasmuch as a fair maiden that was accused wrongfully for that she had done dishonestly, for which cause she was doomed to die, and to be burnt in that place, to which she was led. And as the wood began to burn about htjr, she made her prayer to our Lord, as she was not guilty of that thing, that he would help her, that it might be known to all men. And having thus prayed, she en- tered the fire, and those branches that were burning became red roses, and those that were not kindled became white roses, and these were the first roses that any man ever saw : And so was the maiden saved through the grace of God, wherefore that field is called the field that God flourished, for that it was full of roses." The wonders which he relates of the isles in the eastern seas are less pleasing to the imagination. Thus, the people of the isle of Raso are said to hang their friends who are supposed to be near dying on the boughs of trees, in order that the birds might eat them, saying, it was better that the birds — which are angels of God — should eat them than the worms. In another island hounds are said to be kept to strangle the sick, which, after they have been thus destroyed, are eaten for ' venison.' The isle of Macumeran is celebrated for being inhabited by men and women who have heads like dogs' heads. In Dodyn the people, it is said, beat even their sick parents to death, and then assemble all their friends and relatives to feast on their remains. Other islands are dis- tinguished like that of Macumeran for tlie monstrosities of human shape which they produce, and one is especially mentioned, the inhabitants of which have no heads, and to supply the defect have their eyes in their shoulders and their mouths in their breasts. Numerous instances might be produced of fables of another class, but the above specimen of Sir John's veracious gravity will enable the reader to form a tolera- bly correct idea of the privilege which travellers assumed to themselves Period.] SIR JOHN MANDEVn.LE. 455 in the fourtoentli century, or nitluT, jxtrhaps, of tlio ta-^to wliicli pro- viiiled at that period, and wliicli a man desirous of re])utation as a tra- veller dared not venture to oppose. Steele and Addison unite in celebrating; the fertility of tiie venerable tourist's imagination, and ob- serve, that among all the authors of his kind he deserves the foremost place for " the copiousness of his invention and tlie greatness of his genius." It has, however, been discovered, that Sir John merits less praise for originality than the ajiplause of these wits implies. From tlie comparison wiiich has been instituted between his journal and that of Oderic de Portenau, it is found that he borrowed whole pages from tliat writer, while most of liis marvillous tales are traced with equal clearness to the old romances, which were then generally well-known on the continent. Notwithstanding the medley of extravagance which occupied so large a portion of this journal. Sir John enjoyed an extensive reputation both ui England and abroad. Some of his relations, indeed, are ascribed to the monks, who are supposed to have added them of their own accord ; and it is not improbable, but that while he condescended to amuse the ignorant with fables, he obtained the respect of the more enlightened by a juster account of what he had seen and heard. It was chiefly to alleviate the unpleasant sensation of languor which he suffered after his return to England that he wrote the account of his journey, but the amusement which it aflbrded him was not sufficient to cure his ennui, and after a vain endeavour to remain contented at home, he again set out for the continent, and repaired to Liege, where he took up his re- sidence, and where he died in the year 1372. A handsome monument in the principal church of tliat city, records his honourable descent, and tlie faith in which he died. His name richly deserves to be re- membered ; however little he did to promote the interests of science, he was a man of singular resolution, and contributed, if he did nothing farther, to awaken a spirit of curiosity and enterprise. It is evident, from the character of his journal, that knowledge of every species was subjected at the time he wrote to the sway of superstition ; and when it is i-emembered that in little more than a hundred years from that pe- riod, Vasco de Gama rendered the remote shores of India familiar to every merchant in Europe, and Columbus had successfully traversed the Atlantic in search of shores before unheard of, the visionary tales of Sir John Mandeville, taken as a starting point, will serve to show in the strongest manner the extent to which in one century improve- ment may be carried. A similar inference will be drawn from his narrative when it is recollected, that at the time when his stories of Indians without heads, and other such marvels, were received with de- light in England, the Venetians and Genoese viewed those countries as the proper seat of their commerce, and would have been as little in- clined to credit his stories as they were ready to follow the suggestions of the boldest trafficker. As England was enabled to extend its com- merce, the narratives of travellers were filled with contents of a very dif- ferent nature, and those of Sir John Mandeville were speedily forgotten by all but the most curious inquirers into the state of our earl; lit€i? ture. 456 LITEEAEY SEEIES. [Third i^LOR. CIRC. A. 1). 1330. It deserves to be spoken to the praise of poetry, that those who i have cultivated the art have, in numerous instances, shown them- selves very superior to the age in \yhich they lived. Philosophers have frequently received this praise ; and every anticipation, how- ever slight, of improvements in science, — every glance they have given at a world advancing in light and intelligence, — has been justly regarded as a token of the loftiest intellectual power. But the noble elevation of poetical freedom, — its superiority to the fashions of the day, — its enmity to real prejudices and whatever else betokens an advance on the age, — are far less carefully noted ; and poetry is thus depriv^ed of the credit which in some instances has been remarkably its due. This is especially the case with more than one of our early English writers, who, living in an iron age, when superstition Avas at its height, when every art that peculation could invent to keep the people in igno- rance was exercised, stood boldly forth from among their brethren, and ventured to proclaim the laws of plain sense and reason. Robert Longlande belongs eminently to this number, and it is a matter of re- gret that tradition has not preserved more memorials of a man who deserves so well of his country and posterity. Antiquaries differ as to the precise period when he flourished, but the dates 1350 and 1362 point out with some degree of certainty the time at which he completed the work to which he owes his fame. It is also known, that he was a fellow of Oriel college, Oxford, and a secular priest. To the latter circumstance may probably be ascribed some portion of the freedom and intelligence, and still more the keen, biting sarcasm, which charac- terize his poem. The opposition which long prevailed between the se- cular and regular clergy, combined with the greater intercourse with society which the former enjoyed, gave to that class of the clerical order a very important advantage over their monastic brethren. Obliged to defend themselves and their conduct by continual appeals from the prejudices which had been fostered by the long reign of darkness to those pi-actical rules of wisdom which it was their interest to inculcate, they naturally acquired a readiness in judging of men and affairs which could scarcely fail of enlarging their views, and rendering them useful instructors. To a man of good natural powers it must have afforded an immense advantage to stand in this position. While his profes- sional character would give him innumerable opjDortunities of studying the world, it would prevent his being ruined with it ; and while he would enjoy much of the reverence with which all orders of the clergy were then regarded, he would be free from the trammels which the re- gulars wore as the price of their respectability. That Longlande pos- sessed ample qualifications for making the best use of his experience, his work abundantly proves, and the labours of critics have rarely been more profitably employed than they have been in elucidating or cor- recting the pages of this author. The ' Vision of Pierce Plowman' is a satire on the most conspicuous follies and superstitions of his cotem- poraries. No rank or profession escapes his bold and sweeping sar- Period.] ROBERT LONGLANDE. 457 casm. He looks on tlie worlci with the eye of a severe moralist, but not without the gay fooling of a poet. His blows are quick and iioavy, but lio fights with a woll-jjolisiiod weapon ; and while we may fairly give him the honour duo to a useful instructor, we may, at the same time, consider his ])oom as deserving a high rank, as such, among the earliest of our chissics. His own order suffers most severely under his hand, but he wius too good a satirist to confine his v'w.ws to one class of mankind, and in the introdu(!tion to the poem he represents himself as contemplating a vast and mixed multitude, composed of men of every age and degree : — " And as I hehuld on hey, est on to the sonne, I s:i\v a towr on a lot'l, ryaly cniakt'd, A dupe dale be nethe, a donjoun therein, With depe dykys and dyrke, and dredfid of sypih ; A fayr leld ful of folke fond I ther bctwene, — Of al innner of men, the mene and tlie ryche, Werkynge and wanderynge, as the werld askyth ; Summe put hem to the plow, ple.\id hem ful seelde, Jn syttynge and sowyng swonken full h.iide, And wan that wastms with glotcny dy.stioid ; And somme put hem to pryde," &c. &c. This vision and the others, in the description of which the poem con- sists, was seen by the author, as he represents, while he was sleeping, after having enjoyed a long and solitary ramble among the Malverne hills. In this respect he has followed the plan of more than one other early poet ; and the student of Italian literature will remember that the famous Brunetto Latini, the preceptor of Dante, has formed his prin- cipal work on this system. The love of allegory rendered such a me- thod of introducing the subject almost necessary, or, at least, gave a species of natural existence to the personages of the fable, and a veri- similitude to the relations, which they would not otherwise have pos- sessed. In the land of dreams we may allow a man to converse with ; Avarice, Bribery, c^c, as living visible personages ; and if the poet has the art to lead his reader over the shadowy threshold, his descriptions thenceforth assume the form and air of realities. We find in Long- : j lande's work some personifications which we with difRcultv admit in the ; present day to intercourse with our fancy. Simony and Theology have ! ' too many grave associations in their train to flow easily into verse ; but i in the age when Longlande wrote, there was little nicety of taste in this respect, and whatever could be named was considered as lawfully subject to the process of personification. Thus, among his chief cha- i racters are Do- Well, Do-Better, and Do -Best ; Do-Evil is another ; Wit and Thought are both active characters in the plot ; See- Well, Say- Well, and Hear- Well, have also distinct offices to perform. The last ' .mentioned personages are honoured with the appellation of Sir ; and ' accompanying them is ' Sir Godfray Go- Well.' The great object of i their labour is to preserve the Soul, represented as a lady with the ! I name of Anima, and the following lines will show how skilfully the j author manages his numerous train of shadows : — I " Sir Dowel dwellith, coth Witt, nogt a day homes j In a castel that kyiide (nature) made, of four kyimes thinges ; j Of crthe and of aier is hit made, medied togedris ' I- 3 M , ! 458 LITERARY SERIES. [Thiku With wynde and with watir, wittirly enjoyned. KmuIo hath closed Iheryinie, craftely withalle A Lemman that he lovcth, lyk to hym solve, Anima she hatte, ac Envy hire hateth, A proud prikier of Fraunce, piinceps hujnst mundi, And wold wynne hire away with wiles and he m}ghtte; Ac Kynde knoweth this wel, and kepith hire the bettre. And doth hire with Sire Dowel is duk of these marchis; Dobest is hire damsel. Sire Dowellys dougtter, To serve this lady leely, both late and rathe. Dobest is above both a bieschoppis pere, That he bitt mot be don he reuleth hem alle. Anima that lady, is led by his leryng; Ac the constable of that rastel, that kepith al the watche, Is a wise knightte withalle, Sire Inwitt he hatte, And hath f} ve fair sones bi his first wyf, Sire Seewel and Saywel, and Huyrewcl the end, Sir Worchewel with thyn hond, a wyghtte man of strengthe. And Sire Godfray Gowtl, grete iordis forsothe These fyve ben y sette, to save this lady Anima Till Kynde come or send,'' &c. The boldness of the poet, as well as his ingenuity, is shown in many spirited descriptions of the luxury of the clergy, and of the corruptions to which it led. Destitute as we are of all other means of judging of Longlande's personal character, we have so clear an image in his poe- try of a free and lofty minded man, — of one whose sagacity gave vigour to his talents, and whose sense of moral right was equal both to his talents and his sagacity, — that we can scarcely be mistaken in ascribing to him a portion of the praise belonging to those qualities. BORN CIHC. A. D. 132G DIED A. D. 1402. On arriving at the name of Gower, the literary historian finds him- self entering on a new and wider track of inquiry. Poetry — when that celebrated man began to write — had been long cultivated in this coun- try; and the metrical romances of 'Sir Guy,' of 'the Squire of Low De- gree,' ' Sir Degore,' and others, evince considerable power of imagination, and no slight mastery over the strong but yet unsettled idioms of the Saxon English. The poems of Adam Davie, who lived at the com- mencement of the fourteenth century, of Richard Hampole, an Augus- tine monk, who wrote about forty years later, and those of Robert Longlande, the author of the far-famed ' Vision of Pierce Plowman', connect the period of wild fanciful romance with that of Gower and Chaucer. But these early productions created a taste which they could not satisfy. There were glimpses of beauty in the rude concep- tions they embodied, — an occasional sweetness in the construction ot the hardy verse ; but these only made the readers of those times long for demonstrations of a power which the art of the poet had not yet attained. It required a period of luxury and refinement to give that polish to language which renders it a sure and mirror-like medium for the operations of genius. The same refinement was necessary to give the poet a field sufiiciently wide and fruitful in subjects for the cxer- Period.] JOHN GOWER. 459 cise of his talent. In a rude ago, it is only the wildest creations of the imagination which can secure attention, and these, however modified, will always belong to the same class, and be imbued with the same spirit. Notiiing can be more erroneous than the common notion that an uncivilized period is the most favourable to the developement ot the imagination. The freedom with which it is allowed to act, is fiir more than counterbalanccMl by the barrenness ami poverty of ideas with which that freedom is accompanied. Imagination, like all other faculties of the mind, r(>quires nourishment; but it is only in civilized communities — in which, though passion may be concealed, there are stronger sympathies at work, more varied combinations of feeling, more both to fear and love, — that it can find enough to preserve it in a state, not of seeming, but of real activity. Hence it is, that the poetry of barbarous times is so generally monotonous tliough wild, and that the grandest triumphs of the imagination liave bt-en witnessed in ages of advanced civilization. Homer, ^^schylus, and his follow- ers, — Shakspeare and Milton, — bear ample testimony to the truth ol this observation ; and if their works be compared with the productiona of authors who lived in more unpolished periods, it will be at once seen how little the imagination owes to a barbarous freedom to whal it does to polish and cultivation. Gower and his distinguished cotemporary were the first English po- ets who enjoyed all the advantages to be reaped from an improved age, from a highly refined education, and from constant intercourse with the noblest personages of the lanxl. The reign of Edward the Third is celebrated in our national annals, as not less remarkable for the splen- dour of its events than the luxury which it introduced among the people. Every art by which domestic comfort could be increased was favoured by the wealthy populace, now growing into estimation as one of the orders of the state. The greater importance attached to the decisions of parliament conferred a respectability upon them which they had not before possessed, and hence not only diffused a general desire for the improvements of life, but taught them to ap- preciate better the qualifications of men of genius. While the people were thus prepared for a purer species of poetry than any that had yet been cultivated, and while the progress of intelligence was every day increasing its materials, and widening its range, the language was also undergoing an alteration strongly calculated to improve its harmony and flexibility. The growing pride of the nation, as well as its obvi- ous interests, made the law which prohibited the further use of French in public deeds, as acceptable as it was politic. But the worst impe- diment to the refin(>ment of the native language was thence removed. The Saxon words and idioms which yet stood out sharp and knotty obstacles to the smooth flow of its current, admitted of being worn down by the stream as it strengthened and enlarged itself; but the iiitlierro allowed superiority of French prevented any systematic at- tempts to improve it, and but for the conquests of Edward, and the advancement of national independence, the ' well of English undefiled* might never have existed. It was under these circumstances that Gower and Chaucer laid the foundation of their school of poetry. The reign of Richard the Se- cond gave a further inipidse to the love of luxury, and the passion 460 LITERARY SERIES. [Tiiihd for improvement which manifested themselves in the time of his prede- cessor. A spirit of religious independence and inquiry then began to appear, and the corruptions which had shortly before been the prey only of a few keen wits, were exposed by Wiekliffe to the examination and censure of the people at large. The attention of all classes was thus by turns excited to political and religious inquiry, and the popular mind every where outgrew the garments which had been woven for it by ignorance and superstition. We unfortunately possess few records of the personal history of Gower, but the little which is known of it shows him to have en- joyed from early youth all the literary advantages that could be procured in the period when he flourished. The patience of antiqua- ries has traced his origin to a wealthy family of the same name, settled at Stitenham, in Yorkshire ; but the genealogy thus made out for him has been since disputed, and the descent of Gower may, thei-efore, be consi- dered as still unsettled. That his education, however, was of the most liberal kind, is allowed by all his biographers, but where he received it is as much a matter of dispute as his origin. All we know is, that having finished his preliminary studies, he became a student of law in the Inner Temple, where he was distinguished for his great professional acquirements, and enjoyed the character of being as accomplished in general literature as he was in jurisprudence. Both fortune and reputation rewarded the industry with which he cultivated his various talents. It has been conjectured by some writers that he received the honour of knighthood, and held a high legal ap- pointment, but there is not sufficient foundation for this opinion, and the only well-authenticated part of the relation is, that he amassed con- siderable wealth, and that the greater portion of it was the fruit of his professional skill and perseverance. The knowledge of this circum- stance explains the allusions which are made bj'^ Chaucer to the sober and moral character of his friend, and affords an interesting picture of a man of genius, combining, in this early period of our history, the love of letters with the regular habits of business. It was while actively engaged in his professional occupations, that he composed the greater part of the works which entitle him to be ranked among the restorers of literature ; and it has been recorded to his hon- our, that the chief object he had in view, in most of what he wrote, was the correction of those follies and vices vvhicli had already sprung from the luxury of the nobles, and the corresponding grossness of the people. He appears, however, to have advanced some way in his li- terary career, before he escaped the trammels which the fashionable love of French had imposed on so many minds. His principal work consists of three parts, the titles of wiiich are, Speculum Meditantis, Vox Clamantis, Coiifessio Amantis. Of these, the first is written in French, and the ten books into which it is divided are occupied with general delineations of virtue and vice, with exhortations and advice to the reprobate for their restoration to hope, and with eulogies on the virtues to be cultivated in the marriage state. The second part, or the ' Vox Clamantis,' shows the disinclination he still entertained towards English, or at least his unwillingness to trust the fame he was desirous of reaping to his native tongue. Seven books of Latin elegiacs were the production of his laborious pen, under the above title, and they Pkriod.] JOHN GOWER. 4^1 exhibit, botli by their style and siil)jc(t, the foiuhicss with which the schohus of the age still regarded the works of the inonki>;li hi>-torian.s. The insurrection which shook the throne of the unlbrtunate Richard to its foundations, was the subject of this strange poem ; but neither of the parts of Gower's great work here mentioned was ever printed ; and had he produced nothing »>lse, his name, it is most probable, would not now be known. It may, however, be conjectured, that in his employment of French and Latin, he was encouraged by the ex- ample of his celebrated eotemi)oraries in other countries. The fame which had been accjuired by the earlier French bards, naturally ren- dered their language the lavourite vehicle for poetry of the lighter spe- cies ; and the veneration for Latin w as still so great, that Petrarch, it is well known, scorned the idea of deriving glory from his compositions in modern Italian. But the ' Confessio Amantis' amply vindicates our author's claim to the honour of an English writer, while the occasion of its being com- posed affords a proof of the lame he had actjuired by the preceding parts of the poem. While rowing one day on the Thames, the king happened to meet him in the royal barge, and no sooner recognised his person, but gave him a signal to enter. The conversation between the monarch and the poet lasted for some time, and at its conclusion, his Majesty desired him to resume his poetical labours, expressing his wish in the significant phrase, that he would ' book some new thing.' The command of the king was forthwith obeyed, and Richard proved in this instance at l(>ast, a judicious patron. It would afford the rea- der little instruction to give an abstract of the ' Confessio Amantis.' An idea, however, of this singular work may be formed from its being simply stated, that it embodies the rules of love laid down by the three very distinct teachers on the subject, the romantic troubadours, the Platonic Italians, and the sensual Ovid. In illustration of these rides, the author expends all the learning of his age, and leaves un- cited neither historian nor philosopher of whose works or even of whose name he had ever heard. The strange medley of learning thus brought together, has little beauty to the eye of a modern reader, but if the age be considered in which it appeared, we shall see rea- son to believe that it was regarded in a far different light by those for whom it was written. Knowledge had then as deep a charm as poetry, and the stories and mysteries told or alluded to by Gower, would thus excite an interest sufficiently strong to atone for any ap- pearance of incongruity. But, besides the defects in the plan of the work, it has others of a more serious kind in its execution. It is generally allowed to exhibit very little invention, to be tame in ex- pression, and to be deffcient, in short, in most of those excellencies which cliaracterise the productions of Chaucer. But it is not so much in relation to the genius of the writer as in reference to the age when it was produced, that a work of early date should be considered. The acute observation of Addison in respect to medals, jiertains, in one particular, to ancient poems. " Tiie intrinsic value," says he, " of an old coin does not consist in its metal, but its erudition :" and in the same manner, the interest of a poem such as that we are consider- ing, depends less on the intrinsic beauty of the language or concep- tion, than on its relative misrit when compared with other productions 4GL' LITERARY SERIES. [Thiri of the same, or an immediately preceding jDeriod. But in placing the ' Vox Amantis' by the side of the romances which, with few exceptions, were the only poems in the language, its superiority is at once evident. The author evinces a just sense of the dignity and fit application of his art : his subject is varied by all the digressions and ornaments, which it only wanted a higher degree of skill to render as splendid and attractive as they were various, and the sentiments are almost throughout full of good sense and dignity. So much valued was the work on these accounts, that Berthelette, the printer, did not hesi- tate to dedicate his edition to Henry the Eighth, and in his epistle to the monarch, says, among many other things equally laudatory, that " who- soever In reading it doth consider it well, shall find that it is plentifully stuffed, and furnished with manifold eloquent reasons, sharp and quick arguments, and examples of great authority, persuading unto virtue, not only taken out of the poets, orators, history, writers, and philoso- phers, but also out of the Holy Scripture." To this he adds, that there is, in his opinion, " no man, but that he may, by reading of this work, get right great knowledge, as well for the understanding of many and divers customs, whose reasons, sayings, and histories, are trans- lated into this work, as for the plenty of English words and vulgars, besides the furtherance of the life to virtue." Gower was far advanced in years when he produced this poem. The most distinguished of his cotemporaries, Chaucer, had been his inti- mate friend from an early period of their life, and there are allusions in the works of each which shovv how sincerely both the one and the other esteemed the talents of his companion. Thus, in the ' Confessio Amantis,' the author makes Venus say — ., Giete well Cliaucer \vh;m }e mete, As my disciple and my poete, For ill the flours of his youth, In sundiie wise, as he well couth, Of detees, and of songes glade, The whicli he for my s;iku made, The loude fuUiUed is over all : Whereof to him in speciall Above all other I am most holde. Ln a similar spirit of cojupliment Chaucer tlius concludes his Troilus and Cresside : — O moral Gower, this boke I directe To tht', and to the philosophical Strode, To vouchsafe there hede is for to conecte. Of your benignities and zelis gode. Tiiat similarity of tastes and pursuits for which these distinguished men were conspicuous, was fully sufficient to unite them in friendship, when there were so few others of like talent or disposition. But an additional cause has been assigned for their intimacy. While Chaucer possessed the patronage of John of Gaunt, Gower was equally at- tached to Thomas of Woodstock, duke of Gloucester, the other of the king's uncles wh > shared in the project of ruling the nation with- out the interference of the young monarch. In what degree our poet involved himself in political transactions cannot now be determined. Pkhiod.] JOHN GOWER. 463 l)ut it is probable tiiat he, as woW as Chaucer, took a deep interest in the events of the times, and that, learned and eloquent as he was, lie exercised some influence ov(>r the i)arty to which he belonged. Certain it is, that the death of tlie unfortunate duke of Gloucester was openly and pathetically lamented by him in his poems, and there is reason to think, that he lost no opportunity of expressing his dislike to the mea- sures of Richard's government. His good sense, liis prudent and vir- tuous character, would naturally make him the o[)p()nent of violence and licentiousness, the too i)romiiient features of tiiat unfortunate mon- arch's reign ; but it is equally pr()l)al)le, from the; sauu; consideration, that his ])olitical conduct had no tincture of that dishonesty which was many years after laid to his charge. The ' Coiifessio Amantis' was, in the first instance, dedicated to ]{iehard, and the removal of this dedi- cation to make room for that to Henry the Fourth, provoked the vitu- perative eloquence of more than one critic in a subsecpu^nt age. It should, however, have been remembered, that Gower, to all appear- ance, was never a courtier, and tliat he was so far from being a rene- gade to his party, by seeking to honour the new monarch, that he onlj' thereby continued to express opinions which he had advocated throughout his life. But the age and infirmities of the poet were of themselves suflfi- cient to guard him from the supposed dishonesty. In the first year of Hcnr3''s reign, the loss of sight cut him oft' from the business of the world, and put, as he pathetically laments, an end to his career. Universally respcjcted, possessed of great wealth, and satisfied with the fame he had acquired, it is scarcely to be credited, that he would now forfeit his reputation for honesty to accpiire the smiles of a monarch, whose fa- vour could do him no service, and with whom he had no errors to pro pitiate. Gower was Chaucer's senior, but he survived him about two years. His death took place in 1402, and the sumptuous monument m which his remains are deposited attests botii his taste and his munificence. The churcii of St Saviour's i'.i Southwark, which contains this interest- ing record, was sometime before his decease destroyed by fire, and it was solely owing to his large contributions, and the exertions he made, that the venerable church which has excited the admiration of so many generations, rose from its ruins. The most curious feature in the mon- ument under wliich he is buried, is tlie representation of his great work, in the form of three gilt volumes, lettered with the respective titles of the parts into which the jioem was divided. Deeply imbued with pi- ety, and attention to the rites of the faith which he professed, he found- ed a chantry at his tomb, and tiie time-hallowed aisle of St Mary Overee — as the church was formerly called — though the ceremonial which the poet instituted is forgotten, is still sacred to his memory. Tile fame of Gower has been almost entirely lost sight of in modern times, tlirougli the brilliant reputation enjoyed by Chaucer. But it is judiciously observed by Warton, that " if the latter had not existed, the compositions of Gower alone would have been sufficient to rescue the reigns of Edward the Third ami Richard the Second from the impu- tation of barbarism." In some of the minor poems which have surviv- ed him, a delicacy of thought and ftieling is manifested, as superior to tJie ordinary style of sentiment prevalent in his age, as was his languagf 4G4 LITERARY SERIES. [Third to that of most preceding versifiers. We shall here insert one specimen of his versification from the ' Florent :' — " My lord," she saide, " grand-metxi ." For of this word that ye now sayii, That ye have made me soveieigii, My destiny is over passed ; Tiiat never hereafter shall be lasKpd ' My beauty, which that J now have, Till I belake unto my prave. Both nicht and day, as I am novi, I shall ahvay be such to )0u. The kinges daughter of Sicile I am ; ami J'dl^ but sith a while, As I was with my fatlier late. That my step-mother, for an hate Which toward me she hath begun, FoT-sluipe* me, till I haflde won The love and the sovereinely Of what knight that in his degrea All other passeth of good name : And, as men sfiyn, \e be the same, The deed proveth it is so. Thus am I }Ours for evermo." Tho was pleasance and joy enough ; Each one with other play'd and iouyh;^ They lived long, and well they far'd, And clerkes, that this chance heard, They written it in evidence, To teach, how that obedience May well lortune a man to love, And set him in his lust above. By his habit of moralizing in the lighter productions of literature, Gowei ilid a greater service to his countrymen than is commonly placed to his credit. The duty of teaching had been long confined to the clergy, and superstition and self-interest had, in a great measure, deprived that order of its ability to inculcate morality with a free and healthy s])irit. Legends and anathemas are neither of them good supports of virtue, and it was in these that the bulk of the priesthood chiefiy dealt. When men of sense and probity in the world began to set forth the worth of holiness and truth, unblended with the errors, and free ft-om the fierceness of superstition or pride, a new tone was given to popular opinion ; the maxims of piety and virtue had a freer circulation and literature was allowed a place by the altar and the throne, because it was henceforth to perform an important part in the improvement of the human character. Gower was among tiie first to efiect this valuable purpose, and his name, consequently, ought to be had in remembrance, not only for the confessedly great share he took in the formation of our language, but for the still greater benefit he conferred on the genertJ cause of literature and moralitv. Many thanks. U bctell. ' Liiu;;hed. • Lesseneil. • iVlii-shuped. PiiRioD.j CHAUCEK. 465 Chaucer. BORN CIRC. A. u. 13:;^M uiKi) ciiu:. a. i> 1400. Hitherto our poetry may be considered as only struggling to uiako its escape from the enchaining but grailually relaxing frosts of winter ; we are now to loolc u[)on it — to borrow the beautiiul similitude of Mr Warton — as suddenly visited by an influence like to that of those " cloud- less skies and that tepid atmosjiherc which sometimes gladden for a single day an English spring, and fill the hearts of men with the vi- sionary prospect of a speedy summer." Our poetic annals, in so far as they are really worth tracing for the gratification of poetic feeling, may be fairly said to commence with the name of Geoffrey Chaucer. The events of Chaucer's life, in so far as tluy are really known to us, may be soon told, although most of his biographers have, by means of numberless disjjutes and conjectures, spun out the detail of them to very considerable length, and the latest writer who has undertaken the task, Mr Godwin, has actually contrived, without the aid of almost a single new fact, to extend the narrative over two quarto volumes. Nay, he tells us in his preface, that he was inclined to go on till he had written four quartos instead of two, had not his publisher assured him that the public would not sympathize with so swollen a structure blown out of such scanty materials. In truth, of the few incidents of the poet's history which rest upon authentic testimony, nearly all are mere naked dates ; and of those which have been repeated by his successive biographers from more questionable sources, most are extremely doubt- ful, and some are quite improbable, or proved to be unfounded. Va- rious accounts have been given even of the place of his birth ; but he himself, in one of his prose pieces, his ' Testament of Love,' seems expressly to intimate that he was a native of London. Of his family nothing whatever can be said to be known. Some suppose him to have been of noble descent ; while others, judging by the name — which, in old French, signifies a breeches-maker — conclude that he must have sprung from a plebeian stock. A common tradition is that his father was one Richard Chaucer, who kept a tavern, according to Stowe, in the Royal street, at the corner of Kirton-lane, and was buried in 1348 in his parish church of St Mary Aldermary, to which he left his house and its appurtenances. The old editors of his worlcs, and most of the other writers who mention the circumstance, tell us that he was born in the year 1328. But the original authority upon which this date rests is not known ; and doubts have been sometimes enter- tained of its correctness. Mr Godwin, in consequence of the language of a recently discovered document, was at one time inclined to fix his birth so late as 1344 ; but on farther consideration, he reverted to the common opinion. He certainly received a learned education, and most probably studied at one of the universities, but whether at Ox- ford or Cambridge is doubtful. Most of his biographers make him to have attended both, as the easiest way of reconciling the accounts of dirt'erent authorities. From the university they transfer him to the Middle, or, as some will have it, the Inner Temple ; but for the be- lief that Lc ever was a student of law, there is little or no foundation 3 y 4.66 LITERARY SERIES. [Thirl Speght, indeed, in his edition of the poet's works, published in 1597, tells us that a Mr Buckley, many years before, had seen a record in the Temple, in which it was mentioned that Geoffrey Chaucer had been fined two shillings for beating a Franciscan friar in Fleet street. But, whatever we might be entitled to infer fi'om this vague notice, its value as a proof that Chaucer was of the Temple is completely destroyed by the remark of Speght's very intelligent friend and cor- respondent, Francis Thynne, in his ' Animadversions,' published only a few years ago by Mr Todd, from the MS. in Lord Stafford's lib- rary, that this house was not frequented as a place for education in the law at all till towards the latter end of the reign of Edward III. ; " at which time," says Thynne, " Chaucer was a grave man, holden in great credit, and employed in embassy; so that methinketh he should not be of that house ; and yet, if he then were, I should judge it strange that he should violate the rules of peace and gravity in those years." Only sixteen j'ears after the death of Edward III., Chaucer, as Thynne observes, is described by his friend Gower as an old man, — a fact, by the bye, which strongly confirms the earlier and common date assigned to his birth. Thynne, we may here notice, in these most acute and sensible animadversions, detects the blunder first committed by Speght, and in which he was followed by many other critics, among the rest by Warton and Ritson, of adducing a passage from Gower's ' Confessio Amantis,' beginning — " Greet well Chaiio«r, when ye meet, As my disciple and my poeti" as a proof that Gower was not only Chaucer's senior, but had even been his master and instructor in his art. The words in question, in fact, are uttered not by Gower at all, but by Venus. It is the goddess of love who describes Chaucer as her poet and disciple. It is some- what curious that although Warton, in one place,' quotes the com- mencing lines of this speech of Venus in the common and erroneous sense, he afterwards,* although by a citation of the wrong book, refers to it as the language of the goddess, and even gives the correct inter- pretation of the very lines he had before misapplied. This is not no- ticed by Warton's very learned and ingenious editor, who, however, corrects in a note the misstatement in the earlier page. In the year 1367 an annuity of 20 marks was conferred upon Chau- cer by Edward III., and, in the patent of this grant, which has been printed by Rymer, the poet is styled by the king Valletus noster, or, as Mr Tyrrwhitt translates it, ' our yeoman,' a title given to young men before they were knighted. " How long he had served the king," says this writer, " in that or any other station, and what particular merita were rewarded by his royal bounty, are points equally unknown." Be- fore this, indeed, Leland and his other early biographers tell us that he had travelled through France and the low countries ; but for this state- ment there seems to be no proper authority. Soon after his return home, they say, he became page to the king ; and his annuity, it is in- BJnuated, was bestowed upon him as a reward for the delight which ' History of English Poetry, vol. ii. p. 177, edii. 1824. ' ibid, p 3o2. Pfriod.] CITAUCER. 4G7 ho coiiimiiiiirated to his royal master by the poetical effusions and sallies of wit in which his genius already distinguished itself. Whether in this or in some other way, he appears at any rate to have gradually risen in favour at court ; for four years afterwards we iind anotlier annuity of the same amount conferred ujjon iiim, and the year following he re- ceived the honourable appointment of envoy, along with two othei gentlemen, to the republic of Genoa, to manage some puljlic negotia- tion, the nature of whicli, however, is not known. A visit to Italy, the knd of beauty, romance, and song, could not fail to produce; tJie happiest effect upon such a genius as that of Ch.viucer. It appears to have been in tlie course of this visit that he met with Petrarch at Padua, and learned from him, as he tells us himself, the pathetic story of Grisclda, which he afterwards so beautifully versified, and which had just been translated into Latin by Petrarch — who died the follow- ing year — from Boccaccio's Decameron. On his return to England he received a new mark of the royal favour in the grant of a pitcher of wine daily for life, which was afterwards commuted for another annuity of twenty marks. The same year lie obtained the lucrative place of comptroller of the customs of wool and hides for the port of London. If this appointment was given to Chaucer by the king in testimony of his majesty's admiration of his poetical abilities, it was a reward perhaps rather more substantial than api)ropriate ; but the poet, we daresay, did not much object to it on that account, even although the appointment was accompanied with the proviso that " the said Geoffrey write with his own hand his rolls touching the said office, and continually reside there, and do and execute all things pertaining to the said office in his own proper person, and not by his substitute." Notwithstanding the labour and diligence thus demanded of him, the period during which he held this office seems to have been the hap- piest and most prosperous of Chaucer's life. He afterwards, in his Testament of Love, speaks of his condition at this time as having been that of one " glorious in worldly wellfulness, and having such goods in wealth as makes men rich." The dues and occasional perquisites ol his office, together with his previous grants, nmst have produced him a considerable income ; although it is probable that his biographers have greatly overrated its amount when they state him to have been in the receipt of about a thousand pounds sterling a-year. Nor does the attention he was obliged to give to business appear to have withdrawn him from the acquaintance of the Muses. In a very interesting pas- sage of his House of Fame, he has put into the raoutii of the 'eagle, who acts a principal part in the story, the following account of his own habits, which, from the mention of his reckonings, seems evidently to refer to this period of his life, during which, therefore, we may pre- sume the poem to have been written : — thou hast no tidings. Of Lovis folk if they be glade, Ne of nothing else that (Jod made, And not only from far countree Tliat no tidings come in to thee; Nut of thy very neighbors That dwellen almost at thy doors, Thou hearest neither that ne this; For whan thy labour all done i--, i68 LITERARY SERIES. [Third And hast made all thy reckonings, Instead of rest, and of new things, Thou goest home to thine house anon. And all so dumb as any stone, Thou sittest at another book Till fully daised is thy look, And livest thus as an hermite," &c. From a previous part of the same address, we learn that he had al- ready spent much of his time in the composition of love verses : — " Jupiter," says the eagle, when announcing the honour that was to be conferred upon him by the king of the gods, " hath of thee great ruth" (pity) :— " For that thou hast so truilly, So long served ententively. His blinde nephew Cupido, And the fair queen Venus alsb, Withouten guerdon ever yet. And na-the-less hast set thy wit, Although in thy head full lit (little) is, To make books, songis, and ditties. In rhyme, or ellis in cadence. As thou best canst, in reverence Of Love, and of his servants eke, That have his service sought and seek." The language and tone of the whole of this account will probably be thought to be adverse to the supposition that Chaucer was at this time a married man. His early biographers, however, tell us that he had long before this united himself to Philippa Rowet, the sister of Cathe- rine Rowet, who had been brought over from Hainault by King Ed- ward's third son, the famous John of Gaunt, duke of Lancaster, to be one of the attendants on his countess, Blanch, but who soon became the duke's mistress, and finally his wife. There are considerable doubts, however, not only as to the time of this marriage of Chaucer's, but as to both the Christian and surname of his wife, and even as to whether she was any relation at all of the lady who afterwards became duchesa of Lancaster. All that appears certain is, that our poet had, from a very early date, attached himself to the fortunes of Gaunt, and that, throughout the whole of his subsequent life, he was evidently very intimately entangled with the movements of that able but ambitious and restless character. It is by no means improbable that he owed his first rise at court mainly to the duke's protection and favour ; but this connexion, upon the whole, brought upon him quite as much trouble and calamity as honour and profit. He continued, however, to hold his office at the custom-house, at least throughout tlie reign of Edward ; and in 1377 we find him again sent on an embassy, along with other commissioners, to France, in order to negotiate a marriage between the young prince of Wales and one of the daughters of the French king, — a project, however, which did not take effect. Even for some time after the accession of the new king, and so long as the duke of Lan- caster was at the head of affairs, Chaucer, there can be no doubt, en- joyed the benefit of the prosperity of his patron. But this state of thmgs did not last long. The duke had, for many years, been con- nected with the party of Wickliffe and his followers; and this associa- Peuiod.J CHAUCER. 469 tion, by enlisting against liim all the ancient and more powerful interests of the state, eventually uiKlorniiiicd his power, and drove him from the helm of afihirs. It is probahle that upon tliis occasion Chaucer was de- prived of his office of comptroller of the customs ; although all that is really known, is, that from a stat(! of aHluence he suddenly fell into great difficulties and distress, so much so, that in order to satisfy his creditors, he was obliged to s(!ll his annuities, and even, it is said, to have recourse to the king's protection in order to save himself from im- prisonment. The utmost confusion and obscurity hangs over this por- tion of his history ; but, about the year 1383, he aj)pears, either on account of his debts, or, as other authorities assert, in consequence of his having exposed himself to danger by engaging in the unsuccessful insurrection of the followers of Jolin of Northampton, the reforming mayor of London, to have fled from the country, and taken refuge first in France, and afterwards in Zealand. After some time, however, he returned to England ; and, if we may trust the conunon account, made his peace with the crown by making a full disclosure of the guilt of his associates, — an act which naturally and justly exposed him for a long period aflerwards to much odium. But it would be unfair to form any decisive opinion as to Chaucer's actual conduct from the vague accounts that have come down to us of this unexplained transaction. For one thing, it does not appear that any person suffered in consequence of his information. As for himself, he is said to have retired to a small house at Woodstock, resolved to spend the remainder of his days at a distance from civil broils. When, some time after this, the credit of the duke of Lancaster revived, after his return from Spain with great wealth, and his success in marrying his two daughters to the kings of Castile and Portugal, Chaucer seems again to have partaken in some degree of the sunshine of royal favour, — one of his pensions at least being re- stored to him, and a pipe of wine being also granted to him annually out of the customs of London. But it does not appear that he was ever again induced to quit his country retreat for the court. On the accession of Henry IV. the son of his old patron John of Gaunt, in 1399, he received a renewal of his former patents, and also a grant of an additional annuity of forty marks for life. But he did not long sur- vive the receipt of these favours ; for, having been obliged, we are told, to come up to town to arrange some of his affairs which the late convulsion in the state had thrown into disorder, the fatigue which he underwent proved too great for his strength, and, falling ill, he died on the 25th of October, 1400, in the seventy-second year of his age. He was buried, as Caxton, the printer tells us in his edition of the poet's prose translation of Boethius, " in the abbey of Westriiinster, before the chapel of St Bennet ; by whose sepulchre is written on a table hanging on a pillar his epitaph made by a poet laureate." Chaucer is generally supposed to have been interred in the same spot in which Dryden's body was aflerwards laid. Of any family which he left, nothing is known with certainty. One of his prose works, his ' Treatise on the Astro labe,' bears to have been written for the instruction of his son Lewis, who was then — about the year 1391 — ten years of age. But the bio- graphers give him, besides Lewis, another and older son Thomas, who rose to be speaker of the house of commons, and to occupy various othei high offices in the reigns of Henry IV., V., and VI. This Tho- 470 LITERAEY SERIES. [Tiiiri mas Chaucer, by a daughter, became progenitor of the earls of Lin- coln and of the De la Poles, dukes of Suffolk, the last of whom, Ed- ward de la Pole, was beheaded for treason in the reign of Henry VII.; but it is very doubtful, after all, if he was really the sor» of Chaucer the poet. Various portraits of the face and person of Chaucer, we may add, have come down to us, some of which seem to be nearly of his own time. All represent him as of a noble and dignified presence ; and, in- deed, he has, in tradition, the reputation of having been one of the handsomest personages of his age. Granger has printed the following lines which delineate him graphically enough j — " His stature was not very tall, Lean he was, liis lei^s v/ere small, Hosed within a stock of red, A buttoned bonnet on his head." This description agrees very well with an old painting of him, of which Mr Godwin has given an engraving in his second volume. The works of Chaucer are very voluminous ; consisting, besides several prose treatises, of his famous Canterbury tales, a poem extend- ing to above 17,000 lines, without including the portion of which the genuineness is doubted, or the Parson's tale, which is in prose ; the Romaunt of the Rose, a translation from the French of William de Lorris. of which there are nearly 8,000 lines ; the poem of Troilus and Cressida, in five books ; the House of Fame, in three books ; and many minor pieces. Nearly all these productions are rich in beauty ; and of those which are less known, the Romaunt of the Rose, the Troilus and Cressida, the Flower and Leaf, and the House of Fame, may be especially recommended to the attention of the lovers of genuine poetic inspiration, as evidencing all of them an affluence of imaginative genius, equal perhaps to any thing that is to be found even in the Canterbury tales themselves. It is in these tales, however, the work of his declining age, composed in the tranquillity of his sylvan retirement, and after his in- tercourse with the world's multitudes had become little more than a remembered dream, that he has alone given full manifestation of the whole strength and variety of his powers, and done justice to the liber- ality of nature. This poem is perhaps (with the exception of Lord Byron's Don Juan) the most wonderful example in literature of that composite style of writing, which, demanding in the author an almost universal susceptibility and skill of execution, overpowers us with a florid variety and magnificence of effect, akin to that produced by the mingled beauties and sublimities of external nature, or by the grander parts of the actual drama of human life itself. Chaucer is one of that short list of men of the highest genius who have been also men thoroughly conversant with the real world. It was to this intercourse with society as well as with books and with his own mind, that he no doubt owed in great part that extraordinary coml)ination of almost op- posite powers and qualifications which has given to his poetry such manifold and diversified charms. There is in truth hardly one consti- tuent of the poetical character with which the writings he has left be- hind him do not prove him to have been splendidly endowed. If you deem the essence of genuine poetry to consist in that sublimity and soaring grandeur of conception which delights in escaping from the pinion.] CHAUCER. 471 real world altog(>thcr, and luxuriating only among the brighter hurs aj]nt jjcriod are better adaptcnl than this to give us a favourable im- pressiot) of the state of the public mind. Hitherto the ac(juirenient3 which fitted a man to shine in the battle-field, or the tournament, were the exclusive pursuit of the higher classes, and they were thought suf- ficiently well-prepared to adorn their station when they could be-ar themselves gallantly against an enemy or a rival. We mnv learn that it was beginning to be thought necessary to exhibit some power of mind, and to imitate the example already set by the nobility of France and Italy in the cultivation of literature. Instead, therefore, of con- sidering as formerly, that it was on the professional minstrel, or the learned clerk only, that the skill in })oetry, or science, could confer honour, the young courtiers began to envy the praise they obtained, and gradually acquiring a taste for the lighter accomplishments of the mind, soon became sensible of the universal excellence and dignity of knowledge. Lydgate himself was a very general scholar, anil is said to have been acquainted, as far as the learning of his times would allow him, with geometry and astronomy, as well as theology, and tJie usual science of the schoolmen. According, however, to his own account he was little acquainted with any other language but French ; and, if this be true, we have a curious proof in his works of the immense mass of poetical erudition which was imported into this country through the medium of that language, or at least through that in combination with Italian. The illustrations with which Lydgate and others of our very early poets adorned their pages, might be profitably examin'^'d with respect to the doubts which furnished matter for the long controversy on the subject of Shakspeare's learning. Chaucer, Gower, and Lyd- gate, have allusions in their poems to almost every fable and important event, in Greek and Roman history, and even the abstrusest doctrines of Plato and Aristotle find a place in their stories, and aie dilated upon with miinite ingenuity. The curious mixtures of truth and falsehood, and the equally strange perversions of philosophy which frequently startle the sober reader of such productions, only serve to exhibit in a stronger light the disjointed masses of learning thus brought together, and the inquirer into the literature of this period cannot help being continually tempted to speculate on the state of mind which must have necessarily resulted from so remarkable a confusion of wild tradition with the profoundest discoveries of the human intellect in its most healthy condition. The catalogue which has been made of Lydgate's writings by the laborious Ritson, would lead us to regard him as one of the most fruit- ful authors of that or any other age. According to this list, he pro- duced no fewer than two hundred and fifty separate pieces, and even supposing that a large portion of these have been falsely ascribed to him, he would still appear as a writer of indefatigable industry. His chief and best known productions are the ' Fall of Princes,' the ' Siege of Thebes,' and the ' Destruction of Troy.' Among the most popular of his minor pieces was the ' Dance of Death,' a translation made from 47G LITERARY SERIES. [Tinitii the French, at the instance of the chapter of St Paul's, who employed it to illustrate the representations with which tlieir cloister was deco- rated. This was not the only production of his pen undertaken at the special request of his learned brethren. The abbot of St Albans en- gaged him to translate the life of his patron-saint into English verse, and paid him one hundred shillings for the manuscript and illuminations with which it was ornamented. He was, it appears, always at the call of those whom he esteemed, or from whom he expected a reward, and hence probably the variety and number of his poems, the light occa- sions on which some of them seem to have been written, and in part, perhaps, the little merit which some of them possess. With all the faults of diffuseness and want of vigour of which Lyd- gate has been accused, he exhibits the most derided marks of improved clearness, both in style and versification. In the elegant little poem, entitled the ' Lyfe of our Lady,' passages occur which breathe an Italian sweetness, and indicate the profit our author had received from having his ear tutored with the mellifluous flow of southern speech. The open- ing stanzas of this piece have been universally admired for their beauty, both of expression and imagery. Addressing the reader, he says, — " O thoughtfull herte plonged in distre'sse With slombre of slouth, this long wymer's night ! Out of the slepe of mortal hevinesse Awake anon, and loke upon the light Orthilke sterre, that with her bemys bright, And with the shynynge of her stremes merye, Is wont to glad all our hemisperie. This sterre in beautie passith Pleiades, Bothe of shynynge, and eke of stremes clere, Bootes, and Arctur, and also lades. And Esperus, whan that it doth appere: For this is Spica, with her brighte spere, That towarde evyn, at midnyght, and at morowe, Downe from hevyn adawith al our sorowe. — And dryeth up the bytter terys wete Of Aurora, aftei the morowe graye. That she in wepying dothe on flowres flete. In lusty Aprill, and in fresshe Maye: And causeth Phebus, the bryght somerr daye. With his wayve gold-yborned, bryght and fayre, To enchase the mystes of our cloudy aj re. Now fayre sterre, O sterre of sterrys all ! Whose lyght to se the angels do delyte. So let the gold-dewe of thy grace yfall Into my breste, lyke scalys fayre and whyte, Me to enspire!'' Numerous passages occur of equal elegance, in other parts of his works. The description given of Fortune in the ' Fall of Princes,' would bear comparison with the most admired personifications in the classical writers. Of her dress he says : — " Her habyte was of manyfolde colours, Watchet blewe of fayned stedfastnesse ; Her gold allayed like sun in watry showres, Meyxt with grene, for change and doublenesso- Pkriod.] JOHN LYDGATE. 477 The introduction of Fortune is followed by that of Caius MariuB, which gives occasion for another delineation of equal j)ower:— *• " Blacke wus his weiie, and his hubyte also, His heod unkempt, his lockis liore and gray. His loke duuno-cast in token of sorowe and wo. On his chokes tlio salti? tearcs lay, Which bare recorile of liis dcailly alfray. His robo stayned was wiili Roniayne biode, His sworde aye redy whid to di vengeance; Lyke ii tyraunt njost furyouso and wode, In slaughter and inurdre set at liis plesaunce." Of his skill in description, the following will give a favourable idea- lie is speaking of Polymite wandering through a wilderness: — " Holding his way, of herte nothing light, Wate and weary, till it draweth to niglit : And al the day beholding ewirnon, He neither sawe ne castle, towre, ne town ; The which thing greveth him full sore. And sodenly the see began to rore, Winde and tempest hidiously to arise, The rain doun beten in ful grisly wise ; That many li beast thereof was adrad, And nigh for fere gan to waxe mad, As it seemed by the full wofuU sownes. Of tigers, beres, of bores, and of lionnes ; Which to refute, and himself for to save, Evrich in haste draweth to his cave." It is, however, in descriptions of morning, or of soft and bowery siiades, that the genius of Lydgate chiefly delighted to expatiate, and in these, its favourite subjects, it may challenge equality with Chaucer, or any other poet in the language. Take, for example, the following : — " Tyll at the last, among the bowes glade, Of adventure, I caught a plesaunt shade; Ful smothe, and playn, and lusty for to sene, And soft as velvette was the yonge grene : Where from my hors 1 did alight as fast, And on a bowe aloft his reyne cast So faynte and wate of werynesse I was, That I me layd adoune upon the gras, Upon a brinks, shortly for to telle, liesyde the river of a cristall welie; And the water, as I reherse can. Like quicke-silver in his streames yran, Of which the gravell and the brighte sione. As any golde, agaynst the sun yshone." The morning is thus desci'ibed : — " When that the rowes and the rayes reddu Eastward to us full early ginnen spredde, Even at the twylyght in the dawneynge. Whan that the larke of custom ginneth syngc. For to salue in her heavenly laye, The lusty goddesse of the morowe graye, I meane Aurora, which afore the sunne Is wont t' enchase the blacke skyes dunne, And al the darknesse of the dimmy night: And freshe Phebiis, with comforte of his lis^hv. And with the bri^htnes of his hemes sheiie. Hath overgylt the huge hylles grene ; And flowres eke, agayn the morowe-tide, Upon their stalkes gan playn their leaves wide," It is from such passages as these that the opinions which Winstanley md others have expressed on the comparative merits of Lydgate, seem wortliy of attention. According to their notion, " He was the best poet of his age, for if Chaucer's coin were of greater weight for deepei learning, Lydgate's was of a more refined standard for purer language.' Of the value which was set upon his writings in his own age, some idea may be formed from the expense bestowed in binding and illustrating them, and from their being regarded as a fit present to the most exalted personages. Thus the abbot of St Albans spent no less than three pounds — a large sum for that period — on the binding of the poem which Lydgate wrote at his desire ; and tlie manuscript of that vvhich lie com- posed in commemoration of St Edmund, and which was presented to Henry the Sixth on his visit to Bury, is one of the most splendidly ornamented in existence. Not only are the initial letters executed in colours of the greatest brilliancy, but the poetry itself is illustrated with no less than a hundred and twenty designs, exquisitely painted, and among which are portraits of Lydgate himself, of the abbot of St Edmund's monastery, and two of the king, in one of which he is seen on his throne with the abbot kneeling before him, and presenting the manuscript. In the other he is represented under the figure of a child praying prostrate on a carpet before the shrine of the patron saint. From these circumstances, and from the intrinsic merit of his poems, there can be little doubt but that Lydgate deserves a conspicuous place among the fathers of English poetry. He is, by turns, forcible and tender; and though his genius was far less inventive than that of Chau- cer, and his productions, in consequence, are greatly inferior in all those points which regard delineation of character, or narration, he was not unworthy to succeed him in the simpler walks of the muse. In them he followed his great master with a faithful, though a mild and gentle spirit, nor ought it ever to be forgotten tiiat he was the first of our poets to infuse into the language the sweetness and amenity of Italian. 3fliri)aiK of Cijidjestn*. FLOR. CIRC. A. D. 1360. The earliest date which occurs in the scanty memorials of this writer's life, is that of 1330, when he joined the fraternity of the Benedictine monastery of Saint Peter's, Westminster. Nothing is known of his parentage, or of the place of his education, but it is inferred from the erudition he displayed in subsequent years, that he must have enjoyed the advantages which were at that time only open to tlie more respect- able classes of the community. The greater part of his life appears to have been spent in *Jie monastery, to which he attached himself at the time above mentioned, his name occurring in the abbey rolls, as late as the year 1399, that is nearly fifty years after his unitins: himself to Period.] 1?ICHARI) OF CHICHESTER. 479 the society. During this long period, however, the monotony of con- ventual seclusion was broken by his active application to the study of the old IJiitisli and Anglo-Saxon antiquities. In this pursuit, he made such important advances, that he received the honourable aj)peIIation of tin; Ilistoriograijiier, and one oF his biogiapiiers asserts, that he was allowed to make a tour for tiie purpose of" inspecting the princii)al lib- raries of the kingdom. We can scarcely imagine any undertaking more likely to prove useful to the age in which he lived than this. Many valuable maimscripts must have by that time become unintelligible, and almost forgotten, in the several depositaries where they had been hoarded up. 13ut the fact rests on the single testimony of Pits, who has given no clue for the discovery of the source whence he derived his information. Some probability is added to his statement from the krown fact of Richard of Chichester's extensive acquaintance with matters of ancient British history, and it woidd scarcely seem likely that an author devoted to such a branch of learning, could remain con- tented without examining the stores of information to be found in various parts of the kingdom. It is also reasonable to suppose, that a writer whose chief object it was to elucidate the antiquities of his own country, would not fail to employ the advantages he possessed for tra- velling to explore its treasures, before turning his attention to those of foreign countries. The well-accredited fact, that in the latter part of his life, he visited Italy, and spent some time at Rome, tlius tends to confirm the tradition of his having collected the materials of his works, from an actual examination of the great libraries belonging to the eccle siastical establislnnents of England. The period fixed for his Italian journey is that which occurred between the years 1391 and 1397. He is said to have lived but four or live years alter his return, and to have been interred in the abbey cloisters. From the catalogue of his works, Richard of Chichester appears to have been a man of general ability and learning, and there is reason for considering him one of the most useful scholars of his age. Besides his principal treatise, that 'De Situ Britanniae,' he wrote a tract on the Greater and Lesser Creed, and another on Ecclesiastical Offices, and a History of England from the time of Hengist to the year 1348. Of this work, however, Dr Whittaker gives but a poor character. "The hope," says he, "of meeting with discoveries as great in the Roman, British, and Saxon history, as he has given us concerning the preceding period, induced me to examine the work. But my expectations were greatly disappointed. Tiie learned scholar and the deep antiquarian, I found sunk into an ignorant novice, sometimes the copier of Hunting- don, but generally the transcriber of Geoffrey. Deprived of his Roman guides, Richard showed himself as ignorant and as injudicious as any of his illiterate contemporaries about him in Italy." Notwithstanding the license he obtained to travel, and the tour which he is supposed to have taken in search of British antiquities, the superiors of his monastery appear at one time to have regarded the pursuits in which he was engaged with no favourable eye. In one part of his work De Situ Britannia, he represents himself as arguing with some one in defence of his studies; "Of what service," iisked his oppo- nent, "are these things but to delude the world with unmeaning trifles?" To which he replies, "Do not such narratives exhibit proofs of divine 480 LITERARY SERIES. [Third providence? Does it not hence appear, that an evangelical sermon concerning the death and merits of Christ enlightened and subdued a world overrun with Gentile superstitions? In the remark that such things are properly treated of in systems of chronology, I rejoin: nor is it too much to know that our ancestors were not, as some assert, autoc- thones, sprung from the earth; but that God opened the book of nature to display his omnipotence, such as it is described in the book of Moses." But from what follows, he seems to have felt dissatisfied with his own reasoning, for he says, "When the abbot answered, that works which were intended merely to acquire reputation for their authors from pos- terity, should be committed to the flames, I confess with gratitude that I repented of this undertaking. The remainder of the work is therefore only a chronological abridgment, which I present to the reader, whom I commend to the goodness and protection of God; and at the same time request that he will pray for me to our Holy Father, who is merciful and inclined to forgiveness." This passage is curious and valuable as enabling us to judge in sonic degree of the personal character of the author. He was evidently a man of enlightened mind, or he would not have thought of leaving the circle of monastic study ; but it is equally clear that he was conscientiously alive to the duties of his profession, or he would never have so readily yielded to the sugges- tions of his opponents. CORN CIRC. A. D. 1378. DIED A. D. 1461. The date of this writer's birth is uncertain ; but the best authenti- cated accounts fix it about the year 1378. He is also supposed on the same authority to have been a native of one of the northern counties, and to have sprung from a family of distinction in that part of the kingdom. As was the custom of the age, his parents placed him, iu his twelfth year, in the household of Percy, earl of Northumberland, in whose service he continued till he was twenty-five. By this time he was accomplished in all the acquirements requisite to the rank he held in life, and in the famous battle of Shrewsbury, which took place in 1403, he distinguished himself so well, as ever after to enjoy the repu- tation of being an excellent soldier. Some confusion of dates has puzzled his biographers in this part of his memoirs, and he has been said to have won his first laurels in the defence of Roxburgh castle against the Scots. This statement, however, has been proved incor- rect, and the battle of Shrewsbury was, without doubt, the occasion of his earliest display of military talent. Courage, patriotism, and sagacity, were exhibited in the next ad- venture, of which mention is made in the few notices that remain of his life. It had been long the desire of the English monarchs to prove that the kings of Scotland were legally bound to do them homage for their crowns. But this could not be effected without documents, and no political ingenuity had as yet been able to discover the means by which such vouchers were to be procured. But Harding at length un- dertook to make his way into Scotland for the express purpose of ob- I'iiuioD,] JULLVNA liEllNERS. 481 hilling possession of such of tlu- national insuuinenis as might be suf- licient to solve tiie point in disi)ute in the manner the English desired. The common opinion is tliat he succeeded in his hazardous attempt, and that he really presented the valuable documents in (juestion to hJs mon- areii. Ritson, howt-ver, boldly declares that " he was a most dextei- ous forger," and that lie "obtained great rewards from Henry the Sixth and Edward the Fourth, for a number of supposititious charters oj fealty and homage from the Scottish monarehs to the kings of l-lngland, which he pretended to have obtained in Scotland at tlie liazara of his life." But the milder supposition, ami that which best accords with the general accounts of his life and character is, that he was himself de eeived as to the genuineness of the j)aj)ers he presented ; that he ob- tained them at the risk of his personal safety, as is related, but thu they were forgeries })alined upon him by serine cunning deceiver. In whatever way Harding became possessed of these documents, they acquired him tlie constant favour of his king, and led iiim, in the end, to compose the work for which alone he is named in literary his- tory : ' The Chronicle of England into the reignc of King Edward the Fourth, in verse.' But this production exhibits none of those graces which Chaucer and his cotemporaries had introduced into the national poetry. The former of these writers died when Harding had just reached manhood ; and his works must have been familiar to him when he became an author. Little credit, tlu>refore, can be allowed him for [)oetie talent; but his chronicle is not w^ithout its value, and the anti- quary turns to it with pleasure, as a curious, though bold and una- dorned narrative of actual events He died about the year I4fU. ?talig Juliana Bniurs. BORN CIRC. A. 1). 1388. The reign of Edward IV. was graced by one female authoress, tht Lady Juliana, sister to Richard Lord Berners, and prioress of the nun- nery of Sopewell. Mr Ballard supjioses that this lady Mas born at Roding in Essex, about the beginning of the 15th century. If, how- ever, the general opinion be correct, that she was the daughter of Sir James Berners of Berners-Roding, her birth must have been earlier In ^ome years than Mr Ballard supposes : for Sir James was beheaded in 1388. From the few biographical notices which we possess of the Lady Juliana, we are led to conclude that she was not less distinguished for beauty and elegance of j)erson, than for mental accomplishments. Holin- shed speaks of her as " a gentlewoman indued with excellent giftes of boily and mind," and informs us that she was very fond of some mas- culine amusements, especially the sports of the field. Her skill in hiintmg and hawking was so great, that she composed treatises upon tliesc; sports in verse, which were so highly esteemed that they were published wiiile the art of printing was yet in its infancy in England, m the famous ' Boke of St Alban's ;' the first edition of whicii is sup- posed to have been printed at the monastery of St Alban's in 1481. An edition of this ' boke,' published at London in 1595, bears the tolhnnng lith, — " The gentleman's academic, or tiie liook of St Al- 1 13 p 482 LITERAEY SERIES. [TniRn ban's ; containing three most exact and excellent books, the first of hawking, the second of all the proper terms of hunting, and the last of armory ; all compiled by Juliana Barnes, in the year from the in- carnation of Christ, 1486 ; and now reduced into better method by S. M." It is pretty clear that the editor of this edition ascribes a false date to Lady Juliana's performances. Sir James Berners' daughter, if alive at this period, must have been nearly one hundred years old, — no very likely age certainly to find amusement in discoursing on field sports. The colophon of the St Alban's edition runs thus : — " And here now endeth the boke of chasyng of armys, translatyt and coni- pylyt togedyr at Saint Albons, the yere from thyncarnacyon of oui Lorde Jhesu Crist, mcccclxxxvi ;" but, it has been justly observed, all that we are entitled to infer from this is, that that part of the work wliich relates to heraldry was not written by Lady Juliana, although generally ascribed to her. Mr Haslewood, the editor of an excellent fac-simile reprint of the Boke of St Albans, as printed by Wynkyn de Worde, is of opinion that the only portions of the volume which can with certainty be attributed to Lady Juliana, are, 1st, a small portion of the treatise on hawking ; 2d, the treatise upon hunting ; 3d, a short list of the beasts of chase ; and, 4th, another list of beasts and fowls. The following sort of lyrical epilogue to the book of hunting is no> entirely devoid of merit: — " A faithful friend would 1 fain find, To find him there he niight be found •, But now is the world wext so unkind. That friendship is fall to the ground. Now a friend I have found, That I will neither ban} ne curse ; But, of all friends in field or town, Ever gramercy mine own purse. My purse it is my privy wife : (This song I dare both sing and say:) It parteth men of muche strife, When every man for himself shall pay. As I ride in rich array For gold and silver men will me fioiirish ' By this matter I dare well say Ever gramercy mine own purse. As I ride with gold so rede, And have to do with landjs law, Men for my money will make me speed. And for my goods they will me knawe Alore and less to me will draw, Both the better and the worse : By this matter I say in sawe^ Ever gramercy mine own purse. It fell by me upon a lime, As it hath doo by many one vw, Aly horse, my neat, my sheep, my swine. And all my goods they fell me fro ; I went to my friends and told them so ; And home again they bade me truss: ' Execrate. ' Probably fiatta- ; but the rhyme u> indefeiisitie. ' I'roverhially. ,'Ereioi).] WILLIAM CAXTON. 483 I «;it(l again, when I was wo, Evur {;niinor('y mine uwn (jurse. Tlicrefore I rede you, sires all, To assay your tVlciuIs or ye liave need : For, and ye come down and have a (';dl. Full lew of them for you uill yrede.* Tlierefore, assa)' them e\eiy one, Both the belter and the worse. — Our Lord, that shope both sun aii' ] WILL1A.M CAXTON. iS!i this work were undertaken at the request of the duchess, but were de- layed above ten years by the fears whicli Caxton entertained of his in- ability to execute the task. He luis himself left vi\ n c-ord the time employed in this — for tliat age — laborious enterpriz.-. " The; transla- tion," he says, " was b(>gun in Bruges, the first of Marehe, in the yere 14(58, continued in Gaunt, and finished in Colen, the l!)th of Septem- lier, 1471." But this was the least fatiguing part of t.h(! design. The version being completed, he tlien " deliberated in himself,"''says he, "to take the labour in hand of printing it together with the third book of the destruction of Troye, translated of late by John Lytkate, a monk of Burye, in English ritual." It is not nnpleasing to he"ar liim utter his complaints respecting the fiitigues he Iiad undergone in writ- ing the translation. " Thus," <=ays he^ " end I this book, and for a.s muche as in wrytynge of the same, my penne is worne, myno hand W(My, and myne eyes dimmed with overmuche lokyinge on the wijit paper; and that age crepeth on nie daily, and feebleih all the body, and also because I have promised to dyverce gentlemen and to my frendes to addresse to them as hastily 'as I might this said booke ; therefore I have practised and learned, at my great charge and dis-' pense, to ordeyne this said booke in prynte after the manner and forme as ye may here see, and is not writen with penne and ynke as other bookes been, to the end that every man may have them attones for all the bookes of this streye named. The Bccuyell of the Historye of Troye, thus imprinted as ye here see, were bcgonnc in one day, ana also finished in one day." Before leaving the continent, Caxton had also printed another work of some extent, — Bartholomeus de Proprietatibiis Rerum ; but the date of his return to England is a subject of dispute; and the only settled point in the chronology of this part of his life, is, that in the year 1471 he was regularly established in Westminster as a printer. The ' Dictes or Sayengis' of the philosophers, appeared from his press at that period, and the fame he had acquired by his art not only introduced him to tile principal men of the country, but procured him the privi- lege of carrying on his business in the almonry of the abbey, — a circum- sstance which is to this day kept in mind, by the appellation of the chapel, the common name among printers of their work-room. The works which Caxton now produced in quick succession, are too numerous to allow of our giving their titles. For some tin)e he was the only one who practised the art in this country, but a few years after his establishment in Westminster, some person set up the business at Oxford, and such was the increasing demand for books, that in 1483. an act of parliament was passed, entitling " any artificer or merchanf ^tranger, of whatever realm or country he was or should be of, to bring into the realme and selle by retaile or otherwise, aine bookes written or printed," there being, it was stated, " but few printers within the reainie, which could well exercise and occupie the science and cratte of printing." We should form, however, but a very imperfect idea of Caxton's charac- ter, did we view him simply as a printer at this time. While anxiously engaged in overcoming the many difficulties which necessarily attend the exercise of any new art, he was also occupied in producing liy his own pen, most of the works on which his press was to be employed, besides several other translations from the French, he produced one o{ 4:86 LITEEAEY SERIES. TTiriRr Ovid's Metamorphoses from that language in 1480, and about the same time finished printing his work, entitled ' The Chronicles of England.' The following year, appeared the translation of Godfrey of Bolognc, ivliich he says he made "to the ende that every Christen man may be the better convinced, the enterprize was for the defense of Christendom, and to recover the said cyte of Jerusalem." Cicero's Treatises ou Old age and of Friendshi]i, followed soon after, and in 1482, the cele- brated Polychronicon of Barnulph Higden, translated into English by Trevisa. In the preface to this work, Caxton says, " that he liad care- fully rewritten it, and had somewhatt changed the rude and olde Eng- lish, that is to wyte certayne wordes which in these dayes are neither used ne understude." Nothing appears with the name of Caxton, after 1490, and accord- ing to the calculation of his most curious biographers, he was then noi less than ninety years of age. He M'as still, however, employed, and the last effort of his industry was directed to the translation of the " Vike Pair am, or the righte devout and solitairye lyfe of the anciente or olde holy faders, hermytes dwellyinge in the deserts." It is a sin- gular circumstance, that he concluded this work on the day he died, *"hich event took place in the latter end of May, or the beginning of June 149:2. He was succeeded in his business by a German printer, named De Unde, whom he brought with him from the continent, and an apprentice of his soon after set up the trade in the city. Printing establishments were now also to be found in several other ])arts of the kingdom, and in proportion to the extension of the business, the ma terials of the art became improved. It has been observed, that some ol the most admirable specimens of typography were produced in the age immediately succeeding its invention ; and when it is considered, that the first types used were cut out of wood, — that after the manufacture of metallic letters, the preparations for printing the Vulgate, published at Mentz in 1450, occupied eight years, — and that it was not till 1439 the easting of metal types was introduced, — surprise may well be felt, when the clear and beautiful pages are perused which proceeded from the press before the close of the century. The character which Caxton bore in his private capacity, was that of a pious, industrious, and, in all respects most virtuous man. His education had been that of a tradesman only, and he often obser\ed that his learnhig vvas confined to an acquaintance with English and French Uninstructed however, as he had been in the higher walks of scholar- ship, he did much towards enlarging the circle of general literature in this country, and though several of the works he published arc strongly embued with the errors common to his age, they were in many respects calculated to create a love of reading, and quicken the appetite for in- telligence. To the book of Chivalry which he translated from the French, he affixed an epilogue of his own composition, and did we possess no other means of judging of his character but that, we shouhl be greatly inclined to give him ])raise for tlie most generous love of benevolence and high morality. HISTORICAL INTRODUCTION TO FOURTH PERIOD, EXTEXDINO FltOM THE ACCESSION OF HENRY VII. TO THE ACCESSION OF JAMES I., WITH BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICES OF EMINENT E N G L I S H M E N WHO FLOURISHED DURING THAT PERIOD, HISTORICAL INTRODUCTION FOURTH PERIOD Termination of the strufjgle betwixt the liouses of York anil Lancaster — Foreisjn relations of Englanti — Commercial spirit of ttie times — State of the country— The Reformation — Its origin — Progress under Henry VIII. — Under Edward VI. — Re- lijjious struj!;gles of Mary's reign — General vievv of Elizabeth's reign — Of English literature. The ycfir 1485 is remarkable in the history of England, as that in which the war betwixt the rival houses of York and Lancaster was ter- minated by the battle of Boswortb, and the earl of Richmond was seated as Henry Vll. on the English throne. His accession, founded on a very disputable claim, was followed by attempts against his govern- ment from among the opposite party in the state, but his power and influence survived. By his marriage with a princess of the rival family of York, his son. and successor Henry VIII. could advance a stronger hereditary claim; and under the latter monarch, and his three children. Edward, Mary, and Elizabeth — all of them, in course, his successors on the throne — there occurred in England some of the most remarkable transactions which its history records. So prominently, however, did almost all the reigning monarchs of this period act in the public mat- ters that pertain to it, that these transactions are, to a great degree, involved in our sketches of the sovereigns themselves, and in this intro- ductory sketch we shall only glance at certain prominent features in this memorable period of English history. England was wont to stand in a side or central relation, as it were, to the contending interests and discordant politics of the great conti- nental powers; and in the period under review we find its arms directed, now against France, and anon against Spain, that country's formidable enemy. War with France was declared early in the reign of Henry VII., and in 1522, hostilities against that country were renewed by his son and successor Henry VIII. which, at intervals, were continued afterwards. But the wars with Spain during this eventful period present a more impos- ing and memorable scene. It is not until the reign of Elizabeth, however, that they assume such peculiar interest, as of vast religious and national importance. In that reign, Philip II. and the English queen — separated I. 3 Q 490 HISTOKICAi INTRODUCTION l)y character and religion — carried on a course of mutual hostility, in the progress of which, English influence was established in the revolted provinces of the Low countries, and English glory was swelled by the defeat of the boasted ' Invincible Armada.* These circumstances may serve to explain the extent to which military and naval distinctions adorn the names of English nobles and English commoners in this period of British history. It may be added, that Scotland and Ireland were also the scenes of English warfare in the course of these busy times. In Elizabeth's reign, in particular, the wish to gratify a queen who set her heart on the success of naval and military enterprise; — the sense of actual danger to the independence and religion of the country, from the bigotry and energy of Spain, — the hopes inspired by pros- perous efforts, — and the honour of engaging in the bold aad enterprising adventures of the time, are motives which may all have tended to ren- der the court of Elizabeth so chivalrous a scene, and her reign so re- markable a period in the naval and military annals of the land. But even in the 13th century, the foreign enterprise of England, corresponding to the parallel cases of Spain and Portugal, assumes the aspect rather of geographical discovery or commercial enterprise than of political hostility. The laws respecting trade, indeed, which were passed during this period, partook, of that restrictive character to which, in later times, political economists have furnished formidable objections but the commercial spirit was abroad, and to this period belong souk^ memorable facts in the history of our mercantile and maritime affairs. It was in 1487, that the cape of Good Hope was discovered by Bar- tholomew Diaz, and in 1492, that America was first explored by Chris- topher Columbus. Following in the train of these great events was a voyage of discovery which the English navigator Sebastian Cabot, undertook in 1495, by letters patent from Henry VIl. who, by the erection of the celebrated ship, the Great Harry, may be said, accord- ing to Mr Hume, to have begun the English navy. This is not the place for a minute detail of the discoveries of Cabot, or the voyages of Drake, or other remarkable incidents in the naval or commercial his- tory of England : but as symptomatic of the times, and as presenting important points in that history, it may here be noticed, that in the brilliant reign of Queen Elizabetii — the last in the period under review — we find established a trade with Muscovy and Turkey, — the Royal Ex- change was built, — interest was legalized, — a charter was granted to the East India company, — and, in the year 1582, there were upwards of 12,000 English ships, of which, however, only 217 were of more than 80 tons burden. The well known energy of the Tudor princes, acting on the acknow- ledged powers and prerogatives of the English sovereign, renders the period of their successive reigns a scene of monarchical authority and parliamentary submission somewhat revolting jierhaps to the modern freeman. But in the parliaments — at least of the two female sovereigns of the line — mere are discerned the risings of the sentiments and energy which produced such mighty changes in succeeding reigns. This period, however, has been remarked for the comparative order and quiet established in the country. " In the disorderly state of England under the Plantagenets, who governed it from about the middle of the TO FOUUTII rEllIOD. 491 12th till towards tho end of the loth century," says Dr. Adam Smith,' " one district might he in plenty, while another, at no great distance, li;^ htiving its crop destroyed, either hy some accident of the seasons, or liy the incursion of some neighhouring baron, might be suflering all the horrors of a famine; and yet if the lands of some hostile lord were in- terposed between them, the one might not be able to give the least as- sistance to tho other. Under the vigorous administration of the Tudors, who governed England during the latter part of the \C>t\\, aiid through the Avhole of the KJth century, no baron was powerful enough to dis- turb the public security." But among the various changes in the condition of England belonging to this period, assuredly none is more memorable than the reformation of the church. It has been often observed, that the Reformation was not in England the result of wise deliberations, or the natural fruit of popu- lar improvement. In this remark there is truth on tho surface, but error in the centre and the application. Few important revolutions have been brought about by the direct influence of reason. In the in- stances in which such attempts have been made, they have usually failed, or led to very inadequate results, the speculations of the wisest men being a far too uncertain substratum for the movements of the multitude. When closely looked at, moreover, the above observation will lose much of its force as an historical dogma. It will be recollected, that if Henry the Eighth was the prime mover of the Reformation in this coun- try, and began his measures from motives rather personal than public, the same has been the case with reformei-s of much higher and purer chai-acters, and that some of the grandest and most useful changes ever produced in the world have owed their beginning to circumstances as unlike the result as the clod is to the richly-scented plant which it nourishes. The careful observer, however, can hardly fail to discover a much stronger connexion between the reformation of religion in Eng- land and the state of the community, than is sometimes supposed to have been the case. He will see that there had long been a tendency in the church itself to break the bonds in which the Eoman pontiff de- sired to hold it; and he will perceive, moreover, that this tendency of the church to liberate itself was working with the slow motion of an hour-hand, Avhile the opinion of the peojile was urging on to the same point with the celerity of a minute-hand. It was next to impossible, m fact, that a community should be incessantly bent on resisting the im- position of taxes, and saving their money by every feasible plan of eco- nomy, and not look M'itli a suspicious eye on the enormous revenue of the clergy. Still more unlikely is it that they should have been advanc- ing in intelligence, — have begun to form correct notions of law and right policy, and corrected many of their views on practical subjects, without discovering that they were burdened by the priesthood with practices which had no connexion with the pure religion of the gospel. These were the preventing causes of the Reformation in England, so far as mere human and temporary circumstances can be considered in that light, and to examine and watch their action, combined as they soon were with causes of a ditlerent and more spiritual nature, is an employ- 1 Wealth of Nations, Book I. cliap. xi. 4:)2 HISTORICAL INTRODUCTION inent worthy of the highest order of intellects. From the reign of Hf-nry the Eighth, men of every species of talent, and of every class of character, found themselves invested with new importance, — excited to action by new impulses both from within and without, — and called upon to perform duties which, if not themselves new, had a novel and wider range of influence. The great conflict of the reforming division of the clergy with those who yet supported the Roman doctrines and discipline, called into play ev.-iy particle of knowledge and ability which eithei party possessed. IMany displays, therefore, of extraordinary talent may be looked for in this period without disappointment. Scliokirship no; only rose in value among scholars, but became a commodity of intelligi- ble, palpable worth with the multitude: it was recognised as the powei by which the highest interests were to be settled, and those who possessed it were at once raised to tlie most conspicuous stations in the community. The love of gaiety, the courtly luxury and splenilour, which at the same time distinguisheil the age, called forth many a sparkling wit, and nour- ished the infant arts into partial maturity. Nor was either war, or political business wanting for the employment of talents of another de- scription; so that this era furnishes tiie biographer with a fruitful field of inquiry, and both in a literary, and purely historical sense, is deserving of the most careful study. The reign of Edward the Sixth, was too sliort to realize the expecta- tions which had been formed respecting the effect of his auspices on science, the reformed religion, and whatever pertained to the public prosperity. But brief as it was, it served to strengthen the operation (if the good principles which had begun to work in the days of his lather. The reformed doctrines, as they became better understood, were more clearly expounded and more zealously defended. The piety of the young king invited men of virtue and integrity to the court, and placed them in the highest offices of trust. His own attachment to learning, like that of his father, contributed greatly to its more general and ardent cultivation. In his boyhood even, he was accustomed to write to his sisters, the princesses Mary and Elizabeth, in I/atin. He was, however, at all times ready to enter upon the discussion of questions, not only of the most difficult nature, but of such as only a prince, surrounde(i by the most honest instructors and councillors, would have ventured to ap- proach. The account given of his conversation with the celebrated astronomer Cardan, has been rightly quoted as a proof of the exceeding ingenuity and acuteness of his mind. " He asked me," says the philoso- pher, " what was the subject of my book De Rerwn varietate, which I liad dedicated to him." " I said, in the first chapter I show the cause of comets, which has been so long sought for in vain." " What is it ?" " It is the concourse of the light of the wandering stars." But the king saiil, " as the stars move in such different motions, this concourse must be dissipated or moved by their movement." Cardan replied, " it moves after them, and with more celerity, as a rainbow from glass, or as the sun shines on a wall." " How can that be?" rejoined the young king, " there is nothing like a wall in the sky to receive this light." Cardan, it is added tiiought he answered this defeating remark by comparing his concourse with the milky way, or the lucid middle space between many lighted candles. Convinced however of Edward's al)ilitv, who was then TO FOUUTIl I'EHIOD. 493 only 111 lu::i liftocnth year, ho warmly praises Lis accomplishmcntd, am) roiuarks that he "spoke Latin not lens jndUe et ])ro7npte than himself." - Under the jjatronage of such a ])rince, it is not surprising' to /ind the universities becoming,' in the true sense of the expression, '' seminaries of sound learniiif; and n-ligious education." The nation, liowever, was still in a sufticicntly agitated state with regard to ndigion, to call for the most energetic exertion on the part of tiie reformers, ])otl) priests and statesmen. Such was the irritation which pnjvailed among the teachers .if the gos])el at this time, that it was deemed necessary to interdict tln-ir exercise of ])rivate judgment as to wiiat they should say in the per- formance of their public duties. This singular ordinance is said to have been framed, because that certain of the licensed preachers had " behaved tliemselves irreverently, and wiliiout good order in their preachin<'s," and that therefore, "all manner of persons, whosoever they be, are in- iiibited to ])reach in open audience in the pulpit or otherwise, by any sought colour or fraud, to the disobeying of this commandment, to the intent that the wliolo clergy in this mean space, might apply themselves to j)rayer to Almighty God, for the better achieving of the same most Godly intent and purjiose, &c."^ The means employed by the enemies of the reformation to overcome the obstacle thus })Iaced in the way o( their invectives, is in some degree ciiaracteristic of the times, and of the state both of literature and jiul)lic feeling. In the emphatic lan- guage of the old historian, •' the pulpit being shut and silent by procla- mation, the stage was the more open and vocal for the same : the popish j)riests which, though unseen, stood beliind the hanging, or lurked in the tyriiig-housi', removed their invectives from sermons to plays, and a more proper place indeed for the venting thereof."* No sooner \v;is this licentiousness of the stage observed, than another ordinance was issued, prohibiting for a time dramatic performances. But neither this, nor the proclamation which silenced the pulpits remained long in force, and con- sidering the acknowledged authority of such ordinances, and the excited state of the public mind, tlicre is much greater reason to applaud the prudence and humanity of the government, than there would have been, liad it allowed either the clergy or the players to foment treason, and then punished them for the crime. The principles of toleration, how- ever, were as yet but very imperfl^ctly understood, and some of the best men of the age lell, it is well known, into the wretched error of sujjjjos- ing that they had a right to rule over the consciences of men with a rod of iron. While men of piety allowed themselves to be tluis deluded bv their zeal, others of a diflerent character, gladly seized upon the coin- inon motives to contention, to forward their own designs. Thus the reign of the pious and amiable Edward was disfigured by several events of tlie darkest hue, and which indicate through how many obstacles the light of truth and rational freedom had yet to penetrate before it reached tiie heart of the connnonwealth. The sanguinary struggles of IMary's reign afford a melancholy proo of the fervour and intense devotion which pervaded the hearts"^ of thj Protestants. In tracing the history of tiieir leaders, — of the men who exhorted them to persevere in their holy profession, and set them the • Turner's History of llu'gns of Etl.vartl VI. &c. y. ];, the attentions of the haugiity aiursul- len Philip, by conceding to him the authority which she had alone the right to assume, — these were all in manifest opposition to that spirit of freedom and intelligence which had now obtained a wide influence in the community. Both religiously and politically, therefore, the country had the strongest motives for hailing with satisfaction the accession ot Elizabeth; and we may ascribe much of that fresh, spring-like "aiptv and vigour which characterize the literature of this age, to the suddeii and felicitous impulse which the general mind thus received. There was, however, a numerous set of obstacles in the way of those im])rove- ments in the state of the country, which were so devoutly to be de- sired. Though the direst of evils had been incurred by the people at large, from the anxiety and distrust consequent on persecution, there was a large multitude who would have gladly endured a continuance of those evils rather than see the protestants fi-eed from danger. The situation, moreover, in which the nation was placed, in reh^rcnce to foreign potentates, demanded the most cautious counsels ; and while, on the one hand, a feeling of triumph inspired many, there were others who, equally joyful at the change, were sobered into the exercise of the most tiioughtful prudence. An admirable class of men w;is thus brought intc. action by tiie necessities of the time, while the brightening prospects which it exhibited gave birth to the happiest spirit of poetry and the arts. Among Elizabeth's earliest counsellors were some of the wisest politi- cians whose names are to be found in English history. Sir Nicholas Bacon, Cecil, Walsingham, stand at the head of those public men to whom we are indebted for the introduction of that enlightened system of politics which set the Machiavellisra of foreign courts at dettance Had it not been for their calm and temperate advice, the sudden change which the protestants found in their condition might have been the cause of new offences — not the less dangerous because from another quarter — against justice and religion. The address with which Bacon, as lord-keeper, opened the parliament, is a valuable illustrative docu- ment, and serves as a key to the characters and opinions of many of the most conspicuous men of the day. It was his object, he said, to lay before them " the distracted state of the nation, both in matters of religion and the other miseries that the wars and late calamities had brought upon them." " For religion," he remarked, " the queen desired they would consider of it without heat or partial affection, or usmg any reproachful term of papist or heretic ; and that they would avoid the extremes of idolatry and superstition on the one hand, and contempt and irreligijn on the other; and that they would examine mattei-s' 4D6 HISTORICAL INTRODUCTION without sophistical nicetios, or too subtle speculations, and endeavour to settle things so as might bring the people to an uniformity and cor- dial agreement in them." In regard to the state of the nation, he de- clared, that the queen was very unwilling to lay any new impositions upon them, and that, notwithstanding her necessities, "she would de- sire no supply, but what they did freely and cheerfully offer." ^ The advice which Cecil gave her majesty on the toi)ics alluded to in this speech, was founded on a similar cautiousness of temper, and gives a striking picture of the real difficulties which environed the na- tion in its passage from the late period of darkness and trouble. " The bishop of Rome," said he, " will be incensed : he will excom- municate the queen, interdict the realm, give it a prey to all princes that will enter upon it, and stir them up to it by all manner of means. The French king will be encouraged more to the war. He will be in great hope of aid from hence, of those discontented with this alteration, looking for tumults and discords. Scotland will have the same causes of boldness. Ireland also will be very difficultly stayed in obedience, bv reason of the clergy; that is so addicted to Rome."'' But notwith- standing the threatening aspect of the continent, and the fearful bal- ancing of strength between the hottest partizans of the opposite sys- tems, the kingdom found itself, in a short time, again advancing to prosperity. The difficulties with which the partizans of the Reforma- tion were surrounded, served but to stimulate their leaders to more strenuous exertions: the dangers which threatened the nation from abroad were met by an increased and more lively patriotism; the par- liament and the sovereign were closely united in furthering tlie same purposes; and the church, now aided by the talents and the experi- ence of men who had learned much in suffering, emerged from the cloiid with which the sanguinary fumes of persecution had envelo])ed it. The most general view of the commencement of Elizabeth's reign enables us to discover many prognostics of its subsequent splendour. A superintending and almighty Providence appears to have so ordered it, that the establishment of the reformed religion should be attended, in this country, with the most manifest signs of its utility. Thus the purify- ing of the church, as to its rites and ceremonies, was followed by a corresponding improvement in the intellectual condition of the people: the advancement of theological science, by the aid of sound learning, more practical than dogmatical, but sufficiently doctrinal to show its constant bearing on divine truth, seemed to prepare the way for the greatest reformation in every other species of study that had as yet been experienced. And this may fairly lead us to observe, that Eliza- beth's reign was throughout distinguished by the cultivation of objects of utility; that it was the very opposite of those in which the ap- ])earance of prosperity resulted from the factitious display of unprofit- able conquests; and that we have hence a very striking proof, how far preferable is the dominion of common sense, of sound practical intelli- gence, even for poetical literature, to the rule of gaiety and luxury, where the ordinary interests of mankind are forgotten. Elizabeth's reiirn was the golden age of English literature, because religion and the homely duties, both of public and of private life, were cultivated with l- Burnet's Hist. Refomi. vol. ii. p. 500. 6 Turner, note, p. 315. TO FOURTH rERIOD. 497 assiduous care. TIio sovercii,'!!, in licr sphere, was an example to each of her subjects in theirs. She was not averse to clicerful di.splays of .vealth, but slie was ever anxious to i)rovi(lc for its security. " Sho luude some i)rogress," it is said of her, " in paying' those great debts which hiy U2)on the crown; she regulated the coin, which had been much debased by her predecessors; she furnished her arsenals with gre:it quantity of arms from Germany and other j)laccs ; engaged her nobility and gentry to imitate her example in this particular; intro- duced into the kingdom the art of making gunpowder and brass can- non ; fortified her frontiers on the side of Scotland; made frequent re- views of the militia; encouraged agriculture, by allowin"- a free exportation of corn; promoted trade and navigation, and so much increased the shii)2)ing of her kingdom, both by Ijuilding vessels of force herself, and suggesting like undertakings to the merchants, that she was justly styled the restorer of naval glory, and the queen of the northern seas."'^ The confidence which this conduct generated in her subjects was of the utmost importance to the country. It went far to- wards repressing the murmurs of even religious malecontents : the blessings of security, of plenty enjoyed in peace, are not unfelt even by the most bigoted, though they come from their opponents; and they operate like a strong but unsuspected sedative on the mind of many a popular polemic. It ought not, however, to be forgotten, that there were many events in the reign of Elizabeth which tended to imbue the active spirit of the times with higher feelings than those resulting from the mere contem- plation of utility. The defeat of the Spaniards, of their invincible ar- mada, produced effects on the nation internally of much greater con- sequence than those, great as they were, which resulted to it politically. A chivalrous desire to meet the enemy filled the mind of almost every man in the kingdom. To the request which the ministers made to the city of London, that it would contribute five thousand men and fifteen ships, it sent in answer, ten thousand men and thirty ships. This sen- timent, while it surmounted all others which the politics of the day call- ed forth, did really exalt the national character, by making the people conscious of the power they possessed, and leading them to understand how entirely the preservation of their freedom depended on their bra- very and sacrifices. Even the lowest of the soldiers partook of the en- thusiasm; and Stowe says that he saw them marching towards Til- bury "with cheerful countenances, courageous words and gestures, and dancing and leaping, wheresoever they came; while in the camp their most felicity was the hope of fighting with the enemy, where oftimcs, divers reports ran of their foes' approach, and that present battle would be given them, then were they as joyful at such news as if lusty giants were to run a race."^ These feelings, in minds of a higher or- der, could not fail to re-awaken those ennobling principles which some- times sparkled forth in the best days of chivalry, but had been gener- ally stifled in their birth by the burdensome pomp of the institution. Now they had free play, and and such men as Sir Walter Raleigh, Sir Francis Drake, and others of the same class, the true ancestors of English nobility, were greatly indebted, for their virtues and accom- ^ Hunie, vol. iv. c. 38. o Stowo, p. 711. I. 3 R plisliments, to tlie bright age of patriotism, — of mingled trial aud pros- perity, — of business and of sentiment, in wbicb tbey bad tbe fortunate lot to be born. Acting in a very different way on the public mind, but not unbene- ficially, was the mingled sentiment of indignation and horror witii wliich it beheld the conduct of France towards the unfortunate protes- tants of that country. Sympathy for those who suffer in defending principles for which we ourselves contend is of a quite different nature to the ordinary emotion of compassion which goes by the same name. Nor can a nation receive a more powerful impulse in its moral advancement and capacities. Corruptions of truth are never so palpa- ble to the unpractised eye as when conjoined with violations of justice and humanity. They compel reason and passion to labour under the same yoive ; and, situated as England was at the time of the Bartholomew massacre, there can be little doubt but that the feelings which it in- spired contributed in a high degree to animate multitudes with i deeper and more ardent gratitude for the light they enjoyed. Nor were the nu- merous precautions whicli it was found necessary to take against the attempts of the Catholic princes and their emissaries without their in- fluence in another point of view. The tone of society was thereby pre- vented from degenerating into tameness, — pleasui-e was enjoyed with a richer zest, — a full and warm colouring of natural sentiment diffused it- self over the common customs of life, — -and the picturesqueness of the age, delighting in masques and revelries, was easily made to furnisii types of true poetical force and beauty. We might greatly extend our observations on the circumstances which were combined in rendering the age of Elizabeth so glorious a period of English history. It might be added, that the intercourse which now took place with the most distant countries was in no slight measure favourable to improvement, and that the writers of the day had the advantage of that importation of Spanish literature and histori- cal traditions which iiad occurred in the preceding reign. But the brief view we have taken is sufficient to point out the main incentives to ex- ertion which the great men of tlie age received from without ; and, while the names of Shakspeare, Spenser, and the rest who formed the splendid galaxy of which they were the centre stars, afford us more than a remembrance of that memorable era, may we look with pleasure, and not without instruction, at even the probable causes which tended to the developement of tlieir genius. I. —POLITICAL SERIES. BORN A. D. 1457 DIED A. D. 1509. This prince was born in 1457. His father was Edmund, earl of lliclmioiul, son of Sir Owen Tudor, by Catherine of France. His Piiuioi).] HENRY VII. 4U9 mother was Margaret, daughter of John, duke of Somerset, wlio was grandson, l>y a spurious branch, of John of Gaunt, the son of Eit to death. He himself esca])ed to Flanders, but, leav- ing that country, came over to Ireland, and thereafter to Scotland, where he was entertained by James IV., and received in marriage a daughter of the earl of Huntly- An aggression, on the part of James, upon the English frontier, in which he was accompanied by Warbeck, was followed by an insurrection in Cornwall, occasioned I)y Henry's attempt to raise the tribute for the Scottish war. The English insur- rection was soon subdued, and the captives were set free ; a truce too was formed between Henry and the king of Scotland. But Perkin having been dismissed from that country, betook himself to the south of England, where he was followed by a multitude of the populace, and assumed the title of Richard IV. Military preparations Avere resorted to on the part of the king; Warbeck's followers submitted, and in gen- eral were leniently treated. To Catherine Gordon, the noble lady whom Warbeck had married, the king behaved witli liberality. Perkin himself was soon afterwards brought to execution, with the young earl of Warwick, the last of the Plantagenets. The execution of Warbeck may have been blameless, — respecting that of Warwick we quote the words of Hume : — " This violent act of tyranny, the great blemish of Henry's reign, by which he destroyed the last remaining male of the line of Plantagenet, begat great discontent among the people who saw an unhappy prince, that had long been denied all the privileges of his high birth, even cut oW from the common benefits of nature, now at last deprived of life itself, merely for attempting to shake off that op- pression under which he laboured." In November 1501, Prince Arthur was married to Catharine, daughter of Ferdinand of Arragon. A few months after this marriage, Arthiir died ; but Henry, the king's second son, afterwards Henr}'^ VIII. was forthwith espoused to the widow of his brother, a measure for which a papal dispensation was obtained. About the same time, Margaret, the king's elder daughter, was married to James, king of Scotland. Eliza- beth, Henry's queen, died in February 1503. But neither prosperous nor adverse circumstances seem to have rooted out the avarice of the king. At the beginning of his reign, he had taken as confidential coun- sellors, two clergymen, Morton and Fox, both of M'hom were raised to bishoprics. These individuals are said to have kept in check this ruling ])assion of the king. But we now find him using the aid of two infa- mous ministers, Empson and Dudley, in supplying his coffers by the oppression of his subjects, — men who appear to have wanted alike the generosity of freemen, and the ordinary sympathies of nature. Under the heavy exactions enforced by their illegal or legalized barbarity, fines and forfeitures supplied the treasury of Henry, who is said to have been in possession, before his death, of the enormous sum of £1,800,000. In the course of the year 1506, Henry committed to the Tower the earl of Suffolk, nephew of Edward IV. haA'ing jireviously induced Philip of Castile to yield him up into his hands. There is recorded a conversation between these two princes on the subject, to the following 504 POLITICAL SERIES. [Eourth effect. Oil Henry objecting to the favour which Suffolk — who had en- gaged in certain unfortunate intrigues — had met with in the dominions of the Castilian king, that prince replied that lie supposed the Englisii king had been above being apprehensive of so unimportant a personage as the earl, but promised to banish him from his kingdom. This, how- ever, did not satisfy the jealous mind of Henry, — jealous the more, per- l;aps, from the consciousness of the attempts which had been made, on his own behalf, against the usurpation of Richard HI. He desired of Philip that Suffolk might be delivered into his hands. Philip objected that compliance with this proposal would bring dishonour both on Henry and himself, and produce an impression that the one had treated tlie other as a prisoner. " I," said the king, " will take that dishonour on myself, and so your honour is saved." About the same time Henry formed a treaty with Philip favourable to the commerce of England with Castile, and soon thereafter, betrothed his daughter Mary to the arch- duke Charles, the son of the Castilian king. In justice to the English monarch it must be said, that, in the course of his reign, he showed a regard to the interests of maritime discovei'v and trade. Though contrary to a rule recommended by Montesquieu that kings should not be merchants, he seems to have himself engaged in commercial enterprise. His celebrated vessel, the Great Harry, is represented as costing fourteen thousand pounds. He invited Columbus to England, when that illustrious navigator had failed of obtaining sup- port from the courts of Spain and Portugal in his proposed adventure; and, although he lost the honour of that discoverer's success, he sent out Sebastian Cabot on a similar voyage. The commercial laws passed in this reign by parliament, however, were, according to the views of the time, restrictive of perfect freedom in foreign trade. Of the interference on the part of the king and parliament — not very impolitic, perhaps — with another department of the social customs of the commonwealth, the extent of the retinue in a nobleman's establishment, there is recorded the following rather lively anecdote. On occasion of a visit which Henry paid to his favourite the earl of Oxford, the retainers of that nobleman were drawn up in two lines, and presented a magnificent ap- pearance. The king exalted the earl's hospitality, suggesting, that the gentlemen and yeomen wlio appeared before him were, of course, menials of his noble host. Oxford replied that most of them were his retainers, who had come on this occasion to do him service. " By my faith," exclaimed his majesty, " I thank you for your good cheer, but I must not allow my laws to be broken in my sight ! My attorney must speak with you." The earl is said to have been fined accordingly. It seems unlikely that the court of Henry would be maintained on his part, with any extraordinary splendour. In tilts and tournaments, however — those stern amusements of tiie age — the king himself took part. Prompted, probably, rather by respect for the Romish church or deference to the papal i ee, than by religious or romantic ardour, he expressed an interest in a crusade to Palestine in which Pope Alexander VI. exhorted him to join. But his negotiation with the papal nuncio on the subject is marked by the cautious and calculating spirit of the king. A last, declining health brought him near the termination of his powerful but oppressive reign. His conscience was troubled by the re- PmiioD.] EDWARD PLANTAGENET. 505 collection of the rapacity which ho had countenanced, and his will di- rected restitution to bo made to such as had sufl'orod injury at his hands. Ho died at Uiclnuond, 21id April, 1,509, in the rrJd year of his a^o, and 24th of his reiiju. His successor, Henry VIH., committed to Pietro Torro. The melancholy fortunes and fate of this prince form one of the gloomiest pages in English history. After the execution of his father, | ! the duke of Clarence, Edward JV. had created him earl of Warwick. I j Even Richard, after the death of his own son, had treated him for j | a time as the hen--apparent, but afterwards, fearing that he might I i ultimately prove a dangerous competitor, had confined him in the castle ' ' of Sheriifhutton, in Yorkshire. The first act of Henry VH. was to | \ transfer the young prince, who had only reached his 15th year, from ; his prison in the north to the tower of London, a place of greater ; i security for so formidable a personage as the heir to the crown accord- ing to the principles of the house of York. The people commiserated the hard lot of the innocent youth, and readily listened to the assur- > ances of an impostor, Ralph Wulford, that the earl of Warwick had escaped from his dismal prison, and was about to re-appear in jmblic and vindicate his injured rights. The committal of Warbeck to the tower precipitated the fate of the last of the Plantagenets. Whether fruiu acci- dent or design, the two prisoners were permitted to see and converse with each other, and concert a plan for their escape. Four of the war- ders were induced, by liberal promises, to connive at the escape of both prisoners. According to the records of their trial, it was arranged that j Warbeck was to be again proclaimed by the title of Richard IV., and ; Warwick was to summon the retainers of his father to the standard of \ the new king. On the 21st of November, 1499, two days after the ex- [ ecution of the pretender, the earl of Warwick was brought to trial for ' vreason. Of his own accord he ]:)leaded guilty before a jury of peers, and received sentence of death from the earl of Oxford, as lord-high- j steward, which was carried into execution a few ilays afterwards, i Thus perished the last male of tiie Plantagenets, Avho had reigned over ' England for nearly four hundred years. "The public voice, as we have already hinted, loudly reprobated Pluury's injustice and inhumanity. For Warwick, confined, as he had evi;r been, without an^^ legal war- i i rant, was undoubtedly justified in attempting to recover his liberty; H and, had he been e^'on guilty of treason, his situation was such as ought ! to have saved him from punishment. Fifteen years of lonely imprison- | \ inent had effectually blighted his moral being. " He was," says one his- ' { turian, " a very innocent." ' Anotlier contemporary writer says of hiio, ' Uuliiished. I 506 POLITICAL SERIES. [Fourth "• Being kept for fifteen years, -witliout company of men, or sight ol beasts, he could not discern a goose from a capon."' But there was more than unjustifiable murder in the deed, foul as it was. '• The ex- tinction of such a harmless and joyless life," says Mackintosh, " in de- fiance of justice, and in the face of mankind, is a deed which should seem to be incapable of aggravation ; but the motives of this merciless murder, the base interests to which the victim was sacrificed, and the horrible coolness of the two veteran tyrants who devised the crime, are aggravations perhaps without parallel. Henry had been for some time engaged in a negotiation for the marriage of Arthur, his eldest son, with Catherine, infanta of Spain. In the course of the personal corres- pondence between the two monarchs, — these two kings understanding each other at half a word, — there were letters shown out of Spain, whereby, in the passages concerning the treaty of marriage, Ferdinand had written to Henry in plain terms, that he saw no assurance of the succession as long as the Earl of Warwick lived, and that he was loath to send his daughter to troubles and dangers." BORN A. D. 1462. — DIED A. D. 1510 This able, but infamous man, was the son of Sir John Dudley, anrl was born in 1462. He studied at Oxford, and afterwards removed to Gray's inn, where he aUained to such distinguished professional emi- nence and general reputation that he was introduced to the king's privy council in his 23d year. In 1492, he was employed in negotiating for peace with France, and he was one of those who, in 1499, signed the ratification of a treaty with that country, — a circumstance which sufti- ciently indicates how well he stood in Henry's good graces at this time. The means by which the cunning lawyer courted the royal fa- vour, were of a most disgraceful kind. It was by carefully noting and ministering to Henry's cupidity, that both Dudley and his companion in infamy, Empson, raised themselves to that pride of place from which they were doomed to be so suddenly precipitated at last. To gratify the royal passion a system of extortion was employed, " which," says Bacon, " the people, — into whom there is infused, for the preservation of monarchies, a natural desire to discharge their princes, though it be with the unjust charge of their counsellors, — did impute unto Cardinal Morton, and Sir Reginald ^Bray, who, as it after appeared, as counsel- lors of ancient authority with him, did so second his humours, as never- theless they did temper them, whereas, Empson and Dudley, that fol- lowed, being persons that had no reputation, with him, otherwise than by the servile following of his bent, did not give way only as the first did, but shaped his way to those extremities for which himself was touched with remorse at his death." " They were bold men," he adds, "and careless of fame, and that took toll for their master's grist. Dudley was of good family, eloquent, and one that could put hateful business into good language ; but Empson, that was the son of a sieve-maker, triumphed always in the deed done, putting off all other respects whatsoever. These two persons being lawyers in science, and 2 Hall. Period.] EDMUND DUDLEY. 507 privy counseIlor3 in authority, turned law and justice into voriii- wood and rapine. For, first, their manner was to cause divers subjects to be iiuiict(Ml for sundry crimes, and so far fortli to proceed in form ot law ; but, when the bills were found, then presently to conunit them ; and, nevertheless, not to produce them in any reasonable time to their answer, but to suffer them to languish long in prison, and, by sundry artificial devices and terrors, to extort from them great fines and ran- soms, which they termed compositions and mitigations. Neither did they, towards the end, observe so much as the half fact; of justice, in proceeding by indictment, but sent tbrtii their precepts to attack men, and convent them befbri^ themselves and some others, at their private houses, in a court of commission ; and there used to shuiHe up a sum- mary proceeding, by examination, without trial of jury, assuming to themselves there to deal both in pleas of the crown and controversies civil. Then did they also use to enthral and charge the subjects' lands with tenures in capile, by finding false offices, and tluireby to work upon them by wardships, liveries, premier seisins, and alienations, being the fruits of those tenures ; refusing upon divers pretexts and delays, to admit men to traverse those false offices according to law. Nay, the king's wards, alter they had accom])lislied their full age, could not be suffered to have livery of their lands, without paying excessive fines, far exceeding all reasonable rates. They did also vex men with infor- mations of intrusion upon scarce colourable titles. When men were outlawed in personal actions, they would not permit them to purchase their charters of pardon, except they paid great and intolerable sums, standing upon the strict point of law, which, upon outlawries, giveth for- feiture of goods : nay, contrary to all law and colour, they maintained the king ought to have the half of men's lands and rents, during tiie space of full two years, for a pain, in case of outlawry. They would also niflfle with jurors, and enforce them to find as they would direct ; and, if they did not, convent them, imprison them, and fine them." In the parliament held in 1504, Dudley was speaker of the house of commons. By Henry's will he was appointed along with sixteen othere — amongst whom was his sociiis criminis Empson — one of the exa- miners who were to make inquisition into such matters as they in their conscience should limit Henry's will might stand charged with, and to make restoration and recompense to all aggrieved parties ; these two personages were also named amongst Henry's executors, so that they must have contrived to retain their footing in Henry's esteem to the very last. But that monarch was scarcely in his grave, when both Dudley and Empson were sent to the tower, in order to appease the popular clamour against them. At first it was intended to bring them to trial only for "passing the bounds of their commission, and for stretching laws in themselves very severe ;" but when it became evident that nothing short of a capital conviction would satisfy the nation at large in the case of two sucli notorious oHenders, it was judged proper to indict them for a conspiracy, during the last illness of Henry, to seize on Lon- don with an armed force, and to assume the powers of government as soon as the king's decease was known. Of this conspiracy, Dudley was convicted at London, on the 16th of July 1509, and Empson, at Northampton, on the 1st of October. Stow informs us that the king was inclined to pardon them, and that a rumour prevailed, tliat Queen 508 POLITICAL SERlKb. [Fourth Catharine had effectually interceded for Dudley. It is certain that the delinquents were suffered to remain in jail till the month of August in the following year, when the king, yielding to the general demand foi their execution, ordered them to be beheaded upon Towerhill, wliich was accordingly done on the 18th of August, 1510. With regard to the specific charge for which they suffered, there appears no sufficient evidence of the crime alleged against these delinquents ; and, as Mackin- tosh observes, " the speedy revisal of the attainders, on the petitions of their sons, seems to show the general belief of the groundlessness of the charge of conspiracy. Still the manner in which, in defiance of all equity and justice, they had ministered to the avarice of the deceased monarch removed them from all sympathy ; and no one felt or pronoun- ced their doom to be hard and unmerited." During his imprisonment in the tower, and perhaps with a view to obtain a favourable consideration of his case from the new sovereign, Dudley wrote and addressed to the king a very extraordinary piece, entitled ' The Tree of the Commonwealth.' The contents of this treatise are, in the authoi-'s own words, " First, remembrance of God and the faithful of his holy church, in the which every Christian prince had need to begin. Secondly, of some conditions and demeanours necessary in every prince, both for his honour and assurety of his continuance. Thirdly, of the Tree of the Commonwealth, which teacheth people of every degree, of the condition and demeanours they should be of." This book never reached the king's hands, nor was it ever published, but several copies of it exist in manuscript ^ BORN A. D. 1491 DIED A. D. 154.7. On the death of Henry VII. in April 1509, the prince, in whom the hereditary claims of his father and mother were combined, succeeded, at the age of eighteen, to the English throne. The accession of the youth- ful, handsome, and accomplished Henry, gave great satisfaction in the nation,^ which had so long felt the oppression of a rapacious monarch, in whose title, at the same time, a party in the country seemed little in- clined to acquiesce. Bishop Fox, an active counsellor of the late king, [lad been recommended by him to his son and successor, and now be- came secretary and privy-seal. But the earl of Surrey proved more accommodating than the bishop to Henry's taste for magnificence and pleasure, and the court became eminent for gaiety and the martial amusements of the time. After the execution of Empson and Dud- ley, the rapacious ministers of the late king, Henry joined in a war against France with Pope Julius II., who sent him an anointed rose on the occasion. His father-in-law, Ferdinand of Spain, was engaged in the same cause, and gave him instructions as to the mode of making an attack on the neighbouring country. But the Spanish monarch appear- ing to the marquess of Dorset, who commanded Henry's troops, dis- ' Biug. Brit. ' Herbert, apud Kenuet, vol. iii. p. I. period.j henry vin. 609 posed tu use them in an interested manner, and the English sohlicrs liaving mutinied, tlie army returned to England. It proved ditficuit, however, to satisfy Henry, still periiaps a novice in the arts of polities, of the ])ropriety of Dorset's conduct ; and, after tlu; death of Pope Ju- lius, and the accession of the illustrious Leo X. in 1519, he engaj^cd in anotiier enterprise against France, notwithstanding the close alliance of Scotland with the country he intended to attack. Besides a naval enterprise, under the command of Sir Edward Howard, and afterwards of Lord Howard, an army was prej)ared, amounting to 14,000 men ; and having directed the carl of Suffolk to be beheaded, and leaving the kingdom under the protection of the queen, Henry, along with many of his nobles, sailed for France, eager, perhaps, in the martial spirit 27, he joined the king of France himself in sending ambassadors to Charles, requiring him, on payment of 2,000,000 crowns, to deliver up the chil- dren of Francis, who had been given as their father's ransom, and to pay his debt to the English king, — and, in September, entered into an agreement with France, in which was renounced the English claim to the government of France. Henry, who had taken so prominent a part in the political commo- tions of the continent, had given attention also to the theological con- vulsion whicli had taken place in Germany, and had even written a work against Luther, which that Reformer sharply answered, but which earned for its royal author from Leo X. the title of ' Defender of the Faith.'* These circumstances seem as if likely lo have proved the auguries of Henry's close and permanent connexion with the papal see. But the characteristic ardour which embarked the king in the defence of Romish doctrines, disposed him, under the intiuence of di- recting circumstances, to contend the more warmly against Romish 4 Rym, p. 75(i. L'Kuion.] IIENUY VIH. B 1 I |)owcr; and it lia])i)cns tliut tho soi)aration of Eii^dand from the sujtrc- niacy of the pojjo — that great ovciit in her national annals — i.s iilcntifiod with tho jtrivatc passions of tlic same orthodox defender of the faith. Queen Catharine having heen the wife of Artliiir, Henry's hrother, j)re- viously to lu>r marriage with tho king himself, an objection to the legi- timacy of this latter union had, on more than one occasion, been pro- posed. It appears that Henry's favourite author, Thomas Aquinas, had objected to marriage between such near relations as ho and Ca- tharine had been. A similar view, the king remarked, was entertained by his confessor. All the English prelates too, except Fisher, bishop of Rochester, agreed that the marriage was uidawful. And to crown all, Anne Boleyu, a maid of honour to Catharine herself, about this time attracted the fancy of the king. For his marriage with Catharine a papal dispensation had been formerly obtained. In this, however, it is alleged, there were flaws of such a kind that, by the rules of the papal court, it might be recalled. Henry applied to Pope Clement VII. for a divorce. The latter was now a prisoner in the hands of Charles v., but access to him was obtained, and his holiness expressed a willing- ness to agree to Henry's wish. When at length he had obtained his liberty, he still remained under the influence of Charles, and even showed less readiness in granting the English king's request. At last, however, Clement gave secret instructions for having the validity of the royal marriage inquired into. But Henry's counsellors advised their master not to act on this uncertain and underhand permission, and in February 1528, Stephen Gardiner and Edward Fox, were despatched to Rome to obtain security, if possible, for the pope's adherence to the de- cision of the commission to whom he had given authority to inquire into the matter. Clement renewed his commission to Wokey, with whom he now joined Cardinal Campeggio, an adherent of his own. The latter came to England in October, and although he at flrst attempted to get the scheme of a divorce suppressed, he sought to gratify the king, and even showed at court a papal bull for annulling the marriage with the queen, — a document, however, which Campeggio, in the course of events, was directed to destroy. On the 31st of May, 1529, the pajml com- mission proceeded to the trial of the cause, and the royal parties ap- peared before them. At the opening of the court, Catharine fell at Henry's feet, and made a pathetic expostulation with him on his con- duct in wishing to be divided from his tried and faithful queen. She then rose and retired. The king admitted her fidelity before the cardi- nals, and gave a statement of his reasons for seeking a divorce. The queen was again summoned to appear : but she had appealed to Rome, and did not answer to the citation of the court. It pronounced her contumacious, and proceeded to examine evidence on the matter of de- bate. The court was prorogued until the beginning of October, but at that time the cause was called to Rome in order to be tried — a measure for securing which the queen had received the emperor's sup- port. Now began Wolsey's overthrow. There is reason to sujipose that he was more cautious and less vigorous in gratifying the headstrong passions of the king, than suited the inclination of his master. That master, and his favourite Anne Boleyn, were ofiended by his conduct respecting an object in which both had such a tender interest; and it is not without reason that, in speaking of this subject, Mr. Hume re- ol2 POLITICAL SERIES. [Fourth marks — " constant experience evinces how rarely a high confidence and affection receives the least diminution, without sinking into abso- lute indifterence or even running into the opposite extreme." In Octo- ber, Wolsey was deprived of the great seal, — he was even banished from his house in London, Soon thereafter the king appeared in some measure to relent, and sent him a ring in token of regard. After his trial and condemnation, both in the Star chamber and in parliament, Henry granted him a pardon, and even after Wolsey's death, appears to have done honour to his memory. Nor surely is it to be wondered at that even in the selfish heart of Henry, some gleams still lingered of the light which he had, perhaps too liberally, cast around the footsteps of his favourite. Yet after all, it was when under arrest on a charge of high treason, founded apparently on Wolsey's opposition to the king's continued efforts at obtaining a divorce, that in November, 1530, this proud cardinal, — not to say with the chamberlain in Shakspeare, " this bold, bad man," — expired. In connexion with the history of his royal master, he stands a memorable witness not only of the instability of earthly greatness, but of the passionate energy of Henry's mind, feeling and assuming it as its own prerogative, alike immeasurably, to give or to withdraw its favour : Pone, ineum est, inquit — pono tristisque recedo. About the time when the cause of Henry and his queen was with- drawn to the papal court, the former agreed to certain provisions for the regulation of the clergy, passed by parliament, which also, profess- edly on account of the king's attention and liberality towards the nation, discharged him from the debts he had contracted since his accession to the throne. Besides that a large proportion of the nation seems to have been disposed to supjjort him in his aim at a divorce, it was with great satisfaction that he received the suggestion of Dr. Thomas Cranmer, that he should apply for the opinions of the universities of Europe, re- specting the validity of the marriage.^ The suggestion was adopted, and it is only fair, perhaps, to grant that his favourable inclination towards the plan appears to indicate that he was not without a real misgiving respecting the lawfulness of his union with the queen. The universities were in his favour, as also the convocations of Canterbury and York. A letter of the nobility to his holiness even ventured to warn him that he might find it dangerous to refuse agreement to the proposal of the king. The latter sent reasons, by Anne Boleyn's father, who had now been created Earl of Wiltshire, for declining to appear by proxy, according to the summons of the pope ; and it is re- marked, that the carl declined to kiss the foot of his holiness. By the convocation which met at the beginning of the year 1531, and in which the ecclesiastics who had submitted to the legantine court of Wolsey, condemned by this time as unlawful, agreed to purchase a pardon of Henry, the king was pronounced 'Head of the church of England.'" After being importuned by the commons, 'from his own goodness,' as he himself professed, he pardoned the laity for their submission to Wolsey's court. The following year an act was passed, for withholding from the court of Rome the first-fruits, which had been accustomed to i R\-mer, vol. xiv. p. 390. — Bm-net. 6 p.unu't. Period.] ITENRY VTII. 613 be paid ; power, liowevcr, being left with the king to suspend the law, if he shouM please. This wan a bold .stroke at the long-established authority of the pope; and such was Henry's dispo.yition towards tlio papal power, that it now lost him the services, as lord chancellor, of that accomplished scholar, but bigottcd lionianist, Sir Thomas More. The king continued to decline ap])caring, by proxy, before his holiness, alleging the insuiliciency of a j)roxy to represent him in this matter of conscience, and the danger of permitting appeals to be carried from his own kingdom— the doing of which, in cases of matrimony and other ecclesiastical causes, w^as prohibited, the following year, by act of parliament. After the private celebration of a marriage with Anno Boleyn, who had now been created marchioness of Pembroke, the king publicly acknowledged the union, in April, 1533. Soon thereafte'r Anne was crowned, and, 7th September, was delivered of a daughter. The marriage had been previously confirmed by Cranmcr, now arch- bishop of Canterbury, wdio had also, after an examination of the previous one with Catharine, declared the latter to be invalid, and who now, at the desire of the king, stood godfather to the royal infant. Henry, before his marriage with Anne, had held an interview with the king of France, on the cause at issue. That prince made an at- tempt to mediate between his holiness and the English king, and Henry agreed to submit his cause to the court at Rome, if the cardinal, at- tached to the emperor, Catharine's brother, should be excluded. But his written promise on the subject being detained beyond the time pre- scribed, and a report having gone to Italy that ridicule had been cast on the pope and cardinals in a ludicrous exhibition represented before the English king, the consistory, 23d March, 1534, declared Catharine to be Henry's lawful wife, and the king excommunicated, should he refuse obedience to the decision of the court. This was a decisive step on the part of Rome, and similarly decisive was the conduct of the king and his obedient parliament. This year he received the title of 'only supreme head on earth of the church of England; 'Uhe autho- rity of the pope, who had issued bulls, however, for Cranmer's appoint- ment to the archbishopric of Canterbury, was annulled, and the succession was removed from Mary, Henry's daughter by Catharine, and settled on the issue of the new queen. Severity was resorted to, in enforcement of the innovation respecting the supremacy : for their resistance to which. Bishop Fisher and Sir Thomas More were brought to trial, condemned and executed, in 1535. At the beginning of the following year, Catharine — to whom the king had given the title of princess-dowager of Wales, and from whom he had ordered the honours appropriate to royalty to be withheld — died at Kimbolton, after a lin- gering illness. Shortly before her death she had written a letter to the king, expressing forgiveness and affection, and commending their daughter Mary to his kindness, — a document by which the king is said to have been moved to tears, though Anne, who was shortly after de- livered of a still-born son, is represented as expressing pleasure on occasion of her rival's death. But the year which opened on the death-bed of Catharine was to close over the grave of Anne, whose melancholy fate will be related at T 200 Hemy VIII. c. i. 3 T 514 POLITICAL SERIES. LFourtii len'Tth, in our memoir of that unfortunate woman. Henry had fixed his affections on another lady,^ Jane Seymour, a maid of honour to the queen. Anne was beheaded on the 19th of May, — another victim to tlie impetuous passions of the man whom, almost immediately before her death, she called ' a most nuu-ciful and gentle prince.' With dis- gusting want of decency, he, next day, consummated a marriage with Jane Seymour, which he represented to parliament as entered into for their benefit. They confirmed the divorce from Anne, and set aside the claim of the issue of the marriage with that unfortunate queen, as well as of the previous one with Catharine, to the succession, which was settled on Henry's children by Jane Seymour. They also increased his personal pi'erogative, continuing that course of accordance with Henry's capricious will which marked the proceedings of his jiarlia- ments. The king had by this time suppressed the monasteries whose annual revenues were under £200, the property of which was transferred to the king. But, according to the image of Bishop Fisher, in speaking of the subject, " the axe had got a handle, and proceeded to cut down the cedars." Notwithstanding a revolt both in Lincolnshire and in the north of England, one of the grounds of which was Henry's conduct in reference to the monastic houses, he now betook himself, with the rude energy by which his character is marked, to the suppression of the greater ones, in which, as well as in the others, great immorality appears to have been practised. The annual revenue accruing to the croAvn, from the multitude of monasteries and other ecclesiastical houses suppressed by Henry, amounted to upwards of £100,000.'* The pro- ceeding was a very bold, and perhaps an unadvised, one ; but a pro- portion of the revenue was granted by the king towards erecting bishoprics, and forming pensions for abbots and priors, deprived, by the suppression, of their former income. His favourites also shared in the spoil ; he sold or exchanged on terms disadvantageous to the crown ; and he is said to have paid a cook, who pleased him by a pudding, with the revenue of a convent. But Henry had not renounced the theological doctrines of the Romish church along with the supremacy of its acknowledged head. Persons maintaining articles of the reformed faith were even subjected to severe persecutions, and when the king, in 1535, requested a visit from Me- lancthon and others of the foreign reformers, it was intimated to him, that his severity to Protestants destroyed his claim to be considered a sound Protestant prince. That year, however, Coverdale's translation of the Bible was published, with a dedication to the king, and, in 153(5 it was ordered to be used in churches. About the same time, the con- vocation framed a body of theological articles, in some degree inclining to the protestant belief, though not without a considerable proportion of the Romish creed. In 1538, Henry aimed at a union with the German Protestants, and in the following year was published a new translation of the Bible, undertaken, some years before, by the convo- cation of the church, notwithstanding the publication of Tindal's im- proved version, which was rejected by the ecclesiastics as not sutticiently correct. On the title-page of the new translation, the king, according " Herbert, ii. ' There were suppressed in this reign 615 monasteries, having 28 abbots in parliament, <)(.> colleges, 2,374 chapels an«J chantries, 110 hosuitals. Period.] HENRY VUI, 515 to a design attributed to Hans Holbein as represented as delivering the Bible into the hands of Archbishop ('raniner and of Thomas (y'roni- well, for distribution — as the desi^'n has been explained — among the clergy and the laity.'" The reformer, Tindal, however, had sufl'ered at the stake, in 153(3, betrayed, it is alleged, to the procurator of the emperor of Germany, by a man employed by Henry and his council, and had died, with these words upon his lips — " Lord, open the king of England's eyes!" But Henry continued, in his doctrinal cree- licly cut off, was consummated in the case of the countess of Salisbury, mother of Cardinal Pole — a man who, by birth related to the king, had once been a sharer in his patronage and favour, but wiio, supporting the papal court in the cause of the king's divorce from Catharine, aiid expressing himself in terms unfavourable to Henry, had incurred his warm displeasure, and encouraging, it seems, a party against Henry in England, to which the countess, naturally enough, belonged, may be said, perhaps, to have been punished in the person of his mother, who suffered on the scaffold, 27th May, 1540. A similar fate was in reserve for the favourite queen herself. That Catharine Howard was guilty of wounded honour'before her marriage with the king, seems satistactorily proved ; and, perhaps, her wedded life was not utterly unstained. On hearing allegations against her purity, Henry appeared to be greatlj' moved. Barbarous as he was in some respects, this was a matter tlial touched him keenly ; to virgin purity he paid particular regard. The guilty and unfortunate Catharine was tried, condemned, and, along with Lady Rocheford, put to death in 1542. This year Henry obtained the title of ' King of Ireland.' He also published a declaration of reasons for making war with Scotland — com- plaining that his nephew, James V., had failed of meeting him in a conference the year before, according to his promise, kept back a por- tion of English territory, and afforded protection to unfaithful English subjects. He even claimed submission as liege lord of the Scottish king. In spite of the remonstrances of James, war was carried to tlie Scottish frontier under the duke of Norfolk ; but James died in Deceuj- rEnioo.] HENRY Vin. 51 ^ ber, soon after the battle of Solway, in wiiicli several of Iiis nobility were taken prisoners. On the death of the king- of Scctland, Henry proposed a marriage between Edward, liis son by Jane Seymour, and his late nephew's infant dan<;hter, Mary. But Cardinal Beaton, regent of Scotland, was opposed to the match, and a war ensued, in which Henry's troops supported the party of the earl of Lennox against tlie cardinal. In June, 154G, peace was concluded with Scotland, and also with the king of France. Henry had now become the sul)ject of disease, and Bishop Gardiner, so notorious from the part which he took in the persecution of the following reign, was his minister. Even now, persecution — from which, indeed, the previous part of Henry's reign had been by no means free — darkened this closing period of his life. Catharine Parr, whom Henry had married on the 12th Jul}', 1543, was in danger of falling before the temper of her lord. She was attached to the Protestant religion, and, in a conversation with the king, ventured to differ with him in an article of faith. But heresy and contradiction were too much for him to bear. He informed Bishop Gardiner of the queen's offence, and even authorised articles of impeachment to be prepared against her — as if it were a matter of course, that to be the wife of Henry was, in the end, to be the victim of his cruelty. But Catharine, hearing of her danger, effectually soothed and pacified him, commending his theological cai)acity, and speaking humbly of herself. The bloody actions of Henry's reign were not yet terminated however, nor was it until the duke of Norfolk had been condemned, and his celebrated and accomplished son, the earl of Surrey, by a sentence which none, perhaps, will justify, had lost his life, that Henry yielded up his own. His health had long been giving way, and his malady seems to have roused to savage passion a temper ili-prepared, perhaps, by courtly flattery and parliamentary sub- mission, lor a personal encounter with an enemy which the power of the tyrant was unable to subdue. On hearing that death might be looked for, he directed Cranmer to be sent for ; and the latter having asked him to give a sign of his dying in the faith, Henry pressed the hand of the prelate, and expired. This event occurred on the 28th of January, 1547, in the 56th year of the king's age, and 38th of his reign This prince — whose character history brings the more prominently out, from the vigorous part he took, and the powerful influence he exerted, in the transactions of his reign — appears not only to have encouraged art and genius, but to have been himself possessed of con- siderable accomplishment and learning. But along with his attainments, there is indicated a dogmatic confidence in his own conclusions — at least in matters of theology — founded, probably, both on his notions of prerogative as a king, and head of the English church, and on a vain opinion of his own capacity. He was possessed, no doubt, of great activity and energy of mind ; but these were frightful weapons in tht hands of a despot, and might have proved so even in the hands of a wiser and better man possessed of the prerogative wielded by the Eng- lish king. But Henry did not act merely under the influence of short and violent excitement. Wolsey, who had opportunity to know him well, thus described him shortly before his own death : — " He is a prince of a most royal carriage, and hath a princely heart ; and rather than he will miss or want any pan of his will, he will endanger the one 518 POLITICAL SERIES. [Fouimi half of his kingdom. I do assure you, that I have often kneeled before him, sometimes three hours together, to persuade him from his will and appetite, but could not prevail." To his country he stands in the rela- tion of the prince under whom the English church was severed from the supremacy of Kome, and the Holy Scriptures opened up for the use of the English people. But the probable sincerity of his adherence to the Romi;?h dogmas, and the false opinions of the age respecting the treatment of errors in theological belief, are unable to remove from his memory the stain of religious persecution — and, although the part which he took in setting aside the papal claim to the supremacy in England, may have found support in conclusions to which reason, guided by the circumstances in which his wish for a divorce from Catharine had placed him, yet, considering the headstrong passions of the king, and the relation into which he was brought with the pope, by his suit for a divorce, there is reason to regard his conduct in the matter a proof neither of sound and deliberate thought on the real subject of the supremacy, nor of a generous wish to establish truth, though new, on the ruins of anti- quated error. During Henry's life, the English government ill kept pace with the growth of religious reformation under the great men who led the march of protestantism on the continent of Europe — and much as, in point of fact, Henry may have done to bring on in England the ascendancy of truth, yet he does not, as its wise and generous advocate, stand forth, " His own brows garlanded, Amid the tremor of a realm aglow, Amid a mighty nation jubilant." In many respects, the reign of this monarch is deserving of careful study, and the great men who flourished in it have not only a strong but a peculiar claim on our attention. They performed a work of much difficulty, and established principles which indicate the rapid ad- vancement of knowledge and good sense. Nor is it only from the position in which they stood as to the affairs of their own times, that the actors on the stage of public events at this period merit so much observation. They were the forerunners of a yet hardier generation, — of men who had a far more difficult task to perform, who stood sur- rounded by circumstances which it requiied higher intellects to govern and more light to convert into good, but who were yet indebted in many important respects to their predecessors. It is with an eye to subsequent eras that every division of biographical history should be made : there is however a stronger, a more evident relationship between following ages at one period than at another. The most ingenious minds will find it difficult to trace the progress of improvement by that of time through the general course of events: it is only here and there that the cause and the eflect may be seen hanging together in the misty regions of the past; but wherever even the faintest signs of the connexion arc discoverable, there both history and biography assume a dignity which raises them far above their ordinary respecta- bility and usefulness. Period.] CARDINAL WOLSEY. 519 Cnitiinal raolsnn noUN A. D. 1471 DIED A. D. 131.0. Thomas Wolsey was born at Ipswicli, in Suffolk, in the month of August, some say March, 1471. A controversy lias arisen among his hiographcrs as to the rank in life and occu])ation of this celebrated man's father. We are neither able nor solicitous to determine the point. Cavendish describes him as " an honest poor man's son," and the designation is sufficient to show that Wolsey added to his other merits the no small one of having raised himself to the most exalted eminence which a subject could occupy from an humble and obscure station. His father appears to have possessed a little property, which enabled him to enter his son at Magdalene college, Oxford, where he obtained the degree of bachelor-in-arts at the early age of fifteen. To quickness of apprehension, the young Wolsey added considerable per- sonal qualifications. Shakspeare says of him, that " he was fashioned to much honour from the cradle;" and to this union of intellectual and bodily qualities he may have been indebted for much of the favour and patronage which were shown to him iu early life. He was early elect- ed fellow of Magdalene, and, having been subsequently admitted to orders, was appointed master of the preparatory school of his college. The assiduity and success with which, in this character, he conducted the preliminary education of the three sons of Grey, marquess of Dorset, procured for him the patronage of that nobleman, who pre- sented him with the living of Lymington in Hampshire. Wolsey was in his 29th year when he obtained this his first church- preferment. Before he left the university he had given solid proof not only of his literary tastes and acquirement, but of his munificence and genius for architecture. The erection of the fine tower of Magdalene college chapel had demonstrated the justness of his taste, but had, at the same time, involved him in pecuniary embarrassments to a consi- derable extent. Yet no sooner was the young incumbent settled iu his rectory than he began to repair and beautify both his church and par- sonage house, in a style which would have better suited the mansion of a nobleman than the residence of a country clergyman. So early did the love of architecture display and manifest itself as a master-passion in Wolsey's mind. The marquess of Dorset died in 1501, but Wolsey quickly found another patron in Deane, archbishop of Canterbury, into whose household he was received as domestic chaplain. The arch- bishop died in 1502, and Wolsey next acquired the favour of Sir John Nanfan, treasurer to the city of Calais, who, upon retiring from oflice on the score of old age, recommended Wolsey so warmly to the notice of Henry VII., that the king made him one of his chaplains. Wolsey had now entered on the high road to preferment, and, with that quick discernment and tact for which he was afterwards so con- spicuous, he immediately attached himself to the bishop of Winches- ter and Sir Thomas Level, two of the most influential members of Henry's privy council. By studying the temper of these two courtiers, and accommodating himself to their wishes, he raised himself so high in their good opinion, that they did not hesitate to recommend him to 520 POLITICAL SERIES. [Eoukth the king, then contemplating a marriage with the duchess of Savoy, as a fit person for conducting the necessary negotiations with Maximil- ian, emperor of Germany, the father of the duchess. " The king," says Cavendish, "giving ear unto them, and being a prince of excel- lent judgment and modesty, commanded them to bring his chaplain, whom they so much commended, before his Grace's presence. At whose repairs thither, to prove the wit of his chaplain, the king fell in communication with him in matters of weight and gravity ; and per- ceiving his wit to be very fine, thought him suflncient to be put in trust and authority with this embassy, and commanded him to prepare him- self for this enterprise and journey, and for his depeche to repair to his Grace, and his trusty counsellors aforesaid, of whom he should re- ceive his commission and instructions ; by means whereof he had then a due occasion to repair from time to time to the king's presence, who perceived him more and more to be a very wise man, and of a good entendement." The expedition and address with which Wolsey ac- quitted himself in this negotiation, justified the high encomiums vj-hich had been pronounced upon him by his friends. Fox and Lovel, and effectually established him in Henry's favour, who rewarded him with the deanery of Lincoln, at that time the most valuable benefice in England under a bishoprick, to which were added the prebends of Stowe, Walton, and Brinkald. Soon after the commencement of Henry the Eighth's reign, we find "Wolsey executing the office of king's almoner, an ofiice which gave him every opportunity of ingratiating himself with the monarch. Nor was he long in turning the advantages of his situation to his own profit. In a very few months he had acquired the complete confidence of his royal master, and had rendered himself so subservient to his pleasures, that Henry rewarded him with the splendid mansion and gardens of Sir Richard Empson, which, on the attainder of that minis- ter, had fallen to the crown. This palace was for some years the scene of Wolsey's magnificence and Henry's sports. Here the young mon- arch, with his gay companions, sought relief from the cares of state in the most unbounded revelry and licentiousness; and here Wolsey, aban- doning all decorum, sang, danced, and caroused with the youthful de- bauchees. " He came unto the king," says Tyndale, " and waited upon him, and was no man so obsequious and serviceable, and in all games and sports the first and next at hand, and as a captain to en- courage others, and a gay finder-out of new pastimes, to obtain favour with all. He spied out the nature and disposition of the king's play- fellows, and of all that were great, and whom he spied meet for his purpose, him he flattered and made faithful with great purposes." Nor was he less sedulous to win the esteem and friendship of such ladies as stood well in the youthful monarch's good graces. " Whosoever of them was great," says Strype, "to her he was familiar, and gave her gifts." By such arts, Wolsey at once established himself in Henry's favour, as a prime accessary to his pleasures, whilst he not only gaA'e no offence to those who might otherwise have become his rivals, bi.'t actually won them over to his own interests. At the same time he endeavoured to convince Henry that he was equal to greater things than promoting courtly revelry and giving a zest to a monarch's hours of relaxation. By frequent disquisitions on the works of the school- Priuon.] CARDINAL WOLREY. 521 men, and particularly of Aquinas, Henry's especial favourite, and on the theory and art of <;overnnifiit, he succeeded in impressing his young pupil with a high sense of Ids skill botli as a politician and a liivine. In this way he gradually acquired a wonilerful dominion over the youthful king's nund, and hceanu; at last tiie most intluential per- t^onage in the whole circle of Henry's acconqjlished courtiers. He now wanted nothing " either to ))lease his fantasy, or to lavish his coffers, fortune so smiled upon him," — he was the sole avenue to Henry's fa- vour, and suitors of every rank found it for their interest to propitiate VVolsey in the first instance, and make their first approaches through him. The two rival ministers, Surrey and Fox, quailed before his ascendancy ; and Margaret of Scotland and Queen Catharine herself found it for their advantage to keep on good terms with the all-power- fid almoner. Soon after tlie king's return from the campaign in France, ihe bish- opric of Lincoln happened to become vacant, and was given to Wolsey, who, on taking possession, found his wealth much augmented by the moveables of his predecessor ; he had been scarcely invested with this new honour, when York also became vacant, and he was advanced to the archiepiscopal dignity. Little more than a year elapsed before VVolsey was advanced to the rank of cardinal by Leo X. Archbishop Warhaia now relinquished the seals, which were instantly given to the cardinal with the dignity of chancellor of the realm. " Henceforth," says Gait, " Wolsey may be regarded as the dictator of England ; for, although the king appeared, afterwards, personally in every important transaction, the cardinal had acquired such an ascendancy that the emanations of the royal will were in fact only the reflected pur{)oses of the minister." A bull investing him with legantine authority, placed his ecclesiastical pre-eminence in the realm above controversy, and invested him with the prerogatives of the pontiif himself. ' Francis L being now desirous of entering into an alliance Avith England, had recourse to bribery to win the interest of the cardinal. Charles V. of Germany, Pope Leo, and the duke of Milan, successively resorted to the same means with a view to the same end. In addition to the annuities settled upon him by these potentates, Wolsey farmed the revenues of the sees of Hereford and Worcester from the foreign dignitaries upon whom they had been bestowed, and held in commendam the abbey of St Alban's with the bishopric of Bath. What the arts were by which the crafty favourite continued to apologise to his royal master for his avari- ciousness, and above all to lull his suspicions of foreign influence, does not clearly appear ; one thing is certain, that not only did the unscrupu- lous monarch connive at his minister's conduct, but he even sanctioned it, and seemed to be much amused at the adroitness with which Wolsey managed his own interest in every negotiation. On being informed that Francis I. had settled an annuity of 12,000 livres on the cardinal, he only observed to Wolsey himself, " I plainly discern that you will govern both Francis and me." So astonishing did this entire ascend- ancy over the capricious monarch appear even at the time, that the vulgar of the day universally ascribed it to demoniacal influence. Hut ample as Wolsey 's revenues were, they did not more than suffice ' Rymer, xiii. 7o4. I. 3 U for the enormous expenses of his establishment. His establishment was on a princely scale, and comprehended no fewer than eight hundred individuals. His personal attendants were forty-six in number, and his chaplains and other attendants upon the ceremony of mass, not fewer than 143. Many of the officers of his household were persons oi considerable birth and liberal education, and afterwards rose to high offices in the state. In his own person he exhibited the utmost rich- ness and magnificence of attire : his very shoes, according to Hoy, being " Of gold and stones precious, Costing mauy a tliousand pounds.'' When he went abroad he appeared with more than royal splendour and parade. " There was borne before him," says Cavendish, " first the great seal of England ; and then his cardinal's hat, by a nobleman or some worthy gentleman, right solemnly, bareheaded. And as soon as he was entered into his chamber of presence, where there was attending his coming to await upon him to Westminster hall, as well noblemen and other worth}' gentlemen, as noblemen and gentlemen of his own family; thus j^assing forth with two great crosses of silver borne before him ; with also two great pillars of silver, and his pursuivant-at-arms with a great mace of silver gilt. Then his gentlemen and ushers cried and said, ' On, my lords and masters, on before ! Make way for my lord's Grace I' Thus passed he down from his chamber through the hall ; and when he came to the hall door, there was attendant for him his mule trapped altogether in crimson velvet and gilt stirrups. When he was mounted, with his cross bearers, and pillar bearers, also upon great horses trapped with fine scarlet, then marched he forward, with his train and furniture in manner as I have declared, having about him four footmen, with gilt poleaxes in their hands ; and thus he went until he came to Westminster hall door. And there alighted, and went after this manner, up through the hall into the chancery ; how- l)eit he would most commonly stay a while at a bar, made for him, a little beneath the chancery (on the right hand) and there commune sometime with the judges, and sometime with other persons. And that done he would repair into the chancery, sitting there till eleven of the clock, hearing suitors, and determining of divers matters. And from thence he would divers times go into the star-chamber, as occasion did serve; where he spared neither high nor low, but judged every estate according to their merits and deserts." Indeed, in the discharge of his judicial i unctions, Wolsey appears to have been highly exemplary. He did not possess much teclmical knowledge or acquaintance with the minutiae of law, but with a clear head and vigorous understanding sel- dom failed to expiscate the merits of a case and arrive at a sound de- cision, and the equity of his judgments seems to have been universally acknowledged. His jurisdiction over the priesthood was less generally approved of He instituted a kind of inquisitorial court Avhose business it was to look after the delicts of the clergy and impose suitable fines upon offenders, and its awards were always strictly executed, which greatly exasperated the clergy against the founder. Wolsey now became an aspirant after the pontificate, and to this splendid expectation he sacrificed his integrity as Henry's mmister. (ialt denies this : and asks what serious efloct could be expected from PKnioD.j CARDINAL WOLSEY. 523 any proniiso which Charles might hold out to this effect duiiiig his visit to Eiigliuul, seeing that Leo X. who then iilled the chair of Si Pet(>r, was in tlie jji-inie of life, anjeet whatever could appear too distant or unattainable to Wols(>y's insatiable and>ition, and that the atiair of the interview at Guisnes is decisiv(> of the character of Wolsey in this respect. Leo died in the vigour of his age, but the cniijcror failed to redeem his pledge, yet his consummate dissimulation prevailed on Wolsey once more to attach himself to his interests in the hope of ere long gaining the object of his aspirations, on the death of the new pope, Ailrian VL, whose great age and infirmities rendered that event ex- trenu>Iy probable at no distant date. Adrian died in about a year and a half after his election, and Wolsey again felt the triple crown encir- cling his brows, but was doomed again to experience the hoUowness of Charles's protestations : with the support of the imperial party the cardinal De Medici was elected pope under the title of Clement VlL; and England soon after entered into a close alliance with France ; though not before Wolsey had pocketed a bribe of one hundred thou- sand crowns from Francis, under the name of arrears due on the Tour- nay pension. The home-administration of Wolsey disjilavs greater firmness and integrity ; yet his financial measures were not only un- popular, but, in some instances, highly unconstitutional. On his re- pulse in the house of commons and at the hands of Sir John More, then speaker, Wolsey did not summon a parliament for seven years after, although the very next year was distinguished by the audacious attempt to levy a subsidy of one-sixth of every man's substance. The simple edict of the executive was considered by Wolsey authority suf- ficient for the execution ; but " the courage and love of freedom natural to the English commons, speaking in the hoarse voice of tumult,"^ defeated the daring attempt. His attack on the wealth and midowments of the church wiis more popular and therefore more suc- cessful. Li two years he dissolved forty-one of the lesser monasteries, and would have proceeded to greater lengths, had he not been held in check by Henry, who was not yet prepared for siieh sweeping mea- sures as he himself afterwards adopted against monastic institutions. With the means thus supplied him, Wolsey became a munificent and enlightened patron and supporter of literature and popular education. He established a school and made arrangements for a college at Ipswich; he founded the magnificent college of Christ's church at Oxford ; and extended his patronage generally to the universities and places of pub- lic instruction throughout England. He also bestowed the most minute and sedulous attention on the education of the duke of Richmond, Henry's natural son, and the princess Mary. These were services which throw a lustre around this extraordinary man's character ; but they were hardly appreciated at the time, and whatever they might have done for Wolsey 's popularity, the harshness anil sternness with which he enforced his home-administration, throughout every depart- ment of it, rendered him exceedingly unpopular. The prohibition of games of chance, and his severe sumi)tuary laws, were highly disrelish- • ilallain. 524 POLITICAL SERIES. [Fourth ed ; and the cardinal's own magnificence and licentiousness stood in most unfavourable contrast M'ith such attempts to reform and correct abuses in the private economy of families. " He who grudges every man his })!easure," said the people, " spares not his own." Wolsey displayed less than his usual prudence in the share which he took in the Lutheran controversy. By causing Pope Leo's bull against Luther to be ])osted on every clmrch door in England, along with the forty- two ' damnable and pestiferous' errors of that great reformer, he in etlect did more to promote the cause of the Reformation than many of its best friends could accomplish at the time. Luther knew his man, and hesitated not to designate him in his ' Apologetical letter' to Henry, as " illud monstrum et publicum odium Dei et hominum, car- dinalis Eboracensis, pestis ilia regni tui." Yet, it must be allowed on behalf of Wolsey, that he did not use his power in a very sanguinary manner against the reformers, and that, in fact, his remissness in searcli- ing out and punishing heretics formed one ground of impeachment against him. We have already hinted at the connexion betwixt the affair of Henry's divorce from Queen Catharine and Wolsey 's downfall. We are not prepared to state with certainty what were the precise sentiments which the cardinal entertained I'especting that measure ; but from Wolsey 's behaviour on the occasion of its first communication to him, it would appear that he foreboded from the first that such a step on the part of the king would prove fatal to himself at least. " The cardinal," says Gait, " fell on his knees, and entreated the king to abandon a de- sign so hostile to the faith of which he was the declared champion and defender." Yet both the queen and her nephew, the emperor Charles, charged Wolsey with having originated the divorce indirectly through the bishop of Tarbes. " Of this trouble," old Hall makes the queen to say, " I may only tliank you my lord cardinal of York ; for, because I have Avondered at your high pride and vain glory, and abhor your voluptuous life, and little regard your presumptuous power and tyranny, therefore of malice you have kindled this fire and set this matter abroad, and in especial for the great malice that you bear to my nephew the emperor, because he would not satisfy your ambition and make you pope by force." The appointment of VVolsey and Campeggio, by a papal bull, as a legatine court to try the question of the divorce, sealed the minister's fate. After long vacillation, the two legates avoided coming to a decision by adjourning the legatine court. The impatient sjjirit of Henry was now provoked to the uttermost, while both Catharine and Anne declared that they regarded the cardinal as their personal enemy, and expected not to receive justice at his liands. The first de- cided intimation which Wolsey received of the altered terms upo/i which he now stood with the king, was the marked coldness of his re- ception at Grafton, where the court rested, on his going tliither with Campeggio who had now determined to return to Rome. On his retu i to London, he opened the court of chancery with his accustomed parade ; but the next morning he Avas waited on by the dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk, who demanded the great seals from him. With this demand he refused to comply without a formal letter to that effect from the king himself; but two days afterwards, the dukes returned, and presenting a Period.] CARDINAL WOLSEY. 525 written orfior from Henry, bore away the seals. Wolsey luiw rpfired to Kslier; hut not before he liad maiU'. some miserable exhibitions of abject submission towards the tyrant " Whose smile was transport, and whose frown was rate." An information was no>v filed against him by the attorney-general for havijig, eontrary to the statute of provisors, exercised legatine authority in England ; he was at once pronounced guilty on this charge, and de- clared to have incurred the penalties of a premunire : his immense pro- perty was seized ; and he Mas hurled from the highest ])innaele of wealth and grandeur to instantaneous arid utter destitution. Wolsev held a dispensation under the king's sign manual for the very facts on wliicli he was sued, but having been seized with his other "effects, it »vas now withheld from him, and he was thus prevented from pleadin" an instrument which must have protected him wherever law or reason could make their voice heard. A transient gleam of sunshine once more lighted up his fallen fortunes. Henry in a fit of pity for his ex- minister, granted him a free pardon and reinstated him in the sees of York and Winchester. Wolsey 's characteristic love of splendour was again enkindled, and he was preparing to be enthroned at York when his final arrest for high treason, by the command of his capricious sove- reign, took place at Cawood. This last shock was too much for a heart already broken with indignities and dangers : his moral fortitude forsook him ; and before the train which had been sent to escort him to the Tower reached Leicester, the hand of death pressed heavily upon him. By great care he was brought to the abbey of Leicester, where he received the two last charities of a death-bed and grave, with many circumstances thus aflQCtingly narrated by Cavendish : " Upon Mon- day in the morning, as I stood by his bed-side, about eight of the clock, the windows being close shut, having wax lights burning upon the cup- board, I beheld him, as me seemed, drawing fast to his end. He per- ceiving my shadow upon the wall by his bed-side, asked who was there ? ' Sir, I am here,' quoth I. — ' How do you ?' quoth he to me. — ' Very well, sir,' quoth I, ' if I might see your grace well.' — ' What is it of the clock?' said he to me. — 'Forsooth, sir,' said I, 'it is past eight of the clock in the morning.' — ' Eight of the clock ?' quoth he, ' that cannot be ;' rehearsing divers times, ' eight of the clock, eight of the clock; nay, nay;' quoth he at the last, 'it cannot be eight of the clock : for by eight of the clock ye shall lose your master : for my tlma draweth near that I must depart out of this world.' With that master Doctor Palmes, a worshipful gentleman, being his chaplain and ghostly father, standing by, bade me secretly demand of him if he would be shriven, and to be in a readiness towards God, whatsoever should chance. At whose desire I asked him that quest-ion. ' What have you to do to ask me any such question ?' quoth he, and began to be very angry with me for my presumption ; until at the last master doctor took my part, and talked with him in Latin, and so pacified him." Kingston entered, and bade him good morning. " I tarry, master Kingston, but the will and pleasure of God, to render unto him my siinj)lc soul into his divine hand." After a pause, and after havhig ex- plained the fatal nature of his disease, dysentery, he addressed himself again to Kingston as follows : — 526 POLITICAL SERIES. [Fourth " * Master Kingston, my disease is sucli tliat I cannot live ; I have had some experience in my disease, and thus it is : I have a flux with a continual fever ; the nature whereof is this, that if there be no altera- tion with me of the same within eight days, then must either ensue excoriation of the entrails, or frenzy, or else present death ; and the best thereof is death. And as I suppose, this is the eighth day: and ii ye see in me no alteration, then is there no remedy (although I may live a day or twaine) but death, which is the best remedy of the three.' — ' Nay, sir, in good faith,' quoth Master Kingston, ' you be in such dolor and pensiveness, doubting that thing that indeed ye need not to fear, which maketh you much worse than ye should be.' — ' Well, well, Master Kingston,' quoth he, ' I see the matter against me how it is fram- ed ; but if I had served God as diligently as I have done the king, he would not have given me over in my grey hairs. Howbeit, this is the just re- ward that I must receive for my worldly diligence and pains that 1 have had to do him service ; only to satisfy his vain pleasure, not re- garding my godly duty." The dying man, having laid his injunctions upon Kingston most humbly to commend him unto his royal majesty, proceeded thus : — " ' And say furthermore, that I request his Grace, in God's name, that he have a vigilant eye to depress this new pernicious sect of Lu- therans, that it do not increase within his dominions through his negli- gence, in such a sort, as that he shall be fain at length to put harness upon his back to subdue them; as the king of Bohemia who had good game, to see his rude conmions (then infected with Wickliffe's heresies) to spoil and murder the spiritual men and religious persons of his realm ; the which fled to the king and his nobles for succour against their frantic rage ; of whom they could get no help of defence or re- fuge, but (they) laughed them to scorn, having good game at their spoil and consumption, not regarding their duties nor their own de- fence. — " ' Master Kingston, farewell. I can no more, but wish all things to have good success. My time draweth on fast. I may not tarry with you. And forget not, I pray you, what I have said and charged you withal ; for when I am dead, ye shall perad venture remember my words much better.' And even with these words he began to draw his speech at length, and his tongue to fail ; his eyes being set in his head, whose sight failed him. Then we began to put him in remembrance of Christ's passion ; and sent for the abbot of the place to anneal him, who came with all speed, and ministered unto him all the service to the same belonging ; and caused also the guard to stand by, both to hear him talk before his death, and also to witness of the same ; and inconti- nent the clock struck eight, at which time he gave up the ghost, and thus departed he tliis present life." He expired, as he had predicted, as the clock struck eight, on the 28th of November, 1530, in the 60th year of his age. The moral pathos of this closing scene of Wolsey's life must soften our feelings towards him. But historical justice requires us to pro- nounce the most unqualified sentence of condemnation upon his whole po itical career as one of boundless and unprincipled ambition through- out. Peiuod.] ANNE BOLEYN. 527 HORN A. I). 1 j07. — i)Ii:d a. I). I.O.'iG. This unfortunate })rincoss was born in ir)07. Her father was Sir Thomas Boleyn, afterwards created earl of Wiltshire and Ormonde, and her mother was daughter of the duke of Norfolk. At the age ol seven or eight, she accompanied Mary, Henry's sister, to France, at the time wlien that princess became the wife of Louis XH. After Mary's return to England, Anne remained in France, as an attendant on Claude, tlie queen of Francis I. and she is said to have lived tliereafter with the duchess of Alen9on. The precise date of her final return to England is uncertain. Burnet supposes that she came back with her father in 1527. In England she became a maid of honour to queen Catharine, in \\hich situation she seems to have been free from gross outward im- propriety of conduct. " She carried herself so," says Burnet, speaking of this period of her life, " that, in tlie whole progress of the suit" — this refers to the action of divorce from Catharine — " I never find the queen herself or any of her agents fix the least ill character on her, which would most certainly have been done had there been any just cause or good colour for it."' During her residence at court, she attracted the attention of Lord Percy, son of the earl of Northumber- land, and a page in the household of Cardinal Wolsey. Accordingly, a marriage between Anne and Lord Percy was proposed, but the car- dinal and the king himself objected to the match. Considering the future history of Henry, it is natural to infer from his objecting to the marriage of the noble youth, that his own attaciuuent to the young and beautiful maid of honour had begun; and from a confession of the king himself, an excellent historian has traced that attachment to the year 1527.* Accordingly we find that in May of that year she was his partner in the dance, at a royal entertainment given at Greenwich. It was in the July innnediately succeeding, that Knight was sent to Rome, with a view to a divorce from Catharine. While the tedious process for ob- taining that object was proceeding, Anne was considered as a tiivourite, if not as a mistress, of the king; and few, perhaps, if any, will doubt, tliat his attachment to the maiden, whose external charms may be allowed — without derogating from the virtuous character of Catharine — to have been greatly su])erior to the qui;en's, fostered, or at least accom- })anied his scruples respecting the validity of his marriage, supposing these to be sincere. As to the particular manner, however, in which his passion influenced his mind in his attempt to have the marriage nullified, there may be room for question. Sir James Mackintosh seems ' History of the Reformation, Book ii. The same author has largely refuted, in u- garil to Anne Bolevn, an old historian, Sanders, by whom she is represented as the daughter of Henry Vlll. himself by the lady of Sir Thomas Boleyn, and as very dis- solute in the early period of her life. Sanders seems to have aimed at blackening the character of Anne, under the influence of party-feeling. ' Sir J. Mackintosh, History of Kngland, vol. ii. p/l91. "He reproaches her," says (Jie historian, speaking of Henry and Anne, "for cruelty to one ' who was one wholo year struck with the dart of love,' which fixes the commencement of his passion in 1527.' 528 POLITICAL SERIES. [Fourth to think,^ that tlie only conceivable reason for Henry's perseverance in triat long and tedious process, is, the refusal of Anne Boleyn to gratify his desire on any other terras than those of an authorized marriage. To us, however, it appears, that, independently of such resistance on the part of Anne, the scholastic scruples and headstrong spirit of the king might go far to explain his perseverance in his suit for a divorce. But that she did hold out against the unlawful gratification of his desires, iseems generally admitted, even among those who may doubt wliether she did not yield previously to her private marriage with the king in l5oo — a question which, like many others, it is now, perhaps, impossi- ble to settle. One of her biographers represents it as questionable whether she would not have been less guilty in becoming Henry's con- cubine, than in causing the degradation of the virtuous Catharine.'* But whether she was influenced in the desire which she seems to have felt for the king's divorce, by her judgment on the moral questions it involved, or whether she was not prompted merely by the prospects of ambition and the blandishments of love, are points perha];)s no longer ascertainable. That she heartily entered, however, into Henry's scheme, or at least felt a personal interest in the result, it may be safely inferred from a letter addressed by her and the king conjointly to Cardinal Wolsey. At length, after a protracted suit for a divorce, and before he had obtained it, the king was privately married to Anne Boleyn, who had previously been created marchioness of Pembroke. The marriage took place, by one account, on the 14th of November, 1532, by ano- ther, about the 25th of January, 1533. Dr Lee is said to have per- foimed the ceremony, in presence of Lord and Lady Wiltshii'e and other friends. In May thereafter. Archbishop Cranmer pronounced the king's marriage with Catharine invalid, and on the 1st of June, Anne was crowned. " Which mass and ceremonies done," says Cranmer, speaking of this occasion, " all the assembly of noblemen brought her into Westminster- hall again, where was kept a great solemn feast all that day ; the good order thereof were too long to write at this time to you. But now. Sir, you must not imagine that this coronation was before her marriage ; for she was married much about St Paul's da^ last, as the condition thereof doth well appear by reason she is now somewhat big with child. Notwithstanding, it hath been reported throughout a great part of the realm that I married her, which was plainly false, for myself knew not thereof a fortnight after it was done. And many other things be also reported of me, which be mere lies and tales."^ On the 7th of September, Anne was delivered of a daugliter — after- wards the illustrious queen Elizabeth. But from the height of her greatness, a few intermediate notices of her life will bring us to the cir- cumstances of its melancholy close. That she joined her husband in his support of religious reformation there cannot be a doubt ; nor, on the other hand, can we deny, that, in the earlier part of her residence at court she conformed to the Romish church. It has been represented '' Life of Sir Thomas More, in Lives of British Statesmen (Lardner's Cabinet Cy- clopiBdia), vol. i. p. 77. * Female Biography, by Mary Hays, vol. ii. p. 10. * Original Letters, illustrative of English Histor}', edited by Mr Ellis, 1st Series. Teriod.] ANNE BOLEYN 52'J as no very uncharitable way of accounting for her renunciation of the authority of Rome, to consider it as resulting from a belief tiiat it would clear for her a passage to the throne. It might seem almost un- natural to suppose, that this consideration, and a prudent or somewnal careless subservience to the will of Henry, had no influence in deter- mining her profession and her creed ; but, it is also to be considered, that the question of ecclesiaijtical authority became, about the time of her marriage, a subject of learned and general debate, so that a mind even moderately free from Romish bigotry, might be led to a change of opi- nion on the subject.^ It is remarked, too, by Bishop Burnet, that she received impressions in favour of Protestantism during her residence with the duchess of Alen^on.'' She chose Staunton and LatinuT as chap- lains ; and to her influence has been attributed the choice of Henry to have the Bible translated into English, and also an at*^empt which was made to accommodate the differences with foreign Protestants. She also seems to have been of a kind disposition. It is said that, in the course of nine months, she bestowed upwards of £14,000 in charity ; and, in a statute granting pardon to persons not included in the act of attainder, for concealment and misprision in the matter of the maid of Kent, the king is represented as bestowing it " at the humble suit of his well-beloved wife. Queen Anne." Two eminent official characters — Fisher, bishop of Rochester, and Sir Thomas More — fell victims to their refusal to take the oath relative to the new succession to the crown. The latter had set himself decid- edly against the marriage of the king with Anne, and had cautioned the bishops against attending at her coronation. But, when in prison, and shortly before his execution, which occurred early in July, 1535, his amiable heart seemed to think of her with pity. He asked of his daughter, Margaret Roper, how the new queen was. " Never better," she replied. "Never better, Meg !" said More, "Alas! it pitieth me to remember into what misery, jjoor soul, she shall shortly come." The prediction was fulfilled — -and in a manner of which she seems to have little thought, when she gave signs of satisfaction on occasion of Cath- arine's death, in January, 1536. That year, Anne was delivered of a still-born son. To this circumstance a change in Henry's affection has been ascribed — a change whicii was encouraged by her enemies of the Romish church. On the 24th of April, there was issued a com- mission to certain noblemen and judges, to inquire into allegations which had been raised against her : and, according to a popular story, at a tilting held at Greenwich on the 1st of May, a handkerchief drop- ped by the queen, and picked up and returned to her by Henry • See a summar)' of arguments on both sides of the qnestiun between tlie king and the pope ill reference to ecclesiaslieal supremacy, and a repiesentatiim of the successive steps by which the power of the latter Ciime to l)e called in question, in Burnet's ' His- tory of the Reformation.' It is not impossible that Henry himself was in some de- gree.induenced by the arguments adduced in support of the civil magistrate, on the sub- ject of ecclesiastical authority — an idea not inconsistent with the belief that there is truth ir. the pointed, but somewhat indecorous line of Gray : — " And Gospel lifjiit first beamed from BuUen's eyos." ' " Anne Boleyn," says he, 'Hist, of Reform.' "had, in the duchess of Alencon's court, (who inclined to the reformaiion), received such impressions as made them"' — members of one of the English universities — "fear that her greatness and Cranmer's preferment, would encourage heresy, to which the universities were furiously averse." I. 3 X 530 POLITICAL SERIES. [Folktu Norris, stirred the mind of Henry, who forthAvith left the hall, and or- dered Anne to be confined to her own apartments. At first she was cheerful, observing, that she thought the king merely meant to try her, but at length, considering the matter as serious, she begged that she might partake of the sacrament. On the 2d of May, her relative, the duke of Norfolk, conveyed her to the tower. On landing, she declared her innocence of what was alleged against her ; and, on hearing that she was to take up her residence in that part of the tower where she lay at the time of her coronation, she exclaimed, " It is too good for me ! Jesus have mercy upon me I" In her imprisonment, she was at- tended i)y her uncle's wife, lady Boleyn, with whom she had lived on by no means friendly terms. Words that she uttered in what seemed a state of hysterical excitement were reported, and she was cross-exam- ined as to what she had said. Hearing that Norris, and a musician of the name of Smeaton, had accused her of guilt, she exclaimed, " O Norris ! hast thou accused me ? Thou art in the tower with me, and we shall die together, — and thou too, Mark I " She acknowledged that certain free expressions had passed between herself and Norris, Smeaton, and an individual of the name of Weston. Confessions which a milder judge might have deemed a candid or an extorted acknowledgment of such levity as was natural to a rash and lively woman, though no un- faithful and undutiful wife, were not unlikely to be viewed, by Henry and the enemies of Anne, with a harsh and suspicious eye. She de- clared, however, to the lieutenant of the tower, that she was " clear from the company of men," and " the king's true wife." From the tower, the queen was conveyed back to Greenwich, where she was examined before the privy council. On her return, she com- plained that she had " been cruelly handled by the council." On tlie 10th of May, an indictment for high treason was found against her. Lord Rochford, Norris, Smeaton, Weston, and a gentleman of the privy-chamber, of the name of Brereton. On the I2th, the four last mentioned of these persons were tried, and condemned. All of them, except Smeaton, denied to the last. He acknowledged unlawful inter- com-se with the queen ; but of the circumstances in which the confession was made, we are in a great measure ignorant ; a circumstance suggested by a historian, to which, for the sake of historical justice, it is important to advert. On the 15th, the queen, and Lord Rochford, her brother, who, it appears, had been seen leaning on her bed, were tried within the tower, whether for the concealment of injustice, or from motives of delicacy, or for some other reason, we shall not decide. After the trial of her brother, Anne came forward to the bar without the attend- ance of any legal advisers. She appeared as her own advocate, and it was remarked that she delivered " a most noble speech." We know not that there is any account, at once copious and authentic, of the trial. It appears, however, tliat Smeaton, who had been pi-eviously convicted, was not confronted with the queen on this occasion ; and " for the evidence," says an old writer, " as I never could hear of any, small I believe it is." Sentence of death was pronounced against her, and, on the 17th, she was conveyed to Lambeth, where Cranmer pro- nounced her marriage with Henry null, setting forth, that she had confessed " certain, just, and lawful impediments," which rendered Lt " utter]}' void" from the very first. What these alleged " imped'niciits" rr-niop.] ANNE BOLEYN. 531 were, si'cnis a point l)y no means certain. The olijcction has been supposed to be a contract between Anne and Lord P«rcy, now earl oi Northumberland, entered into before her marriage with the king. Percy liad spoken to Wolsey as if he had given her a pledge from whicli it would have been unsafe or dishonourable in him to withdraw; " br.t in a letter, dated a few days before the trial of tin; (|U('en, he say.s that lie had solenuily disclaimed having entered into such a contract. But whatever the impediments may have? been, it is not without reason that Burnet represents the sentence at the trial and the decision of the prelate, as somewhat inconsistent with each other. " Ilcr marriage to the king," says he," " was either a true marriage or not. If it was true, then the annulling of it was unjust ; and if it was no true marriagi;, then the attainder was unjust ; for there could be no breach of that faith which was never given." After her condemnation, the queen possessed an air of cheerfulness and even gaiety. Her tranquillity and satisfaction in prosjiect of death have, not without reason, been suggested as an evidence of innocence. " I hear I shall not die before noon," said she, on the day of her death, to the lieutenant of the tower ; " I am sorry for it, for I thought to be dead by this time, and past my pain." He told her there should be no pain. " I heard say," said she, " that the executioner brought over was more expert than any in England. That is \ery good, for I have a little neck," putting her hands around it, and laughing heartily. On the last day of her life, she again affirmed her innocence , and, after stating that, in prospect of her approaching death, the queen, remembering her severity towards the Lady Mary, besought the wife of the lieutenant of the tower, to go, in her name, to the princess, and ask forgiveness for the wrong. Bishop Burnet remarks on the circum- stance, as appearing to indicate, that, if Anne had been guilty of greater faults, she would not have denied them to the last. Strong, however, as are the presumptions in her favour, and imperfect as appears to be the evidence against her, we shall not deny tliat her guilt or innocence is an undetermined, perhaps an undeterminable question ; a secret, which, like so many other points in history, awaits for its decision — the judgment-seat of God. The scaflbld was erected within the tower. When brought forth to execution on the 19tli of May, 1536, the queen addressed the audience in the following terms : — " Good Christian people, I am come hither to die according to law. By the law I am judged to die, and therefore I shall say nothing against it. 1 am come hither to accuse no man, nor to speak any thing of that whereof I am accused. 1 pray, God sa\e th(! king, and send liira long to reign over you ; for a gentler or more merci- ful prince was there never. To me he was ever a good, gentle, and sovereign lord. If any person will meddle with my cause, 1 require them to judge the best. Thus I take my leave of the world and of you, and I heartily desire you all to pray for me." She commended her soul to Jesus Christ, and, after some ditRculty occasioned by her reluctance to have a bandage round her eyes, received the fatal blow. Whfin the prosecution of Anne Boleyn commenced, Henry had con- ceived an affection for the beautiful Jane Seymour. 'J'his attachnienl " Hisun) of lilt' Ucroniiaiion, ISook iii. 532 POLITICAJL SERIES. [Fouuth lias naturally been supposed to have influenced liis behaviour towards Anne, On the very day after the execution of the queen, he married Jane, who " was happy," says Bishop Burnet, " in one thing, that she did not outlive his love." BORN A. D. 1480. DIED A. D. 1535. This great man, so justly admired for his virtues, and especially for his political integrity when exposed to peculiar trials, was the son of Sir John More, knight, one of the judges of the King's Bench. He was born in the year 1480, in Milk street, London, and educated at a school in the immediate neighbourhood, under the eye of his father, who paid much attention to his improvement. The genius and docility of the son amply repaid the solicitude of the parent, who had the satisfaction of seeing him, at the early age of sixteen, distinguished at college for his classical and scientific attainments. Having remained two years at Christ church, Oxford, he applied himself to the study of the law at New inn, London, and subsequently at Lincoln's inn, of which his father was a member. On being called to the bar he soon distinguished himself, and was beginning to acquire reputation, when his mind took a sudden turn in favour of a monastic life, and for some time he secluded himself from the world. In the retirement of the charter-house he spent his days and nights in devo- tion and austerities, such as wearing a hair-shirt next the skin, frequent fasting, and sleeping on a bare plank, — at the same time prosecuting scholastic studies. From this course, however, he M'as induced to swerve at the earnest solicitation of his father ; and he once more resumed his station at the bar. On coming of age he was returned a member of parliament. Here he opposed the motion for granting a large subsidy for the marriage of Margaret, the eldest daughter of Henry VH., with James of Scotland ; and with so much vigour that the motion was rejected. The king, on being informed that " a beardless boy had frustrated all his schemes," gratified both his resentment and his cupidity by committing More's father to the tower on some frivolous charge ; from whence he w as released by paying a fine of £100. The rising celebrity of young More procured him the office of law- reader at Furnival's Inn ; and, by a singular coalition of sacred and civil duties, he at the same time read public lectures in the church of St Lawrence, Old Jewry, on Augustine's great work, De Civitate Dei. This latter occupation seems to have suited his taste rather than the former : indeed, he carried his ideas on religion so far as to have intended to become a Franciscan friar. This spell, however, was broken by the more powerful charm of a matrimonial alliance. Being on a visit to John Colt, Esq. of Newhall in Essex, he was smitten with the attractions of the second of his three daughters; but, by a singular regard to pro- priety, sacrificed his inclinations, and made his suit to the eldest daughter, lest she should feel hurt by the preference for her sister For seven years, until her death, this lady rewarded her husband's self- Pkriod.] Sm THOMAS MOItE. 533 denial by a grateful and tender affection, wliicli was roturi;ed by liin) with equal tenderness; his social, lively turn endeared him to iionie, and his house was tlie abode of comfort and j)eaee : — so different was his present situation from tiie monk's cell to wliich lie iiad Ixfbre been devoted. He was now engaged at tiie liead of his profession as a lawyer; and, from his known iiatred of a bad cause, took the lead in every thing at the bar.' His eminence as a lawyer procured him in 1508, even during the life of Henry VH., the appointment of judge of the sheriff's court in the city of London, with other honourable distinctions. Tlius ad- vancing in tame and esteem lie became particularly noticed by the man who sat at the helm of affairs. Cardinal Wolsey, and in 1514 he entered upon a diplomatic mission with Bishop Tonstal and Dr Kniglit, whc were despatched by Henry to Flanders for the purpose of renewing the alliance with the archduke of Austria, afterwards Charles V. On his return he was otiered a pension I)y the king, wiiich he declined, but accepted the place of master of the requests. Soon after he was created a knight, and admitted a member of tiie privy council. About the same time, having become a widower, he married again ; ami, according to Erasmus, the lady would not have appeared to possess any attractions except in the eyes of her devoted husband. Being now much at court he became a special favourite with the king, who was charmed with his vivacity, and consulted him freely on matters of state, placing great reliance on his judgment and temper.^ Sir Thomas, however, had the discernment to perceive the precarious tenure of courtly favour ; and, from his affectionate regard to his family, and the superior enjoyment of domestic life, he gradually declined from his fre- quent attendance at court, assuming purposely a more grave deport- ment in opposition to that natural facetiousness which made him the life of tiie royal circle. The king, notwithstanding, continued to bestow on his faithful ser- vant the most substantial proofs of his regard; and, on the dc^atli of the treasurer of the exchequer, in 1520, he was appointed his successor. In 1523, through the influence of tiie court, he was chosen speaker of the house of commons. Here he opposed Wolsey, and was again the means of preventing the levy of an oppressive subsidy. Wolsey had appeared in the house with a royal message requiring the sum of £800,000, and proposing to raise it by a property tax of twenty per cent. The cardinal having in vain attempted to break the obstinate silence of the house, addressed himself to the speaker, who respectfully intimated to him that no debate could proceed in his presence. The cardinal afterward sent for the speaker : " Would to God I" said he, " INIaster More, you had been at Rome, when I made you speaker I" " Your grace not offended," he replied, " so Avould I too, my lord." Such was his integrity, however, that his independent conduct contributed to his promotion, and in addition to his other posts, the chancellorship of the ducliy of Lancaster was bestowed upon him, and he was made treasurer of the household. Henry, in short, seemed <1( termined to engage Sir Tliomas effectually to himself, and cultivated the most familiar acquaintance with him — frequently visiting him at Chelsea, ' lloper. ' Erasmus. 5'6l POLITICAL SEPvir-S. [X^ouktu where he had recently erected a house on the banks of the Thames. But if Henry had discernment enough to value the character of the liivourite, the latter was not unmindful of the adage, that ' favour is de- ceitful.' In illustration of this remark, it is related, that the king, having been walking in the gardens at Chelsea for an hour, witli his arm thrown familiarly over Sir Thomas's shoulder, one of his sons-in- law afterwards observed to him that he must feel particularly gratified on being upon such intimate terms with the king: to which he replied; — " I thank the Lord, I find his (jrace to be a very good master indeed, and believe he is as partial to me, as to any subject within his realm : but yet I have no cause to presume on his favour, for if my head could win him but a castle in France, it would not long remain on i:)y shoulders."^ In the years 1526 and 1529, Sir Thomas was employed with Wolsey, Tonstal, and others, in embassies on the continent. He was engaged also in correspondence with Erasmus and other learned men, and under- took to defend the king by a violent attack on Luther, who had pub- lished several animadversions on the royal ' Defender of the Faith.' During the disgraceful proceedings against Queen Catharine, and while the affair of the divorce divided the country, Sir T.homas inclin- ed to the side of the queen. His opinion and conduct would have great weight, and it was by all means desirable, if possible, to obtain his sanction to a measure which the king was resolved to carry. In this view, as well as on account of his extraordinary merits, when by the fall of Wolsey, the great seal was vacant, that high office was con- ferred on Sir Thomas More. The chancellorship had usually bo'u held only by dignified churchmen,* but under the extraordinary circum- stances of the court, there were reasons why the post should neither be given to them nor accepted by them. The innovation here commenced. As a scholar. More was universally celebrated ; as a lawyer, he had practised long with great reputation, he had much experience in the business of life, and had exeaated with satisfaction important diplomatic duties: even the cardinal, whom he had thwarted, acknowledged that he knew no one more worthy to be his successor. On the 26lh ol October, 1529, he was, therefore, installed with public honours. A crowd of bishops and noblemen accompanied him to the starchamber: and the duke of Norfolk conducted hira to his seat, pronounced an eulogium on his talents and virtues, and observed that, if, in this instance, the king had departed from ancient precedent, he was fully justified by the superior merit of the new chancellor. More in re- turn professed his obligation to the king and to the duke ; and at the same time paid an eloquent compliment to the abilities of his prede- cessor, whose example would stimulate him to the faithful discharge of his duty, and whose fall would teach him to moderate his ambition.'' The chancellor, by his whole conduct during the short period in wliicli he retained this dignity, fully justified the high expectations formed re- specting his character; and, after presiding in the court of chancery two years, such had been his diligence, that one day on calling for the next cause, it was answered that there was not one then depending. ' Roller. * "Thorpe, ill 1.S71, iH"! Knivett, in 1372, seem to be the last exceptions.'' — L'lfenj M)re iiiCabiiiet. Libraiy. ' More's Life of Sir Thomas More. PiciMoi).] SIR THOMjVS more. 53.5 Parties now ran liigh. The divorce of Catharine involved several re- ligious questions of great inipoilancc, and was intimately connected with the ultimate renunciation of tiie papal authority in Kngland. The chanc(dlor, by the king's desire, hail discussed with llic; Doctors Lee, Crannier, Fox, and Nicholas, the lawfulness of the divorce ; hut the ap- parent weakness of their reasoning served only to convince him of the soundness of his own opinion ; and, at his earnest requei«t, he was in- dulged with the permission to retire from the council-chamber as often as that subject was brought under consideration. In the discharge ol his office, however, he found himself unavoidably engaged in matters which he could not reconcile witli his conscience : and, at length he tendered his resignation on the ground that age and infirmity admon- ished him to give his whole attention to the concerns of his soul. Henry, who liad flattered himself that the repugnance of More would gradually give way, was aware how nmch his retirement would preju- dice the royal cause in the mind of the public. But he deemed it pru- dent to suppress his feelings ; disnussed his faithful servant with pro- fession of esteem and promises of future favour ; gave the seals to Sir Thomas Audeley, a lawyer of less scrupulous conscience, and ordered the new chancellor, at his installation, to pronounce a eulogy on the merits of his predecessor, ex^Dressing at the same time, the reluctance with which the king had accepted his resignation.^ On the day after the resignation, he attended with his family at church, and heard mass. On the conclusion of the service, instead of proceeding in state, he turned round to his wife, and, with a low bow, said, " Madam, my lord is gone." This was the first intimation to his family that he had resigned, and produced, from the lips of his disap- pointed lady, a torrent of reproach, which he was prepared to endure with his accustomed equanimity. Having thus made his escape from court to the beloved retirenuiit of his family, his whole care was to provide for their comfort, and to prepare for that fate which, amidst all the royal professions of regard, he foreboded. As a proof of his moderation and integrity, after filling some of the highest otiices of state, and being engaged in a lucrative profession for nearly twenty years, his annual income, on his retire- ment, did not exceed £100; and, after his debts were paid, not more than that amount remained to him in money. The time was now approaching when the friend and favourite of royalty was to realise the truth of his own predictions. Much as Henry might have been attached to his chancellor, his inflexibility on the subject of the divorce, and his refusal to assent to the new doctrine of the royal supremacy in the church, were quite sufiicient to alienate the king for ever from him, and to convert his favour into the most malignant and cruel hatred. The king, with the divorce party, there- fore, commenced their persecution by inserting his name in a bill of attainder for misprision of treason. This charge was grounded on some slight communications which he had held with Elizabeth Barton, tlu* maid of Kent, who had mingled political matters with her pretended revelations. From this charge, however. Sir Thomas defended himsel. with such evidences that the indictment was witluhawn. This sciieme ' Moii epiat. !id Era&nium. 536 POLITICAL SERIES. [Fourth having failed, in about a fortnight afterward he was summoned, with Fisher, bishop of Rochester, to the council at Lambeth, and required to take the new oath of succession. More, who was introduced first, otfered to swear to tlie succession alone, but not to every particular con- tained in the act, alleging that " the act of parliament was like a sword with two edges ; for if a man answer one way, it will destroy the soul, and if he answer another, it will destroy the body." The answer oi the bishop being substantially the same, they were both committed to the tower. Being attainted again of misprision of treason, for refusing the oath, he became subject to the loss of all his property and to per- petual imprisonment. After a rigorous confinement of fifteen months in the tower, during which time he was supported by the charity of his friends, conveyed by the hands of his favourite daughter, Margaret Roper, he was at length placed a prisoner at the bar of that very court, in which he had presided as judge with universal applause. To make the greater impression, he was conducted on foot, through the most frequented streets, from the tower to Westminster-hall. He appeared in a coarse woollen gown ; his hair, which had lately become grey, his face, which, though cheerful, was pale and emaciated, and the staff" with which he supported his feeble steps, announced the length and severity of his confinement, and a general feeling of horror and sympathy ran through the spectators. The indictment had been framed of enormous length and unexampled exaggeration. As soon as it had been read, the chancellor, who was assisted by the duke of Norfolk, Fitzjames, the chief justice, and six other commissioners, informed the prisoner that it was still in his power to close the proceedings and to recover the royal favour, by abjuring his former opinion. With expressions of gratitude he declined the favour, and commenced a long and eloquent defence. Though, he observed, it was not in his power to recollect one third part of the indictment, he would venture to comprise its contents under four heads. 1. In the first place, it was objected to him as an offence, that he had disapproved of the king's marriage with Anne Boleyn. He acknow- ledged the charge ; but then his disapprobation had never been com- municated to any other person than the king himself: and not even to the king, till Henry had commanded him, on his allegiance, to disclose iiis real sentiments. In such circumstances, to dissemble would have been a crime, — to speak with sincerity was a duty. 2. He was next charged with having traitorously sought to deprive the king of his title of head of the church. But where was the proof? That, on his examination in the tower, he had said, that he was by his attainder become civilly dead : that he was out of the protection of the law, and, therefore, could not be required to give an opinion of the merits of the law : and that his only occupation was, and would be, to meditate on the passion of Christ, and to prepare himself for his own death. But, what was there of cr ime in such an answer ? It contained no word, it proved no deed against the statute. All that could be objected against him was silence ; and silence had not yet been declared treason. 3. It was maintained that, in different letters written by him in the tower, he had exhorted Bishop Fisher to oppose the supremacy. He denied it. Let the letters be produced ; by their contents he was willing to stand or fall. 4. But Fisher, on his examination, had held PEUion.] SIR THOMAS MORE. 537 the same language aa More, a proof of a conspiracy between them. What Fislipr Iiad said he knew not : but it could not excite surprise, if tlic similarity of their case had sun of his New Testament, for the purpose of burning the copies in Cheap- side. This enabled Tindal to print a second and improved edition, which was imported from Antwerp. Lord-chancellor More, inquiring who it was that supported and encouraged Tindal, \vas told that it was the bisliop of London, who had bought up half the old impression. This raised the laugh against More and the bishop. But they should have seen the impolicy of continuing their system of persecution against t^ucli a cause. And it seems the more strange that Sir Thomas More should have jiromoted such bloody persecutions, which must have been abhorrent to his nature, when he says, in his Utopia, written in young- er years,, that "tlie Utopians allow liberty of conscience, and force their religion upon nobody : that they hinder none from a sober inquiry' into truth, nor use any violence upon the account of a difl'erent belief." These very Utopians, in the persons of the reformed, he and his col- leagues burned at the stake. Three centuries, however, have convert- ed the fabulous laws of Utopia into the established principles of Christ- endom ; and Sir Thon)as More would now be as strenuous an advocate for liberty of conscience as he was formerly a conscientious persecutor of conscientious sufferers. Sir Thomas More was a man of literary habits and character, as well 1\ I'l.Kioi).] CROJnVEI.L, KAIU. OF ESSFA'. o'.S.) US Ji maji of business. Besides maintaining constant correspondence with tiio l(>arn(!d iu Europe, he wrote nmiiy works, ])riiicipally oi .) poh'inieal character : his Utopia, iiowcver, is th(! only work wiiicii distini^uishes hiai as a writer. Ilis Euijfiish works were collect- ed and pnhlislied by order of Qikhmi Mary, in 1537 ; his Latin, at Ba- sil, in l.)63, ami at Louvain, in I5G6. Oa the wlioh;, for integrity, disinterestedness, domestic affection, and diligence and fidelity in great public duties, Sir Thomas More stands a j)attern and an ornanu'nt Ui tile English nation. DIED A. I). I.VIO. The father of this distinguished minister of Henry VIII. followed the humble business of a blacksmith, at Putney, in the county of Surrey. At his native place, young Cromwell received an imjierfect education, an I thereafter, prompted, perhaps, by an ardour of disposition destined i > open up his way to tlie lofty station which he subsequently fille;), L^' left his country for the continent. At Antwerp, he found employ luui!! in the English factory. He afterwards served under the duke of Bour- bon, and is said to have been present at the sack of Rome, in 152iS. This connection may have had some influence in leading him to thos:' Protestant sentiments which he afterwards professed.' On returning to England, Cromwell became a confidential servant to Cardinal Wolsey, with whose falling glories his name has been so indissolubly combined by Shakspeare, not without historical reason, though perhaps not witiiout the licence of a poet in regard to the details.^ The actual part which Cromwell took on occasion of his master's fall corresponded witli the tribute to his fidelity which the dramatist puts into the mouth of Wolsey. It is recorded, to the honour of the former, that when the fallen minister was unable to pay his servants during his residence at Esher, Cromwell proposed that a subscription should be made among those who had shared in the cardinal's bounty — which subscription Avas carried into effect, and headed by Cromwell himself. On another occasion, when the charge against the cardinal, stated hy .Sii- Tlioinas, however, Sir James Alafkintosh, inliis life of Sir Thomas Mure, ( Li res of British Statesmen, J remarks, that it is "a violent exaggeration." » Kiiiff Henry VIII., Act II., Sc. 2. It is by a conception at once moral and pathe- tic, tliat the cardinal, bereft of his honours by the powerful hand that conlerred them, is in this scene represented as inculcating on a faithful servant, likol)' to rise at court, a more virtuous couise than that which he himself had pursued- From history, how- ever, it appears to have been to Kingston, the constable of the tower, soon before the cardinal's death, that he uttered those celebrated expressions, addressed, in the pla> . to Cromwell : — " Had I but served my God witb half the zeal I servf d my king, he wouUl not in mine age Have left me naked to niioB enemies." 540 POLITICAL SERIES. [Tocrtii agreed to by the house of lords in November, 1529, came down to the house of commons, Cromwell defended his master's cause in a style which has not only gained him honour, but has been considered as having occasioned the triumph of Woisey over the articles in ques- tion, and laid a foundation for Cromwell's own advancement at the court of Henry. On Woisey 's death, Cromwell devoted himself to the service of the king, to whom he is said to have been recommended by Sir Cristopher Hales and Sir John Russel, the latter of whom had been indebted to him for an escape from danger on the continent. Shortly after giving a bold specimen of his political skill, and of his disposition, it may be, to gratify his master, by drawing from the clergy, with royal authority, the sum of £118,840, on the allegation, that the oath of allegiance to the pope, taken by the bishops at their consecration, was illegal, he received the honour of knighthood, and was admitted to the pri%'j' council. To use the words of Shakspeare, " There is a tide in the affairs of men, Wliit'h, taken at the tlooil, leads on to fortune." Cromwell, it seems, had "taken the current when it served," and we have now to follow him in a triumphant course of political advancement. In 1534, he was appointed secretary of state, and also master of the rolls. The same year, he became chancellor of the university of Cambridge. When the validity of the king's second marriage was op- posed by Sir Thomas More, Cromwell, as a friend of that bigotted, but gentle and illustrious man, united with Cranmer, in attempting to pre- vail on him to yield in his resistance. Nor was their friendly attempt entirely without effect, though it was with such as ultimately proved insufficient to save Sir Thomas from his speedily approaching fate. Cromwell seemed to perceive the result of More's refusal, and declaimed that he would rather that his son had lost his head than that his friend should have declined the oath proposed to him. " Cromwell," adds a late biographer of More,^ with undue severity perhaps, " Cromwell was not a good man, but the gentle virtue of More subdued even the bad." Sir Thomas himself acknowledges that Cromwell " tenderly favoured him." The attachment of Fisher, bishop of Rochester, to the delusion of ' the Maid of Kent,' was another subject that, about this time, occupied the attention of Cromwell, who wrote the bishop a letter, urging him to ask the king's forgiveness, but sharp and severe in style, to a degree, indeed, which, in our own day would be reckoned insolent. In 1534, Henry, on being invested with ecclesiastical .supremacy in England, appointed Cromwell his vicar-general and vice-gerent,* in virtue of which, the king's supremacy was in a great degree committed to the minister, who carried on, by means of commissioners, a severe inquu'y into the state of the English monasteries. Much discontent was createil by the sweeping measures against the ecclesiastical institutions which Henry and his minister pursued. Cromwell, accordingly, was looked ' Sir James Macliintosh, in Lives of British Statesmen, p. 91. ' Burnet says, that for two years Cromwell was only vicar-yeneral, l)uC that after re- ceiving a second commission in July 1536, he was called vice-yerent. ricitiou.j cllo^n^'T:LL, eart. of essex. ii 1 1 on with particular dislike, and in the northcM-n rebellion of l.'iO(3, it was pro])osed by an assembly of the rebels, as one of their terms ol aj^r(!onieiit with the kiiij;-, that he, as well £is Audeley, the lord-ehan- cellor, siiould be exeluded fioiii tin; next parliament. The kiii";, in his reply to their address, denied that ho had fewer of nobh; birth in his council tlien than were in it when he came to the crown, and stated that l)e and his council had thought it expedient to have members who understood English law and foreign treaties, and liad accordingly brought in the lord-chancellor and Cromwell. Nor, probably, did the latter stretch his power to the utmost against the Romanists.^ When, amidst the ecclesiastical convulsions of Henry's eventfui reign, religious doctrines were to be settled as well as religious institu- tions changed, the vicar-general supported the reformation by publish iug certain articles of faith at decided variance with the Romish creed, — by encouraging a new translation of the Bible, — by prohibiting, in the king's name, pilgrimages, and other superstitions, — and by joining the duk(! of Suffolk and others in remonstrating with Henry against cruelty in the execution of ' the six articles ' against heresy, passed in 1539. That infamous law the vicar-general himself had not succeeded in efft'ctually resisting — whether or not from excess of caution in a matter which roused even Cranmer's mind to public opposition, it may be impossible to say. But five hundred persons being imprisoned in 1539, for the breach of these articles, Cromwell, along with Audeley and others, remonstrated with the king. Henry pardoned the prison- ers, and, says Burnet, " I find no further proceeding upon this statute until Cromwell fell." ^ When this act was passed, the king sent Crom- well, and also the dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk, to console Cranmer for his disappointment on the occasion. If this, however, was an act of cordiality towards the archbishop, it seems to have failed of promot- ing friendly feeling between Cromwell and the dukt^ of Norfolk ; for it is recorded by Burnet,'' that on the former remarking that he had never liked the manners of his master Wolsej', and that, although the cardi- nal had meant, if created pope, to make him his admiral, he had resolved not to accept of the office and abandon his country, the duke declared that he lied.^ That Cromwell was, in many points attaclietl to the doctrine of the Protestants there is no sufficient reason to deny. But, in 1538, he pronounced sentence against the schoolmaster Lambert, after the debate between the king and that reputed heretic, respecting the corporeal presence, had failed of leading the latter to recant. He had now been advanced to the peerage, and that honour, besides his appointment to the office of keeper of the privy-seal, and, thereafter, to that of chief- justice and the order of the garter, was crowned at last with the title ol carl of Essex and the official post of lord-high-chamberlain ; previously to which appointments he had been pronounced, in virtue of his eccle- siastical office, first in precedence of the officers of state. But the attainment of lofty honours prepared for his more miserable fall. He liad taken an active part in recommending to the king a marriage M'ith Anne of Cleves, in order, it is supposed, to subdue the popish party, which had gained considerable influence at court. The marriage took * History of tlie Reformation, book ill. * BiiriKt, book iii. ' Ibid. ' liuniut, book iii. pl?^e, but it proved distasteful to the royal fancy ; ami CroniweU'd connexion with the matter has been supposed to have led to his over- throw. It was after that marriage had been consummated, indeed, and even after Henry himself had expressed to Cromwell dissatisfaction with the queen, that the minister received from liim the title of earl of Essex. Nor is it consistent, perhaps, with the frank and headstrong character of Henry, to suppose that his conferring that distinction was intended merely as a cloak to an actual intention of reducing iiis minister to ruin, or with the importance of the benefit conferred, to regard it as merely an instance of that " enforced ceremony," described by the poet, as usual " when love begins to sicken and decay." ^ But the duke of Norfolk, who had long been opposed to Cromwell, and on whose daugliter, Catharine Howard, Henry, about this time set his affections, is represented as using her influence to degrade his rival in the king's esteem ; and although it was probably not until the crowning Iionours of Cromwell had been granted, that Henry's old regard for his servant was overthrown, yet, prepared by his passion for Catharine Howard, to view it as a matter of self-interest, that he should treat as well-founded, or even to regard as such, her insinuations against Crom- well, seconded, as perhaps they were, by otliers who looked on the favourite with an evil eye, he might be led to take a distorted view of Cromwell's conduct, in recommending to him a marriage with Anne of Cleves, and thus even hasten his minister to ruin. Nor is this explana- tion of the king's opposition to Cromwell inconsistent with attributing it, in some degree — as Bishop Burnet lias done'" — to an indisposition on the part of Henry to side with the German princes against the emperor, and a wish to rid himself of the blame of what had been considered wrong in his recent policy. Norfolk, the enemy of Cromwell, was employed in arresting him. This he did at the council-table, and from the highest place of honour the unfortunate minister was carried to the tower. The day following, Cranmer wrote in his favour to Henry, declaring that he thought never had king of England such a servant. A bill of attainder, however, was brought^into the house of lords on the 17th of June, and, on the 19th, read a second and a third time, and sent down to the commons. There it stopped, but a new bill was framed, sent up to the house of lords, and passed. The act of attainder declares that Cromwell had proved " the most corrupt traitor and deceiver of the king and the crown that had ever been known in his whole reign." Harsh and subservient as his procedure on some occasions was, the imfortunate minister, in the days of his prosperity, had not been without such qualities of intellect and heart as may induce us to regard him, in the words of Hume, as " worthy of a l)etter master and of a better fate." Defective as his early education was, he could speak and write in the German, French, and Italian languages, and his correspondence and political measures evince an energetic mind. Though he seems to have had many enemies — as might have been expected from the vigour. » We observe that Hishop Burnet is of the siiine opinion on this point. " This," says he, speaking of the fact that Cromwell was created earl of Essex, so late as tlie 14:h oi April, 1540^" This shows that the true cause of Cromwell's fall must be found in some fither thin^ than his making up the king's marriage, who had never thus raised his 'itl-i if he had fntended bo soon to pull him down." History of the Rftformation, Book iii. 1" Burnet. Book iii. Pkui .1..] STAFFORD, DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM. 5i'i perhaps the inoquitablo vij^our, of his measures, the moanriess of hiti . birth, and probably iiis subservience! to the pleasure of th(! king — he was kind to his servants and charitable to the j)oor. He appears to Iiave been remarkable for freedom from overbearing iiaughtiness towards Iiis inferiors, and for tlu; grateful recollection of Ixnefits received at a liumblcr period of his liK-. Of the latter quality the following phiiusnig instance is recorded. When in Italy, being in grc.-at distress, on occa- bion of a defeat sustained by the French army at Castiglione, he was taken notice of by a merchant of the name of Frescol)ald, who gave him sixteen gold ducats, and provided for his passage to his native country. Tliis charitable nu-^rchant was hims(>lf reduceil to exigence, in which condition he was met, in England, by Cromwell, who, now a man of eminence, recognized and assisted him wiio, in earlier days, had so liberally befriended him. But neitiier the virtues nor the services of Cromwell prevailed on the king, to reverse his condemnation ; although a letter, written from the tower, by the stricken minister, appealing in pathetic terms to the ro3'al clemency, is said to have drawn tears from Henry's eyes. "The frail flesh," says the doleful prisoner, " incites me to call to your Grace, for mercy and pardon of mine otiences." But mercy w^as denied, and, on the 28th of July, 1540, he was executed on Tower-hill. He acknowledged himself a sinner against God and his prince, and also confessed that he had been seduced from the true doctrine, declaring, at the same time, that he died in the Catlwlic faith. What he meant to intimate by this declaration it may be impossible to ascertain with certainty, but Burnet thinks that, by the Catholic faith, is to be understood, not the creed of the Popish church, but the Christian faith as separated from the novelties which that church had incorporated with it, and argues, from his praying in the English tongue, and only to God through Jesus Christ, lliat Cromwell was no papist." DIED A. D. 1521. Edward Stafford, duke of Buckingham, was the fifth in descent from Anne Plantagenet, daughter and heiress of Thomas of Woodstock, the youngest son of Edward HI. All his ancestors for upwards of a century back had died violent deaths in the field or on the scaffold ; and he was doomed to no milder fate. It is said that he had ventured to cast his eyes upon the crown, and that one Hopkins, prior of the charter house at Henton, who pretended to the gift of prophecy, had encouraged his vain hopes. His ambitious dreams were not unknown to Henry, who caused him to be arrested in 1521, on a charge of trea- son. Before the duke of Norfolk as high-steward and a jury of seven - " History of the Reformation, book iii. — We know not wliether CiomwdiV confi'ssion ill his exeiHition dictated the fullowing remark of an anonymous bioitrapher of (Jranmen — a remark which seems scarcely consistent witli tlie tenor ofjiislife: — "Croinu.ll was not at heart a friend of the Reformation— but being haled and despised by the adherents of the old worship, he was thrown, by a spirit of revenge, aumng the leaders of tl)e new 1, arning." — Lives of British Statesmen. \o\. i. Si-i POLITICAL SERIES. [Foueti. teen othor peers, he was charged with having encouraged Hopkins to utter these pretended prophetical announcements of his future grandeur. — with having corrupted the fidelity and allegiance of the king's servant* and endeavoured to attach some of them to his own interests, — and with having declared that, on the death of the king, he would make himself the first man in the realm, and bring Wolsey, and some others persons now in power, to the scaffold. Buckingham defended himself eloquently , he objected that nothing in the indictment amounted to an overt act ol treason ; and next attempted to confute the separate charges ; but the evidence of Knivett, a discarded officer of his own household, and who had first furnished that information to Wolsey, which led to the duke's apprehension, united to that of Delacourt his confessor, and Perk his chancellor, was held to have established his guilt, and the peers having pronounced him guilty, Norfolk, with tears in his eyes, gave judgment of death against him. The prisoner heard his fate unmoved, and said: " My lord of Norfolk, you have said to me as a traitor should be said unto : but I was never none. Still, my lords, I nothing malign you for that you have done me. May the eternal God forgive you my death as I do ! I shall never sue to the king for life, howbeit he is a gracious prince, and more grace may come from him than I desire. I desire you my lords, and also my fellows, to pray for me." He Avas beheaded on the 17th of May, 1521, amidst the tears of the surrounding specta- tors, who vented their detestation of Wolsey, whom they regarded as the author of Stafford's death, by loud cries of ' The butcher's son!'' " God have mercy on his soul !" tays the reporter of his trial, " for ho was a most wise and noble prince, and the mirror of all courtesy." ^tpmour, 5©ulu of Somerset DIED A. 1). \552. Edward Seymour, who became duke of Somerset and protector of England, was son of Sir John Seymour of Wolfhall, Wilts, who wa-s also father of Jane Seymour, the wife of Henry VIH., and mother of Edward VI. The younger Seymour studied at Oxford, but in 1533, he attended the duke of Suffolk in a military expedition to France. In 1537, after the marriage of his sister to the English king, Seymour was created earl of Hertford, having previously been raised, in succession, to the honour of kniglithood and the title of Lord Beauchamp. In 1540 he became knight of the garter, and in 1542, he was constituted lord-chamberlain for life. The same year, along with many other nobles, he attended the duke of Norfolk in his advance on the Scottish borders ; and in 1544, he himself commanded an army against Scotland, on which occasion the English troops, landing near Leitli, plundered and set fire to Edinburgh, and being joined by an additional force, destroyed the towns of Haddington and Dunbar, and returned to Eng- land, having lost, in the campaign, but forty men. In 1546, he suc- ceeded the earl of Surrey in the government of Boulogne. The demise of Henry VIII., in the following year, advanced the earl ' Liiig:ird. vnl. iv. p. (K', Period.] SEYMOUR, DXJKE OF SOMERSET. 5io of Hertford to a higlior trust. He was oiio of the sixteen executors to wlioin nciiry Iiad coiuniittcd the care of his son and successor, Edward VI., wlio, at ills fatiior's deatli, was only in tlu; tentii year of his aj^e, and, on that occasion, at a niectirif; of Henry's executors and council, it was j)roposed that a protector of the kingdom shouhi bo chosen, wiin should he under the control of the executors. In spite of tiie op[)osition of WriotIiesl(>y, the chancellor, tlie plan was approved of. Tin; earl ot Hertford, uncle to the young king, was chosen to the office, created duke of Somerset, lord-treasurer, and earl-mareschal ; and, though a layman, invested with ecclesiastical preferment. In March a patent, signed by the young king, entrusted to Somerset, assisted by a council, comj)Osed of the councillors appointed by the late king, Wriothesley excepted,' with regal power. To this arrangement the executors sub- mitted, although, according to Mr Hume, " as the patent, by its very tenor, where the executors are not so much as mentioned, appears to have been surreptitiously obtained from a minor king, the protectorship i)f Somerset was a plain usurpation, which it is impossible by any argu- ments to justif3%" Hertford, like his sister Lady Jane Seymour, was attached to the interests of the Reformation, and in Archbishop Cranmcr he had a coadjutor of similar views. Besides that the individuals concerned in the education of the young king were of the reformed faith, the protector, by a proclamation, appointed a visitation of the dioceses for the cor- rection of vice and superstition. Homilies were issued for the use ot the clergy, and restrictions put on the service of the pulpit. In these measures the protector met with opposition from Bonner, bishop of London, Gardiner, bishop of Winchester, and Tunstal, bishop of Dur- ham. But soon thereafter the council went still farther in the work of innovation on the ancient worship, abolishing several superstitious ceremonies, and ordering images to be removed from the churches — a course in which the parliament of 1549 proceeded, by establishing an English liturgy and allowing the marriage of priests. It is to be regret- ted, however, that the protector's administration was disgraced, according to the illiberal ideas of the time, by persecution for religious faith, in- somuch that, in one case — the condemnation of Joan of Kent for reputed heresy on the incarnation — young Edward, when called to sign the war- rant for her death, was induced to weep, after in vain contending with the archbishop, his sterner counsellor. But before the work of reforming the religion of the country had been completed, the protector had taken steps in another direction. The scheme of Henry for a marriage between Edward and Mary the daughter of the late Scottish king, was also supported by Somerset. Having published a manifesto representing the importance of a union being established between England and Scotland, and having prepared an army of 18,000 men, besides a fleet of 60 ships, on the pretext of re- venging aggressions committed on the English border, he refused to ne- gotiate with Scotland, imless on the condition of such a marriage being agreed to by the Scots. His manifesto failed of producing the effect. ' Tliis nobleman had been previously condemned to a fine, and imprisonment in his own house, besides the forfeiture of his office as chancellor, on account of exercising it by a commission authorised and appointed by himself. 1. 3z 5i6 POLITICAL SERIES [Toukth and on the 2d of September, 1548, he passed, at the bead of his army, itito Scotland. After causing certain small castles on the way to sur- render, he met with an army mustered by Arraa, now governor of Scot- land, and double the number of his own, in the neighbourhood of the Scottish capital. In a skirmish on the occasion, the English army had the advantage ; but on Somerset and the earl of Warwick, by whom he vvas accompanied, examining the camp of the Scottish army, it appear- ed that to engage with them in regular action would be an enterprise of danger, and, instead of attempting it without another effort of recon- ciliation, the protector wrote to Arran, and offered to withdraw his troops, and repair the damage he had done, if the young queen were not betrothed to a foreign prince, nor sent abroad until of an age when she might choose a consort for herself. The proposal was rejected. On Somerset moving towards the sea, the Scots believed the English troops were seeking to embark, quitted their advantageous ground, and came down into the plain. On this artillery began to fire from the Eng- lish ships. Lord Grey making an irregular movement, the onset of his men-at-arms failed of making an adequate impression on the Scots. But Somerset, with other officers, rallied the troops, and on the com- bined movement of the English forces, alarm struck the van and then the body and rear of the Scottish army, who betook themselves to flight, and many of whom fell in the pursuit. The total number lost by the Scots on this occasion has been computed at upwards of 10,000, while Somerset was left not only master of the field, but with an army which had not lost above tAvo hundred men. After this celebrated battle, fought at Pinkey, on Arran's requesting a negotiation respecting peace, Warwick was left with authority to confer on the subject, and Somerset, after taking several castles, returned to England, and convened a parliament, the laws enacted by which have been much commended. During Somerset's absence in Scotland, a rival appeared in the per- son of his own brother, Admiral Lord Seymour, whose fortune and fate will be related in a separate article. But if one danger by which Somerset was threatened disappeared with his brother's death, it was succeeded by others both to him and to the country. England was now disturbed by insurrections occasioned by the privations of the peo- ple. These were subdued, but young Mary of Scotland had been sent over to France, and troops had been sent by that country to the assistance of the Scots. Somerset, at war both with France and Scot- land, was disposed to make peace with both. But from the power which he had assumed, he was become an object of dissatisfaction among his councillors, nor was the favour of the people — although he seems to have aimed at being popular — entirely on his side. His former com- panion the earl of Warwick, together with the earls of Southampton and Arundel, all members of the council, met at Ely-house, and acted independently of Somerset, issuing injunctions to public officers to obey their orders, and requesting other noblemen to join them in their efforts. Next day they were joined by several members of tlie council. Somer- set, on hearing of the peril, caused the king to be removed from Hamp- ton court to Windsor, and armed his followers for a defence. He re- ceived, however, small support. The duke capitulated, and was com- mitted to the tower along with some of his adherents. An indictment was drawn up, charging him with usurpation. He confessed to tha Period.] THOMAS, LORD SEYMOUR, 547 council, on his knees, the truth of all tlio articl(;s, and signed a declara- tion on the subject. Parliament received the document, took away from him his otHces, and imposed on him a line in land of £'2,000 a year. But the latter penalty wiis remitted, and the duke wa-s readmitted to the council; and Warwick, who had now risen to eminence anion;; that boily, agreed that his son should marry Somerset's daughter. But no permanent friendship was sealed betwixt the duke and that ambitious nobleman. Certain expressions used by the latter nssjiecting War- wick being re])orted, the duke, his duchess, and certain of his friends and dependents were imprisoned in October, 1551. Somerscit was accused by Sir Thomas Palmer, a spy, of a design to creati; an insurrec- tion, to take possession of the tower, and even to murder Nonhampton, Pembroke, and Warwick himself, who had now been created earl of Northumberland. He w;is tried before the manjuess of Winchester, high steward, on the charge of high treason, before a jury of twenty pi crs. They returned a verdict favourable to the accused, in respect of the charge of treason; but sentence of death was pronounced on that of having intended to make an assault on privy councillors. The duke acknowledged that he had expressed such an intention, but stated that he had not seriously resolved on the execution of it, and asked par- don of the nobles whom he had aggrieved. He was executed on the 22d of January, 1552. Great sorrow and respect were testified on occasion of his death, and the spectators even to the hist had some an- ticipation of a pardon. But Edward had been guarded against the in- tku'nce of his uncle's friends. That excellent prince survived the protec- tor only about a year and a half, and the execution of Northumberland, a few weeks after his young master's death, was accompanied with popu- lar accusations of his severity to Somerset. That the latter nobleman assumed more power than was legitimate there seems too much reason to believe ; but it is due, perhaps, to his general character to refrain from the opinion that, although he may, naturally, have been irritated by the attempts to sink him from the elevation he had reached, he had a direct and deliberate intention to murder any of his opponents in the council. Like his sister Lady Jane, he seems to have possessed an amiable cast of character, which experience has, in other cases, proved to be consistent with an undue desire of eminence and power. The part he took in favour of the Reformation entitles him to the regard of Protestants; and his conduct of the Scottish war, how insufficient so(!ver may have been the grounds on which it was begun, is fitted to give us a favourable impression of his military skill. A book said to have been written by him during confinement in the tower, is entitled — " A spiri- tual and most precious pearl, teaching all men to love and embrace tht\ cross as a most sweet and necessary thing." DIED A. D. 1548 Thomas Seymour wua a man of more ambition and less prudence than his brother, the protector. Sharing in the good fortunes of his family during the reign of Henry VHl, he received the honour of knio-htliood from that monarch, along Avith considerable pecuniary grants, which enabled him to increase his personal influence, and thus foster mere day-dreams of aggrandisement, which ultimately brought him to the scaffold. On his brother's elevation to the protectorship Sir Thomas was created Lord Seymour of Dudley, and soon after lord- high-admiral of England. But these appointments failed to satisfy the anibitious courtier, and he gradually involved himself in a series ol deep intrigues against the administration of his own brother. He had paid court to Catherine Parr while she was Lady Latimer, and his suit would probably have been successful but for the interference of so for- midable a rival as England's monarch himself. Encouraged by what he had already known of Catherine's sentiments, he ventured to renew his suit to her, almost before tlie grave had closed on her royal hus- band ; and she consented to become his wife with a precipitation high- ly indecorous and reprehensible, and which exposed Seymour himself to the formidable charge conveyed in these words, — " You married the late queen so soon after the late king's death that, if she had conceived straight after, it would have been a doubt whether the child was the king's or yours, — to the peril of the succession." The jealousy of the two brothers gathered new strength from that of their wives. The protector was notoriously under the influence of his wife, Ann Stanhope, a woman of strong and headlong passions, who could not brook the precedency allowed by all others to Catherine as the first female in the kingdom. The queen-dowager maintained her own rights with equal resolution. Their husbands were induced to take part in their quarrel, and the consequences which might have been easily anti- cipated instantly followed, — alienation, suspicion, hatred, took posses- sion of their hearts, and the younger Seymour was treated as all but a declared rebel by his oflended brother. The protector and council now- refused to the lord-admiral certain lands and valuable jewels which he claimed as bequests to his wife from the late king. This and other disap- pointments exasperated the admiral, and he instantly plunged himself into designs against the existing government, which placed his life in extreme jeopardy for a time. An apparent reconciliation between the brothers was at last effected, and the admiral was compelled to change, though not to renounce, his ambitious projects. The princess Elizabeth had been committed, on the death of her father, to the care of the queen-dowager, and usually resided with her at one or other of her jointure-houses. By this means it happened that, after the queen's marriage with Seymour, Elizaljeth found hersell domesticated under the roof of the lord-admiral. The latter seems to have behaved towards the young princess in a very extraordinary and unbecoming manner, though it does not appear that he had formed any design of aspiring to her hand at this early period of their intercourse. It is difficult to account for Catherine's own conduct in this matter. She appears to have been sadly deficient in delicacy at least, for she encouraged her young charge to romp and sport with young Seymoui in a manner altogether unbefitting the parties ; and it was not until the occurrence of some circumstances which violently excited the dowager- queen's jealousy, that an altercation took place between the royal step- mother and step- daughter which, fortunately for the honour of Eliza- beth, ended in an instant and final separation. 'I'he death of Catherine I'EiuoD.J THOMAS, LORD SEYMOUR. 549 in September, 1547, soon after this affair, led to a rumour that she was puisoiiecl by her husband, for which, however, tiiere is no evidence. Seymour, still bent on schemes of ambition, seems now to have hesi- tated in his matrimonial projects betwixt Lady Jane Grey, the eldest daughter of the marciiionijss of Dorset, who had been placed innne- diately after the two princesses in order of succession to the crown, and tiie princess Elizabeth herself. But as it was evident that the removal of iiis sister from the head of the administration must precede the accom- plishment of either of these ambitious designs, he engaged in a series of measures for forming a party against his brother among the leading nobility. He likewise opened a secret correspondence with the young king ; and such was his imprudence, that he began openly to l)oast of Ins superior inHuence and authority in the state. In tlie midst of his riattering anticipations, his plots were discovered, and himself, with his principal agents, committed to the tower. No overt act of treason could be proved against him; but, on the 27th of February, 1549, a bill of attainder was passed against him; his request to be heard in his own defence having first been refused. On the 17th of next month, the warrant for his execution was issued, with his brother's name at the head of the signatures to it, and three days thereafter lie was beheaded on Tower-hill. He met his fate with a courage approaching to ferocity. Bisliop Latimer says he " died very dangerously, irksomely, horribly ; so that his end was suitable to his life, wliich was very mean, profane, and irreligous." It is difficult at this distance of time to calculate what might have been the consequence had this ambitious and restless nobleman been allowed to prosecute his designs. That Elizabeth evinced an attachment to Seymour has been pretty clearly established, although she is said to have refused permission to the admiral to visit her after the death of his wife. A gentleman of the name of Harrington, who had been in Seymour's ser- vice, was subsequently taken by Elizabeth into her own household, and highly favoured ; and with so much security did this person reckon on the princess's tenderness for the memory of Seymour that he ventured, several years after her accession to the throne, to present her with a portrait of him, under which was inscribed the following sonnet : — " Of person rare, strong limbs, and manly shape, By nature framed to serve on sea or land ; In friendship firm, in good state or ill-hap; In peace, head wise; in war, skill great, bold hand; On horse or foot, in peril or in plaj'. None could excel, thougli many did essay ; A subject true to king, a servant great, Friend to God's truth, a foe to Rome's deceit; Sumptuous abroad, for honour of the land ; Temp'rate at home, yet kept great state with stay. And noble house, that fed more mouths with meat Than some advanced on higher steps to stand. Yet, against nature, reason, and just laws, His blood was spilt, guiltless, without Just cause." 550 POLITICAL SERIES. (TouRtn BORN A. D. 1537 DIED A. D. 1553. Edward was only nine years old when proclaimed king of England, in 1547, and he died in the seventh year of his reign, his government svas therefore, to all practical purposes, a regency, and it is to the me- moirs of the protector, Somerset, and his successor, Northumberland, that we must look for the political features of this period of English history. Edward's character, as far as it was developed, was a pleasing one ; and until the appearance of that disease which soon indicated it,-lf. Lady Jane's attachment to tlie reformed faith was early evinced in the correspondence wliich she maintained with some of the most emi- nent reformers on the continent. There are still extant several Latin epistles from her to Henry Bullonger, which, it is certain, were all written before her marriage. Her tirst appearance in public, was in her mother's train on the occasion of tlie visit of Mary, the dowagcr- quecn of Scotland, to the court at Greenwich Sliortly afterwards slie became the guest of the princess Mary, wliv)m she unconsciously offended by the freedom of some of her remarks on Catholic cere- monies and tenets. About the end of May 1553, Lady Jane was married to Lord Guildford Dudley, fourth son of the duke of Nor- thumberland. Her ambitious father-in-law now prevailed on Edward to make a new settlement of the throne in favour of the house of Suf- folk. The grounds on which this alteration was effected, were ex- tremely plausible. The title of Edward himself was left intact ; but the hereditary right of succession in Mary and Elizabeth was taken away by simply revising the statutes which had declared Henry's first and second marriage void. After Elizabeth, Henry had placed the descendants of Mary, queen of France, passing over her eldest sister Margaret. Mary of France, by her second marriage with Charles Brandon, duke of Suffolk, had two daughters. Lady Frances, who married Henry Grey, manjuis of Dorset, after- wards created duke of Suffolk, and Lady Eleanor, who wedded Henry Cliflbrd, earl of Cumberland. Henry afterwards settled the crown Dy his will on the heirs of those two ladies successively, failing his own children. Taking advantage of these circumstances, and of Edward's ardent attachment to the principles of the Reformation, Northumberland alternately wrought upon the young prince's fears and hopes by reminding him that it was a duty which he owed not less to his God than to his country to make provision for the main- tenance and security of the Protestant religion after his death, and, at tlu; same time, enlarging upon Mary's zealous attachment to the Ca- tholic faith, and the little security there was even for Elizabeth's ad- herence to the principles of Protestantism. To the powerful house of Suffolk alone, he argued, could the securities of the Protestant faith be safely intrusted at this crisis, and in the person of Lady Jane Grey was that union of principles and of rights to be found, which pointed her out as the fit successor of a Protestant monarch upon the throne of England. Northumberland's insidious reasonings prevailed with tlu; mild and timid prince; and on the 9th of July, 1553, he communicated to his daugliter-in-law the tidings of Edward's death, and of her own ele- vation to the throne. Though not wholly unprepared for the intelligence, we are told that she fainted at the announcement, and at first resolutely refused the proffered dignity. Afterwards, describing the transaction in a letter to Mary, she says : — " As soon as I had, with infinite pain to m.y I. 4 a mind, understood these things, how much I remained beside my- self, stunned and agitated, I leave to these lords to testify who saw me fall to the ground, and who know how grievously I wept." Heylyn in- forms us that " Northumberland's speech being ended, the poor lady found herself in great perplexity, not knowing whether she would more lament the death of the king, or her adoption to the kingdom ; the first loss not to be repaired : the next case possible to be avoided. She looked upon the crown as a great temptation, to resist which she stood in need of all the helps which both philosophy and divinity could suo-o-est unto her. And she knew also that such fortunes seldom knock- ed twice tor entrance at the same man's gate ; but that if once refused, they are gone for ever. Taking some time, therefore, for deliberation, she summoned a council of her purest thoughts, by whose advice, half drowned in tears, (either as in sorrow for the king's death, or foresee- ing her own,) she returned an answer in these words, or to this effect : ' That the laws of the kingdom, and natural right standing for the king's sister, she would beware of burthening her weak conscience wit!i a yoke which did belong to them ; that she understood the infamy ot those who had permitted the violation of right to gain a sceptre ; that it were to mock God and deride justice ; to scruple at the stealing of a shilling, and not at the usurpation of a crown.' ' Besides,' said she, ' I am not so young, nor so little read in the guiles of fortune, as to suffer myself to be taken by them. If she enrich any, it is but to make them the subjects of her spoil ; if she raise others, it is but to pleasure herself with their ruins. What she adored but yesterday, to- day is her pastime. And if I now permit her to adorn and crown me, I must to-morrow suffer her to crush and tear me to pieces. Nay, with Avhat crown doth she present me? A crown which hath been violently and shamefully wrested from Catharine of Arragon, made more unfortunate by the punishment of Ann Bulloign and others, that wore it after her. And why then would you have me add my blood to theirs, and be the third victim from whom this fatal crown may be ravished with the head that wears it ? But in case it should not prove fatal to me, and that all its venom were consumed ; if fortune should give me warranties of her constancy ; should I be well advised to take upon me these thorns, which would dilacerate, though not kill me out- right ; to burthen myself with a crown which would not fail to torment me, though I were assured not to be strangled with it? My liberty is better than the chain you proffer me, with what precious stones soever it be adorned, or of what gold soever framed. I will not exchange my peace for honourable and precious jealousies, for magnificent and glo- rious fetters. And if you love me sincerely, and in good earnest, yoi' will rather wish me a secure and quiet fortune, though mean, than an exalted condition exposed to the wind, and followed by some dismal fall.' " But the ambition of relatives would not allow her to follow the prndent counsel of her own thoughts and feelings in this matter. Her husband was prevailed on to " add the accents of love to the wiles of ambition ;" and beyond this female fortitude could not be expected to go On the same day Jane was proclaimed at London, and Mary at Norwich, and both simultaneously issued their commands to the lord- lieutenants and sheriffs of counties, to march the power of the natiou to their respective standards. The result is well known. Northum- Pkiuod.J lady jane GREY. 555 Ijcrland's supinencss allow(>d Mary's friends to assemble in preponder- ating^ numbers, and tliis tact was no sooiut understood than it turned the balance in Mary's favour, for the great mass of the pubUe, inekid- ing tlie citizens of London, stood ah)of at first from both jiarties, wait- ing until it should become ap])areiit which party was likely to prove victorious in the approaching struggle. The first person who acquaint- ed Lady Jane with the fatal turn of events, was her own father, who, entering her apartment, told her that her cause was lost, and that she must now divest herself of her royal robes, and be contented to return to a private station. She received the announcement with composure, and meekly replied : — " I better brook this message than my f(jrmer advancement to royalty ; out Oi obedience to you and my mother I have grievously sinned, and offered violence to myself. Now I do willingly, and as obeying the motions of my soul, relinquish the crown, and endeavour to salve those faults committed by others, if at least so great a fault can be salved, by a relin{]uishnient and ingenuous acknow- ledgment of them." Soon after Mary's coronation, measures were adopted for the arraignment of Lady Jane and her husband, together with Lord Ambrose Dudley, and Lord Henry Dudley, her brothers- in-law ; and on the 3d of November their trial commenced. All were convicted of high treason, and sentence of death was pronounced on each of them. If Mary ever entertained purposes of mercy towarcli the hapless couple, Wyatt's ill-concerted rebellion sealed their fate. On the 8th of February, 1534, Mary signed a warrant for the execu- tion of " Guildford Dudley and his wife," as the illustrious pair were uncourteously designated. Feckenham, the queen's confessor, was sent to announce to Lady Jane the awful tidings, that she must prepare her- self to die on the following day. That priest betrayed great solicitude to induce the unfortunate lady to renoujice her religion, and even ob- tained a reprieve of three days for her, to afford him an opportunity ot fully discussing the articles of her faith with her. Different accounts have been given of the abbot's conduct in this matter, some represent- ing him as evincing an affectionate but respectful solicitude for what he conceived to be the spiritual interests of the youthful prisoner ; and others, as pushing his zeal for her conversion to the verge of brutality and rudeness. All accounts, however, agree in representing Lady Jane as adhering with the constancy and calmness of a martyr at the stake to her religious principles. The last evening of her life was spent by her in fervent devotion, with an interruption of two hours, occa- sioned by the arrival of two bishops and some other Catholic priests, who, even at this late moment, intruded their services upon her in the hopes of effecting her conversion. She bore their intrusion with meek- ness, but remained unmoved by their arguments. On the same even- ing, she wrote a Greek letter to her sister. Lady Catharine, on a blank leaf in her Greek Testament, and, next morning. Lord Guildford solicit- ed and obtained the queen's consent to an interview with his wife ; but Lady Jane declined to see him, afraid lest their part'ng scene should overcome the fortitude of both, and dispossess tlieir minds of that firmness which was now more than ever necessary to bear them through their last moments with dignity and composure. She reminded him by message, that their separation would be but for a moment, and thai they would soon rejoin each other iu a scene where neither disappoiur- 556 POLITICAL SERIES. [Foukth ment nor suffering could ever interrupt their eternal felicity. It had been originally intended that the hapless pair should suffer together on Tower-hill, but the council, wisely dreading the effect which such an exhibition might have on the populace, changed their orders, and de- termined that Lord Guildford only should be executed on that spot, and that Lady Jane should suffer within the precincts of the tower. Dudley met his fate with consiilerable dignity and fortitude. The sheriffs then announced to Lady Jane that they were readj^ to attend her to the scaffold. She was conducted to the place of execution by Sir John Brydges, the lieutenant of the tower. On reaching the scat- fold, she mounted it without hesitation, and addressed the specta- tors in a short speech, in which she admitted her crime against the queen, but declared that in what she had done, she had only consented to the thing which she was enforced unto by the persuasion of others ; she then confessed herself a sinner, and declared that she hoped for salvat'ion only through the mercy of God in the merits of the blood of his Son Jesus Christ, and concluded her speech by requesting the spectators to assist her with their prayers. She tlien knelt down, and repeated the " Miserere mei Deus," after which, she arose and pre- pared herself for the axe. Having arranged her dress, and had her eyes bandaged, she was guided to the block, on which she laid her head, exclaiming, " Lord, into thy hands I commend my spirit I" and at one blow the executioner separated her head from her body. BORN A. D. 1316. DIED A. D. 1558. This princess, the daughter of Henry VIH. and Catharine of Arra- gon, was born in 1516. In 1518, she was betrothed to the dauphin of France, and Tournay, a French town conquered by her father, assigned as her dowry. In 1521, however, she was engaged to the emperor, Charles V. ; and again — so variable was the face of politics and the disposition of the English king — it was agreed, by a treaty of 1527, that she should be married either to Francis, the French monarch, or to the duke of Orleans, his son. But in the fate of Catharine that of her daughter was involved, and shortly after Henry's marriage with Anne Boleyn, and the birth of his second daughter Elizabeth, parlia- ment, declaring the previous marriage with Catharine null, transferred from her issue the right of succession to the throne. Mary, however, was soon to have a partner in this loss of hereditary rank — her sister Elizabeth herself; for in 1536, after the execution of Anne Boleyn. Henry's issue both by her and by Catharine were pronounced illegiti- ^ mate. Yet — for such are the changing features and contending destinies of life where its fortunes depend on the lordly caprice of tyrants and ihe shifting character of courts — it seems that the fall of Anne, involv- ing the degradation of Elizabeth, opened a way for Mary's restoration to favour with the king. This — from which, it is said, she had been previously excluded on account of her popish sentiments — was granted by her imperious and dogmatic father, on her acknowl pdging, after con- siderable resistance, the supremacy of the king, the correctness of hia Period.] MARY I. 557 theological opinions, and tho illogitimacy of liis niarriago with her own niothor Catharine. In 1544, alter tlu; birth of Prince; Edwaril, she antl Elizabeth were placed immediately after tlie king's male issue in the order of succession to the crown. Mary has been said to have been educated under the care of the un- fortunate countess of Salisbury, along with her son, the celebrateil Car- dinal Pole, between wliom and Mary a tender attachment is alleged to have been formed. However this may be, the tenor of Mary's life bears witness to her firm, and perhaps it is but fair to say, her sincere adiierence to the Romish faith. The degree in winch her character was formed by her religious faith, and that in which her faith was de- termined by the native constitution of her mind, it may not be easy to discover. But there is not wanting a certain air of dignity — sadly prostituted, yet not, perhaps, unfit to relieve the darker annals of her reign — in the p.art she took in reference to religion under the short administration of her brother Edward VI. Zealous as Mary was about religion, however, she is represented as paying an undue regard to dress, and if she loved splendour in the service of the church, she showed an attachment to it also as an ornament to her own person. In July, 1553, while on her way to visit the king in his sickness, she first received information, from the earl of Arundel, both of Edward's death and of the plot against her own succession. On this she proposed to make her escape to Flanders, should she find herself unable to suppori; her right, but took measures to have herself proclaimed, and called for assistance to her cause. The result of the brief struggle which ensued has been already detailed. One may feel inclined to reflect, while acknowledging the legitimacy of Mary's claim, how different a reign from hers might have been that of the pious and accomplished Lady Jane, had Providence, instead of removing her from the rude ele- ments of political life, permitted her to occupy the English throne. Yet after all, a man like Northumberland might have stained the work which Gardiner and Bonner sought to overthrow, and lessons of human weakness and intolerance, precious truly, though, in this case, fearfully enforced, might have been less deeply graven for posterity to learn. The Protestant cause, considerably forwarded under Edward by Cranmer and other influential agents in the work of religious reformation, became an object of attack at the very outset of his sister's reign. Bonner, Gardiner, Turistal, and others were restored to their bishoprics, — silence was imposed on all preachers ex- cept those who should receive a license, — several Protestant prelates were imprisoned, — contrary to law, masses were revived by clergymen attached to the Romish faith, — revenge was taken on the very bones of foreign Protestants, — many adherents of that now endangered cause de- parted from the country, — and the very firsi of Mary's parliaments, which met on the 3th of October, was opened with a mass, and besides declaring legitimate Henry's marriage with Catharine, repealed the statutes respecting religion passed in Edward's reign. This very par- liament, however, was represented by Gardiner, who was now chan- cellor, as not, by any means, inclined to restore, in all respects, the state of things which Mary, as a Roman Catholic, may have desired, and they even appointed a committee to expostulate with the queen against marrying, as she now proposed to do, Philip, the son of Charles 5oS POLITICAL SERIES. TFockth V. Articles of marriage;, however, were prepared, which, on the whole, failed to satisfy the people, although it was proposed that tiie royal power was to be vested wholly in the queen. Against this match a declaration was published by Sir Thomas Wyatt, and he, the earl of Suffolk, Sir Peter Carew, and Sir George Harper were active in promoting a rebellion against the queen's authority. The insurrections were subdued ; but although Mary granted pardon to four hundred of the rioters who were brought before her with ropes around their necks, this disturbance led to the execution of an immense number of persons, including Lady Jane Grey. Of Elizabeth too, towards whom the queen had behaved unkindly, she now appeared to be suspicious, and that princess was first sent to the tower, and then superintended in various residences by persons appointed by the court. On the 5th of April, 1554, another parliament assembled They confirmed the arti- cles of marriage, but carefully set aside the claim of the Spanish prince to any legal authority in England, besides omitting to pass certain bills directed against the Protestant faith. On the 19th of July, after fears and anxious wishes on the part of Mary, who, cruel as are the transactions of her reign, appears to have been very liable to the excitement of the tender passion, Philip, her intended husband, reached Southampton. On the 27tli, they were married by Bishop Gardiner, at Winchester, and the ceremony was followed by a public entry into London. Towards Philip, though ap- parently he was by no means popular during his residence in Eng- land, the queen seems to have entertained feelings of somewhat roman- tic tenderness. Parliament, however, declined agreeing to her proposal, that her husband should be crowned, although they made it treasonable to attempt his death, and although she gained another point by their agreeing on the representation of her favourite Cardinal Pole, who had come over as a legate from the pope, to renew the comiection of Eng- land with the papal see, and reviving laws against heresy. Nor did these laws remain a dead letter ; they were executed, at the insti- gation of Gardiner, and contrary to the milder views or feelings of Cardinal Pole, with terrible severity. It is reckoned that, during three years in the course of this bloody work, carried on by Gardiner and his associate Bonner — a name justly infamous for brutal cruelty — 277 suffered at the stake, besides other punishments for imputed heresy. Mary also aimed at the restoration of the ecclesiastical prope'rty of which the church had been deprived ; a proposal for which was made by the pope, and on the suggestion in the council that by such a mea- sure the crown would be a loser, she answered, that she preferred the saving of her soul to the possessing ten such realms as England. After great opposition in the house of connnons, her object vas enforced by act of parliament towards the end of 1555. She proceeded to make heavy impositions on her subjects to supply her husband Philip, who had gone to his father the emperor, and who seems to have lost, if he ever possessed, attachment to his consort. In spite of his solicitations, Mary declined to continue an attempt to induce her sister Elizabeth to many the duke of Savoy; but in March, 155(>, another act of perse- cution occurred in the death of Cranmer, on which occasion he crown- ed with an honourable repentance, and a faithful martyrdom, his ser- vices to tlie English reformation. Pole succeeded him as archbishop l'i:i{i.)i..J Sm THOMAS WYA'IT, THE YOUNGKR. 5J3 of Canterbury, hut he and others of her counsellors opposed the queen's attempt to c-ugago iMifilaiid in a war betwixt France and ISpain, an ob- ject at which both Philip and Mary aimed. The (pieen, however, was able to raise an anny of 10,000 nuMi, whieli was sint to assist in a war wliich, in 1558, deprived the Eii!;;lish of Cahiis. In 1554, IMary had entertained an idea of soon having an heir, and the circumstance was intimated to foreign courts, and occasioned great joy. Her hopes, however, proved fallacious, and the sujiposed preg- nancy is represented as having been the coniuKMicenient of a dropsy. At last a combination of melancholy circumstances occurred. The country was discontented, Philip was alienated, and the loss of Calais preyed on the mind of Mary. " When I die," said she, " Calais will be found at my heart." After a course of gloom and peevishness, ter- minating a life, deformed by many tlireful acts, though, by an associa- tion monstrous if not rare, connected with the holy name of religion, she died on the 17th of November, 1558, the same day that her coun- sellor, Cardinal Pole, expired, in tlie sixth year of her reign, and forty- fourth of her ay;e. DIED A. D. 1554. Sir Thomas Wyatt, son of the poet, wit, and courtier of thai name, at first distinguished himself by his adherence to Queen Mary's cause. Though allied in blood to the Dudleys, he had stood aloof from Northumberland's insurrection, and before the issue of that ill- planned struggle could be known, had proclaimed Mary at Maidstone.' The projected alliance with Mary to Philip of Spain first shook his allegiance ; he had been employed in several embassies to Spain, and his knowledge of the principles of that court was such as to determine him against any such intimate alliance betwixt the two countries as was now projected. Preferring patriotism to loyalty, he chose to risk his royal mistress's favour rather than see the interests of his country trifled with to gratify a woman's passion. In the plan of revolt resolv- ed on — in which, if not the author, he took the leading pai-t — it wjis agreed that Wyatt should raise the standard of revolt in Kent ; Sir Peter Carew was the leader in the west ; and the duke of Suffolk un- dertook to raise the midland counties. The premature discovery of their designs disconcerted their plan of co-operation. Carew fled to France ; and Suffolk made an unsuccessful attempt to excite his tenant? in Warwickshire ; but Sir Thomas having established his head-quarters at Rochester, was joined by a considerable number of Kentish men. The duke of Norfolk hastened to quell the rebels, but the London trained bands, under Brete, who composed a principal i)art of Nort(,)lk's force, but were chiefly Protestants, and therefore not very hearty in the queen's cause, fell back from their post, or rather went over to Wyatt, in the very outset of the engagement, shouting tUoud, "We are all Englishmen I" and Norfolk was left nearly alone to shift fo.- hiin- • (.arts. 5 GO POLITICAL SERIES. [Fourth self. The court opened an ineffectual negotiation with Wyatt, now advancing upon London at the head of 15,000 men ; and Elizabeth being suspected of encouraging the rebels, was ordered to repair in- stantly to London. On the 2d of February, 1554, Wyatt appeared at Deptford, but instead of pushing on to London, imprudently halted a day there, thus affording Mary's partisans time to rally around her. Defeated in an attempt to force London bridge, he retired to Kingston, and crossing the river at that place without resistance, arrived at Hyde Park corner on the 7th. Gardiner now entreated the queen to throw herself into the tower ; but she would not listen to the proposal, and employed herself in encourag- ing her troops to stand their ground against the approaching foe. At Charing-cross a fierce conflict ensued, in which Wyatt, rashly advanc- ing too far at the head of a small party, was surrounded and made prisoner after a most heroic resistance. It was immediately given out that Wyatt had made a full discovery of his accomplices, and had named the princess Elizabeth amongst them. It was said that she had received from Wyatt the whole scheme of his plot in a bracelet which he had caused to be conveyed to her ; and she was accordingly sent for in haste to Hampton court. Nearly a month appears to have been employed in endeavouring to get Wyatt to inculpate the princess, who was meanwhile detained in the tower as a state-prisoner. Elizabeth was loud and vehement in her protestations of ignorance, and solemnly denied that she ever had held correspondence with ' that traitor Wyatt.' But the ' traitor' was as little disposed to accuse the princess as her best friends could be ; and when the attorney-general endeavoured to insinuate that Elizabeth had been induced to countenance the rebellion, Wyatt indignantly denied the imputation. Nor did Mary's agents suc- ceed more to their wishes with any of the minor conspirators, none of whom could, by any threats or promises, be made to criminate the princess. This brave youth was beheaded on the 11th of April, and spent his last breath in asserting Elizabeth's innocence of any participa- tion in his plans. 3o!jn 3UusscII, d^nvl of Bttrfnrti, DIED A. D. 1355. JoHM Russell, first earl of Bedford, \vas the eldest son of James Russell of Kingston in the county of Dorset, an estate which had been for nearly four centuries in the family. Having been accidentally in- troduced to Philip, archduke of Austria, at the house of Sir Thomas Trenchard, that prince was so much pleased with his manners and ap- pearance, that he took him to Windsor in his retinue and recommended him strongly to Henry VII., who appointed him one of the gentlemen of his privy chamber. It has been doubted, however, how far the Spaniard's visit to Henry on this occasion was an act of spontaneous courtesy. He had been shipwrecked at Weymouth, and though hos- pitably entertained at the mansion of Sir Thomas Trenchard, may have been regarded by his host as a prisoner rather than a guesi. In con- formity with this view of the matter, Russell has been represented ua Peuioi).] JOHN liUSSELL, EARL OF BEDFORD. 561 having accoinpanied the archdukt; to court in the capacity of a sentinel, placod over liim to obscrvi; his motions and preclude tlie jjossibility of ids maiving his escape. Whetlier or not this latter view be correct, it is certain tliat young Russell owed his tirst introduction at court to the cireunistance of the archduke's appearance tliere, and that he soon became a favourite and honoured courtier. On tiie accession of" Henry VIIJ Russell was honoured with an in- creased share of royal j)atronage. Ilis polished manners, his gracef'ui appearance, his accpiaintance witli foreign languages, and various other advantagi s which lie had gaiiu'd during some years of foreign travel, all conspired to recommend him to the good graces of a monarch Ibnd of show and gallantry. In 1513, he accompanied the king to France, and during the siege of Therouenne, performed an act of singular bravery, having at the head of only 250 men retaken a j)icce of ord- nance from a large body of the enem^'. Soon after this exploit, he succeeded in cutting off a large sujjply of provisions which the French were endeavouring to introduce into the town. On this occasion Henry advanced to meet him on his return towards the camp, and the follow- ing dialogue took place : " So," cried the king, " while we are fooling, the town is relieved !" " So it is, indeed," answered Russell, " for 1 have sent them two thousand carcasses, and they have spared us twelve hun- dred waggons of provisions." " But 1 sent after you," replied the king, " to cut off the bridge." " That" rt^oined Russell, " was the first thing 1 did, wherefore I am upon my knees for your majt^sty's grace and pardon." " Nay then," exclaimed Henry, " by our lady thou hast not my pardon only, but my favour too I" In 1522, Russell accompanied the naval expedition commanded by the earl of Surrey against France, and was knighted by that nobleman for his good service at the sacking of Morlaix. In 1523, he was sent on an embassy to Rome, whence he proceeded to the court of the duke of Bourbon, whom he prevailed on to join the alliance between Henry and the emperor. In 1525, he fought in the battle of Pavia. In March 1538, he was created Baron Russell of Cheneys in the county of Buckingham, an estate which he had acquired by his wife. He had already been appointed comptroller of the household, and mem- ber of the privy council. On the dissolution of the greater monasteries, his royal master heaped wealth upon him with a most bountiful hand : among other grants, he obtained the entire demesne of the rich abbey of Tavistock, comi)rising nearly thirty manors, with other large estates in Devon, Bucks, and Somerset. In 1541, he was constituted lord-ad- miral of England and Ireland ; and in 1543, the custody of tlie privy seal was committed to him. At the coronation of Edward VI., he executed the office of lord-high- steward of England, and soon after received a grant of the dissolved monastery of Woburn in Bedfordshire, which has been the chief resi- dence of the Bedford family ever since. His services against the insur- gents in the western counties, in 1549, procured for him the title of carl of Bedford, and removed hiin from the still more dangerous scene of intrigue then getting up against the protector. He did not long sur- vive the accession of Mary. His last public service was to escort Piiilip of Spain from Corunna to London, and introduce him to that princess. He died on the 14th of March, 1555. His character, if not I. 4 b 562 POLITICAL SERIES. [Fouetii romarkable for great qualities, remains free from the charge of greed crimes. A Burke once sought to wound an earl of Bedford through the founder of his family, but the censure was made in general term.i, and amounted to little more than the insinuation that the first earl of Bedford may not have deserved all the favours wliich successive sove- reigns were pleased to heap uj)on him. HORN CIRC. A. D. 1508. DIED A. D. \5o9. Sir Thomas Pope, the founder of Trinity college, Oxford, was born at Deddington, in Oxfordshire, about the year 1508. He wa^' educated at Banbury school, and subsequently at Eton college. Hav- ing adopted the profession of the law, he studied at Gray's inn, and, in October, 1533, received the appointment of clerk of the briefs in the star-chamber. Two years after, he was constituted warden of the mint ; and, in October, 1536, he received the honour of knighthood at the same time witli Henry Howard. In 1539, on the first establish- ment of the court of augmentations, Sir Thomas received the lucrative office of its treasurership. The business of this court was to make up val- uations of the lands belonging to the dissolved monasteries, to collect their revenues, and generally to apply the possessions of dissolved re- ligious establishments to the use and behoof of the crown. The trea- surer's office was a post of considerable profit and dignity, and the per- son holding it ranked with the principal officers of state. Sir Thomas held this last office for five years, and, on the formation of a new court of augmentation in 1546, he was nominated master of the crown forests on this side the Trent, and a member of the privy council. These successive appointments, especially those connected with the augmentation courts, brought in an inmiense revenue to Sir Thomas, and, in 1556, we find him possessed of no fewer than thirty manors, besides other estates and advowsous. During the reign (if Henry VHI. Sir Thomas continued high in favour at court ; but on the accession of Edward VI., his religious principles militated against him, and he received neither favour nor office. The succession of Mary again opened up the road of preferment and honour to him, and he was appointed a privy councillor and cofferer to the royal household. Dur- ing this reign we find his name associated with that of Bonner and others, in a commission for the more effectual suppression of heretics ; yet his behaviour towards the princess Elizabeth, who was placed under his care in 1555, was higlily courteous and creditable to his feelings as a man of honour and integrity. He died shortly after Elizabeth's ac- cession to tiie thi'one, in January, 1559, and was interred in the parish church of St Stephen's, Walbrook, where his second wife, Margaret, had been buried; but, in 1567, their bodies were lemoved to the chapel of Trinity college. It was at a period when the rage for polemic disputation had almost (ixpelled the study of clacsic literature from the schools, that Sir Thomas founded Trinity college in Oxford, and made it a particular ivgulation, tliat its inmates shouhl accjuire "a Just relish for the graces Pi'RiOD.] CARDINAL POLE. 5G3 and purity of tlic Latin tonj^uo." The authors rnjoinrd to be rca(i with this view, were Cicero, Quiiitilian, Auhis (Jcilius, Phuitus, Terence, Virgil, Horace, Livy, and Lucan. Cardinal Pole, at the re(iuest of the founder, revised the statutes of the new foundation. Carlriital ^oU- BOB.N A. V. loOO. — UUvD A. ». i3">8. This eminent ecclesiastical politician was born at Stoverton castle, Lancashire, in 1500. He was son of Sir Richard Pole, by the countess of Salisbury, who was daughter of the duke of Clarence, brother of Edward IV. He had for instructors those two celebrated men, William Latimer and Thomas Linacre, the former of whom wa.*; indebted to his pupil's influence for ecclesiastical preferment. Afler studying at Sheen, Pole was entered at Magdalene college, Oxford. In 1517, he became prebendary of Roscomb, in the church of Salisbury, and, about two years after, was promoted to the deanery of Exeter. In 1519, he set out for Italy, furnished for his travels by his relativ(!, Henry VIII., who also atiorded him an annual pension. After visiting several foreign universities, he took up his residence at Padua. Thence he proceeded to Venice and other parts of Italy. In 1525, he went to Rome, where he wished to witness the celebration of the jubilee, and, the same year, returned, by Florence, to England. Here he was well received, but, leaving court, retired to a Carthusian convent at Sheen, in Surrey. In 1529, Pole obtained permission again to go abroad. By means of him, during his stay on the continent, Henry sought to obtain the assent of the university of Paris to the invalidity of liis marriage with Catharine of Arragon. Pole declined the office ; but, in the course of a short time, again took up his residence at Sheen. His assent being desired to the question respecting the validity of the royal marriage being determined without reference to tiie papal court, and, it is said, the arch- bishopric of York being held out to him as an inducement, he went to confer w.th Henry on the subject, but, instead of assenting, as he had intended to do, expressed an opposite opinion. His conduct, in this matter gave offence to the king, but he was again i)ermitted to go abroad, and even continued to receive his pension. Leaving England, he proceeded to Avignon, and aflerwards to Padua, from which he oc- casionally went to Venice. At last, he expressed himself decidedly against the king's divorce from Catharine, and also against Henry's ec- clesiastical supremacy, in a work on ' Church Unity,' which was printed in 153G. In this book he compares Henry to Nebuchadnezzar, and calls on the emperor, Charles V. to avenge the cause of Catharine and the Romish church. " The book," says Bishop Burnet,' " was more considered for the author, and the wit and eloquence of it, than lor any great learning or deep reasoning in it. The indecencies of the expres- sions against the king, not to mention the scuirilous language he be- stows on Sampson, whose book he undertook lo answer, are such, that ' History of die llelbi iiKilioii, book iii. 5G4 POLITICAL SERIES. [Fouutu It ai)pears how much the Italian air had changed him, and that his con- verse at Padua had for some time defaced that generous temper ol mind which was otherwise so natural to him." The king, however, did not at once proceed to extremities against him, but asked him to come over to England and explain certain parts of his treatise. Pole, liowever, continued his residence abroad, where he seems to have gain- ed great distinction as a literary man, and was deprived of his ecclesi- astical offices at home. But the way to ruin in England was, in Italy, the course to dignity ;md power. Pole was summoned by the pope to attend a general council for the reformation of ecclesiastical abuses. He reached that city in 1336. His holiness offered to make him a cardinal. This lionour he declined ; but at length he was prevailed upon ; and, having received the clerical tonsure, was created cardinal of St Nereus and Achilleus. The pope also appointed him nuncio to France and Flan- ders. At Paris he did not continue long. On hearing that Henry had solicited the king of France to give him up, he went to Cambray, fr(mi whence he removed to Liege, and was thence recalled to Rome About this period of his life he seems to have been busily engaged in treasonable intercourse with England, and it has been supposed to have been with a view to exciting a rebellion there, that the pope sent him again to France and Flanders in 1538. In that year, a correspondence of the cardinal with his two brothers, Lord Montacute and Sir Geof- frey de la Pole, besides some other English gentlemen, was discovered, and brought several individuals to execution. His mother, the coun- tess of Salisbury, was soon to Ibllow. One of the accusations against her, was a correspondence with her son, the cardinal ; and, in May, 1539, this aged lady perished on the scaffold. In the year 1545, the pope summoned a council to the town oi Trent. To this Pole and two other cardinals were sent, as legates from his holiness. On this occasion, Pole wrote a book on councils, and proceeded to Tient, attended by an escort, it being apprehended that emissaries from the English king awaited him on the road. At length, however, in 1547, Henry died. On young Edward's accession, the cardinal sent an apology for himself, and recommended a reconci- liation of England to the pope. In 1549, on the death of his holiness, he himself was elected to the papal chair. He declined, however, to ac- cept, alleging that the election had been precipitately and unseasonably made. Whether his refusal arose from an unmingled sense; of honour and propriety, or whether it was not rather influenced bj' an anticipa- tion of attaining to the English throne, bj' means of a marriage with the princess Mary, it might be useless to inquire. By permission ol the new pope, Julius III., he retired to a montistery at Maguzano, where he remained until the death of Edward VI. At length, on the accession of the princess Mary to the English throne, the pope appointed the cardinal legate to his native country. It has been said that the new queen was educated along with Pole, under his mother, the countess of Salisbury, and even that an early at- tachment subsisted between the two. However this may be, a propo- sal seem;, to have been made about the time of her accession, that sjie should marry him ; and to a jealousj'^ on this subject the conduct of the emperor, Charles V., in detaining the legate in his dominions aftt^r Period.] CARDINAL POLE. 565 the latter had set out on his embassy to Enjfland, has been attributed. Ncj^otiatious had previously taken phace, for Mary's marriage with Philip, the emperor's son. It is possible, however, that, ;us a late ex- cellent historian remarks,* Charles " feared the opposition of Pol(! to the Spanish match, not only as an Englishman, but ;us jealous of Spanish greatness, and unwilling that his influence over Mary shoidd be shared with a husband of commanding character." On November 20th, 1554, the cardinal arrived at Dover. He found the act of attainder against him repealed, was received by the king and queen at Whitehall, and proceede(l to Lambeth, where the palace had been Htteil up for his use. On the 27th, he proposed to parliament, that they should en- ter into a reconciliation with the pope. For this both houses applied. Their petition was presented to the king and (|ueen. They, in their turn, interceded with the legate, who accordingly granted absolution. After this ceremony, the Te Deum wtxs sung. Two days tlu^reafter, Pole went publicly through London, but was not well received by the citizens. Previously to the cardinal's arrival in England, he and the emperor had disagreed in the counsel which they gave respecting the restoration of the Roman Catholic religion. Charles recommended the change to be gradually made, while Pole, like "a true son of the church," advised the immediate re-establishment of the old institution. Nor can it be said that the legate, after his arrival, was by any means utterly free from severity in carrying out his views. He issued commissions lor the prosecution of heretics, towards whom he testified an ortliodox dis- pleasure. His opposition seems to have extended to public documents as well as living heretics. The following somewhat curious proclama- tion is recorded in Bishop Burnet's preface to the History of the Re- formation : — " Whereas it has come to our knowledge that, in the time of the late schism, divers compts, books, scrolls, and instruments, and other writs, were practised, devised, and made, concerning professions against the pope's holiness, and the see apostolic ; and also sundry in- formal scrutinies taken in abbeys and other religious houses, tending rather to subvert and overthrow all good religion and religious houses than for any truth contained therein : which being in the custody of divers registers, and we intending to have those writings brought to knowledge, whereby they may be considered and ordered according to our will and pleasure," 'i 5QQ POLITICAL SERIES. [1<^ouuti. tlie cardinal, when, in 1557, Paul IV., who had a prejudice against iiim, witluli-ew his authority as legate, and appointed Cardinal Peyto in his room. Her majesty interfered in the matter, and, ultimately, Pole was reinstated in the office. Yet he did not uniformly support the measures of the queen. When, shortly before the end of her life, she sought the prosecution of war between France and Spain, he set himself against the scheme. Both were soon to leave the political scene on which they had acted so prominent a part. The queen expired, November 17th, 1558, and the cardinal, who had long been sickly, on the same day or that im- mediately succeeding. His body lay in state at Lambeth, and was thence conveyed to Canterbury. On his monument was inscribed this short and simple epitaph : — Deposltum Cardinalis Pnli BORN A. D. 1533 DIKD A. U. 1603. This celebrated princess was daughter of Henry VHI. and Anne Boleyn, his queen, and was born at the palace of Greenwich, 7th Sep- tember, 1533. The infant was created princess of Wales, and \wt baptism was attended by a host of noble personages : Cranmer, arch- bishop of Canterbury, at the request of the king, standing godfather to the child. In 1535, Henry negotiated with the king of France respect- ing a marriage between young Elizabeth and the duke of Angouleme, the third son of that monarch ; but the pope declined to rescind \\U predecessor's sentence against Henry for his divorce with Catharine, and the matrimonial scheme was frustrated. By the execution of Anne, in the following year, Elizabeth was deprived of her mother. The loss, however, she was too young perhaps adequately to understand, nor, probably, was Anne — whether innocent or not of the charge which brought her to the scaffold — particularly fitted to advance the im- provement of her child. The wants of the daughter seem to have been negl(!cted amidst the greater misfortunes of the mother, and Elizabeth's governess. Lady Bryan, in a letter supposed to have been written soon after the death of the latter, asks of Cromwell, Henry's minister, a sup- ply of clothing for her royal Ciiarge. But this little domestic misfor- tune was no( the limit of Elizabeth's early losses. In the parliament which met a few weeks after her mother's (leath, she, as well as her sister Mary, was pronounced illegitimate, and her riglit of succession to the throne annulled. This privilege, however, was restored by act of par- liament in 1544, and, on the death of James V. of Scotland, the king, according to the manner of the time, and of the English court when under the wayward rule of Henry, wlio, if, in his own case, he accom- modated politics to wedlock, seems, in that of his children, to have made marriage subservient to the safety of his throne and the aggrandise- ment of his kingdom — besides ott'ering his young son, Edward, in mar- riage to James's infant daughter, Mary, had proposed Elizabeth to the earl of Arran, regent of Scotland, for himself or for his son, it seems uncertain which. In 1546, however, proposals were made for a union betwixt her and Philip of Spain, who was attt.Twards married to runron.] KLIZAP.ETII. 5G7 lier elder sister, Mary. Meanwliile, under tht^ care of William (Jriu- dal, and then of the celcbrat(>d llot^er Asciiani, the princess had been proooeding in her literary studies ; and, in l.'i.'iO, tlie latter, in an epistle to Sturmius, describes her, at the a<;e of sixteen, as of solid intellect, courteous manners, retentive memory, and warm attachment to religion and learning, — as excelling in French, Italian, music, and pemnansliip, — uid as having read with him most of Cicero, and a large portion of Livy, as well as plays of Sophocles, speeches of Isocrates, and the Greek New Testament.' The death of Edward VI., in July, 1553, deprived Elizabeth of a brother possessed of literary attainments and religious principles kindred to her own, by whose mother she seems to have been kindly treated, and betwixt whom and Elizabeth there subsisted a mutual attachment. Ed- ward, however, was induced, before his death, to settle the succession to the throne on his cousin, Lady Jane Grey. On his demise, accord- ingly. Lady Jane was proclaimed, and messengers from the earl of Northumberland, the prominent agent in that fatal stc^p, sought to in- duce Elizabeth to resign her claim. She replied, that the first person to be settled with on the subject was Mary ; and, having put herself at the head of a thousand horse, she proceeded to meet her sister on her way to London, and accompanied her on her public entry into the me- tropolis. But, in her connection with Mary's court, Elizabeth's lot was to prove unfortunate : owing, it appears, in part at least, to a prefer- ence shown by Courtney — whom the queen, on her accession, released from imprisonment, and towards whom she seems to have felt a tender attachment — for the younger princess. The marriage of Henry VIII. and Catharine of Arragon, the mother of the queen, having been con- firmed as valid by the parliament which met at the beginning of Mary's rcJgn, the daughter of Anne Boleyn ranked, at court, after the coun- tess of Lennox and the duchess of Suffolk, and she soon retired from the scene of her degradation to Ashridge, in Buckinghamshire, where Sir Thomas Pope and Sir John Gage were appointed to attend her. But, on occasion of Wyatt's insurrection at the beginning of 1554, Mary recalled her to court, under pretext of care for Elizabeth's safety. This summons the sickness of the latter, feigned or real, withheld her from obeying. But, a report arising of the princess being an accom- plice of Wyatt, in his rebellious attempt, a deputation from court hur- ried her away from Ashridge. She was borne on a litter, and on the way received public expressions of regard. After being examined by the privy-council, before whom she declared herself innocent, she return- ed to her country residence. The report of her connection with the re- bellion, however, was renewed, and, although she wrote the queen a let- ter on the subject, and continued to declare her innocence, she was com- mitted to the tower. On going out of the barge which bore her to the place of her confinement, she said, " Here landeth as true a subject, being a prisoner, as ever landed at these stairs ; and before thee, O God ! I speak it, having no other friends but thee alone." Wyatt, at his execution, pronounced her innocent of concern in his attempt ; and, alter having been kept in close confinement for a month, she was 1 .'Vscham has remarked the circumstance of Elizabeth having been educated ac- cording to his favourite method of Double Translations. 5G8 POLITICAL SERIES. rFouRXii conv eyed at last from the tower to the palace of Richmond. She had been intrusted to the care of Sir Henry Beddingneld. His behaviour was rough, and the princess— who seems to have been greatly moved by her present circumstances— was still treated as a prisoner. Mary offered her deliverance if she would agree to marry the duke of Savoy —a proposal which Elizabeth declined. She was now conveyed to Oxfordshire, and, on the third day, after receiving expressions of popu- lar regard on the journey, reached Ricot, the residence of Lord Williams. Here she was hospitably received ; but she was soon re- moved to Woodstock, where Beddingfield continued to attend her. Early, however, in 1555, Elizabeth, who had gained the personal or political favour of Philip, now the husband of the queen, came, attend- ed by Beddingfield, to Hampton-court. Bishop Gardiner advised her to make submission to Mary ; but she rejected the proposal, declaring that she appealed to the laws of the country, not to the clemency of the queen. At an interview, however, between the royal sisters, Mary put a ring on the finger of Elizabeth, and it has been said that the latter requested the queen to give her some treatises to peruse in favour of the Roman Catholic faith. Whether or not she entered at this time on the study of the questions at issue between the two churches, it appears that, this year, attended by her former tutor, Roo-er Ascham, she occupied herself with classical pursuits. Sir Thomas Pope, to whom the princess was intrusted about this time, was a mild and indulgent man. With him, as her superin- tendent, she resided at different houses in succession, and finally settled at Hatfield, Herts. Part of his duty was to take care that mass was performed in Elizabeth's establishment; and it appears that, in September, 1555, she joined Mary and the court, in preparing, by a fast, for a public act of forgiveness on the part of the pope. Mary even wrote to her sister in terms of kindness, and declined, notwith- standino- the desire of Philip, who was now abroad, to enforce on her a marriage with the duke of Savoy. In the spring of 1557, the queen visited Elizabeth at Hatfield ; in the summer of the same year, the latter paid her royal sister a visit, which was accompanied with much magni- ficence, at Richmond ; and when, about this time, Elizabeth refused proposals to marry Eric, son of the king of Sweden, Mary expressed satisfaction at her conduct. On the 17th of November, 1558, the queen died, and Elizabeth was called to the English throne. On hearing of her accession, she fell upon her knees, and uttered these words from the book of Psalms : " A Domino factum est illud, et est mirabile oculis nostris." On the 20th, she held a privy-council at Hatfield, and chose Sir William Cecil as her principal secretary. Sir Thomas Parry comptroller of the household, and Sir Edward Rogers captain of the guard.- Parry had long been her cofferer, and Cecil, afterwards Lord Burleigh — a name so eminent in the history of her reign — had corresponded with her in the course of her misfortunes. On the 23d, she proceeded towards London, and from the Charterhouse, where she fixed her residence, went on horseback, amidst the shouts of her subjects, to the Tower, where she fell on her knees, and rendered thanks to the Almighty, antl Ca'Tiiltsi. Pkuiot).] ELIZABETH. 569 whit her, in procession from tho palaco of Westminster, she again went, on the 1 2th of January, 1550. Two days thereafter, she proceeded, with a hvrj^(> attcnthiiiee, through London, seated in a chariot; and, next day — altiiough tlio prehites had refused to ))erforni the service of the coronation for the heretical princess — that c(;remoiiy was j)erformed hy the bishop of Carlisle. She was welcomed in the city with great public preparations ; and, though popular joy is no infallible sign of cordial attachment to the individual in \\hose cause it is excited, there was much in Elizabeth's character that may have inspired hopes of an effectual revival of England from the melancholy contlition into which, under her predecessor, it had sunk. With Sir William Cecil, who was a decided supporter of the reformed religion, the queen took counsel on the subject, at the beginning of her reign. Before her coronation, she gave directions for a great part of the chnrch-service to be read in English, and also prohibited, in her own chapel — to the practice of which the churches had been ordered to conform — the elevation of the host. In the course of her procession through the city, when an English Bible was presented to her, she pressed it to her lips and bosom, and for that present returned the city especial thanks. Her future conduct, as sovereign, corresponded to these early expressions of her favour for the Protestant i-eligion ; but — as is little wonderful, considering her parentage and early life — certain preferences for particular Roman Catholic observances appear to have clung to this patroness of the English reformation. She disliked the marriage of priests and the free exercise of preaching, and was fond of altars, crucifixes, and clerical vestments. From early prejudice, per- naps, or from a wish to avoid unnecessary opposition to the Roman Catholic party in the state, notwithstanding the generally favourable disposition of the nation towards a revival of the Protestant articles and worship, when, on the day after the coronation, several courtiers besought that, besides the other prisoners released in honour of the new reign, the four evangelists and St Paul might also be freed from their captivity, she gravely answered that they should be consulted in the first place whether or not they were willing so to be released. Parliament, which met in this same month, confirmed the right of Elizabeth to the crown, and, by a deputation from the house of commons, she was advised to marry. She replied, that she had for- merly resisted, on that subject, the temptations both of ambition and of danger, and that she still preferred a single to a married life ; that, as the recommendation was general, and did not suggest any particular person for her husband, she was not offended at the interference ; but that for the commons to have proposed a person for her to make choice of, would have been unbefitting their character as subjects, and hers as an independent queen ; that England was her husband, and the people were her children.^ This last idea, indeed, seems to have been a favourite one with Elizabeth — for she is said to have frequently re- marked, that she would not believe respecting her subjects, what parents would not credit respecting their children. But if she felt the attach- ment, she also exercised the discipline of the parental character, and on this occasion she evinced that combination of regard to her own pre- 'Jomnal of Cimiinoiis, ok I- 4 c 570 POLITICAL SERIES. [Fourth rotative and rights, and gracious expressions towards her subjects, vvliich she displayed in the future period of her reign. As to her former resistance to entering on the married state, it can scarcely be said to have been without reason that she spoke of it as she did. She had declined the hand of the duke of Savoy, and afterwards of Philip II., and Eric, king of Sweden. In the same year she entered on one of those ' pro- gresses ' which she occasionally made, and which gave her an oppor- tunity both of receiving entertainment from her nobles, and of affording a gracious reception to her poorer subjects. If the representation given on this subject by Bohun, one of her eulogists, be correct, the parental character which she claimed was in some measure realized by the sweetness and condescension of her manners, even though it be granted that political prudence was one of the motives which prompted hei gracious behaviour towards her poor petitioners. This year, 1559, Elizabeth sent assistance to the Protestants in Scotland, and afterwards she refused a passport of safety to her cousin Marj^, queen of Scots, on the return of that princess to Scotland, from her residence in France. There Mary, it seems, had assumed the English arms, so as to excite the jealousy of the English queen ; and she had also been under the training of her uncle, the duke of Guise. Against the party headed by this Catholic house, Elizabeth supported the Protestant followers of Conde. But, jealous as she appears to have been of the Roman Catholics abroad, she declined, when the parliament, which met in 1563, recommended her entering into marriage, so as to fix the succession to the throne, to give a promise to that effect, or to decide in favour either of the supporters of Mary, queen of Scots, or of the family of Suffolk — the two rival aspirants at the succession to the English crown. For her cousin, the queen of Scots, however, she seemed to entertain a friendly regard, and proposed to her the hand of her own favourite, Robert Dudley ; but, on Mary showing a dis- position to entertain the proposal, she discouraged further proceedings towards its consummation.'* On this occasion, Mary sent Sir Robert Melville to confer with the English queen, and that envoy has recorded, in his ' Memoirs' some amusing particulars of his visit to her court. He and Elizabeth conversed respecting the garbs of different countries, and the latter having appeared in a variety of dresses, she asked Melville which of them best became her. He replied, the Italian, thinking he should thereby gratify hei", as, in that dress, her hair, of which she seemed to have a high idea, was peculiarly displayed. She even asked him, whether he thought Mary or herself the fairer ? He replied, that he thought Elizabeth the fairest person in England, and Mary the fairest in Scotland. Which of the two was the taller? was another of her queenly inquiries ; and, on his answering, Mary, she suggested that, in that case, her cousin was too tall, as she herself was of proper stature. The same style of question she extended to music and dancing. This picture is certainly by no means flattering to the modesty and dignity of the English queen. In articles of dress, Elizabeth, learned and powerful as siie was, seems to have taken a peculiar pride, if we may judge from the magnificence and multitude of those which she possessed, although, indeed, Aschara represents her as, in youth, eminent for free- • Keith 241—252. Peuiod.J ELIZABETH. 571 (iom fioiii gaiety in dress; nor is it a fact witliout an aniusinj; sort of interest, and even perhaps s^reat moral weight, as illustrating the weak- ness and inconsistency of huninn character, that a proclamation was issued against incorrect likenesses of her majesty, about the very time when we find her retiring from the seat of the ))lague to the perusal of the fathers of the church. In ]5t)(), Sir James Melville repeated his visit to the English court, in order to announce tlie l)irth of Mary's son. Prince James, afterwards Elizabeth's successor. The queen, who had given a ball at Greeiiwich on the ev(>ning of the Scottish envoy's arrival, when she lieard of the joyful event, treated it rather as a gloomy one, leaning her head on her arms, and bewailing the want in her own case of the good fortune which had happened to the queen of Scots. In September tluireaftcr parliament met. Cecil announced that Elizabeth had an intention to marry ; but while they were proceeding in a debate respecting the suc- cession, a message from the queen arrived forbidding tlum to go on. The command drew from one of the members an inquiry as to its legality, and others expressed dissatisfaction with the conduct of thr queen in regard to the succession. She repeated her prohibition, but at last allowed the house to proceed. Yet, in closing the parliament, 2d January, 1567, she represented certain of the members as seemingly against her, professing, however, a wish to fix the succession. "Whe- ther I live," said her majesty, "to see the like assembly or no, or whoever holds the reins of government, let me warn you to be^^•are of provoking your sovereign's patience, so far as you have done mine." * But if Elizabeth's circumstances were at this moment somewhat different from what so great a lover of prerogative desired, she was soon called to contemplate the darker lot of the queen of Scots. On the death of Darnley, Mary's husband, in February, 15G7, Elizabeth MTOte to her, with a view to secure for Lennox, the father of the deceased, an addition to the time allowed him for preparing evidence of Bothweli's concern in Darnley 's death ; and after the marriage of the Scottish queen M'ith that suspected man, and her subsequent confinement in the castle of Lochleven, she exjjressed both pity for Mary's misfortunes and displeasure at her conduct — advising her to avoid revenge against her enemies, to punish the murderers of Darnley, and to send her son to be educated in England. She also exjiressed an intention to support her cause, and authorised her envoy Throckmorton, to caution the associated lords against rebellion. He was also directed not to take a part in the coronation of Prince James — a ceremony which was per- formed, 29th July, 1567, after Mary had signed her abdication at the place of her confinement ; the French government was counselled to stop commercial intercourse with Scotland, until Mary should be re- stored ; and when the queen of Scots escaped from Lochleven, Eliza- beth offered her assistance. On the 16th of May, 15(i8, Mary, on the defeat of her supporters at the battle of Langside, crossed to the Eng- lish shore.^ Lord Scrope, and Sir Francis Kr.ollys, met her at the castle of Carlisle, and convejed to her Elizabeth's condolences, but in- timated that, under the present suspicions of her conduct, she could not l>e admitted to the presence of the English queen. The earl of Murray, ' D'Ewes 117.— Caiiuk'ii, J27. " Ktit'i, ITT. POLITICAL SEPJES. [Pourti. now head of the Scottish reformation, and Mary herself agreed to refer the dispute between them to Elizabeth. Mary drew back ; but Eliza- beth expostulated, and at last the commissioners of Mary met with those of the English queen. Mary declined to answer, allegmg that her sovereign rank withheld her from being amenable to any tribunal. Elizabeth wrote her, and suggested to her commissioners that it would be an evidence of guilt, if, after the charges made against her, she failed to offer a defence. A personal interview with Mary, Elizabeth still refused, yet declined to acknoAvledge that there was a lawful king or regency in Scotland. Neither would she agree to Mary's proposal to go over to her friends in France. In 1569, she discovered a scheme of the duke of Norfolk to marry her royal prisoner, and committed him to the tower, from which, liowever, he was soon released, and received again into favour, on his engaging to give up the scheme of the mar- riage, but by this time, an insurrection had occurred, headed by the earls of Northumberland and Westmoreland, of which Mary herself had gained information from the leaders. Elizabeth sent an army into Scotland on the charge of the English rebels having received protection in that country, but to Mary she continued to make friendly profes- sions, although similar terms a])pear to have been allotted to the op- posite party. Norfolk failed to fulfil his engagenieut, and a new attempt, fostered by Rodolphi, the bishop of Ross, and perhaps the queen of Scots herself, brought him to the scaffold on the 2d of June, 1572. Elizabeth twice revoked her signature to the warrant for his death, but, at length, acceded to a petition from parliament, that she would authorize Ids execution. To IMary she sent messengers asking satisfaction for her late conduct in the affair of Norfolk. Mary partly denied, and partly excused her participation in the matter. The parliament were incensed against the Scottish queen, but Elizabeth sent orders that they should not proceed in their opposition. Yet to these transactions excited by the partisans of Mary, Elizabeth could not be indifferent, and a sonnet on the disorders of the time, attributed to Elizabeth, was published, in her own life-time, by Puttenham, in his ' Art of Poetry.' In August, 1574, was perpetrated in France, under Charles IX., that infamous massacre of Protestants, by whicli upwards of twenty thousand persons were destroyed. On this occasion, a French ambassador, Fenelon, appeared at the English court, to explain the conduct of the king of France in this horrible transaction. He was received by the courtiers with solemn and melancholy silence, and Elizabeth herself, though she heard his explanation with apparent calmness, declared that she considered the deed a guilty one, even though the allegation of the French government were true, that the Hugonots had engaged in a conspiracy. But, in politics, prudence may seem to dictate what honour would otherwise forbid ; and, in the present case, Elizabeth went far- ther towards preserving an alliance with the French court — which was countenanced in its recent act by the pope and even by the Spanish government — than, even with the temptations to moderate conduct which her situation presented, the generous hatred of injustice and perfidy may be willing to excuse. Although, indeed, she renewed her pro- testation against the massacre, she allowed a marriage to be negotiated between herself and the duke of Alen^on, the third brother of the French king, and sent the earl of Worcester to assist at the baptism of I'JiitioD.j ELIZABKTII. 573 a cliild of Charles. Some time after, the duke of Ah'n(;on, now become duke of Anjou, visited Elizabeth at Greenwich, but the conference was secret. Burleigh, and some others, however, were authorised to enter into terms on the subject with the French and^ussadors, and it was agreed that, in six weeks after tiie ratification, the loyal jjailies should be married. But, after her usual manner, slu; vacillated on the rubject.'' She seems, however, to have had a decided inclination to- wards the marriage, and, when the duke visited her, in November, 1581, she is said to have put on his hand a ring taken from her own. But her most a])proved counsellors were against the match, — the ac- complished Sir Philij) Sidney sought by a letter to dissuade her, — and at last, after much doubt and anxiety, the scheme was given uj). A puritan, of the name of Stubbs, however, who had published a book against the marriage, -was condemned to lose his hand — a sentence at the execution of which he exclaimed, " God save the queen I " IMeanwhilc the queen of Scots was ke])t in strict captivity, and no doubt the prudent mind of Elizabeth might see some reason, in the foreign alliances and Romish ftiith of Mary, to be jealous of her return to power. The English queen, however, took some steps to have Mary associated with James in the government of Scotland. In 1584, she was still exposed to peril, and an association of her subjects bound themselves to her defence, — a measure also adopted, about the same time, by parliament, which, in that season of danger, enacted a law — executed on future occasions, even to the death of the accused — against Jesuits and popish jiriests. Parliamentary interference in the internal affairs of the church, however, Elizabeth prohibited. At this time she objected to the commons for taking such a step, and, at the close of the session, tills * governess of the church ' levelled her arrows not only against Catholics, but against Puritans also — a party that sought for greater exemption than the church of England aUbrdcd from the character of the church of Rome, and to which the queen had a particular dislike. With James she at length entered into an alliance, and the discovery of a conspiracy carried on l)y authority of Babingtoii, which aimed at'the assassination of Elizabeth, brought to the scaflbid first fourteen of the conspirators, and then tlie queen of Scots herself. Mary denied tliat she had concurred in the ])lan of murdering the English queen ; but the evidence of her two secretaries, Nare and Curie wei-e adduced against her, and — wdiether or not with sufficient reason, it may be ditii- cult to decide — sentence of death was pronounced on Mary, whose ardent temper and long captivity were but too much calculated to involve her in dangerous attempts. Elizabeth professed great unwillingness to execute the sentence. She summoned a parliament, and by that the sentence was confirmed. She still expressed herself as unwilling to enforce it, and even on the parliament strongly renewing its former re- conunendation, she dismissed the commission(!rs without a definite reply. According to the will of parliament, however, she issued a proclamation of the sentence. This was met by popular assent. But though the sentence was thus supported at home, foreign powers besought Eliza- beth not to execute it. James also interfered in behalf of his mother. 1'he queen replied as if it were her purpose to assent to Mary's execu- ' Camden ii65. 574 POLITICAL SERIES. [Eolkxii tioii, and her ministers advised her to the measure. At last she seemed to be alarmed by reports — artfully or honestly raised — of danger from abroad, and directed her secretary, Davison, to prepare a warrant for the execution of the queen of Scots — professing, however, that she meant to keep it beside her, to be ready in case of an attempt to release her royal prisoner. The warrant was prepared, and she signed it, and directed it to be communicated to the chancellor in order to be sealed. She then desired that it might be kept for some time, before being so disposed of. The order was too late — the warrant iiad passed the great seal. On Davison telling the queen so, she blamed him for precipita- tion. He consulted her council on the subject : they advised him to send the warrant to be executed, pledging his safety should he do so. Davison complied, and, on the 8th of February, 1587, the beautiful queen of Scots closed, by a violent death, a long captivity.^ Elizabeth, on hearing of Mary's execution, professed to be surprised, — her counte- nance changed, — for a considerable time she continued speechless, — and at last she broke out in mournful wailings. She put on deep mourning, and expressed great displeasure at any of her counsellors who ap- proached her, accusing them of an unpardonable offence.'' To James she wrote an apology, professing hatred of dissimulation, and declaring that she had not assented to his mother's death, — that, in fact, she could not write of it, and left it to a relative of her own to explain the matter to the king ; and that she had intended not to execute against Mary the righteous sentence pronounced against her. Davison was imprisoned and fined. His relation of the circumstances, however, bears witness to Elizabeth having expressed an intention to authorize the execution of the sentence, but, at the same time, to a wish, on her part, to throw the execution of it from herself upon others ; and he remarks, that, after the death of Norfolk, she had cast blame on Lord Burleigh in like manner as, in this case, she did on himself. Upon the whole, there is too much reason to suppose that Elizabeth's conduct, on occasion of Mary's death, partook of hypocrisy ; although, indeed, it seems but reasonable to admit that, as a relative of Mary, as having long detained her in a state of confinement, which seems to have prompted her to the attempts which she made against the English queen, and, as a [)rincess jealous of royal prerogative, she may, before she signed the warrant, have been sincerely scrupulous, and, after it was executed, painfully excited. In the course of these proceedings, at home, against the queen of Scots, Elizabeth had been opposing abroad the Spanish power. In the defence of the Dutch against the authority of that court, she had assigned a chief conmiand to her favourite, Dudley, earl of Leicestei", and, at the battle of Zutphen, she had lost a knight of more honourable fame, the illustrious Sir Philip Sydney — that 'jewel of her times,' as she called him. Towards Leicester, however, she had shewn great dissatisfaction, for accepting of certain exalted honours paid him by the United Provinces ; and that unworthy favourite, having now incurred odium abroad, was, in 1587, recalled from his command, though not finally rejected from the favour of the queen. Next year was distin- guished by the discomfiture of the ' Invincible armada' — that celebrated * llobeilsi))!. — Camdon, ' Slryjje. Peuiod.J ELIZABETH. 575 fleet sent forth by Philip of Spain, for the invasion of England. It was an occasion fitted to excite the energies of a Protestant (jueen. The in- vasion was supported by a papal bull against the heretical land and sove- reign of England. On the result of it tiie Protestants rested their hopes respecting tiie national religion, and the future destiny of England was at stake. Tiie queen was energetic and active in iter preparations for the approaching crisis. She appeared in person in the camp at Till)ury, on horseback, and exiiorted the soldiers, declaring tliat she herseli wouhl lead tiieni to the iiekl. On tlu! 19th of July, tiie armada— which is describeil as a magniiicent spectacle — arrived in the English channel. Between the attack of English ships, and a storm by which tJie Spanish fleet was overtaken, the enterprise was frustrated ; and Elizabeth, wlio had so vigorously prepared for the occasion, proceeded in procession to St Paul's, to return thanks for the defeat. But with tills memorable victory her opposition to Spain did not finally terminate, and, in the parliament which met in February, 1593, she discoursed of the reasons which she had for hostility to that country, adding, in re- ference to the king of Spain, "I am informed that when he attempteil the last invasion, some upon the sea-coast forsook their towns, fled up higher into the country, and left all naked and exposed to his entrance : but I swear unto you, if I knew those persons, or may know of any that shall do so hereafter, I will make them feel what it is to be fearful in so urgent a cause." In a like imperious style slu; rebuked the com- mons, during tlie same session, for interfering witli the mode of collect- ing purveyance for her family, instead of leaving that matter to her, as in'istress of her own household ; and she also renewed her caution against parliamentary interference with ecclesiastical affairs. If Elizabeth used freedoai in reproving parliament, she used similat liberty in regard to individuals connected with her person. When h(;r chaplain, Nowel, was preaching before her majesty, he expressed him- self somewhat freely it seems, respecting the sign of the cross, on which the queen called out from the window of her closet, telling the preach- er to " retire from that ungodly digression, and return unto his text." The following letter to a prelate is illustrative at once of a prolane phraseology to which slie was addicted, and of her peremptory and im- perious style : — " Proud prelate, I understand you are backward in com- plying with your agreement ; but I would have you know, that I, who made you what you are, can unmake you ; and if you do not forthwith fulfil your engagement, by God, I will immediately unfrock you. Your's, as you demean yourself, Elizabeth." It appears she even beat her maids of honour. Nay, on one occasion, she inflicted a blow on the earl of Essex, who had taken a distinguished part in the Spanish war, and had become a favourite of the queen. By the rudeness of Elizabeth on thio occasion, the spirit of the earl was mortally incensed, i)ut he was soon received again into her fiivour, and, in 1399, she sent iiim to Ireland as lord-lieutenant, with a view to the quelling of a rebellion which had occurred in that part of her dominions. But this appoint- ment — the expression of her regard — was to prove the cause of its with- drawel from that rash though gallant nobleman. On this occasion, he chose, as master of the horse, the earl of Southampton, who, by a pri- vate marriage, had displeased the queen. S!ie rebuked Essex for tiie a{)pointment. He witlidrew it, but having proved unsuccessful in Ire 576 POLITICAL SERIES. TFouinn land, and hearing that the queen was offended at his measures, he suddenly set out from that country, and forthwith appeared in the presence of his royal mistress. She received him kindly, but almost immediately after began that course of imprisonment and ju- dicial investigations which terminated— not without ground — in the execution of the earl. During the proceedings the queen appears de- cidedly displeased with Essex, although after he had been committed to confinement in his own honse, and had been seized with illness, she expressed sorrow, and said that, were it honourable so to do, she would visit him. For a conspiracy to seize on the palace, and induce Eliza- beth to change her ministers and call a parliament, he was tried and executed, 25th February, 1602.'" But, in this last transaction of his melancholy end, the queen afforded another example of inaecision, first signing the warrant, then recalling it, and thereafter repeating the same course. Elizabeth now entered into negotiations with the king of France respecting the balance of power in Europe. Rosni, the French am- bassador, expressed a very high opinion of her character, as exhibited upon this occasion ; and in parliament, which met in October, an agreement on the part of the queen to rescind the more oppressive of the existing monopolies — ^the granting of which she had used as a me- thod of rewarding services — drew forth, in the house of commons, tor- rents of flattering compliment, or enthusiastic admiration. But her years were almost numbered. Age had overtaken her, little mclined as she seems to have been to have her ' winding-sheet,' as she ex- pressed it, ' pinned up before her ej'es.' The death of her prudent and valuable counsellor. Lord Burleigh, in 1598, is said to have often drawn forth her tears. Leicester too was gone, and Essex had perished by her own permission. There were many dark spots in the escutcheon of her glory ; and from the gay scenes which she had loved, and the poli- tical transactions wherein she had triumphed, she was soon to be with- drawn. " These things will please you less when you feel creeping- time at your gate," said she, in 1602, to Sir John Harrington, when he read some verses in her hearing. Even in that year Harrington represents her as a mournful spectacle. But the dimness of evening was soon exchanged for the gloom of a later and darker liour. A deep melancholy settled on that masculine spirit which, through so long a reign, had ruled the destinies of England. To account for this pain- ful visitation, the following anecdote — which later evidence appears to have rendered very probable — has been adduced. The queen, after the return of Essex from Cadiz, gave him a ring as a pledge of her favour, should he send it to her in an occasion of extremity. On his condem ■ nation, he intrusted it to the countess of Nottingham to present to his royal mistress. Her husband being the enemy of Essex, induced the countess not to convey it to the queen. The countess became ill, and conscience-stricken respecting her conduct in the matter, received a visit from Elizabeth, to whom she explained the story of the ring. Avhich the queen had thought Essex through obstinacy forbore to send, and who, roused to passion by the disclosure of the countess, shook her ill bed, declaring " that God might pardon her, but she. never could ; " '" Cumilcn. Peuiod.] ELIZABETH. 577 and forthwith j^avo hnrsclf up to that melancholy which darketiod the closing days of hor brilliant life. Tho queen lay for more than a week on the carpet, hjaning on cushions. A few words which she uttered indicated tlu; malady within. The earl of Monmouth says, " On Wed- nesday, the :23(1 of March, she frve.w speechless. T.'iat afternoon, by signs, she called for her council, and by putting her hand to her head when the king of Scots was named to succeed her, they all knew he was the man she desired should reign after her." Mr D'Israeli has dis- covered a curious document wliicdi lie s\ipposes to have been drawn up by Petyt from the information of an eye-witness. It is entitled, ' Ac- count of the last words of Queen Elizabeth about her successor,' and proceeds thus ; — " On the Tuesday before her death, being the twenty- third of March, the admiral being on the right side of iier bed, tiie lord-keeper on the left, and Mr Secretary Cecil (afterwards earl of Sal- isbury,) at the bed's feet, all standing, the lord-admiral ])ut her in mind of her speech concerning the succession had at Whitehall, and that tiiey, in tha name of all the rest of her council, came unto her to know her pleasure who should succeed ; whereupon she thus replied : — ' I told you my seat had been the seat of kings, and I will have no rasc'al to succeed me. And Avho sliould succeed me but a king ? ' The lords not understanding this dark speech, and looking one on the other ; at length Mr Secretary boldly asked her what she meant by those words, that ' no rascal should succeed her.' Whereto she replied, that her mean- ing was, that a king should succeed : ' and who,* quoth she, ' should that be but our cousin of Scotland ? ' They asked her whether that were her absolute resolution ? whereto she answered, ' I pray you trouble rae no more ; for I will have none but him.' With wiiich answer th;'y departed. Notwithstanding, after again, about four o'clock in the af- ternoon the next day. being Wednesday, after the archbishop of Canter- bury and other diviiies had been with her, and left her in a manner speechless, the three lords aforesaid repaired unto her again, asking her if she remained firm in her former resolution, and who should succeed her ? but not being able to speak, was asked by Mr Secretary in this sort : — ' We beseech your majesty, if you remain in your former reso- lution, and that you would have the king of Scots to succeed you in your kingdom, show some sign unto us :' whereat, suddenly heaving herself upwards in her bed, and j)utting her arms out of bed, she held her hands jointly over her head in manner of a crown ; whence, as they guessed, she signified that slie did not only wish him the kingdom but desired continuance of his estate: after which they departed, and the next morning she died. Immediatly after her death, all the lords, as well of the council as other nobleujcn that were at the court, came from Richmond to Whitehall by six o'clock in the morning, where otlier noblemen that were in London met them. Touching the suc- cession, after some speeches of divers competitions and matters of state, at length the admiral rehearsed all the aforesaid promises which the late queen had spoken to him, and to the lord-keeper, and Mr Ser;- retary (Cecil) with the manner thereof; which they being asked, did affirm to be true, upon their honour." Elizabeth's character stands prominently out on the annals of her reign. Early eminent for classical learning, slio carried her literary pursuits into maturer life, and Ascham states that he had lieard her 1. i D o73 POLITICAL SERIES. [Foxnii >nve Huent and appropriate replies, in Italian, French, and Latin, to Hiree aiu'oassdaors at once. Tiiat she was not munificent in her patron- a'^e of learning, her parsimonious character, as well as the poverty of Ascliam, her tutor, and Spencer, her poet-laureate, seem to render probable ; but, that she did patronise it is well known to those ac- quainted with the literary history of her 'golden days.' She was sur- rounded by a galaxy not only of literary genius, but of political and military talent ; yet she directly exercised a mighty personal influence in the transactions of her reign. Proud and imperious, she seems to have used as a principle which she would not permit her subjects to overlook, the sentiment she enforced on Leicester^" I will have here but one mistress, and no master." Influence seems to have been a leading object of her measures, and power a weapon which she could at once graciously and fearlessly employ. Thus, indeed, it might be possible to explain that union of great and sordid qualities which marks her character. For it is a great moral fact, that she seems to have been passionate, intolerant, vain, and parsimonious, eminent as she was in intellect, literary in ta^te, condescending in manners, protestant in faith, powerful in rule, and illustrious in fame. BOKN A. I). 1515. DIED A. U. 15G5. One of the most distinguished ornaments of the 16th century, was Sir Thomas Chaloner, a gallant soldier, an able statesman, and an ac- complished author. He was born in 1515, of a good family in Wales, and was sent to Cambridge at an early age, but soon distinguished himself at college by the elegance of his Latin verses. The friendship of several influential men introduced him to court, and he was almost immediately selected to attend Sir Henry Knevet, the English ambas- sador, into Germany. At the court of Charles V., young Chaloner was received with extraordinary favour, and became so much attached to the emperor, that he was early persuaded to accompany him in his unfortunate expedition against Algiers. In the great storm which dashed in pieces the emperor's fleet, Chaloner suffered shipwreck ; but whilst struggling for his life amid the waves, he fortunately caught hold of a vessel's cable by which he was drawn upon deck with the loss of ••several of his teeth. On his return to England he was made clerk of the council, which office he held during the remainder of Henry's reign. Under the pro- tectorate, he attended the English forces into Scotland, and greatly distinguished himself in the battle of Pinkey, in the presence of Som- erset, who conferred the honour of knighthood upon him on the field. The fall of his patron put a stop to his political advancement, for such was his high sense of honour that he could not stooj) to make court to the man who had raised himself upon the ruins of one to whom he felt himself under many obligations. His loyalty to his prince, how- ever, and the vigilant and careful manner in which he continued to discharge his official duties, preserved iiim in office, and protected him froiM any annoyance ; while the friendship of such men as Cheke, Pkkiod,] lady CATIIEllINE GliEY. 57'J Cook, Smith, and Cecil, combined with his own literary tastes and habits, enablcnl him to fill uj) his retirement in such a way as left him little to regret in the loss of political honours. The accession of Mary placed a man of Chaloner's open and un- compromising character in considorabU; danger ; for, while a zealous Protestant, lie could not stoop to any of tiiose artifices by which some endeavoured to evade sas])ici()n and retain oflice ; but many of his Catholic friends now remendjcsred with gratitude the servicers which lu; had rendered them during tlie reign of Mary's ])redecessor, and hast- ened to return his kinilness by extending to him tiieir protection in turn. On the accession of Elizabetii, Sir Thomas appi:ared at court with iiis former lustre, and was soon after sent as anil)assador to Ferdinand of Germany. He aecpiitted himself in this important metuiure entirely to the satisfaction of the queen, who, on his return from Ferdinand's court, immediately despatched him on a like embassy to Spain. At the Spanish court — as he had indeed anticipated — he was very ill received, and he soon after petitioned for his recall ; but Elizabeth refused to grant his request, affirming that she had no one else who could supply his place. Pliilip's ministers tried to bully the English envoy, but Sir Thomas kept up his spirit, and convinced them that neither he nor his royal mistrt^ss were to be trifled witli. To relieve the ennui of his dis- agreeable situation at the court of Philip, he amused himself with com- posing his treatise on ' the right ordering of the English republic;' but falling into bad health, he was necessitated to petition again for his re- call, which he did by addressing his sovereign in an elegy after the manner of Ovid, setting forth his earnest desire to revisit his native country ere the disease which now preyed upon him forced him upon a longer journey. The petition of the poet was grantcil, and Sir Thomas returned to England with a broken constitution, in the latter end of the year 1564. He died on the 7th of October, next year, and was buried in St Paul's, his friend, Sir William Cecil, officiating aa chief mourner. Sir Thomas was the autlior of several tracts, besides his work ' De Republica Anglorum instauranda,' which was published at London, in quarto, in 1379. Hatri) Catherine ^vt^. vu'.o A, u. 1567. After the death of Lady Jane, her sister. Lady Catherine, became the heiress of the house of Suffolk, and, next to the queen of Scots, the first princess of the blood. It will be remembered that this lady had been affianced to Lord Herbert, son of the earl of Peml)roke, on the same day that Guildford Dudley received her sister's hand, but had been repudiated by that time-serving nobleman Jis soon as the fortunes of her family waned before the ascendancy of Mary Tudor. From this time Lady Catherine remained in neglect and obscurity, but was pri- vately married to the earl of Hertford, the son of the protector So)ner- set, notwithstanding the deadly feud which subsisted between these two Ihmilies. The consecpiences of tiiis union became appiU'ent in August, 580 POLITICAL SERIES. [Fourth 1560, when Larly Catherine declared herself to be the lawful wii> of f lie earl, and was immediately committed to the Tower. Guildford was in the meantime summoned to appear before certain commissioners with evidence of the alleged marriage ; but being at the moment absent in France, he found it impossible to collect his evidence in time, and the commissioners thereupon pronounced the marriage null, and sentenced both parties to be imprisoned during the queen's pleasure. Elizabetli unquestionably had no right to any such exercise of prerogative over Lady Catherine, whose degree of relationship to the queen was not so near as to render her marriage without the royal consent illegal ; but the spirit of the times admitted of such violations of the liberty of the subject, and it was Elizabeth's avowed policy, whether sound or not, to keep contending claims to the crown suspended upon herself as long as possible. In the warrant for her imprisonment addressed to the lieutenant of the Tower, that officer is commanded " to examine the Lady Catherine very sharply, how many hath been privy to the love between her and the earl of Hertford from the beginning, and let her certainly un- derstand that she shall have no manner of favour except she will show the truth, not only what ladies or gentlewomen of the court were thereto privy but also what lords and gentlemen."' But Elizabetii'j! indignation was destined to receive a fresh impulse from the unconquer- able attachment of the lovers, who contrived to elude the watchfulness of their gaolers, so that a second pregnancy was soon announced Warren, the lieutenant of the Tower, was instantly dismissed, and Hert- ford was fined £13,000 in the star-chamber for the threefold offence ul deflowering a female of the blood royal, of repeating that outrage after sentence of nullity, and of breaking prison. But the public voice was unanimously in favour of the hapless pair, and it was loudly asked by what right, or upon what principles of law, human or divine, her majesty presumed to keep asunder those whom God had joined? The breaking out of the plague produced some relaxation of severity to tlie noble prisoners, and Lady Hertford was allowed to retire from the city to the country-seat of her uncle Lord John Grey. But the queen's resentment still burned against the offenders, and in 1565, both were recommitted to the Tower. Lady Hertford was kept in custody till tlie day of her death in 1567, and the earl her husband suffered a fartlicr imprisonment of three years. Lady Catherine upon her death-bed evinced much of the calmness and resignation which had characterized the last moments of her unfortunate sister. She besought those who attended her to solicit Elizabeth's protection for her three infant sons ; and taking off her wedding-ring desired it to be sent to her husband. She then closed her eyes with her own hands, and breathed out her spirit without a struggle or sigh. Half a century after, the validity of her marriage vyas pronounced by a jiuy. Pekioi^.J IIEllBiCRT, KARL OF PEMBROKE. o8i HOIIN A. D. 1j07 DIKD A. D. 1570. This peer was the offsprliitr of an illegitimate son of William Ilrr- l)ert, earl of Pembroke. Coming early to court to push his fortune, he beeame an esquire of the body to Henry VIII. Like his contemporary, and fellow in good fortune, Paulet, marquis of Winchester, Heri)ert early in lite adopted the prudiiut maxim, " ortus sum ex salice, non ex t]uercu," — a maxim which he never once lost sight of during his long [)ublic life, and to which he certainly was indebted for his personal innnunity from the effects of those stormy agitations which so often prostrated more unbending spirits around him. By his supple com- pliance with Henry's whims and pleasures he quickly ingratiated himself with that monarch, who, with his customary profusion towards his favourites, made him several enormous grants of abbey-lands in some of the southern counties. In the year 1544, we find him holding the king's license "to retain thirty persons at his will and pleasure, over and above such persons as attended on him, and to give them his livery, badges, and cognisance." Henry's marriage with Catherine Parr, the sister of Herbert's wife, increased his influence and importance in the state. In the beginning of Edward's reign he obtained the appointment of master of the horse in consideration of his eminent services in checking some commotions in Wales and Wiltshire. Soon after, his services against the Cornish rebels procured for him the order of the gaiter and the presidency of the council for Wales. We next lind him command- ing part of the forces in Picardy, and governor of Calais, for which he obtained the revival in his own person of the titles of Baron Herbert and earl of Pembroke which had become extinct by the failure of legi- timate heirs. The fall of Somerset and rise of Northumberland was of course followed by a suitable change in Pembroke's views and policy. And the new protector deemed his alliance of sufficient consequence to strengthen it by proposing a marriage between Pembroke's son. Lord Herbert, and his own daughter Lady Catherine Grey. Tliis connexion, however, neither blinded Pembroke to the true asjiect of the times, nor induced him to compromise his own interests for one moment in the brief struggle for royal ascendancy which followed on the proclamation of Lady Jane Grey. For, though he concurred in the first measures of the privy council in behalf of Lady Jane's title, he no sooner perceived the exact position and strength of parties than he reversed his policy, and from a supporter became a fatal opponent of Northumberland's measures. It was at his house that the lords assembled who first adopt- ed the resolution of proclaiming the Lady Mary; and it was Pembroke who seconded Arundel's proposal to that effect in a speech of extreme violence. By this act of subtle policy he at once extricated iiimself from the difficulties of his former position, and secured the favour of tiie new queen, whom he farther ])ropitiated by afterwards con.pelling his son to repudiate Lady Catherine, Mary confided to him the -Jiarge of suj)pressing Wyatt's rebellion, and rewarded his success in ^82 POLITICAL SERIES. [Eodkth that important trust by appointinp^ him her captain-general beyonrl tiie s(>as. The accession of Elizabeth furnished Pembrokf- with new occasion for the exercise of his accommodating policy, and we find him not only re- taining his seat in the privy-council, but honoured with the special favour and confidence of the Protestant queen, being appointed with the marquis of Northampton, the earl of Bedford, and Lord Jolm Grey, tlie leading men of the Protestant paj-ty, to assist at the meetings o( divines and men of learning by whom the religious establishment of the country was to be settled. He died in 1570, in the 63d year of his age. nORN A. D. 1507. — DIED A. D. 1387. Sir Ralph Sadlkr, the son of Henry Sadler, or Sadleyer, a gentleman of small fortune, was born at Hackney in Middlesex, in the year 1507. In early life he obtained a situation in the family of Crom- well, earl of Essex, through whose short-lived influence he was first placed in the way to promotion. Having filled some inferior appoint- ments, he was advanced by Henry VIH. to a seat in the privy-council. He was employed by Henry in the great work of dissolving the religious houses, and, acquitting himself to the satisftiction of his master, was rewarded with his full share of the spoil. But the most important part of his political life was passed in repeated embassies to Scotland, in all of which he displayed much dexterity, and won the fullest confidence of his successive sovereigns. Two large volumes of his letters to the Eng- lish court, written during these services, have been edited by W. Clifford, and form a valuable contribution to our published state-papers. His first embassy to Scotland was made in 1537, and had for its secret object to strengtiien the English interests in the council of regency, which then governed the kingdom. His next mission, undertaken in 1539, was intended to detach King James from the councils of Cardinal Beaton, his chief minister, and to persuade him to follow the example of his uncle, Henry, by introducing the reformed religion into Scotland. The diplomatist was baffled on this occasion ; but the death of James, and the accession of his daughter Mary, altered the forn. of English policy, and Sadler was again despatched to Scotland, in 1543, for the purpose of negotiating a marriage betwixt Prince Edward and the infant princess ; but notwithstanding of the zeal and ability which Sadler displayed on this occasion, he completely failed in his object, and was compelled precipitately to withdraw himself from the furious political storm which his intrigues had occasioned. In the war with Scotland which followed, Sadler, now Sir Ralph, was constituted military treasurer; from the protector, Somerset, he also received a confirrnation of all the ciiurch-lands which Henry had bestowed <>n liini, with several new grants. During Mary's reign, Sadler, who was a zealous reformer, prutlently withdrew from public life, and remained at home in strictest privacy. But the accession of Elizabeth called him from his retirement; and beino- again sent into Scotland, he became the principal agent from tlie Pkuiod.J sir NICHOLAS BACON. 583 English court in that country, during the extraordinary scene of political and religious commotion which preceded the introduction of the refor- mation into Scotland. The letters written by Sadler at this eventful period are numerous and extremely interesting. The unfortunate queen of Scotland was placed under Sir Ralph's charge at Tutl)ury, for eight months towards the close of her life. In this odious service he displayed a manlier and more feeling heart than any of Mary's other keepers ; her misfortunes touched his sympathy, — he believed her inno- cent of the offences laid to her charge; anrl he hastened to communicate the favourable opinion which he had formed of her both to Elizabeth herself, and her minister Cecil. EliznlM'th immediately removed Mary from Sadler's charge, but that she did not cease to confide in him is evident from her employing him shortly afterwards in a mission to James VI. to dissuade that prince from going to war with England on his mother's account. Sir Ralph made a discredital)le marriage, for on the 9th of December, 1554, an act of parliament was passed to legiti- mate his children by Ellen, his wife ; and Matthew Barre, her former husband, is therein stated to be at that time alive. He died on the 30th of March, 1587. 0iv Nif jiolas Bacon. BORN A. D. 1510. — DIED A. D. 1579. Sir Nicholas Bacon, lord-keeper of the great seal in the reign of Elizabeth, was descended from an ancient and honourable family of Suffolk, and was born, in 1510, at Chislehurst in Kent. At an early age he was entered of Corpus Christi college, Cambridge ; and, after studying there some years, he went to France, to give the last polish to his education. On his return home he fixed himself at Gray's inn, where he applied with great assiduity to the study of the law, and, in the 38th year of Henry VIII., we find hira promoted to the office o attorney in the court of wards. His patent to this honourable and lucrative office was renewed in the succeeding brief reign ; but the ac- cession of Mary threw a transient cloud over his fortunes. In the very dawn of Elizabeth's reign he received the honour of knighthood; and, on the seals being taken from Archbishop Heath, they were transferred, with the title of lord-keeper, to Sir Nicholas Bacon, on the 22d of December, 1558. In the parliament which met in January, 1559, and in which, it was anticipated, the queen's title to the crown, and her marriage, would come under discussion, the lord-keeper afforded his royal mistress the most prudent and judicious advice, counselling her not to press the repeal of those acts of her father's reign, which had declared his mar- riage with her mother null, and herself illegitimate ; but to repose in the maxim of law — that the crown, once worn, takes away all defects in blood. He also opened the parliament in the queen's presence, and afterwards headed the deputation from the commons in the special matter of her majesty's marriage. But the principal business of the session was the settlement of the ecclesiastical affairs of the nation, and ill this delicate and important task Sir Nicholas acquitted himself with 58-1 POLITICAL SERIES. [Fourth c:reat prudence and moderation. When, in order to dissolve or neu- tralize the opposition to the new measures, five bishops and three doc- tors, on the one side, and eight reformed divines on the other, received the royal command to hold a public disputation on certain controverted points, the lord-keeper was commissioned to act as moderator, and acquitted himself with perfect fairness, although some Catholic writers liave attempted to fasten a charge of partiality upon him. In 1564, his favour with the queen was somewhat endangered by the ai>pearance of a treatise in favour of the claims of the Suffolk line to the English crown, and against the title of the queen of Scots, which greatly excited Elizabeth's displeasure, but which the lord-keeper was suspected of secretly approving and circulating. This storm, however, soon passed over, and, in 1568, Bacon was placed at the head of the commission for hearing and determining tlie differences between the queen of Scots and her rebellious subjects. Sir Nicholas died on the 20th of February, 1579. Camden has thus sketched his character: " Vir praepinguis, ingenio acerrimo, singulari pru- dentia, summa elocjuentia, tenaci memoria, et sacris conciliis alterum colu- men ; " that is, " a man of a gross body, but most subtle wit, of singular prudence, of high eloquence, of a retentive memory, and, for judgment, the other pillar of the state." His son's character of him is more striking. *' He was," says the great Lord Bacon, speaking of his father, " a plain man, direct and constant, without all finesse and doubleness, and one that M'as of a mind, that a man, in his private proceedings and estate, and in the proceedings of state, should rest upon the soundness and strength Df his own causes, and not npon practice to circumvent others, accord- ing to the sentence of Solomon, ' vir prudens advertit ad gressus suos ; stultus autem divertit ad dolorem ; ' insomuch that the bishop of Rosse, a subtle and observing man, said of him, that he could fasten no words upon him, and that it was impossible to come within him, because he offered no play ; and tlie queen-mother of France, a very polite prin- cess, said of him, that he should have been of the council of Spain, be- cause he despised the occurrents, and rested upon the fir^t plot." Sir Nicholas was an acute, and, what was rarer in his days, a cautious statesman. His great skill lay in balancing factions, — a secret which he probably imparted to his royal mistress, who proved no unapt pupil in his hands. As lord-keeper, he distinguished himself by the very moderate use which he made of his powers, and by the respect which he manifested on all occasions for the common law. He had not been niviny months in office, as keeper of the great seal, before he began to entertain some doubts as to the precise extent of his authority in that capacity, owing perhaps to the very general terms used upon tlie deli- very of tlie great seals.' Upon this he applied to her majesty, from whom he procured a patent, declaring him to have as full powers as if he were chancellor of England. But this did not fully satisfy him, and, four years afterwards, an act of parliament was passed, which declares that " the common law always was, the keeper of the great seal always had, as of right belonging to his oifice, the same authority, juris- diction, execution of laws, and all other customs, as the lord-chancellor of England lawfully used." Bishop Tanner has enrolled Sir Nicholas ' Sue li} mer's Ftetluraj passim. l'K.!in„.l sm THOMAS GRESHAM. 585 Baeoii among the writers of his country, on account of numerous pieces of his, ciiioHy speeches In coujicil and parliament, whicli are still pre- served in manuscript collections. Mr Masters also notices a conna>iit oi his on the twelve minor prophc^ts. noiiN A. I). 1 jlO. — i)n:i) a. d. 157!). Sir Thomas Guesu.vm was the youni^cM- son of Sir Richard Gre- sliam, who died, February, 1548. Sir Richard was a wealthy merchant, — a man of considerable public spirit, which is evinced by his succes- sively filling the offices of alderman, sheriff, and lord-mayor of the city of London. His brother, Sir John Gresham, was also an opulent merchant, and attained the same honours. He died of a malignant fever in 1556. He was known by many acts of munificence, but by none more splendid than the endowing of the free school of Holt, in Norfolk, with the government of which he invested the fish-mongers' company in London. Thomas, the subject of the present sketch, was born in London, 1519. When young, he was bound apprentice to a mercer there. Ho did not long remain in this situation, but was sent to Caius college, Cambridge, then called Gonville hall, that he migiit receive an education worthy of his fortune. He here made such pro- gress that he acquired the name of ' Doctissimus mercator.' The; commercial spirit within him, however, was too strong for the spirit of literature, and the splendid prospects which trade opened at this period mduced him to engage in it. He was admitted member of the mer- chants' company in 1543, soon after which he married Ann, the daughter of William Fernely, Esq., of West Creting, Suffolk ; and during the remainder of his father's life, prosecuted his mercantile pur- suits with distinguished diligence. He was in hopes, at his father's death, of obtaining his situation, namely, as money-agent for the king at Antwerp. In this he was disappointed ; this disappointment, how- ever, was the means of a more rapid rise of fortune eventually. For the successful candidate for the office, having, by his mismanagemtMit, involved the king's affairs in all but inextricable confusion, Gresham was chosen to the arduous duty of retrieving them. This difficult task he performed with the most distinguished ability. He found the affairs of his sovereign in a most embarrassed state, and the general method of transacting them such as must perpetually add to those embarrassments. It appears that money had been borrowed for the English monarch at an enormous interest, and that, when not taken up at the specified period, an extension of time was to be purchased only by several hu- miliating and embarrassing conditions. This mode of transacting busi- ness neither suited the commercial habits of Gresham, nor comported, as he thought, with tlie dignity of tlu' British crown. And so effectual was the system he adojjted in its stead, that, in the course of two years, he paid off the whole of a large loan, though shackled with a large accu- nmlation of interest, and of course raised the king's credit to an unpre- cedented height. His plan for effecting this object was so mgenious that we cannot allow it to pass unmeutioned. He secretly procured 1. 4 E from England a weekly sum of £1300 or £1400, and, with this supply, he took up about £200 sterling daily, or £73,000 a-year. These small daily sums, exciting no suspicion, caused no fall of the exchange. He also advised the king to take into his own hands all the lead in his dominions, and then, after forbidding its exportation for four or five years, dole it out at Antwerp, at the extravagant price to which such a monopoly could not fail to raise it. So much was Gresham in request, and that too for the management of political as well as pecuniary matters, that it is supposed that, during the short reign of Edward "VI., he made not less than forty journeys to Antwerp ; services for which that monarch gave him the most flattering tokens of his regard. At the accession of Queen Mary, he was deprived of his agency, — a piece of injustice which elicited from him a memorial of his past services, the statement of which induced the queen to reinstate him in all his former employments. After Queen Mary's death, he remained in of- fice under Elizabeth, who employed him in several most important and difficult money transactions in this eventful reign. Honour and wealth now flowed in upon him apace. He was knighted, and appoint- ed general-agent to her majesty for foreign parts. He justly thought that this elevation in rank and accession of wealth warranted his adop- ting a superior style of living, and he therefore built a magnificent mansion in Bishopsgate-street, afterwards called Gresham college. In the midst of all this prosperity, however, he was reminded how easily it might be marred, and how slight is the tenure by which it is held, by the sudden death of an only son, in 1564, at sixteen. To divert his mind and soothe his grief, this princely merchant strove to forget the desolation of his own hearth, by turning his thoughts abroad, and devising schemes of public utility. Prosperity had not rendered him selfish. The London merchants, at this period, used to meet in Lombard- street, in the open air, exposed to all the inclemency of the v.-eather Sir Thomas's father had proposed the building of a house or exchange, m imitation of that of Antwerp, but died without doing any thing towards the accomplishment of his object. His son undertook it with greater spirit and a better prospect of success. He promised the citizens of London, that if they would provide a piece of ground, of the ne- cessary size, and in a suitable situation, he would erect an exchange at his private expense. Tiiis munificent offer was gladly accepted, and eighty houses occupying the alleys known by the name of Swan-alley, New-alley and St Christopher's alley, were purchased for this object for the sum of £3,532. This was in 1506. In June he laid the founda- tion stone; and in November of 1567 the shell was finished and the roof slated ; and the building was completed in three years. The exchange at Antwerp was the model of this structure ; in shape it was an oblong ; it was surrounded by a portico of marble pillar^, under which were sho]is. In 1570, Elizabeth paid this magnificent building a visit and conferred on it the name of the Royal exchange : the name still possessed by its successor. This noble building was con- sumed in the great fire of London. While engaged in this grand de- sign, all his skill was required in the transaction of certain important money affairs of her majesty. Owing to the quarrel between Elizabeth and the king of Spain, the English merchants had been compelled to ri:iaoD.] SIR THOMAS GRESHAM. 587 ?liip tlioir iroods for Hainl)urgli, on wliicli Duke Alva, governor of the Notlierlaiids, prohibited all eoniiuerco with England. The secretary Cecil was extremely fearfid lest the queen, hy the defalcation in the revenues consequent on tiiis interrupted state of coinnicrce, should be unable to pay her foreign creditors. The sagacity of Sir Thomas (iresham, however, helped hirn through all his ditticulties. At th{! same time, to prevent in future the queen's being placer! in such precarious cireumstances, he strongly advised that she should borrow of her own sul)jects in preference to foreigners. But when this project was first explained to the merchants, it met with their decided opposition and was negatived in the conmion-hall. Upon more mature consid(!ration, however, and sometliing like a menace from the privy-council, they ac- ceded to the proposal, and had no cause to repent it. This was the humble origin of those vast sums which the merchant-body have since advanced to the state. In 1572, the queen did Gresham the honour of appointing him — together with the archbishop of Canterbury, the bishop of London, and others — assistant to the lord-mayor in the government of the city during her summer-progress. About this time Sir Thomas added to the numerous purchases he had before made in various parts of the kingdom, that of Osterly-park, near Brentford, as a ready retreat from the cares of business and the bustle of the city. Here he built a magnificent residence, and laid out vast sums in improving and adorning the estate ; at the same time, never forgetting the useful in the elegant, nor the character of a prudent merchant in that of an o])ulent citizen, he built several mills on the river Brent. An amusing anecdote is told in connection with his residence at Osterly-park. It is said that Queen Elizabeth, when on a visit to him at that place, having suggested that some alteration would be a great improvement, the gallant merchant sent to London for workmen that very night, and by dawn of day, to the unspeakable surprise of the queen, the work was completed. A witty courtier remarked on the occasion that it was not to be wondered at that he who had " so soon built a change," should as " easily change a building." Our princely merchant now began to entertain another magnificent project, namely, that of turning his mansion in Bishopsgate-street into a seat of learning and of science, and endowing it for the benefit of future generations. The education Sir Thomas Gresham had received at Caius college, had freed hiui from many of tiie low and illiberal pre- judices against knowledge and science too often cherished by men of business. He saw that literature was by no means incompatible with commercial shrewdness and sagacity, and that the more enlarged a man's vie\i'S are, the greater is his power in whatever situation he may be placed. The great monopolists of learning — Oxford and Cambridge — endeavoured to dissuade him from his design, but in vain ; and Sir Thomas's mansion was henceforth destined for lecturers and professors o^' tlie seven liberal sciences, all of whom were to be salaried from the revenues of the Royal exchange. It was called Gresham college ; it is now transformed into the excise office. In addition to these public acts of munificence, the jirivate charities of our merchant were most liberal. His will provides for the erection and support of eight alms houses, and £10 yearly tosmeral prisons and 588 POLITICAL SERIES. [Fodrth hospitals. Sir Thomas died suddenly in November '21, 1579, in the full enjoyment of his prosperity. He was buried in St Helen's church with great pomp and with every demonstration of public regret. His character is best gathered from the tenour of his life. His commercial aljilities were unrivalled ; he was a liberal patron of the sciences and the arts; cautious and sagacious, he knew how to make money, — muni- ficent, hospitable, generous, he knew how to show it. He was one of the few whom prosperity cannot spoil; the same amidst riches and honours as he had been in humble circumstances. He was dignified without pride, magnificent without ostentation, generous but not lavish; he was one of those very rare men of simplicity, worth, and true practi- cal wisdom, who know what is due to every situation, and can adapt their conduct with a nice and accurate adjustment to all the varying circum- stances of fortune. A more worthy name than that of Sir Thomas Gresham does not adorn the page of English history. BORN CIRC. A. D. 1513. — DIED A. D. 1571. Sir Nicholas Throckmorton, the fourth son of Sir George Throckmorton, an ofiicer of Henry the Eighth's household, was born about the year 1513. While yet a boy he became attached to the duke of Richmond's suite in the quality of page, and he accompanied his master and the earl of Surrey in their mission to France. In 1544, he commanded a troop in the expedition against France, and acquitted himself to Henry's satisfaction. On the death of Henry he attached himself to the queen-dowager, which introduced him to the princess Elizabeth's notice. In 1547 he served in the Scottish campaign, and greatly distinguished himself at the battle of Pinkey. The protector sent him to London with the news of that victory, and soon after this he was knighted, and obtained an office in the privy chamber. He appears to have stood well with Edward VI.; but, having embraced the protestant doctrines in early life, the accession of Mary threw a cloud over his fortunes, and within a few months afterwards, he was arrested and sent to the Tower, on a charge of being accessary to Wyatt's rebel- lion. Never did the ingratitude of Mary appear in darker colours than in ordering the arrest of Sir Nicholas : for, protestant as he was, he had a great veneration for legitimacy, and was the very first to com- municate to Mary the plans of Northumberland for the proclamation of Lady Jane Grey. In concert with his brother, he despatched Mary's goldsmith to Hunsden, where that princess then was, with the news of Edward's death. She at first hesitated to rely implicitly upon the in- telligence, especially on being informed that it was Sir Nicliolas who brought the news from Greenwich, remarking, that if Sir Robert — meaning his elder brother, who was a zealous papist — had been here, "she would have gaged her life upon the truth of it." We have already detailed the jiarticulars of Wyatt's insurrection. Sir Nicholas was committed to the tower on the ilOih of February, 1554, and on the 17th of April was brought to trial at Guildhall in London. There seems little doubt that he sympathized with, an:! even Pkriod.] sir NICHOLAS TIIROCKMOUTON. 589 afibnlod direct cncounigpinciit and assisfance to tlio irisurf^cnts ;' but lie dofeinlcd hiinsc^lt' on his trial with so inucli boldness and dexterity tiuit Ju! was accjiiitted by the jury. lie was remanded, iiowever, to the Tow( r, and remained in custody till tlie IBtli of January, 1555, wlien he obtained his release alon<^ with several other state-prisoners, at tiie solicitation of King Phiii}), mIio sought to gain the; favour of" his (jueen's sub'n'cts by this and other acts of leniency. Soon alter his discharge, Throckmorton went into France, where he became intimately acquainted with Sir James Melvil, the coididential adviser of Mary of Scotland, who speaks of him as his "oldest and dearest friend by long acquaintance," and says, " he wa^ a devout friend to the queen, my mistress, and to her right and title to the suc- cession to the crown of England." At the close of the year 155(5, 'riu'ockmorton returned to England, and paid his court, but secretly, to the princess Elizabeth, who reposea much confidence in him, and employed him, on the report of IVIary's death, to ascertain its truth — a piece of service which he faithfully and dexterously performed, and for w Inch he was rewarded with the office of chief butler, no very lucra- tive appointment. Elizabeth found in him, however, a faithful and bold counsellor. He strenuously opj)osed the retaining of several zealous catholics, who had formed part of Mary's council, in their office of privy councillors. The queen, irritated at the freedom with which Throckmorton expressed his sentiments on this point, is said to have exclaimed, " God's death, villain, I will have thy head !" To whicli passionate threat he coolly replied, " You will do well, Madam, to con- sider first how long you will then be able to keep your own on your siioulders." Elizabetli, on reflection, saw the unreasonableness of her warmth and the force of Throckmorton's observation, and not long af- terwards evinced her confidence in him by despatching him as her am- l)assador to France, in 1559, in which character he remained at tiie French court till 1563. His diplomatic correspondence during this period has been published, and displays considerable tact and shrewd- ness on the part of the aml)assador. Secretary Cecil placed a high value on his services ; but a short time before Throckmorton's return to England a misunderstanding occurred betwixt the and^assador and secretary, which determined the former to attach himself to the earl of Leicester's party. In 1565, he was sent into Scotland to oppose Mary's projected mar- riage with Darnley, and encourage the earl of Murray's party in tfuur opposition to that measure. On the imprisonment of Mary at Loch- leven, in 1567, he was again sent into Scotland to negotiate for her release, and Melvil declares, that of all the English ambassadors, Throckmorton " dealt most honestly and plainly, for he shot at the union of the whole isle in one monarchy."^ Whatever his merits were in these services, they were not adequately rewarded in his own apprc hension, and he assumed the air and bearing of an ill-used man to sucb a degree, tiiat ' weazen-faced Throckmorton ' became a bye-word at court. In 1569, when the intrigue for a marriage between the queen of Scots and the duke of Norfolk was discovered, Throckmorton was ' Sou Criminal Trials in Lihrnri/ of Entertninitig Knowledge, vul. i. p. 55. ' MuiiKiirs, p. 6l>. 590 POLITICAL SERIES. [Fourth sctit to the Tower on suspicion of being concerned in it. He was soon afterwards discharged ; but he never regained Elizabeth's favour. His disap25ointments preyed deeply upon his spirits, and he died within a few months after his liberation, in the house of the earl of Leicester, ou the 12th of February, 1571, Fuller hints that he was poisoned by Leicester, ' no mean artist in that faculty ;' but the suspicion is no*, borne out by any adequate evidence. Cj&omas, Mnkt of Norfolk. BORN A. D. I5o6. — i;iv;d a. u. 1572. Thomas Howard, duke of Norfolk, was the eldest son of the cari of Surrey. He succeeded to the title and estates of his grandfather, the third duke of Norfolk, in August, 1554. After the death of his father he was placed under the care of his aunt, the duchess of Rich- mond, who appointed Fox, the marfyrologist, his preceptor. Under such tuition, the young Norfolk imbibed die principles of tlie Reforma- tion ; and it is recorded to his praise, that he never forgot what he owed to his venerable and pious preceptor-. On Elizabeth's accession, he was made a privy councillor, and honoured with the garter; and in 1359, he was appointed lieutenant-general of the north, a situation of peculiar trust and importance in these tunes. The discerning Cecil thus expresses the opinion he had formed of the duke in relation to this office : " Surely, I think, his grace will as discreetly, as honour- ably, as powerfully execute the commission, as any that hath gone be- fore him. One notable quality he hath wherein is great commenda- tion ; he will do nothing almost of any moment in his private causes, but upon advice ; which property shall be most convenient for this charge." Cecil was at this time secretly assisting the lords of the con- gregation against the queen-regent of Scotland ; and the quality he here praises in Norfolk peculiarly fitted the duke for bearing his part as lord of the marches in the negotiation with the Scottish party. At the time of Mary's flight into England, after the battle of Lang- side, the duke of Norfolk was the most powerful and popular nobleman in England. His rank as premier peer, his relationship to the queen and the favour in which he stood with her majesty, his personal qua- lities of munificence and affability, his connexion by blood with some of the first catholic families, and tiie confidence which his known prin- ciples induced the protestant party to repose in him, — all conspiretl to make him the first man in the state ; and accordingly he was treated with the highest deference by both parties. It is difficult now to trace tlie origin of the sch(!me of a marriage be- tween the duke and the queen of Scotland. On the appointnu at of the commission for the purpose of hearing and detennining the alleged matters of grievance betwixt Mary and her subjects, Norfolk was placed at the head of it. His duchess had died during the preceding year; and Mary had been for some tnne under the surveillance oi Lady Scvope, the duke's sister, at Bolton. The bishop of Ros&e. on his examination, declared that the scheme had been first suggested to Mary herself in a conununication from the duke, pieviously to her Tesiod.] THOMAS, DUKE OF NOKFOLK. 591 grunting lu>r final assent to the connnisslon. Tlie conferences at Vntk commenced on tlie 4tli of October, 15G8. Murray declares that [iro- posals were made to hun by Norfolk for the suppression of all docu- ments wiiich might go to establish Mary's partici|)ation in the murde of Darnley, and that it was urged upon him, in reference to this point, that any undue exposure of Mary might be j)reju(lici;d to her son's in- terests, on whom the eyes of a considerable party were now set as the destined successor of Elizabeth on the throne of England. Tlu! duke, on his trial, strenuously denied the truth of this stati-ment, but Melvii declares that the reg(>nt imparted to him the substance of his commu- nication with the duke the same night. Whether or not these secret dealings were discovered or suspected by Elizabeth, measures wi-re soon afterwards adopted which removed Mary from the influence of Norfolk or his agents. She herself was transferred from the charge of Lord Scrope to the custody of the earl of Slirewsbury, and the seat ol the commission was removed from York to London; while the duke was despatched on military affairs to the northern marches. On Norfolk's return to court, Elizabeth exhibited manifest signs of dissatis faction towards him ; but the duke introduced the subject of his ru- moured marriage with Mary himself, and affected to treat the whole as an idle and unfounded rumour. In the meantime, Murray delivered up the evidences which he possessed of Mary's connexion with Both- well, chieiiy consisting of those letters and sonnets whose genuineness has been since disputed with so much diligence of historical investiga- tion and shrewdness of argument. Soon after the production of these papers the conference closed, and Elizabeth signified her determination to give no final judgment in the nuitt(>r. Norfolk beheld the failure of his scheme, through Murray's breach of promise, with nmch indigna- tion ; and the bishop of Rosse, in his declaration, affirms, that for a lime Norfolk was privy to and encouraged a plan to intercept and as- sassinate the regent on his return home. Early in the year 1569, the proposal for the marriage of the duke with the queen of Scots was publicly entertained by a very powerful jmrty of the English nobility ; and a letter was written to Mary by tlie earls of Leicester, Arundel, and Pcnnbroke, urging her consent to the measure, as calculated to secure the peace and well-being of both king- doms, in the event of Elizabeth's death without issue. To this com- munication Mary returned a favourable answer ; and a formal contract of marriage was drawn up and signed, and deposited with Fenelon the French ambassador. These arrangements wei'e made unknown to Eli- /.aheth, but Leicester engaged to take the first favourable opportunity of breaking the matter to her. It was not till the month of August, that the first rumour of this intrigue was conveyed to Elizabeth by some of her ladies. Leicester, shortly afterwards, revealed the whole transaction to her, and obtained her forgiveness for the part which he had taken in it. The first intimation which Elizabeth gave the duke of her acquaintance v.ith his designs, was conveyed to him in the sig- nificant hint from her own lips, " to beware on what pillow he rested his head." The duke instantly took the alarm, and retired to Ken- ninghall in Norfolk ; but a peremptory summons commanded his pre- sence at court ; aud on the 9th of October, he was connnitted to the Tower. Eli/.abetii would have at tiv^t precipitated his trial ; but t!ie cool and cautious Cecil succeeded in satisfying her of the impolicy of this. " If the duke," said he, " shall be charged with the crime of treason, and shall not be thereof convicted, he sliall not only save but increase his credit. And surely, without his facts may appear manifest within the compass of treason (which I cannot see how they can), he shall be acquitted of that charge ; and better it were in the beginning to foresee tlie matter, than to attempt it with discredit, and not without suspicion of evil will and malice." The want of sufficient evidence to convict the duke of treason, and the good offices of Cecil, finally pro- cured the duke's liberation from the Tower, but he soon afterwards en- gaged himself in more treasonable practices. In February, 1570, the plan of an embassy to the duke of Alva, the pope, and the king of Spain, was suggested by the queen of Scots, and conununicated by the liishop of Rosse to the duke of Norfolk. The duke, it was declared by Rosse and Barber in their examination, as- sented to the scheme, which Avas nothing less than a proposal to form an alliance with the foreign powers just mentioned, and the catholic party of England, in support of the queen of Scots. The fact of a secret correspondence with foreign powers was early discovered, but the council were for a time baffled in their efforts to discover the trai- tors. At last the detection of a letter in cipher from Hickford, tlie duke's secretary, and the subsequent confessions and revelation of Hickford, and Barber, another confident of the duke's, led to the arrest of Norfolk himself. Abundant matter for a charge of high treason was soon collected against him, and on the 16th of January, 1572, he was tried and pronounced guilty by his peers. Elizabeth manifested great reluctance, real or feigned, to consent to his execution ; but, after four months delay, the fatal warrant was at last issued ; and on the 3d of June, 1572, the duke was executed on Tower-hill. He acknowledged the justness of his sentence upon the scaffold, and met his death with becoming fortitude. " It is incredible," saj's Camden, " how much the people loved him ; whose good-will he had gained by a munificence and extraordinary affability suitable to so great a prince. The wiser sort of men were variously affected ; some were terrified at the great- ness of the danger, which, during his life, seemed to threaten the state from him and his faction. Others were moved with pity towards him, as one very nobly descended, of an extraordinary good nature, comeiy personage, and manly presence, who might have been both a support and ornament to his country, had not the crafty wiles of the envious, and his own false hopes, led on with a show of doing the public ser- vice, diverted him from his first course of life. They called likewise to mind the untimely end of his father, a man of extraordinary learning, and famous in war, who was beheaded in the same place five and twen- ty years before." A very accurate report of the duke's trial has been got up from various sources by the editor of the ' Criminal Trials,' in that most meritorious publication, ' The Library of Entertaining Know- ledge.' Period.] ROBERT DUDLEY, EARL OF LEICESTER. i>'J3 2aol)cit iDuQln), (L*nil of Leicester. KoitN A. 1). I5[i'2. — i)ii;i» A. i>. I.i8a. This nobleman \v;is the son of John Dudley, created duke of Noi-tliuinberland by Henry VIII. He was born alujut 1532. Wiien his father was executed tor high treason, in attempting to set aside Mary, for the laily Jane Grey, who had married his son, Lord Guild- ford Dudley, Robert, with the rest of the lainily, suffered from the dis- plccisure of the dominant party, and, being included in an act of at- tainder, was condemned to sutter d(!ath. That penalty, however, was not indicted ; and, in the year 1558, an act passed to reverse the attainder, and Robert, with his brother Ambrose, was restored to liis titles and possessions. He was, after this, frecjuently employed by Mary in diplomatic business. Under the succeeding reign of Elizabeth, however, he rapidly ad- vanced in preferment. That queen bestowed on him sj)ecial marks of favour, first appointing him master of the horse ; and, soon after, causing him — to the surprise of the public — to be installed kniglit of the garter. Scandalous reports wen; whispered and believed at home: in' fcjreign courts it was openly said that they lived tog(^ther in adulterous intercourse. Dudley had married the daughter and heiress of Sir John Robesart, but that lady was not permitted to appear at court: her lord allotted for her residence a lonely mansion called Cumnor, in Berkshire, where she suddenly e states quarrelled with the earl, and he hastily returned to England at the conmiand of the queen to assist her in the important affair of the queen of Scots. On his return, the earl instantly regained his influence with the queen, and, instead of punishment, met with o9G ' POLITICAL SERIES. [Fodrt(, reward, being installed lord-steward of the household, and chief justice in Eyre soutli of the Trent. During the absence of Leicester from Belgium, a party had been foi nied against him, and the States proceeded to the appointment of another head, in the person of Maurice, son of the late prince of Orange. .Leicester, however, speedily found means to annul this proceeding by tlie influence which he had gained in the Netherlands over the reformed clergy. He had frequented their worship, — prayed, fasted, and received the sacrament with them, — and, on every occasion, had avowed a deter- mination to extirpate popery, and to establish the gospel. Elizabeth filt the affront offered to her favourite as offered to herself, and the Lord Buckhurst was despatched to signify her displeasure. By his exertions matters were acconmiodated, and the fury of the people was appeased by a promise that Leicester should immediately return. The queen, however, not wishing to protract the war with Spain, would have preferred that Leicester should remain at home, and that the contest should gradually subside. The earl, on the contrary, with his friends in the council, urged the continuation of the war. The conduct of Admiral Drake towards the Spaniards having provoked still greater hostilities, the States pressed the queen most urgently for the fulfilment of her promise, and at length Leicester took his departure for Holland, with a large sum of money, and a reinforcement of 5000 men. A misunderstanding, however, soon arose between the earl and the States, who accused the queen, his mistress, with avarice, in wish- ing to sell them to the king of Spain for a stipulated sum sufficient to defray the past expenses of the war. This charge, thougli unfounded and improbable, was circulated through the country, and the earl, from having been the idol, became, in a few days, the execration of the people. Mutual recriminations ensued, and the quarrel went such a length that Leicester lost ground with the queen. She believed that he had neglected her instructions, and sought chiefly his own aggran- dizement ; and when Farnese complained that the queen had no real desire for peace, she laid the blame, first on the negligence, and then on the ambition of Leicester. He was, therefore, recalled ; and, on his arrival, aware of his danger, threw himself at her feet, and con- jured her to have pity on her former favourite. " She had sent him to the Netherlands with honour, — would she receive him back in disgrace? She had raised him from the dust, — would she now bury him alive?" The appeal moved the heart of the queen, and Leicester was prepared for the summons on the following morning to appear before the council. There, instead of kneeling at the foot of the table, he took his accus- tomed seat ; and, when the secretary began to read the charges which had been prepared, he arose, inveighed against the baseness and per- fidy of his calumniators, and appealed from the prejudices of his equals to the equity of his sovereign. The members gazed on each other ; the secretary passed to the ordinary business of the dav, and the Lord Buckhurst, the accuser, was ordered to consider himself a prisoner in liis own house. Thus restored to his place in the affections of the queen and the wuncils of the nation, when the Spanish armada threatened England, the earl was appointed to the command of an army for tlie protection i)f the capital. These forces lay at Tilbury on the Thames, and thf^ Peuiod.] sir HUMPHREY GIT.BERT. 597 (]ueen talked of appoarinj; at tlicir head, and animating tlioni in battio b}' Iicr preseiiee. To t.liis proposal Leieester oI)jcete his companion in this expedition. The largest vessel was compelled to put back, a virulent disease having broken out on board. August .'id, Sir Humphrey disembarked at Newfoundland, and, two days afUr lii:^ arrival, took ibnnal possession of the harbour of St .John's. He im- mediately availed himself of the queen's patent, and parcelled out con- siderable portions of the new territory to such of his followers as chose to take them. None of them thought it prudent to brave the horrors of that iidiospitable region at that time. But cis several of them re- turned and settled on tlieir new jiossessions. Sir Humphrey is undoubt- edly entitled to the honour of being considered the founder of this j)or- tion of our American possessions. This was not the great object, how- ever, with which either Sir Humjihrey Gilbert or any of the other enterprising navigators of that day fitted out their expeditions, and sought, amidst so much peril, the unknown regions of the west. Their numediate object was gold. The discover}'^ of America has, it is true, irjcalculably enriched Europe, but not in the way Columbus and his successors imagined. To them, the vast tracts of fertile country, and the encouragement to be afforded to navigation and commerce, were as nothing. It was what was beneath the surface that they sought; all else was comparatively worthless. The success of sordid, avaricious Spain, had stimulated the cupidity of all the other European nations, and no adventurer left the ))orfs of England who did not dream of El- dorado and the sudden acquisition of boundless wealth. In conformity with the s})irit of tiie age, Sir Humphrey had taken out with him a Saxon miner. He soon professed to have discovered a rich silver mine on the coast. To convince Sir Humphrey, he showed some ore which he had ilug up. Elated with hopes of his success. Sir Humphrey said he did not doubt of being able to obtain from Elizabeth ten thousand pounds for another and larger expedition the next year, knowing that he was secure of his mistress's smiles, if he did but gratify her avarice. These hopes, however, were soon most painfully dissipated. His largest ves- sel was lost in a storm ; his miner perished with her, and only twelve of the crew were saved. On the 20th of August, he embarked in a small sloop, for the purpose of exploring the coast. Soon after he steered homewariL but could not be persuaded to desert the little ves- sel in which he had faced so many dangers. On the 9th of Septem- ber, when the bark was labouring in a most tempestuous sea, he was seen by the crew of his remaining ship, sitting with a book in his hand in the stern of the vessel, and was heard to exclaim, " Courage, my lads I v/e are as near heaven at sea as on land." About midnight she foundered ; and the gallant Sir Humphrey and his crew perished. We have already spoken of his character. At the close of the trea- tise to which we have already referred, mention is nuide of another * On Navigation,' which he intended to publish. It is now in all pro- bability lost. He well deserves a name amongst the benefactors of his countr}', since the important colony of Newfoundland, whose tisiieries have beeu ^o valuable to us, owes its establishment to his entejin-ise. GOO POLITICAL SERIES. [Eomnn DIED A. D. 1590. Sir Fkancis Walsingham was born in tlie early part of tlie sixteenth century, at Chislehurst in Kent, of an ancient and hr)n- ourable family from Walsingham in Norfolk. His education was first conducted by a domestic tutor in his father's house, and at a suitable age he was entered at King's college, Cambridge. After passing the usual period at college, and completing his education he took an extensive tour among foreign nations. During the reign of Queen Mary, he continued to reside abroad, to prosecute his studies, and to make himself acquainted with every thing in the policy of foreign nations which might fit him to be serviceable to his own country. He became distinguished for his knowledge of the learned languages, as well as those of modern Europe ; but more especially for the skilful and eloquent use he made of his own. Soon after the ac- cession of Queen Elizabeth, he returned to his native country, rich in all those accomplishments which might fit him to occupy a distinguish- ed station in the court of that high-minded princess. His talents for business soon recommended him to the queen's secretary, Cecil, who gave him his first employment as an ambassador to the court of France, (luring one of the most interesting and turbulent periods of its history. Distinguished as he was, however, by sagacity anil caution, he was deceived by the execrable Charles the Ninth and his mother, and gained no foresight of those cruel and infernal plots which issued in the horii- ble massacre of St Bartholomew. He continued in this post till the year 1573, discharging his duties with exemplary fidelity, diligence and caution. His prudence and skill procured him the praise of Wicque- fbrt, the distinguished critic of diplomacy, though it may be thought that he carried the arts of subtlety and decej^tion somewhat beyond the bounds of honour and truth. Dr Lloyd says. " his head was so strong, that he could look into the depths of men and business, and dive into the whirlpools of state. Dexterous he was in finding a secret, close in keeping it. His conversation was insinuating and reserved ; he saw every man, and none saw him. He would say, he must observe the joints arxl flexures of affairs ; and so do more with a story, than others could with an harangue. He always surprised business, and preferred motions in the heat of other diversions ; and if he must de- l)ate it, he would hear all. The Spanish proverb was familiar with him, ' Tell a lie, and find a truth ;' and this, ' Speak no more than you may safely retreat from without danger, or fairly go through with without opposition.' " Upon his return he stood high in the queen's favour, and in 1373, was sworn of the privy council, endowed with the honour of knighthood, and appointed one of the principal secretaries of state. One of his chief engagements consisted in watching, detecting, and de- feating all plots against the queen's person and government. Few mi- nisters of state were ever so well-cjualified for this office, or ever dis charged it with more ability and success. He employed a great num- ber of agents as spiois both at home and abroad. The Jesuits were the principal party whom he had to watch. He overmatched them with Period.] SIR FRANCIS WALSINGHAM. 601 their own weapons, drawinj^ out and detecting all their inaehination? while lie seemed to be the dujje of them. Ho made himself acquainted with all letters which passed between the enemies of the government, witiiout breaking their seals, or seeming even to know of their exis- tence. He practised with great success tlie art of weaving plots in which the seditious were effectually entangled. Sometimes he would allow a plot to proceed for many years together, admitting treasonable conspirators to a liigh degree of familiarity both with himself and the queen, until their guilt was ripe for detection, when he either spared them upon an humble submission, or made them examples and warnings unto others. In the year 1381, he was employed by the queen in the delicate and difficult affair of negotiating a marriage for her with the duke of An- jou. But after the exercise of all his patience and all his diplomatic subtlety, he had the mortification of seeing his efforts frustrated bv her royal coquetry. Upon his return he was despatched to the court of Scotland for the purpose of informing his mistress of the young king's character and abilities. Walsingham was admitted to much la- niiliar intercourse with him, and formed a very favourable opinion of his capacity for government. Soon after this embassy, his aptness at detecting plots against the queen's person was called into exercise by the Babington conspiracy. As soon as he had gained information of tlie existence of such a plot, his next step was effectually to entangle the conspirators. He engaged spies, who insinuated themselves into the confidence of the acting parties. He then became master of all their proceedings, a,nd chose his own opportunity for seizing their per- sons. This plot produced much alarm throughout the kingdom, and was the means of sealing the fate of Mary, queen of Scots.^ The queen, upon her trial, intimated that Walsingham had probably forged some of the letters produced against her; but, on hearing it, Walsingham rose, and most solenmly disavowed the charge, and in so convincing a manner, that the queen ottered an apology to him for having indulged such a sus- picion. Upon the unhappy end of the queen of Scotland, when the re- sentment of her son, and of Scotland generally, broke out against Eliza- beth and the English nation, Walsingham penned a wise and interesting letter to Lord Thirlestone, James's secretary, showing by many irresisti- ble arguments, the impolicy of fomenting the enmity of the two nations against each other, and the unfavourable influence it must have upon the king of Scotland's eventual succession to the English throne. In short, he proved, tluit to make such a breach must inevitably create an impassable gulph between the king and the highest object of his own and of the nation's hopes. This letter was attended with the desired effect: an amicable intercourse was soon after restored between the courts, and all idea of hostile measures on the part of James aban- doned. Walsingham was heartily attached to the protestant cause, and en- deavoured to remove the church of England as far as possible from ' Walsingham has been charged with tlie guilt of endeavouring to elVcct the murder of that unfortunate princess privately. The authority on which he has been so charged is a letter addressed by him to Sir Amias Poulet, and signed I)y himself and Davidson. iJut there are reasons to suspect the genuineness of that letter, and Walsingham is. moreover, well known to have strenuously opposed so infamous an act when it wrs proposed by the earl of Leices;er. 4 G * G02 POLITICAL SERIES. [Fourth popery He believed religion to be the highest interest of his country, and to its promotion he devoted his heart, his head, and his purse. He has the honour of having sustained and cemented the protestant cause in times of its greatest peril, and of having effectually ruined the inte- rests of popery by detecting and baffling all its plots. His firm attach- ment to protestantism inclined him to favour and countenance the pu- ritans, on account of their zeal against popery, when the queen and others about the court would have employed the harshest measures against them. In 1586, he founded a divinity lecture at Oxford, the object of which was to discuss the principal doctrines of Christianity as taught in the sacred Scriptures, and opposed by the church of Rome. This lecture he endowed with the revenue of some lands granted to him by the queen, from the vacant see of Oxford. Lloyd says, " he first ob- served the great bishop of Winchester fit to serve the church, upon the unlikely youth's first sermon at Allhallows, Barking. He brought the Lord Cooke first to the church upon some private discourse with him at his table. He could as well fit King James's humour with sajungs out of Xenophon. Thucydides, Piutarch, Tacitus, as he could King Henry's with Rabelais's conceits, and the Hollander with mechanic dis- courses. In a word. Sir Francis Walsingham was a studious and tem- perate man ; so public-spirited, that he spent his estate to serve the kingdom ; so faithful, that he bestowed his years on his queen ; so learned, that he provided a library for King's college of his own books, which was the best for policy, as Cecil's was for history, Arundel's for heraldry. Cotton's for antiquities, and Usher's for divinity. Finally, he equalled all the statesmen former ages discoursed of, and hardly hath been equalled by any in following ages." In his advanced age, he retired from the active duties of public life, and enjoyed the learned, quiet, and calm repose of his country resi- dence. In 1589, he entertained Queen Elizabeth at Barn Elms. Be- fore this period, however, he had felt the infirmities of advancing age, and withdrew to that retirement which so well-befitted him after the long and busy life he had passed in courts and cabinets. He died, April, 1590, but so much in debt, that it was found desirable to bury him by night in St Paul's, lest his body should be arrested. As it is well-known that he was far from extravagance and luxury in his mode of living, his debts must be ascribed to his zeal in the public cause, and possibly to the entertainment he had given the queen only a year be- fore his death. The system of espionage which he found it prudent or even necessary to keep up was most probably at his own expense ; for, in that frugal age, patriotism and public service were often left to reward themselves, or to feed upon the magnanimity out of which they sprang. He left behind an only daughter, who was successively married to Sir Philip Sidney, the earl of Essex, and the earl of Clanricarde, by all of whom she had children. A work, entitled, ' Arcana Aulica. or Walsingham's Manual of Prudential Maxims for the Statesman and Courtier,' has been ascribed to him, but its authenticity has never been established. His despatches and negotiations during his residence at the court of France, were collected and published in folio, in 1655, by Sir Dudley Digges. Period.j sm cimiSToniEK hatton. go i ^(r Cjiictop^er Ration* DIED A. U. 1591. This minister of Queen Elizabeth was the youngest son of William Hatton, of HoUlenby, Hants. He entered at St Mary hall, Oxford, and thereafter at the Inner Temple. During his residence at the latter, he ap- peared at court. At a masque, where he danced in presence of Elizabeth, he attracted her attention by his figure and performance ; and from this occasion we have to date his course of political advancement, which, however, appears to have failed of putting a final termination to his ex- hibitions in the dance. He became a queen's pensioner, and thereafter was created successively, gentleman of the privy-chamber, captain of the guard, vice-chamberlain, and privy-councillor. We find him tak- ing an active part, while vice-chamberlain, in the trial of Dr William Parry for high treason, which occurred in 1583. He was not satisfied that judgment should pass immediately on Parry's confession. " These matters," said he, " contained in this indictment, and confessed by this man, are of great importance ; they touch the person of the queen's majesty in the highest degree, the very state and well-being of the whole commonwealth, and the truth of God's word established in her majesty's dominions ; and they contain the open demonstration of that capital envy of the man of Rome, that hath set himself against God and godliness, all good princes, good governments, and good men. Where- fore, I pray you, for the satisfaction of this great multitude, let the whole truth appear, that every one may see that the matter of itself is as bad as the indictment purporteth, and as the prisoner hath confes- sed." ^ The court accordingly proceeded with the cause, and the vice- chamberlain took a special part in the examination of the prisoner. This trial afforded him an opportunity of paying the following compliment to the queen : — " It was a wonder to see the magnanimity of her ma- jesty, which, after that thou hadst opened those traiterous practices in sort as thou hast laid it down in thy confession, was, nevertheless, such, and so far from all fear, as that she would not so much as acquaint any one of her highness's privy-council with it, to ray knowledge ; no, not until after this thy enterprise discovered and made manifest. And besides that which thou hast set down under thine own hand, thou didst confess that thou hadst prepared two Scottish daggers, fit for such a purpose ; and those being disposed away by thee, thou didst say that another would serve thy turn. And, withal. Parry, didst thou not also confess before us, how wonderfully thou wert appalled and per- plexed upon a sudden, at the presence of her majesty at Hampton- court, this last summer, saying, that thou didst think thou then sawest in her the very likeness and image of King Henrj'^ VIII ? " ^ Whether Hatton's professed admiration of Elizabeth materially influ- enced his farther elevation may be but matter of conjecture — but, in 1587, on the death of Bromley, he was raised to the oHice of lord-chan- cellor. In his course of aggrandisement, he had been subjected, as ' Ci-iniiiial Trials, ( Library of Entertavnng Knowledge,) vol. i. p. 254. * Ibid. p. 268. GO-L POLITICAL SEKIES. [Foukth may well be supposed, to hostility at court. It is recorded of Leices- ter, Elizabeth's unworthy favourite, that, when Sir Christopher was ill, and the queen paid him a daily visit, the earl endeavoured to supplant the man on whom she was showering such condescending kindness, in favour of Edward Dyer, who had given offence at court. Even Hat- ton's appointment to the chancellorship has been represented as a scheme supported by his enemies in order to involve him in disgrace ; and it is stated, that, at first, the sergeants refused to plead at his bar. There seems reason, indeed, to suppose that he had but imperfectly studied law, and this deficiency might appear to us sufficient of itself to have disqualified him for the high and responsible office of lord-chan- cellor, did we not attend to a distinction between its present functions and those which, it is probable, belonged to it then. Miss Aiken re- marks,"^ " It was only since the reformation that this great office had begun to be filled by common-law lawyers : before this period it was usually exercised by some ecclesiastic who was also a civilian ; and instances were not rare of the seals having been held in commission by noblemen during considerable intervails : — facts which, in justice to Hatton and to Elizabeth, ought, on this occasion, to be kept in mind." Indeed, the office seems anciently to have been one of equity, rather in the sense of absolute justice, than in that of right, as determined by legal rules or manifold precedents.* Prudence and good sense may go far to conquer difficulties that might seem to require far higher faculties to overcome them. Hat- ton took two sergeants to advise him in cases that came before liira, and he gave public satisfaction as lord-chancellor, although it seems that, at first, on the queen's expressing dissatisfaction with her own nomination, he offered to resign. Another mark of royal favour for Sir Christopher is a letter to the bishop of Ely, already quoted in the ' Life of Elizabeth,' in which she calls on the prelate to stand by an agreement he had made. The engagement referred to was the giv- ing up a garden and orchard connected with Ely-house, in the neigh- bourhood of Holborn. On the prelate refusing, Hatton prosecuted him in chancery, gained his suit, and built on the place a magnificent house encompassed with gardens, the memorial of which many of our readers may recognise in that part of London known by the name of Hatton-Garden. That the chancellor was somewhat covetous of pro- perty belonging, or supposed to belong, to the church, seems not un- likely, from a similar incident recorded of him by Sir John Harring- ton.^ Yet he appears to have been a moderate, prudent, and sensible man. He supported the church of England, and discouraged the Puritans, but was opposed to the rigid enforcement of certain statutes lately passed against the Roman Catholics. He was also a man of ^ Court of Elizabeth, vol. ii. p. 205. * Equity, in the acneptation in which that word is used in Eiigh'sh jurisprudence," says Sir J. Mackintosh," (Life of Sir T. More) " is no longer to be confounded with that moral equity which generally corrects the unjust operation of law, and with which it seems to have been synonymous in the days of Selden and Bacon." In conformity with this view, it may be remarked, that we do not observe legal knoickdge to be repre- sented by the duke of Norfolk, as one of Moie's qualifications for the office of lord- chancellor, in the eloquent speecli which he delivered at Sir Thomas's instalment, as given in the life of that eminent man, by More and Mackintosh. * Brief View of the Church of England. Period.] SIR JOHN PERROT. 605 some literary attainments. Warton supposes him to have written part of a drama, composed by five students of tiie Inner Temple, entitled ♦Tancred and Sigismunda,' ^' of which the fourth act lias this inscription at th(! cnd—Co//iposuit Ch. //uL—ii.nd, from the circumstance that part of the queen's translation of a tragedy, preserved in MSS. in the Bodlein library, at Oxford, is in his autograph, a female biographer of Eliza- beth ■^ infers, that he probably assisted her in her literary pursuits. He has also been supposed to be (he author of ' A treatise concerning Statutes or Acts of Parliament, and the expression thereof.' For two or three years before his death, he was vice-chancellor of Oxford, where he did much for the improvement of the university. He died in 1591, after a considerably protracted illness. His death was attri- buted to a broken heart, occasioned by the queen's severity in de- manding certain sums received by him as tithes and first-fruits, which he was unable to pay. Whether there is truth in this explanation of his death it seems impossible to ascertain with certainty ; but the queen paid him great attention in his illness, and remitted to his heir, her claims against the chancellor's estate. #11* Boijn Perrot. DIED A. D. 1592. CoMJiON report, as well as personal resemblance, gave Sir John Perrot, sometime deputy of Ireland, Henry VIII. for a father. Whether the popular rumour was correct or not in this instance, Sir Jolm resembled his alleged jfurent in some other points besides those merely external ; his temper was as haughty and violent, and his language equally coarse and abusive. The family from which he derived his name and property was settled at Haroldtone in Pembrokeshire. In 1572, Sir John greatly distinguished himself against the Munster rebels ; and, as lord-deputy of Ireland, some years after, he exhibited a policy at once humane and prudent, in checking as much as possible the tyranny which the English settlers exercised towards the natives of that country, and extending his protection to the natives. His proposal to apply the revenues of St Patrick's cathedral to the purposes of general education in Ireland raised the clergy against him, and by means of forged documents his enemies succeeded in representing him to Elizabeth as a man of deep and dangerous enterprises, who aimed at nothing less than securing the sovereignty of Ireland for himself. His own hasty and rash temper lent considerable support to their representatives ; and at length in 1592, he was put upon his trial for high treason. The heads of the indictment were : his contemptuous language respecting the queen, — his secret encouragement of the Spanish invasion, — and generally his favouring of traitors. Of the first only of these charges could he be proved guilty with any show of reason and justice, but an obsequious jury found him guilty of all. On leaving the bar, he is re- ported to have exclaimed, " God's death ! will the queen sufFer her ' This drama is given in Dodsley's Old Plavs, 2d edit. ' Miss Aike.n, Court of Elizabeth, vol. ii. V- 288. 606 POLITICAL SERIES. ITourtp brother to be sacrificed to the envy of his gossiping adversaries ?" The queen seems to have felt the force of the appeal, and delayed the issuing of the warrant for his execution. But in September, 1592, this vic- tim of malice perished in the Tower under the joint influence o< a broken heart and constitution. BORN A.D. 1520 DIED A. D. 1395. This renowned naval commander was born at Plymouth about the year 1520. He was descended of a respectable family in Devonshire, and was the son of Captain William Hawkins. Young John was early in- troduced to a seafaring life, and evinced an ardent attachment to it. His youth was spent principally in voyages to Spain and Portugal and the Canary islands. These voyages were mainly devoted to com- mercial purposes, and designed to extend the trade of England. By the experience thereby gained, Hawkins became qualified for more en- larged plans and bolder enterprizes. Unhappily, however, these plans were not always projected with a due respect for honour and justice. In 1562, he led the" way in the lucrative but infamous traffic in slaves. Having induced some English merchants to embark with him in this enterprize, he fitted out several vessels, with which he repaired to the coast of Guinea. There he contrived, partly by purchase and partly by violence, to obtain a cargo of human beings to the amount of three hundred, which he took immediately to Hispaniola and disposed of in an unlawful traffic. Success and extensive gains made him still bolder and more rapacious. In 1564, he returned to the Guinea coast with a larger force of men and shipping. Carrying on his kidnapping enterprize to greater extent, he lost some of his men, but still obtained a large number of Negroes, for which he again found a ready market, and obtained a high price. Those brutal proceedings, instead of kindling the indignation of his countrymen, rather conduced to spread abroad his fame, and to draw the admiring eyes of the world upon the bold and suc- cessful commander who had thus shown a new and speedy way to riches.^ In 1567, he proceeded upon a third expedition, having under his com- mand two of the queen's ships and four of private owners. Having obtained by purchase and violence four hundred slaves, he proceeded to Spanish America, but on his arrival at Rio de la Flacha, the governor re- fused to have any traffic with him. Without farther ceremony he landed and took the town, and was thereby enabled to dispose of his Negroes to the inhabitants. At this period the Spaniards were at peace with England, but disputed the right of free trade which England claimed. Hawkins, however, asserted the rights of his country with great vigoui and spirit.- From this port he sailed to Carthagena, and there disposed of the remainder of his slaves, but on his voyage back was overtaken by a • It will appear in the present age a singular proof of the barbarism of those times, tliat even an armorial distinction should be sought for the man who brought so foul a lilol on the escutcheon of his country. A crest of arms was granted him by patent, con- sisting of a demy-moor in his proper colour, bound with a cord — a fit and worthy sym- bol of the inhuman feats which had emblazoned the name of Hawkins. Pbkiou.] sir JOHN HAWKINS. 607 storm in the bay of Mexico, and drivcii into the Iiarljoiir of" St Juan do Ulloa. He entered this harbour witiiout soliciting pcrmis^sion to do so, and it was recorded at the time as an instance of generous forbearance, that he did not seize twelve rich merchantmen then in the harbour, but contented himself M'iih taking hostages for the supply of whatever he might Mant. While Hawkins was refitting in this harbour, a fleet of Spaniards appeared, which was suffered to enter the harbour after a nego- tiation. The Spanish viceroy gave assurances of friendsiiip to the Eng- lish commander, but it was only to secure time, and make preparations for an attack. As soon as Hawkins perceived his situation he determined to fight with the greatest obstinacy. His force was greatly inferior and quite unfit to cope with the Spaniards. The result was deeply disas- trous to the English squadron. Hawkins, after a terrible conffict, was obliged to seek safety by flight. With one ship and a bark he made sail, but was obliged through inadequate provision, to put half his men on shore, in a creek of the bay. He then made the best of his way for England, and afler enduring great hardships reached it in January, 1568 From this period his ardour for naval enterprizes appears to have sub- sided. He quietly applied himself to the service of his country in the office of treasurer of the navy, to which he was appointed in 1573. There were several younger men and officers of great merit who had been bred under himself, and among these, none more justly renowned than his kinsman Drake. Soon after this appointment, he was very near losing his life through being mistaken by an assassin for the vice-chamberlain Hatton. For some years Hawkins continued to ad- vise and direct the naval enterprizes, though he took no direct part in their execution ; but in 1588, when the naval power of Spain waa brought against England in the formidable and splendid armada, Hawkins of course, as an experienced and brave commander, was called forth to action. He liad the commission of rear-admiral on that memor- able occasion, and commanded the Victory. He subsequently received the honour of knighthood and the flattering commendations of the queen for his conduct on that emergency. In 1590, two squadrons of ships were sent out to infest the Spanish coast, and interrupt their fleet which was expected with treasure from the new world. One of these squad- rons was put under his command ; the other under Sir Martin Frobisher. This cruize however failed in its main objects, though it greatly dis- tressed Spain, and contributed to the maintenance of our naval su- periority. Hawkin's last enterprize Mas in conjunction with Drake against the West Indies. The commanders quarrelled, the enterpri|pe failed, and Hawkins falling ill through vexation, and probably through the wound his pride had received in being obliged to submit to Drake, died before any thing had been eftected, on the 21st of November, 1595. He had been twice returned member of parliament for his native place, Plymouth. He founded an hospital at Chatham, for poor and infirm and sick sailors. He was admitted to be an able and judicious officer; and though his fame is sullied by the part he took in establishing the slave-trade, yet he contributed gretitly to establish the maritime repu- tation of his country. He was liighly esteemed for his thorough know- ledge of every branch of naval aiiairs. His courage was rather cool than enterprising, rather firm than bold. His manners were rude and harsh, and he was more beloved by his men than by his officers. In G08 POLITICAL SERIES. [Tourth some r<3spects he cannot stand as a true specimen of English naval character — he was both crafty and avaricious. BORN A. D. 1545. — DIED A. D. 1596. Francis Drake, one of the most brilliant names in the naval his- tory of England, was born of obscure parentage, at Tavistock, in Devonshire, in 1545. He was tlie eldest of twelve sons, all of whom, with few exceptions, went to sea. Francis was early apprenticed to the master of a small vessel that traded to France and the Low Countries, who, dying unmarried, left him his ship in reward of his faithful ser- vices. At this time the West Indies had not been long discovered, and little was talked of amongst merchant-seamen but the riches of this new country and the wealth to be got by trading with it. Drake too vyas dazzled by the prospect of an adventure to the West Indies, and having sold the vessel of which he had so lately become possessed, embarked the proceeds in what was then called the Guinea-trade, and sailed from England in the squadron of Captain John Hawkins. The regu- lar course of this trade was to repair first to the Guinea coast, and, by force, fraud, and other means, procure a cargo of slaves, and then to proceed to the Spanish islands and colonies, where the Africans were exchanged for such commodities as were most marketable at home. Hawkins's squadron having completed their cargo of slaves sailed for Spanish America, and entered the port of St Juan de UUoa, in the gulf of Mexico, where they were treacherously attacked by the Spanish :leet, as related in a preceding notice, and four of their vessels de- stroyed. The Minion, with Hawkins himself on board, and the Judith, commanded by Drake, were the only English ships that escaped on Ihis occasion. Drake lost his whole property in this unfortunate adventure, but, though oppressed and impoverished, he retained at least his courage and his industry ; and, with that ardent spirit which prompted him to, and bore him through, so many adventures, he instantly projected and executed a new voyage to America, with the view of gaining accurate intelligence of the state of the Spanish settlements in that quarter, pre- paratory to a grand expedition against them. This first experimental voyage took place in 1570 ; but Drake's first attempt at reprisal upon a large scale was made in 1572. On the 24th of May, that year, he sailed from Plymouth in the Pasha, of 70 tons, accompanied by the Swan, of 25 tons ; the latter vessel being placed under the command of his brother John. The whole force with which Drake set out on this occasion, to make reprisals upon the most powerful nation in the world, consisted of these two light vessels, slightly armed, and supplied with a year's provisions, and 73 men and boys. He, probably, how- ever, increased his force during the cruise, and we know that he was joined before his attack on Nombre de Dios, by one Captain llause, whose ship was manned by about 50 men. His attack on Nombre de Dios failed, but, shortly after, he had the good fortune to capture a string of treasure-mules, on the rout from Panama to tiiat port. It Period.] SIR FRANCIS DRAKE. 609 was during tho hnrrini marcli wliich ho made across the isthmus, witli the view of ett'ecting this capture, that Drake caught iiis first sight of the Pacific from ' a goodly ami groat high tree,' — a sight which, to use the words of Camden, " left him no rest in his own mind till he had accomplished his purpose of sailing an English ship in those seas." After his return to England from this successful expedition, Ave find Drake acting as a volunteer with three stout frigates, under Essex, in subduing the Irish rebellion. His services on this occasion enabled Sir Christopher Hatton to present him with many recommendations to Queen Elizabeth, who, pleased with the young mariner's appearance and account of himself, promised him her patronage and assistance for the future. Drake now announced his scheme of a voyage into the south seas, through the straits of Magellan, and Elizabeth secretly en- couraged his design. It was of importance to conceal the matterfrom the Spaniards. "The squadron, therefore, which Drake collected for his new expedition was ostensibly fitted out for a trading voyage to Alex- andria. It consisted of five small vessels, the largest, called the Pelican, being only 500 tons, and the aggregate crew only 164 men. A violent gale forced them back, soon after quitting port, and did considerable dam- age to the little squadron ; but, on the 13th of December, 1577, they again put to sea, and, on tlie 20th of May, 1578, the squadron anchored in the Port St Julian of Magellan, in 40" 30' south latitude. " Here," says one relation, " we found the gibbet still standing on the main where Magellan did execute justice upon some of his rebellious and discontented company." Whether Drake took the hint thus suggested from his predecessor or not, he embraced the opportunity afforded liim during the stay of the fleet at this place to bring one of the part- ners of his expedition to trial on a charge of conspiracy and mutiny. The accounts which we possess of this transaction are by no means clear or corroborating. We know, in fact, little more of it than Cliffe has expressed in one brief sentence, " Mr Thomas Doughty was brought to his answer, — accused, convicted, and beheaded." Mr Francis Fletcher, the chaplain of the fleet, states that Drake took the sacrament with Doughty after his condemnation, and that they then dined together " at the same table, as cheerfully in sobriety as ever in their lives they had done; and, taking their leaves, by drinking to each other, as if some short journey only had been in hand." Early in September, the squadron emerged from the western end of the straits, having spent about fifteen days in their navigation, and, on the 6th of the same month, Drake enjoyed the long prayed- for felicity of sailing an English ship on the South sea. On clearing the straits, the fleet held a north-west course, but was immediately driven by a violent gale mto 57 south latitude, soon after which the Marigold parted company, and was never heard of more. To complete their disasters, the Golden Hmd, in which Drake himself now sailed, while anchored in a bay near the entrance of the straits, broke her cable and drove to sea. The Elizabeth, her companion, commanded by Captain Winter, immediate- ly returned through the straits, and reached England in June, 1578. But the Hind, being beaten round without the strait, touched at Cape Horn, from which place Drake sailed along the coast to Valparaiso, nigh to which latter place he had the good fortune to fall in with and capture a valuable Spanish ship, in which were found 60,000 pesos of I- 4 II (UO POLITICAL SERIES. [Fourth gold, and 1770 jars of Chili wine. A richer prize soon after fell into his hands: this was the Cacafuego having on board 26 tons of silver, 13 chests of plate, and 80 lbs. of gold. Drake now began to think of re- turning home, but, as the attempt to repass the straits would have ex- posed him to the certainty of capture by the despoiled Spaniards, he resolved on seeking a north-west passage homewards, and, with this resolution, steered for Nicaragua. In this attempt, he reached the 48th northern parallel on the western coast of America, but, despair- ing of success, and the season being now far advanced, he steered west- wards from this point for tlte cape of Good Hope, and, on the 16th of October, made the Philippines. After narrowly escaping shipwreck on the coast of Celebes, in 1" 56' south latitude, they made sail for Java, which they reached on the 12th of March, and, on the 15th of June, they reached the cape of Good Hope, which, to their great sur- p'.ise, they doubled with comparative ease and safety, — a circumstance from which they concluded " the report of the Portugals most false," which had represented the doubling of the cape as a thing of exceeding danger and difficulty. On the 25tli of September, 1580, Captain Drake came to anchor in the harbour of Plymouth, having completed the circumnavigation of the globe in two years and ten months. The fame of his exploit, and of the immense booty which he had captured, soon rung throughout all England, and, on the 4th of April, 1581, Queen Elizabeth rewarded the intrepid navigator by dining in state on board the Hind, and conferring upon its commander the honour ol knighthood. The Spanish court was loud in its complaints against Drake, and solemnly protested against the right of the English to navi- gate the South sea ; but Elizabeth treated its remonstrances with scorn, and a war betwixt the two nations ensued forthwith. In 1585, Sir Francis sailed, with an armament of twenty -five sail, to the West Indies, and captured the cities of St Jago, St Domingo, and Carthagena. His vice-admiral in this expedition was the celebrated Martin Frobisher. His next exploit was an attack upon the shipping of Cadiz, which was to have made part of the armada. In this service he was completely successful, having burnt upwards of 10,000 tons of shipping in that harbour. A more lucrative, if less splendid, achieve- ment, was the capture of the St Piiilip, a Portuguese carrack from the West Indies, with an immense treasure on board. In the following year, he was appointed vice-admiral under Howard, high-admiral of England, and acquitted himself most nobly and successfully in the ever-memorable fight with the armada. In 1595, Sir Francis was, for a short time, associated with Sir John Hawkins, in an expedition against the West Indies, the details of which have already been given in our notice of the latter commander. The expedition proved fatal to both its commanders. Within little more than two months after the death of Sir John Hawkins, Admiral Drake expired on board his nwn ship, off Porto Bello, on the 28th of January, 1596. Period.] CECIL. LORD BURLEIGH. Gil Cecil, HqiU Burldgf). BORN A. D. 1520. OIKD A. D. 1598. William Cecil, Lord Burleigh, secretary of state in the reigns of Edward VI. and Queen Elizabeth, and afterwards lord-high-treasurer of England, was the son of Richard Cecil, Esq. of Burleigh, in the county of Northanijiton, master of the robes to Henry VIII. His fa- mily traced their origin to llolx rt Sitsilt, who assisted Robert Filz Hammon in the conquest of Glamorganshire, in 1091. William was born at Bourne in Lincolnshire, on the 13th of September, 1520, and received the lirst rudiments of education successively at the grammai schools of Grantham and Stamford. In 1535 he was removed to St John's college, Cambridge, where he distinguislied himself by close application to his studies. At the early age of sixteen, he delivered a public lecture on the logic of the schools ; and before completing his twentieth year, he read prelections on the Greek language. About the year 1541, he entered of Gray's inn, A\here he applied himself to the study of the lav/, and to the cultivation of such habits as were likely to promote his professional eminence. It is recorded of him, that when studying here, he lost all his furniture and books to his companion at the gaming table, but adopted the following device for obtaining restitution of what he could ill afford to spare at the time. He bored a hole in the wall which separated his chambers from these of his associate, and at midnight bellowed through the aperture sundry fearful threats and exhortations to repentance, which so terrified the victorious gambler, that he refunded his winnings, on his knees, next day. " Many other the like merry jests," says his old biographer, " I have heard him tell, too long to be here noted." An incident, trivial in itself, proved the means of introducing him to the notice of his sove- reign. Having gone to visit his father in his apartments at court, he met with two of O'Neil the Irish chieftain's chaplains, in the presence chamber, with whom he got into a warm dispute on various points of faith, and particularly on the pope's supremacy. The argument was conducted in Latin, but the youthful advocate for the reformed religion completely foiled his priestly opponents. This incident having been related to the king, he desired to see young Cecil, and was so pleased with his demeanour and conversation, that he directed his master of the robes to provide his son with a place at court. As no suitable situ- ation happened to be vacant at the time, his father solicited for him tlie reversion of the Custos Brevium in the court of common pleas, which was readily granted. Shortly after this auspicious introduction at court, Cecil married Mary, the daughter of Sir John Cheke, a gentle- man of great respectability and influence, who introduced him to the notice of the earl of Hertford, maternal uncle to the young prince Ed- ward. His first wife having died in 1543, he now married a daughter of Sir Anthony Cooke, the director of the young king's studies, with whom he received a considerable fortune, which, in addition to the re- venue of the office of Custos, to which he had now succeeded, placed him in comparative affluence. In 1547, he was appointed to the office of master of requests by the protector, Somerset ; and in the same year, G12 POLITICAL SERIES. [Totjrth he accompanied his patron into Scotland, and was present at the battle of Pinkey. In 1548, he was promoted to the high office of secretary of state. The fall of his patron — which took place in little more than a year after this — involved Cecil, who was committed to the Tower, where he remained for about the space of three months, when, through the intercession of the duke of Northumberland, he was not only set at liberty, but restored to his office of secretary, knighted, and sworn of the privy council. Cecil played his part in the complicated politics of the day with great prudence and dexterity. He has been accused of ingratitude towards his former patron, Somerset, and of having pro- moted the ruin of that unfortunate nobleman ; but the charge is sup- ported only by negative proofs. We have no evidence that he inter- fered to preserve Somerset ; but we have as little that his interference would have been of any service in the case. It was to the honour of the young secretary, that whilst all the other courtiers were involved m the factions and intrigues of the day, he alone kept aloof from cabals, and applied himself v/ith unremitting attention to the duties of his office. In 1553, Sir William undertook the liquidation of the crown debts, and for this eminent service he was made chancellor of the order of the Garter. Cecil has been charged with having assisted in drawing up the pa- tent by which the young king, feeling himself dying, consented to fix the succession to the throne in the person of the duchess of Suffolk, to the exclusion of Mary and Elizabeth, daughters of Henry VIII., and Mary, queen of Scots, grandaughter of Henry's eldest sister ; but in a memorial which he afterwards drew up touching his conduct in this matter, he declares that he refused to subscribe the patent as a privy- councillor, and had only consented, at the king's earnest entreaty, to subscribe that document as witness to the king's signature. Fuller says, " his hand wrote it as secretary of state, but his heart consented not thereto. Yea, he openly opposed it ; though at last, yielding to the greatness of Northumberland, in an age when it was present drowning not to swim with the stream. But," he adds, " Cecil had secret coun- ter endeavours against the strain of the court herein, and privately advanced his rightful intentions against the foresaid duke's ambition." This was undoubtedly the most perilous conjuncture of Cecil's life ; but his sagacity and self-command never deserted him, and finally extricated him from the dangers which beset him. On the king's demise, he re- solutely refused to draw up the proclamation, declaring Lady Jane Cirey's title to the crown; and soon afterwards he contrived to escape from the city and join Queen Mary, who received him very graciously, and would have retained him in her service in the appointment which he had hitherto held, if he would have consented to renounce the pro- testant faith, which he declined to do ; he went to mass however, and for the better ordering of his spiritual concerns took a priest into his house. During the remainder of Mary's reign, he continued in a pri- vate station, only attending his duty in parliament, where he sat as one of the members for the county of Lincoln, and conducted himself with considerable boldness, particularly in the debate which ended in the rejection of the bill for confiscating the estates of such as had quitted the kingdom on the score of religion. Yet so guarded was his language, as a parliamentary leader in opposition to the court, that while some Pkkiod.] CECIL, LORD BUIILEIGH. 613 wlio acted with him wore imprisoned by the privy council, he escaped w ith impunity. Cecil certainly foresaw that tiie accession of Klizaheth to the throni was an event not far distant, and with consuniniati; skill he manajj^ed to pay his court to that princess without exciting the suspicion of her bigotted sister. When that event hai)pened, Cecil was the first person sworn of Elizabeth's i)rivy-council, and he was at the same time created secretary of state. One of the first measures which he recommended to the attention of the queen, was to meet the spirit of the times by a thorough reformation of the church. He urged upon her consideration the facts, that the nation had expressed itself decidedly in favour of such a step, — that the protestant party confidently looked to her for it, — that she had nothing to hope but much to fear from the catliolic party, — and that it became her to vindicate that supremacy in matters ecclesias- tical as well as civil which her royal father had so boldly claimed anfl so highly valued. By such representations he wrung a reluctant con- sent from Elizabeth to the measures which he proposed; her prejudices, however, frequently resisted her minister's discernment, and it was with the utmost difficulty that Cecil maintained his ground against Parker, Whitgift, and other intolerant prelates. His next care was to remedy the abuses in the coinage which had been greatly debased during the preceding reigns, and the measures which he adopted for this purpose proved so effectual that the money of England soon became the heaviest and finest in Europe. All his financial suggestions were not equally praiseworthy. The plan which he proposed to Elizabeth for augmenting her revenue without having recourse to parliament, is especially to be de- precated. His scheme was to erect a court for the correction of all abuses throughout the kingdom ; its officers were to be invested with a kind of inquisitorial authority, and to punish defaulters by fines proportionate to their offences, which were all to be paid into the royal exchequer. Such a measure, if gone into, would have been to revive the practices of Empson and Dudley, and raise a storm of popular opposition which might have hurled even the stern and wary Elizabeth from the throne of Eng- land. Cecil was also the author of a scheme for raising a general loan equivalent in amount to a subsidy. A better feature in Cecil's charac- ter as a financier was his strict economy. Elizabeth, fortunately for herself and the nation, went along with him in this, and the consequence was that tiie government during her reign was conducted at less ex- pense, in proportion to the transactions, domestic and foreign, in which it was engaged, than that of any other British sovereign. She also paid the debts with which her father and sister had encumbered the crown, amounting it is supposed to above £4,000,000 ; and at her death, left the states of Holland her debtors to the amount of £800,000, and France £450,000. Elizabeth, however, had her favourites on whom she occasionally lavished her treasures with a most prodigal hand, such especially was Essex, who, at different times, had received from tiie queen pecuniary gifts to the extent of £700,000.' Then there were the usual host of needy and supplicating courtiers who beset both the queen and her minister on all occasions with their importunities. All this last tribe were treated by Cecil with the contempt they merited, ' Nanton's Regalia, chap. i. 614 POLITICAL SERIES. [Fourth and he was ever on the alert to harden the queen against their solicita- tions. He was in consequence often bitterly inveighed against as a parsimonious and narrow-minded minister, and even threatened with the vengeance of the disappointed seekers for wealth or preferment; but, strong in the consciousness of his own rectitude he despised their olamours, and pursued the same maxims with which he had commenced during the whole of his long and successful mi/iistry. But while thus hostile to irregular and unmerited gratuities, Cecil was a punctual and liberal rewarder of real services. It was by his advice that the common soldiers were first clothed at the expense of government, and received their weekly allowances directly into their own hands, in- stead of, as formerly, through the medium of their officers. Another task which this indefatigable minister took upon himself, was that of answering all publications hostile to the queen's government. His political writings evince a fair, open, and liberal spirit, and con- tributed much, it is said, to retain the people in their allegiance, during the frequent partial insurrections which succeeded Norfolk's first con- spiracy. The Jesuitical libellers of the day had also their full share of notice from the secretary's pen, as his voluminous apologies still ex- tant testify.'^ Cecil was raised to the office of lord-high-treasurer in 1372, being the eleventh year of his administration. Under his management the receipts of the treasury increased rapidly, while the mode of levying the taxes was more equalized, and the general burden made to sit lighter on the people. It was an excellent saying of his, that "he never cared to see the treasury swell like a disordered spleen when the other parts of the constitution were in a consumption." It was an inva- riable rule of his never to issue the smallest payment without an ex- press order from the queen ; and as he never would borrow from the exchequer for his own private purposes, he was almost the only one of Elizabeth's ministers, who, at his death, owed nothing to the public. Tlie same consideration which suggested these economical courses to Elizabeth's great minister, prompted him also to a pacific line of foreign policy. " War," he used to say, " is soon kindled, but peace very hardly procured. War is the curse and peace the blessing of God upon a nation. A realm gains more by one year's peace than by ten years' war." Guided by these maxims he maintained England in a state of tranquillity, while the continental states and Scotland were involved in wars and intestine convulsions. We have already, in different me- moirs, adverted to the many difficulties with which Cecil was occasion- ally called to contend in his system of foreign policy. Surrounded by high and gallant spirits who thirsted for the achievements of the field and the renown of martial enterprise, it was no easy task for him, even aided by his prudent sovereign, to save the nation from being plunged into wars which, however redolent of military glory, would have re- dounded little to the ultimate welfare and the social security of the country at lai-ge. Yet he succeeded in the difficult task, and through- out the struggle which the Low Countries maintained with the bigoted Philip, and the civil wars of France, England pursued a line of policy at once pacific and dexterous, which, while it sufficiently vindicated the - Many of them still remain in manuscript, but Strype lias published several of them. Period.] CECIL. LORD BURLEIGH. 615 national honour, effectually prevented a collision betwixt the catholic and protestant parties at iionic, ami, perhaps in the main, proved aa beneficial to the oppressed protostant party abroad as the more active and decided interference of England in their behalf could have done. We have dwelt at some lengtli on Elizabeth's policy towards Scotland in otiier memoirs. It is very difficult to determine how much of Eliza- l)oth's conduct towards the unfortunate Mary was dictated by personal jealousy, — how much by the advice of Cecil and other ministers. Cecil certainly regarded Mary as the most dangerous enemy of his sovereign and the protestant religion, and considered her liberty as incompatible with the safety of either. The partisans of Norfolk also esteemed him the main cause of their leader's death. Elizabeth, witli that selfishness which always marked her character, did not hesitate to attemjjt to shift the odium of both Mary's and Norfolk's execution from herself to Cecil. But still there is no historical evidence of his having laboured to ac- complisli the death of either of these personages with greater assiduity than his other colleagues in office ; and Elizabeth's subsequent conduct sufficiently evinces how unshaken was the confidence she reposed in her favourite minister, notwithstanding all that she affected to believe against him. We have seen how resolutely she interfered to rescue him from Leicester's intrigue for his fall ; and on many other occasions she gave evidence that her favourite minister was no more to be im- peached by others with impunity than herself. Yet Cecil's rewards were by no means extraordinary. The highest title he ever obtained was that of baron; and his official promotions were always of a kind which brought additional business along with them. To perform the various duties of the different situations occupied by this statesman required no common talents and no ordinary indus- try, and nothing was more remarkable in Lord Burleigh than his unremitting diligence. His occupations were manifold, but by steadily adhering to his favourite maxim, that " the shortest way to do many things is to do one thing at once," he got through his duties in a satis- %ctory manner, without either hurry or confusion. One of his con- temporaries lias declared that during a period of twenty-four years he never saw him idle for half an hour together. Even when labouring under severe pain from gout, he would make himself be carried to his office for the despatch of business. In his court — like one of our omu times whom it is not necessary for us here to name — he is said to have expedited more causes in one term than his predecessors had been accustomed to get through in a twelvemonth ; and notwithstanding the multiplicity of business which pressed upon him, no one could ever say of him that he had disregarded a reasonable application for law, justice, or advice in any matter. To have witnessed the minuteness and accuracy of his arrangements for the discharge of his judicial duties, one would have supposed him entirely devoted to these, and to domestic policy ; l)ut he was equally indefatigable in foreign affairs, — no plot escaped his vigilance, whether hatched in the Spanish cabinet or in the chamber of the king of France, — the movements of England's enemies were known to him as soon as concerted, — and yet he himself remained impenetrable to the numerous and dexterous spies which surrounded him. There is little doubt that he employed a more extensive system of espionage thau is accordant with more modern views of political integrity : but the spii il 616 POLITICAL SEEIES. [Fouktii and circumstances of the times rendered something of the kind almost indispensable to the minister who desired to be early and accurately informed of the state of parties within his circle of operations. In his own domestic economy, Burleigh, with all his simple personal habits, was magnificent even to profusion. The state of society at the time demanded this. Yet he not only died unencumbered with debt, but left, besides £11,000 in money, £4,000 a year in lands to his heirs. Burleigh remained in office for a period almost unexampled in the history of courts. Yet he was by no means avaricious of power, and ambition seems never to have been once awakened in his breast. He aimed at doing his duty in the successive stations to which he was raised without solicitation on his part — and his notions of duty, it must be granted, were of no extraordinarj'^ kind — but beyond this he attempted nothing more. He was in fact a lover of retirement, and derived little personal satisfaction from the glitter and bustle of a court. Within a very few years after the accession of Elizabeth, we find him expressing a desire to quit a station in which he enjoyed so little repose ; and at different times he solicited the queen with unaffected earnestness to accept of his resignation. But Elizabeth knew his worth too well to part with him easily, and even did not hesitate to descend from the stateliness of royalty, and indulge in such playful familiarities with her minister, as attached him more strongly to her person, and made him foir a season abandon his views of retirement. In private life, Burleigh was simple and domestic. He delighted in the society of his family ; and in his wife, the daughter of Sir Anthony Cooke, he possessed during their union of forty-three years, a companion every way fitted to enhance the sweets of domestic life to him. At his own table he was often jocose and sportive, and gave himself up to a moderate but genial hilarity ; but conversation, in which he excelled, was the chief pleasure he enjoyed at the festive board, for he ate and drank sparingly. The principal scene of his amusements was his seat at Theobald's near London. Here he used to retire as often as he could snatch an interval of leisure from his public duties, and would amuse and recreate himself by riding up and down the walks on his mule and overlooking the sports of his young retainers ; but he never joined in any diversions himself. His piety was unostentatious and sincere ; and he used to say that he trusted no man who was not re- ligious, " for he that is false to God can never be true to man." This able and politic minister died on the 4th of August, 1598, in the 78th year of his age. His royal mistress visited him on his death- bed, and his power passed with little diminution to a son who inherited his abilities. His life has furnished a theme for several pens, and has been recently expanded into three large quarto volumes, by Dr Nares, regius professor of modern history in the university of Oxford. BORN A. D. 1567. — DIED A. D. 1601. This nobleman, whose fortunes are so intimately blended with tlit military and personal history of Queen Elizabeth, was born av. Nether- Period.] ROBERT DEVEREUX, EARL OF ESSEX. 617 wood, Herts, in 1.567. His father was Walter, earl of Essex, who liad been advanced by that princess to the earhloni, and tlie order of the Garter, His mother was.a daughter of Sir Francis Knollj's, and a cousin of the queen. Tlie youth, at his father's death, being but ten years of age, his affairs were managed by an agent of Burh^igh's of the name ol Edward Waterhouse, who, in a letter addressed to Sir Henry Sidney shortly after the death of Essex, represents the son as favoured and supported by the queen and nobles. The earl was educated, under Dr Wiiitgift, at Trinity college, Cambridge ; and, altliough at an ear- lier period of his life, he had appeared to be slow in sciiolarship, he dis- tinguished himself at that university, and took the degree of master of arts in 1582. Leaving college, he retired to a residence at Lambsie, in Wales; but, in 1584, when in the seventeenth year of his age, was introduced at court. Having attended his relative, the earl of Leices- ter, to Holland, in 1586, he fought at the battle of Zutphen, memorable for the death of Sir Philip Sidney, between whom and a sister of Essex i had been proposed that a marriage should be formed. Tlie young earl distinguished himself upon this occasion, and was created a knight- banneret. In 1587, he succeeded Leicester as master of the horse ; and, in the course of the active preparations which were made against Spain, when, in 1588, that country threatened the invasion of England, he was made general of the horse, besides being invested with the or- der of the garter. On the death of Leicester, in the same yeai*, he be- came head of the party at court which had been led by that unworthy favourite, of whom he seemed also to prove the successor in the affec- tions of Elizabeth. Of this attachment, his chivalrous character, as well as his beautiful person, may have been in some degree the cause — but, on one occasion, the very ardour of his chivalry seems to have lost him the favour of the queen. For, in 1589, he left the court with- out her permission, and attached himself to an expedition against Por- tugal, undertaken by Sir Francis Drake and Sir John Norris — on which she forthwith despatched the earl of Huntingdon with an injunction for his return. But he had sailed from Plymouth before Huntingdon's arrival, and, in ignorance of her wish, or in disobedience to her order, he continued in his enterprise. Having reached Portugal, he served in that country as a volunteer, and, at Lisbon, challenged the govei- nor, or any other of like rank, to single combat. He was commended for his gallantry in this campaign, and received forgiveness of the queen. The office of Sir Francis Walsingham, principal secretary of state. becoming vacant, by his death in 1590, Essex endeavoured to secure it for Davison, who, by the part he took in the execution of the queen of Scots, had forfeited the royal favour. Lord Burleigh, on the other hand, sought the office for his son, Robert Cecil, and this is giv- en as the first occasion on which decided evidences of mutual opposi- tion between the family of Cecil and the earl appear. It seems proba- ble, however, that real friendship for Davison dictated the exertions which Essex made in his behalf, as recorded in his correspondence with that unfortunate man between the years 1587 and 1590. In his suit to Elizabeth, Essex proved unsuccessful, and, in 1590, he himself fell under her displeasure by privately marrying the widow of Sir Philip Sidne3\ In the following year, however, wdien the queen was I. 4 I 618 POLITICAL SERIES. [I^ourth engaged in assisting Henry IV. of France against the Spanish power, Essex was sent to Normandy at the head of 4000 men. Contrary to his inclination, he lay for some time at Dieppe, without engaging in military enterprise, but he took a part in the siege of Rouen. On this occasion, he lost, by a musket-shot, a favourite brother, Walter Deve- reux — ' the half-arch of his house,' to use his own beautiful expres- sion ; ' and notwithstanding a challenge which he sent to the governor of Rouen, and the display of courage which he gave, he gained, on this expedition, no signal victory. He offended the queen too by the profusion with which he conferred knighthood on the officers. On his return, however, earlj'- in 1592, he was favourably received, and was soon afterwards admitted into the privy-council. At court he headed a party in opposition to that of Robert Cecil. This period of his life is marked by one or two circumstances which it might be unjust to overlook ; although, considering the political relations in which he stood, it may be impossible to say that his acts of kindness were alto- gether free from less honourable feelings. In 1592, he endeavoured to procure for Francis Bacon, then a young man, the office of attoi ney- general ; and, afterwards, he sought that of solicitor-general for the same individual — the glory and dishonour of the age. The ' raw j'^outh,' as Bacon, on the former of these occasions, was styled by Robert Cecil, was in both cases unsuccessful, the queen recollecting the opposition he had made to her in parliament, how disposed soever she might otherwise have been to gratify her favourite and secure the services of Bacon. Anthony, too, the brother of Francis Bacon, re- ceived the patronage of Essex, who furnished him, in 1595, with apart- ments in Essex-house, as he also presented Francis with an estate. Another circumstance that may be mentioned, is the exposure of a plot against the life of Elizabeth, carried on by Roderigo Lopez, a physi- cian of the queen, who was brought to justice by the persevering exer- tions of the earl. Sir Robert Cecil informed the queen, that, after in- quiry, the charge had not been established, and Elizabeth rebuked the earl for rashness in bringing against a poor man an accusation which he could not make good. But the investigation was renewed, and Lopez, being convicted, suffered execution. In the same year, Essex begged to be appointed commander of the land forces sent out with Sir Francis Drake and Sir John Hawkins, against the Spanish colonies. But the queen declared, that she loved him and her kingdom too well to liazard his safety in such an enterprise, and presented him with £4000. From court, however, we have now to follow him on another war- like expedition. Lord Howard, of Effingham, joined the earl in urg ing the queen to renew hostilities with Spain. Elizabeth followed the advice, and, in 1596, Essex was appointed general of the land forces In Philip of Spain liis martial ardour found an enemy congenial to it- self, and he is said even to have given Elizabeth otience by his accus- tomed expression — " I will make that proud king know !" He set out, however, with tokens of her regard, accompanied by Lord Howard of Effingham as lord-admiral. They were attended by a council of war, consisting of Lord Thomas Howard, Sir Walter Raleigh, Sir Francis ' Apology of the Earl of Essex. Period.] ROBERT DEVEREUX, EARL OF ESSEX. 619 Verc, Sir George Carew, and Sir Conyers Cliffbrd. The fleet sailed on the 1st of June, 1596, and proceeded to Cadiz, where tiiey arrived on the 1st of July. It was proposed, in the first place, to land the troops on shore, and Essex was proceeding to do so, when Raleigh re- conuuended to him that an attack should be made on the vessels lying in the bay. This proposal the enthusiastic spirit of Essex led him to support, and when Raleigh return(Hi, signifying, by the cry of J'Jiilra- vios, that the j)roposal had been acceded to, the earl, in the ardour of liis satisfaction, threw his hat into the sea. He was informed, however, that the queen, in her concern for his safety, had given orders that he should not be allowed to lead the van, and he promised to ke(!]) him- self in a place of greater safety. But this timid policy ill suited the spirit of the earl. On the fleet coming into action with the enemy, he rushed on to the heat of the encounter. The enemy's ships gave way, and Essex proceeded to land his troops near Puntal, leading the way himself, accompanied by Vere. This done, he proceeded to make an attack on Cadiz. The earl, who seems to have followed the sage ad- vice of Vere, prov d successful, and it is recorded to his honour, that he stayed the slaughter, and treated the prisoners with kindness. The English, however, plundered the city. It is recorded that Essex offer- ed to defend it, with lour hundred men and provisions for three months, until English succour should arrive. Tlie proposal to defend Cadiz is thought, by a recent biographer of Vere,^ to have been suggested by tiiat officer — but, if it was so, still the suspicion which may thus be thrown on the originality of the earl, in regard to the suggestion, is not inconsistent with the fact of his adopting it. This proposal, however, as well as others characteristic of the gallant, perhaps too adventurous Essex, was opposed by his companions ; and, on his return home, in August, he published an account of the expedition, " wherein," says Dr Campbell,^ " as Mr Oldys well observes, and therein censures Sir Henry Wotton, the earl blames every body's conduct but his own." * During the absence of Essex, his character had been aspersed by Lord Brooke, and by others who looked on him with coldness or hos- tility of feeling. The queen, on her part, blamed him for being so li- beral in distributing the prize-money. About the same time, his mar- tial zeal and open character drew from Francis Bacon a very curious letter, recommending to him a hypocrisy not very consistent, perhaps, with the character of Essex. But, early in 1597, a reconciliation was effected between the earl and Sir Robert Cecil, by means of Sir Wal- ter Raleigh. The same year, Essex commanded a squadron against the Spaniards. On the way, his squadron was separated from another led by Sir Walter Raleigh, who arrived sooner than his companion at Fayal, which Essex had expressed an intention of attacking. The earl had been appointed commander-in-chief of all the forces employed in the expedition, but Sir Walter, after waiting a few days for Essex's arrival at Fayal, the inhabitants of which were preparing for defence, commenced a successful attack on the island. The earl testified great • llev. Mr Gleig — Lives of British Commanders, vol. i. See also Vere's Commentaries. ' Lives of tbe British Admirals. ♦ In this expedition, a library belonging to Osorius, a Portuguese bishop, fell into the hands of Essex, who gave it lo the library founded by his friend, Sir Tlvomas Budley, in 1597. G20 POLITICAL SEEIES. [Fourth dissatisfaction with the conduct of Raleigh, who, he seems to have felt, had deprived him of the honour of the triumph. He also treated with severity certain officers who had concurred in the measure. But he again received Raleigh into favour, at the solicitation of Lord Thomas Howard. Sir William Monson imagines that he was afraid of being call- ed to account in England, should he have dealt hardly with the vic- torious captain. Essex proceeded to Graciosa, whicli submitted. But leaving this, the English fleet suffered about forty ships of the Spaniards to escape them. This untoward circumstance is attributed, by Sir William Monson, who was himself in the English fleet, to a want of ex- perience and skill on the part of Essex.'^ Three ships, however, were taken, the wealth of which, amounting, it is said, to £100,000, went far to compensate for the expenses of the outfit and the voyage. Essex also plundered the town of Villa Franca. The English fleet, after suft'ering severely from stormy weather, which also prevented a meditated invasion of England by the Spanish ships, reached the Eng- lish coast in October. The queen expressed dissatisfaction with the favourite ; and it must be granted that the part which Essex had borne in the expedition was not a very glorious one. That his failure to in- tercept the Spanish galleons was an act of weakness, and his resent- ment at Raleigh for his successful attack on Fayal, an act of selfish- ness, we shall not deny. Yet, after all, we do not see sufficient evi- dence in the latter circumstance, or in any other part of the life of Essex, to infer, with Dr Campbell,^ that " the earl had no view but to his own particular glory, and that the public service was to be post- poned whenever it came in competition therewith." Along with the sense of having failed in this enterprise, or of being considered to have done so, Essex, on his return to England, had the additional mortifica- tion of appearing to be robbed of the laurels attending the victory at Cadiz. He found that Elizabeth had issued a patent, conferring on the lord-high-admiral the title of earl of Nortliampton, on the alleged ground of his success at that capital. Essex, who claimed for himself the honour of that success, retired to Wanstead, pretending, it seems, to be sick, according to what appears to have been a customary mode, in these times, of taking shelter from public mortification, or of suing for royal favour. The queen was moved, and, in December, 1597, created him earl-marshall. She also presented him with the sum of £7000. The summer of 1598, however, involved the earl in a double quarrel. Urging the continuance of the war with Spain, in opposition to the advice of the venerable Burleigh, he was charged by that minister with being inclined to bloodshed. Burleigh even used the freedom of point- ing, in a prayer-book, to the words, " Blood-thirsty men shall not live out half of their days." Whether the charge was just is a question to which it might be an unsatisfactory task to return an answer. Its truth is denied in " an Apology of the Earl of Essex against those who jea- lously and maliciously tax him as the Hinderer of the Peace and Quiet of his Country," a document which was published in 1603, after the death of the Earl, and which, although long attributed to Francis Bacon, has been argued, from its dissimilarity to Bacon's writings, and its re. * Monson's Naval Tracts. Campbell's Lives of the British Admirals. ' Lives of the British Admirals. Period.J ROBERT DEVEREUX, EARL OF ESSEX. 621 semblance to the acknowledged works of Essex, to be the composition of tiie Earl himself.' In the course of the same summer Essex had a serious quarrel with the queen. Differing with her, on one occasion, about tiie appointment of a governor for Ireland, he turned his back upon her majesty, on which the high-spirited princess gave him a blow on the ear, and bade him "go and be hanged." Clapping liis hand on his sword, he swore that not from her father himself would he bear such treatment, and forthwith left the palace. Egerton, the lord-keeper, ad- vised him to submit, and seek forgiveness of the queen. But this he declined to do, in a letter remarkable for the warmth of its spirit, and the beauty of its diction. After months of retirement from court, the breach between Elizabeth and Essex was so far healed as to admit of his return, although, indeed, Camden remarks, that the earl's overthrow was traced by his friends to this unfortunate quarrel. In August 1598, during the period of the earl's disgrace. Lord Burleigh died. Essex succeeded him as chancel- lor of Cambridge ; and, before the close of the year, he had received another appointment, intimately connected with the closing fortunes of his life. Having objected to the proposal that Lord Mountjoy should be constituted lord-deputy of Ireland — thus intimating, it is supposed, an inclination to accept of the office for himself — he was appointed by the queen to that critical post. In that misgoverned country a rebellion had been raised, headed by Hugh O'Neale, whom the queen had created Earl of Tyrone, against whom Sir John Norris and Sir Henry Bagnal had proved unsuccessful. It was in these circumstances that, with the view of vigorously prosecuting the Irish war, Essex was appointed. He himself objected to undertake the situation, except on certain conditions unacceptable to the queen. His friends, however, in lofty terms coui- raended his talents ; and his enemies — from hostile feelings, it has not without reason been supposed — concurred in the eulogiums. At last, in March 1599, with the tender farewell of the queen, and with the ac- clamations of the people, he set out for Ireland. His army consisted of 20,000 foot, and 1300 horse, and he was attended by a large train of gentlemen and nobles. His first act, after his arriving in Dublin, was to appoint his friend, the earl of Southampton, general of the horse. This was contrary to the will of Elizabeth, who, on hearing of the appoint- ment, enjoined her commander to recall it. Essex unsuccessfully at- tempted, by a statement of reasons, to satisfy her on the subject. Another cause of offence to Elizabeth was the conduct of the war. For, notwithstanding Essex's own objections to the inefficient manner in which measures had previously been pursued against the rebels, he was induced, by advice, respecting the unsuitableness of the season for marching against the rebels in Ulster, to make a previous attempt, in opposition to a slighter insurrection in another district of the country ; and when, after receiving from England an addition of 2000 foot, he proceeded, late in the season, against the Ulster rebels, his army, wasted by disease, was miserably reduced in number, and many of the soldiers deserted. On coming into contact with the rebels, there was a little fighting ; but, on Tyrone requesting a parley, Essex granted it. and met him on the bank of the ford of Ballyclinch, in the midst oi ' Criminal Trials. ; Lib. of Entertaaiimj Knowledge,; vol. i. p. 2y2. 622 POLITICAL SEEIES. [Fourth which the Irish chieftain sat, mounted on his horse. The result of th« conference was a truce, which was to be renewed at intervals of six weeks, but might be broi^en off by a fortnight's warning from either paity. Tliere seems also to have been a correspondence with Tyrone little creditable to the fidelity of Essex, who, attended by several of his offi- cers, held a second confei'ence with the rebel chief. Now, however, having seen visible signs of danger to his interests in England, from the real or apprehended asjDersions of his enemies, he suddenly betook him- self from his army, without her majesty's permission, attended by his household, and certain of his officers, leaving the government of Ireland to the archbishop of Dublin and Sir George Carew. It appears that he had even had some design of carrying along with him a considerable part of his troops, with a view to alarm his enemies at home. On reach- ing Nonsuch, where at that time Elizabeth held her court, he hurried up stairs, and advanced to the chamber of the queen. Though she was not yet completely dressed, he fell before her on his knees, and kissed her hand. She received him graciously, and, at a second interview, he met with a similar reception. But there were some Avho seem to have looked on him with other eyes ; among these was Sir Robert Cecil. In the evening of this very day, he appeared to have lost the favour of the queen. She asked an explanation of his conduct in returning ; and he was appointed to be examined that very night by several privy-coun- cilloi's. Next day there was a general meeting of the council, before whom he was accused of presumption in his correspondence, disobe- dience in his conduct of the war, extravagance in the distribution of knighthood, contempt and rashness in returning, and unseemly boldness in intruding into the chamber of the queen. The earl, who had pre- viously been commanded to remain in his chamber, calmly answered the charges. On the 2d of October, however, he was forbidden to at- tend at court, and intrusted to the lord-keeper. On the severity with which he was treated, there seemed at length to dawn some hope of royal favour. But a contrary effect was produced, when a letter from Tyrone was intercepted, representing the impossibility of inducing his comrades to acquiesce in the terms of truce to which he and Essex had agreed. The queen was incensed, and, notwithstanding the remon- strances of the council, the humble intercessions of the earl, and the faithful support of Lady Scrope — of whom Whyte remarks, that she suffered much from Elizabeth on account of her endeavours to prevail with her on behalf of Essex — the haughty princess declined to release him. At length, however, a sickness under which he laboured seemed to move her. She gave him liberty to see a few friends, and to walk in the garden ; and, on one occasion, she directed eight physicians to hold a consultation on his case. Their report being very unfavourable, she sent a kind message, declaring, that if it were honourable she would visit him. But this seems to have been rather a fit of compassion, started by a mournful and critical occasion, than the renewed approba- tion of oftended majesty. In course of time, even his wife was prevent- ed from paying him a daily visit. In March 1600, however, he was allowed to remove to his own dwelling, under the charge of the lord- keeper, for which act of clemency he presented submissive acknowledg- ments. At length, eighteen commissioners from the privy council wore ap- Pj£uiod.] ROBERT DEVEREUX, EARL OF ESSEX. G23 pointed far the consideration of his causp, which came before them on the 5tli of June, 1600. Tlie charjijos iiaving been hrou^lit forward b}- the crown-lawyers, iiickuling Francis Bacon, of wiiom tlie earl had formerly been the muniHcent beiu^factor, tlie latter on his knees de- livered a defence, in whicli, besides acknowlcdu:inf^ his misconduct, he apologized for certain of his measures. The discourse is said to have drawn tears from many of iho councillors, but they unanimously agreed that he sliould not continue to act as privy-councillor, earl-marshal, or master of the ordnance, and should remain in his own house until the queen should be pleased to remit the penalty. In August he was freed from imprisonment, but was still prohibited from attending court. He expressed an intention of living in retirement, but also a wish to be allowed to kiss the queen's hand, — a privilege, however, that was not afforded him. She also refused to renew a grant which he enjoyed of a monopoly of sweet wines. In making the request that she would do so, he declared, that, until his restoration to her favour, he meant to resemble the king, whose habitation was with the beasts of the field, who ate hay like an ox, and was wet with the dews of heaven. She replied that she was glad to find him in such a proper temper, and that she hoped his actions would correspond to his professions, but, in re- ference to his request to have the sweet wine monopoly renewed, ob- served, that an unmanageable beast must be stinted of his provender It is scarcely wonderful that Essex should at last have broken out in rude expressions respecting the queen, declaring, as he is reported to have done, that her mind Avas become as crooked as her carcase, — an insult which, if really reported to her, as it it is said to have been, may be supposed to have been little fitted to pacify her offended majesty. At Essex-house, an open table was kept, and sermons were delivered by puritans, to which the citizens were admitted. These arrangements, too, were probably displeasing to the queen. But, unfortunately, the earl was urged into more desperate schemes. SJr John Harrington, who had attended him to Ireland, and received from him the honour of knighthood, was now induced to leave him, according to his own ac- count, by the violent conduct he displayed. Harrington states that he spoke most unwisely of the queen, grounding on the case of his un- fortunate patron, the conclusion, that disappointed ambition quick- ly induces madness, — ^ a weighty and monitory lesson, if it ' find fit audience' of the tumultuous aspirant after power, and of the restless dependent on his prince's favour, — the Tantalus of the court. Besides corresponding with James VI. of Scotland, against the party of Cecil, which he represented as inclined to support a Spanish right to the Eng- lish throne in preference to that of James, and also with Lord Mount- ioy, his successor as lord-deputy in Ireland, Mhom he sought to in- duce to bring over troops, the earl co-operated with a council of six of his friends at Drury-house, respecting the carrying into effect of an attempt against his enemies. In the course of these pr^^paratory steps, he incurred suspicion at court, and on the 7th of February, 1601, by direction of the privy-council, he was summoned to ajjpear before them. On this he gathered round him some of his friends, and pointed out the appearance of danger. It was agreed to enter the city next * Nuc/ir. The passage referred to is given in Miss Aiken's Court of Elizoheth, v<.i!. ii. 1). 4/i3. 624 POLITICAL SERIES. [Fourth day with a band of two hundred gentlemen. A report was spread in the city of a design by Cobham and Raleigh against the life of Essex, who was to throw himself, in his attempt, on the support of tlie citi- zens of London, and if he succeeded in securing their assistance, was to use it for gaining access to the queen. In the moining of next day, which was Sunday, the 8th of Februar}-^, the lord-keeper and two other crown-ofRcers demanded entrance into Essex-house in the queen's name, and on entering by the wicket, saw the earl, with some of his friends, standing in the midst of a multitude of people. The lord- keeper conversed with him respecting these hostile appearances. Essex represented himself as injured by perfidy. During the conference, there was a tumult among the people, whom the lord-keeper, putting on his hat, commanded to lay down their arms and leave the place. On this, a cry of violence was raised, and Essex, remarking that he had to go to the city, but should soon return, drew his sword, and rushed out of his house accompanied by about two hundred men, hav- ing previously directed his visitors to be detained. Forthwith he pro- ceeded through the city, where he shouted, " For the queen, for the queen, — a plot is laid for my life !" Still a popular favourite, he was greeted with benedictions on his way. But from ignorance of his mean- ing, or indisposition to join so hazardous a cause, the citizens made no powerful movement on his side. The court-party, however, took mea- sures of defence. Lord Burleigh made his appearance, accompanied by a few horsemen. The palace was fortified, and troops were placed at Ludgate. On these, Sir Christopher Blount made an attack, and killed an officer ; but he himself was wounded and taken prisoner, and a young man of the same party was killed. After this skirmish, Essex, who had himself been shot through the hat, proceeded to Queenhithe, and thence to Essex-house, from which he found the prisoners he had left behind him gone. He fortified the house. It was soon surround- ed by the queen's troops, commanded by the lord-admiral and others. Sir Robert Sidney called for a sui'render, to which the earl at last consented. Next day he was taken to the Tower; and on the 19th lie was brought to trial in Westminster-hall, along witli his comrade, the earl of Southampton. When called vipon to lift up his hand, Essex remarked, " that he had, before that time, done it often at her majes- ty's command, for a better purpose." On the indictment being read, he pleaded not guilty. Sir Edward Coke, as attorney-general, deliver- ed an oration against him, in which he methodically considers, first, the c(uality of the rebellion, — secondly, the manner of it, — thirdly, the persons who engaged in it, — and fourthly, the person against whom it was committed, ending in these insolent terms, — " The earl would call a parliament, and himself decide all matters which did not make for his purpose. A bloody parliament would that have been, where my lord of Essex, that now stands all in black, would have worn a bloody robe 1 But now, in God's just judgment, he of his earldom shall be Robert the Last, that of a kingdom thought to be Robert the First." In prison, the earl was wrought upon by a divine chosen by him- self, but employed, it has been supposed, by government, to serve their own purposes. Essex, under this influence, is said to have made a full disclosure, confessing what had been proved against him on the trial, and mentioning certain persons confederate with him in the Period.] CLIFFORD, EARL OF CUMBERLAND. 62o scheme. He also asked forgiveness of those whom he had represented as his enemies. In rej^ard to his confession, however, it has Vjeeri remarked, and it may be proper to repeat, that wv. only know what was made known rcvspeetinj^ it by tiie queen and council. It seems also to be uncertain whether or not he requested to be executed privately. Doubt has even been thrown of late on tin; long familiar record of Elizabeth's vacillating conduct in regard to the signing of the warrant for his death.'^ For this fact, however, there is surely strong evidence in the statement of Camden and the character of the queen — how doubtful soever the story of Lady Southani})ton and the ring, as noticed in our life of Elizabeth, may be. At length, however, his doom was sealed, and on the 25th of February, 1601, he was brought to a scaffold erected within the Tower. The execution was private, but th(>re were a few spectators. One of these was Sir Walter Raleigh, but this is a matter of which different accounts are given.'° On the scaffold, Essex was attended by Dr Barlow. He de- nied having meant any violence to the person of the queen, but con- fessed that he was a most wretched sinner, and that his sins were more in number than the hairs of his head. As he laid down his neck on the block, he commended his soul to Jesus Christ, and after a delay, in the course of which he said, " O strike I strike 1" tlnee blows from the executioner severed his head from his body. Thus died, in the 34th year of his age, the gallant earl of Essex. Rash and imprudent he unquestionably was, nor can he be said to have always acted a brilliant pai-t in the enterprises, or an honourable one amidst the rivalries, of his short but active and eventful life. " Give me the man," says a well-known Roman poet, " who can be praised inde- pendently of death," '' and that the favourable interest felt in the life of Essex is, in a great degree, derived from the touching circumstances in which he closed it, it may be impossible to deny. Yet the gallantry of his nature, the beauty of his writings, and, it may be, the very ' flash and outbreak of his fiery mind,' still invest him with a certain moral radiance, which, false and unwarranted as perhaps in a great degree it is, may yet go far to explain the popularity which crowned him in his life-time. Cliffortr, €ail ot Cumtieilanlr BORN A. D. 1568. — DIED A. D. 1603. George Clifford, distinguished as a man of naval enterprise, was • Criminal Trials, ( Library of Entertaining Knowledge,) vol. i. p. 369, 370. " That Raleigh, however, in the closing days of Essex, was warmly opposed to him, seems evident from a Ictier of the former to Sir Robert Cicil, printed in INIurdon'.* State Papers, and republished in Dr Campbell's Lives of the British Admirals — Memoiv of Sir IV. Raleigh. " Let the queen hold Bothwell," says Sir Walter, " while she hath iiim. He will ever be the canker of her estate and safety. Princes are lo-t by secur- ity, and preserved by prevention. I have seen the last of her good days, and all ours, after his liberty.'' Dr Campbell considers the reference here to Bothwell as an allusion to the character and conduct of Stuart, earl of Bothwell, which the Doctor compares with those of Essi x, remarking, that " there is nothing more shrewd and sensible in the letter than the giving Essex the name." " " Hunc volo laiidari qui sine morte potest." — MartiaL I. i K 626 POLITICAL SERIES. [Fourth the son of the second, and grandson of the first, Clifford, earl of Cum- berland, the latter of whom, son of Lord Clifford, (who, disguised in his youth as a Westmoreland shepherd, on the accession of Henry VII., assumed the hereditary title,) was advanced to the earldom by Henry VIH. George Clifford was born in 1568, in the county of Westmoreland, and, by direction of Queen Elizabeth, whose ward he became by his father's death, proceeded to Cambridge, and studied un- der Dr Whitgift. At the university his mind was especially bent on mathematics — to which circumstance, it is little to be wondered at that liis future nautical distinction should have been in some degree attri- buted. So early as 1586, he fitted out a few ships, which, proceeding to the coast of America, made inroads on the trade of Portugal. In 1588, he commanded a ship against the Spanish armada, and took a distinguished part in an action fought on that memorable occasion, off the town of Calais. The defeat of this formidable attempt at the inva- sion of England, was followed by hostile expeditions undertaken by English subjects, though occasionally, at least, encouraged and assisted by the queen, against the Spanish power. Sir Francis Drake, after conducting one of the most considerable of these, which proved a disas- trous enterprise, was met on his way home by the earl of Cumberland, who had equipped a fleet of seven vessels, six of which were prepared at his own expense, the other being lent him by the queen. The earl was enabled, by granting a seasonable supply of provisions, to avert the death of many of Drake's crew, and proceeding onward to the Ter- ceiras, seized some prizes, one of which, estimated at £100,000, was lost in the return on the coast of Cornwall. Cumberland engaged in several other expeditions of the kind, but after a few voyages, always declined Elizabeth's proposals to lend him vessels of her own, because, it is alleged, of her imposing it as an express condition, that he should never lay any of her vessels on board a Spanish ship, the idea of which seems to have been associated in her mind with suspicions of fire anJ devastation. In one of these enterprises, undertaken in 1598, with a squadron of eleven ships, fitted out at his own expense, he sought to intercept a Lisbon fleet in its passage to India. Failing in this object, he proceeded to the Canaries, plundered the island of Lancerota, and went onwards to America. Landing at Puerto Rico, he took the ca- pital, for which he refused a ransom offered by the inhabitants. His object, it seems, was to make this his head-quarters, from which he might engage in cruising on the Spanish coasts. But disease spreading among his men, lie returned home. Indeed, although the earl, in his maritime career, was occasionally fortunate, yet, on the whole, he did greatly less to aggrandize his fortune than to manifest his zeal. But Cumberland was not merely a maritime adventurer, and, if his distinction chiefly rests on his foreign enterprise, his character would be very incompletely drawn, did we not advert to his eminence at court. He was one of the knights-tilters who graced that splendid scene, and proved eminently successful in the chivalrous amusements of the time. At these he wore, set with diamonds, on his high-crowned beaver, a glove, which her Majesty, by design or by accident, had dropped, and, on his taking it up, desired him to retain. On the re- tirement of Sir Henry Lee from the situation of queen's champion, the earl succeded him. The ceremonies of his installation were charac- Period.j CLIFFORD, EARL OF CUMBERLAND. G27 trristic of the time. After the knlf^lits-tilters had performed in courtly exercises, Sir Henry and his intended successor proceeded to tiie bot- tom of tlic gallery, where the queen and her retinur; were seated, ad- vancing to the sound of music, which was accompanied by a ditty in which a performer behind tlie scenes made mention of the ohi age and proposed retirement of the venerable champion. During this part of the ceremonial, there appeared a pavilion in imitation of a vestal tem- ple, in front of which stood an ornamented pillar, having a tablet at- tached to it, with tiie name of Elizabetii inscribed. The tablet was presented to the queen, as were also certain rich presents which had been laid on an altar within the pavilion. At the bottom of the pillar, the aged champion, now disarmed, offered to his royal mistress the ac- coutrements of his office, and then, on his knees, presented to her the earl of Cumberland, whom he prayed her to accept of as her knight. The queen assented — on which Sir Henry armed and mounted the earl, and invested his own person with a peaceful garb. Cumberland receiv- ed another honour from Elizabeth when, in 1591 or 1592, she pre- sented him with the order of the Garter, " which," says a biographer of the British admirals,^ " in her reign, was never bestowed till it had been deserved by signal services to the public." She seems also to have sought, by his instrumentality, to control the spirit of the earl of Essex, and, at the condemnation of that ill-fated favourite by the privy council, in 1600, Cumberland endeavoured to mitigate the sentence, to which, however, he assented, in expectation, he alleged, of Essex re- ceiving mercy from the queen. He was in great fiivour with Eliza- beth's successor, James VI., but died early in his reign. That event happened on the 30th of October, 1605. The earl's remains were con- veyed from the Savoy, London, to Skipton in Yorkshire, and there in- terred. Before his death he had squandered his fortune ; nor, high as he may rank as a man of talent, science, enterprise, and chivalry, is his memory as a husband free from the charge of cruelty. From his lad}-, a daughter of the earl of Bedford, he was separated, and for her future comfort he failed of making adequate provision. He was the last male heir of his family, but his only daughter Anne deserves a particular notice. This lady was born in 1589, at Skipton castle, and married, first to Lord Buckhurst, of whom she wi'ote a memorial, and afterwards to the earl of Pembroke. She erected a monument to the memory of the poet Daniel, who had been her instructor, and raised a similar me- morial over the honoured grave of Spenser. Nor must we here omit her famous answer to Sir Joseph Williamson, the secretary of state, who had proposed a member for the countess's burgh of Appleby : — " I have been bullied by an usurper, — I have been neglected by a court, — but I will not be dictated to by a subject, — ^your man sha'nt stand." Two hospitals and seven churches were either built or repaired b}'^ this high-spirited female — in whose character, it may be natural to recognise, acting in a different direction, and pervaded, perhaps, by nobler prin- ciples, the ardour and activity of mind which prompted her father's course of adventurous and persevering enterprise. ' Di J CampbeU. C28 POLITICAL SERIES. [Fourth BORN CIRC. A. D. 1540. — DIED A. D. 1604. Edward Vere, seventeenth earl of Oxford, was born in the year 1540 or 1341. His character presents an extraordinary union of the rudeness and impetuosity of a feudal baron with the mental accomplish- ments and personal graces of tlie scholar and travelled nobleman. Having spent some years of his early life in foreign travel, he is said to have imported not a few of the refinements and fopperies of other coun- tries into England. In particular, he is said to have been the first who introduced the use of embroidered gloves and perfumery ; he aped Italian dresses, and was called ' the mirror of Tuscanismo ;' yet he was not a mere petit-maitre, but held an honourable place among the chivalrous and fiery spirits of his age. In the manly exercises of the tilt and tournament he had few superiors ; and on one occasion he acquitted himself so gallantly in the jousts, that the fair umpires led him, all armed as he was, into the presence-chamber, to receive the prize from her majesty's hand. Soon after enjoying this distinguished honour, he incurred a disgrace equally marked and public, being com- mitted to the Tower for dishonourable conduct towards one of the queen's maids of honour. On other occasions, his fierce and lawless spirit burst forth with an impetuosity which defied all checks but those of absolute coercion and physical restraint. Having been wounded by Sir Thomas Knevet in a duel, which he had himself provoked, he sought to take open and fatal revenge upon his antagonist, and was only prevented carrying his bloody design into execution by the inter- ference of the queen, who also allowed Sir Thomas to keep a guard around his own person. He also publicly insulted the amiable Sir Philip Sidney in the tennis-court of the palace, and the queen could discover no other means of preventing fatal consequences than by en- treating Sir Philip to make an apology to the overbearing nobleman, hich Sir Philip did in compliance with her majesty's wishes, although he instantly retired from court in disgust. In 1586, the earl sat as great chamberlain of England on the trial of Mary, queen of Scots ; and, in 1588, we find him fitting out ships at his own expense against the armada. Thomas, duke of Norfolk, was the nephew of this noble- man, and on Burleigh refusing to intercede for the duke, Oxford got so incensed, that " in most absurd and unjust revenge," he forsook his own wife's bed, and sold or dissipated the greater part of that vast in- lieritance which had been bequeathed to him by his ancestors. He died in the early part of the reign of James I. This nobleman enjoyed in his own times a considerable poetical re- putation. Among his eulogists, are his contemporaries Lilly, Mun- day, and Spenser. His once celebrated comedies have perished, but some of his sonnets, which are preserved in the ' Paradise of Dainty Devices,' are not the worst in that curious collection. His lady was also a poetess. Some of her pieces are to be found m a collection of odes and sonnets, entitled ' Diana,' published by one John Southern. Peuiou.] sir EDMUND ANDERSON. 629 noRN CIRC. A. I). 1510. — i)ii;n a. d. 1605, Sir Edmund Anderson, an English lawyer of Scotch descent, was born about the year 1540, at Broughton, or Flixborough, in Lincoln- shire. He studied at Lincoln college, Oxforil, from whence he re- moved to the Inner Temple. In 1577, he was appointed sergeant-at- law to the queen, and the year afterwards, one of the justices of assize, in which character he distinguished himself by his unrelenting severity towards the Brownists while on the Norfolk circuit of 1581. In 1582, he was made lord-chief-justice of the common pleas, and the year following, received the honour of knighthood. He sat in the star-chamber when sentence of death was pronounced against Mary, queen of Scots ; and presided in the same court at Davison's trial. Anderson v/as justly considered an able lawyer, however, and ad- hered with rigorous exactness to the letter of the statutes. In the trial of Henry Cuffe, secretary to the earl of Essex, when the attorney-gen- eral was proceeding to argue the case on general principles, the chief- justice interrupted him, by observing, " I sit here to judge of law, and not of logic :" but when an advocate, in favour of his cause, urged the want of certain precedents, the lord-chief-justice replied, " What of that? shall we give no judgment because it is not adjudged in the books before? We will give judgment according to reason; and if there be no reason in the books, I will not regard them." He did not hesitate to oppose the queen when she stretched her prerogative be- yond the limit of the law ; and he joined with the rest of the judges, and the barons of exchequer, in a i*emonstrance against the arbitrary authority occasionally assumed by the court. Upon the accession of James I., lie was continued in office, and remained in it till his death, which happened in 1605. There can be no doubt that Sir Edmund was a sound lawyer; and, perhaps, on the whole, he was an honest man; but the intolerant and persecuting spirit which he manifested on all oc- asions towards the nonconformists, particularly in the case of Udal and Robert Brown, must for ever attach a stigma to his memory. His works are, ' Reports of Cases adjudged in the time of Queen Elizabeth, in the Common Bench,' in folio, London, 1644 ; and, ' Resolutions and Judgments in the Courts of Westminster,' published in 1653. The title is now extinct. Blount, €arl ot 33ebonsJ)irt* BORN A. D. 1563. — DIED A. D. 1G06. One of the most distinguished ornaments of Elizabeth's court, was Charles, second son of James, Lord Mountjoy. He was born in the year 1563, and destined to the profession of the law, for the fallen for- tunes of his family rendered it necessary for him to seek his subsistence by dint of his own honourable exertions. His grandfather had cur- tailed the family-revenue by the expenses into which he launched in 630 POLITICAL SERIES. [Fourth order to keep pace with the luxuries of Henry's court ; his father had rendered matters still worse by seeking to overcome all his embarrass- ments by the possession of the philosopher's stone ; and his elder bro- ther had nearly dissipated the remnant by the most profuse and unjus- tifiable prodigality. In these circumstances Charles not only resolved to push his own way through the world, but to restore the sinking hon- ours of his family. And it is recorded of him, that so early had this honourable desire taken possession of his bosom, that upon his parents proposing to have a portrait taken of him while yet a youth, he desired to be painted with a trowel in his hand, and this motto, — " Ad reaedifi- candam antiquam domum." Sir Robert Naunton has thus sketched his early manhood. " As he came from Oxford, he took the Inner temple on his way to the court, whither he no sooner came, but, without asking, he had a jjretty strange kind of admission, wdiich I have heard from a discreet man of his own, and much more of the secrets of these times. He was then much about twenty years of age ; of a brown hair, a sweet face, a most neat composure, and tall in his person. The queen was then at White- hall at dinner, whither he came to see the fashion of the court. The queen had soon found him out, and with a kind of affected frown, askea the lady-carver who he was. She answered she knew him not, inso- much as an inquiry was made from one to another who he might be, till at length it was told the queen he was brother to Lord William Mountjoy. This inquisition, with the eye of majesty fixed upon him (as she was wont to do, and to daunt men she knew not), stirred the blood of this young gentleman insomuch as his colour came and went, which the queen observing, called him unto her and gave him her hand to kiss, encouraging him with gracious woi'ds, and new looks ; and so, diverting her speech to the lords and ladies, she caid that she no sooner observed him but that she knew there was in him some noble blood, with some other expressions of pity towards his house; and then, again demanding his name, she said, ' fail you not to come to the court, and I will bethink myself how to do you good.' And this was his inlet, and the beginnings of his grace ; where it falls into consideration, that though he wanted not wit and courage, for he had veiy fine attractions, and being a good piece of a scholar, yet were they accompanied with the retractives of bashfulness and a natural modesty, which, as the tone of his house and the ebb of his fortunes then stood, might have hinder- ed his progression, had they not been reinforced by the infusion of sovereign favour-, and the queen's gracious invitation. And, that it may appear how low he was, and how much that heretic necessity will work in the dejection of good spirits, I can deliver it with assurance, that hiis exhibition was very scant until his brother died, which was shortly af ter his admission to the court, and then it was no more than a thousand marks per annum, wherewith he lived plentifully in a fine way and garb, and without any great sustentation, during all his time ; and as there was in his nature a kind of backwardness which did not befriend him, nor suit with the motion of the court, so there was in him an in- clination to arms, with a humour of travelling and gadding about, which, had not some wise men about him laboured to remove, and the queen herself laid in her commands, he would, out of his natural pru- pensioi;, have marred his own market " Period.] SIR FRANCIS DE VERE. 631 In 1594, he was appointed governor of Portsmouth, and in tlic same year lie succeeded to the l)aroiiy of Mountjoy on the deatli of his elder brother. He now stood high in the queen's good graces, and in 1597 was appointed lieutenant-general of the land forces in the expedition under Essex to the Azores. It is certain, that notwithstanding the queen's favour, the jealousy of Essex retarded the promotion of Mount- joy. But on the fall of that i'avourite he rapidly rose in honour and employments. He succecdtid Essex in the command in Ireland, and in two campaigns reduced that country to obedience ; thus fulfilling the (]ueen's ' prophetical speech,' as recorded by Naunton, " that it would be his fortune and his honour to cut the thread of that fatal rebellion, and to bring her in peace to the grave." James acknowledged and rewarded Mountjoy's merits, by appoint- ing him lord-lieutenant of Ireland, and creating him earl of Devon- shire. But he does not appear to have resided much in his government. He died on the 3d of April, 1606. Fynes Morrison, who had been the earl's secretary in Ireland, declares that " grief of unsuccessful love brought him to his last end," In early life he had privately inter- changed vows of attachment with Penelope, eldest daughter of Walter Devereux, earl of Essex. But he had not yet raised himself above the adversity which clouded iiis early ycaia, uad the parents of his lady love forced their daughter to give her hand to Robert, Lord Rich. A guilty connexion between the lovers followed ; and at last, Lady Rich aban- doned her husband, and tied to the arms of the earl, taking with her her five children, whom she declared to be his issue. The earl received the unfoi'tunate woman, and on her divorce from Lord Rich, was mar- ried to her on December, 1605. He survived this wretched union but a few months. BORN A. D. 153-1: DIED A. D. 1G08. Fraxcis De Verb, the second son of Geoffrey De Vere, and grand- son of John De Vere, fifteenth earl of Oxford, was born at Castle-Hen- ninghara, in Essex, or, according to others, at Colchester, in the year 1554. His ancestors, from the first arrival of the family in the person of Alaric De Vere, who accompanied the Conqueror to England, had filled the most honourable posts under their respective sovereigns. At an early age the young Francis was put to study ' the noble profes- sion of arms ;' but it was not until his thirty-first year that he had an opportunity of witnessing actual service. In December, 1585, he ac- companied the English expedition to Flushing, as a volunteer, and soon afterwards attached himself to the gallant Sir Philip Sidney, whose death he witnessed in the battle of Warnsfield. In 1587 he gallantly assisted in the defence of Sluys, and next year served in the defence of Bergen-op-Zoom, under Lort4 VVilloughby. On this occasion he was intrusted with the command of two companies of foot, and the impor- tant charge of the island of Toretole ; but after that the duke of Parma had converted the siege into a blockade, De Vere solicited and ob- tained permission to occupy one of the two forts situated between the 632 POLITICAL SERIES. [Fourth town and the river, in the defence of which, our young soldier per- ceived more glory was to be obtained than in service within the walls. Here he lured a strong detachment of the duke's army into a snare, by which 500 men were cut off, and a general panic diffused through- out the besieging army, in consequence of which the siege was hastily abandoned. De Vere's eminent services on this occasion were rewarded with the honour of knighthood, and from this period his name holds a distinguished place in the aimals of English warfare. In the spring of 1589, De Vere commanded a body of 600 of his countrymen, under Prince Maurice, the general-in-chief of the Dutch forces. In this service, with a force of only 800 men, he successful!) defended the island of Voorn against Mansteldt's forces, then amount- ing to 12,000, and compelled that general to change the plan of his campaign. The next service which he rendered the States was the re- lief of Bergh upon the Rhine, then closely besieged by the marquess of . Warrenbon, and suffering severely for want of provisions. Arriving, at the head of a small force, in the rear of the enemy's lines, he boldly charged through them, threw in the much-needed supplies, and then cut his way back again to Caleti. But the garrison of Bergh was soon as much distressed as ever for want of provisions, and the investing corps had meanwhile received considerable reinforcements, whereupon the States desired Sir Francis to throw in a fresh supply. The commis- sion appeared almost a desperate one, yet it was instantly undertaken by him. With admirable dexterity he led the convoy through a nar- row defile in the face of overwhelming numbers, and entered Bergh without the loss of a single waggon. His retreat was still more suc- cessfully executed. Quitting the town under cover of a thick fog, and pursuing a new route, he entirely escaped the notice of the besieging forces, and arrived safely at his original station, bringing along with him his wounded men in the empty waggons. In the succeeding summer, De Vere's services were demanded to relieve the castle of Litkenhooven, which he at once undertook, though unprovided with a single piece of artillery, and achieved with small loss. On his return through the country of Cleves, having learned that Burick on the Rhine was in the hands of the enemy, he resolved to regain it, and after having been twice driven back by the garrison of the citadel, the place was put into his hands by the governor at the moment preparations were making for a third attack. The return of the duke of Parma rendered it necessary for Prince Maurice to con- centrate his divisions, and De Vere's detachment was ordered to Dees- burg. Here it was intimated to him that the prince intended to invest Zutphen, and in order to facilitate the siege, De Vere made himself master of a strong fort in the neighbourhood, by a stratagem which is thus related by himself in his Commentaries : " I chose," he says, " a good number of lusty and hai-dy young soldiers, the most of which I apparelled like the countrywomen of those parts, the rest like the men : gave to some baskets, to others packs, and such burthens as the people usually carry to the market, with pistols and short swords, and daggers under their garments, willing them, by two or three in a company, by break of day, to be at the ferry of Zutphen, which is just against the fort, as if they staid for the passage-boat of the town ; and bade them there to sit and rest themselves in the meantime, as near the gate oi Period.] SIR FRANCIS DE VERB. 633 the fort as they could for avoiding; suspicion, and to seize upon the same as soon as it was opened, wiiicii tootc so ^ood (iii'cct, that they possessed the entry of tlie fort, and lield tiie same till an officer with two hundred soldiers — who was laid in a covert not far ott" — -came to their succour, and so became fully master of the place. By which means the siege of the town afterwards proved the shorter." The fall of Zutphen was followeil by the surrender of Devent(!r, and the advance of Prince Maurice into Friesland, from whence he was sud- denl}-^ recalled by the States-general, on the appearance of the duke oi Parma in the Beltow, one of those large islands formed betwixt the Rhine and the Waal. The duke had formed the siege of Kosenburg, a castle which protects the ferry of Nimeguen, before Maurice came up ; and the latter despaired of being able to drive so consummate a general from the strong position in which he now found him. Not so De Vere. He attentively reconnoitred the position of the enemy, and quickly de- vised a plan for leading him into an ambuscade, in which he so effectually succeeded, that the duke, disheartened by the loss of a large body of his finest cavalry, instantly raised the siege, and retreated " with more dishonour than in any action that he had undertaken in these warres." We hear no more of our gallant countryman till the year 1596, ex- cepting that, in 1592, he was chosen member of parliament for the borough of Leominster. It is certain, however, that he continued in the military employment of the States until 1596, when he was recalled to take part in the expedition against Cadiz, j)rompted by Elizabeth's high-admiral. On the 10th of June that year, the armament, consisting of 15,000 men and 150 ships, put to sea, and on the 1st of July arrived at the mouth of Cadiz bay. It v/as immediately resolved to force the entrance to the bay, and drive the Spanish fleet, which was laid across it, from its moorings. In this service De Vere bore, as usual, a distin- guished part ; and the subsequent capture of the town was mainly attri- butable to his gallant and judicious conduct. His opinion, however, that the place should be retained, was overruled, and orders given for its destruction, after which the troops leisurely re-embarked. It is re- corded, to the immortal honour of De Vere and his companions, that, on this occasion, not a single life was taken in cold blood, nor had a single female to complain that she had suffered violence or insult from an Englisli soldier. De Vere, however, informs us that " he got three prisoners on the occasion worth 10,000 ducats; one a churchman and president of the contradutation of the Indies, the other two ancient knights." On the return of the Spanish expedition to England, De Vere spent a few months at court, and then set out again for the Low countries. But he had scarcely put foot on the old theatre of his military exploits, when he was summoned to repair to England to assist in planning and executing an enterprise against the Spanish West India fleet. The failure of this expedition is well known. Essex, the commander, return- ed balHed and dispirited, and his enemies keenly endeavoured to turn the queen's resentment against him ; but De Vere, though he had felt himself aggrieved by the appointment of Lord Mountjoy to the first command, nobly disdained to take advantage of Essex in his hour of humiliation, and, on his presentation at court, spoke so warmly in his favour, that he completely removed the impression which the enemies 1. 4l of Essex liad made on the queen. " This office I performed to his lordship," says he, " to the grieving and bitter incensing of the contrary party against mo, when, notwithstanding, I had discovered, as is afore- said, in ray reconcilement his lordship's coldnesse of affection to me, and had plainly told my lord himself mine own resolution, in which I still persisted not to follow his lordship any more to the warres ; yet, to make a full return as I could for the good favour the world supposed his lord- ship bore me, fearing more to incurre the opinion of ingratitude than the malice of any enemies, how great soever, which the delivery of truth could procure me." De Vere's reward for this and other services was his appointment to the governorship of Brille. Before he had resided two months here, he plan- ned an enterprise for the taking of Turnhoult, which completely succeeded, although the conduct of Prince Maurice prevented the forces of the States from reaping all the advantages of the movements which De Vere had suggested. In January 1598, De Vere returned to England, and pre- sented himself at court, where he seems to have been but indifferently received. He then retired to the Hague, where he continued to reside till recalled by his royal mistress on the threat of an invasion. In 1599 we find him again in the field with Prince Maurice, and, contrary to what might have been expected from him, counselling the prince to be cautious how he attempted to carry the war into Flanders. His advices, though not wholly disregarded, were in the main overlooked ; and the result was, that the archduke Albert, who commanded the Spanish forces, soon pressed upon the small army of the States, and compelled Maurice to risk a battle against great odds. De Vere's admirable dis- positions, however, secured the victoiy for the patriots, and won for him, from all competent judges, a place in the first rank of military commanders. The defeat of the Spaniards was complete, although the whole brunt of the battle was borne by De Vere's English troops alone. The last and most illustrious military service performed by De Vere was the defence of Ostend against the archduke Albert, who had placed it suddenly in a state of siege. The force of the besiegers exceed 13,000 men ; the total force under De Vere's command did not exceed 2400 ; yet with this comparatively insignificant garrison, scarcely amounting to one half of the number required for manning the fortifications, did he battle the utmost efforts of the archduke to get possession of the place. Once only did De Vere condescend to negotiation with his powerful antagonist, for the purpose of gaining time. The questionable strata- gem succeeded, and the arrival of reinforcements enabled him again to hurl defiance at his proud foe, which he did in the following laconic note : — " We have heretofore held it necessary, for certain reasons, to treat with the deputies which had authority from your higlinesse ; but whilst we were about to conclude upon the conditions and articles, there ar§ arrived certain of our ships of warre, by whom we have received part of that which we had need of; and that we cannot, with our honoui and oath, continue the treaty, nor proceed in it, which we hope that your highnesse will not take in ill part ; and that, nevertheless, when your power shall reduce us to the like estate, you will not refuse, as a most generous prince, to vouchsafe us again a gentle audience. From our town of Ostend, 25th day of December, 1601. Francis De Vfbe." Period.! SIH FRANCIS DE VERB. 636 Nothing could now exceed the indignation of the archduke, vho swore a solemn oath tiiat ho would spare no living thing within tiie walls of the devoted town, and instantly issued orders to prepare for the assault. On the 8th of January, the assault conimeneed soon after mid- night ; but the assailants were so wannly received that, atler a despe- rate conHict, they were compelled to retire with a loss of 2000 men. Notwithstanding this gallant and successful conduct. Do Vere was shortly afterwards superseded in the command of Ostend by General Dorp. In June 1603, we find him in attendance at the court of St James's. The next year, the conclusion of peace between England and Spain compelled James to withdraw his troops from the Low countries, and led, therefore, to the dismissal of De Vere from the military employment which he held under the States. On the 28th of August, 1608, Sir Francis died at his own house in London, in the 54th year of his age. He was interred in St John's chapel, Westminster, where a fine monument was erected to his memorj' by his widow, the daughter of a London citizen. He had three sons and two daughters, all of whom died before him. " Sir Francis Vere," says Sir Robert Naughton, " was of that ancient and most noble extract of the earls of Oxford ; and it may be a question whether the nobility of his house, or the honour of his achievements, might most commend him ; but that we have an authentic rule, — ■ Nam genus et proavos et qus non fecimus ipsi, Vix ea nostra voco. For though he was an honourable slip of that ancient tree of nobility, which was no disadvantage to his virtue, yet he brought more glory to the name of Vere than he took blood from the family. He was, amongst all the queen's swordsmen, inferior unto none, but superior unto many ; of whom it may be said, to speak much of him were to leave out some- what that might add to his praise, and to forget more than would make to his honour. I find not that he came much to court, for he lived almost perpetually in the camp ; but when he did, none had more of the queen's favour, and none less envied ; for he seldome troubled it with the noise and alarms of supplications, — his way was another sort of undermining They report that the queen, as she loved martial men, would court this gentleman as soon as he appeared in her presence ; and surely he was a soldier of great worth and command, — thirty years in the service of the States, and twenty years over the English in chief, as the queen's general I" De Vere was a man of letters, as well as an accomplished general, and wrote an account of the principal military transactions in which he was engaged, which was published from his MSS. by Dr William Dilling- ham, in 1657, under the title of ' The Coramentaries of Sir Francis Vere.* 636 ECCLESIASTICAL SERIES. [Foueth IL— ECCLESIASTICAL SERIES. Cardinal Bourcjien DIED A. D. 1487. Thomas Bourchier, archbishop of Canterbury in the successive reigns of Henry VI., Edward IV., Edward V., Richard III., and Henry VII., was descended from an illustrious family, being the son of William Bourchier, earl of Ewe in Normandy. He was educated at Oxford, and was chancellor of that university from 1433 to 1437. His first ecclesiastical preferment was that of dean of the collegiate church of St Martin's, London, from which, in 1433, he was advanced by Pope Eugenius IV. to the see of Worcester. Within one year of his elevation to the prelacy, the monks of Ely, on the death of their bishop, made choice of Bourchier as his successor, but the king refused his consent to the translation, and that see continued vacant for seven years, at the end of which period Bourchier succeeded in obtaining the royal consent to his removal. The author of the ' Historia Elien- sis' accuses Bourchier of neglect of duty and oppressive conduct dur- ing the time he filled that see : nevertheless, it would appear, that the monks of Canterbury, though left entirely to their own will in the matter, unanimously elected him archbishop of Canterbury, in the room of John Kemp, in 1454. Shortly after his elevation to the pri- macy, he was created cardinal-priest of St Cyriacus in Thermis. The cardinal appears to nave been a pious well-meaning man, but little qualified to head the church during so convulsed a period as that through which his primacy extended. Richard's sophistry prevailed on him to persuade the queen to place her infant son in his murderous uncle's hands, and he abandoned the child to his fate when his own credit and favour at court might have been endangered by any inter- ference on his behalf. Yet, it was probably to the very mediocrity of his talents, and softness of his character, that he was indebted for his own ]jersonal preservation during the fiercest struggles of the Yorkists and Lancastrians ; he saw successive princes of both parties mount the throne, and lived to perform the ceremony which united the two sur- viving branches of these deadly foes, having officiated at thi marriage of Henry VII. and Elizabeth of York. Fuller quaintly observes, " his hand first held that sweet posie wherein the white and red roses were tied together." Bourchier was a man of considerable learning, but we possess no works of his except a few synodical decrees. The noble art of printing lies under considerable obligations to him, if we may credit Wood, whose account, however, of the matter, is not altogether accurate. He states, that " the archbishop being informed that the inventor, Tossan, alias John Guthenberg, had set up a press at Harlem, was extremely desirous that the English should be made masters of so beneficial an art. To this purpose he persuaded King Henry VI. to despatch one TiiRioD.] ARCHBISHOP MORTON. 637 Ilobort Turnour, belonginp; to the wardrobe, privately to Harlem. Tliis man, furnislicd with a thousand marks, of wliich the archbisliop Buppliod tliree hundred, endjarked for Holland ; and to disguise the matter, went in company with one Caxton, a merchant of London, pre- tendiiii^ lumself to be of the same profession. Tims concealing his /lanio and his business, he went iirst to Amsterdam, then to Leyden, and at last settled at Harlem ; where, having spent a great deal of time and money, he sent to the king for a fresh supply, giving his highness to unilerstand, that he had almost compassed the enterprise. In short, he persuaded Frederick Corselli, one of the compositors, to carry off a set of letters, and embark with him in the night for London. When they arrived, the archbishop, thinking Oxford a more convenient ])lace for printing than London, sent Corselli down thither ; and lest he should slip away before he had discovered the whole secret, a guard was set upon the press ; and thus the mystery of printing appeared ten years sooner in the university of Oxford than at any other place in Europe, Harlem and Mentz excepted. Not long after, there were presses set up at Westminster, St Albans, Worcester, and other monas- teries of note." BORX A. D. MIO DIED A. D. 1500. This eminent prelate and statesman was born at Bere in Dorset- shire in the year 1410. He studied at Oxford, where he was appoint- ed principal of Peckwater Inn, and moderator of the civil law school. After a variety of ecclesiastical preferments, he was created archdeacon of Winchester in 1474, but in the same year was collated to the arch- deaconry of Chester. His eminent abilities as a civilian recommended him to the notice of Cardinal Bourchier, who introduced him to the notice of Henry VI. In 1473 he was created bishop of Ely and lord-chancellor of England by that prince. His faithful adherence to the family of Edward IV. exposed him to the dreaded displeasure of the protector, Richard, who caused him to be apprehended on a charge of treason, but through the intercession of the university of Oxford, or some other potent advocate, was afterwards persuaded to release him, and give him in ward to the duke of Buckingham. Soon after this, he escaped from the duke's castle at Brecknock, and hastened in disguise to the continent, where he attached himself to the fortunes of Henry, earl of Richmond. It is understood to have been chiefly at the insti- gation of this prelate that the marriage was first suggested betwixt Henry and Edward's eldest daughter, Elizabeth, by means of which a union was ultimately effected betwixt the two rival houses of York and Lancaster. As soon as Henry VII. was seated on the throne, preferment again flowed in upon Morton, and, on the death of Bourchier, he was elect- ed to the primacy by the monks of Canterbury. In 1487, he was con- stituted lord-chancellor of England, which ofl[ice he retained till his death. To the favour in which he stood with an unpopular sovereign, Morton was indebted for the dislike which the people, on more occa- 638 ECCLESIASTICAL SERIES. [Tourtb sions than one, evinced towards him ; and it does appear tliat the arch- bishop lent himself, with others of Henry's counsellors, to the unjust schemes of that monarch for enriching his private treasury. But Mor- ton was himself a man of constant and profuse liberality. To the uni- versity of Oxford, he was at all times a munificent patron, and he ex- pended large sums in building and repairing various public and eccle- siastical edifices within his diocese. One of the last acts of his life was to procure the canonization of Anselm, archbishop of Canterbury. He died on the 15th of September, 1500, and was interred in Canter- bury cathedral. His life was written by Dr John Budden, in 1607 ; Sir Thomas More, in his Utopia, has pronounced a high eulogium upon this prelate. His contemporaries speak of him with much respect ; and we are compelled to believe, that while he necessarily shared the odium attached to all Henry the Seventh's ministers, he acted the part of a true and faithful counsellor towards his sovereign, and often gave the king an honest opinion as to the probable effect of those measures bv which the people were so grievously distressed and irritated. DIED A. D. 1500. John Alcock, bishop of Ely and lord-high-chancellor of Eng- land, was born at Beverley in the east riding of Yorkshire. The date of his birth is not recorded; it was probably somewhere between 1430 and 1440. He became a great favourite with Edward IV. who first made him dean of Westminster, then bishop of Rochester, in the year 1471, and afterwards keeper of the great seal in 1473. Three years after he was translated to the bishopric of Worcester, and, in 1486, to that of Ely. In the same year he was appointed by Henry VII. lord-chancellor of England. Bale speaks in high terms of liis piety and self-mortification. By others he is commended for his learning. It is difficult, however, to judge of the amount of learning possessed by any individual in those dark and illiterate times. It is certain that most of the knowledge to be any where found, was among the clergy, and, in general, the most distinguished among them were conversant merely with school divinity and the canon and civil law. There can be no doubt, however, that our bishop was highly esteemed in his da}^, and that his ecclesiastical and civil honours were the reward of his talents and learning. On account of his great skill and taste in architecture, Henry VII. appointed him comptroller of the royal works and buildings. While bishop of Worcester, he held the Oilice of president of Wales. He employed his power and riches to some useful purposes. In the town of Kingston-upon-Hull, he built and endowed a grammar school and a chapel in which lie was buried. At the episcopal palace of Ely, he erected the spacious hall and gallery; but he was most famous as the founder of Jesus' college, Cambridge. Godwin, in his Lives of the Bishops, gives the following account of this undertaking. " It was first a monastery of nuns, dedicated to Saint Radegund, and having fallen greatly in decay, the goods and ornaments of the church wasted, the lands diminished, and the nuns themselves Period.] FOX, BISHOP OF DURHAM. 639 liaving forsaken it, insomuch as only two were left, whereof one was determined to begone shortly, the otiier hut an infant: this good bishop obtained license of King Hcuiry VII. to convert the same to a coUego-- wherein he placed a master, six fellows, and a certain number of scho- lars." The reason of the demolition of tins nunnery given by Camden, IS however very different. He says it was spirUtialinm meretricium ccenobiuni, and that Pope Julius II. with Henry VII. consented to its suppression. The bishop died October 1st, 1500. "He lieth" says Godwin, •' buried in a chappell of his own building, on the north side of the presbytery, where it is to be seen a very goodly and sumptuous tombe, erected in memory of him, which by the babarous and dottish peevish- ness of somebody is pitifully defaced, the head of the image being broke oti', the compartiment and other buildings torne downe." The bishop wrote the following works: 1. ' Mons Perfectionis ad Carthusianos :' otherwise called in English the ' Mount of Perfection,' London 1301. 2. ' Gaili Cantus ad Confratres suos curatos in Syuado apud Barnwell,' 1498. 3. 'Abbatia Spiritus sancti in Pura Conscientia Fundata.' The same in English under the title of ' A Matere, spekjng of a place that is named the Abbaje of the Holy Ghost that shall be founded or grounded in a clene conscjence, in which Abbaye shall dwelle xxix Ladyes Ghostly.' 4. ' In Psalmos Penitentiales.' 5. ' Homiliaj Vulgares.' 6. ' Meditationes Piae.' 7. * Spousage of a virgin to Christ.' 8. ' Sermon on Jesus clamabat, qui habet aures audiendi audiat.' DIED A. D. 1528. This eminent prelate was born towards the latter end of the reign of Henry VI., at Ropesley, near Grantham in Lincolnshire. The grammar-schools of Boston and Winchester dispute the honour of his early education. He subsequently studied first at Oxford, and then at Cambridge, from which latter university he removed to Paris, where he studied divinity and the canon law, and probably received his doc- tor's degree. It was during his residence in the metropolis of France that he became acquainted with Bishop Morton, and through him was introduced to the earl of Richmond, afterwards Henry VII. That nobleman thought so highly of his talents and integrity that he em- ployed him in various missions connected with his English expedition, and rewarded his diligence therein with a seat in the privy-council and some substantial appointments, when success had crowned their exertions. In 1487, he was advanced to the see of Exeter, and ap- pointed keeper of the privy seal. He was also, about the same time, made principal secretary of state. These various appointments threw an immense load of political business upon the bishop, and, in addition to his employments at home, he was repeatedly despatched upon foreign embassies, in all of which he acquitted himself entirely to the satisfaction of the king, who acknowledged his services by successive translations from the see of Exeter to that of Bath, and from Bath to Durham. In 1497, he bravely defended the ciistle of Norhara, in thp 640 ECCLESIASTICAL SERIES. [Fourth latter diocese, against the Scottish forces, until the approach of How- ard, earl of Surrey, compelled the assailants to retire. Shortly after this he was sent a third timo into Scotland for the purpose of negotiating a treaty betwixt the two kingdoms. He discharged this embassy with his usual promptitude and success, and soon afterwards added to his many important services that of negotiating a marriage betwixt James IV. of Scotland and Margaret, Henry's eldest daughter. In 1500, he was elected chancellor of the university of Cambridge. Between the years 1307 and 1514, he was repeatedly employed in missions to foreign courts. His last public act appears to have been that of witnessing the treaty of amity between Henry VIII. and Francis I. His political influence, however, had gradually waned since the death of Henry VII. before the ascendency, first, of the earl of Surrey, and, afterwards, of Wolsey, who had been first introduced by Fox himself. He took leave of public life, along with Archbishop Warham, in 1515, and devoted his retirement at Winchester to acts of charity and munificence. Architecture was a favourite art of his ; and Milner — an excellent judge — speaking of the repairs and alterations which the bishop executed upon his cathedral of Winchester, declares that " if the whole cathedral had been finished in the style of this por- tion of it, the whole island, and perhaps all Europe, could not have exhibited a Gothic structure equal to it." ' His last appearance in par- liament was in 1523. He was then very infirm and blind ; but had sufficient vigour of mind left to enable him to reprove, with dignity, the greedy and ungrateful Wolsey, who wished him to resign his bishopric to him, and accept of a pension instead of it. He died on the 14th of December, 1528. His character was that of a liberal and hospitable prelate, magnificent in his taste, and unbounded in his chari- ties. In his political capacity he sho\»'ed great aptitude for public business, and maintained a character of unimpeachable integrity. Of his writings we have only a translation of the ' Rule of St Benedict,' executed for the use of his diocese, and published in 1516, and a letter to Cardinal Wolsey on his intended visitation and reforma- tion of the English dioceses. By royal license, dated 26th November, 1516, Bishop Fox founded and endowed Corpus Christi college, in the university of Oxford. In this instance, the bishop, as Mr Warton ob- serves, made a new and noble departure from the narrow principles which had hitherto regulated academical education in England. The course of the Latin lecturer was thrown open to all the students at Ox- ford, and he was expressly directed to drive barbarism from the new college, — " barbariem e nostro alveario pro virili si quandu pullulet, ex- tirpet et ejiciat." The Greek lecturer was also enjoined to confine his prelections to the best Greek classics, and those which the bishop speci- fied are still allowed to furnish the purest specimen of that noble literature. With the same enlightened views, the bishop invited to his new college many of the most distinguished sons of letters then known in Europe; amongst these was Ludovicus Vives, Nicholas Crucher, Clement Ed- wards, Nicholas Utten, Thomas Lupset, and Richard Pace. Yet, strange to say, it was not without difficulty that the university consent- ed to the introduction of Greek literature into its curriculum at this ' Hist, of Winchester, vol. ii. p. 20- Period.] AUCHBISHOP WARHAM. 641 period ; and the bisho]) was obliged to plead the authority of the coun- cil of Vit'Miie in Dauphiiiy, ])roiiiuiged in 1311, wliicli enjoined that profcssorshijjs of Greek, Hebrew, and Arabic, should be instituted in the universities of Oxford, Paris, Bononia, Salamanca, and Rome. Nor was even this altogether satisfactory to the masters of Oxford ; it required the example and persuasions of Erasmus, then residing in St Mary's college, to silence tiieir objections and win their consuut to tlie establishment of a Greek chair in the university. ^i-cPi0j)op TOai1)am. DIED A. D. 1532. This distinguished prelate was born of good family, at Okely, m I lampshire. He was educated at Winchester school and New college, Oxford. In 1488, he was collated to a rectorship by the bishop ot" Ely, and soon after became an advocate in the court of arches, and moderator of the school of civil law in St Edward's parish, Oxford. In 1493, he was associated wath Sir Edward Poynings in an embassy to Philip, duke of Burgundy, to persuade him to deliver up Perkin Warbeck. The negotiation failed, and Henry was at first disposed to resent this on his ambassadors, but, soon after, we find Warham high in favour with the king, and, in 1502, made keeper of the great seal. In the beginning of 1503, he was advanced to the see of London, hav- ing been previously created lord-high-chancellor of England. He strong- ly opposed the marriage of Catharine of Arragon to the king's second son, after the death of her first husband, Prince Arthur ; he told the king that he thought the projected match would neither prove honour- able to himself nor well-pleasing to God ; but Fox's doctrine, that the pope's dispensation could remove all impediments, civil or sacred, was more pleasing to Henry, and of course prevailed. In March, 1504, Bishop Warham was elevated to the primacy. His installation was conducted with great magnificence. In 1506, he was elected chancellor of Oxford — an honour to which he was justly entitled, by his munificent and well-directed patronage of learning. On the accession of Henry VIII. the archbishop's influence waned before that of Bishop Fox, but he held his place of chancellor for the first seven years of the new reign. The rise of Wolsey into favour also greatly contributed to lessen the archbishop's influence, and ultimateh' drove him altogether from public life. Warham, says Burnet, always hated Cardinal Wolsey, and would never stoop to him, esteeming it below the dignity of his see. Erasmus relates of Warham, that it was his custom to wear very plain apparel, and that when Wolsey took upon him to publish an order that all the clergy should appear richly dressed in silk or damask, at the interview of Henry and Charles, Warham, alone, despising the cardinal's injunction, attended in his usual simple garb. In December, 1515, Warham resigned the seals, and Wolsey became lord-chancellor. In 1529, on the degradation of Wolsey, the great seal was again offered to Warham, but he prudently declined, at his advanced age, again entering upon the stormy and fickle sea of politics. He, soon after this, appears to have sunk into a I. 4 m C42 ECCLESIASTICAL SERIES. [ForRXR state of dotage; for we find him at one time entirely duped by the silly pretences of the ' Holy Maid of Kent,' as she was called, and at another exhibiting a very silly and unmeaning protest against all the laws that had been made, or that should thereafter be made, in deroga- tion of the authority of the pope, or to the hurt of the church's rights and privileges. He died at St Stephen's, near Canterbury, in 1532. It appears, fi-om a letter of Erasmus to Sir Thomas More, that this pre- late, notwithstanding of his having occupied the highest posts in church and state for a long series of years, had so little regarded his own pri- vate advantage that he left no more than was barely sufficient to pay his funeral charges. Erasmus gives us a very pleasing account of Warham's private life. " That," says he, " which enabled him to go through such various cases and employments, was, that no part of his time, nor no degree of his attention, was taken up with hunting, or gaming, in idle or tritlin conversation, or in luxury or voluptuousness. Instead of any diver- sions or amusements of this kind, he delighted in the reading of some good and pleasing author, or in the conversation of some learned man. And although he sometimes had prelates, dukes, and earls as his gue.-ts. he never spent more than an hour at dinner. The entertainnu nt which he provided for his friends was liberal and splendid, and suitable to the dignity of his rank, but he never touched any dainties of the kind himself. He seldom tasted wine ; and when he had attained the age of seventy years, drank nothing, for the most part, but a little small beer. But notwithstanding his great temperance and abstemious ness, he added to the cheerfulness and festivity of every entertainment at which he was present, by the pleasantness of his countenance, and the vivacity and agreeableness of his conversation. The same sobriety was seen in him after dinner as before. He abstained from supper altogether, unless he happened to have any very familiar friends with him, of which number I was; when he would, indeed sit down to table, but then could scarcely be said to eat any thing. If that did not hap- pen to be the case, he employed the time by others usually appropriat- ed to suppers, in study or devotion. But as he was remarkably agree- able and facetious in his discourse, but without biting or buftbonery, so he delighted much in jesting freely with his friends. But scurrility, de- famation, or slander lie abhorred and avoided as he would a snake. In this manner did this great man make his daj's sufficiently long, of the shortness of which many complain." BORN A. D. 150G. — DIED A. D. 1533. This learned and pious man was born at Westerham, in Kent. He proceeded B. A. at King's college, Cambridge, but afterwards went to Oxford, where he obtained great reputation for learning, and was cho- sen one of the junior canons of Cardinal Wolsey's new college. Be- coming acquainted with the celebrated Tyndale, he ultimately embrao* ed the doctrines of the Reformation, as taught by tliat eminent man, and. having openly avowed his new aentiments, he was imprisoned, Period.] JOHN FRITH. 643 with soino othor yotins,' men of the same convictions and hohlness, by the chancellor of the university. The rigour of this imprisonment was so seven> that some; of his companions in persecution (Irooj)e(l under it, but Frith ultimately obtained his release, and, about th(! year 1528, went abroad. He continued on the continent for about two years, and was greatly strengthened in the faith by intercourse, during that period, with many of the German and French reformers. Returning to England in 1530, he was aj)prehended as a common vagabond, and confined in the stocks at Reading, in Berks, where he was in rlanger of perishing with hunger but for the interposition of the schoolmaster of the place, who, perceiving that Frith was a scholar, and well ac- quainted with the classics, interested himself in his behalf, and effected his release. After this, he went to London, where he was in continual danger of apprehension by the commands of Sir Thomas More, the lord-chancellor, whose resentment was peculiarly excited against him by the circumstance of Frith having refuted one of his own publications in defence of the church of Rome. The origin of this controversy was as follows : — Simon Fish, of Gray's inn, had written a tract, entitled, ' The Supplication of the Beggars ; ' avowedly levelled against tlie system of mendicity carried on by the Romish friars. The work was much admired by the scholars of the time, and even honoured with Henry the Eighth's approbation. But the lord- chancellor, notw thstanding, ventui'ed to answer it in a tract, entitled, ' The Supplication of the Souls in Purgatory ; ' in which he defended the friars, on the ground of the value of their exertions in relieving souls from purgatory. Frith, hereupon, answered the chancellor, and boldly denied the doctrine of purgatory altogether. So daring a step marked him out for the vengeance of the church ; but, for a while, he eluded all the efforts of his enemies to secure his person. At last, he was betrayed into their hands by the treachery of a false friend, who, laving procured a copy of a proposition, written by Frith, against the doctrine of transubstantiation, immediately carried it to the chancellor with information where the heretic might be appi-ehended. Sir Thomas instantly ordered him to be seized and sent to the Tower, where he un- derwent several examinations by the lord-chancellor in person. In one instance, he was brought before an assembly of bishops, convened in St Paul's cathedral, before whom he openly defended his opinions, and subscribed them in the following sentence : — " Ego Frithius ita sen- tio, et quemadmodum sentio, ita dixi, scripsi, asserui, et atfirmavi." On this, he was pronounced incorrigible, and condemned to the fire. He suffered martyrdom at Smithfield, on the 4th of July, 1533, when only twenty-six years of age. An opportunity of making his escaj)e had occurred some time befor-e his condemnation, but he refused to avail himself of it, fearing that by so doing he should dishonour the gospel of Christ. Bale says that Frith was a " polished scholar, as well as master of the learned languages." And Fox assures us that Cran- raer was indebted for many of his arguments in his work on the sacra- ment, to Frith's writings. His works were printed in London, in one folio volume, in 1573. He seems, with Tyndale and Barnes, to have leaned to Presbyterianism, so far as lie had considei-ed the (|ucstion of church-government. G4 4 ECCLESIASTICAL SERIES. [Fourth DIED A, D. 1534. Elizabeth Barton, better known as 'The Holy Maid of Kent, was first a servant girl. She was born early in the 16th century, and resided at Aldington in Kent. In the year 1525, she was in the ser- vice of a Mr Cob or Knob, at Aldington, near Limme, formerly a port about four miles from Romney Marsh. The commencement of her de- lusion and imposture is traced to convulsion fits which occasionally seized her, and continued for a period of extraordinary length, and seem very much to have resembled swoons, commencing in strange agi- tations of her body, but the reality of which, even in their commence- ment, there is much reason to suspect. Reviving from one of these fits, in which it is reported she had lain for seven months, she inquired if her master's child was dead — for it was at the time lying desperately ill in its cradle, — and being answered in the negative — then said she, " it shall die anon." This, accordingly, having taken i)laee, she was imme- diately viewed with superstitious dread and astonishment, although every one expected the death of the child. The ignorant and credulous multitude soon blazoned abroad the fame of this alleged prophecy, which being also patronized by the priest of the parish, soon spread through the neighbourhood in all directions. It was a hapjiy occur- rence, at that critical conjuncture, for supporting the interests of a falling church, and as such was eagerly seized by the ecclesiastics. The young woman was easily induced to turn her talents at imposture into this line. She enforced the obligation of the mass, confession, prayers to saints, with all the superstitions of the church, by her authority as one inspired. To give her admonitions and reproofs more weight, she related strange visions of things God had shov.'n her, professed to de- scribe what was passing in chapels or churches at a distance, and by various other delusions gained an extensive reputation as a prophetess It was not among the vulgar alone that her imposture succeeded. The archbishop of Canterbury, Dr Warham, and Dr Fisher, bishop of Rochester, with no less a person than Sir Thomas More, were induced to believe that there was something of inspiration and miracle attend- ing the case; and they appointed certain commissioners to inquire into it, ■whose report greatly contributed to the support and prevalence of the imposture. To seal the sanctity, and to secure the credit of this miracle to the service of the Romish church, Elizabeth Barton was now conse- crated a nun, and a day fixed for her public entry into a chapel at Courtop- street or Court-of-strect, dedicated to the virgin. This ceremony, accord- ingly took place in the presence of a vast concourse of attendants of all orders. Being in the chapel, she fell into one of her fits immediately before the image, and uttered some speeches in rhythm tending to re- commend the worship and service of the virgin Mary ; and at the same time she said it was the will of our Lady that she (Elizabeth) should be put into some nunnery. This was accordingly complied with, and the archbishop of Canterbury ordered her to be received into Saint Sepulchres at Canterbury. Here this poor infatuated young Moman Pekiou.] ELIZABETH BAHTON. 645 became increasingly the dupe and the tool of superstition. She continued, as it Wiis said, to work niiiwles, and receive divine visions, for about eight or nine years, wlien an opportunity occurred of turning hei ini[)ostures to political purposes. Tiie (picstion of King Henry the Eighth's divorce from Queen Catharine was now sharply controverted on both sides, and was violently opposed by the ecclesiastics. They accordingly called in the services of Elizabeth Barton, instructed her to denounce the king's intentions and the ecclesiastical innovations he had made. Siic went even so far as to declare that he would not be a king a month longer if he divorced Catharine, that he would not enjoy the favour of the Almighty, and that he would die the death of a villain. The monks disseminated everywhere the sayings of the holy maid, and one During, a friar, published a book of the revelations and prophecies of Elizabeth. Her sayings concerning the divorce were conveyed es- pecially to the queen, whom they tended to confirm in her purpose of resisting to the utmost the king's will. But Henry VHI. was not a monarch to be overawed and ruled in his purposes by such machina- tions. He accordingly ordered the maid of Kent to be arrested, and all her accomplices cited before the star cliaraber. There she openly confessed her imposture, and with the whole party, viz. Masters, the parson of the parish where she had lived, During, Bocking, licit, Risby, and Gold, suffered death at Paul's cross, April, 1534. Neither (lid the resentment of the king stop here. Fisher, bishop of Rochester, a man of ability and learning, Abel, Addison, Laurence, and some others were condemned lor misprision of treason, and sentenced to con- fiscation of goods and imprisonment, because they had not discovered certain treasonable speeches of Elizabeth. The better to undeceive the people and discover the wicked proceedings of the priests, many of Elizabeth's impostures were exposed, and the scandalous prostitution of her manners laid open to public view. It was found that a door to her dormitory, which was said to have been miraculously opened, in order to give her free access to the chapel, for the sake of secret con- verse with heaven, had been contrived by Bocking and Masters, for less honourable purposes. Fisher, the bishop of Rochester, who had been cast into prison for his concealment of Elizabeth's treasons, and who had suffered many hardships there, was honoured by the pope with the rank of a cardinal; but this only inflamed the king's resentment to a higher pitch, and Fisher was in consequence impeached, tried, condemned, and beheaded; and shortly after, Sir Thomas More, who had also been imprisoned for connivances at Elizabeth's treason, was brought to the same violent and ignoble end. Thus an ignorant and base girl was not only the origin of an extensive and disgusting imposture, but the occasion of bringing several of the most distinguished men of the day, and j)robably the queen herself to a disgraceful and miserable end. Never was there a more barefaced, and seldom a more baneful imposture than that of ' the Holy Maid of Kent.' 646 ECCLESIASTICAL SERIES. [Fourth BORN A. D. 1439 DIED A. D. 1335. John Fisher, bishop of Rochester, was born at Beverley in York- shire, in tlie year 1459. He took his degrees at Cambridge, and was made proctor of that university in 1495. The same year he was elect- ed master of Michael house, since incorporated with Trinity college, and soon after entered into orders. He received his first ecclesiastical elevation at the hands of Margaret, countess of Richmond, mother of Henry VII., who appointed him her chaplain and confessor, and com- mitted herself entirely to his guidance and counsel. In 1501, he was chosen chancellor of Cambridge university, and in 1502, was appointed the lady Margaret's first professor of divinity. In 1504, he was raised to the see of Rochester upon the recommenda- tion of Bishop Fox. Upon Luther's appearance in opposition to po- pery, Fisher, ever a zealous champion for the church of Rome, was one of the first to enter the lists against him. He also did not hesitate to condemn in public the stateliness and pride with which the then all- powerful Wolsey bore himself, yet he continued to enjoy the king's fa- vour until the business of the divorce in 1527, when his adherence to Catharine's cause and the pope's supremacy brought him into no small trouble, and ultimately proved the cause of his ruin. He also warmly opposed the first motion in parliament for the suppression of the lesser monasteries, and made himself particularly obnoxious to Henry by the warm opposition which he gave in convocation to the proposal for conferring upon the king of England the title of supreme head of the church. The afiair of Elizabeth Barton was eagerly seized by his ene- mies as a pretext against him ; but his determined refusal to take the oath of allegiance to Henry and his heirs, after his marriage with Anne Boleyn and the repudiation of Catharine, was made the capital charge against him. For this offence he was committed to the Tower in April, 1534, attainted in November, and deprived of his bishopric in the month of January following. The unseasonable honour paid him by Pope Paul III., in creating him cardinal priest of St Vitalis, in May, 1535, sealed his fate. Secre- tary Cromwell being sent to him by the king to sound him on the subject, after some conference, said, " My lord of Rochester, what would you say if the pope should send you a cardinal's hat, — would you accept of it?" To which interrogatory the bishop replied in terms expressive of his unworthiness of such a distinguished honour, and the little expectation he had of it, but at the same time frankly declaring that if such a thing were to happen, he would deem himself bound to ac- cept of the horiour wdth all gratitude, and would endeavour to use it for the best interests of the church. When this answer was reported to Henry, he exclaimed in his own brutal style, " Yea, is he yet so lusty ? Well, let the pope send him a hat when he will, mother of Godl he shall wear it on his shoulders then, for I will leave him never a head to set it on." Rich, the solicitor-general, was now employed to circumvent the poor old man, which he did by visiting him in prison, uud, after nmch affectation of friendship, drawing him into a discourse Pekioij.J WILLIAM ITNDALE. C47 about the supremacy. Some expressions which the bishop in his wanntii let drop upon this point woro. eagerly noted by iiis treacherous visitant, and made tiio retic. Wo shall state the subsequent proceedings in the words of Miildleton : — "In 1556, a new commis- sion was given to 13isliop Bonner and Bishop Tliirlby, for the degrada- tion of the archbishop. When they went to Oxford, the archbishop was brought before them, and after they had read their commission from the pope, Bonner, in a scurrilous oration, insulted over him after a most unchristian manner; for which he was after rebuked by Bishop Thirlby, who had been Cranmer's particular friend, and shed many tears upon the occasion. When Bonner had finished his invective against him, they proceeded to degrade him ; and that they might make him as ridiculous as they could, the episcopal habit which they put on him was made of canvass and old clouts. Then the archbishop, pulling out of his sleeve a written appeal, delivered it to them, saying, that he was not sorry to be cut off, even with all this pageantry, from any relation to the church of Rome, — that the pope had no authority over him, and that he appealed to the next general council. When they had degraded him, they put on him an old threadbare beadle's gown, and a townsman's cap, and in that garb delivered him over to the secular power." Thus far Cranmer had nobly sustained the fiery trial of persecution, but his fortitude at last gave way, and in a fit of despondency he ex- pressed a wish to have a conference with the legate. Again the firm- ness of the martyr returned, and, besides expressing regret for the weakness which he had exhibited, he wrote a long letter to the queen in defence of the Protestant doctrines. Gardiner, who knew the man he had to deal with, informed hira that he must prepare for speedv execution, but, at the same time, hinted that it was not yet too late to excite the queen's clemency by a distinct and formal recantation of his most obnoxious heresies. The temptation succeeded, and six separate instruments of the most abject recantation were severally signed by him, in the vain hope of obtaining mercy. Burnet says, for six weeks he openly condemned the " errors of Luther and Zuinglius, acknow- ledged the pope's supremacy, the seven sacraments, the corporal pre- sence in the eucharist, purgatory, prayer for departed souls, the invo- cation of saints, to which was added his being sorry lor his former errors ; and concluded, exhorting all that had been deceived by his ex- ample or doctrines to return to the unity of the church ; and protest- ing that he had signed his recantation willingly, only for the discharge of his conscience." But his doom was sealed. The queen was fully resolved that, catholic or protestant, he should burn ; and the 21st of March was the day fixed for his execution. To the last moment he clung to the hope of pardon ; nor was it until he was actually led forth to execution, that hope finally forsook him. A Dr Cole was appointed to preach a sermon in the church of St Mary on the occasion, and the arch- bishop was placed opposite to him on a low platform. When Cole had finished his harangue, the purport of which was to proclaim the return of the arch-heretic to the bosom of the mother-church, but also to 8ho>« I. i p GG6 ECCLESIASTICAL SERIES. [Fourth that it was expedient Cranmer should suffer, notwithstanding his recan- tation, the archbishop was called upon to declare his faith ; where- upon, to the astonishment of all, he solemnly retracted all his recanta- tions, and ended by denouncing the pope as Christ's enemy and anti- christ. " Upon which," says Middleton, " they pulled him off the stage with the utmost fury, and hurried him to the place of his martyrdom, over against Baliol college : where he put off his clothes M'ith haste, and, standing in his shirt and without his shoes, was fastened with a chain to the stake. Some pressing him to agree to his former recanta- tion, he answered, showing his hand, ' This is the hand that wrote, and therefore it shall first suffer punishment.' Fire being applied to him, he stretched out his right hand into the flame, and held it there unmoved, except that once he wiped his face with it, till it was consum- ed, crjdng with a loud voice, ' Tlais hand hath offended 1' and often re- peating, ' This unworthy right hand I' At last, the fire getting up, he soon expired, never stirring or crying out all the while, only keeping his eyes fixed to heaven, and repeating more than once, ' Lord Jesus, re- ceive my spirit I ' he died in the sixty-seventh year of his age." The character of Cranmer has been the subject of keen controversy. Mr Hallam says, " if we weigh the character of this prelate in an equal balance, he will appear far, indeed, removed from the turpitude imputed to him by his enemies, yet not entitled to any extraordinary veneration." Others have not hesitated to enrol him in the very high- est rank of English patriots and Christian martyrs. The truth, as ivsual in such cases, may perhaps lie between these extremes. Cran- mer was a conscientious, but feeble, character ; he saw and loved the truth, but wanted firmness to pursue it amidst the difficulties which the complexion of the times threw in his way. His cruel death has alone pre- served his memory from reproach. Had Mary spared his life, he would never, it is most probable, have retracted the steps by which he for- sook the profession of the reformed faith, until the re-ascendency of protestant principles, under her successor, had rendered it impossible for any one, situated as he was, to resume his profession of attachment to the reformed doctrines, without incurring universal suspicion and the contempt of posterity. His life has been written with much elegancp by Gilpin, and voluminously by the Rev. J. H. Todd. BORN A. D. 1483. DIED A. D. 1555. Stephen Gardiner was the natural son of Lionel Woodviile, bishop of Salisbury, brother to the Lady Elizabeth Woodville, who, while the widow of Sir John Grey, captivated the affections of Edward IV. and became his queen. Gardiner was born in 1483, at St Ed- mund's Bury, Suffolk. He received his education at Trinity hall, Cambridge, where he distinguished himself by his progress in the study of the canon and civil law, the classics, and theology. In 1520, he succeeded to the headship of the society to which he belonged, but soon after left the university and attached himself to the Howard fam- ily. When a favourable opportunity offered of ingratiating himself I'KRiou.] BISHOP GARDIJv'EK. GG7 with Wolsey, who was fiist risinj^ into power, he left the Howards, and obtained the patronage of the favourite. In the service of this prelate he obtained his high opinion and confidence, by his activity as an agent, and his ability as a secretary. The patronage of his initster in- troduced him to the favour of the court. In 1327, his talents and ad- ilress had made such an impression on Wolsey and those in power, that he was intrusted with the negotiation then going on at tlie papal court, respecting the king's divorce from Catharine of Arragon. Al- though he was unsuccessful in his mission, his exertions were not tlie less appreciated, and he was rewarded with the archdeaconries of Nor- wich and Leicester in succession, and the appointment of secretary of state. His devotion to the king now got the better of his allegiance, as churchman, to the pope, and he not only did every thing in his power to facilitate Henry's designs with respect to the queen, but, on the king's abjuring the supremacy of the pope, and declaring himself supreme head of the church, he warmly supported him, and was created bishop of Winchester. The first proof of his acquiescence in, and approbation of, this measure was a treatise written by him in its defence, entitled, ' De vera obedientia.' The bishop continued to enjoy the full sun- shine of court favour, till the capricious sovereign, taking a disgust at Queen Catherine Parr, consulted with him on the easiest metliod of getting rid of her, and acquiesced in a plan, the leading feature of which was the exhibition of articles against her on a charge of heresy. The charge had proceeded so far that officers were already summoned for the purpose of arresting her, when the queen, in a personal inter- view with her husband, had sufficient address to turn tiie tables on the bishop, to re-establish herself in the king's favour, and to plunge the bishop, whom she suspected of being her principal adversary, into a state of disgrace from which he never extricated himself during the reign of Henry. On the accession of Edward VI. Bishop Gardiner was placed in more unfavourable circumstances still. He had been so strenuous an opposer of the doctrines of the reformed church, and of their establishment as the national religion, that the prevailing party viewed him with great suspicion, and visited him with marks of their high displeasure. He was, at their instigation, committed to the Tower by the young king, and deprived of his diocese. Mary's ac- cession again changed the scene, and brought Gardiner once more forth into liberty and power. He was received into royal favour, re- stored to his see, and even elevated to the office of chancellor of Eng- land, and first minister of state. He had learned but little in the school of adversity, and the persecution he had undergone, on account of his religious tenets, had not taught him to respect the conscience of another. On the other hand, his own sufferings appear to have hardened his heart, and produced a bitter spirit of bigotry and cruelty. He soon distinguished himself as the principal instru- ment in the hands of the infatuated queen ; and, during this reign, took the lead in all the murderous executions which stigmatized it, often acting with such a compound of caprice and cruelty as excites the utmost abhorrence and contempt. The history of the martyrs pre- sents Gardiner in a most disgusting point of view, as discovering fiend- like craft and cruelty. In his private character, he appears to better advantage, as he was learned himself, and a great encourager of learn- G68 ECCLESIASTICAL SERIES. [Fourth intr in others. The brightest trait in his character was gratitude, u hich he possessed in an unusual degree ; this he manifested towards Wolsey, to whom he was as much devoted in his decline as in the zenith of his prosperity ; and, notwithstanding the coolness and injus- tice he experienced from King Henry, towards the close of that prince's reign, he never was known to speak of him, but in terms of affectionate respect. He was often heard to exclaim, in the latter part of his life, ' Erravi cum Petro sed non flevi cum Petro 1 ' He died November 12th, 1555. A treatise by him, entitled, ' Necessary Doc- trine of a Christian Man,' printed in 1543, is said to be a joint work by him and Cranmer. 1$isJ)op Cunstall. BORN CIRC. A. D. 1474. DIED A. D. 1559. This prelate, who acts a distinguished part in the annals of the English hierarchy, is generally supposed to have been the illegitimate son of Sir Richard Tunstall of Thurland castle in Lancashire. Sur- tees, in his ' History of Durham,' seems inclined to think that he was the son of Thomas Tunstall, the brother and heir of Sir Richard, and consequently the brother of Sir Brian Tunstall who fell at Floddon. Rumour affixes a stigma to his birth ; he is said to have been the offspring of an illegitimate amour with a lady of the Conyers family.' He was admitted a student of Baliol college in 1491, but soon after- wards proceeded to Padua where he took the degree of doctor of laws. Godwin represents him as having attained high reputation as a scholar whilst studying abroad. On his return to his native country in 1508, he was presented to the rectory of Stanhope in the county of Durham; and in 1514, Archbishop Warham constituted him vicar-general or chancellor of the see of Canterbury, and recommended him to the notice of his sovereign, Henry VIH. Preferments now flowed rapidly upon him; and in 1516, he was appointed master of the rolls, — an office then chiefly supplied by churchmen, and for which he was eminently qualified by his early legal studies. In the same year he was joined with Sir Thomas More in an embassy to Charles V. then at Brussels, lie there lodged under the same roof with the celebrated Erasmus, whose friendship he afterwards enjoyed throughout life. That most ilistinguished scholar has borne decided testimony to Tunstall's learning and varied acquirements, describing him as a man who excelled all his contemporaries in a critical acquaintance with the learned languages, and who to extensive scholarship united the more solid qualifications ol an acute perception and sound judgment. It would appear that he acquitted himself in his embassy to the satisfaction of his royal master, as immediately on his return to London, he was again despatched with a similar commission to the diet of the empire at Worms. These services were rewarded with a succession of clerical appointments. In 1522, he was promoted to the bishopric of London ; and in 1523, made keeper of the privy seal. This has been called in question with considemble success. See Hutchinson's Dur- Liiin, vol. i. p. 412. Period.] BISHOP TUNSTALL. 669 In 1525, Bishop Tunstall accompanied Sir Richard Wins^field into Spain to solicit the reh^ase of Francis, afterwards khv^ of Trance, wlio had been talien prisoner in tlie battle of Pavia; and in 1527, we find him attending Cardinal Wolsey in his pompous emba>isy to France. Tiie riclier see of Durham rewarded tliese fresh services in 152'J. The associate of Wolsey cduld hardly be expected to look with a favourable eye upon the early efforts of the reformers ; accordingly we find him adopting measures for the suppression of Tyndale's edition of the New Testament, and for pn^venting the dissemination of the new doctrines ; yet it is but fair to add, that in all tliese measures Tunstall exhibited a spirit very different from that which actuated many of his contemporaries. He was willing to burn Tyndale's boolcs, but he was always an advocate for the milder methods of reclaiming heretics them- selves ; and it is recorded to the praise of his humanity, that during the heat of the Marian persecution not a single victim suffered in the diocese of Durham. Tunstall's character lies exposed to the charge of weakness and irre- solution. When Henry VIII., in defiance of the pope's authority, assumed the title of supreme head of the English church, Tunstall at first remonstrated, then hesitated, and finally publicly defended the king's right to the supremacy from the pulpit. In 1537, Tunstall was appointed by the king to confer with the divines sent from the protes- tant princes of Germany to press a further reformation ; and in 1541, he appears in conjunction with Heath, bishop of Rochester, as the editor of a revised version of the Scriptures. The confidence which his royal master reposed in him did not, however, save the see of Dur- ham from the operations of Henry's sweeping measures of ecclesiastical reform. By the act 27" Henry VIII., the ancient honours and pecu- liar privileges which former monarchs, during a period of six centuries, had successively conferred on that see, were swept away at a blow ; but the bishop wisely bowed to the storm, and continued in favour at court. On the accession of Edward VI. Tunstall opposed, but with becoming moderation, the measures of the protestant party, and was allowed to remain in the undisturbed enjoyment of his see. But in 1551 he was suddenly committed to the Tower on a charge of misprision of treason. Burnet attributes this measure to the cupidity of the profligate Dudley, duke of Northumberland, who wished to obtain the temporalities of the bishop's rich see and be made count-palatine of Durham. The attain- der passed against him in the house of lords, although Cranmer spoke warmly and freely in his defence ; but the commons, dissatisfied with the evidence adduced, threw out the bill. The duke had then recourse to a commission directed to the chief justice of the king's bench, and six others. This scheme succeeded better than the plan of attainder. The commissioners, who were all creatures of the duke, pronounced the bishop guilty of misprision of treason, and passed sentence of depriva- tion against him on the 14th of August, 1552. Tunstall was imme- diately committed to the Tower ; and in the month of May following, Northumberland obtained letters patent appointing him steward of the revenues of Durham. The accession of Mary changed the complexion of the bishop's for- tunes, and restored him to his bishooric. But, though joined wit!) 670 ECCLESIASTICAL SERIES. fFoirRTH Bonner and Gardiner in the commission for the deprivation of the married bishops, he was of much too mild a temper to go heartily along with these bloody-minded bigots in their work of intolerance. In fact he appears to have confined himself within his diocese during the whole of that bloody reign ; and to have put forth his powers chiefly for the purpose of screening the victims of persecution. Fox tells us, that when one Russell, a preacher, was brought before Tunstall on a charge of heresy, and his chancellor would have examined him more particularly, the bishop prevented him, remarking : " hitherto we have had a good report among our neighbours ; I pray you, bring not this man's blood upon my head." It is also a proof of Tunstall's easy dispo- sition at least, that when his nephew, the celebrated Bernard Gilpin, an avowed protestant, came home from his travels on the continent, he not only received the young man with great tenderness, but even bestowed on him the archdeaconry of Durham. One might feel disposed to attribute such leniency to an entire indifference to religion on the part of Tunstall ; but Gilpin, whose testimony will not be called in question, believed his uncle to be a conscientious man, and has recorded some pleasing instances of the dominion which religious feelings possessed over his whole character.^ It is also matter of history that Elizabeth on her accession, had nominated him first in a list of prelates to officiate at the consecration of several new bishops ; but he refused to take the oath of supremacy to a protestant princess, and quietly submitted to the sentence of deprivation which followed. The remainder of his days were spent under the roof of Archbishop Parker. He died on the 18th of November, 1559, aged 85, and was buried in the chancel of Lambeth "^hurch. ^of^n Bale* BORN A. D. 1495 DIED A. D. 1563. John Bale was born at Cove, near Dunwich, in Suffolk, Novem- ber 21, 1495. He received his early instructions at the monastery of the Carmelites, in Norwich, and from thence was sent to Jesus college, Cambridge. He was educated in the bosom of the Romish church, and initiated into all its superstitions, and we are informed was a zealous papist before the light of protestantism broke in upon his mind The exact period at which he received that light by which he was led to detect the errors of popery, and to relinquish the communion of that church, does not clearly appear, but he attributes to " the illustrious, the Lord Wentworth, that he was stirred up to discover the glory ol the Son of God, and his own deformity." Soon after his renunciation of the tenets of the Romish church, he married a pious lady, who was a great assistance to him in his religious career. He manifested great decision of character, and became a zealous preacher of that gospel which he had felt to be the power of God to his own salvation. No sooner did he discover the errors of popery and the vices of the clergy, than he exposed them with great freedom and boldness. The • See Gilpin's Life 'if Gilpin. Fhuiou.] JOHN BALE. 671 respiitnient of the priesthood was roused to a high degree, because on one oceasion, at Doncaster, he oix-iily declared against the invocation of saints. For this offence lie was dragged from the pulpit to the con- sistory of York, to appear bc^fore Archbishop Lee, when he was cast into prison. Stokesly, bishop of London, subsequently treated him with ecpial severity, and doubtless would have proceeded to extremities but for tile seasonable and powerful interference of Lord Cromwell, who was at that time a favourite with King Henry VIIL After the decease of this eminent nobleman, he withdrew from the storm of persecution which threatened the land, and retired into Germany. There he found, in the society of Martin Luther, and his distinguished coadju- tors, a hospitable and safe retreat for about eight years, and pursued his studies with avidity, and employed his pen in writing against the superstitions of popery, and defending the principles of the reforma- tion. After the death of King Henry, when the pious Edward VL had ascended the British throne, Bale was invited home, and presented to the benefice of Bishopstoke, in Hampshire. Here he lived in re- tirement, and was deeply engaged in various publications which the peculiar state of the times called for. So entirely was he secluded from the busy world, that when he waited on his majesty at Southamp- ton, the king was greatly surprised and delighted to see him, having heard that he was dead. He then appointed him to the see of Ossory, in Ireland, which was then vacant. Bale, at first, declined the proffer- ed elevation, and pleaded his age, ill health, and poverty ; but the king not admitting his excuses, he at length consented, and was instal- led without any expense to himselfj according to the new form, as he positively refused being consecrated according to the old popish fashion. The influence and facilities for study which his new situation afforded him were sedulously employed in furthering the object which was dearest to his heart. He preached the gospel, used every means in his power to bring the people to renounce popery, and to embrace Christ Jesus, and employed his purse to enrich his library with such books and manuscripts as would enable him to employ his pen with the greater effect for the cause of God, of truth, and of the Reformation. Upon the accession of Queen Mary, popery returned with all its horrors to scourge the land. Bale was again exposed to the bitter resentment of his enemies. He had laboured with assiduity to reform his diocese, and to correct the abominable vices of the priests, to abolish the mass, and to establish the new Book of Common Prayer, but his zealous and well-meant efforts exasperated his enemies, who were excited by their rage and malice to seek his life. Five of his domestics were murdered near his house, and but for the seasonable arrival of the governor ol Kilkenny with a troop of soldiers, he must have shared the same fate. Having heard that the Romish priests had seized his books and move- ables, and were then conspired to take away his life, his only alterna- tive was to seek security in flight. He first went to Dublin, where he concealed himself till an opportunity offered which appeared favourable for his escape to Scotland. He took his passage in a trading vessel bound for that country, but was taken prisoner by the captain of a Dutch man-of-war, who robbed him of all his property. This ship was driven by distress of weather into St Ives, in Cornwall, where G72 ECCLESIASTICAL SERIES. [Fourth Bale was taken up on suspicion of treason. The accusation was brought against him by one Walter, an Irishman, the pilot of the Dutch ship. The captain and purser, however, fearing lest they should be deprived of the property they had taken from liim, deposed in his favour, and he was honourably acquited. The fugitive was soon brought into circumstances of still more imminent peril. In a few days the ship arrived in Dover roads, where one Martin persuaded the cap- tain and his crew that Bale had been the principal instrument of pulling down the mass in England, and in keeping Dr Gardiner so long in the Tower, and that he had poisoned the king. With this information, the captain and purser went ashore, carrying along with them his episcopal seal and several letters from Melancthon and other celebrated reformers, with the council's letter of his appointment to the bishopric of Ossory. It was proposed to send Bale to London, or to send two persons to the privy council with information, but, upon his strong re- monstrances to the captain, and offering to pay fifty pounds for his ransom, on his arrival in Holland, he was carried into Zealand, and lodged in the house of one of the owners of the ship, by whom he was treated with great kindness. He had only six days allowed him to raise the money agreed on for his ransom, and was not permitted to go abroad to find his friends. While in this state of perplexity and distress, he was sometimes threatened to be thrown into the common gaol, sometimes to be brought before the magistrates, or the clergy, at other times, to be sent to London, or to be delivered to the queen's ambassador at Brussels. At length his kind host interposed, and ob- tained his discharge on paying thirty pounds for his ransom. Dr Bale, having obtained his liberty, retired to Frankfort, where the English exiles were favoured by the magistrates with the use of one of the churches. The exiles having found a quiet home in a foreign land, first settled their new congregation and then entered into a correspon- dence with their brethren who had found refuge in other places. Their harmony was interrupted by the arrival of Dr Cox, when Dr Bale retired to Basil, in Switzerland, where he remained until the death of Queen Mary. On the accession of Queen Elizabeth, he re- turned to England, but not to his bishopric in Ireland. The queen had, during her minority, and while exercised with troubles under her sister Mary, showed him the highest respect, but it was very manifest afterwards, that she had withdrawn her afi'ections from him. Probably he had imbibed too deeply the principles of the reformed churches to be acceptable to so bigotted an episcopalian as Elizabeth. The Doc- tor contented himself with a prebend in the church of Canterbury, the rest of his days, and refused to accept of his bishopric. Many of the pious reformers, while living among foreign protcstants, examined more minutely the grand principles of the Reformation ; on those principles they acted while in a foreign land ; nor could they forget them on their return to their native country. They laboured to obtain a more perfect reformation of the English church. Dr Bale was among their number, and this accounts for his having refused preferment, as he was a zealous opposer of the Romish superstitions, and was against the English rites and ceremonies. It was a settled principle with hin), that the government of the church by bishops did not commence till the beginning of the seventeenth century, and consequently he wa< Peuiod.1 Mn.ES COVERDALE. 673 opposed to the divino institution of bishops. When summoned to as- sist in tJie consecration of Arciibishop Parker, he refused to attend, doubtless because he entertained these principles. He died at Canter- bury, November, 1563, aged sixty-eight years, and his remains were interred in tiie cathederal at tiiat place. The character of Dr Bale has been drawn by his friends and his enemies ; the representation of the latter being in perfect contrast with that of the former. Hi-s writings against tlie papacy were both voluminous and pungent, and they stung his enemies to madness : but, in reading the t(!stimony of such men in such times, it becomes us to boar in mind that they were wont to call evil good and good evil, and therefore the censure of his enemies may be reckoned as his highest commendation. Dr Bale wrote much, but his most celebrated work consisted of the ' Lives of the most Eminent Writers.' It came out at three different times. His " Summarium illustrium majoris Brytanniae Scriptorum " was pub- lished at Wesel, 1549. This was addressed to King Edward, and con- tained only ' five centuries ' of writers. Afterwards, he added four more, and made several corrections and additions. The book, thus enlarged, was entitled, " Scriptorum illustrium majoris Brytanniae, quam nunc Angliam et Scotiam vocant, Catalogus ; a Japheto per 3618 annos, usque ad annum hunc Domini 1557, &c." It was completed and printed at Basil, while the author was in a state of exile. The writers whose lives are contained in this celebrated work, are those of Great Britain, including England and Scotland. The work commen- ces from Japhet, one of the sons of Noah, and is carried down through a series of 3618 years, to the year of our Lord 1557. HORN A. D. 1487. DIED A. D. 1567. Miles Coverdale, one of the most important names which occur in the history of biblical literature, was bisliop of Exeter in the reign oi Edward the Sixth. He was born in Yorkshire, 1487. For this we have the authority of his epitaph. He received his education at Cam- bridge, in a house of Augustine friars, of which Dr Barnes, afterwards one of the protestant martyrs, was then prior. Godwin tells us that he received the degree of D.D. from the university of Tubingen, but has neglected to mention the date of this transaction. It was not till many years after this, that Cambridge conferred upon him the same honour. Early impressions in favour of the religion in whicl 'le had been educated, induced him to become an Augustine monk. In 1514 he entered into holy orders, and was ordained at Norwich ; but he af- terwards renounced popery, and Bale tells us that he and Dr Barnes, his former superior, were amongst the very first who preached the doc- trines of the Reformation. It was about 1530 that the reformed reli- gion began to make progress at Cambridge. Men of learning, both from colleges and monasteries, met together for friendly conference on those points which had been discussed by the reformers in various parts of Europe. Their usual place of assembling was called the ' White House,' and being close to King's, Queen's, and St John's colleges, was I. 4 y G74 ECCLESIASTICAL SERIES. [Fourth easily accessible. Here Miles Coverdale imbibed the principles of the Reformation, and was certainly one of the earliest converts to them. Soon after this, he appears to have been abroad assistinpj Tyndale in his translation of the Bible ; and in 1535 he published his own, dedi- cating it to King Henry VHI. It was printed in one volume folio. From the appearance of the types, it has been conjectured that it was printed by Christopher Froschovver, at Zurich. As his revision of the press was most careful and accurate, he must have resided in the place — wherever it was — at which his Bible was printed. This translation was called special, because it differed from the former translations ; as may be seen by a comparison of it with Tyndale's. The Psalms are those now used in the Book of Common Prayer. Coverdale, then, i& entitled to the honour of having been the first who had translated the whole Bible into English, and of bringing it out under the express sanction of royal authority. No sooner had Coverdale finished this great work, than he com- menced another. In 1538, a quarto Latin (Vulgate) Testament ap- peared, with Coverdale's English, and a dedication by him. In this dedication is found the following passage : — " He does not doubt but such ignorant bodies as, having cure of souls, are very unlearned in the Latin tongue, shall, through this small labour, be occasioned to attain unto true knowledge, or at least be constrained to say well of the thing which they have heretofore blasphemed." At the close of 1538, Coverdale again visited the continent to super- intend a new edition of the Bible. It appears that, on account of the superior skill of the workmen at Paris, as well as the greater cheapness and better quality of the paper, King Henry requested Francis I. to allow Grafton, the celebrated printer, to send forth an edition of the English Bible. To this the French monarch acceded ; and the inde- fatigable Coverdale was despatched to sujierintend the press. But just as the work was completed, the Inquisition interfered, and demanded that the press should be stopped and the whole impression burnt. They dated their order, Dec. 17, 1538. It was forthwith executed, and 2,500 copies instantly committed to the flames. This shows at once the jealousy with which the Romanists regarded the translation of the Scriptures into the vernacular tongues, as well as the irresistible power which they wielded. The will of monarchs was obliged to yield to theirs. That Providence, however, which can turn even the vices of men to account, not only defeated the machinations of the in- quisitors, but rendered them subservient to the most important and beneficial results. It appears that one of the officers of the Inquisition, whose avarice got the better of his bigotry, rescued a few chests of the heretical volumes from the flames, and sold them to a haberdasher as waste paper. The English proprietors ventured to retui'n to Paris, after the alarm had somewhat subsided, and succeeded not only in obtaining some of the copies of the condemned impression, but — what was far more important — in bringing the presses, types, and printers, to England. Here they instantly set to work, and ' Cranmer's,' or the ' Great Bible,' as it was called, issued, in 1539, from the work-shop of Grafton and Whitchurch. In this edition, Coverdale carefully compared the trans- lation with the original ; but notwithstanding all his care, various sus- picions were insinuated, not only of its inaccuracy, but even of the heterodoxy of some portions. Aj^ainst this gross charge, Coverdule took an opportunity of vindicating iiinisclf. wiicn lie preached at Paul's cross, — a ta^k of wliicli hi' ac(|uittod himself witii equal candour and courage. He said, " that Ik.- iiiniself now saw some faults, which, if he might review the book once again, as he had twice before, he had no doubt he should amend ; but for any heresy, he was sure that there was none maintained in iiis translation." In these arduous and most important labours, equally honourable to himself and beneficial to his country, Coverdale was not permitted to work — as too many have been — uncheered by the smiles of patronage. Thomas Lord Cromwell was a liberal patron of his. He was also almoner to Catharine Parr — the last of King Henry's queens — who was a decided friend of the Reformation. In virtue of this office, he officiat- ed at her funeral, at Sudely castle in Gloucestershire, the residence of her last husband, Thomas Lord Seymour ; on which occasion, by the bye, our reformer took an opportunity not only of giving utterance to the great doctrines of the Reformation, but of explaining away, in quite a protestant style, the jjopish trumpery with which, as usual, the fune- ral was celebrated. " The ofFeringe," he said, " which was there don, was not don any tliinge to profytt the deade, but for the poor onlye ; and also the lights wliich were caried, &c. were for the honour of the person, and for no other entente nor purpose." &c. In 1547, he preached at St Paul's against some Anabaptists, whom, with greater effect than is found generally to accompany the efforts of the contro- versialist, he is said to have reclaimed. In 1351 he was raised to the see of Exeter, and his elevation was accompanied with the most flatter- ing testimonials of the esteem in which King Edward held him. It was expressly stated, that " he was promoted on account of his extra- ordinary knowledge in divinity, and his unblemished character." The cu'cumstances which, it is conjectured, were partly the cause of his ele- vation, are very curious, and deserve to be recorded. It appears that Lord Russel was sent, in 1549, to suppress the rebellion m the west, and Coverdale was appointed to accompany him. It is said that the reformer's preaching was the most effectual means of quieting the minds of the people. This probably suggested the propriety of choos- ing such a man for such a quarter ; and upon the death of the then bishop — a bigoted catholic, and in every respect the opposite of Cover- dale — he was chosen his successor. At his first appointment, his po- verty would not permit him to pay the first-fruits ; from which, there- fore, the king, at the request of Cranmer, exempted him. In his diocese, he, of course, favoured the spread of the reformed re- ligion. In the administration of all its affairs, however, he displayed the strictest equity. So anxious was he that the law, both civil and eccle- siastical — in which he did not pretend to be very profoundly skilled — should be justly executed, that he requested the university of Oxford to recommend a suitable chancellor for his diocese. They recommend- ed Dr Robert Weston, afterwards the Irish lord-chancellor, whom Coverdale treated with the greatest liberality. All his noble qualities, however, — his integrity, his humility, his ge- nerosity, his hospitality, his unwearied efforts to do good, his diligent discharge of his functions, — could not protect him from the slanders of tJie enemies of the Reformation. So long as Edward VI. lived, they G76 ECCLESIASTICiVL SERIES. [Fourth little troubled him, — he could defy their calumnies. But no sooner did Mary accede to the throne, than he was ejected from his bishopric and cast into prison. After two years' confinement, he was released at the solicitation of the king of Denmark. This auspicious interposi- tion was brought about in a very remarkable manner. It appears that Dr Machaboeus, the chaplain of the king of Denmark, and Coverdale, had married sisters. On Coverdale's imprisonment, Dr M. informed his royal master of the perilous circumstances in which his relative was placed. It was not, however, until the king had written two or three times, that Mary yielded to his solicitation. Coverdale has sometimes been charged with having taken a part in an insurrection against the queen ; and this has been sometimes represented as the cause of his imprisonment. As the queen, however, did not urge this in her reply to his Danish majesty, we may conclude it to be utterly false. It seems to have been more likely owing to his non-payment of the tenths ; as the first-fruits had been already remitted by the royal per- mission. The plea which Coverdale set up when charged with this, was, that he had not enjoyed the bishopric long enough to meet their claims. No sooner was he set at liberty — which was on the hard con- dition of expatriating himself — than he repaired to the court of Den- mark. The monarch who had procured his pardon was anxious to detain him. But the conscientious reformer not being able to preach in Danish, preferred those places where his lips would not be sealed on the most important themes, and was contented to be a wanderer, and homeless, so that he might glorify his Master. He repaired, therefore, to Wesel, then to Bergzabern, and lastly to Geneva, where he joined many of the English exiles, and assisted in the translation of the ' Geneva Bible.' This translation had notes, which brought it into very general use, — so much so, that between the years 1560 and 1616, there were not less than thirty editions printed, in folio, 4to, and 8vo. When Elizabeth ascended the throne, Coverdale returned to his na- tive land, but with much altered views on the subjects of church disci- pline and the ceremonies, in which he pleaded for the severe simplicity of the Geneva school. At the consecration of Archbishop Parker, at which Coverdale assisted, he refused to wear any thing more than a long black cloth gown. Such conduct, in such times, of course, com- pletely blocked up the way to preferment. Many of his friends were, it is true, extremely anxious for his advancement, and none more so than Grindall. That amiable prelate was known to say on this sub- ject — " I cannot excuse us bishops ;" he even applied to the secretary/ of state, telling him that it was unjust " that father Coverdale, who was in Christ before us all, should now be without support." He then proceeded to recommend him to the bishopric of Llandaff, which was effected ; but the increasing infirmities of our reformer caused him to decline so important a charge. The bishop then collated him to the rectory of St Magnus, near old London bridge. Here, again, he had to complain that his abject poverty — of which he makes affecting men- tion in some of his letters — would not permit him to pay his first- fruits, wliich were again remitted. He exercised his ministry here no more than two years ; when he either resigned, or was compelled to abandon his charge. This was in 1566, only a little before his death. VVliile he did preach, he was, as may readily be supposed, the favour- Period.J bishop BONNER. G77 ite prea(;hor of the puritans. He died, as some say, in 1565, or as others, in 1567 ; the parish-register, however, proves that he was buried, Feb. 19, 1568, in the church of St Bartholomew, Exchange. Of the numerous tracts which Coverdahi put forth, most of which were in defence of tlie princij)les or doctrines of the lleformation, it is impossible to give a correct list. They are very rarely to be met with. By far the greater part of them are translations from the German. No manuscripts of Bishop Coverdale remain, except a short letter in the Ilarleian collection. MQijo^ Bonner* HORN CIRC. A, D. 1500. DIED A. D. 1369. The character of this ecclesiastic is written in letters of blood on tlie page of English history. " Nature seems to have designed him for an executioner," says Grainger, and the remark is not too severe. He was born of humble parentage at Hanley in Worcestershire. Finding a generous patron in his boyhood, he was sent to school, and afterwards entered of Broadgate hall, Oxford. He entered into orders about the year 1519, and shortly afterwards received an appointment from Car- dinal Wolsey, who continued to patronise him until his own sudden fall from power. The cardinal's death, however, did not block up Bonner's road to preferment, for soon after we find him in high favour both with Henry VIII. and his new minister Cromwell. He began his career as a courtier by favouring the Lutherans and promoting the king's divorce from Catharine of Spain. In 1532, he was sent to Rome to apologise to the holy father for Henry's non-compliance with his solemn citation. The next year he again appeared at Rome, to deliver his master's appeal from the decision of the pope to the first general council. Bonner seems to have been selected for these services on account of his bold and fearless character; and he betrayed so much eff'rontery and viru- lence on the occasion of his second appearance at Rome, that the holy father talked of punishing his audacity by throwing him into a cauldron of melted lead, on which he very wisely withdrew himself by secret flight from the papal dominions. In 1538, while discharging the duties of ambassador at the French court, he was nominated to the bishopric of Hereford ; but was translated before consecration to that of London. At the time of Henry's death, Bonner filled the situation of am- bassador at the court of Charles V. He had gone along with Henry in a variety of acts hostile to the Catholic religion, but he now changed his line of policy, and declined to renounce his allegiance to the pope, when called upon to do so by Edward's council. His obstinacy was punished by imprisonment in the Fleet prison, but having given in his submission, he was soon afterwards released from confinement. His remissness in the execution of the orders in court, particularly those relating to the use of the common prayer-book, drew upon him a severe reprimand from the privy-council. For subsequent acts of contempt, he was at last committed to the Marshalsea, and deprived of his bishopric. On the accession of Mary, he was restored to his see, and made presi- dent of the convocation in room of Cranmer. The same year, he visited G78 ECCLESIASTICAL SERIES. [Fourth his diocese and exerted himself with great zeal in rooting out all traces of the Reformation and in re-establishing the sacrament of the mass. Within three years thereafter, this merciless prelate had comniitted upwards of two hundred persons to the flames on account of their re- fusing to conform to the tenets and worship of the Roman church.' Among his more distinguished victims, was Anne Askew, John Rogers, Bishop Hooper, and John Bradford. On the death of Mary, Bonner affected to congratulate her successor, and for this purpose went to meet Elizabeth at Highgate, but that princess shrunk from the blood-stained priest, and declined to show him any mark of favour. On being required to take the oath of alle- giance and supremacy to Elizabeth, he was deprived a second time of his bishopric and committed to the Marshalsea, where he died after some years confinement, on the 5th of September, 1569. The Roman catholic historian, Dodd, has attempted to excuse Bonner's cruelties by weakly arguing, that " seeing he proceeded accord- ing to the statutes then in force, and by the directions of the legislative power, he stands in no need of apology on that score." As if Bonner himself had had no hand in re-enacting those persecuting statutes, and as if his putting them in force was not as much an act of free choice on his part as his declining to take the oath of allegiance to Elizabeth. Besides, Bonner repeatedly gave evidence of the cruelty and malignity of his disposition, by anticipating or aggravating the sentence of the law ; sometimes he would snatch the whip from the hands of the executioner, and apply it with his own hands to his unfortunate prisoners ; and on one occasion he first tore out the beard of a poor man, in a transport of wrath at his inflexible adherence to the reformed faith, and then held his hand to a candle till the sinews and veins burst. Mr John Harring- ton tells us, that when Bonner was shown a wooden print of himself in the first edition of Fox's ' Acts and Monuments,' wherein he is repre- sented scourging Thomas Henshawe with his own hands, the unabashed prelate only laughed aloud at the sketch, and exclaimed, " A vengeance on the fool I How could he get my ])icture drawn so accurately ?" BORN A. D. 1522. DIED A. D. 157 L John Jewel was born at Buden, in the parish of Barry-Narber, in the county of Devon, 24th May, 1522. His parents were highly respectable in their circumstances, and truly estimable in their disposi- tions and characters. The early years of our author were passed un- der the wise and careful superintendence of his parents, who cherished those talents in their son, the dawn of which was manifest in his youth, and assiduously watched the tender buds of genius and piety which were destined hereafter to shed so rich a fragrance. He was sent to school fir«t in Barnstaple, where his master became exceedingly at- tached to him, in consequence of the loveliness of his disposition, the quickness of his parts, and the diligence of his application to study. ' Collier's Eccles. Hisi. ii. p. 396. Pkriod.] bishop jewel. 679 Nor was the attachment of the scholar to his teacher less ardent, sin- cere, or permanent, but was ilisplayed in alter life by condesceii(linj» regard when he became a bishop, as well as by the reward of his esteemed instructions. At the age of thirteen he was removed to Ox- ford, and committed to the care of Mr Burrey of Merton college, a man but meanly learned, and strenuous for popery. Soon after his removal to Oxford, ho was taken notice of by Mr Parkhurst, who em- ployed him as his amanuensis, and was desirous not only of imparting to him all wholesome learning, but to season his mind with pure re- ligion. Mr Parkhurst received him under his own tuition, and be- stowed upon him the place which he had in his gift, and often took occasion in his presence to di'^pute with Mr Burrey about controverted points. Intending to collate the translations of Tyndale and Covenlale, he gave Burrey Tyndale's translation to read, while he overlooked Co- verdale's. During this collation Jewel often smiled, which Mr Park- imrst observing, and marvelling that one so young should mark the barbarisms in the vulgar translation, he exclaimed, " Surely Paul's cross will one day ring of this boy I" These words seemed prophetic of that noble sermon, which many years after he preached on that spot, by which he dealt so heavy a blow at the superstitions of the popish mass as all its advocates have never been able to counteract. He removed from Merton college to Corpus Christi, where he was placed on the senior logic form, and wherein he took his degree be- fore the senior. He excelled in his early years in poetry and elo- quence, for which his talents were greatly admired. Not long after he took his degree, he was unanimously chosen in preference to many masters and bachelors, his seniors, to read the Humanity lecture, in which he acquitted himself with such diligence and acceptance, that many came from other colleges to hear him, drawn by the report of his ability, and even by the beauties of his rhetoric, and the pungency and brilliance of his wit. His habits of study were intense, and even his recreations from study were studious, being spent either in instruct- ing his scholars, in disputing with others, or in ruminating over those subjects on which he had been reading. His conversation and deport- ment were highly exemplary, and in those years of life in which the passions are strongest, and the world has the most powerful influence to draw the heart and feet aside, even an enemy was obliged to tes- tify, — " I should love thee. Jewel, if thou wert not a Zuinglian ; in thy faith I hold thee a heretic, but in thy life thou art an angel I" Thus he grew in learning, religion and fame, during the reign of Henry the Eighth, towards the end of which he became master of arts. In the short reign of Edward the Sixth, his reputation and influence rose rapidly, and to the highest pitch. Jewel hearing of the fame of Peter Martyr, the new professor of divinity at Oxford, repaired to him for in- struction, copied out his lectures, and was his notary in the disputation in the divinity schools, with Chedsey, Tresham, Morgan antl others, about the real presence, and afterwards became intimate with him. While these days of peace and liberty continued, he read a lecture in the hall, and privately to his scholars. He preached also at Sunningwell. On the accession of Queen Mary, he was ordered to leave his college ; and his farewell address on this occasion breathed a spirit of deep-toned feeling and glowing eloquence. After taking leave of tiie university, 680 ECCLESIASTICAL SERIES. [Foukth he was in imminent danger of falling into the hands of the execrable Bonner. In his flight from Oxford, he went on foot in a snowy win- ter's night towards London, and would probably have perished from the inclemency of the weather, had he not been found by Bishop La- timer's servant, who discovered him on the ground, panting and labour- ing for life. Soon afterwards, he followed the example of many of his pious countrymen, and escaped beyond the sea. Previously to his departure for the continent, it appears he was by the craft of some of the popish prelates entrapped to sign a book, whereby he seemed to countenance some of the popish errors This subscription wounded his conscience, beclouded his character, and grieved his persecuted brethren, but did not mitigate the persecuting spirit of his enemies, nor promote his own safety. His biographers, while they faithfully record this blot on his reputation, deplore it, and our author himself^ immediately after his arrival at Frankfort, preached an excellent sermon ; at the close of which, with a flood of tears, he said, " It was my ab- ject, and cowardly mind, and faint heart, that made my weak heart to commit this wickedness ;" then with deep groans and sighs, he made humble supplication for pardon, first to Almighty God, whom he had offended, and afterwards to his church which he had scandalized. The large congregation was deeply afi^'ected, and after the sermon, embraced him as a brother. At Frankfort, he m.et with many eminent men, his countrymen, and being invited by several kind letters from Peter Martyr, he went to Argentine, where he met with Bishop Peynet, Archbishop Grindall, and many gentlemen who had left their native soil and all their estates, with friends and kindred, for the testimony of the gospel of Jesus Christ. When Peter Martyr was sent for by the senate of the Tigurines to succeed Rebian in the Hebrew lecture and exposition of holy scripture, he took Jewel with him, accompanied also with many other English exiles, who were supported by the lib- eral contribution of London Christians, until Bishop Gardiner, obtain- ing information of it, stopped the current of this Christian liberality, by imprisoning and impoverishing their benefactors. But the God whom they served was graciously pleased to raise up a friend for the exiles in Christopher, prince of Wirtenberg, who invited many of them to him, and afforded them bountiful supplies, as did also the Tigurine senators towards the rest. The great ornament of the reformed church, Calvin, Zuinglius, Melancthon, and others, manifested the tenderest sympathy towards their suffering English brethren, and afforded them constant encouragement and comfort by their letters. Jewel resided for a con- siderable time at the house of Peter Martyr, endeavouring, by every means in his power, to allay the contentions which arose about cere- monies and forms of religion among his countrymen in exile. The death of Queen Mary afforded Jewel an opportunity of return- ing to his native land, and very soon after his return he was sent for to a disputation at Westminster. His next important commission was to visit the Western circuit, in order to investigate the state of religion, and to preach the gospel. On his return from this visitation, he was consecrated bishop of Salisbury, which preferment he accepted with great reluctance, after repeating the apostle's words, " He that desireth a bishopric desireth a good work." The liberality of Bishop Jewel was remarkable, and his labour in study, preaching, and writing, almost Period.] AECHBISIIOP PAllIvER. C8 1 incredible. He was much occupied in disputing with the papists, both with his tongue and with his pen. A lasting nienilirial of his zeal and ability in controversy, remains to speak his fame to many generations, — ' His Defence of the Apology of the Church of England.' His ex- cessive labour hastened his death, which took, place in 1571, in thr 50th year of his age. He was occupied in his great work of preach- ing almost till the day of his departure. The last exercise in which he was engaged exemplified the deep concern he felt to be R)und faithful. Having, after his return from a conference in London, commenced a visitation throughout his diocese, in which, with more severity than he had ever exercised before, he reproved the vices both of the clergy and of the laity, and preached oftener, which greatly enfeebled his constitution, he M'as recommended by a gentleman to return home and rest his body for his healt'Ji's sake ; but he could not be persuaded to spare himself, using this remarkable expression — " It becometh a bishop to die preaching in the pulpit." He went on, therefore, on horseback to preach at Lacock in Wiltshire, and in a state of great exhaustion ascended the pulpit, and preached his last sermon from Gal. V. 16, ' Walk in the Spirit.' He went from the pulpit to his bed, and in a few days expired. His closing scene was worthy of his char- acter and of his life, and illustrated the reality and the strength of his faith. liORN A. D. 1504 DIED A. D. 1575. Matthew Parker, the second protestant archbishop of Canter- bury, was born in the parish of St Saviour's, Norwich, on the 6th ol August, 1504. In 1521, he was admitted of Corpus Christi college, Cambridge, of which house he was chosen scholar, or bible-clerk, six months after. In 1526, he was made sub-deacon. While at col- lege, he had for his contemporaries, Nicholas Bacon and Cecil, Brad- ford and Ridley. In 1527, he was ordained priest, and elected to a fellowship. His studies appear at this time to have been mainly di- rected towards the Scriptures and the writings of the early fathers ; but his scholarship was in such repute that Cardinal Wolsey invited him to join his new foundation at Oxford, — an invitation which he declined at the same time with his distinguished predecessor in the archbishop- ric, Cranraer. In 1533, the archbishop of Canterbury granted Parker a license to preach throughout his province, and the king gave him a patent for tho same throughout the kingdom. He now preached frequently before clie court, and at St Paul's cross, and other public places. His zeal for the promotion of religion and learning recommended him to the intimacy and friendship of such men as Bilney, Stafford, Arthur, Friar Barnet, Scroode, Fowke, and other leading scholars and reformers. For Bilney, in particular, he cherished so great veneration that he went down to Norwich to attend him at his martyrdom, and afterwards fearlessly vindicated the memory of his murdered friend against the impeachment of Sir Thomas Mere, who asserted that, when brought I. 4 k 682 ECCLESIASTICAL SERIES. [Fourth to the stake, Bilney had renounced his protestant principles, and ex- pressed his adherence to the Romish church. Queen Anne Boleyn appointed Parker Iier own chaplain, and, a short time before her death, committed her daughter Elizabeth to his especial charge, enjoining him never to withhold from the young princess his pious and prudent counsel, and charging her to bear in remembrance her benefactor, if ic should ever be in her power to I'eward his fidelity. In 1535, he proceeded B. D., and, in the same 3'^ear, was preferred by the queen to the deanery of the college of Stoke-Clare, in Suftblk. This place afforded him an agreeable retirement for the pursuit of his favourite studies. His friend, Dr Hadden, used to call it Parker's Tusculanum. It is not quite certain at what time Parker first imbibed the principles of the reformers, but soon after he began to preach in pul)lic we find articles exhibited against him by some of the more zealous papists. On the death of Queen Anne, Henry appointed him one of his chap- lains, and nominated him to a prebend of Ely. In 1544, he was pro- moted to the mastership of Corpus Christi college, Cambridge, on the special recommendation of the king. In this office he zealously applied himself to reform and correct abuses ; he also undertook the revisal of the statutes, which, with the countenance of his friend, Dr May, he reduced to nearly their present form. In 1547, he married Margaret, daughter of Robert Harlstone, of Mattis hall, in Norfolk, to whom he had been long attached. Mr Masters conjectures that it was about this time he drew up a short treatise, still preserved in the library of his college, ' De conjugio Sacerdotura.' On the occasion of Kett's re- bellion, Dr Parker, happening to be on a visit to his friends at Nor- folk, did eminent service to the government, by his exhortations and services; he even ventured into the camp of the rebels, and boldly in- veighed against the sin of rebellion, charging them with disloyalty to God as well as to the king, and exhorting them to return to their allegiance, and disperse quietly. On the death of Bucer, who had long lived on terms of intimate friendship with Parker, the latter preached his funeral sermon. It was afterwards printed, and is much superior to the ordinary compositions of the day. A variety of promotions were conferred upon Parker during the reign of Henry. It is even said that he had the offer of a bishopric, but declined it. The accession of Mary changed the face of his for- tunes. In common with the other married clergy who would not put away their wives, he was stripped of all his preferments. But he bore his reverse of fortune with firm resignation. Strype quotes a MS. in the college library, which says of Parker at this period, that he " lurked secretly in those years (the reign of Queen Mary) within the house of one of his friends, leading a poor life, without any man's aid or succour; and yet so well-contented with his lot, that, in that pleasant rest and leisure for his studies, he would never, in respect of himself, have desired any other kind of life, the extreme fear of danger only excepted." Either from the remiss- ness of his enemies, or the kindness of his friends, he succeeded in secret- ing himself in these peculiar times, being, says Middleton, "reserved for better days." Among other treatises which employed his pen during this interval, was one in defence of priests' marriages against a book by Dr Martin. It was printed without his name, in 1562.' He also • Strype, p. 50t. Period.] ARCHBISHOP PAJllCER. 683 translated the book of Psalms into metre, which was afterwards prmted, l)rol)ably in 15G7. This book — which Strype says he never could get a sii^Iit ot^ — is divided into three quinqiutf/enes, witli the argument of lach psahn in metre placed before it, and a suitable collect at the end of each. Some copies of verses, and transcripts from the fathers and others, on the use of the psalms, are prefixed to it, witli a table dividin<^ tlicni into Prophetici, Ermlitorii, Consolatorii, 6cc. And, at the end, are added eight several tunes, with alphabetical tables to tiie whole. On the accession of Elizabeth, Parker left his retreat, and was sent for to town by his old acquaintance and college-fellow, Sir Nicholas Bacon, now lord-keeper. For a considerable time he resisted the lord-keeper's invitations ; iDut it had been resolved to elevate him to the primacy, and after extorting an imwilling consent from him, he was consecrated archbishop of Canterbury on the 17th of December, 1559. The subse- qu(>nt history of Archbishop Parker is that of the church of England. His first care was to have the several sees filled with learned and pious men. In this particular, he exercised a most wholesome influence on the state of religion throughout the kingdom, for it has been observed, that during the fifteen years of his primacy, he either consecrated or confirmed the bishops of all the dioceses in England, — a circumstance which has occurred to him alone of all the archbishops of Canterbury. He was also eminently useful in filling the chairs of the several colleges with men of sound learning and principles. Soon after his consecra- tion, he received a letter from the celebrated Calvin, urging him to entreat her majesty to summon a general assembly of all the protestant clergy, for the settlement of some uniform plan of church discipline and service. Parker laid the venerable reformer's letter before the council, who directed him to return thanks for the communication, but to signify that they were resolved to abide by episcopacy in ecclesiasti- cal affairs. In 1561, he united with some of the other prelates in an application to the queen, against the use of images. Their remonstrance succeeded upon this point, but he was less successful in his attempts to overcome the queen's repugnance to the marriage of the clergy. On one occasion in particular, she so rufHed the archbishop's temper on this point, that in a fit of chagrin and vexation, he addressed a letter to Secretary Cecil, in which he protests that her majesty's behaviour to him had quite indisposed him for all business, and that if she went on as she had threatened to force the clergy to any sinful compliance, he and others would obey God rather than man, and he trusted would have conscience and courage enough to embrace the stake leather than deny their faith, by pronouncing that unlawful which the Sci'iptures permitted and enjoined. It was with nearly equal difficulty that our archbishop moderated betwixt the queen and the clergy in the matter of ecclesiastical habits. By virtue of a clause in the act of uniformity, which gave the queen a power of enjoining any other rites or ceremonies she pleased, she sent forth her injunctions that the clergy should wear seemly garments, square caps, and copes. Many conformed to her majesty's wishes in this respect ; but others, who wei'e of opinion that popery might consist in dress as well as doctrine, declined to wear the cap and surplice. Hereupon the queen ordered the archbishops to con- fer with her ecclesiastical commissioners with the vicAV of establishing and maintaining an exact order and uniformity in all external rites and 684 ECCLESIASTICAL SERIES. [Fourth ceremonies of the church, and Parker accordingly drew up ordinances for the due order in preaching and administering the sacraments, and for the apparel of persons ecclesiastical. But the puritan party, headed by Dudley, earl of Leicester, stoutly resisted the execution of the ordi- nances, and Elizabeth herself— overcome by the arguments of her favourite — refused to sanction them for a time. They were at last published under the name of ' advertisements ;' and he then proceeded to enforce them with a zeal which procured for him from one party the name and reproach of being a persecutor, and from another the title and re- putation of a friend and supporter of the church of England. He con- tinued to struggle with the difficulties attending his office and the spirit of the times, until his 71st year. He died on the 17th of May, 1575. Parker's learning has never been disputed. His extensive liturgical reading pointed him out as one of the fittest persons for drawing up the book of common prayer, in which he accordingly had a principal hand. He was mainly instrumental in procuring the publication of ' the Bishop's Bible,' as it was called, which was undertaken and car- ried on under his direction and inspection. He edited the histories of Matthew of Westminster, and Matthew of Paris, and various other his- torical works which are enumerated by Tanner. The work on which he is generally supposed to have spent most of his time, was that ' De antiquitate Britanniaa ecclesiae.' It is doubtful, however, what share he had in this book : probably he did little more than plan it, and supply his assistants with materials from his own valuable collection of eccle- siastical antiquities. The original work is exceedingly rare, but a very elegant edition of it was published by Dr Drake in 1729. He had the taste and spirit of an antiquary, and was very useful in reviving the study of the Saxon language, from which he executed some translations. Middleton says of him : " he was pious, sober, temperate, modest even to a fault, being upon many occasions over-bashful, — unmoveable in the distribution of justice, — a great patron and zealous defender of the church of England, in which he acted with great resolution, it l)eing his rule ' in a good cause to fear nobody.' " mtf^avn Cox, MM BORN CIRC. A. D. 1500. DIED A. D. 138L The patronage of Wolsey first brought this ecclesiastic into notice. He was born of mean parentage at Whaddon in Buckinghamshire ; but having been sent to Eton school, was elected thence to King's college, where he attracted the cardinal's attention, who placed him on his new foundation at Oxford. His learning commanded the esteem of the university ; but, having spoken rather freely in favour of the reformed doctrines, he was glad to exchange his fellowship for the mastership of Eton school. The interest of Cranmer at last obtained for him some dignified appointments in the church, and he was appointed one of Prince Edward's tutors. In this latter situation, he rose rapidly in fa- vour at court, and in 1547 v/as elected chancellor of Oxford. It is said that, as one of the commissioners appointed to visit and report upon the state of the universities, he inflicted severe injury on the Period.] BERNARD GILPIN. 685 public liln-aries by dostroyinfr a great numbpr of books in his zeal against popery ; but, if ho hurt these seminaries of learning in this in- stance, he amply atoned for the loss inflicted on them by obtaining exemption for them from the i/peration of several acts levelled against the property of kindred institutions. On Mary's accession, Cox retired with other exiles to Strasburg. From this place he proceeded to Frankfort, where he got involved in a violent quarrel with some of his countrymen, who had sliown a disposi- tion to adopt the form of worship instituted by the reformers of Ge- neva. The magistrates of that city supported Cox, who had the satis- faction to see the books of common prayer forced upon his countrymen, and his principal antagonist among the refugees, the celebrated Joiin Knox, driven in disgrace from the citv on a charge preferred by Cox of having libelled the emperor. Aher a victory so little honour- able to himself, Cox returned to Strasburg, where he employed himself more laudably in organising a kind of university for the benefit of his countrymen in that city. On the demise of Mary, Cox returned to England, and was one of those divines who were appointed to revise the liturgy ; he also appear- ed on the protestant side in the great disputation held at Westminster between eight catholics and an equal number of the reformed clergy. His well-tried zeal for the church of England, his learning, his abilities as a preacher, and his sufferings for the faith, recommended him to the patronage of Elizabeth, who bestowed on him the bishopric of Ely. This preferment proved a fertile source of uneasiness to him, for his high notions as to the prerogatives of the clergy, and his strenuous op- position to whatever savoured in the remotest degree of papistry, even in the arrangements of the queen's private chapel, brought him iuto frequent collision with the rapacious courtiers of Elizabeth, and involved his old age in a series of troubles and contentions. Wearied out, he at last consented to resign his bishopric, upon an annual p-ension of £200 ; but the court found it impossible to prevail on any respectable ecclesiastic to accept of the see during the lifetime of the proper in- cumbent; and he accordingly retained it till his death, which happened in 1581. Bishop Cox was the author of several short pieces. He had also a principal hand in compiling the liturgy of the church of England ; and when the new translation of the bible, commonly known by the name of ' the Bishop's Bible,' was made in the reign of Elizabeth, the four Gospels, the Acts, and the epistle to the Romans, were assigned to him Bernarir (Gilpin* BORN A. D. 1517. DIED A. D, 1583. This excellent man was born at Kentmire in Westmoreland in the year 1517. He studied at Queen's college, Oxford, and made great proficiency in the logic and philosophy of the day, in so much that he was chosen, while yet a very young man, to oppose the introduction of the reformed doctrines into the university by disputing with Hooper and Peter Martyr in public. For this task he was better qualified than 68G ECCLESIASTICAL SERIES. [Fodk™ many others, having paid much attention to the Scriptures themselves, and possessing a critical acquaintance with the Hebrew and Greek languages. But the more he read of the Scriptures, the less confidence (lid he entertain in the tenets he was engaged to support. This state of mind greatly indisposed him to enter the lists with Peter Martyr ; but he resolved that at least he would use the disputation as a means of fairly testing the soundness of his own opinions. Truth was, in- deed, the sole object of his pursuit, and in this respect his candour and ingenuousness furnish a striking contrast to the perverseness and bigotry of most of the other impugners of the new doctrines. Martyr himself bears ample testimony to the worth of his young opponent: " For my other hot-headed adversaries," he writes, " I am not much con- cerned for them, but I am troubled for Gilpin, for he speaks and acts with a singular uprightness of heart." A diligent stiady of the contro- versy at last determined him to withdraw from the Romish communion. Gilpin continued at Oxford till the year 1552, when he was present- ed by Edward VI. with the vicarage of Norton in the county of Dur- ham, and also obtained, what was granted only to a few — a general license for preaching throughout the country. Soon after entering upon his charge, he felt himself so much embarrassed by doctrinal difficul- ties, that he resolved to seek the resolution of his doubts by confer- ence with the most eminent foreign divines, both catholic and protes- tant. But as no excuse appeared to him sufficient to justify non resi- dence in his parish, he resigned his living to a friend before taking his departure for the continent. His maternal uncle, Tunstal, bishop of Durham, viewed his act of resignation as a piece of folly and impru- dence. Gilpin excused himself by remarking, that he could not retain the living and his peace of conscience too. " Conscience 1" rejoined the bishop, " you might have had a dispensation I" " But I was afraid," rejoined Gilpin, "that when I came before the tribunal of Christ, it would not serve my turn to plead a dispensation for not having done my duty to my flock." On landing in Holland, Gilpin went first to Mechlin, where his brother George then was pursuing the study of the civil law. George was at this time a zealous catholic, but the visit of Bernard produced an entire revolution in his opinions, and he became soon afterwards one of the warmest advocates for the Reformation. He was subse- quently much employed in diplomatic negotiation during Queen Eliza- beth's reign, and was highly esteemed both for abilities and integrity. On the accession of Queen Mary, Bernard was offered promotion by his relative, Tunstal, who was now again in power, but he respectfully declined the proffered favour, not being yet able to undertake the duties of office in person. After an absence of three years, he returned to iiis native country. His friends tried to dissuade him from this step, for the Marian persecution still raged ; but he was nothing daunted by their representations, and fearlessly pursued what aj^peared to him the path of duty. His uncle received him with cordiality, and presented him with the archdeaconry of Durham and rectory of Easington. He entered upon his charge with an inflexible determination not only to do his duty to his parishioners, but in the performance of his arch- ieaconal functions, to omit no opportunity of bearing testimony against the corrupt principles and scandalous lives of the clergy. PiCKioD.l AKCIIBISIIOP GRINDAL. 687 Such conduct soon procured for him the dislike and opposition of the majority of his clerical brethren, who pronounced iiini "an enemy of the church and clergy, and a hroucher of new and dangerous doc- trines." For a time his uncle's influence served to protect him, but he was at last obliged to yield to the clamours of his adversaries and re- sign his archdeaconry, llo would have kept his parochial charge, but liis uncle refused to separate the two livings ; he, however, bestowed on him the valuable rectory of Houghton-le-Spring, which afforded him a sphere of action exactly suited to the turn of ids mind. It was an extensive charge, and one of the most ignorant districts in the whole country. Gilpin applied himself with his usual earnestness and assiduity to his new task, and met with his usual reward : the people admired and loved him, while the priests raised a clamour of heresy against him. He was in a short time cited to appear before Bonner, bishop of London, but the death of Queen Mary put a stop to the proceedings of his enemies, and gave him full liberty to pursue his benevolent plans. At the recommendation of the earl of Bedford, he was now nomi- nated to the bishopric of Carlisle, but he declined the honour, on the ground that he was wholly unequal to the station. The earl employed Dr Sandys, bishop of Worcester, to overcome his scruples, but without success. In the following year, he also declined the provostship of Queen's college, Oxford. He died on the 4th of March, 1583, after a life spent in such unwearied efforts of benevolence and apostolic cha- rity, as to gain for him the honourable titles of ' Father of the Poor,' and ' Apostle of the North.' BOii.N A. D. 1519 DIED A. D. 1583. Edmund Gbindal was born at Heusingham, in Cumberland, in 1519, and was sent to Magdalen college, whence he removed to Christ's college, and to Pembroke-hall, Cambridge, where he was chosen fellow, and took his degrees. In 1548, he was appointed senior proctor to the university, and, in the following year, he was chosen Lady Margaret's preacher. He became acquainted with Dr Ridley, bishop of London, who appointed him. his chaplain, and elected him to the precentorsliip of St Paul's. He was next made chaplain to King Edward, and, in 1552, he obtained a stall at Westminster Abbey. After King Edward's death he fled to the continent, and remained there until the death of Queen Mary. On the accession of Elisabeth, he returned to his native land, and soon obtained the notice of the leading friends of the Reforma- tion. He was engaged in preparing the new liturgy which was to be presented to the queen's first parliament. Not long after, he was in- trusted with the appointment of one of the commissioners for the royal visitation in the north, who were directed to require the oath of supre- macy, to inspect cathedrals, to notice the manners of the clergy, and to destroy the superstitions, images, &c. In 1562, the cruel Bonner was deposed from the bishopric of London, a^id Grindal was nominated to fill the vacant see. He was then ap- G88 ECCLESIASTICAL SERIES. (Tourtd pointed one of the queen's ecclesiastical commissioners, and in conjunc- tion with the archbishops of Canterbury, reformed the calendar, and ordered that the ten commandments should be set up at the east end of every church in the kingdom. In 1564, when some of the leading prelates began to display the spirit of domination over conscience, Bishop Grindal was ordered by the queen and Archbishop Parker, to prosecute all those who would not comply with the act of uniformity. He obeyed the mandate, but with so much gentleness and forbearance, that Archbishop Parker complained of him to the queen, who sent him a special letter, commanding him to be diligent in punishing all recu- sants. In 1570, he was translated to the archbishopric of York, a charge which he found exceedingly burdensome. On the death of Archbishop Parker, he was advanced to the see of Canterbury. Happy would it have been for the established church, had all those persons who possessed power and influence, been of the same character and governed by the same principles as our archbishop. He was deeply anxious to fill the episcopal pulpits with men of piety and of talent, but the ' head of the church' was of another spirit, and was more solicit- ous that her mandate should be implicitly obeyed, than that the people should enjoy the faithful dispensation of the gospel. The same year in which he entered on the see of Canterbury, he held a convocation, in which some articles for the regulation of the church were agreed upon. They were entitled ' Articles touching the admission of apt and fit per- sons to the ministry, and the establishment of good order in the churches.' In 1576, the encouragement he gave to what was called, ' the exercise of prophesying,' displeased the queen. It appears strange that tliose meetings which were so directly intended and adapted to promote solid knowledge and evangelical preaching among his clergy, and consequently the truest interest of the laity, should have brought upon him the frowns of his sovereign. These ' prophesyings,' as they were called, were simply meetings of the clergy, under the superintendence of the archbishop, at which, each in his turn explained some portion of scripture, when a moderator made his observations on what had been said and determined its true sense. The queen, however, viewed these meetings as seminaries of puritanism, and took so rooted a dislike to them, that she desired their entire abolition, and gave orders to that effect to Arch- bishop Grindal. Instead, however, of implicitly obeying her majesty's commands, which he felt to be in opposition to the rights of conscience and the will of God, he wrote a letter to her, in which he remonstrated with her, and exhorted her to leave religious affairs to the bishops and divines of the realm, and not to decide on them in the same peremptory manner as in civil affairs. This letter highly displeased Elizabeth, who knew no law but her own will, and after reiterating her commands, she caused an order to be sent from the star-chamber which confined him to his house, and sequestrated him from his office for six months. The honest archbishop did not choose to comply, and on an application from the lord-treasurer, his sequestration was continued, and some tlioughts were entertained of deposing him. This project was, however, laid aside ; yet the sequestration was not taken off until 1582, in which year he lost his sight and resigned his dignity. He obtained the pro- raise of a pension from the queen, but never regained her favour. He died at Croydojj in 1583. He was a man far in advance of the intoler- Period.] JOHN FOX. 689 ant times in wiiicii he lived. He was a prelate of profound learning, deep piety and admirable moderation ; mild, afiable and g(!nerous, — he was universally admired, respected, and beloved by all iiis protestant l)retlircn. He assisted tlu" French i)rotestants in obtainnif; permission to open a church in London, which was the origin of the jjresenf French church in Thrcafhucdle-street. He was the author of ' A Dia- logue between Custom and Truth,' published in Fox's Acts and Monu- ments. BORN A. D. 1517. — DIIiD A. D. 1587. This eminent murtyrologist was born of respectable parents at Bo.ston in Lincolnshire, in 1517, that memorable year in which Luther com- menced his attack on the papacy. His father died when he was young, and his mother being married again, his early education was intrusted to his father-in-law. When sixteen years old, he was entered at Bra- zen-nose college, Oxford, and at the early age of 21, was admitted to the degree of bachelor of arts. His talents and his extraordinary acquirements, the fruit of unwearied industry, soon recommended him to general notice, and in 1543 he became M.A. and was elected fellow of Magdalen college. In his youth, he displayed considerable aptness tor poetry, — a talent which he exercised in the composition of several Latin plays, founded on sacred history. The one which attracted the most notice, was entitled, ' De Christo Triumphante,' 8vo. published in Lon- don 1551, and at Basil 1556. It was afterwards translated by Richard Day, son of the great printer, in the reign of Elizabeth, under the title of ' Jesus Christ Triumphant ; wherein is described the glorious triumph and conquest of Christ over sin, death, and the law,' &c. The original work has been much admired for its elegant Latinity. But divinity was the great object to which Mr Fox directed his attention. For a consi- derable period after entering the university, he remained a papist. This wa« partly the effect of ignorance, partly of prejudice. Neither ignorance nor prejudice, however, could keep him long from the truth. The ardour with which he devoted himself to theological studies cor- rected the former, and his candour enabled him to triumph over the latter. The diligence with which he devoted himself to the study of every branch of theology, was, indeed, most astonishing. Of this his son, who wrote his life, has given us a most memorable proof. He tells us that his father, before he was thirty years of age, had read over all the Greek and Latin fathers, the schoolmen, and the proceedings of councils and consistories. Such an extensive course of reading, li^o thought no more than a proper preparation for forming a judgment on the controversies which then agitated the church. In the course of iiis studies, he became completely convinced of the errors of the Romish eimrch ; nor did he stop here, — the same honesty and candour of mind, and the same unflinching spirit of inquiry which had reclaimed him from popery, led him to see the errors of the English church. He did not escajx; the suspicious eyes of his bigotted contemporaries. As he was too open to disavow or disguLse his change of sentiments, his enemies '• 4 s 690 ECCLESIASTICAL SERIES. [Fourth soon had an opportunity of satisfying their suspicions. In 1545, accordingly, a charge of heresy was brought against him, whicli termi- nated in his being convicted of the crime, and in his expulsion from his liouse, — a very gentle commutation of punishment, as it was generally thought, for the death which such atrocious guilt undoubtedly merited. Thus a mark, of infamy was set upon him ; his friends forsook him, not daring to hold intercourse with a heretic ; and, what was worse than all, his fatlier-in-law basely took advantage of his helpless situation to de- prive him of his patrimony. He was thus reduced to the most abject want, but, at length, obtained a situation, however, in the house of Sir Thomas Lucy of Warwickshire, as the tutor of his children, where he con- tinued till his pupils grew up. It was during his stay here that he mar- ried the daughter of a citizen of Coventry. The house of his wife's father afforded him a refuge tor a considerable time after he left Sir Thomas Lucy's. He then came to London, where he was again exposed to all the hardships of the most cruel poverty. He was, at length, taken into the family of the duchess of Richmond, as tutor to her brother's children, Henry Howard, earl of Surrey, who was thrown into the Tower by the despotic Henry. In this family living at Ryegate in Surrey, he remained during the rest of Henry's reign, the few years of Edward's and part of Mary's. He was nobly protected by the duke of Norfolk, and according to Wood, was even restored to his fellowship in Magdalen college. The hateful Gardiner, however, now fixed his malignant eye upon him and made every effort to entrap him. The bishop was particularly intimate with the (iuke of Norfolk, and was incessantly asking that nobleman to introduce him to his tutor. This request was as constantly evaded. At length when the duke saw that his protection would no longer be of any avail, he told Fox they must part, at the same time furnishing him with the means of transporting himself to a foreign land. With this Fox readily complied ; but as, before he could embark, his bloody persecutor had a warrant out against him, it was with the utmost difficulty that he accom- j-lished his object. At length he succeeded in reaching Nieuport in Flanders in safety ; thence he journeyed to Antwerp, Strasburgh, and Basil. At this last place he maintained himself by correcting the press for Oporinus, the celebrated printer; and there too he meditated his great work — the ' Acts and Monuments of the churches.' During his exile, he united himself with those fellow-sufferers, who, renouncing the service-book of King Edward, had adopted the peculiarities of the school of Geneva. At the accession of Elizabeth, and the consequent restoration of the protestant religion. Fox returned to England, where he was heartily welcomed by his former pupil — now fourth duke of Norfolk — from whom he received a pension. The secretary, Cecil, also, obtained for him a prebend in the church of Salisbury. He had many powerful friemls, as the names of Grindal, Walsingliam, Drake, Gresliam, abundantly prove ; and if he would have dropped his Geneva peculiarities, there was no preferment which he might not have hoped for. But he was one of the few who will not pay the price of conscience for honours and emoluments, however splendid. Of this we have two or three striking instances. When Archbishop Parker summoned him to subscribe, the vei;f>rable man took out a Greek Testamer.t: and said, " To this will I P^RJon', JOHN FOX. 691 subscribe." Wlien told lie must subscribe to the canons, he refused, snyiiiti;, " I have nothing but a prebend at Salisbury, and if you like to take it away, much good may it do you." As tlie greater ])art of the bishops Iiad been his fellow-exih's, and hud been taught moderation by su tiering, tiu>y no longer moU^sted iiini. Me, on the otiicr hand, con- ducted liinHcIf with much pru(h^nee and circumspection, openly condem- ning the violence of some of the more zealous puritans. In 157;}, he adth-essed to the queen his memorable memorial on beiialf of the Ger- man anabaptists, who had refused to join either the Dutch or English chureii, and the cruel persecution of whom is one of the darkest blots on the history of protestantism. Fox's p tition wa.s rejected — but it did him infinite honour. Though Mr Fox held nothing in the church but the prebend, of which we have already made mention, he took every opportunity of preaching and doing good. His vast learning, sincere piety and luimility, commended him to universal esteem. He died in 1587, in tiie seventieth year of his age. Of the numerous works which Mr Fox published, by far the greater part were on controversial theology or ecclesiastical histor3\ The work, however, on which his fame rests, is his ' History of the Acts ana Monuments of the Church,' commonly called, the ' Book of Martyrs,' and on the composition of this work he spent many years of unwearied labour. Whitgift says, that Mr Fox " laboured very diligently and faithfully in this matter, and searched out the truth of it as learnedly as any man has done." In the compilation of this work, Mr Fox was furnished with every facility by Grindal and many other inHuential friends. It was first published in one volume folio, 1563, and so eagerly was it read, that in 1583 a fourth edition was required. The protestants, of course, valued this work highly; while the papists (lid all they could to depreciate its merits and to check its circulation. They called it the ' Golden Legend,' and represented it as a tissue of lies and slander. This was natural in catholics ; but there have also been professed protestants, who have endeavoured to discredit it. Collier, in his ecclesiastical history, has accused our martyrologist of bigotry, disingenuousness, and using violent language. That his lan- guage is here and there coarse and bitter, is only saying that Fox was not entirely free from the faults which characterized all the controver- sialists of the age ; and to say that there are mistakes in the work, is flying no more than that its author was fallible. In a work of such extent, it is impossible to avoid some errors; at the same time, there is not the slightest proof that Fox designedly misrepresented facts, while there is every proof that he consulted with prodigious labour every accessible authority and used his materials in the greatest fairness. The praise of such competent judges as Burnett and Strype, is enough to establish his character for accuracy and impartiality; and that has been most abundantly bestowed. "Mr Fox," says Strype, "nmst not go without the commendation of a most painful searcher into records, archives, and repositories of original acts and letters of state, and a great collector of MSS. And the world is infinitely beholden to liim for aliundance of extracts thence, communicated to us in his volumes. And as he hath been found most diligent, so most strictly true and faithful in his transcriptions." CartJinal ^Ileit. BORN A. D. 1532. DIED A. D. 1594. William Allen, cardinal priest of the Roman church, was born at Rossal in Lancashire, in the year 1532. His flither, John Allen, was a gentleman of good family and some fortune, by whom his educa- tion was carried on till he reached his fifteenth year, when he sent him to Oxford, where, in 1547, he was entered of Oriel college, and had Morgan Philip, or Philip Morgan, for his tutor. Under him he stud- ied with great success, especially addicting himself to logic and phi- losophy, in which he became so great a proficient, that he was unani- mously chosen fellow of his college, and took the degnee of bachelor of arts in 1550, being esteemed an honour to the university on ac- count of his great parts, learning, and eloquence. In 1556, he be- came principal of St Mary's hall, and in that and the following year, one of the proctors of the university, being then only twenty-four years of age. In 1558, he was made one of the canons of York, but, on Queen Elizabeth's accession, he, as a zealous catholic, lost all hopes of preferment, and, therefore, in 1560, withdrew to Louvain in the Spanish Netherlands, where an English college was erected, of which he became the principal support. At this time, several persons of great learning, and some of the boldest champions of the popish cause, resided in this place, with whom he quickly grew into great esteem, by the strength of his genius and the politeness of his manners. The gracefulness of his person, it is said, contributed much to obtain the attention of his associates, for with a majestic presence, he had an easy, affable deportment, and with the greatest severity of manners, a mildness of speech and behaviour which won the affection of all who conversed with him. Here he began to write in support of the catho- lic cause, and his first piece was against a work written by the learned Bishop Jewel, on the subject of ' Purgatory, and Prayers for the Dead.' The chiefs of the party abroad conceived the greatest hopes of this new disputant ; and as a mark of their confidence, put under his care a young man of an honourable family, who was come to study at Louvain. The care he took of this young pupil, and his application to his other studies, so far undermined his health, that his physicians were of opinion that nothing could restore him but his native air. On this ac- count, he ventured into England in 1565, and went at first, as advised by his doctors, into Lancashire, where he was born. There, without any regard to his personal safety, he laboured, to the utmost of his power, in making converts, and in dissuading such as were already catholics from going to heretical conventicles, that is, to the established churches. He wrote and distributed several little pieces, which were afterwards printed, and by so doing, rendered himself obnoxious to the government. Strict search was made after him by the magistrates, and he was obliged to conceal himself sometime in the neighbourhood of the city of Oxford. In this retreat, he wrote an apology for his party, under the title of ' Brief Reasons concerning the Catholic Faith.' Some 6UV this was written at the house of the duke of Norfolk, where, in Norfolk, I'KiMou.] CARDINiVL ALLEN. f"'^-^ it is (•(Ttaiii, our author was some time concpaled, tliouj^h he returned altiTwards to the neighbourhood of Oxford again, where he di»tril)utt;d his work, to fix the minds of such as wavered between the two ndi- gions, and to draw over such as already (hiubted their safety while remaining in the established church. Such success attended his en- deavours, that he chose to remain in this dangerous situation, promot- ing, by every means in his power, the doctrine of j)opery, and the sjiirit- ual jurisdiction of his holiness, and such as derived their authority from him. He even ventured to open a correspondence with some of his old friends in the university, and amongst the rest, with one who had for- merly been a catholic, but had since conformed to the established church, and whose friends entertained great hopes of his preferment. This person he drew back to his former opinions, which so exasperated his relations, that they persecuted Allen with so much diligence, that he was forced to fly towards London, and with much difficulty made his escape to Flanders in 1368, after remaining in England three years. In a]i probability he had some powerful friends here, amongst whom may be reckoned Sir Christopher Hatton, afterwards chancellor, who received part of his education at St Mary's hall, Oxford, while Allen was principal. On this account, Sir Christopher had a great tender- ness for Allen's person. After his return to the continent, he went to Mechlin, in the duchy of Brabant, where he read a divinity lecture in a certain monastery there, with great applause. Thence he went to Douay, where he become doctor of divinity, and laboured very assid- uously in establishing a seminary for English scholars. While thus employed, he became canon of Cambray, — a very considerable and honourable preferment, conferred on him purely to reward his zeal in the service of the catholic church. In this seminary of Douay, many books were composed to justify the ])opish religion, and to answer works written in defence of the church of England, which occasioned Queen Elizabeth to issue a proclamation, forbidding such books to be sold or read. In 1369, our author appointed one Bristow, moderator of stud- ies at Douay. It is probable that this was the person he drew over to his opinions when in England. Not long after, Dr Allen was appointed canon of Rheims, through the interest of the Guises, and to that city he removed the seminary which had been settled at Douay. The reason of this was, that the then governor of the Netherlands, Don Lewis de Requesens, had obliged the English fugitives to withdraw out of his government. Henceforward, Dr Allen was considered the chief oi the party, and in England was justly reputed a capital enemy to the state ; all correspondence with him was looked upon as the highest kind of treason, and Thomas Alfiekl, a Jesuit, was actually executed for bringing some of his books into England. The celebrated Robert Parsons, the Jesuit, was Dr Allen's great friend and counsellor, and probably put him on that great project, which, had it succeeded, would have overwhelmed the English, and which, as it miscarried, greatly weakened the Spanish monarchy. Dr Allen and the fugitive noble- men from England, persuaded King Philip to undertake the conquest of their native country. To facilitate this project, the pope, Se.xtus v., was prevailed on to renew the excommunication thundered against Queen Elizabeth by his predecessor, Pius V. Dr Allen wrote in defence of this base proceeding, and to give 694 ECCLESIASTICAL SERIES. [Fourth greater weight to his writings, was created cardinal, by the title of St Martin in Montibus, and soon after, the king of Spain gave him an abbey of great value in the kingdom of Naples, with strong assu- rances of greater preferment. In 1588, he composed that work, which rendered him most famous abroad, and infamous at home. It consisted of two parts ; the first explaining the pope's bull, for the excommuni- cation and deprivation of Queen Elizabeth, — the second exhorting the nobility and people of England to desert her, and take up arms in fa- vour of the Spaniards. Many thousand copies were printed at Ant- werp, in order to have been put on board the Armada, that they might be dispersed by the papists all over England, upon the first landing of tlie Spaniards. On the failure of this expedition, these books were so carefully destroyed, that very few remained. A copy of this work, as soon as it was printed, was transmitted by some of the lord-trea- surer's spies to the English council, and the queen in consequence sent Dr Dale into the Low Countries to complain of such proceedings to the prince of Parma, who disclaimed all knowledge of such books. In the same year the king of Spain promoted our author to the archbishop- ric of Mechlin in Flanders, where he would have had him constantly resident ; but the pope having a high opinion of the cardinal's merit, and finding him of great use in consistories, would not suffer him to leave Rome. The remainder of his life he spent at Rome in great honour and reputation, living in much splendour, and using all his in- fluence for the comfort and maintenance of such catholics as fled from England. In the last year of his life he is said to have changed his sentiments as to government, and to have been heartily sorry for the pains he had taken to promote the invasion of England by the Span- iards. He is generally said to have died of a retention of urine, but it was strongly suspected that he Avas poisoned by the Jesuits. His death took place on the 6th of October, 1594, in the sixty-third year of his age. He was buried with great pomp in the chapel of the Eng- lish college at Rome, where a monument was erected to his memory. In drawing the character of such a man, his admirers of the catholic profession are unbounded in their applauses of his zeal, his courage, his learning, his sacrifices, his consistency; on the other hand, with those who regard liim as a vindictive and rebellious subject, and as a bigoted and cruel papist, who was deeply engaged in planning the invincible Ar- mada, by which the rightful sovereign was to be dethroned, and the peo- ple of England subjected to the papal yoke, and by every instrument of torture, to be forced into an allegiance to King Philip or his holi- ness, — no terms seem too strong to express their abhorrence of his treason, and their detestation of his bigotry. How far he was influ- enced by his conscience, however deluded that conscience might have been, the day which shall reveal all secrets will determine. His zeal and activity in what as protestants we are bound to consider a bad cause, may however chide the lukewarmness and indolence of too many who despise the cardinal's religion, but appear to have far less estima- tion tor their own, than he manifested for his. Piiuiou.] BlSHOr AYLMEK. 095 33isljcip S!i)lmtr. iiOKN A. u. 15'il. — i)ii;i) A. I). 1594-. John Aylmer, or, as lie wrote it, (Elincr, was descended froiii a very ancient family, seated at Aylmer Hall, in the county of Norfolk. He was born some time in the year 1521, and, by liis great aptitude (i)r learning, reconnnended himself early to Henry (Irey, marquess of Dorset, afterwards duke of Sidfolk, who called liin) his scholar, and gave him an exhibition at tiie university of Cambridge. After he had there attained a competent provision of university learning, the mar- quess took him into his own house, where he became tutor to his child- ren. Lady Jane, who, for a few days, was styled queen, was one of hie Dupils. From her tutor she received right principles of religion. Mr Aylmer went early into the opinions of the reformers, and having the duke of Suffolk and the earl of Huntingdon for his patrons, he was, for some time, the only preacher in Leicestershire, in the reign of Edward VI. There he elfectually fixed the jirotestant religion. His first pre- ferment was the archdeaconry of Stow, in the diocese of Lincoln. This gave him a scat in the convocation held in the first year of Queen Mary, when he boldly opposed that return to popery to which the body of the clergy seemed inclined. He was one of the six who offered to dispute all the controverted points in religion against the most famous champions of the papists. When the supreme power began to use force instead of argument, the archdeacon made his escape beyond the sea. At first he resided at Strasburg, and afterwards at Zurich in Switzerland. His escape was almost miraculous, as the ship in which he was embarked was searched by the officers of the queen. During his exile, he diligently pursued his studies, and employed all his time in acquiring or communicating knov/ledge. About this time he wrote an answer to Knox's book against the government of women. After the accession of Elizabeth, he returned home, and was one of the eight divines appointed to dispute with as many popish bishops at Westmin- ster. A. D. 1562, he obtained the archdeaconry of Lincoln, by the favour of Mr Secretary Cecil. This dignity gave him the right to sit in the famous synod held the same year, wherein the doctrine and disci- pline of the church, and its reformation from the al)uses of popery, were carefully examined and settled. He was also appointed a justice of tiu; peace, and an ecclesiastical connnissioner. He obtained the degrees of bachelor and doctor in divinity in the university of Oxford, in October, 1573. In 1576, on the promotion of Dr Sandys to the archbishopric of York, Dr Aylmer was made bishop of London. His accession to this dignity was greatly furthered by his predecessor, who was his intimate friend, and had been his companion in exile. The condutft of Bishop Aylmer to this archbishop, after his promotion, was not very jcreditable to himself, for, although his Grace assisted at his consecra- tion on the 24th March, 1576, immediately after his promotion. Bishop Aylmer sued him for dilapidations, which, after some years' prosecu- tion, he recovered. On the 15th of December, our bishop began his first visitation, and the high church writers are very liberal in their 696 ECCLESIASTICAL SERIES. [Fourth praises of the rigour of his proceedings towards those ministers who had too much conscience to subscribe. He appeared, indeed, to have for- gotten that he was himself at one time an exile for conscience sake. He was, say his admirers, extremely assiduous in public preaching, and very careful in examining the candidates for ordination, while, at the same time, he kept a strict eye over all dissenters, as well as papists and puritans. The zeal of the bishop for the church as by law estab- lished, led him to some measures which exposed Kim to tiie charge of being a persecutor. He kept a straiter rein over the puritans than over the papists ; imprisoned a printer, named Woodcock, for vending a treatise, entitled, ' An Admonition to Parliament ;' and procured a gen- tleman in Berkshire, named Welden, to be committed by the ecclesias- tical commissioners. These proceedings roused the puritans, who treated him as an enemy to true religion. The bishop was resolved to keep the clergy of his diocese in due subordination to episcopal author- ity. On Sunday, the 27th of September, 1579, they were summ ned to his palace at one o'clock, and forty appeared, the dean was also present — when the bishop cautioned them of two things, — not to med- tUe with the Ubiquitarian controversy, nor with Stubb's book, entitled, ' The Discovery of a Gaping Gulph,' wherein the queen's marriage with the French king's brother was written against, and by which it was suggested the queen wavered in her religion. In 1581, the bishop had to contend with the Lord Rich who kept a puritan minister in his house, named Wright, whom he would have compelled the bishop to license to preacli in his diocese. The bishop had ' the powers that be ' on his side, in this struggle, and Wright was committed to the Fleet by the ecclesiastical commissioners. In 1583, he performed his trien- nial visitation, when he represented to the privy council many scandal- ous corruptions which he discovered in the ecclesiastical courts. About this time, he suspended certain ministers who were accused of noncon- formity ; and it appears that, after thorough examination of the matter, his lordship restored Mr Gifiord, whom he had twice suspended, when those who brought the charges against him could not substantiate them. In 1584, he obtained judgment against Archbishop Sandys, for a thousand pounds. In this year, also, he committed to prison Mr Thomas Cartwright, the famous puritan minister, who had written warmly against the hierarchy. In 1587, the bishop had much trouble on account of a school-master, named Robert Cawdry, whom the Lord Burleigh had presented to the living of South Lufterton in Rutland- shire, where, after preaching sixteen years, he was convened before the ecclesiastical commission, the bishop sitting as judge, and by whom he was at length deprived. Cawdry would not submit to the sentence, npon which the matter was re-examined by the ecclesiastical commis- sion, at Lambeth, by whom degradation was added to the former sen- tence. Cawdry still refused to submit to the sentence, and made fresh representations to Lord Burleigh, who favoured him as much as with justice he could ; but, after a contest of five years, no redress could be obtained : the sentences of the bishop and archbishop being supported both by the civil and common lawyers. In 1591, he caused the famous and learned Mr Cartwright to be brought before him out ol the Fleet, and expostulated with him in not very courteous language, on the disturbance he had occasioned to the church. The bishop wa;^ Peuiod.] archbishop WHITGIFT. ti97 riDU' gettincf old and infirm, and was much disappointed in not obtain- ing; the favour he strongly sc^lieitcd on behalf of Dr Biillingham, I)r Cole, and Dr Bancroft, wiioni he wished to see preferred to bishoprics. It was his particular wish tliat Bancroft should succeeil him, and, in- deed, he solicited leave to resign his diocese to him. In 1592, tlie bishop assisted at the visitation of his son, as archdeacon of London, and exerted himself with as much zeal and spirit as he iiad ever mani- fested in his younger days. Tliis is the last public act of the bishop's wiiicii we can trace; and, in 1594, he died, being seventy-three years t)f age. Tiie bisho]) had a numerous family : viz. seven sons and two oi three daughters. As to his personal qualities, the voice of his friends or his enemies will bear a testimony in perfect contrast. He was well versed in the three learned languages, and was a good logician ; was deeply read in history, and well skilled in civil law. His religion ap- peared to greatest advantage while he was A sufferer for conscience sake. When the sunshine of royal favour, and the good things of a na- tional establishment were enjoyed by him, he was too much lifted up with pride, and discovered a degree of passion, intolerance, and oppres- sion, which must excite a blush for human nature. The bishop be- queathed large legacies to his children, and also some to his grand- children. The earl}-- part of his life seemed to give promise of a bright- ^•r character than his concluding years displayed. The champion of protestant principles and of civil and religious liberty dwindled down into the abettor of arbitrary measures, and the factious oppressor of his fcllow-christians, setting the dictum of an earthly sovereign above the authoritative oracles of God. BORN A. D. 1530. — DIED A. D. 159o. John Whitgift, archbishop of Canterbury, in the reigns of Eliza- heth and James I., was of the family of the Whitgifts of Yorkshire, which boasted of considerable antiquity. His father, Henry, was a merchant of Great (irimsby in Lincolnshire. His uncle Robert, wa^ Abbot de Wel- low, near Grimsby, — a monastery of Black canons. He was one among the many, who, just before the Reformation, began to see the enormous corruptions of the Romish church, and to anticipate the changes that were soon to take place. " The religion we profess," said he to the sub- ject of this memoir, " cannot long continue ; I have read the whole scrip- ture through ; but never found it sanctioned there." To this man — so much before the generality of his contemporaries — the education ot Whitgift was intrusted. The year of Whitgift's birth cannot be exactly ascertained. Strype and Paul fix it in 1530; Francis Thynne in 1533. The place of his birth all agree was Great Grimsby. When quite young, he was sent to St Anthony's school, in London. He lodged in St Paul's church-yard at his aunt's, the wife of a verger of that church. Here our young scholar displayed an unequivocal preference for the doctrines of the Re- formation. This provoked his aunt, who was a mos* zealous catholic. I. 4 T 698 ECCLESIASTICAL SERIES. [Fockth After bearing with his heresies for some time, and making some ineffec- tual attempts to correct them, she dismissed liim, affectionately assuring liim at parting, tliat " she thought, at first, her lodger was a saint, — but she now perceived he was a devil." On his return home, his uncle advised that he should be sent to the university. In 1548, therefore, he was entered of Queen's college, Cambridge ; but soon exchanged for Pembroke-hall. Here he enjoyed the instructions of the celebrated John Bradford, tlie martyr. At his recommendation and that of Mr Grindal, afterward archbishop of Can- terbury, Whitgift became scholar of that town and Bible-clerk. In 1553-4. Whitgift took his degree of bachelor of arts. Another year saw him elected fellow of Peter-house; and in 1557, he commenced master of arts. About this time, Cardinal Pole visited the university, to make search for heretics, and to expel them. Whitgift, at first, thought of doing what so many of his countrymen were compelled to do both then and afterwards — seeking safety by self-banishment. At the solicitation of Dr Perne, however, a professed papist — who pledged himself for his safety, he ventured to remain. To the honour ol Dr Perne — that pledge was fully redeemed. In 1560, Whitgift entered into holy orders, and his first sermon at St Mary's was heard with much approbation. A few months after this, he became chaplain to the bishop of Ely, who gave him the rectory of Feversham in Cam- bridgeshire. In 1563, he became bachelor of divinity, and succeeded Matthew Hutton, as Lady Margaret's professor of divinity. The lec- tures he delivered in this character, he prepared for the press ; but for some unknown cause they were never published. Strype tells us, that he had seen the MSS. It was while thus engaged, that Whitgift joined the other professors in a petition to Sir W. Cecil for certain fresh regulations in reference to the election of the public officers of the uni- versity, the want of which had been much felt. Not long after this, kis fame as a preacher became so great, that Sir Nicholas Bacon, Lord Napier, sent for him to preach before the court. This ended in his becoming chaplain to the queen. Learning, in 1565, tliat some statutes enjoining uniformity of habits at the university, were about to be passed, he joined with others in writing to Cecil, to implore the court to desist. He soon had reason, however, to repent his temerity; and beceaiing an apt scholar as a courtier, not only apolo- gized for this unlucky letter, but henceforth found that there was much more in hoods and surplices than he had been previously aware of. But so great a favourite did he continue at Cambridge, that a license to preach throughout the realm was granted to him under the common seal, and his salary raised from twenty marks to twenty pounds. About 1567, he was appointed regius professor of divinity in Pembroke-hall. He remained iiere, however, only three months, being promoted by the queen to the mastership of Trinity college. This he owed to the patronage of Sir William Cecil. Soon after this, he became doctor of divinity In 1570, he compiled a body of laws for the university. We now came to that part of Whitgift's lite, which will ever be re- garded as the deepest stain upon his character, — his ungenerous con- duct towards his great antagonist, the celebrated puritan, Thomas Cart- nright, at that time Margaret professor. Dr Whitgift procured an order from the vice-chancellor and heads of houses to forbid Cnrtwrigtit Period.] ARCHBISHOP WHITGIFT. 699 ro rend any nion; lectures, unless fic would renounce his principles. Cartwrii^'lit, of course, refused so mean a compliance, merely to save liia professorship ; preferrini; ))ovorty witii a safe conscience, to wealth or pre- feruKiit without it. He justly complained, however, that this was but a miserable way of refutinj;- his errors, if errors they were, and a clear sul)- stitution of authority for argument. Nevertheless, the strong arm of tlie law is assuredly the best reason which persecution was ever able to giv(>. It would have been well for Whitgift's fame if he had stopped here, but in tiie controversy which afterwards ensued between him and his great antagonist, truth compels us to say, that he acted a yet more unworthy part ; he had the meanness to reproach Cartwright with those very miseries of which he had himself been the cause. He upbraided him Avith living upon charity, when none knew better than himself who had robbed him of his honest livelihood, — and of indolence, when lie had himself silenced him. The controversy, however, which had commenced with an exercise of arbitrary power, was to be carried on with other weapons. Stimulated by the charges of oppression which Cartwright hesitated not to make, Whitgift attempted a confutation of his opinions: this work he addressed to Archbishop Parker. It was not published, however, in the form in which it was composed ; but was afterwards embodied in his ' Answei to the Admonition.' In 1571, he became vice-chancellor; in June, dean of Lincoln. Three months afterwards, he obtained a dispensation to hold with it his prebend of Ely and rectory of Feversham, and any benefice whatever. He was now, at the instance of the archbishop of Canterbury, engaged in the composition of his ' AnsMX-r to the Admoni- tion.' The ' Admonition' Avas the first production of Field and Wilcox. In his reply to it, Whitgift received no small aid from Archbishop Parker and other learned men, so that this too may be ahnost considered as joint- production. To this performance — which undoubtedly displays great learning and no mean powers of reasoning — Cartwright replied in a work which has been called a masterpiece of controversy. In answer to this, with the promptitude which distinguished controvertists of those days, forth comes Whitgift's ' Defence,' folio, 1574. Cartwright, not a wliit behind, sends forth" the same year a quarto rejoinder, entitled ' The second reply of T. C. against Dr Wliitgift's second answer touching church discipline.' This, however, only contained a part of his reply; the remainder was not published till two years after, during his banish- ment. To this book, Whitgift attempted no answer. For this, dif- ferent writers, of course, assign opposite reasons ; some affirming that the doctor thought it too contemptible to notice ; others, with greater probability, that he found contempt more easy than refutation. Here ended the great controversy between these two champions. Of the respective merits of the disputants, persons will form very opposite estimates according to their opinion on the subjects of ecclesiastical government and discipline. As the controvertists, however, proceeded in two opposite principles, it v/as impossible they should ever convince each other. While Whitgift contended that, on the subject of church discipline and polity, the Scriptures were not a sufficient guide, but that their deficiencies must be eked out by the testimonies of the fathers and the traditions of the primitive ages; Cartwright, on the other hand, contended that the inspired writings were the only safe guide "n these points, — that the fathers have too often and too glaringly TOO ECCLESIASTICAL SERIES. [Fourth departed from Scripture even where its language was explicit, to war- rant our following them as a guide where Scripture had not enjoined the opinions they adopted, — and that it was most safe for the church in all ages to conform itself, as nearly as possible, to the simplicity of the apostolic times. Of the talents and learning of both these disputants, there can be no doubt, thougli, from the testimony Beza gives concern- ing Cartwright, one would judge him to be the more profound scholar of the two. That the controversy was carried on with much asperity and personality on both sides must be admitted, while it must also be admitted, that Whitgift's ungenerous conduct in the first instance, and his unrelenting persecution afterwards, leaves no room to wonder that he was not treated with mucli ceremony or courtesy by one whom he had so deeply wronged. But that Whitgift should have descended to up- braid his adversary with jioverty and insinuate suspicions of his learning, is not less wonderful than humiliating. The controversy issued of course in very different results to the two parties. While Whitgift was footing to an archbishopric, poor Cartwright was consigned to poverty, and exile ; and at length died in obscurity and wretchedness. How pleasant would it have been to say — that none of his suffer- ings were inflicted by his great antagotiist, but that he was treated by him with a generous magnamity ! Instead of this, Whitgift followed him through life with inflexible animosity. At each successive promotion, Whitgift displayed an accession of high church zeal, became a greater stickler for existing abuses, and more completely versed in all the most approved methods of checking the progress of puritanism. The bishop of Ely having proposed a plan for abolishing pluralities, and appropriating part of the superfluous wealth of the dignitaries of the church to the maintainance of the poorer clergy, Dr Whitgift opposed and ultimately succeeded in defeating it. In 1577, he was made bishop of Worcester. At this time Archbishop Grindal had given displeasure to the queen by his honest plain dealing, and his forbearance towards the puritans. Elizabeth — never very scrupulous where her ambition or thirst for ven- geance were concerned — wished Whitgift to accept the see of Canterbury, even during Grindal's life. To the honour of Whitgift, he absolutely refused to accept this offer. As soon as Grindal died, which happened in 1583, Whitgift was immediately appointed his successor: and no sooner had he attained this elevated station than he began to correct the abuses, as he esteemed them, which his predecessor's leniency had encouraged — in other words, he proceeded to put into force all the formidable artillery against the puritans with which the law armed him. These unhappy men, on account of the indulgence wiiich they had met with at the hands of Grindal, had sought his province as an asylum from persecution. For this blessed work of persecuting them, Whitgift obtained the queen's express orders. In 1563, he moved for an ecclesiastical commission ; and in 1584, issued twenty-four articles, which he sent to the bishops of his province, commanding them to de- mand from all the suspected clergy of their respective dioceses an answer to all those articles upon oatn, as well as to subscribe to the queen's supremacy, the book of common prayer, and the thirty-nine articles. Subscription to these three last articles was demanded during tlio very first M'eek after the archbishop's primacy. He knew very well Period.] ARCHBISHOP WHITGIFT. 701 that the second article wouhl not be taken by the puritans ; anJ, con- setjuently, at his very Hivst invitation not less than 233 ministers were susp(>n(le(l. Repeated and urgent were the petitions of the people to the (;ouncil, that tlieir silenced ]);istors might be restored ; but the ob- ilarate archbishop was not to be moved ; he resolutely opposed their petitions, and having obtained a now ecclesiastical commission, with more extensive powers, drew np the twenty-four articles above-men- tioned. So minute and specitic arc these articles that it was im])os- sible tiiat any clergyman who had the slightest objection to a single point in the church of England could conscientiously swear to them. It was not without reason, tiierefore, that Lord Burleigh wrote an ex- postulatory letter to the archbishop. In this letter, his lordship does not scruple to say, " I have read over your 24 articles, formed in a Romish style, of great length and curiosity, &c., and I lind tliem so curiously penned, so full of branches and circumstances, that I think the inquisition of Spain used not so many questions to comprehend and trap their priests.'' To this the archbishop replied at length, and of course in self-vindication. Finding him obstinate, the treasurer sent back only a short but very emphatic answer, which drew from his Grace another long letter. We cannot have a better proof than in this con- trast between the practical wisdom of the statesman, and the unbending, impracticable pertinacity of the churchman, of the truth of what Claren- don remarks, " that no men take so ill a measure of human affairs as ecclesiastics." To justify his harsh and vigorous measures, Whitgift was obliged to recur to the more than doubtful precedents of the pro- cedure in the star-chamber, the courts of the marches, &c. ; and to vindicate that oppressive expedient, the administering the oath ex mero officio, he tells us that if the dignitaries proceeded to the proof of delin- quencies by witnesses only, the law could only be partially executed, — expenses would be heavy — and there would not be sufficiently quick des- patch with the sectaries. No wonder that Cartwright found no mercy at the liands of such an opponent as this I In 1585, Whitgift, by a special order from the queen, was employed to frame rules for the regulation of the press. In 1586, he was sworn into the privy council, soon after which he drew up the statutes of the cathedral-churches. In 1587, on the death of Sir Thomas Bromley, the lord chancellor, the queen offered Whitgift that high office. This he declined. In 1588, appeared the celebrated pamphlet, entitled ' Mar- tin Mar-prelate,' in which the oppressive conduct of Wliitgift is most severely exposed. Two years afterwards, his old opponent. Cart- wright, was sent to the Fleet prison, chiefly for refusing to take the oath ex officio. In 1591, he was brought before the star-chamber, when, upon his giving bail for his peaceable behaviour, he was dis- charged. In 1595, during an interval of partial repose from other disputes, the ]iredestinarian controversy was agitated. It was at this time that Whitgift, in concert with Bancroft, bishop of London, Vaughan, bishop of Bangor, Ty ndale, dean of Ely, and others, drew up the famous ' Lam- beth Articles.' These articles are in the main in accordance with Cal- vinism. " I know them," said the archbishop, " to be sound doctrines." They were sent to Cambridge, with a letter from Whitgitl, in which he recommended that nothing should be publicly taught to the contrary. 702 ECCLESIASTICAL SERIES. [Fourth In 1593, he began to build his hospital at Croydon. This act of muni- hcence did not meet with all the gratitude to which it was undoubtetl- !y entitled, for it occasioned somr calumnious reports of his Grace's in- ordinate wealth. This induced the bishop to give an account of his revenues, which proved satisfactory. On the deatli of Elizabeth, Whitgift sent Dr Neil, dean of Canter- bury, into Scotland, to James, to learn his pleasure touching the gov- ernment of the church. Though the reply was gracious, the archbish- op's fears were by no means removed ; the puritans knew how James had been educated, and what he had promised, and openly expressed a hope of being released from fetters which had so long galled them. At length the celebrated Hampton court conference was appointed, at which the puritans were to state their grievances. Of the history and results of that conference we are not called here to speak. Suffice it to say, that Whitgift played the courtier on this occasion as well as he had before played the tyrant : it is impossible to say nuich more. The following may serve as a specimen : — When the king expressed his approbation of the law making the oath ex officio, he assured his majesty that he undoubtedly spoke " by the special assistance of God's Spirit ! " Whitgift did not live long after this " mock conference," as it has been justly styled. He was seized with a paralytic stroke, as he was going to the council chamber, and was conveyed to Lambeth, where, after lingering a few days, he died. Camden and Strype both intimate that grief for the state of the church, and fear of the efforts of the puritans, under a new king and a new parliament, had a share in his death. Any such distrust of the king, however, seems very im- probable, for, as Strype has observed, " by what we have heard before related in the king's management of the conference, and the letter he himself wrote to the archbishop, he had a better satisfaction of the king's mind." Whitgift was interred in the parish church of Croydon, where a monument was erected to his memory. To form a correct estimate of his character, requires hoth great can- dour and great discrimination. That he was exceedingly oppressive and tyrannical towards the puritans cannot admit of a doubt ; yet it is but just to say, tliat he appears to have been actuated by integrity of purpose, and to have been sincerely convinced of the rectitude of his own conduct. It ouglit, moreover, in fairness, to be stated, that the zeal and rigour which marked the early part of his career, considerably abated towards the close of life. His learning, there cannot be a question, was great, though, by many, it has been overrated. It is well known that Hugh Broughton, the celebrated Hebraeist, often objected to him, that he went no farther than the Latin, and, on the profounder points of theology, he appears to have been by no means well versed, though lie is admitted by all to have been an eloquent and powerful preacher. His fame cliiefiy rests, however, on his knowledge of ecclesiastical history and antiquities ; but still more in the talent and decision with which he exercised, in so many years, and in such critical times, the high functions with which he Avas invested. In the employment of his wealth he was not only charitable but nmnificent ; especially to distressed and persecuted ministers from abroad, whom Beza and others commended to his kindness. Nay, it Period.] RICIL\JID HOOKER 703 IS reported that he frequently remitted large sums to Ikzu liim- In his temper, he was irascible, — an iidirinity, aliis ! that is seldom found disunited from ardent zeal. This disposition, however, it is said, he partially subdued; so far, indeed, that the 'judicious Hooker' scruples not to say, " that lie always governed with tliat moderation which usctli, by patience, to suppress boldness." Nevertheless, there were incontrovertibly seasons in which he governed, but without modera- tion, and displayed far more boldness than patience. He publish- ed nothing but what the controversy w ith Cartwright provoked. In Strype's life, however, will be found a curious colhction of his papers, declarations, letters, &c., which form both a valuable commentary on his own character, and one strikingly illustrative of the times in which he lived. nORN A. D. 1533 DIED A. D. IGQO. This celebrated divine was born at Heavitree, near Exeter, about the year 1553. His parents were respectable in character, and oi niiddling circumstances, but neglected not the education of their son. He was placed at the grammar school of Exeter, and, by his early genius, modesty, and inquis;irive mind, won the affections of his tutor. This worthy man interested himself exceedingly for young Hooker ; and, by his earnest persuasion, the youth w as continued at school to w-ait for some opening whereby he might proceed to college. Being now destined for the church, his parents and tutor redoubled their diligence to instil into his mind the principles of piety and vir- tue ; and the tutor did his part toward the advancement of his pupil in the paths of learning. Young Hooker had an uncle, possessed of wealth, and residing in the city of Exeter, chamberlain of the city, and representing it in parlia- ment ; learned also in antiquities, and able to appreciate the value of education. To this gentleman the tutor applied, on behalf of his pupil, to prevail with him to become his patron, and send him to college. The uncle assenting, Richard was introduced by him to Bishop Jewel, whom he " besought, for charity's sake, to look favourably upon a poor nephew of his, whom nature had fitted for a scholar, but the estate of his parents was so narrow, that they w^ere unable to give him the advan- tage of learning, ami that the bishop would, therefore, become his pa- tron, and prevent him from being a tradesman, for that he was a boy of remarkable hopes." Being now in his fourteenth year, Richard was directed, by ihe bishop, to remove to Oxford, and there to attend Dr Cole, then presi- dent of Corpus Christi college, who appointed him a tutor, and made him Bible-elerk of the college. Hei-e he continued under the instruc-. tion of Dr John Reynolds until he was eighteen ; and his patron, the bishop, took care to recommend him so strongly to Sandys, archbishop Of York, that he had the bishop's son for a pupil at Oxford. About this period, he had a dang(!rous illness, which lasted t\io months. On hi^^ 704 ECCLESIASTICAL SEMES. [Fourth rocoveiy, he took, a journey on foot, with a college friend, to see his ii\other, who had been extremely anxious for his recovery. On his way, he called on his patron, the bishop, at Salisbury, who treated him with great friendship, enjoining him to return to him on his way back. In the meantime, however, the bishop died, and Hooker became deject- ed at the loss of his patron. His friend, Dr Cole, however, promised iiim his assistance, and, in a short time, he was chosen to be one of the twenty scholars of the foundation, being a native of Devonshire. Having taken his degree of master of arts, in 1577, he was chosen fel- low of the college. At this time Hooker conti-acted an intimacy with several learned men, whose names are well known to the world, among whom were Sir Henry Savil, Dr J. Reynolds, and Dr Spence. His two distinguished pupils. Sir Edwyn Sandys and George Cranmer, ne- phew to the archbishop, entertained for him the highest regard, and be- came his intimate friends. Thus pursuing his studies till about 1581, he then entered into orders, and was, according to the college statutes, immediately appoint- ed to preach a sermon at St Paul's Cross, London. On arrival in town, after a fatiguing and uncomfortable journey on horseback, he was lodged at a dwelling appropriated for the preachers, called the Shunamite's house. This was kept by a person of the name of Churchman, whose wife, pitying Mr Hooker's sad plight, nursed him very assiduously, thereby ena- bling him to go through the duty for which he came. The worthy preacher (elt his hostess's kindness so gratefully, that he was easily persuaded to pro- mise her that he would enter into the matrimonial estate, and commit to her care the business of choosing him a wife. Mrs Churchman soon fulfilled her commission, by proposing her own daughter, who soon after became Mrs Hooker. Having thus lost his fellowship, and, according to report, made a most unequal match, he was presented, in 1584, to the rectory of Drayton-Beauchamp, in Buckinghamshire, where, having continued about a year, his two pupils, Edwyn Sandys and George Cran- mer, on their return from their travels paid him a visit. They found him tending a few sheep on the common, with the odes of Horace in his hand, and learned that they must stay with him there till the ser- vant's return. They had scarcely entered the parsonage when Mrs Hooker sent for her husband to rock the cradle ; and the visitors, find- ing their presence unwelcome to the lady, took their departure hastily, much lamenting their beloved tutor's condition, to which, however, he was piously resigned, as appears by his reply to George Cranmer's nondolement, — ""My dear George, if saints have usually a double share in the miseries of this life, I that am none ought not to repine at wiuit my wise Creator hath appointed for me, but labour, as indeed I do daily, to submit to his will, and possess my soul in patience and peace." On their return to London, Edwin Sandys earnestly solicited his fa- ther, then bishop of London, to provide for Hooker's more comfortable maintenance. An opportunity soon occurred by the death of Mr Alvy, master of the temple, who, for his learning and consistent deportment, liad acquired the appellation of Father Alvy. The archbishop so strongly recommended Mr Hooker to succeed their late friend, that the benchers f^ffered him the appointment, which, though pressed by the bishop, he w r\s most reluctant to accept, preferring a more private and quiet sta- tion. His aversion, however, being overcome by the bishop's persua- sions, he was, by patent, made master of Che tcMiiple for life, bein<» then in the 34th year of his ai^c. The publicity of this situation was not e4iitable to the habits of Ilooker, nor was he able to enjoy that personal quietness wliich he desired. Being tlie morning lecturer at the; temple, in the room of Mr Alvy, the afternoon preacher was Mr TraviTS, who followed the opinions of Cartwright the puritan, and leaned to the pres- byterian side in discipline. This contrariety of sentiment led to an amicable controversy between the lecturers, who seem to have enter- tained for each other all due respect. Tims, it was observed, " the fore- noon sermon spoke Canterbury, and the afternoon Geneva." This pulpit warfare having continued sometime, and the benchers be- ing as tUvided as their preachers, Travers's sentiments beginning to pre- vail in the temple, the archbishop, Whitgift, put a stop to Mr Travers's preaching, by a positive prohibition. Travers appealed in vain to the queen, though powerfully supported in the council by the earl of Lei- cester and others. The archbishop, her ' little black husband,' as she termed him, effectually excluded him, and thus decided the controversy in the temple. But Mr Travers having published his memorial address- ed to the queen, and his cause being taken up by persons of great con- sideration, Hooker was called upon, also, to appear in print with his answer, which he dedicated to the archbishop. Mr Travers accused Hooker of maintaining several doctrinal errors, particularly this, that ni^en might be saved although they mingled their own merits with those of Christ, — supposing, for example, a pope or cardinal to renounce all error, this one opinion of merit excepted, that we ought not to con- clude them without hope. The removal of Mr Travers from the temple, in this way, gave much offence to many of the benchers, who were not careful to transfer to Mr Hooker the respect which they had manifested to their late minister. Hooker, however, thought to win them, by composing a regular treatise on church polity, to be comprised in eight books, justifying to the utmost the established order of the church of England. This work was to de- fend the doctrine of the church's power to make canons for the use of cere- monies, and, by law, to impose an obedience to them as upon her children. Having commenced the work in the temple, he found too much dis- traction in that situation, and, therefore, solicited the archbishop to re- move him to the country. In his address he says, — " I am weary of the noise and oppositions of this place : indeed God and nature did not intend me for contentions, but for study and quietness ; and, my lord, my particular contests here with Mr Travers have proved the more un- pleasant to me because I believe him to be a good man, and that belief hath occasioned me to examine mine own conscience concerning his opinions ; and to satisfy that, I have consulted the holy Scripture, and other laws, both human and divine, whether the conscience of him, and others of his judgment, ouglit to be so far complied with by us as to alter our frame of church government, our manner of God's worship, our praising and praying to him, and our established ceremonies, as often as their tender consciences shall require us ; and, in this examina- tion, I have not only satisfied my=!elf, but have begun a treatise, in ivhich I intend the satisfaction of others, by a demonstration of the reasonableness of our laws of ecclesiastical polity, and therein laid a hopeful foundatiif!3spd obedience and order, without which peace could not be in hia- PicRioD.] DEAN NOWELL. 707 vcn ; and, oh, that it inijj;ht be so on earth I addiiif^ these words : — " I liave lived to see this worhl is made up of perturbations, and I liavn been hing preparing to leave it, and gatiiering comfort for the dreadful hour of making my account with God, which I now apprehend to be near ; and though I have, by his grace, loved him in my youth, and ft'annl him in mine age, and laboured to have a conscience void ol ortence to him, and to all men, yet if thou, O Lord, be extreme to mark v'hat I have done amiss, who can al^idc; it ? and, therefore, where I have failed. Lord, show mercy to me ; for I plead not my righteousness, but the forgiveness of my unrighteousness for his merits who died to pur- chase a pardon for penitent sinners ; and since I owe thee a death. Lord, let it not be terrible, and then take thine own time. I submit to it. Let not mine, O Lonl, but thy Avill be done." Then falling into slum- ber, on his awaking he said, — " Good Doctor, God hath heard my daily petitions, for I am at peace with all men, and he is at peace with me; and from wiiich blessed assurance I feel that inward joy which this world can neither give nor take from me." Soon after uttering these words, he expired, in the 46th year of his age, and a. d. 1600 BORN A. D.1507. DIED A. D. IGOl. The name of Alexander Nowell, during a period of seventy years, was intimately connected with the civil and ecclesiastical history of his country. He was the son of .John Nowell, of Read, in the county of Lancaster, and was born in 1507 or 1508. He was educated at Mid- dleton, and became a member of Brazen-nose college, Oxford, at the early age of thirteen. In his twentieth year, he was a public reader of logic in that university. In 1543, he was appointed second master on the new foundation of Westminster school, in v/hich important station he is said to have instilled the principles of the Reformation into tiie minds of his pupils, while reading with them the New Testament in the original language. The successor of Nowell in the mastership of Westminster, was Nicholas Udall, famous, like Busby, ' for erudition and for flogging.' In the first parliament of Mary, Nowell was returned for Loo, in Cornwall, but was not permitted to take his seat, on the ground of his being a prebendary of Westminster, and merely having a voice in the convocation. The decision was by no means a correct one, for none below the dignity of dean or archdean were bound to personal appear- ance in the convocation ; but Nowell found it expedient to submit to it, and soon afterwards to remove altogether from the kingdom, and join his exiled countrymen in Germany. In their society he distin- guished himself by his endeavours to preserve and promote the genera! harmony, which was threatened with interruption by th(> unfortunate disputes which occurred amongst them, on the subject of church govern- ment. On the accession of Elizabeth, Nowell returned to England, and was made one of the commissioners for the visitation of the king- dom. His brother, Laurence, was appointed dean of Lichfield ; him- self, rector of Saltwood, prebendary of Canterbury, prebendary of Westminster, and, finally, dean of St Paul's, In 1563, Now ell was chosen prolocutor of the lower house of convocation, when the articles of religion were revised and subscribed ; and, on this occasion, he pro- posed that some other long garment should be used instead of the surplice ; that the sign of the cross should be omitted in baptism ; that kneeling at the communion should be left to the discretion of the ordi- nary, and that saints' days should be abrogated ; but he was over- ruled in these judicious propositions, by the voice of the majority. The principal production of Nowell's pen, is his ' Catechism,' which ivas first published in June, 1570, in Latin. Shortly afterwards, a Latin abridgment of it appeared, and both were immediately translated into English, by Thomas Norton. They are still standard books. Novvell died on the 13th of February, 1601. His character has been thus ably summed up by his latest and best biogra])her, Mr Churton : — " Nowell was one of those holy builders, who, in repairing the breaches of our Sion, did not use ' untempered mortar.' Endowed with excellent parts, lie was soon distinguished by the progress he made in the schools of Oxford, where he devoted thirteen years, the flower of his youth, and the best time for improvement, to the cultivation of classical elegance and useful knowledge. His capacity for teaching, tried first in the shade of the university, became more conspicuous when he was placed at the head of the first seminary in the metropolis , and, at the same time, his talents as a preacher were witnessed and ap- proved by some of the principal auditories of the realm. Attainments such as these, and a life that adorned them, rendered him a fit object for Bonner's hatred ; but Providence rescued him from the fangs of the tiger, in the very act of springing upon his prey. * Habiiermit virtutes si)ntium exemplorum ' Retirement, suffering, and study, in the company of Jewell, Grindal, and Sandys, stimulated by the conversation and example of Peter Martyr, and other famed divines of Germany, returned him to his na- tive land, with reunited vigour and increasing lustre, when the days of tyranny were overpast. Elizabeth, and her sage counsellor, Burleigh, placed him at once in an eminent situation among those of secondar}' rank in the church, and accumulated other preferments upon him, and would probably have advanced him to the episcopal bench, had not his real modesty, to- gether with the consciousness of approaching old age, been known to have created in him a fixed determination not to be raised to a station of greater dignity ; which, however, all things considered, could scarce- ly, in his case, have been a sphere of greater usefulness. Near to his friend and patron, Bishop Grindal, near also to his other illustrious friend and patron, the excellently pious and prudent Archbishop Parker, and not distant from the court, he was an able coadjutor to each and to all., in bringing forward and perfecting what they all had at heart, — the restoration of true and pure religion. It is indeed impossible to view him, in the department assigned him, without love and admiration. Meek, retired, and unobtrusive, he is ready at every call of duty ; he is solicited from all quarters, and on all occasions. If a sermon, on some great emergency, is to be preached at the cross, at court, or be- fore parliament, — Nowell is the preacher. If the relentless hand of death I'iiRiOD.J THOMAS CAllTWMGHT. 709 has deprived the nation of one of its brif,ditost ornaiiicnts, of either s(x, an Aseham, a Sidney* or a Cecil, — he is requested to consoh; the sur- viving relatives in a iuiieral discourse, and to convert the connnon ex- an)j)le into benefit. Wlien tiic beautiful and lofty s])ir(! of St Paul's, by a stroke from heaven, is laid in ashi's, the dean is tin; person who successfully exhorts the generous citizens to a speedy reparation of the sacred edifice. When the j)roud armada has been defeated, — he is se- lected to announce in the house of God the unparalleled victory, and to prepare the public mind for public tiianks. If donations are solicit- ed for the university in winch he was not educated, at the hands of those wl'o are ever ready to give, — the opulent merchants and inhal)i- tants of the metropolis, — their thoughts are immediately fixed upon Mr Nowell, and he is desired to be treasurer of the bounty. When contributions are requested for distressed protestants abroad, those of first rank and influence in the nation, wisliing to forward the object of the petition, particularly desire tlie aid and advice of Nowell." BORN A. D. 1535. DIKD A. D. 1603. Tins distinguished puritan divine Avas born in the county of Hert- ford, about the year 1535. At the age of fifteen, he entered St John's college, Cambridge. Here he pursued his studies so closely as never to allow himself more than five hours for repose — a rule to which he adhered through life. On the death of Edward VI. and the general conformity of the clergy to the popish ritual, he found it expedient to withdraw from college, and to engage himself as assistant to a barrister. On the accession of Elizabeth, when the clergy reverted back to protes- tantism, Cartwright was inducted into his college again. The bent of his mind was toward the study of theology; but he neglected no branch of useful knowledge, and he was distinguished for his acuteness in logic. In 1560, he became fellow of his college, which he quitted iii 156.3, for another fellowship in Trinity college, where he was soon ap- pointed one of the socii majores. In 1564, her majesty was magnificently entertained at the university, on which occasion a philosophy-act was held, and Cartwright engaged in it as first opponent. In 1567 he commenced bachelor of divinity, and in 1569 was made Margaret professor of divinity. His professor- ship implied his qualification for the degree of doctor of divinity, and accordingly he put in his claim for a diploma at the ensuing commence- ment ; but the symptoms of puritanism were too apparent to allow of his obtaining this honour. His popularity, however, sufi'ered no abate- ment from this opposition ; and his lectures on the Acts of the Apostles at St Mary's, drew crowds of admiring auditors. Cartwright was no advocate for ceremonies ; and such was the effect of his sermon at the clia))el of his college, on one occasion, that all the students, except three, appeared at evening-prayer without the surplice, against which he had been inveighing. Mr Cartwright proceeding in the work of reformation faster than was agreeable to the queen and the bishops, Grindal, archbishop of York, 710 ECCLESIASTICAl, SERIES. [Fourth addressed a letter, June 24th, 1570, to the chancellor of the university, Sir William Cecil, then secretary of state, wherein he pressed that some course might be taken with Mr Cartwright. He represented, that his lectures were directed against the external polity and officers of the church, and that, consequently, the students who were very " toward in learning," attended in great numbers, and were in danger of being " poisoned by him with love of contention and liking of novelty." He accordingly solicited the chancellor to procure Cartwright and his ad- herents to be silenced, " both in schools and pulpits," and if they could not be reduced to conformity, to expel them from their colleges or the university, as the case should require. He also urged upon the chancellor, that Cartwright might not be allowed to take his degi'ee or proceed doctor in divinity for which he had made application. Cartwright immediately appealed in an elegant Latin letter to the chancellor, affirming that he was averse to every thing seditious or con- tentious ; that he had not taught any doctrine which his texts did not justify; and that he had cautiously avoided treating of the habits, even when an occasion offered itself: but he admitted having taught that the ministry of the church had declined from that of the ancient and apostolic church, and that he wished it should be framed on a purer model. Even these sentiments, he said, he had delivered " sedately, and in a way which none but some ignorant or malignant hearers could find fault with." This reply was favourably received by the chancellor, who, however, forbade him " to read upon those nice questions." Cartwright soon after presented to Dr May, the vice-chancellor, a paper containing several propositions relative to ecclesiastical reform, of which the follow- ing are the heads. " 1. The names and functions of archbishops and archdeacons ought to be abolished. 2. The offices of the lawful minis- ters of the church, as bishops and deacons, ought to be reduced to the Scriptural and apostolical institution ; — the bishops to preach the word of God and pray, and deacons to have charge of the poor. 3. The government of tlie church ought not to be intrusted to bishops, chan- cellors, or to officials of archdeacons ; but every church ought to be governed by its own minister and presbytery. 4. Ministers ought not to be at large, but should have each charge of one particular Hock. 5. No person ought to solicit or stand as a candidate for the ministry. 6. Ministers ought not to be made and appointed by the sole authority of bishops ; much less in a study or other private place ; but the election ought to be made by the church. These reformations being effected, every one should labour in his calling : the magistrate should act by his authority, — the ministry by the word,— and all by their prayers." These propositions the vice-chancellor May admonished him to revoke, and, on his refusal, punished him by " the subtraction of his stipend," and so he continued in his lecture that year ; but the next year Dr Whitgift, being vice-chancellor and armed with authority, summoned Cartwright before him, requiring " his absolute answer, whether he did mind to teach his auditor's otherwise, revoking what he had before taught, or would abide in the maintenance of the same ?" Cartwright, in reply, avowed boldly that " the propositions were what he had openly taught, and still continued determined to maintain and defend." On receiving this decided answer, Whitgift proceeded to Peuiod.] THOMAS CARTWRIGHT. 711 pronounce sentence of deposition on him, whereby he was removed irom his profcssorshij) and prohil)it('d from pn^aciiini; within tiio university and its jiirisilictiori. The propositions said to l)e danj^erous and seditious, gatliereil from his lectures and private conversations, were sent to court by Wliitgift to ' incense' tiie qiu'en and chancellor against Cartwriglit. One of the charges against him was that he was guilty of perjury. This, however, vanishes into a men; pretext when it is found that the accusation relates to Cartwright's remaining only in deacon's orders when the statutes of the college required that he should proceed to priest's orders : yet long afterwards, Whitgift insisted that he had ex- pelled Cartwright for perjury. On his expulsion from the university, Cartwright was received into the houses of his private friends and supported by them, at the same time employing his time carefully as a tutor to their children. At length he found it prudent to witlidraw to the continent, where he formed an accpiaintance with Beza and other eminent scholars and divines. He was ultimately induced to accept the office of minister of the English merchants at Antwerp, and afterwards removed to Middleburgh, where he remained about three years. After an absence of about five years, he returned to England. Controversies on the subject of reformation then running high, Cart- wright soon took a leading part in them against his old opponent, Whitgift, who had answered ' the Admonition to the Parliament,' for which work the principal authors, Field and Wilcocks, were suffering rigorous imprisonment in Newgate. To this answer, Cartwright replied in a quarto volume, and gained great credit for the performance, his enemies themselves being among those who expressed encomiums on the ability he displayed. But for that very cause it was deemed the more important to get the work suppressed and its author chastised. To this end, December 11th, 1373, a warrant was issued from the high commission court for the apprehension of Mr Cartwright, who notwith- standing, escaped their hands and fled to Heidelberg. We have already noticed the progress of this controversy in our account of Cartwright's archiepiscopal opponent. While on the continent, Cartwright became once more the minister of the English factory at Antwerp. After passing some years there, disease had so encroached on his constitution, that his physicians thought he had no other chance of prolonging his life than by re- turning to England. He ventured to solicit of the lords of the council, — through the earl of Leicester and the lord-treasurer Burleigh, — per- mission to return to his native country without being liable to molesta- tion. Leicester had made respectful and honourable mention of him in parliament the preceding session, and now both he and Cecil repre- sented his condition to the queen, but were unable to assure Cartwright of her protection. He resolved, nevertheless, to return in the year 1584-5, but he had scarcely landed, when he was apprehended and imprisoned on the authority of Aylmer, then bishop of London ; but the government evinced its disapprobation of so harsh a measure. In this dilemma, the bishop resolved to indict him in the name of the queen. Her majesty then became offended, and Aylmer was obliged to write lo the lord-treasurer to intercede on his behalf in the following terras : — " I understand myself to be in some displeasure with her Majesty about 712 ECCLESIASTICAL SERIES. [Fourth Mr Cartwriglit, because I sent word to your lordships by the clerk of the council that I committed him by her majesty's commandment. Alas ! my lord, in what a dilemma stood I, that, if I had not showed that warrant. I should have had all your displeasures, which I was not able to bear : and using it for my shield (being not forbidden by her majesty) I am blamed for not taking upon me a matter wlierein she herself would not be seen. Well, I leave it to God and to your wisdom to consider in what a dangerous place of service I am I But God, whom I serve, and in whose hands the hearts of princes are, as the rivers of waters, can and will turn all to the best, and stir up such honourable friends as you are, to appease her highness's indignation." Cartwright thus shielded from the violence of his episcopal adver- saries, enjoyed some needful repose, which was not, however, unproduc- tive ; nor, in truth, was it possible that the learning and abilities of iuch a man could be effectually obscured. Indeed, so much were they held in esteem, really by his adversaries, and avowedly by the most learned among the reformed, that, on the one hand, Cartwright's work's were committed to the hands of the celebrated Richard Hooker and his assistants, to be answered by the work on ecclesiastical polity ; and, on the other hand, Cartwright was pointed out by Beza as the fittest person in England to defend the protestant cause against the perver- sions of the papists in the Rhemish translation of the New Testament. This work, therefore, to the honour of Cartwright, and the successful defence of truth, was placed, by authority of the council, in Cart- wright's hands ; and the sum of one hundred pounds was transmitted by the lord -treasurer toward the expense of books and other needful assistance in the work. This important duty, however, was not in agree- ment with the will of Archbishop Whitgift, who, on learning that Cart- wright was thus employed, immediately prohibited him from proceeding. This mandate he found it necessary at first to comply with, but after- wards he made considerable progress in the work, to the great satisfac- tion of the learned among the reformed. Mr Cartwright was now become a family man, with a wife and se- veral daughters. He married the sister of Mr Joiin Stubbs, student of Lincoln's Inn, who suffered the amputation of his right hand for the offence of publishing a book against the queen's projected marriage. His patrimonial estate at Waddon, in Cambridgeshire, he had beer obliged to sell, and his wife obtained some profit from the business of malt-making : but Cartwright had not chosen the path to ecclesiastical preferment. He was, however, after a period of domestic difficulty from the persecution of his enemies, and increasing bodily infirmities, taken under the patronage of the carl of Leicester, and by him ap- pointed about the year 1586, to be master of the hospital which the earl had founded at Warwick. To this office was attached a stipend of one hundred pounds per annum, which was much lessened after the earl's death in 1388. To this patron, and to his brother, the earl of Warwick, Cartwright was indebted for much protection and coun- tenance ; and the earl of Leicester offered him the provost-ship of Eton (college, which he declined. Warwick, therefore, became his home, though he had long intervals of absence, through the arbitrary proceed- ings of his enemies. Ill November 1390, he was summoned up from Warwick to appear Pkriod.] THOiLVS CAHTWRIGIIT. 71. '5 before the star-chamber. With Edmund Snape and other puritan mi- nisters, he was indicted " fur settinc^ up a new discij)line and a new form of worship, and subscribing tiunr hands to it." The whole were committed to the Fleet prison, and there they remained through the winter. In the spring, Cartwright pleading his age and infirmities, " feeling," as he says, " the gout and stone both to grow fiist upon me, I applied to Lord Burleigh for relief, but without success." In May 1591, Cartwright was sent for by the bishop to appear before him and Dr Bancroft, and some others of the ecclesiastical commission. On this occasion, there was a long discussion on the subject of the ex officio oath, which the court required him to take, and wliich he refused, as requiring him to swear indefinitely that he would answer any and every thing demanded of him. On his refusal he was remanded to prison, where he and his fellow prisoners for conscience sake remained two years without any further process, or being admitted to bail. The king of Scotland, wlio had so high an opinion of Cartwright, that, in 1580, he invited him to accept a professorship in the university of Si Andrews, applied to Elizabeth in vain on behalf of Mr Cartwright and his brethren : there was no relenting. After various applications for release on bail, the sufferers were in- duced to unite in a petition to the fountain-head of ecclesiastical power — the archbishop Whitgift. To this petition he replied, that if they would renounce their sentiments and their assemblies as unlawful and seditious, they might expect his compliance. Turning with despair from this insult, they resolved to petition the queen. What reception this petition met with is not shown, nor when the petitioners obtained tiieir release ; but it is understood not to have been soon. However, at length, on a promise to be quiet, the archbishop consented that they should be discharged — though on this condition that, in default of their amendment, they should appear again upon twenty days warning being given. ^ In 1592, soon after Cartwright's release, Dr Cosin, dean of the arches, and official principal to Archbishop Whitgift, wrote a book against Hacket, Coppinger, and Arthington, the design of which was to bring odium on the puritans for the wild fanaticism of those persons ; and especially to represent Cartwright as privy to designs of sedition and treason. Happily for him, there was no shadow of a proof for this vile insinuation. On his return to Warwick, Mr Cartwright resumed his pastoral and other ministerial duties with great earnestness, so as to draw down upon him further dislike from the ecclesiastical powers. At length, being silenced by the bishops, he was requested by the Lord Zouch, governor of Guernsey, to go with him to that island, where he continued at least till 1596. Attempts have been made to show that, after all, Cartwright re pented of his puritan principles in his old age, and that he confessed himself guilty of the sin of schism : of this there is no probable proof. His age and infirmities naturally withdrew him from the scene of po- lemical strife, and disposed him to prepare more assiduously for his de- parture hence. It is said, that at the close of life he possessed wealth — the reward of his privations and sufferings. We may admit the truth of such statement without allowing the imputation of guilt : vhatever he possessed, he was not avaricious, for we are told that it was his I. 4 X 714 LITERARY SERIES. PFourth custom " on the Sabbath to distribute money to the poor of the town of Warwick, beside what he gaTe to the prisoners." He continued his assiduity in his studies even in old age. He usually rose at two, three, and at the latest four o'clock in the morning, sum- mer and winter, notwithstanding that his infirmities compelled him to study continually on his knees. Nor would he intermit his ministerial labours, but persisted to preach, when many times he could scarcely creep into the pulpit. He died on the 27th of December, 1693, aged sixty-eight. To conclude in the words of Fuller concerning this distin- guished man : — " His life may be presumed most pious ; it concerning liim to be strict in his conversation, who so stickled for the reformation of all abuses in the church. An excellent scholar ; pure Latinist ; his travels advantaging the ready use thereof; accurate Grecian ; exaxjt Hebrician, as his comments on the Proverbs and other works do suffi- ciently testify." Beside those already mentioned, Cartwright wrote several works which were published after his death : viz. ' Metaphrasis et Homiliae in librum Solomonis qui inscribitur Ecclesiastes,' 1604, 4to. ' Commen- tary on the Epistle to the Colossians,' 1612, 4to. ' A Body of Divinity,' 1616, 4to. ' Commentaria Practica in totam Historiam Evangelicam, ex quatuor Evangelistis harmonice concinnatam,' 1630, 4to. Et idem, sub. tit. ' Harmonia Evangelica Commentario,' Sec. 1647. ' Com- mentarii succincti et dilucidi in Proverbia SalomonLs,' 1638, 4to. ' Di rectory of Church Government,' 1644, 4to. * III. — LITERARY SERIES. BORN A D. 1442 DIED A. D. 1319. William Gkocyn, one of the earliest restorers of learning in Eng- land, was born at Bristol in 1442, and educated in the grammar school of Winchester. He was elected thence to New college, Oxford, in 1467, and, in 1479, was presented by the warden and fellows to one of their rectories in Buckinghamshire. He still continued to reside at Oxford, however, and was appointed divinity reader by the society of Magda- lene college, in which ca])acity he was honoured to hold a public dispu- tation before Richard III., on the occasion of that prince visiting Oxford. In 1485 he was presented to a prebendal stall in Lincoln cathedral ; and, three years afterwards, he set out on foreign travel, ani- mated, it would seem, by the desire of acquiring knowledge, and espe- cially desirous of perfecting himself in the Greek languag*^, in which, though regarded as one of the best Greek and Latin scholars in Eng« land, he felt and regretted his deficiency. He was now forty-six years of age, yet he went in quest of learning with all the readiness and • See Memoirs of Cartwright, prefixed to Hanbury'.s edition of Hcoker's F.tvlesiiis- tjcal Poliiv, 3 vols, 8vo, 18-30. Period.] JOHN COLET. 715 buoyancy of youth, and, in company with several of li is country lucn, bi'came tlio pupil of Aujjelo Po itiaii, tiie most clopaut Latiiiist of his day, and of Demetrius Chalcoudylas, one of those learned men who had (led from Constantinople when it w.is taken by the Turks. To the pre- lections of these two excellent instructors he tlevoted two years, and then returned to Oxford, where he commenced teaching the Greek language, and was the first who introduced tlie new pronunciation of it. While he was thus engaged, the celebrated Erasnms visited Oxford, and be- came one of Grocyn's pupils. The foreign scholar was in straitened pircumstanees, but the professor, though not rich himself, kindly took him into his house, and supplied his wants from his own Inuited means. Enusmus was not ungrateful, and took every opportunity whicli subse- (juently offered itself of extolling the learning and hospitality of his friend. Grocyn's favourite classic was Aristotle ; and he had formed a design, in conjunction with his friends, Latimer and Linacre, of translating the whole works of that pliilosopher, but they did not pursue it. Wlien Colet, dean of St Paul's, introduced the practice of prelecting on a portion of the Scriptures in his cathedral, he engaged Grocyn to perform that duty, as the fittest for the task in England. While thus engaged, Grocyn commenced a series of lectures on the book of Dionysius, called ' Hie- rarchia Ecclesiastica,' and took occasion to preftice his course, by de- claiming, with great warmth, against all tho^e who denied or doubted the autliority of that work ; bur, after he had continued to read a few weeks he began to doubt the authenticity of that work himself, and, having finally convinced himself that it was spurious, he openly and frankfy confessed that he had been in error, and recalled his former opinion. He died at Maidstone, in 1519, of a paralytic affection, which had made him outlive his faculties. A Latin epistle of his to Aldus Manutius is prefixed to Linacre's translation of ' Proclus de Sphaera.' Bale, Leland, and Tanner mention some other pieces of his, but they are few. Erasmus says he was of so refined a taste, that he never couKI siatisfy himself with any thing which he wrote, and was not easily per- Miaded to handle his pen. Sojn €o\tt UUR.N' A. D. 1466. DlhJU A. D 1519. This learned English divine was the first born of the eleven sons and eleven daughters of Sir Henry Colet, mayor of London. He was born in 1466, and received the rudiments of education in London. In 1483 he was entered of Magdalene college, Oxford, and spent seven years at the university, chiefly in the study of logic and philosophy. Greek was not cultivated at Oxford while Colet resided there, and the proverb, ' Cave a Graecis, ne fias haereticus,' was still current at that seat of learn- ing, for Linacre, Grocyn, Erasmus, and their associates had not yet broken ground against the Trojans, as the opponents of Greek learning quaintly called themselves ; but Colet continued to make himself ac- quainted with some of the Greek writers, by means of a Latin transla- tion, and subsequently obtained such instruction, during four years of foreign travel, as enabled him to master the originals themselves. ColeJ W LITEKARY SERIES. [Folkti. appears to have remained on the continent from 1493 to 1497. In Paris he became acquainted with Budaens, Erasmus, Politian, and seve- ral of the leading scholars of the age, m whose society he perfected his acquaintance with the classics, and improved himself greatly in the belles lettres of the age. On his return to England, he spent some time at court, and narrowly escaped giving himself up to the attractions and dissipations of fashionable life ; for, to the qualifications of a scholar, he added the habits and accomplishments of a gentleman, and his natural disposition was by no means favourable to the life of a recluse and a scho- lar. At last he tore himself from the gaieties of the capital, and, retir- ing to Oxford, betook himself to a life of close study and application. While in Italy, he had applied himself to the study of theology, and iiad carefully perused the New Testament in the original ; he had also made himself acquainted with the writings of the fathers, particularly those of Origen, Cyprian, Ambrose, and Jerome ; he was, therefore, n'ell qualified, according to the measure of the times, for prelecting on the Scriptures, and, having made choice of Paul's epistles for that purpose, he gave a course of public readings on them, which excited great attention, and drew crowds of scholars to Oxford. He continued these lectures three years, and in 1501 was admitted to proceed in divi- nity, or to the reading of the ' Sentences.' In 1504 he was created D.D., and, in May 1505, was instituted to the prebend of Mora, in St Paul's, London, and, immediately afterwards, appointed dean of that church. Of this last ofiice he discharged the duties with exemplary zeal, by introducing a more strict and regular discipline, by preaching in the cathedral every Sunday, and by procuring some of his learned fi-iends to read weekly lectures on divinity. These lectures roused a spirit of inquiry after the Scriptures, and tended greatly to prepare men's minds for the refoi'mation which was soon to follow. The dean himself censured the ignorance and vices of his brother-clergy with great -bold- ness of speech, and might have suffered for his honesty had he not been protected by Archbishop Warham. The bitterness which his ene- mies manifested towards him, however, had the effect of inducing him to resolve on retiring from public life at an earlier age than called for such a step. With this view he had built a house for himself near Richmond palace, in Surrey. But having been twice attacked by the sweating sickness, and relapsing a third time, a consumption ensued, which ter- nnnated his life on the 16th of September, 1519. Several of Colet's writings are printed amongst the epistles of Eras- mus, and at the end of Knight's life of him. He was the author of the = Rudimenta Grammatices,' commonly called ' Paul's Accidence,' which was first published in 1539, in octavo ; also of a work entitled ' Absolu- tissimus de octu Orationis Partium constructione Libellus,' which form- ed the basis of Lilly's grammar, published at Antwerp in 1530. His preaching was plain and popular ; and he had imbibed some of the opi- nions which ultimately led to the reformation of religion in England. Erasmus, in an epistle to Jodocus Jonas, has described with some minuteness the habits and Qualities of his friend Colet. Pi:ri<)d.| THOMAS LINACRE, M.I) 717 railliam Hill). BOKN CIRC. A. D. 1468 UltiU A. D. 1523. This eminent English grammarian was born at Odiham, in Hamp- sJiire, about the year 1468. He was educated at Oxford, where he took the degree of B. A. Soon after leaving the university, he appears to have made a journey to Jerusalem, but whether he was influenced by religious motives in this undertaking or not, is now matter only of conjecture. Pits, Wood, and Tanner, say he was ; but their predeces- sor, and only authority on the point. Bale, gives no intimation of such uiotives having existed on Lily's part. It is indeed most probable tliat, catching th(! dawning spirit of the times, our scholar took his journej' to tlie east for the purpose of acquiring some knowledge of the Greek language, the beauties of which were just beginning to make themselves known to western scholars. And this conjecture receives additional support from the fact, that he remained five years stationary in the island of Rliodes, where he enjoyed the company of many learned Greek refugees, who, after the taking of Constantinople, had found shelter here, under the gallant and hospitable protection of the knights of St John. From Rhodes, Lily went to Rome, where he enjoyed the instruc- tions of Joannes Sulpitius and Pomponius Sabinus, two of the most ac- complished scholars of their day. He returned to England in 1509, soon after which date he appears to have settled in London, and open- ed a private grammar-school in that city. His success and reputation soon gained for him the mastership of Dean Colet's sciiool. In this laborious, but useful and honourable employment, he spent the remain- der of his life, until cut off by the plague, in 15-23. We have the au- tiiority of Erasmus for regarding Lily as not only one of the best scholars, but one of the most skilful pedagogues of his day. Many of his scholars attained to high eminence in public life, and still more were distinguished for their superior literary attainments. He had a principal hand in the compilation of the ' Brevissiraa insti- tutio, seu Ratio granimatices cognoscendi,' first published in London, in 1513, and still used under the name of ' Lily's Grammar.' In con- junction with his accomplished friend, Sir Thomas More, he translated several Greek epigrams, wiiich were published at Basil, in 1518, under the title of ' Progymnasmata Thomae Mori et Gulielmi Lilii, sodalium.' Among his other pieces, are, ' Poemata varia,' sundry ' Apologia ; ' and a treatise, ' De laudibus Dei-pari Virginis.' Lily's two sons, George and Peter, were both good scholars, and obtained ecclesiastical prefer- ments ; but neither of them enjoyed his father's reputation. BORN CIRC. A. D. 1460. DIED A. D. 1524. Tffis learned physician was born about the year 1460, at Canter- bury. His education was begun at the King's school in that city, 718 LITERAKY SERIES. TFo-^ite where his teacher was William Sellings, a man of great learning. He went very soon to Oxford, where he was elected fellow of All Souls college. His former master, Sellings, being sent on an em- bassy to the court of Rome by Henry VH., Linacre accompanied him for the sake of further improvement. He remained for some time at Florence, where he had the good fortune to be patronized by the cele- brated Lorenzo de Medici, at that time one of the best-informed men of bis age, and the greatest patron of literature. Angelo Politiano, who instructed the children of the duke, was commanded by the latter to admit Linacre to his lessons ; under which circumstances the young student acquired a thorough acquaintance witli the Latin language, so that he was even said to excel his master in elegance and correctness of style. His Greek master was Demetrius Chalcondylas. Printing was but a recent invention, and its first appearance in Italy did not take place till 1465. There can be little doubt that the edition of Homer, afterwards published by Demetrius Chalconflylas, was in pro- gress at the time when Linacre enjoyed the benefit of the instruc- tions of that learned man. Having acquii'ed much classical knowledge, Linacre now left the court of Lorenzo, and went to study natural philo- sophy and medicine in Rome, under Hermolaus Barbarus. He made himself master of the writings of Aristotle and Galen, graduated at Padua, and returned to England. He now received the degree of M.D. from the university of Oxford, and began the practice of medi- cine in that city. He was soon made public professor of medicine, and gave lectures that summer : at the same time teaching the Greek language, as a private teacher connected with the university, there be- ing at that time no regular professor of Greek. The reputation of Linacre increased rapidly, and he was not allowed to remain long in Oxford. Henry VIL having heard of his learning and medical talents, called him to court, and appointed him physician and preceptor to Prince Arthur. It is also said that he superintended the studies of the Princess Catharine of Spain, especially in the Italian language. When Henry VIII. came to the throne, Linacre was at once at the head of the medical profession and of general literature in England. To him must be given much of the honour of having excited in his own country that spirit of learning which prevailed in his time. Nor was he wanting in attention to the cultivation of his own profession. In Ox- ford he founded two lectures on medicine, in connection with Merton college ; and in Cambridge one, in St John's college. When Linacre commenced practice in England, the medical profession did not hold that respectable rank which it has since done. This depended entirely upon the character of the professors of it, who were chiefly monks and empirics, and upon the nature of those qualifications which procured a license to practise. In those days there was neither a college of phy- sicians nor a college of surgeons, the membei-s of which being of ap- proved skill and learning, could take upon themselves the task of inquiring into the qualifications of those who proposed to practise the art. This task deferred upon the bishops, whose qualifications for it we may well suppose to have been of a very low order. While the practice of physic was engrossed by illiterate monks and empirics, the consequence was as already stated : it was reserved for Linacre to sug- gest a plan for remedying the evil. The foundation of the Royal fERioD.J THOMAS LINACRE, M.D. 719 college of Physicians in London, in 1518, was the result, of his influ- ence with Cardinal Wolscy, and he had the houour of first sitting in the president's chair of tiiat learned body. A few years before his death, Linacre resigned his profession, and de- voted himself to divinity. Having taken orders, he wa-s first made rec- tor of Marsham, in October, 1509. This he soon resigned, and ac- cepted a prebend in the diocese of Wells, and afterwards, in 1518, in that of York. He held also a chantership in the cathedral of York, which he soon resigned. It does not seem to l)e well ascertained what other preferments he had. Dr Knight says that he was a prebendary of St Stephens, in Westminster ; Bishop Tanner mentions, that he held tlie rectory of Wigan, in Lancashire. It is difficult to divine the motives which led him to a choice of this profession at that period of life, and as much so to ascertain the causes of the frequent changes which he made. No one seems to suspect him of the desire of gain, for the nature of his preferments sufficiently prevent such a charge. He suffered, about this time, from the stone, of which he afterwards died, at the age of 64, on the 21st of October, 1524. He was buried in St Paul's cathedral, where a monument was erected to his memoiy in 1557, with an inscription by Dr Caius. The character of Linacre appears to be extremely worthy of admiration. Dr Caius, who suc- ceeded him in his professional honours, describes him as a faithful friend, valued and beloved by all ranks of men, with an utter detestation of any tiling trickish or dishonourable. His excellent good sense has been demonstrated by the active part he took in founding the college of physicians, at that time a verj' necessary institution. It may per- haps be doubted whether the constitution of that body be adaj)ted to the circumstances of the present age; but its utility cannot be denied, especially in reference to the general principle on which it was found- ed. He was decidedly the most learned physician of his day, and even out of his own profession he held a high rank among men of science and learning. In conjunction with Colet, Lily, Grocyn, and Latimer, all of whom got their knowledge of the Greek tongue abroad, Linacre was one of the first to revive the learning of the ancients in his native country. His Latin style was, in the highest degree, elegant and ac- curate, so much so that his friend, Erasmus, thought it too elabo- rate. He translated into most elegant Latin several of the works of Galen. Two copies of this work, originally presented to Henry VIII. and Cardinal Wolsey, printed on vellum, are preserved in the Britisli museum. He published a translation of ' Proclus de Sphaira,' in Latin, at Venice, 1499 and 1500. This was dedicated to his pupil, Prince Arthur. He also wrote, for the use of the Princess Mary, a treatise on the rudiments of grammar, afterwards published by Bucnanan, in a Latin form, at Paris, in 1533. His treatise, ' De emendata struc- tura Latini sermonis,' first printed at London in 1524, according to Dr Knight, has always been held in the highest estimation as a classi- cal production. ■20 LITERARY SERIES. [EOTTRIH Jojn ^ktlton. HORN CTRC. A. D. 1461. DIED A. D. 1599. We have the liigh authority of Erasmus for regarding this singular man as one of the ' lights and ornaments of English scholarship ' in hid day. He was laureated at Oxford, and must have given substantial proofs of proficiency in classical learning before he was chosen to su- perintend the studies of Henry VHI. On the accession of that monarch, Skelton was created orator-royal, but his ecclesiastical preferments seem to have been limited to the rectory of Diss, in Norfolk. His pro- pensity to low and scurrilous satire, and the irregularities of his life, were insurmountable obstacles to clerical preferment, and he is even said to have been suspended by the bishop of Norwich, for his unseem- ly buffooneries in the pulpit. Perhaps he relied on his supposed in- fluence with the king, to protect him against the consequences of these incessant invectives against some of the most potent characters of the day, in which it was his delight to indulge. Cardinal Wolsey and the catholics were the favourite objects of his coarse but pungent invective. The cardinal was at last roused to resentment and despatched his offi- cers to arrest the daring satirist, but Skelton sought protection in the sanctuary of Westminster, where he was received by Abbot Islip, and sheltered till his death, which took place in 1529. Skelton's style is supposed, by Warton, to be an imitation of the Macaronic poetry first brought into fashion by Teofilo Folengo, a Benedictine monk of Casino. It is quite as vulgar, though not so bizarre, a-s that wretched burlesque of poetry. The subject of the following lines is the illustrious Sir Thomas More But now we have a knight That is a man of might All armed for to fight. To put the truth to flight B)' Bow-bell policy ; With his poetry. And his sophistry, To mock and make a lie, With " quod he, and quod I,' And his apology Made for the prelacy; Their hugy pomp and pride To colour and to hide. He maketh no nobbes, But with his dialogues To prove our prelates gods And laymen very lobbes. And with their own rods. Thus he taketh pain To fable and to feign. Their mischief to maintain. And to have them reign Over hill and plain ; Yea, over heaven and hell. And where as spirits dwell, In purgatory's holes. With hot fire and coals. To sing for silly souls. With a supplication, And a confutation Without replication, Having delectation To make exclamation, In his debellation With a popish fashion, To subvert our nation ! &c. &c. As Skelton's poems are in few hands, we shall cite another specimiin, written in a gentler mood: TO MISTRESS MARGARET HUSSEY. Merry Margaret Or hawk of the tower, As midsummer flower, With solace and gladness, Gentle as falcon, Much mirth and no madness. Pekioi).] LORD BERNERS. 721 All good, and no biitlness ; Su joyously. So inaiiluiily, .So womanly, Her deiiieaiiiiig 111 every thing, Far, Tar passing 'i'liat I can indite, Or siiliice to ^^rite, Of ineri-y Margaret, As niiiisummer tlower, Gentle as lalcoii. Or hawk of the tower ; As ]iatieiit and as still, And as full of good will As fair Isiphil, Coliander, Sweet Pomander, Good Cas-ander; Stedfast of thought, Well made, well wrougiit, P'ar may be sought Erst }0u can find So courteous, so kind, As merry Marf;aret, This midsummer flower, Gentle as falcon. Or hawk of the tower. BOKN CIKC. A. U. 1469 DIED A. D. 1532. This distinguished translator of the admirable Froissart, was the grandson and heir of Sir John Bourchier, Lord Berners, Knight of the Garter, and constable of Windsor castle, in the reign of Edward the Fourth. As near as can be determined, he was born about the year 1469, and after finishing his education at Oxford, he proceeded to the continent, where he spent several years, but returned with suificient reputation to obtain the honour of knighthood at the marriage of the duke of York. The insurrection which took place hi Cornwall in 1497, luider Michael Joseph, the tarrier of Bodmin, atfbrded him an oppor- tunity of proving his loyalty, and the conduct he displayed on that occasion obtained him the permanent favour of his sovereign. A field more agreeable, however, to his chivalrous character was opened to him In the war which Henry the Eighth, soon after his accession, commenced with France. At the siege of Terouentie — an undertaking as useless to the monarch, as it was fruitful in examples of individual heroism — Lord Berners acted as captain of the pioneers. For the merit he displayed in this and other instances, he was signally rewarded by the monarch, and received an appointment to the office of chancellor of the exche- quer for life. Hemy rendered him other marks of respect and attach- ment. When the princess Mar}' was sent to France to be married to Louis the Twelfth, Lord Berners occupied a chief place in her train, and not long after was appointed to the important post of governor oi Calais. It has been remarked by Walpole, that he enjoyed the rare felicity of retaining Henry's favour during the space of eighteen years, that is, from the accession of the monarch till he died. This event happened while he was still governor of Calais, in the year 1532, antl in the sixty-third of his age. Lord Berners rendered an important service to English literature by his translation of Froissart, — an undertaking to which he was incited by the jitdicious advide of Henry VIII. The rich and varied narrative of the chronicler 'was well-adapted to improve as well as delight the readers of the period, when he made it known in our language. It was the finest example of modern history, — the noblest specimen of the genuine historic style of narrative employed to delineate passing events, — that had been produced since the revival of learning, and it could I. 4 Y LITEKARY SERIES. [Fouktu scarcely become popular in the nation without giving rise to a consider- able improvement in the taste of both readers and authors. Besides this translation, Lord Berners also gave to his countrymen versions of the History of King Arthur, and of the Life of Marcus Aurelius from the French ; and of the Castle of Love from the Spanish. To these, may be added the address which he wrote on the Duties of the Inha- bitants of Calais ; an Account of the Exploits of Sir Hugh of Bourdeaux, and a comedy, entitled, 'Ite in Vineam,' which, it is reported, was usually acted in the great church of Calais after vespers, according to a custom then prevalent in England as well as on the continent. BOKN A. D. 1303. DIED A. D. l.J-i2. Sir Thomas Wyatt, descended ft-om an ancient and illustrious family, was born in 1503, at AUington castle in Kent. After com- pleting his education at St John's college, Cambridge,' he obtained a place at court, where his noble person, his polished manners, his skill in feats of arms, and more than all, his commanding talents, fortified by deep learning, and adorned by brilliant wit, soon raised him to a con- spicuous elevation, and procured for him the favour and esteem of Henry the Eighth in no stinted measure. His poetic powers early developed themselves in sonnets and odes addressed to the court-beauties, but especially to the unfortunate Anne Boleyn, for whom, both before and after her marriage, he seems — if we may rely on the somewhat doubtful testimony of his poems — to have entertained a warm affection. Though it must have been difficult for any man to gaze unmoved on the attrac- tions of so lovely a being as Anne, and for any woman to receive with indiiFerence the adulation of so gallant and accomplished a cavalier as Wyatt, yet their intercourse cannot have involved any ardent passion, since Wyatt had been married at a very early age to a daughter of Lord Cobham, and his grave religious cast of mind, and irreproachable character, suffice to vindicate him from any charge of criminal feelings, and to warrant the conclusion that his affection for Anne was nothing more than one of the many Platonic attachments which were generated and fostered by the fantastic spirit of the age. He is said to have been greatly instrumental in furthering the Reformation by his private influence over the king's mind, and by the singular wit and subtlety with v/hich he insinuated the readiest means of effecting that mighty change. His abilities were not allowed to waste themselves on the idle fop})eries of a court. In 1537 he was sent as ambassador to conduct a very delicate and intricate negotiation with the emperor of Spain, and althougJi trammelled by the caprice of Henry, the insincerity of the Spanish court, and more than all by the jealousy or folly of Bonner and others, who were subsequently appointed his colleagues, he discharged the arduous duties of his office with a skill and boldness which obtained for ' Antony Wood says that Wyatt after studying at Cambridge went to Oxford, but there does not seem to be any biitter authority for this tlian honest Antony's anxiety to trace all eminent men to Uie banks of tiie Isis. Period.] SIR THOMAS WYATT THE ELDER. 723 him the warm and repeated thanks of his sovereign. The chicaneiy of diplomacy, however, soon disgusted Wyatt's open and manly mind. In liis letters to the king and to Cromwell, he made Iroquent and earne.st applications for a recal, but so valuable were his services deemerl, that his wishes were not coinpli(>d with until 1539, and scarcely had lie uitluh-awn to his magnilicent seat on the banks of the Mcdway, there to indulge in tlie pleasant labours of a literary retirement, when he was again sunnnoned to the ungrateful task of watching the intrigues of the Sjianish court. Distasteful as was the employment, he fulfilled the trust reposed in him ably and well, until Henry, though with great reluctance, assented to his entreaties for a recal. New trouliles awaited him on his return to England. On the downfall of Cromwell — to whose party he had steadily clung — Wyatt was thrown into prison, on the ground of some obselete charges brought against him by the notorious Bonner, who had now gained the ascendancy, and with the petty malice of his grovelling mind, felt well-disposed to use his power for the destruction of one, before wliose intellectual superiority he had cringed into his native nothingness. After a long and severe imprisonment, Wyatt was brought to trial in June 1541. The accusation brought against him was that of treachery to the king's interests in his embas- sies to Spain, and as he was not allowed either counsel or the right of cross-examining the witnesses, his defence was limited to a single oration. This oration is still extant, and considering the circumstances in which 't M'as made, deserves to rank with our best specimens of judicial plead- ing. After proving his own innocence, he proceeded in a strain of the most lacerating sarcasm to analyse Bonner's character and motives, and in so clear a light did he represent the com])assionable stupidity, and atrocious malice of his accuser, that the jury brought in a verdict of acquittal. Being thus delivered from his enemies, Wyatt retired to AUington castle, 'among the muses, there to read and rh^fnie,' and soon became the centre of attraction to much of the learning and talents of the country. Mason, Poynet, the learned Leland, and the illus- trious Surrey, were his frequent visitors and constant friends. What effects the fruits of Wyatt's leisure, and of the association of so many eminent men might have produced on the literary character of the age, had they not been nipped in the bud, it is impossible with certainty to determine. The experiment was not tried. This ornament of his country, as Leland terms him, was carried off by a malignant fever in the autunm of 1542, in the 39th year of his age. The number o) epitaphs written on him, and the unbounded praise of his virtues which they contain, show the high estimation in which he was held by his contemporaries. Leland's Na^nia, and Surrey's plaintive strains, would have immortalized him, even had his works perished witii him. To Wyatt's merits as a poet the highest praise that can be given is, that he was Surrey's coadjutor in reforming English poetry. He is superior to his illustrious friend in masculine power, in depth of reflec- tion, and in learning ; but he wants the graceful fancy, the easy flow, the melancholy sweetness, and above all, the exquisite good taste Avhich characterise ''Surrey's deathless lay.' Many of his poems are written rhythmically, and still more are prosaic in their conception. Thej are indeed generally Set high in spirit with the precious taste Of sweet philosophy, but they are frequently deficient in 'Poetry's peculiar food, sacred invention.' His contemporaries regarded the paraphrase of the seven penitential psalms as the work which would have handed down his name to posterity. Surrey asks in one of his most beautiful poems, What holy grave, what worthy sepulture, For Wyutt's psalms shall Christians then purchase? [n spite of this commendation, posterity seems to have assigned oblivion as their sepulture, and without injustice. Decidedly the best of his poetical performances is the second satire, which, in addition to the noble sentiments of an exalted and lettered mind, displays a more flowing rhythm and purer poetic diction, than he usually employs.^ It is much to^ be lamented that he has left us so few prose compositions. The oration already mentioned, and his letters to the king and to Cromwell on the business of his embassies, were by much the finest prose our language had yet produced. They display here and there an easy fluency, a happiness of expression, a polished keenness of sarcasm, and a nervous eloquence worthy of a more advanced age of literature; nor can we omit to mention his two noble letters to his son, which, as indications of a spirit animated throughout by a sublime morality, and illumined by the purest light of philosophy, we scruple not to compare with any similar compositions in the language. He was, in short, a man of deep learning,^ ' in that rude age when know- ledge was not rife ;' and this learning was applied to use by a mind which united, in no ordinary degree, playful wit and acute shrewdness, with masculine grasp of intellect and profound reflection. Kis works are generally printed along with those of Surrey. BORN A. D. 1516. — DIED A. D. I54-7. The history of few would afford richer topics for the pen of the bi ographer than this nobleman, were it not that the age in which he lived, instead of handing down to us a faithful record of his life and actions, has transmitted little more than a fanciful romance, with which we long contented ourselves, though, when the dream passed away before the penetrating light of examination, we found, like the Arabian castle- builder with his basket of glass, that not only had these airy fictions vanished, but that the less showy, though more substantial reality, was also lost. There are still, however, some few traces of the man ; and, which is of more importance, ' his works live after him.' He was the oldest son of the third duke of Norfolk, and was born in 1516, or 1518, at Kenninghall in Norfolkshire. We have no ac- count of his boyish years on which reliance can be placed, but the known anxiety of the Howard family to procure able instructors for their children, and the literary eminence of many of his relations,' ' Camden calls him 'splendide doctus.' ' Parker, Liord IMorley, Lord Berners, the well-known translator of Froissart, and Edward Vere, earJ of Oxford, a considerable contributor to the ' Paradise of Dainty Devices,' weie among his relations. His father too was a man of letters, and from a poem of Skellon's it appears that his mother honoured the ' priests of the muses.' Period.] HOWARD, EARL OP SURREY. 725 givo us ample assurancp tliat lu> was supplied with every aid and in- centive to the studj' of letters, and his writinc^s show that they were not supplied in vain. His education was ])robahly completed in If):!! or 1532, for in one of these years he was alHanced, and soon aflerwanls married to the Lutly Frances Vere, daughter to the earl of Oxford. In 1532, as we are informed by Holinshed, Surrey was one of those who attended Henry the Eighth into France, to the ' Field of the Cloth of Gold.' After witnessing this gorgeous spectacle, he is said to have accompanied his young friend, the duke of Richmond, a natural son of the king, to study in the university of Paris ; but if he went there at all, his stay must have been short, as we find him, in the connuence- nient of the ensuing year, bearing apart in the coronation of his cousin, Anne Boleyn. It is not a little striking, that one of the next notices of his life we meet with, is that he sat, in 1536, as earl-marshal, in his father's stead, at the trial and condemnation of this unliappy queen, whose elevation to the highest of earthly dignities, in all the pride of beauty and power, he had witnessed so shortly before. The lesson was instructive and ominous. His eldest son, Thomas, afterwards duke of Norfolk, was born in this year. It is a curious proof of the power of superstition in that age over the wisest and best-educated, that Surrey had his son's nativity east. If we may rely on the account given in the Ashmole MSS., the prophecy coincided most singularly with the event, since it predicted to the child a life of sorrow and misfortune, and to the father an untimely death. It is in the following year, 1537, that Surrey's romantic tour through Italy is said to have been made. The current account of this adventure is, that Surrey, being smitten with love of the Lady Ger- aldine, went on a knight-errant expedition to maintain her beauty in the principal cities of Italy, but especially in Florence, where he was proclaimed victor at a tournament held in her honour, and where, too, lie met with Cornelius Agrippa, who showed him the Lady Geraldine in a magic mirror. The lovers of the marvellous will not be ready to believe, that the whole of this wild story is founded on an extiavagant romance of Nash's, entitled the ' History of Jack Wilton,' in which, among other edifying scenes, Cornelius Agrippa, at the request of Erasnuis, summons up the ghost of Cicero, which ])ronounces the lloscian oration before the doctors and scholars, among whom was Luther of the university of Wittenberg. Drayton took hold of this story as the foundation for one of ' England's heroical epistles,' and from him it was copied with even more than his usual simplicity, by Anthony Wood. But had the tale a better foundation than Nash's ro- mance, it could be easiU-^ disproved otherwise: for not to mention the extreme improbability of Surrey's having ever visited Italy — of vhich we have no mention in his writings — there is indisputable evidence of his having been in England during the years 1636 — 37 — 88, and more- over the Lady Geraldine, in whose honour these feats of arms are said to have been performed, was at this ])eriod not more than ten or eleven years of age. To this it may be added, as decisive of the point at issue, though no one has hitherto noticed it in confuting this absurd fiction, that not a single line in any of the jioems Surre\- addressed to Geral- dine, mentions his having tilted in her honour, or visited foreign lands to celebrate her beauty. There was, however, some slight foundation 726 LITERimY SERIES. [Fourth for this story in the attachment Surrey unquestionably bore to Geral- dine. This lady, the English Laura, was a daughter of the earl of Kildare, and is said to have been the greatest beauty of her time. That she was no mean adept in coquetry, appears from her lover's po- ems,2 a,^(] g^ cruel did she at length become, that he renounced all affection for her, ' who had alway been cause of his misease,' and plunging into public life, soon forgot his tormentress. It has been deemed a stain on Surrey's reputation, that he Avas at the period of this attachment a married man ; but when it is remembered that he was living in perfect harmony with his wife, and always sustained a high moral character, it will not be difficult to reconcile the warmth of affec- tion portrayed in his poems with a mere Platonic attachment, — a spe- cies of romantic gallantry peculiarly suited to his speculative mind, and no ways uncommon in that singular age, v.'hen the spirit of chiv- alry, as yet unbroken, though purified and exalted by learning, com- bined with the vigour of fancy peculiar to the dawn of a national liter- ature, to produce those wide variations from ordinary habits and char-i acters which afforded such ample materials to the dramatists of the ensuing age. From this period, the events of Surrey's life are better ascertained. In 1540 he was the foremost of the defendants at a tournament given by Henry in honour of his marriage with the Lady Anne of Cleves, and acquitted himself with marked distinction. At the close of this year he was sent into France to examine the state of the defences within the English pale, a charge which he executed, we are told, " entirely to the king's satisfaction." In the autumn of the following j'ear he was made steward of the university of Cambridge, and not long after, a knight of the garter. In 1543 he went as a volunteer in the arma- ment sent against France, under the command of Sir Jolm Wallop, and by his conduct gained so much reputation, that, in 1544, he was appointed marshal of the army at the head of which Henry invaded France in person. While the king and one part of the army laid siege to Boulogne, Norfolk and Surrey with the remaining forces encamped before Montreuil, but, being ill supplied with provisions and ammuni- tion, in consequence, it is said, of the intrigues of the earl of Hert- ford, the ruling favourite, who looked with a jealous eye on the power of the Howards, they failed in their efforts to reduce the place, though all was done that skill could devise or valour accomplish. Surrey ably seconded his father, distinguishing himself repeatedly by his chivalrous courage, and on one occasion was dangerously wounded in a daring attempt to take the town by storm. On the approach of the dauphin, they were compelled to raise the siege, and returned in unmeiited dis- grace to England. It is probable that from this period we are to date Henry's dislike to the Howards, though it was not manifested at the time, since Surrey, in 1545, was appointed to the command of Bou- logne, then the most important station in our French dominions. Dur- ing the short period of his command, he displayed so much courage, energy, and military skill, as to gain Iiira the reputation of being one of the most distinguished soldiers of the day. He several times, with inferior forces, signally defeated the French ; but being slightly worsted ' Vifle the conclusion of that commencing, * Wrapt in my careless cloiik, as I walk U) and fro.' Period.] HOWARD, EARL OF SURREY. 727 on one occasion, he was recalled in April, 1546, by his capricious so- vereign. He was coniinitted to tiie Tower soon after his return, in consequence of Iiis liaving uttered some vague threats against the all- powerful favourite, the earl of IIertU)rd, to whom, probably with jus- tice, he ascribed his undeserved disgrace. His confinement cannot have been of long duration, for in the following October he took part in the magnificent recejition given to tlie French ambassador when he came over to negotiate a peace. This was the closing scene of Sur- rey's prosperity. On the ensuing 12th of December he was committed to tiie Tower, at the instigation, in all probability, of the earl of Hertford, who, as the king evidently drew near his end, was anxious to secure to himself the possession of the protectorate after Henry's death, and saw a dangerous obstacle in the power of the Howard fam- ily. The charges brought against him were the most inane and trivial on which a man's life was ever sworn away, amounting to nothing more than that he had quartered with his own the arms of Edward the Con- fessor, and therefore, it was argued, aspired to the crovvn.^ On his trial, Surrey showed that he had the authority of the herald's college for wearing these arms, and that he had frequently worn them without re- primand in the presence of Henry himself. We have little or no ac- count of the trial, or of Surrey's behaviour during it, save the general statement of Lord Herbert, — that "the earl, as he was a man of a deep und(!rstanding, sharp wit, and deep courage, defended himself man}' ways ; sometimes denying their accusations as false, and together weakening the credit of his adversaries ; sometimes interpreting the words he said in a far other sense than they were represented." * In spite of the palpable absurdity of the charges, the jury were base enough to find him guilty of high treason, in compliance with the known wish of the court ; and the chancellor, Wriotheseley, pronounced on him sentence of death. He was, in consequence, beheaded on Tower Hill, on the 19th of Januar}', 1547, in the thirtieth year of his age. In a very few days after, he was followed to the tonib by the ferocious bigot and merciless sensualist whose tyranny had consigned to an early grave tlie most gallant and accomplished gentleman of the age. Time, whicli is the parent of truth, in no way more shows its power, than in the silent speed with which it reduces to their inherent nothing- ness the accidental splendours of external greatness. The earl of Surrey, though descended from England's proudest and most powerful peers, and possessed of every honour which wealth, title, or royal favour could heap upon him, would now be immortal only in genealogical charts, or in the records of the Herald's college, were it not that nature and study had endowed him with a genius which needed no fortuitous advantages to win a lasting renown. The high-born earl, — the successful solilier, — the all-accomplished courtier, — are forgotten, and men remember ' tiie gentle Surrey' only as a poet. His poems are formed on the model of Petrarch and Chaucer combined, and, though rarely soaring so high as their originals, are free from some of the faults of both. They are not characterised by much masculine power, sublimity of conception, or brilliancy of imagery ; the charm lies in their sweetness of thought, their ' Among the deponents ajainst liini, it is melanchol) to find his sister, the ducJiess of Richmond, the most prominent. * Lord Herbert's reign ol' Htnr)' VII 1, 728 LITERARY SERIES. [Eourtii graceful fancy, their happiness of expression, their exquisite good taste, and, above all, in their evidently emanating from nature and feeling. Nor is it their least merit, that, though written in a rude age, they con- tain not a single expression which could shock the nicest delicacy. When regarded in connection with the times in which they were pro- duced, they claim a much higher rank. Surrey was the great reformer of English poetry. Previous to his time all our poetry, even Chaucer's/ had been written rythraically, not metrically, and, by consequence, the language had been wrenched from its natural pronunciation to suit the difficulties of rythmical verse. Nor was this the worst feature. After Chaucer, a race of poets had sprung up, who, unable to cope with, or imitate tlieir great predecessor, attempted to eke out a beggarly meagre- ness of tliought and invention, by a high-sounding Thrasonical and pe- dantic phraseology, which ought to have secured them a whipping for o'er-doing Termagant. Surrey's fine mind perceived these faults, and his intimate acquaintance with the poets of ancient and modern Italy enabled him to apply the remedies. He reduced our poetry to metrical rules, tliereby establishing a true standard of pronunciation; and, dis- daining to interweave absurd Latinisms witli our native tongue, he re- sorted to the ' pure wells of English undefiled,' and gave us a poetic diction suited to metrical verse in our naturalized Saxon dialect. This, however, is not his only excellence. He introduced into our language blank verse. All writers agree, that his translation of the second and fourth books of the yEneid is the first specimen of this species of verse in our language. He saw, with the intuitive perception of a refined and cultivated mind, that, in the English tongue, rhyme trammelled subli- mity of thought, and the expression of deep and commanding passion, and he supplied the detect by introducing the metre which has since been hallowed by the more than mortal iniaginatioTi of Shakspeare, and the unmatched grandeur of Milton. Of Surrey's character, it is difficult to speak in too high terms of commendation. The very pride of ancestry, which in most men is folly, appeared in him a virtue, since it inspired him with the noble ambition of doing ' something, such that after ages should not willingly let it die.' Amiable in his family, — steady and ardent in his friendships, — endowed with more than the hereditary valour of the Howards, — steadfast in ad- hering to truth, — moral in a licentious age, — lofty, but not grasping, in his ambition, — learned in all the wisdom of the times, without being pe- dantic, — we may justly apply to him what Ford says of one of his heroes : — One so young and goodly, So sweet in his nature, any story Hath seldom mentioned. Surrey's works were frequently reprinted in the reign of Elizabeth and James, but of late years they have been in a great measure forgotten. The more modern editions are, — ' Poems of Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey, and Sir Thomas Wyatt; London, 1717, 8vo.; with a preface by Dr Jewel.' This is in almost every i-espect an execrable edition. ' The Works of Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey, and Sir Thomas Wyatt the elder ; London, 1824, 2 vols. 4to. ; edited by G. F. Nott.' This is a ' Mr Tyrrwhit, in liis edition of Chaucer's Canterbury Tales, disputes this ; his rea- soning is ingenious, but, we apprehend, unsatisfactory. Peihou.I JOHN LELAND. 721* work of great research, and, in some respects, invaluable, tliouph the pot-ms are almost ovorwhi liiicil by a mass of notes, lives, diss(.'rtations, cippenilicos, c^c. ' Surrey and Wyatt's Poems, in Pickorint repent and pray ; They be of death the harbingers, That doth prepare and dress the -way ; Wherefore 1 joy that )ou may see Upon my head such hairs to be. They be the lives that lead the length, How far my race was for to run ; They say my youth is fled with strength. And how old age is well begun ; The which I feel, and you may see Such lives upon my head to be. They be the strings of sober sound, Whose music is harmonical ; Their tunes declare a time from ground I came, and how tliereto I shall ; Wherefore I love that you may see Upon my head such hairs to be. God grant to those that white hairs have. No worse them take than I have meant ; That after they be laid in grave, Tlieir souls fnay joy their lives well spent ! God grant believe that you may see Upon mj' head such hairs to be! DIED CIRC. A. D. 15G3. The progress of English dramatic literature affords a subject which merits the closest consideration : the historian and the philosopher are alike interested in its examination, and it may be regarded as furnish- ing one of the best indices that literature can alford, both of the man- ners and opinions of successive generations. It is this circumstance which has given some degree of importance to the name of John Heywood, who is generally allowed to have been the first writer of dramas, the subjects of which were not drawn from Scripture. As irlglit be expected, they exhibit all the rudeness of first attempts, while the want of genius in tlie author appears both in the insipidity of their plots, and the cold puerilities of the dialogue. The period of Heywood's birth is unknown, but he was a native of Worth-mines near Saint Alban's in Hertfordshire, and studied some time at Oxford. On his return from the university — where his love of frolic appears to have been an eti'ectual bar to his advancement in scholarship — he had the good fortune to acquire the notice of Sir Thomas More, whose resi- dence in the neighbourhood of Saint Alban's v/as the favourite resort of the wits of the day. Through Sir Thomas he became known to Henry VHI., and in a short time won the good opinion of the monarch, not only by his pleasantries, but by his great skill in music. At what time he began to write plays is not stated, but it is a curious fact, 'hat the first three on the list contain satires on the clergy, who, it will be recollected, were till now the chief masters of 4he drama. ' A pla^ between Johan the husband, Tyb the wife, and Sir Johan the priest, Pkuiod.] JOHN IIEYWOOD. 737 is the title of one : * A merry play between the Pardoner and the I'Voro, the Curate and Ncybour Pratte,' is that of another : while the third is named ' TIk; play called the four P's. a new and a very merry Interlude of a Palmer, a Pardoner, a Potyeary, a Pedlar.' It is not impossible but that Henry might have some share in instigating the wit to these sarcasms on that class of men whom he had so many rea- sons in the latter years of his reign to aim at humbling. His successor, different as he was in disposition to his father, continued to treat Hey- wood with regard ; but on the accession of Mary to the throne, he became not merely a favourite at court, but an attendant on the private iiours of her majesty, when the cares of royalty and her own melan- choly disposition involved her in the most gloomy reflections. He had possessed her countenance at an early period of his life, but siie was now in a situation to reward him highly for his devotion to her anmse- ment, and such was the pleasure she took in his humorous conversa- tion, that even in her last illness he frequently was admitted to her chand)er. Some specimens of his wit have been preserved, and the following is given by Puttenham in his Art of Poetry, but the story, it is [M'obable, loses something of its spirit in the telling : " Some speech" says Putteidiam, " may be when it is spoken, very undecent, yet the same having something added to it, may be more pretty and decent, as happened on a time at the duke of Northun\berland's board, where merry John Heywood was allowed to sit at the table's end. The duke had a very noble and honourable mind always to pay his debts well, and when he lacked money, would not stick to sell the greatest part of his plate : so he had done a few days before. Heywood being loath to call for his drink so oft as he was drj', turned his eye toward the cup- board, and said, ' I find great miss of your Grace's standing cups.' Tiie duke thinking he had spoken it of some knowledge that his plate was lately sold, said somewhat sharply, ' Why, sir, will not those cups serve as good a man as yourself?' Heywood readily replied, ' Yes, if it please your Grace ; but I would have one of them stand still at my elbow, full of drink, that I might not be driven to trouble your man so often to call for it.' This pleasant and speedy reverse of the former words holpe all the matter again ; whereupon the duke became very pleasant, and drank a bottle of wine to Heywood, and bid a cup should always be standing b}' him." The death of Queen Mary placed Heywood in a situation which seemed to him fraught with dangers. There is too much reason to fear that, bigotted as he is said to have been in his religion, he took as great a share as a wit and jester could take, in heaping odium on the perse- cuted protestants, and hardening the hearts of thtjir enemies againsi the appeals of mercy. With the dread natural to conscious injustice even in its meanest instruments, he immediately prepared to quit the country, and fled with his family to Mechlin in Brabant. How long he lived after his retreat to the continent is unknown, the date of his death, like that of his birth, having escaped the inquiries of his biogra- phers. A conjecture, however, has been formed that he lived to be old, from the circumstance, that he is known to have been still alive when one of his sons was thirty years of age. W^ith regard to his cha- racter as a man of letters, he can scarcely be said to have exercised any crreat influence on the literature of his day. That he wrotw play." 1. 5 a which were unconnected with the mysteries of religion is true ; but this was rather owing to his love of jest, and the readiness with which jests and sarcasms will be listened to in any form, than to his good taste, or a perception of tlie proper sphere of the drama. His productions were among the earliest results of that increasing good sense which pervaded the nation ; but they had not sufficient merit in themselves to be taken as examples, nor had the author sufficient vigour of mind or thought to sow the seeds of a new literature. The work in which the character of his mind, perhaps, may be best discovered, is the collection of epigrams which he wrote on the most common proverbs of the country. Some of these exhibit considerable ingenuity, and no lack of that species of wit which is easiest ripened by a knowledge of the world : the reader will be able to understand the nature of these compositions from th(? following : Into a beggar's hand, that alms did crave. Instead of one penny, two pence one gave, Whir-h done, he said, Beggar, happy thou ait, For to thee my hand is better than my heart. That is (quoth the beggar) as it chanceth now, The better for me, and the worse for yow. The next is on another well known phrase : ' It is mery in hall when beardes wagge all.' Husband, for this these wordes to mind I call ; This is meant by men in their merri eatinge, Not to wag their Iieardes in brawling or threatinge : Wyfe! the meaning hereof differeth not two pinnes. Betweene vvagginge of men's beardes and women's chinnes. The followmg is of a graver nature : Where will is good, and wit is )!1, There wisedome can no manner skyll. Where wit is good, and will is yll. There wisedome sitteth all silent still. Where wit and w ill are both two ill, There wisedome no way meddle will. AVhere wit and will well ordered be, There wisedome maketh a trinitec. Some of the epigrams are much longer ; and his * Dialogue' on the ' Etvectual Proverbs in the English tongue,' is regularly divided into chapters. Beside his plays and the work now mentioned, he wrote another called ' A Parable of the Spider and the Fly.' Of this poem, Harrison in Holinshed's chronicle, ungraciously remarks : " One also hath made a booke of the Spider and the Flie, wherein he dealeth so profoundlie, and beyond all measure of skill, that neither he himselfe that made it, neither aine one that readeth it, can reach unto the mean- ing thereof." Modern critics have not endeavoured to reverse thia sentence, and Warton observes that perhaps, " there never was so dull, so tedious, and trifling an apologue ; without fancy, meaning, or moral ;" and that the author " seems to have intended a fable on the burlesque construction ; but we know not when he would be serious and when witty, whether he means to make the reader laugh, or to give him advice." The work, in fact, Avas forgotten at a very early period, and Heywood's fame, even among the curious, rests solely on his epigrams. Period,] ROGER ASCHAM. 739 BOKN CIRC. A. I). \'>\'> l)li:i) A. I>. 1 5GS. RoGKR AscHAM ^vas born at Kirkhy- Wiske, a villa^ie near Northallor- ton in Yorkshire, about the year 151.5. His father, John Aschani, was house-steward in the noble family of Scroop ; his mother, Margaret, was allied to several considerable families. These two good peo])le are said to have lived together in harmony and affection for the long period of sixty -seven years, and to have at last died on the same hour of the same day. Roger, the third son of tiiis worth}' pair, while yet a youth, was received into the family of Sir Antliony Wingfield, and enjoyed, with that gentleman's sons, the benefit of private education und(;r a domestic tutor. Discovering an early fondness for reading, and having made rapid progress in classical learning, his generous j)atron, pleased with the proofs wliich his young eleve gave of genius and docility, de- termined to afford him the advantage of an university-education ; and, m 1530, sent him to St John's college, Cambridge. With the peculiar talents for the study of languages which Ascham possessed, it was fortunate for him that he entered upon life at a period when the attention of the whole educated world was turned towards the revival and advancement of learning, in connexion with the rapid progress of the art of printing, aTid Greek and Roman authors were edited with diligence, and read and studied with avidity throughout the republic of letters. The college in which young Ascham was entered, hud caught the spirit of the age. Dr Metcalf, the master, was, as Ascham himself informs us, " a man meanly learned himself, but not meanly affectioned to set forward learning in others ; and," he adds, " I lacked not his favour to further me in learning." Hugh Fitzherbert, his tutor, was a good scholar, and possessed a happy facility of teach- ing ; and his friend Pembei ton, who was ready on all occasions to assist him in his studies, was a great proficient in Greek learning. Ascham, from his entrance upon academic life, felt an ardent desire to excel in learn- ing, and devoted himself with uncommon industry to his studies. Ac- cording to the maxim, " Qui docet, discit," he thought that a language might be best learned by teaching it; and, as soon as he had made some progress in Greek, he undertook to instruct boys in the rudiments of that language. In his reading, he observed a rule well worth the at- tention of students, to " lose no time in the perusal of mean or un- profitable books." Cicero and Cassar, in particular, he studied as his best guides in writing the Latin language, and he formed his style upon these excellent models. In th.e IStii year of his age, Ascham took his first degree of A. B., and was, aliout a month afterwanls, chosen fellow of the college. Notwithstanding his uncommon merit, his elec- tion to the fellowship was attended with some difficulty, on account of the favourable disposition which he had discovered towards the reformed religion. " Being a boy, new bachelor in arts," says he, " I chanced among my companions to speak against the pope, which matter was then in every man's mouth. * * * * My talk came to Dr Metcalfs ear — I was called before him and the seniors, and after grievous rebuke and 740 LITERARY SERIES. [Foukth some j)unishment, open warning was given to all the fellows : ' none to be so hardy to give me his vote at that election.' And yet, for all those open threats, the good father himself privily procured that I should oven then be chosen fellow." At the age of 21, in the year 1337, he was inaugurated A. M., and from this time, and perhaps sooner, publicly took upon him the office of tutor. The high reputation which he had already acquired in Greek learning, and the recommendations of his friend Pemberton, brought the young tutor many pupils, several of whom proved eminent scholars, and rose to great eminence. Among the rest, William Grindal was so much distinguished, that, on the recommendation of Sir John Cheke, he was appointed master of languages to the princess Elizabeth. How it happened that Ascham himself was not nominated to this honourable post is net certain ; but from one of his letters, it seems probable that he was at that time too fond of an academical life to exchange it for a station at court. Though no regular lectureship in Greek had yet been established at Oxford, Ascham was apppointed to read public lectures on that language in the schools, for which he received a liberal salary from the university. At this time, a controversy existed in the imiversity con- cerning the right pronunciation of the Greek language, in which Ascham at first opposed the method introduced by Sir John Cheke and Sir Thomas Smith, but afterwards, upon giving the matter a fuller exami- nation, came over to their opinion and practice. It is probable that it is in part owing to the ingenuity with which he defended it, (see his letter to Hubertus Languetus,) that this mode of pronunciation was generally adopted, and has since prevailed in the schools of Eng- land. Among tlie anuisements with which Ascham enlivened his hours of leisure was that of instrumental music. He was also an accomplished penman, and often amused himself in his study by embellishing the pages of his manuscripts, according to the custom of the age, with elegant draughts and illuminations. In the open air he frequently exercised his body and relieved his mind from fatigue by the diver- sion of archery. His love of this exercise led him to compose a treatise on the art, which he entitled, ' Toxophilus.' This ingenious treatise, though, as a book of precepts, perhaps of little value, might, at the time when it was written, materially contribute to the improve- ment of the English language ; for it was well adapted to answer the author's intention, expressed in a letter to Bishop Gardiner, of intro- ducing in English prose a more natural, easy, and truly English diction, than was then in common use. Ascham has the honesty to confess, that another more selfish motive had a considerable share in producing this treatise. He wished to make a tour into Italy, at this time the ca- pital of the republic of letters, and particularly the chief seat of Greek learning ; and he hoped, by dedicating his book to the king, to obtain ct pension which might enable him to accomplish this favourite design. It may reflect a small ray of honour on the name of Henry VIIL, that this modest wish of the learned Ascham was not altogether frustrated. The king, in the year 1544, settled upon him an annual pension of £10; — a sum which Dr Johnson, reckoning together the wants which this sum would enable Ascham to supply, and the wants from which, bj tlie general habits of the times, and the peculiar habits of a studcjit's PERroD.J ROGER ASCHAM. 741 iifp, he was exempt, ostimatos at more than one hundred pounds in the present (hiy. TJiis pension w.os for some time discontinued after tlie king's death, but was ri'stored by Edward VI., and doul)led by Queen Mary. Ascliam, also, tlie same year, received the peciniiary benefit, as well as the honour of an appointment to tiie otKee of orator to the university — an oHice which, while he remained in the univerf.ity, he filled with great credit. The name of Ascham had now, by means of his pupils and writings, acquireil considerable celebrity. At length, in 1;>48, upon the; death of his ])upil Grindal, preceptor to the Lady Elizabeth, that princess, to whom he had already given lessons in writing, called Ascham from his college \o direct her studies. He accepted the honourable charge, and instructed his pupil in the learned languages with great diligence and success. He read with her the greater part of Cicero and Livy, the select orations of Socrates, the plays of Sophocles, and the (jreek Testament; but after two years, some unknown cause of dissatisfaction arose, which led Ascham to take an abrupt leave of the princess, and return to the university. This circumstance did not, however, alienate her regard for her preceptor ; for, in the same year, 1530, after visit- ing his native place and his old acquaintance in Yorkshire, he was re- called to the court and appointed secretary to Sir Richard Morisine, who was then going as ambassador to the emperor, Charleys V. On his return to London, he paid a visit to Lady Jane Grey, to whom he acknowledges himself exceedingly beholden, and of whom he relates that he found her, while the duke and duchess, with the rest of the household, were hunting in the park, reading in her chamber Plato's Phffido in Greek, ' and that,* say^ he, ' with as much delight as some gentlemen would read a merry tale in Boccace.' During his foreign expedition, which lasted three years, he travelled through a great part of Germany, and visited many learned men. When he was with the ambassador, he was useful to him, both in his private studies and the management of his public concerns. On three days in the week, he read with him in the morning some pages of Herodotus or Demosthenes, and in the afternoon a portion of Sopho- cles or Euripides. On the other days he wrote the letters of public business, and at night continued his diary, or remarks, and wrote pri- rate letters. One of the fruits of this tour was a curious and now scarce tract, entitled, ' A Report and Discourse of the Affairs and State of Germany,' &c., whieii contains valuable information and ju- dicious reflections. It bears no date, but was probably written in 1532. Ascham made a short excursion into Italy, but was much dis- gusted with the manners of the inhabitants, particularly of the Vene- tians. On the death of Edward VI., in 1553, Morisine was recalled, and Ascham returned to his college with no other support than his fellow- ship, and his salary as orator to the university. Through the interest of Lord Paget and of Bishop Gardiner, who, though he well knew that Ascham was a protestaut, had the generosity not to desert him, lie was appointed Latin secretary to the queen, with a salary of £10 a year, and permission to keep his college preferment. If it be thought surprising that he met with such good fortune under the intolerant reign of Mary, let it not be imputed to any servile compliance on his part 742 LITERARY SERIES. [Fourth Ascliani was prudent, but not dishonest. He maintained his interest with Elizabeth in the most perilous times ; and to the fidelity of his friendship with Cecil, he in part owed his prosperity under the next reign. The fact probably was, tliat besides the respect paid by all par- ties to Ascham for his learning, the facility and elegance of his Latin pen rendered him, in some sort, necessary at court. It is a striking instance of uncommon readiness and assiduity, that, in his capacity of Latin secretary, he wrote, in three days, forty-seven despatches to fo- reign personages of the highest rank, on the subject of electing Car- dinal Pole to the papal chair. Among his own foreign correspondents were Sturmius of Strasburg, Osorius, Nannius of Louvain, and Jerom Wolfiiis. Li 1554 he resigned his fellowship, and married Miss Mar- garet Howe, a young lady of good family. The transmission of the crown from a popish to a protestant princess made little change in the situation of Ascham, He had been protected and favoured by Mary ; and, upon the accession of Elizabeth, he was continued in his former employments with the same salary. He was, in- deed, daily admitted to the presence of the queen, and read with her in the learned languages some hours every day ; and of her proficiency under BO excellent a master many proofs remain. We shall select one testimony from Ascham himself, — " Point forth six of the best given gentlemen oi this court, and all they together show not so much good will, spend not 60 much time, bestow not so many hours daily, orderly, and constantly, for the increase of learning and knowledge, as doth the queen's majesty herself. Yea, I believe that, beside her perfect readiness in Latin. Italian, French, and Spanish, she readeth here more Greek every day than some prebendary of tliis church doth read Latin in a whole week. And, that which is most praiseworthy of all, within the walls of her privy-chamber she hath obtained that excellence of learning, to under- stand, speak, and write, both wittily with head and fair with hand, as scarcely one or two wits in both universities have in many years reached unto." For the master who taught his sovereign with so much success, and who was sometimes permitted to play with her at draughts and chess, a recompense might have been expected more worthy of royal nmnificence than a pension of £20 a-year, and the prebend of West- wang in the church of York ; yet, through the queen's parsimony, As- cham remained thus pitifully provided for till his death. It has been suggested that the queen kept him poor because she knew him to be extra- vagant ; and he is accused, not unjustly it would appear, of a propensity disgraceful to a man of letters and humanity, — a fondness for dice and for cock-fighting. In his ' Schoolmaster,' Ascham intimates an inten- tion of writing a book ' Of the Cockpit,' which he reckons among the kinds of pastime fit for a gentleman. In the year 1563, a conversation arose in the apartment of the secre- tary. Sir William Cecil, at Windsor, on the subject of education. Some Eton scholars having that morning run away from the school for fear of chastisement, the discourse turned upon the severity of the correction used in the public schools. Contrary opinions were maintained upon tlie subject. Sir Richard Sackville, one of the company, was silent, but was so struck with the arguments of Ascham, in favour of a mild treat- ment of boys, that he afterwards entreated his advice and assistance in the education of his grandson, and, at the same time, requested that h«> Pkkiod.] WALTER HADDON, LL.D. 743 would compose a treatise on the general subject of education. These circumstances gave birth to an excellent performance, entitled, ' The Schoolmaster.' The work is strongly expressive of the autiior's huma- nity and good sense, and abounds with jiroofs of extensive and accurate erudition. It contains excellent practical advice, particularly on the method of teaching classical h-arning. This treatise was pui)lished after tlie author's death by his widow, in 1571, and was reprinted witli notes, in 8vo., at London, by Upton, in 1711. His last illness was occasioned by too close application to the conijjosition of a poem, which he meant to present to the queen on the New-year's-day of 15G9. He died in his fifty-third year, on the 23d, or, according to some, the 30th of De- cember, 1368,' and was interred in St Sepulchre's church. His funeral sermon was preached by Dr Alex. Nowcl, dean of St Paul's. His cha- racter is well drawn by Buchanan, in the following epigram, which he consecrated to the memory of his friend : — Aschamum extiuctum patrite Giacseque rameiiie, Et Latitite vera cum inctate doleiit. Prim'il)ibus vixitcarus, jucuiidus anilcis, Ku moclica ; in mores dicere fama iiequit. The epistles of Ascham were published after his death by the mas ter of Westminster school, and soon passed through four editions at home, and three abroad. The last and best edition is that by Elstob, Oxford, 1763. An edition of his works, with a life by Dr Johnson, was published by Bennet, in 4to., in 1761.' Walter l^atition, HE*©. BORN A. D. 1516. — dh:u a. d. 1572. This most distinguished and elegant scholar, one of the brightest lay ornaments of the Reformation, was born of a respectable fami- ly in Buckinghamshire, in the year 1516. He was educated first at Eton, under Dr Cox, bishop of Ely, and, in 1533, was elected scholar of King's college, Cambridge, and was afterwards made fellow. He stood high among scholars, for the purity of his Latin style, and was considered a proficient both in oratory and poetry. Queen Elizabeth was once asked which she preferred, Buchanan or Haddon ? Her re- reply was, " Buchannum omnibus antepono ; Haddonum nemini post- pone." At the university he was accounted one of its brightest orna- ments, and scarcely inferior in eloquence and Latinity to Cicero himself. His chief pursuit, however, was civil law, in which he took his degree, and was made public lecturer. He held also the professorship of rlie- toric and oratory. During the short reign of Edward the Sixth, he was made master of Trinity, in the room of Bishop Gardiner. Tiie office of vice-chancellor was conferred upon him in 1550, and, two years after, though not qualified for the ofiice according to the statutes, he was chosen president of Magdalen college, Oxford. On the accession of Queen Mary, he withdrew from his public offices and retired into private life. The perils of that agitated and gloomy period he escaped, ' Aikiii's Biog. Diet.— Biog. Brit.— Giant's Oration — Bayle. 744 LITERAEY SERIES. [Fourth through the privacy which he sought ; but, upon the death of Mary, lie again appeared under the sanction of royal favour, and became one of the most distinguished ornaments of his country, under the patronage of Elizabetli. By her he was made master of requests, and was appoint- ed, by Archbishop Parker, judge of the prerogative court of Canter- bury. By tlie queen he was also employed on several embassies, and was made a commissioner at the royal visitation of the university of Cambridge. In 1565 and 1566, he was appointed, with Dr Walton, agent at Bruges, for restoring the ancient commerce between England and the Netherlands. He was esteemed an eminent Ia\vyer, and had fair prospects of the highest promotion ; but it is said he was always exceedingly reserved on the point of the succession, for tliough the earl of Leicester frequently solicited his opinion, it always remained locked in his own breast. He died in 1572, in the 56th year of his age. He was principally concerned in drawing up and putting into Latin the code of ecclesiastical law, entitled ' Reformatio Legum Ec- clesiasticarum,' edited by John Fox in 1571. In 1563, he published a reply to Jerome Osorio's letter, entitled, ' Admonitio ad Elizabethan! Reginam Angliae.' His other works were collected and published by Thomas Hacker of King's college, Cambridge, under the title of ' Lucu- brationes G. Haddoni,' 4to. 1567 ; all Latin, and consisting mostly of orations, poems, and letters, on various subjects. Several of his origin- al letters are preserved in the Harleian MSS. St"!)n Caius, iH*33* ^ BORN A. D. 1510. DIED A. D. 1573. ' This eminent physician was born at Norwich, October 6th, 1510. He received his elementary education in that city, and, in Septem- ber, 1529, was sent to Gonville hall, in Cambridge. He appears to have distinguished himself there by literary labours of different kinds ; in due course he received the degrees of bachelor and master in arts, and, in 1533, he was appointed to a fellowship. Six years afterwards, he travelled in France, Flanders, and Germany, and went to Padua, in order to complete his professional education. He studied there under Montanus, along with the celebrated anatomist, Vesalius. He gradu- ated in medicine either in Padua or Bologna, after which, in 1542, he assisted Realdus Columbus in giving lectures on the Greek text of Aristotle, in the former university. In 1543, he travelled through Italy ; after which, on his return to England, in the following year, taking his medical degree in Cambridge, he commenced the practice of medicine in Shrewsbury and Norwich. Lie did not remain long there, for we find him soon after giving anatomical demonstrations be- fore the college of surgeons in London, which was followed by his ap- pointment as physician to Edward VI. In this honourable office he continued under Mary and Elizabeth, till 1568, when his dismissal is said to have arisen from a suspicion that he was attached to the popish religion. He became a fellow of the college of physicians in 1547, and held several honourable offices in that body, of which he was pre- sident for stven years. He supported the college against all attacks, Peuiod.J JOHN CAIUS, M.D. <" ^'^ and in particular, in a dispute between it and tiie college of surgeon* alativc to the autliority of tlu; latter to cniploy internal remedies in tiie treatment of certain diseases. Tin; first annals of tiic college were written by iiim, and extend from I5;)r> to 157^. In tlie reign of Mary, lie received permission to endow Gonville hall, in Cambridge, which was erected into a college with the names cf Gonville ai:d Caius. He added to the funds of the coll(>ge estates sulHcient to maintain three fellows and twenty scholars. In 1559, he was made master of Gonville and Cains ; and, six years afterwards, resigning his post as president of the college of physicians, \u^ came down to the university to super- .ntend the erection of new buildings in his college. He now resided en- tirely in Cambridge ; and, on resigning the mastership of his college, lie continued, as a fellow-connnoner, to attend tlie chapel daily and as- sist at prayers. In this n-tirement he kept up his literary jjursuits, and ])ublished many works, besides composing much whicli continues in IMS. According to Mouftet's ' Health's Improvement,' he was re- duced to a state of great debility befl)re his death, and endeavoured to sustain his sti-ength'by the food of irdancy. His death took place on the Ii)th of July, 1573, in the 63d year of his age. He lies in the chapel of his own college, where a monument is erected to his memory, with the simple inscription, — Fui Caius. His name is recorded in a more substantial manner in the name ot the college which his munificence ein-iched, and in the works of learn ing which he has left behind. During his residence in Italy, his first work appeared, consisting of a learned commentary on the treatise, ' De administrationiI)us Aiiatomicis,' attributed to Galen, and on that of the same author, entitled, ' De motu Musculorum.' This appeared at Basil, in 1544. His researches into the libraries of Italy enabled him to restore a treatise by Hippocrates, ' De Anatomic,' and to publish one v/hich had hitherto existed only in manuscript, ' De Medicamentis.' Of other critical works he wrote a treatise on the consonance of the English with the Greek and Latin languages ; and various annotations on Celsus which were never published. He wrote a systi.'m of medi- cine entitled, ' De Methodo niedendi,' which appeared at Basil in 1544. Another medical work, the only one of his winch appeared in English, was printed in 1552. It is entitled, ' A Boke, or Counseill against the disease, commonly called tlie Sweate or Sweatyng Sickness. iVIade by Ihon Caius, doctor in Phisicke, &c.' This disease made its appear- ance at the time when Dr Caius practised at Shrewsbury, and his de- scription is the best that is extant. He calls it a " contagious pestilential fever of one day" — and describes it as prevailing " with a mighty slaughter, and the description of it as tremendous as the plague of Athens." The practice of medicine was not then so far advanced as to render this work of much value in a practical point of view, but it dis- plays deep learning. As a naturalist, Caius was very well informed. Some of his papers were inserted in the works of the celebrated Gesner, and afterwards appeared in a separate form in London, 1570. He was induced by Gesner to write a treatise on Britisii dogs, in 1570. Tiie arrangement which he followed has been adopted by Mr Pennant in his British Zoology. As an antiquarian, Caius distinguished hini- eelf on several occasions. Besides the extensive research exhibited by almost all his works, we have proof of his ingenuity in a vindication of I. 5 b 746 LITERACY SERIES. [Fourth Cambridge, entitled ' De Antiquitate Cantabrigiae academiae.' One key, or Caius, of All Souls college, Oxford, had asserted the superior antiquity of that university over that of Cambridge. This was answered by the work, of Caius above mentioned, wherein, by much ingenious reasoning, he fixes the origin of the university of Cambridge at a period of 394 years before Christ ! The works of Dr Caius, both published and in MS. are enumerated in a book which he published in 1570, entitled ' De Libris propriis.' Respecting the private character of Caius, little is known. He appears to have been of a studious disposi- tion; and we may judge of his liberality of feeling from his munificence fo his Alma mater. BORN CIR. A. D. 1320. DIED A. D. 1580. Of this useful and industrious writer, who has rescued many illus- trious persons and facts from oblivion, there is but little account transmitted to posterity. We are informed that he was descended from a family of the same name at Bosely in Cheshire. Bishop Tanner says that he was educated in Cambridge, whore he commenced master of arts in 1344. If so, we may conjecture that he was born about the year 1520. It has been thought that he was educated as a clergyman, and exercised the ministry ; but this opinion seems to be confuted by the expressions in his will, of which the following is a copy, as given by Mr Hearne, in his preface to Camden's annals : — " In the name of God, amen. I, Raphael Hollynshed of Brome- cote, in the county of Warwick, ordaine and make my last will and testament in manner and form following : — First, I bequeath my sinful soule to almighty God, the creator of me and all mankind, trusting that, by the merits and blood-shedding of his dearest Son, Jesus Christ, he will pardon me of all my ofl'ences, and place my said sin- full soule, washed and purged from the filth of sin, among the number of his elect in the bliss of heaven. Secondly, for my worldly goods, whatsoever the same be, wherein I have any property to give and be- stow the same, I give and bequeath them, and every part and parcel of them unto my master, Thomas Burdett of Bromcote, aforesaid, Esq., making and constituting him my only and sole executor. In witness whereof I have written my last will and testament with mine own hand, and subscribed my name, and put to my scale, the first day of October, in the year of our Lord God, a thousand five hun- dred, seventy-eight. " Per me Raphael Hollynshed. " Proved April 24th, 1582." From this document, and from his literary labours, must be gathered the most that can be known of the chronicler. From these sources we learn, that though he might not have received a university education, he was a man of competent learning, and possessed of all the qualities of a diligent and faithful historian ; that he was held in high estimation Uv tlie learned antiquaries of his day, with some of whom he was a.^- Peuiod.] RAPHAEL HOLINSHED. 747 Bociated in his works : that his life was divided between these useful labours and tiie faitlifid disc'luu-ge of ids duties as steward to tlie estate of the fjcntloman nauiod in liis will, and to wlioni lie bocjueathed ail his worldly goods; and that he lived and died in the faith of a true protestant. This is substantially the life and charaeter of Ralph Ho- linshed, and it is suliicicnt to counnend him as a good man, and a worthy nu'nd)er of society, who lived rather for the bcnelit of poster- ity than for any sordiil, personal ends. The following is an account of the voluminous chronicles of Ho- linshed, in which work he was assisted by William Harrison, a bene- ficed clergyman of Kent, John Hooker, alias Vowell of Exeter, gent., uncle to the celebrated Richard Hooker, and a considerable antitjuary, and Abraham Fk'ming, rector of St Pancras, London. " Vol. I. con- tains an Historical Description of the Hand of Britaine, in three books, by William Harrison : next, the Historie of England, from the time that it was first inliabited, untill the time that it was last conquered ; by R. Holinshed. Vol. II. contains the description, conquest, inhabi- tation, and troublesome estate of Ireland ; particularly the description of that kingdom, compihMl by Richard Stanihurst. The conquest of Ireland translated from the Latin of Giraldus Cambrensis, by John Hooker, alias Vowell, of Exeter, gent. The chronicles of Ireland beginning where Giraldus did end, continued until the year 1509, from Philip Flatsburie, Henrie of Marleborow, Edm. Campian, &c.; by R. Hollynshed, and from thence to the year 1586, by R. Stanihurst and J. Hooker. The Description of Scotland, translated from the Latin of Hector Boethius, by R. H. or W. H. The His- torie of Scotland, conteining the beginning, increase, proceedings, continuance, acts, and government of tlie Scotish nation, from the originall thereof unto the yeere 1571, gathered by Raphael Holin- shed, and continued from 1571 to 1586, by Francis Botevile, alias Thin, and others. Vol. iii. begins at Duke William the Norman, com- moniie called the Conqueror, and descends by degrees of yeeres to all the kings and queenes of England. First compiled by Raphaell Ho- linshed, and by him extended to the yeare 1577 ; augmented and continued to the yeare 1586, by John Stow, Francis Thin, Abraham Fleming, and others. " In the second edition of the Chronicles, several sheets were cas- trated in the second and third volumes, chiefly of Thin's additions, because there were passages in them disagreeable to Queen Elizabeth and her ministry. These castrations were made by order of tiie privy council. They are, however, published separately, under tlie name of ' Castrations to Holinshed's Clironicle.' In the late reprint of the series of English Chronicles by the booksellers of London, Holin- shed took tlie precedence, and was accurately edited in six volumes, 4to. The time of Holinshed's death is not exactly known ; but it ap- pears from his will, that it was between the first day of October, 1578, and the twenty-fourth of April, 1582. Bishop Tanner says he died at Broracote, in 1380. 748 LITERARY SERIES. [EouRxn BORN A.D. 1554. — DIED A. D. 1586. This bright 'ornament of his country' was horn at Penshurst in Kent, on the 29th of November, 1554. On the mother's side he was descended from the famous Dudleys, dukes of Northumberland ; his father, though sprung from a less splendid source, was yet the repre- sentative of'an old and respectable family, and, which is of more im- portance, was a man of rare talents and exalted virtues. Educated under his eye, and possessing so much inherent talent, the young Sidney's youth gave bright promise of his manhood, and, according to the testimony of his friend and biographer Sir Fulke Greville, made all who knew him, look upon him as one who was destined to play no undistinguished part on the great stage of life. Having imbibed the rudiments of knowledge at Shrewsbury school, he went lo Oxford in 1569, and subsequently to Cambridge, where he applied himself to ex- ploring, not only the common track of literature, but also its more hidden recesses, with a vehemence and intensity, as unusual as it was honourable. " Such was his appetite for learning," says Fuller, " that he could never be fed fast enough therewith, and so quick and strong his digestion, that he soon turned it into wholesome nourishment and thrived healthfully thereon." After leaving the university he Avent abroad, not for the purpose of plunging into dissipation, or of amusing himself with new scenes ; but to gain the acquaintance of learned men, to make farther acquisitions to his literary store, — to enlarge his mind by contemplating foreign customs and manners, — to observe the form of government under which the people were happiest, — to inquire into tlio'resources and policy of states, — and, in a word, so to expand his intellect, as to make him a worthy member of the first commonwealth in Europe. During his stay in Paris, the massacre of St Bartholomew deluged the French capital with blood, and covered the French name with eternal infamy. Sidney escaped in that night of crime by taking refuge in the house of the British ambassador. Sir Francis Walsingham, to whose care he had been recommended by his uncle, the famous earl of Leicester. From France he proceeded on his travels through Ger- many, Hungary, Italy and Belgium, diligently pursuing, wherever he came, all arts which it befitted a gentleman or scholar to know, and every where acquiring the love and admiration of those with whom he consorted. The most celebrated men of the day, disregarding his youth, admitted him to their intimacy. The two learned print- prs, Robert and Henry Stephens, Daniel Rogers, the poet Tasso, Zaciiarias Ursinus and others of almost equal eminence, honoured him with their friendship. One distinguished man, the justly-famous Hu- bert Languet, appears to have regarded him with an almost paternal affection, and by the excellent advice which he gave him, both orally and in frequent letters, contributed no little to confirm him in tlie bright path of honour and virtue on which he had already entered. After an absence of three years, Sidney returned to England in Ma\ 1575. PKRion.] SIR PHILIP SYDNEY. 749 " Complote in feiitureantl In mind, With all guod grace togracu a j;i!iilluman." Ills varied learning, his refined manners and polished mind, speedily made iiini the pride and admiration of the English court, to which pro- bably the singular beauty of his personal appearance conduced. " He was so essential," says Fuller, " to the English court, that it seemed maimed without his company, being a complete master of matter and language." The queen — than whom none was more skilled in choosing tit aL:;ents for tier purposes — soon discerned his talents, and in 1576, sent him as ambassador, ostensilily to condole with the Emperor Rodolph on the demise of his father Maximilian the II., and on a similar mission to John Casimir, count-palatine of the Rhino, whose father also was lately deceased. The real object of these eml^assies, was to consolidate a union of all the protestant states, against their common foe the catholic powers, in which Sidney succeeded. He had also tiu; good fortune to acqidre the friendship, not only of the potentates to whom he was sent as ambassador, but likewise of the illustrious William Prince of Orange, " one of the ripest and greatest counsellors at that day in Europe." Different as were these two eminent men in station, they were of kindred mind, and their friendship appears to have been as warm and sincere as could have existed between equals. On Sidney's return to En<,dand, he was highly applauded for the conduct of his em- bassies. " Tiiere hathe not been any gentleman, I am sure, these many yeres," writes Sir John Walsingham to Sidney's father, " that hathe gon throughe so honorable a charge with as great commendacions as he.'' For some time after his return he continued at court, dili- gently performing all the duties of a good son and a good subject, though, as may be interred from Languet's letters, the life of a courtier had few chai'ms for him. When the marriage between the queen and the duke of Anjou was in agitation, Sidney with memorable patriotism, wrote a long letter to the queen, in which he set forth, though at great risk of incurring her displeasure, many strong reasons against the match. This letter which is still extant, was distinguishetl not less by the force of its argument than by the beauty of its style, and, as Strype thinks, had considerable influence in swaying the queen's mind against the marriage. About this time he got involved in a quarrel with the earl of Oxford, in consequence of which he retired from the court for a short time to Wilton, a beautiful seat belonging to his brother-in-law, the earl of Pembroke. It was here that he is supposed to have written his ' Arcadia.' This singular romance, being intended merely for the amusement of his sister, the countess of Pembroke, was composed on detached sheets of paper at different intervals, and each sheet was sent to the countess ds soon as it was filled. She, who tenderly loved her brother, trea- sured up the manuscripts carefully, and some years after his death allowed them to be printed, contrary, it is said, to his dying wish. Of the estimation in which Sidney was held, not only in England, but throughout Europe, it is no small proof that, young as he was, his assistance was personally requested in 1579, by one of the candidates for the crown of Portugal. Sidney would have complied with the re- quest, had not the queen, who held his safety very dear, forbidden him. iriie queen also prevented him from embarking in an expedition which, 750 LITERAET SERIES. TFouRTn in conjunction with Sir Francis Drake, he had planned, to make an attack on the Spanish settlements in America. In 1583, he married a daughter of Sir Francis Walsingham, a lady of extraordinary worth and beauty, and in the same year he received from Elizabeth the honour of knighthood. Not long afterwards, at the request of some distinguished foreigners, he became a candidate for the crown of Poland, at that time vacant, and it has been thought by many that he would have been elected, had not the queen once again opposed his wishes : " refusing," says Sir Robert Naunton, " to further his advancement, not out of emulation, but out of fear to lose the jewel of her times." What effect Sidney's exalted character and commandmg talents might have had in altering the destinies of that ill-starred country, had he been raised to the throne, it were fruitless to inquire. We are now approaching the closing scene of Sidney's life. In 1585, the protestant inhabitants of the Netherlands, unable longer to endure the barbarities of the duke of Alva, besought the assistance of Elizabeth, and on condition of her sending troops to their aid, ceded to her certain of their towns. Of these towns, Flushing was the most im- portant, to the government of which Elizabeth appointed Sidney, re- solving at length to gratify the enterprising spirit she had so often curbed. Sidney, both from anxiety to distinguish himself, and from an ardent and honourable desire to fight in the cause of religious liberty, eagerly accepted the command, and although trammelled by the mis- conduct of his uncle, the earl of Leicester, who had been appointed captain-general of Holland, he yet contrived on several occasions to render signal service to the cause in which he was embarked. But the tree was to be cut down, even when its bloom was brightest. At the hard-fought battle of Zutphen, while he was conducting himself with an almost superhuman energy and courage, he received a wound, which at once incapacitated him for further exertion, and in a very short time after brought him to an untimely grave. " Sir Philip Sidney," says Stowe, " so behaved himself that it was wonder to see ; for he charged the enemy thrice in one skirmish, and in the last charge he was shot' through his left thigh, to the great grief of his excellency and the whole camp."^ He languished for sixteen days in great pain and expired on the 19th of October, 1586, in the 32d year of his age. He displayed on his deathbed the same lofty character which had secured to him through life the love and admiration of mankind. The courage of a hero, the calmness of a philosopher, and above all, the genuine piety of a Christian, gilded the dying hours of this glorious martyr to the cause of civil and religious liberty. It is almost impossible for a modern to comprehend the universal burst of sorrow throughout Europe, when the news of his death was told. In England no gentleman for many months appeared in the city or court out of mourning ; James, king oi Scotland, honoured him with an epitaph ; both the universities poured forth elegiac strains ; Holland paid to her defender the tribute of her tears ; and even the marble-hearted monster Philip of Spain, lamented his death. The States of Holland earnestly petitioned to be allowed to bury his ashes, but Elizabeth resolving herself to do honour to his ' The affecting anecdote which is toid of Sir Philip's resigning to a djin^ soldier the water brought for himself, is too common to need repetition here. Period.] SIR rillLIP SYDNEY. 751 roinains, caused him to be interred with infinite ceremony and pomp, on the lOth of Fobniary followinjj, in St Paul's catliedral. In estimating Sir JMiilip Siiliu^'.s nuM-its as a writer, it behoves us to RMneniber, that liis literary career was cut short at an age when that of most men is only eomniencing, and that the productions which he has left us were little more than the unpolished and uncared-for play things of his idle hours. His writings were not the set productions ol an author — they were the holyday anmsements of a gentleman. These circumstances being remembered, we are enabled readily to account for the occasional extravagancies and redundancies wliicli mark his style, while our admiration is increased tenfold in the contemi)lation of the high original genius which beams from every page. His greatest work, the Arcadia, by which posterity has determined that his merits are to stand or fall, is one of those singular fictions in whicli were united the heroic and pastoral romance. Those acquainted with this species of writing, must know the difficulty of making it at all readable, and such persons will be best qualified to estimate the matchless in- genuity and talent with which Sidney has contrived to make the Arcadia, not only not absurd, but in many parts intensely interesting. It is nevertheless to be confessed, that the nature of the fiction is a great drawback on the pleasure of perusing it. The plot, indeed, is skilfully constructed, and the scenes are worked up with a power and commantl over the affections of the heart such as few writers exhibit, but, to counterbalance this, there are many anomalies, perhaps we should say absurdities, many unnatural events or actions, an air of such im- probability pervading the book, that it is but rarely we can award to the autlior even the belief of our imaginations. These, however, are not so much the faults of the author as of the class which he selected. The Arcadia is therefore principally valuable for the exquisite beauty of many of the detached passages, — the flashes and outbreaks of a lofty mind whose mingled essence was poetry and honour. Much of the charm arises from our clearly perceiving, that the remarks, — the characters, — the poetic descriptions which adorn his page, — are not the laboured excogitations of a hackneyed writer, but the spontaneous efl'usions of a mind which poured forth its genuine feelings unchecked by the fear of criticism. With the joyous elasticity of youth and con- scious talent, his fancy went bounding on through the fiiiry land which his imagination created, and wherever beauty, love, or honour bloomed the brightest, there he culled the choicest flowers. The inimitable beauty of many of the descriptions of nature, — the force and originality of tlie aphorisms, — the commanding intellect displayed in the occasional rea- sonings and reflections, — the high poetic genius and the indescribable air of lofty and chivalrous feeling which reigns throughout, — make the Arcadia a treasure to all whose taste is not thoroughly depraved. Horace Walpole has indeed called it a " lamentable, pedantic, pastoral romance, which the patience of a young virgin in love cannot now wade through ;" but we apprehend that his censure will be heeded oidy by the few who are ignorant that Horace Walpole experienced, in attempting to overthrow every established opinion, a delight not unlike tliat whicii the Czar, Peter the Great, is said to have derived from being vdieeled in a barrow through Evelyn's " glorious and impenetra- ble holly-bush" at Sayes court. Nor do we tliink that the censure of 752 LITP:RAEY SEHIES. [Foukih the lord of Strawberry hill wiil suffice to condemn a book which has received the praise of Sir William Temple and John Milton.^ At any rate, be its merits what they may, it is certain that that man can never have fed rightly of ' tlie dainties that are bred in books,' who does not award to Sidney's Arcadia an immeasurable superiority over Lord Orford's Castle of Otranto. His ' Defence of Poesy' is a short treatise which has been hidden beneath the bulk of the Arcadia, though it would serve as a lasting monument to any writer. Like the celebrated work of Longinus, it is in itself a living testimony to the glory of the art whereof it treats. Sidney has contrived to interweave with, and make subservient to a train of powerful reasoning, passages of such beauty and splendour, that lie who should doubt the majesty of ' sacred poesy,' with such witnes- ses before his eyes, would deserve, while he lived, "to live in love and never get favour, for lacking skill of a sonnet, and, when he died, that his memory should die from the earth for want of an epitaph." Sidney's poetry is the portion of his works which will be read with the least pleasure. It is chiefly amatory, and, like most poetry of that nature, abounds in extravagant compliments, far-fetched conceits and protestations, very wearisome to any but the parties concerned. Oc- casionally there are ideas worthy of the author, and glittering passages, but they serve only to cast a .stronger light on the barrenness by which they are surrounded. It cannot be aenied, that one great charm of Sir P. Sidney's writings arises from those mysterious laws of association which bring before us m every page the recollection of the author. We summon up in our imagination the peerless warrior, — the flower of the English court, — the pattern whom all desirous of eminence made it their object to imitate — • the friend of liberty, — the " hope of all learned men, and patron of Spenser's young Muses ;" while the bloody field on which that noble head was laid low rises dimly before us, and we turn to the glowing page, on which his thoughts yet live, with a melancholy and intense interest. Sidney flourished at a time when the manners and opinions of England, and indeed of Europe, were undergoing a mighty change, and it is no hyperbole to say that his character exhibited all the more pleasing features of the two eras. The dauntless courage, — the courtly grace, — the high-toned humanity, and the spotless honour which be- longed to the ages of chivalry, — were mingled in his character, and well compounded with the love of literature, — the enlightened and cultivated mind, — the statesman-like talents, and the attachment to liberty and true religion, which are the more peculiar characteristics of civilization. Placed like a great sea-mark to denote this grand movement of the hu- man race, he stands forth an enduring monument of all that is great and noble in the ages of romance as well as in those of history. The pen, from which trickled the honeyed sweetness of the Arcadia, was wielded, when occasion required, in an energetic and powerfully-reasoned appeal to his sovereign, in behalf of his country and religion ; and the eye which shed joy and gladness over courtly festival and lady's bower, glanced calml}'- and fearlessly over the blood-gorged field of Zutphen. He was one, of whom it will not be extravagant to agree with Camden " Milluii in Uie Icouoclasies calls the Arcadia " a book full of mirth and witty.'' Pi:ui()i..J THOMAS CAVENDISH. 75.3 in sayinij, that lie is " his own monument whose memory is eternizofl in Ills writinj^s, and wiio was born into the world to show unto our ajre a sample of ancient virtues ;" or, with Spenser, in styling him that " mo^t noble spirit, To whom all lu'iuity ami ail vuitimus love ApiuMiud 111 llit'ir iiativi! |ir()|)uitii'S, AimI iliil L'liricli thai iioblu soul of liis With treasiiri! jiassiiis all this woihli'S worth — AVoithy oT lu'avL'ii itself, whii'li brought it Ibrlli.' His works were printed at London in 3 vols, oetavo, 17:24-5. There are two short pieces in the Soiners' Tracts of which he is tlierc called the author, but we know not on what authority. They are very like his style, however. DIED A. D. 1 j92. In nothing does the policy of Elizabeth appear more consj)ieuons than in the attention which was paid during her reign to the rising marine of the kingdom, and the encouragement which she uniformly tendered to those intrepid spirits who took the lead in maritime discovery amongst English seamen. The apostrophe of Purchas to the memory of ' glorious Elizabeth' is, however high wrought, not without a certain shade of truth, and may be quoted here both for the reader's edifica- tion and amusement. " Thou wast indeed," says Master Purchas, addressing the spirit of the ' English Deborah,' " Thou wast indeed the mother of English sea-greatness. And didst first by thy generals, not salute alone, but awe and terrify the remotest east ami west,^^tretching thy long and strong arms to India, to China, to America, to the Peruvian seas, the Calefornian coast, and New Albion's sceptres. Thou madest the northern Muscovite admire thy greatness. Thou gavest name to the north-west straits ; and the southern Negroes, and islands of the south unknown continent which knew not humanity, were compelled to know thee. Thou embraeedst the whole earthly globe in thy maritime arms. Thoufreedest England from Easterlings and Lombard's borrowed legs; and taught her not only to stand and go without help, but to become help to out-friends, and with her own sea-forces to stand against, yea to stand upon, and stamp under her feet the proudest of her foes. ^ Thou wast a mother to thy neighbours, Scots, French, Dutch, — a mirror to the remotest nations. Great Cumberland's twelve voyages before re- cited are thine, and the fiery vigour of his martial spirit was kindled at thy bright lamp, and quickened t)y the great spirit of Elizabeth. Drake, Cavendish. John and Richard Hawkins, Raleigh, Dudley, Siiirley, Preston, Grenville, Lancaster, Wood, Raymond, Levison, Monson, Winter, Frobisher, Davis, and other star-worthies of England's sphere, whose planet-courses we have before related, all acknowledge Elizas orb to be their first and highest mover." One of the most illustrious of this group of ' star-worthiesj was Thomas Cavendish, the second Englishman that circumnavigated the globe ; his paternal estates lying near Ipswich, he may have caught I. 5 c 754 LITERAEY SERIES. [Fourth his first predilections for nautical life from the scenes which he witnessed at tliat port. Of more art than prudence, he early dissipated liis patri- mony, which was considerable, in the amusements and gallantries of a man of fashion ; but the riches of the Indian settlements and the ex- ploits of Drake were now beginning to be talked about, and Cavendish resolved to peril the relics of his fortune in the attempt to emulate the exploits and success of that great man. In 1585, he accompanied Sir Richard Grenville's expedition to Virginia ; and in July, 1586, he sailed from Plymouth with a small squadron of his own. His first ex- ploit was a descent upon Sierra Leone in which he won neither honour nor booty. On the I6th of December, he made the coast of America in 47° 30' south latitude, and on the 6th of January, next year, he entered Magellan's straits ; here he found the wretched remains of a Spanish colony founded after Drake's appearance in this quarter, by Sanniento, with the view of retaining what was considered as the master- key to the South seas in the hands of Spain. These colonists had been long abandoned to their fate by the mother-country. Cavendish offered to transport them to Peru, but they hesitated to trust themselves to the heretic, and while they diti'ered among themselves on the point, a fair wind springing up, the English squadron sailed, leaving the wretched Spaniards to their miserable fate. On the 24th of February, the squad- ron emerged from the straits after performing a number of marauding exploits on the Peruvian and Chilian coast. Cavendish, on the 4th of November, encountered the Santa Anna, a Spanish vessel of 700 tons having 122,000 pesos in gold on board, with a rich cargo of silks and wine, which he took after a slight action. He arrived at Plymouth on the 9th of September, 1588, having completed the circumnavigation of the glob(! in two years and fifty days. It may afford some insight into the spirit of the times and the views which men then took of the most wanton outrages on human life and property, when perpetrated upon the subjects of a country with which we are at war, to quote Cavendish's own summary of his exploits during this expedition as detailed by him in a letter to his friend and patron Lord Hunsdon. " It hath pleased almighty God," says our navi^^ator, " to suflf'er me to circumpass the whole globe of the world, entering in at the strait of Magellan by the cape de Buena Esperan^a ; in which voyage I have either discovered or brought certain intelligence of all the rich places of the world, which were ever discovered by any Chris- tian. I navigated along the coast of Chili, Peru, and New Spain, where I made great spoils. I burnt and sunk nineteen sails of ships small and great. All the villages and towns that ever I landed at I burned and spoiled, and had I not been discovered upon the coast, I had taken great quantity of treasure. The matter of most profit unto rae was a great ship of the king's which I took at California; which hip came from the Philippines, being one of the richest of merchandize that ever passed those seas. " From the cape of California, being the uttermost part of New Spain, [ navigated to the islands of the Philippines, hard upon the coast of China, of which country I have brought such intelligence as hath not been heard of in those parts : the stateliness and riches of which I fear to make r(!port of lest I should not be credited I found out by the way homeward the island of Sancta Helena, where the i'ortu- Period.] CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE. 755 l^iiese usod to relieve tliemsclves, and from that island God hath suftV'red me to return to England. All which services, with myself. I liumbly prostrate at her majesty's feet, desiring the Almighty long to continue lier reign among us ; for at this day she is the most liimous and virtuous princess that liveth in the world." With the means of gratification his old habits had returned upon him, I)ut Cavendish was less fortunate in his second voyage. Withi?i three years after his arrival from ius first cruise, he determined to put to sea again for the purpose of recruiting his exhausted iinances. His ship the Desire, was on this occasion conunanded by the celebrated navigatoi John Davis. They put to sea on the l2(ith of August, and on the .0th of December, they pillaged Placengia, a Portuguese settlement on the coast of Brazil. On tlie 14th of April, they entered the straits, but symptoms of dissatisfaction and nmtinies had already shown themselves amongst the squadron, tiie weather became stormy, and Cavendish and Davis held ditferent opinions as to the course to be pursued after clear- ing the straits. The majority of the crew also differed from both. In this emergency Cavendish agreed to return to Brazil for supplies, and then to attempt the trade again, and they accordingly shaped their course eastwards ; but on the 20th of INIay, Davis in the Desire, was separated from the Leicester galleys in which Cavendish had embarked. It was certainly not the intention of Davis to desert his master, although Cavendish charges him witli it. The ships had in fact lost sight of each other, and by a series of unfortunate circumstances which neither com- mander could control, were prevented rejoining. Cavendish soon after- wards lost all conmiand of his crew, who insisted on returning to England, declaring that they could no longer peril their lives in his profitless service. With bitter reluctance he yielded to the necessity of his situation, but his proud spirit could not support the indignity thus put upon him, and before the Leicester came in sight of England, her gallant commander had expired. BORN CIK. A. D. loG2. — OUCD CIIl. A. D. 1593. Mr Ellis conjectures that lliis great dramatist was born about the year 1562. There is no account extant of his family. Bak(;r informs us that he was of Bennet college, Cambridge ; and that he took the degree of M. A. there in 1587, He came to a tra- gical and premature end about the year 1593. " It happened," says Wood, "that he fell deejjly in love with a low girl, and had for his rival a fellow in livery, vho looked more like a pimp than a lovi-r. Marlowe, fired with jealousy, and having some reason to believe that his mistress granted the fellow favours, rushed upon him to stab him with his dagger; but the footman being quick, arrested the stroke, and catching hold of Marlowe's wrist, stabbed him with his own weapon, and notwithstanding all the assistance of the surgery, he soon after died of the wound, before the year 1593." This story occurs in Beard's ' Theatre of God's Judgments,* and in a work, which probably preceded the Theatre, Vaugliau's ' Golden Grove.' Vaughan says tiuxt the 756 LITEEAHY SEEIES. [Fourth catastrophe happened at Deptford, and that the name of Marlowe's an- tagonist was Ingram. Aubrey fixes the murder on a rival poet, Ben Jonson. A. Monthly reviewer has thrown out the suspicion that Chris- topher Marlowe is but a borrowed designation of the great Shakspeare, " who disappears from all biographical research just at the moment when Marlowe first comes on the stage, and who reappears in his proper name in 1592, when a strange story was put in circulation that Mar- lowe had been recently assassinated with his own sword, which may," says the reviewer, " be allegorically true." In support of this theory, the reviewer goes on to point out the habitual resemblance of style between these two writers ; and notices the fact, that the name of Marlowe — as if being fictitious it were common property — was borrowed successively, after the pretended death of Marlowe, by several authors.' We think there is a refinement of scepticism in this theory of the identity of our two great dramatists. Judging from the internal evidence of their works alone, we are at a loss to conceive how any English critic should have come to the conclusion that Marlov.'e was only another name for the matchless Shakspeare. Not to count on any other points of difference, the want of unity and coherence so observable in all Marlowe's dramas, must for ever mark him out as one ' longo inter- vallo proximus' to Shakspeare. A serious accusation has been preferred against Marlowe, which seems to have originated with Beard, namely, that he was an atheist, and "not only in word blasphemed the Trinity, but also, as it was credibly reported, wrote divers discourses against it, affirming our Saviour to be a deceiver, and Moses to be a conjurer, — the Holy Bible to contain only idle stories, and all religions but a device of policy." Bishop Tanner calls him 'atheista et blasphemus horrendus ;' and Hawkens says of him, that "he was an excellent poet, but of abandoned morals, and'of the most impious principles — a complete libertine, and an avowed atheist." All this rests, as we have observed, on the single authority of Beard, and he, after all, merely professes to make the statement upon hearsay ! One is ready to ask where are the several blasphemous discourses which Marlowe penned ? No one has seen them ; and Greene, his intimate friend, when reproving him for his dissipated life, brings no such charge against him as Beard insinuates. No one can deny that Marlowe led a sensual and vicious life, but it is altogether unjust to accuse him of having penned a systematic attack upon the foundations of religion, without much better evidence than has yet been offered to substantiate so grave a charge. Marlowe has written six plays ; he also assisted Nash in his tragedy of ' Dido,' and Day in the comedy of ' The Maiden's Holiday,' which was never printed. The first and second, and part of the third sestiads of the poem of ' Hero and Leander' are known to have been written by him ; he also translated the first book of Lucan's ' Pharsalia' into English blank verse, and the ' Elegies' of Ovid. The licentiousness of the Ovidean muse was rendered by him with such fidelity that his book was con- demned and burnt at Stationer's hall, in 1599, by order of the archbishop of Canterbury We have already alluded to the principal defect in Marlowe's dra- ' JVloiitlily Hev., vol. xxiii, pp. 61-63. Pkiuoo.J CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE. 707 luatic writings, — their unskilful construction and the gi;ni;ral want of eohcronce in their parts. Pcriiajjs the most free from tiiis defect of ail his plays is that entitled ' Lust's Dominion.' liiAt the best idea of Mar- lowe's powers, and also of his weaknesses, will be Ibrmed from his ' Faustus.' This play wiis always a favourite in those days, wiien witchcraft and magic were more implicitly believed in than now. It contains a good deal of low buffoonery and bomb;ist, but has many passages of extraordinary ])owcr, and one scene in particular of tren)eii- dous interest, from which we must be allowed to quote rather fully: — ( The clock strikes elcuin.J Faust. Oh, Faiistus! Now hast tliou Imt one baro hour to live, Ami thi;ii thou must bo dainiiM periictnally. Slaiid still, }ou uver-iuoviiif; spheres ol'heav'ii, That time may cease, aiul midnight never come. Fair nature's eye, rise, rise again, and make Perpetual day ; or let this hour be but a year A month, a week, a natural day. Tile Faustus may repent, and save his soul. O lente lenle currite noctis trjiil ! The stars move still, time runs, the clock will strike. The devil ^vill come, and Faustus must be damn'd. Oh, I'll leap up to heav'n ! — Wiio pulls me down V See where Christ's blood streams in the firmament: One drop of blood will save me: oh, my Clirist! Rend not ni) heart for naming of my Christ ; Yet will I cull on him. Oh, spare me, Lucifer! — VVliere is it now ? — 'lis gone? And see, a. threatening arm, an angrj- brow. JVlountains and hills, come, con;e, and fall on me. And hide me from the heavy wrath of heav'n ! No ! Then will I headlong run into the earth : Gape, earth! — O no, it will not liarbour me. Yon stars, that reigned at my nativity. Whose influence hath allotted death and hell. Now draw up Faustus, like a foggy misl, Into the entrails of ) on labouring cloud ; That, when jou vomit forth into the air, My limbs may issue from your smoky mouths: But let my soul mount and ascend to heav'n. ( The watch strikes.) Oh ! half the hour is jiast : 'twill all be past a.ioii. Oh ! if my soul must sulier for my sin. Impose some end to m} incessant pain. Let Faustus live in hell a thousand years, A hundred thousand, and at last be saved : No end is limited to damned souls. Why Wert thou not a creature wanting soul ? Or why is this immortal that tliou hast? Ah I Puhagoras' metemsycosis ! were that true. This soul should 11} from me, aiid I be thang'd Into some brutish beast. All beasts are happy, for when they die, 'I'heir souls are soon dissolv'd in elements ; Hut mine must live still to be plagued in liell. Curs'd be the parents that engendered me ! No, Faustus, curse ihjself, curse Lucifer, That hath depriv'd thee of the joys of heav'n. { The cluck strikes Iwclre.J It strikes, it strikes ! now, bod)', turn to air, Or Lucifer will bear thee quick tJ hell. '58 LITERARY SERIES. [Fouinu O soul! be charig'd into small w.-iter-drcps, And fall into the ocean ; ne'er be I'ound. {Thunder.) Enter the Devils. Oh ! merey, heav'n, look not so fierce on me! Adders and serpents, let me breathe awhile! Ugly hell, gape not ! Come not, Lucifer! — I'll burn my books ! — Oh, Mephostopholis ! \^Exei'.nl, Enter the Scholars. " 1st Scho. Come, gentlemen, let us go visit Faustus, For such a di'eadful night was never seen Since first the world's creation did begin ; Such fearful shrieks and cries were never heard ; Fra\' heaven the doctor have escaped the {langer! 2(1 Scho. Oh, help us, heavens I see, here aie F:iustus* limbs. All torn asunder by the hand of death. 3d Scho. The devils who Faustus served have torn him thus; For, 'twixt the hours of twelve and one, melhought I heard him shriek, and cry aloud for help; At which self-time the house seeiu'd all on fire, With dreadful horror of these damned fiends'' BORN CIR. \. D. 1563. — DIED A. V. 1596. The century that immediately followed the death of Chaucer consti- tutes the most stormy period in the annals of England. The ill-estab- lished usurpation of the house of Lancaster, shaken by repeated insur- rections, even during the life of its able founder, and illustrated rather than invigorated by the brilliant career of his heroic son, became at last, under the feeble sceptre of the sixth Henry, only a watch-word for awakening the fury of a divided population, and stirring the atrocities of a contest, which, whether we look to its protracted and exhausting fluctuations, or to the savage and unsparing character of its ever reci- procating barbarities, is without a parallel among all the great national tragedies that have at any other time spread bloodshed and desolation over our land. It was not till the tyranny of Richard was overthrown at Bosworth, and Henry VH. had united in his own favour the sutfrages of all the parties in the state by his marriage with the only remaining daughter of the house of York, that men could be said to enjoy so much as a breathing time from the work of mutual slaughter, either in tlu- Held or on the scaffold. " This," says Hume, speaking of the battle of St Alban's, in 143.5, " was the first blood spilt in that fatal quarrel, which was not finished in less than a course of fifty years, which vva.-- signalized by twelve pitched battles, which opened a scene of extraor- dinary fierceness and cruelty, is computed to have lost the lives oi eighty princes of the blood, and almost entirely annihilated the ancient nobility of England." It is not to be wondered at that, amid the dis- traction of a time such as this, the voice of song was silent. 'J'he ears of men were too much occupied with other notes to be in tune for lis- tening to those of the poet's lyre. With the exception, accordingly, ol the obscure names of Occleve and Lydgate, and a mob of other mere versifiers still less deserving of attention, the history of English poetry is a blank from the death of Gower, the contemporary and friend of I'liuiou.] SPENSER. 759 Chaucer, in the bof^uiviing ofthi' I5th century to the appearance of Lord Surrey ;iiid Sir Thomas VVyatt, more tluin a hundred and fifty years after. Tlic publication of the ])oems of these two brotiier-bards was foll' — to be put back to-morrow; To lend on hope — to pine ^^ith fear and sorrow ; To have tliij Prince's (/race, ijel wtml her Peer a I 5 D 762 LITERAEY SERIES. [Fourth To have thy asking, yet wait many years ; To fiet thy soul with crosses and with cares ; To eat thy heait with comfortless despairs; To fawn, to crouch, to wait, to ride, to run, To spend, to give, to want, to be undone. Unhai)py wight ! horn to disastrous end. That doth his life in so long tendance spend." In other places the allusion to the circumstance of the royal bounty being intercepted on its way to him by the opposition of some indivi- dual minister, is even more direct than it is in the couplet which we have printed in Italics. Soon after the publication of his poem, if not before it had actually issued from the press, Spenser appears to have returned to Ireland. The Fairy Queen was admirably suited to the taste of that splendid and romantic age, and, as soon as it appeared, was everywhere read with entlmsiasm. Such was tlie popularity of the author, that Ponsonby, his publisher, immediately exerted himself to collect all the other poetical pieces he could any where find written by the same pen, and, in 1591, published the ' Ruins of Time,' ' Mother Hubbard's Tale,' and several other compositions of Spenser's together, in a quarto volume, under the title of 'The Complaints.' It is not ascertained that any of these poems, with the exception of that entitled ' Muispotmos,' had appeared in print before. They rather seem, indeed, to have been collected by Ponsonby from various individuals in whose hands they remained in manuscript. He regrets that he had not been able to recover a con- siderable number more of tlie author's productions, which he was desirous of adding to his collection. Spenser seems to have paid ano- ther visit to London about the close of this year or the commencement of the following. The dedication prefixed to his ' Daphnaida' is dated London, January, 1591-2. That of his 'Colin Clout's come Home x^gain,' addressed to Raleigh, is also dated the 27th of December, 1591 ; but this is acknowledged on all hands to bean error of the press. The poem in question, which was accompanied by an elegy on Sidney, under the name of Astrophel, certainly did not appear till 1595, and the dedication should no doubt be dated eithei in that year or in 1594. In 1595, also, appeared a collection of sonnets, entitled ' Amoretti,' by our author, which he had sent over for publication from Ireland. They are eighty-eight in number, and contain the history of his courtship of his wife, an Irish girl of great beauty, but humble birth, whom he had just married. There is great uncertainty as to the date of Spenser's marriage ; and some of the writers of his life indeed tell us that he had been married for the first time long before this, and that the person celebrated in the sonnets — of whom little more is known, except that iier christian name, like that of his mother, was Elizabeth — was, in fact, his second wife. This statement, however, rests upon very in- sutbcient evidence, and has been generally rejected as incorrect. Mr Todd's conclusion is, that the sonnets were written during the years 1592 and 1593 ; and that the nuptials of the poet and his bride were probably celebrated at Cork on St Barnabas' day, 1594, as seems to be intimated in the poem entitled ' The Epitlialamion,' which appeared along with the ' Amoretti.' Be this as it may, we find Spenser again in England in the latter part of the year 1596; the dedication to the queen of his four hymns on Love and Beauty I'EiuoD.] SPENSER. 763 boing dated at Greenwich in September of that year. Soon lifter a[)pcarc!d his ' Prothalamion,* a poem on tiie marriage of the ladies Elizabeth and Catherine Somerset; and, in the same year, the second part, consisting of tiirce more books of his Tairy Quien, togetiier with a new edition of the hrst. It was during this visit also that he pre- sented to tiie Queen ins prose dialogU(>, entitled, 'A- View of the State of Ireland ;' and the work seems to have been written while he was in ICnghind. The ' View of Ireland' remained in manuscrifit till it was printed in Dublin in IG^'J, under the superintendence of Sir James Ware. It is in the preface of this work, by the editor, that the story was first given to the world of the loss of \he concluding six books of the Fairy Queen, by the carelessness of a servant to whom the author had committed them to be conveyed to England for jiublication. The truth of this anecdote has been much doubted. The only fragments of the remainder of the Fairy Queen that ever appeared are the two unfinished cantos on Mutability, being a part of the Legend of Constancy, which was tirst published in the folio edition of 1G09. Spenser returni'd to Ireland in 1597, and such v.as the political credit which he had now attained, that it appears he was in 1598 re- conniiended by the crown to be sherifi" of Cork for the following year. But before this dignity had been conferred upon him a convulsion 0(;curred in his adopted country, which suddenly laid all his prosperity in the dust. Iti October 1598, the famous insurrection against the English authorities, known by the name of Tyrone's rebellion, broke out, and instantly covered a great part of the land with confusion and deso- lation. Spenser was one of the chief suHerers. Drummond of Haw- thornden, in his notes of his conversation with Ben Jonson, has preser- ved the account which the latter gave him of the great poet's misfor- tunes. According to Jonson, all his property being plundered or de- stroyed, and his house set on fire, he narrowly escaped with his -wife and his two eldest sons from the Hames. An infant was letb behind and burned to death among the ruins. The homeless fugitives con- trived to make their way to England, and arriving in I>ondon took up their lodgings at an inn in King-street, Westminster. But the un- happy poet's heart was broken by the terrible blow he had received. It can hardly be supposed that in this emergency, he was altogether deserted either by his numerous and powerful friends, or by the govern- ment by which his political importance had been lately so distinctly acknowledged. We cannot therefore give credit to the story which has been told, that he Avas actually allowed to perish of want, and that when at last the earl of Essex sent him a sum of money, he declined accept- nig it on the ground that he could not now live to spend it — as if" had he and his family been in this necessity, it would not have been of use to his wife and his children whom he was to leave behind him. He died however at the inn above-mentioned, in January 1598. However much he may have been neglected during the last days of his life, no sooner had his breath departed than rank and genius pressed foi-ward together to honour his memory. The earl of Essex charged himself with the expenses of his funeral ; and he was interred in Westminster Abbey, in a grave excavated close to that of Chaucer, the jjrincipal poetical writers of the day attended the solemn ceremony, and threw upon the cotiin copies of elegies which they had composed upim the '''64 LITERARY SERIES. [Fotirth death of iheir great departed chief. Spenser was thus only about forty-five years of age when he died — although the epitapli on his monu- ment, which says that he was born in lolO, and died in 1596, would give him a life of not much less than twice that extent. This monu- ment, however, was not erected till more than thirty years after the death of the poet, at the expense of the countess of Dorset, who, as well in this case as in that of her other monument which she caused to be placed over the remains of the poet Daniel, at Beckington in Somer- setshire, seems to have left both tlie composition and the cutting of the inscription to the stone mason she employed, who, although possessed of great skill in the latter art, was but an indifferent hand at the former. This blunder, we believe, was first noticed and corrected by Fenton in his notes to Waller's poems.' Spenser's wife is understood to have sur- vived him for some time : and both his sons, Sylvanus and Peregrine had descendants, Mr Todd, writing in 1805, states that a lady lineally descended from the poet was understood to be then alive, and to be married to a gentleman named Bunne, who held or had recently held some situation in the custom-house at London. Some years before this, others of his descendants are ascertained to have been living in Ireland. The Fairy Queen, unfinished as it is, will ever be regarded as one of the noblest productions of the English muse. You cannot peruse a page of it without perceiving by the hues of gold and forms of loveli- ness that are around you, that you have left far behind this prosaic earth, and are wandering in an elysium beautified with the glow and perfumed with the fragrance of brighter flowers than those of this world. The creations of Spenser have all of them a sunshine of their own, whose flush could have been born only of a soul that was all poesy. The reader of Spenser always feels that it is a poet who speaks to him, and that it is the muse's purest inspiration wherewitli his soul is holding her high companionship. But he only who has perused the M'hole of the Fairy Queen, can apprehend the full dimensions of that gigantic genius which has lavished upon it so unsparingly the str(>ngth of all its attributes, and overloaded it, not in a few painfully elaborate passages, but throughout almost the whole of its dazzling extent, witii such insuperable magnificence and beauty. It is tlius only that we can appreciate the boundless fertility of that invention which almost seems to us scarcely to have left a single phantom in the whole universe of allegory unsketched, and which not merely in those delineations, but in all its other achievements, piles up its circumstances of novelty and variety with a liberality which it were injustice to call any thing else than altogether inexhaustiijle, and a grandeur of design and gorgeous- ness of colouring which it almost tires the eye and fatigues the imagina- tion to contemplate. It is this creative sorcery, we repeat, which con- stitutes Spenser's loftiest endo\^-ment. ' Stfap. ei, edit, of 1750. l'Kr;i(>i).l IlEGTNALD SCOTT. 705 llctjinnltr ^tott Dllvl) A. I). l.jDf). REGi>fALD or Reynold Scott, was the son of John Scott, Esq. of Scott's hall near Snieetli in the county of Kent, where it ispntbable he was born about the middle of the sixteenth century, but the precise date of his birth does not appear. He is chiefly remarkable in the his- tory of his country for having effectually counteracted the popular no- tions which prevailed till his time concerninntion of practising it, having ex])ectations of an anipl(> ))atriinony. He became a rcjjresentative in parliament for Westmoreland, in the 4th and 5th years of Queen iVIary. About the j'ear 1557, lie sketched the plan of a jjoem, and wrote the introiluetion to it, under the title of ' TIk; Mirrour of Magistrates ' It was intended to comprehend a view of all the illustrious but unfor- I tunate characters of English history, from the Concjuest downward, lie found leisure to complete only what he called the Induction and one legend, or the Life of Henry Stafford, duke of Buckingham. The design was committed in its completion to other hands. Some years after, he produced a tragedy, entitled ' Gorboduc,' which was per- formed in the Inner temple, and afterwards before Queen Elizabeth with great applause. Its popularity was probably increased by the courtly polities which it taught. About the year 1557, he married a lady, his own kinswoman, with whom he passed the whole of his sub- sequent life. During the first years of Queen Elizabeth's reigns, he became member of parliament for Sussex, and afterwards for Bucking- hamshire. After this he went abroad, owing, it is believed, to his extravagant mode of living in his youth, by which his affairs had be- come embarrassed. His father died in 15G6, while he was at Rome, and confined to a prison, but for what cause is not known. His libera- tion was, however, soon after obtained, and he returned to England to take possession of his large inheritance. In the following year, he re- ceived the honour of knighthooil, and was raised to the peerage by the title of baron of Buckhurst. He was selected in 1570, on account of his character and accomplishments, by Queen Elizabeth, to head an embassy to the court of Charles IX. of France, to compliment that monarch on his marriage with the daughter of the Emperor Maximil- ian. His taste for magnificent display on this occasion again embar- rassed him with heavy debts. He was afterwards employed on several important missions to foreign courts. One of these, which was design- ed to inquire into the complaints of the Low Countries against the earl of Leicester, was the occasion of his being confined to his own house. The reports which he brought nome were so displeasing to the royal favourite, that che queen forbade him the enjoyment of his liberty for nine months. On the death of Leicester, he was, however, immedi- ately r(>leased. Such was the spirit of submission to royalty in this chivalrous age, that Lord Buckhurst, upon the testimony of his chap- 'ain. Abbot, during all this period, refused to see either wife or child. But the removal of Leicester made way for the promotion of Buck- hurst. In 1589, the queen conferred upon him the order of the gar- ter, and employed her royal will to procure for him the chancellorship of Oxford, in opposition "to the earl of Essex, whom, though another new favourite, she occasionally took a delight in humiliating. While residing at Oxford as chancellor, the queen honoured him with a visit of several days. In 1598, Lord Buckhurst was united with the trea- surer Burleigh in negotiations for a peace with Spain, and subsequently Collin's Diet. — Aiken's Bioc— Waluole's Royal and Noble Authors. l'Kuu)u.J JOHN DEE. 769 He that so often had, with gohl and wilt. Injured strong law, and almost eonqiiereil it, At length Cor want of evidence to shewe. Was I'oreeil liiinself tu take u dc'