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t7*'ry 0- /?7l r *tf * 

I V t !->»:.'/ i J 'i-ti.i s.^ .^. » |-jv^|«>^ 







pwse anU eaer«e: 



CHARACTERS, &c. &c. 


VOL. I. 




W"hEN the following Collection was first sug- 
gested^ it was intended that it should consist en- 
tirely of original matter^ arranged under certain 
heads ; so that, at least, it would have some 
title to order and novelty^ especially as the col- 
lector was then in a situation peculiarly favour- 
able to pursuits of the kind : but a severe fit 
of sickness put an end to a plan that, in all pro- 
bability, would have had some daim on the 
approbation of the reader. 

After this general declaration. It is scarcely ne- 
cessary to enter into particulars. One part of 
the original design is kept in view ; the inser- 
tion of such papers as tend to promote virtue^ 
A3 and 


and the love of our country, which never 
glowed, perhaps, with such purity and warmth 
as it does at present, in the bosom of every true 
subject of tbe United Kingdom : a proof of the 
gratitude and good sense of the people, to ap- 
preciate the first and best gift of Heaven, 


Th^ story of Thomas Sainvitz may appear to 
some to have the air of romance ; but it is cer- 
tainly founded on fact, and faithfully translated 
from the Latin original. 



07 THB 


Anecdotes of Dr. sheridan — — x 

National Characters — — — 29 

Lifeof Thomas Sainvitz — — — 37 

The Prayer of Orpheus — — — 95 

Icelandic Witches — — — 97 

King of Prussia and Professor Gellert — 99 

Dialogue between Hands and Feet — — 106 

Duke of Medina Celi — — — 110 

The Flowers, a Poem, by T. Swift, Esq. — iia 

Peter the Great — — — 113 

Letter from William Lauder to Dr. Birch — 122 
The Cripple of Bethesda : a Poem, by the Rev. 

Alexander Montgomery — — 128 

Confession — — — . ""^ ^3^ 

Kattery — — — — 134 
Speech of Sir Richard Stott, Recorder of Berwick, 

to James Duke of York — : — 138 

Oliver Maillard — — — — 140 

Some Account of the Origin of Literary Journals 142 

Philip Duke of Orleans — — — 144 

Sir Thomas More — — — 149 



Fnor — — •— — 150 
Address to an dd black Coat on parting with it 151 
Epigram, by John Lynn^ a Journeyman Baker — 154 

Female Fortitude — — — 155 

Cambden — — - — — 156 

Edmund Spencer — — . — i^y 

John Wilmot, Earl of Rochester — — ilr. 

Letter written by William Dorrington — 158 
Curious Dedication of a Funeral Sermon, to 

Richard Cromwell — — 159 

Lines by Lord Chief Justice Hale — — 162 

by Dr. Charlton -^ — —-163; 

Baron Wallop — — — — ij. 
List Genealogle de M. Law — — 165 
The Ladies — - — — -^166 
John Dennis — — — — 169 
Duke of Sully in England — — 170 
Cardinal Wolsey — — — 172 
Doctor Magennis — -^ "*^ ^73 
Paul HeflFernan — — — — 175 
Letter from Queen Elizabeth to the Lord Trea- 
surer Burghley — — — 176 
V' General Greene — — "" ^77 
Life of Thaddeus Ruddy — — —179 
Mrs. Pilkington — — — 199 
William Salden — — — 201 
Character of a Common Fiddler — -^ 203 
Sortes Virgilianae — — . — 204 
Portrait of Bonaparte, by Mercier — — 2o6 
Curious Account of Pamphlets — — 207 
My Opinion, by Lord Dorset — — 210 
Babylon — . — — . — 21 1 




Horrid Impre^atipns 




— aift 

Verseg by Mary Queen of Scotg 

— 314. 

Earl of Essex in Denmark 

~ 21$ 

Extraordinary Petition 



— aif 

Sir Philip Percivd 



-. 2l8 

Sir Henry Sidney 



r- 22J 

Sir George Sondes's two Sons 


— 23$ 

Portrait des Frap9ois 

— 238 

Extraordinary Marriage 



^ 239 

Sir William Dawes 

— ■ 

— i*. 

EpiUph; by the Earl of Dorset 


— 249 

Letter written by the Bishop of Rochester 


bury), to Mr. Prior 


— Mt 

Countess of Shrewsbury 

— 243 

Puritanic Zeal — 



r- »*. 

Charles Macklin 

— 244 

Mr. Tavemier 



— 249 

Marshal Saxe — 

^ — 

— 250 

Bertrand du Guescjin 


~ ' 

^ ih. 

jyfonkish Superstition 

— 2S* 

Bishop Maule 


— 254 

The African Duel 

— 256 

Ignoramus Comoedia 

- 258 

Murder of Dr. Sharpe, Archbishop 

of St. Andrew's 260 

Miss Ambrose — 


— 268 

Medical Character of Dr. Warren 


— 270 

Humorous Dialogue 


^ 273 

New-England Duel 


— 276 

Congreve — 


— 277 

Blemarkable Suicide 


— 279 

Suicide — 


- 284 

J^. Boissy — 


— ^ 

— 286 


Henry TV. of France 
Canadian Indians 
Murder discovered 



— — — 289 

— — — 291 

— — — 29s 
Ouy Earl of Warwick — — ' _ 299 
American Indians — » — -^ oqq 

Epitaph on a Chymist — — , ^q^ 

on a Watch-maker — oq^ 

on Thomas Jackson, a Comedian — 306 


Remarkable Inscription — — .- 

llluminati — 

Inhabitants of Sedan 

Mr. Whitfield — — _ — 311 
Pagan Justice — — — — ji^ 
Letter written by John Locke to Ant. Coflins 316 
First Siege of Corfe Castle — — jig 
k!ing James II. ^- — — 333 
Old English Hospitality — — — ^^t 
Isle of Man — — *^ _ 2^6 
letter from Mr. Pope to Mr. Prior — • — 337 
An Irish Inventory — -r— _ j^S 
The Chaplet, a Poem, by Edmond Swift, Esq. 339 
I,etter from Sir Roger L'Estrange to Sir Christo- 
pher Calthrop _ . — — ^^.t 
Two Brothers born conjoined — — 34^ 
Curious Manuscript — — — 343 
Nicholas Hart, the great Sleeper — — 34^; 
Bishop of Derry — — - — 346 
Horrid Executions — — — 347 
Sir Arthur Brook — — — 349 
Letter written by an Indian Sachem — — 350 
The Curate's Study — — — '353 
Doctor Foster — — ^ — 356 
5 The 


The English Verb _ — _ 

Queen Elizabeth's Speech at the Dissolution of 

her Parliament in 1566 — — 

The Statesman's Academy — — 

Bristol Slave Market — — — 

Louvois, the French Minister — — 

The Rival Publicans — — — 

The Two Uncles _ _ _ 

Bishop of Ross — — — 

Doctor Bacon — — — — 

Stanislaus, King of Poland — — 

Beaujon, the Farmer General — — 

Father Aranaz — — — 

Sir W. Petty _ _ _ _ 

Medallion of John Lilborne — — - 

V' Speech of an ludian King — — 

Picture of the French — — — 

Sir W. Jones — — — — 

Primate Stone — — — . — 

Letter to the Vice-chancellor of Cambridge — 

JLetter written by Cardinal Norfolk — — 

Letter from Lord Northampton to the University 

of Cambridge — — -— 














:j. • 


... '- I... 

■:■...:■■: ^^:y .'^ Ti.- : ■; : 
• .' • : '■■•v.v 'r:;: :; -.: ■.; ,: : 

1 *. 1 

PR- SJtreRPAlj. t V 

jjfxS I heard several of. the pe«^t9 %n the. west* . 
em quarter of the county of Cavan, ^alk of Dr. 
Swift, Dr. Sheiidao, &c. it raised Q)y curiosity t 
tp know if there was any person living, who had: 
seen^ither of them ; or who could give me any 
anecdotes of them that could he depended on. 
After several inquiries, I was at. last told by 4 
young niAP? tlif^ Mr. pon. Sfaeridaxrof.Uaghten^-^ 
ghy, in the county 6{ Cavan^ had fiot only seen^. 
but was very familiar with Dr. §hcridi^a^ af he, 
was relatejEl to him; adding at the faxf^p time, 
that the said Mr. Con. Sheridan '^ was no dis^ 
grace to the name^ as he was once in good cir« 
cum3tanc^ kdpt a hospitable board, spoke Latin 
^ith fluency, and had read all the booki^.io the 
world ; bift that time had impaired his memory; 
VOL. It n and 


and Fortune^ the slippery jilt, had deduced a good 
man to a bed of straw and a mud-wall cottage, 
who had once slept on feathers, an4 lived in a 
house full of glass windows, ^h a lirick chim- 
ney.'' I found this piece of information to be 
very true. The old man rei^ived me with a great 
deal of kindness ; and when I communicated my 
wishes to him, he shook me by the hand, ap<^ 
proving of my pstrioHsm^ in effecting even the 
most trifling particulars of two men who 
would have shed lustre on any country, in any 
age. He said, he had seen St^ift only once in 
his life, had heard him speak with Mr. Richar4* 
son, vicar of the parish of Beltarbet; but at that, 
distance of time could not recollect any part of 
the conversation. He had kaowift his cousin Dr. 
Sheridan for many y<acs; and wai^ extremely 
sorry that none of his countryiMn, whom^nahsre 
had blessed with talents^ had even the vanity, 
national pride; or lotc of learning, to pay a smalt 
tribute cither in prose or verse^ to the memory of 
a*man wht)Dr Swift had honoured so m^ny years 
with his^ftfcndahip. 

'AiiiJi^. As genius is hereditary in all <he 
branches bf your family, I am not a llttie surpris- 
ed ihat^you did not discharge that sacred trust 
ycrorself ; k was a duty incuml^ent on you t^ he^ 
^g yout relative and your friend; bm^t hia two 
ROUS ire Still aliye, and tfttey at^ men of talents. 
^ z Sheridan. 

DR. SHBaiDAK. 3 

^ Shmdah. Not equal to tke&tber; and yetitfie 
Doctor, with all his talents and learning, would 
have neVer been known, but aa a mere dealer out 
of nouns and pronouns, if he had not coltiFited 
the acquaintance of Swift. £xcuae me. Sir f i>Id 
meil are like grasshoppers, they chirp to the kit ; 
in plain English, they are loquacious, especially 
when the subyect is dear to their hearL. The 
Doctor, as I have already observed, was a man 
of talents; but he was naturally indolent, and 
was content with whatever fortune threw in his 
way. He was of a very social turn ; if you placed 
him in^a arm-chair after dinner, in a snug roomi 
with a good fire, and a few pleasant companion^ 
that could tell a good story» jou made him the 
happiest man on earth. Mitres, aircli mitnes, ' and 
chrach psefennentfli vanished at a stroke of wit 
or a pun ; find I ddn*t suppose that ever he dreamt 
of any thing beyond th^ innocent enjoyment of 
the day, pt rather the night ; for he would sit 
up lor ever, if he could get any one to sit up 
with him, and hold him in conversation, even 
oa subjects that some would think beneath the 
consideration of a man of letters. As to irniaa 
ei learning; he was a man of learning for bis 
dayp He. was an excellent Greek and Latin 
scholar. I need not tell you the value that was 
placed on this species of learning in my time ; 
bqt I know the period will come^ that science. 


ihilt:b( I me^n maiiietnatics, Dec. willb« lodkjed 
ti|WL as real learning. 

jiuikor. I hope so : that period^^thatik Heaven I 
is approacfaing, . i; 

> iSkeridan:. 'Tis true, the Greeks and jRomana^ 
particularly the former, excelled in poetry, bis» 
iipfy^ and oratory. 

^ j/i^Mdr. But werelittle acquainted with experi^ 
mental philosophy; v .i * 

lA'jSheriddn. I may then say, thaiBr, Sheridap 
Htkw: all that the Greeks and Romans knew, 
fhat i% all thatTiifae could not put bis envious 
tooth upon } therefore^ I nmy call him :a .man of 

Ifetters/i . - .:. ; ;. .^ : /:... 

.^^i*rM(9f;? Undoubtedly. :; I ^ ,U ; 

I Shiridof^ And yet, when I think of the xnanper 
in which he spent his boyish days, I am surprised 
fbait he knew as' niiicbHttrhe did. The poets were 
his favourites. 

Author\ They are tlic favourites of youth, the 
&vourites of old age> in short, they are the fa- 
vourites of all men rfhey recall all the beautiful 
imager of our happiest moments, they strew the 
Ihomy path of life with rose-buds, and exhibit 
the most exalted sentiments in the most captivat- 
ing dr^s. The Muses extend their mild empire 
to th<i sciences ; and even mathematical lines and 
angles borrow new charms from the magic of 
harmoniou^'sounds : poetry, besides, assists the 
nembiry — * Sheridan. 

• .\> 


Sheridan. As spectaclea a^i^t the «ight. 
' Author. So that the Doctor was rather wild in 
his youth. : 

Sheridan. As wild as if he* had been bied ia 
the woods of America. His father kept a pfu:k 
of hounds, and if he had not parted with them 
in time^ he would have shared the fate of Actseon. 
The son, to the great mortification of the old man, 
preferred the dog-kennel to .the school; the 
sound of the horn would have roused him from 
his bed, the coldest morning in winter; and as 
the chase was all the rftge in the part of the 
country where he lived, I am realty astonished 
that a line of Lily dver stuck to his memory. He 
was not insensible, however, to the charms of 
learning; he was fond of listening to thecon* 
versation of those who had made any progress 
in letters, and would treasure up their remarks ; 
and sometimes he would make such observations 
on them as evinced, that the seeds of genius 
were sown in his mind, and that a little Cultiva* 
tion would call them into a plentiful harvest 
The father saw this, and made use of every argu- 
ment in his power, to draw his favourite son from 
tfiose pursuits and amusements that ate so con- 
genial (if I may use the expression) to the youth - 
ftjl mind. I recollect a Ij^unting song he wrote, 
when he was twelve years old ; and if it does not 
exhibit strong marks of poetical powers, it will at 
B 3 kast 

6 filt« SlIBltlDJLKr^ 

least fend to confirm what I have said, that ttitf 
chase was his favourite amasemebt. This is the 
song ; as it is the copy of a copy, perhaps the 
6rigiml has lost is much by transcription, as 
some originals have lost by translation. 

Haflc ! batk ! 1 think I hear the h6ni. 
That chides my long repose^ 
♦ The dew-drop twinkles on the thorn. 

The stream in mnsic flows. 

Hark ! hear ! I hewt black Betsy snort, 
tmpsti^t of the rein : 
L When Nature thus proclaims the sport. 

Shall man ^ry out, It's vain ? 

For this she lent the gentle hart 

The vivid lightning's speed ; 
She taught the bare hermazy art, 

Anfl wipg'd the generous sCeed* 

I^et sages then of buaian race^ 

TThe slaves of musty saws. 
Decry the pleasure of the chase. 

The fruit of Nature's laws. 
The chase supplied our ancient sires 

With food and raiment too— ^ 
Till cursM Ambition fann'd her fires, *'^ 

And bent the sounding yew. * 

Then Law stretch'd forth her artful toils, ^ 

And Cunning laid her snares ; 
And Plunder gloried in her sporls. 

And fill'd the world with cares. 


. Bui Care dare.not as ytt pursue - 
The. hunter's bounding 4ioo£; 
And if she ev^ takes a view^ 
The view «nuit be abof. 

As you seem pleased t^ith this poefical j)rim- 
fose, 1 11 present you With another^ k bud of the 
same spring. 

Ferses on a Wooden Leg. 

Divines^ especiaR^^itir old oneis^ 
Will gravely teU you^ if Aey ^re cold *•«» 
That you may fsAbcr du ihe Devil 
Each act and deted df taonrtal wil j 
His back is beoad leMugh^ iwle Irnovr^ 
To bear tfaemdl^ KlfefiiolHrd itoe* 
In ev'iy »iCOId Mdk 'b ekigag'd^ 
Yet strange totdl, iie'^s 4iH«p ci^d ; 
For he 's at Jifge, ^IA< irtiiift ikMky 
The Devil -s io^ the »D^vM ^% ouC 
Thus grave dMAes bw^iiitdeittp flills. 
To cure us of dll 4itlfftiM41k': 
If yoiT tiave Ids! ^ hotie 6rmiB§:e^ 
Then ybii'^ cat dJlTfirbte iJ6 W<A ^tw 5 
If deflfth deprives youdiP ybtrtr ^»Pife^ 
Why, there 'sah"etidto*|!llyoiiriJtrife, 
Or shou W she xroWn youir %fii>tv ^5* ^h<yms> 
Bear 'Ibem'with patiencelike your corns : 
They 've nSlfiedleli fur eadh disaster. 
For ev'ry broken bead a plaistec. 

B4 For 

For instance, ndw there 's 'Ellis Clegg^ 
You kn(^ the man has broke his kfg; 
No matter how, no matter where. 
It's known that lUlis loves the fair. / 
At first he wept, and call'd on death. 
But now be ^8 glad be kept his breath; 
What has he gain'd then by the loss ? 
To use the words of Jerry Cfoss^ 
In point of saving, let us see. 
The first great thing 'a economy: * 
He saves a Btockingand a shoe^i , ; 
And half "a pair of boots vi^ill do. 
And then, rff be sboaldrcii^e to ride^ 
O^^lliw'^s sufficient: for a> side, - 
And if that ssdd sfaduld move, you Ml find ' 
The other will : not lag behind : 
It'sea^prov'dixom Hudibtasy 
Nay, you imf^ptom lit by ypiir assi . 
What next,?. He- U S(ive'a yard of garter. 
And then the gout will catch a Tartar; 
If it shGiul4 tbirik to seise bis oak. 
How Clegg .wjU Uugb, and tell the joke ! 
We hav'b't done with savings yet. 
In wear and tare, and even trett : 
The buckle 's say'd that binds .the knee. 
Or tape JM ^bow-knots tl^ree tinies three. 
The buckle^% sav'd tbatbin4.s the shoe. 
And any buckle novf will do ; 
Provided it wi{l bold the latchet, 
I'here 's no occasion. Sir, to match it j^ 
'Odd buckles sell for one third price. 
So there 's a saving in k trice. 



Then soap and washing 'a sav'd, you sec, 
Upon the wooden deputy ; 
Though if you judge by shoe and shirt, 
Clegg seems to like a little dirt ; 
And it will serve him all his life. 
To bear him up, or beat his' wife. 
Another thing, if he should beg. 
There 's nothing like a wooden leg J 
And when he moves vipon his pins. 
He 's not afraid of broken shins : 
Besides, he stands a fourth relation 
To ev*ry blockhead in the nation. 
And ev'ry place of public trust 
Is fill'd with all these blockheads first. 
Now, reader, if you please we'll stop. 
And moralize upon the prop. 
What is a leg of flesh and bone ? ' 
If well proportioned, I must own 
It adds new bcaulies to the fair. 
And always marketable ware. 
Like ev'py othcr.charm, th«y last 
Until the honey-moon is past; 
With ^gt they «hrivcl and they shrink. 
And then, alas \ what must we think ? 
Sure it should mortify our pride. 
To think the best are thrown aside. 

But our youthful poet, if I may presume to 
call him by that name, did not waste all the 
precious moments of his syntax-days in hunting 
after butterflies, or collecting the flowers that 
grew in every hedge ; he could be serious on 
.7 ^ occasions; 

occasions t I don't say that be could be serious 
tvhen he pleased, nor yet gay when he fleased ; 
for I might as well say, that we can deep when 
we please, or dream wheli we please. About 
thirteen years oif age, he used to write otice or 
twice a week, or oftener, a few lines on any 
subject that struck him, in the English lan- 
guage, in order to enable him to speak and write^ 
if not with felicity> at least with facility, in that 
tongue, which w^snotv becoimng feshionable, 
in consequence of the excellent poets that called 
forth all the vigour and copiousness of it. These 
exercises were written at the desire of his father, 
for whom he always entertained the most filial 
afiection. I have lost them all except this one : 


*• As jfffliction one day sat on (he sea-shote, she 
leaned her head on lifer hand, and seemed -to cast 
her eye at a distance on the swelling ocean ; wave 
succeeded to wave, and tear after tear stole down 
her pallid cheek ; the polished pebbles, inter- 
mingled with shells of fading colours, drew her 
attention, whilst her imagination traced a variety 
of pictures in the fortuitous assemblage. As Af- 
fliction has amusements, as well as other aifec- 
. lions of the mind, she traced a figure on the 
shining sand, with a branch of willow, which 
she called Man. Jupiter happened to pass that 


DR* SHkRlDAlTi / rt 


t^ay, abd was so struck with the ea^e and pitf- 
poftion of the lineaments^ that he inspiifefl thb 
figure with life. A contest now arose'; the £arth 
claimed the image, as having furnished the ma« 
terials that composed it ; Afiticttbn cried out^ 

* It IB mine ; your materials were o( ti6 value 

* till I traced the form 2* when Jupiter pre- 
ferred his claim, as having called it into life 
and motion. The gods having heard efvery ar- 
gument the claimants could -urge, pronounced 
this solemn decree : ^ Man shall be the property 
' of AifHictiofi during his life ; when he ceases to 
^ breathe, the materials of which his frame is 
^ composed shall return to earth, andiiis spirit to 

* Jupiter that gave it*. " 

My memory begins to fail mc; I now re- 
collect that I have aome more of the Doctor*s 
juvenile productions, but I, am afraid I shall 
fatigue you. 

Author. On the contrary. Sir, you afford tiit 
a great deal of pleasure. 

Sheridan. Stay, let me sec : — the paper was 
written in imitation of a dialogue in Petrarch, 
otteof my friend's favourite writers ; he had him 
aH hy rote. 

^ Auihor. An additional proof of his taiite; Pe- 
trarch may be justly ranked in the first class 


tz 0r; sherioakC 

of those that revived the learning of the mn* 

Sheridan. He was the morning-star of Italian 

Author. And one of the brightest in the con- 
stellation that afterwards shone iA that indul- 
gent elimate, 

*^ The willing caj)tivc of Aonian toils/' 

The Staleii Wife. 

Sorrow. A young fellow has stolen my wife. 

Reason. Young men are prone to that species of 
robbery. I am ibrry to obferve that in this age 
I have very little influence over the mind of 
the youth of both sexes ; I wish I may have some 
influence over yours at present, for I see you are 
very much affected. You must consider this mat-* 
' ter. Was she young and handsome ? 

Sorrow. Both. 

Reason. Two great temptations. You married 
her for her beauty ? 

Sorrow. I did* 

Reason. yo\i should h^ve reflected, that the 
season of youth and beauty is short, and that 
both fly off together : the woman that won your 
affections, was sensible, no doubt, that she could 
win tho^e of another ; and some of that frail sex 



Dit. SHERIDAN. fj 

mie as ambitious of lovers after they havft pntercd 
into the married state as before it. Was she fond 
of dress? 

Sorrow. Passionately \ she would spend hquts 
together at her tpilet. 

BM$om. Erery time she looked in her glass^ 
she thought she saw. the face (>f an angel in it^ 
and perhaps she thought that an angd ought 
n^ to.^nploy her domestic afiaiis. Was 
sbr fond, of romances \ 

'-SlQrrow. She would sit up all night i:eading 
' Reason^ .Then of course she slept all day ? 

Sorrow^ A considerable part of it. 

Reasmi. Then, as to her temper ? 

Sorrow. Capricious. ^ . 
' Reason. .Extravagant i 

Sorrop^. My purse was at her command. 

Reasofu And she exhausted it ? 

Sorrow. Frequently: 

Reason. Now let us cast up the account^ and 
see ^hat you have lost^ and what you have 
gained* In |he first place^ you married a 
woman for her beauty, a short-lived flower; 
and she married you for your wealth, which 
could scarce gratify her vanity and extrava- 
gance ; you thought you too)c an angel to your 
arins ; but the result has proved that there are 
fallen angels. Instead of consulting your hap^ 


14 2>B^ SHEHlDAir^ 

pioessi sfcg • poisoned it ? instead ofpooifeg iM 
halm olcoDdfcilation into y^Ori vaxni^K^heR it wian 
afflicted^ she poured a torrent of words- into 
your ears r she consulted her glass^^tener tHan 
she consulted your countenance ; her nigbtsf we;fb 
i^petitjti reading ^romances^: so that ber bestd was 
£lled WUi^» iMagiiiaiy adventures^ and heroes 
that tiever ^ftisTted : sucfa si diBfencetesS'Cafttle was 
easfly besi^6d. Why/ if yoU view' jftl thi^with 
an indifferent eye, instead '^f'^ a loss^ ywa hin^ 
gained. If a physician -cured you of a tertian 
fever, you would reward him with thanks and 
moneys uviA wbAt should be the reward of that 
physician wkb has rid you of a quotidian fever ? 
Your mind will he np longer distracted with the 
caprices of a woman, whose temper was) not 
even to be regulated by the weathercock, and 
whose tongde ^trtd run for hours together with- 
out winding up ; you will be no longer besieged 
by a train of milliners and perfumers. Little you 
know how fnuch you are indebted to him that 
carried off such a disease. If he was your friend, 
pity him; if he was your enemy^ rejoice. You 
ere now restored to your health, and a httle time 
and r^fkbtion will restore you to your senses. 

Sarr&w^ I caD*t restrain my tears. 

Reason. If carri^ away by force, forgive her j 
butif wtllingly? 


Sorrow. Willingly: she stole off with bet 
gallant in the dead of night. 

Reason. Many a man would pray for aach a 
nighty and hail the annual return of it witli 
feasting and music. 

Sorrow. My unhappy wife went off williogly. 

Beason. If she k>ved yoq^ she would not have, 
done so; hMr tlien can you weep for a womanr 
that is un w6rthy of your affection ? 

Sorrow, My unhappy wife ! • 

.Reason. Truly she will be unhappy, and be 
that stole her more so; repentance quickly treads 
on the heels of unlawftil appetite. But you 
should remember, that this is an injury kin^ 
could not escape ; for Masinissa stolo aWfty the 
wifeof Syphax, and Herod stole away tihe wife 
of Philip, and Menelaus had two wfres, and 
they were both stolen. 

^ ^2<M(^. Iremember the dialogue in Petrarch ; 
and I think the master would not be displeased, if 
living, with the additions of the pupil. Perhaps 
there is not a paffage in the Italian, that maybe 
iiesorted to with more practical advantage. 

Sheridan. Why, it is certain, that the youth of 
this country steal away young women, with their 
own consent, a circumstance almost excusable. 

jif4fior. There arc many apologies for the in- 


disdreiibns of the youth of both scxfes. I forget 
who it is that says, " Youth is a continual feyer.'* 
-* Sheridan.: I don't forget that I was once young 
myself ^ and though I am of the Rotfii^h persua- 
sion, I never could accede to the custom that, 
preyails in that church, of ooniining young men 
and warned in the walls of monasteriies and nun- 
teiiesv contrary ta tbej^ws qfmittute^ reasou» 
and even sound iX>licy ;. it originates it> pride, la4; 
ziness, and perhaps;s6me trivial dis^ppoiptxpenit : 
t^^ ^Qrld is a iSeld Of l>attle> gnd the £rst tl)at 
^kijiMji a cpwardjaj}4 ^^^^^f ter. 

u^«/^^. True, it; ii:jt ^cld pfbattte, in whicl^ 
fpw arPigftctors^ . j >:; 
. S kfi^K WeH^-^^yj; ;K5 I sec ypu have a good 
stock:9j| patience, I '11' read you some lines which 
are conlie^ted with th^ sul^ect wq have touphed. 
on, which I did not think tigie had spared ; they, 
were written by my ix>usin, on an occasion that 
will be iong remembered in this part of jthc 
island ; ?nd as pofts S}icceed best in 'fiction, per- 
hap^s^iaadfiitipn to his youtl^, the best apology 
will be to ^spre you, that they arc founded in, 
truth. They wei:e written on my brother, a very 
worthy man ; who had the happiness of Uying 
and dying ii;x the bosom of a fine family pf chil- 
dren, five sons and six daughters ; blessed with 
common senscj and an education that every day 

Paddy s 

DR. SRERIDAir. 17 

Taddys Choice. 

Young Pat was heir to fourscore cows. 

Five hundred sheep, and sixty sows. 

Two lordly bulls, four breeding mares, 

A house with half a flight of stairs. 

Well thatch'd and plaister'd round with clay. 

Of different colours, blue and gray. 

As snug as any thrush's nest : 

Proceed, dear muse, and tell the rest. 

Before you bring him on the stage. 

Pray tell the reader Paddy's age : 

Just twenty-four-r-I think you're right. 

For I .was told the same last night. 
.The gods to honest Pat were kind 

In gifts of body and of mind ; 

For he coiild read, and write, and sing. 

And touch with art the trembling string ; 

The foremost in the fight or chase. 

And never known to lose a -race ; 

In wrestling skill'd ; oh muse divine. 

Around his rival how he'd twine ! 

His legs well made, a better pair 

Was never seen at any fair, 

Proportion'd well in ev'ry part, 

And add to this a gen'rous heart. 

As yet our swain ne'er thought of love; 

Youth, like the bee, delights to rove 
. From flower to flower, from tree to tree : 

Oh Cupid ! mind thy just decree. 

Prepare thy bow, evince thy power. 

And wound the breast that wounds a flow(!r. 
VOL. I. c Let 


Let ndt the wretch 'scape like the bee. 
And lay the ftult on destiny. 
This was not Paddy's case I own ; 
Sometimes he thought to lie alone 
Was not so pleasant as it might. 
Provided every thing went right. 
That half a bed, an honest soul. 
Was often better than the whole. 
Provided Sally fill'd the other; 
Why not. as well as her fair mother ? 
With thought? like these amus'd one nighty 
He sunk to rest, his sleep was light: 
He dreamt, and in the pleasing trance 
He thought be saw a nymph advance 
With swimming mien and measured pace j 
Her locks were boUnd with silver lace. 
And deck'd with buds of ev'ry hue. 
The panfy pale, the violet blue ; 
The lightest summer cloud her veil. 
While vestments floating on the gale. 
With trembling dew-drops sprinkled o'erj 
^The like was never seen before, 
Pat thought at first §he was the queen 
, Of love, or goddess of the green j 
At all events resolv'd to wait. 
With courage like a man, his fate. 
He wasn't held in long suspense^; 
There's nothing like the present tense; 
In love, at teast, it is the best. 
For time, you know, destroys the zest. 
With honied words, and accents mild. 
Conducted by fair Venus' child, 



** I 'xnf come to offto yott wy )^4^ , , 

Not for the sake of ,h9U3e .or ]m^. 

For 1 despise yQiv (Jrrty: pelf, . . 

I love you only for yp^rstlf f ' . !. . 

Your genVous wqrth tw & ^d pay V^U ; : V. 

Forgive— my eyes will tejl^henwt.... . . | 

Thgt il^ecy coat I 'U quiqkly cb*ng«^ 
With cpws and ^beegp no xnoi^^you 'JJ rwgiCi r 
Your hair wit^ x\b^^i aijiall be hoi^id, j 
Your hat with rps^s ^ck'd.tibirice jound^ - 
9 Your ho^i^un >bofe shall yield to sUk^ . . 
Your ^oti^ as wjiiite^ a9 snow or qs^jfc ; . . 
Potatoes Yilg sti^l yidd. to truces, > i : •» 
And wr^tbwd^arf^V^Sft^owing ru%sj _ 
Wax taper^ «l^l.ftl^9.. jr0ui»4 ia br^sj^ , .; 
Ai^ wooden /^i%|^>||il|fSdMy:IO.gIasS:^^^^^ 
I^at heard with ^^srpndery we Ml supppse./ 
At ey'rjl g^ze new chj^opis ^Mrosq ^^ 
He pre^'d h^,i^,, b>}t was^raf4:. ...:; .7 

To kifis so bright^ so/fiix imaiJl. . / ; : ./ 
His brea^ w^ '$U'd jv^itibr ^ofjt alftrms- } ^ ; 
She knew the nmgiQ. pf her charms; . , 
And left him tor^gtiwrhile, ■ r- ■ 
Then softly vm^sh'd i^,a smile. ^ 

That h^ might have his choice of t^vo^ ^ 

Another jiwtjippe^r '4^ w.vifl^r, ^^ , r, 

That was nojt.fijt to fe^. b^ msttd, , 
In point of .dr^SiS, so cparse array 'dj , ^ 
£^er coat was poplin^ hotpe-made stu^ 
Her stockings Mue^ and somewhat rough; 
But there was something, in Jb^r eyes 
That might commaiid.ith^l richest prize; 

c z But 

But modesty foftidcfbcifrial, ■- -'-^ ' ' 
And ev'ry Idok^pdkeicif-detiiaK *' 
Her modest eye, 'stead of her tongi^. 
Spoke thus, as by the fairies sung : \ 
" Ydiiig-Pat, I see ytnir heart is won ; ^ '- 
If so, poor Sheta IS 'undone: 
Your house, that braved thevnidest'St<3fnv»^ • 
Must change, alas 1 its (Jeasing form y - 
Your lo^ks, that wanton in' the wihd^ ■ ^f '' 
The gaudy rrbaond now must bind ; 
Your khie and 'swine must all be sdd, -» ' • 
And wooden cJtips exfchang'd for gold; 
Your father's Homely chc6r you '11 quit, ' 
The plain roast joint and Wooden spit ; ■ ' 
Potatoes must iiot shew4heir face^ ^ .' -^ ' 
And whiskey sink iriij?* disgrace. ^:. A 

But say, dear Pat, ^hen all is past, : j T 
How long you thihk thb game will I«^ J- - — 
When all is spent,* arid friendship fied^ "^ ; ' -i 
Will beauty iservef you in its stead ? >i ■ 

Or will the fair, Whosepride is dress, i- 1 

Remain with^ybii itf'dfeep distress ? - - ^ ^^ 
In such a case, What would -you do? - '^ ^^^'A 
I 'd live, and Ibvc^ -aiSSi die^^lh you J' ^ •* ^ 
AtnightlMtritn the little fifre,., ' .i . mI 
And knit yoursfeckillgs on ftf*fe wire^ !^: ;i 
I'd stuff your' punips with softest -hay," -' ' 1 
And harijg your hat out of the way ; ^ ; : . I 
From ^ry bush "I 'd- fAwik the Wbol> ' .:i' 
Aftd.wh<?n I-'d haVfe *i^y apfolk fiijl, . - . .! • 
I'd spin it (^6iy1k%'ritd wheel, . ' j 

And wniff it on a 'hand^cross. reel | i * i- ' 


In hciath well dy'd a purple blacky 
Ho)v it wo|ild shine upon your back ! . ^ 

"And when you went at night to bed, 
I 'd wash your shirt, and bind your head. 
With verdant moss I *d fill your pillow; 
And wreath the window with a willow; 
Green rushes on the floor I *d strew. 
And thus I M live and die with you. 
If fate should bless us with d race, 
J *d trace the father in each face." 
Pat paus'd a while, and Shela stood 
like the pale primrose in the wood. 
The youth advancM, and seiz'd her hand, 
And kissM it thrice at love's command. 
He wakM, and knew where Shela dwelt ; 
Her eyes confest the pangs she felt : 
Hymen was ready with his torch, 
And led them to the-sabred porch. 

More last words — ^I didn't think I had this pa- 
per; I kept it, because it is in his hand- writing ; 
that 's a fine flowing band. 

Author. It is : our age, nay, our disposition, 
may be known from our hand-writing. 

Sieridan. In our age our letters appear as if they 
went on crutches. I remember the circumstances 
that gave birth to this recipe, as the Doctor called 
it. In the Christinas holidays, the schoolboy's wel- 
come season, I forget the year, Tom and I were 
resolved to enjoy all the pleasures of it; for this 

c 3 purpoSi3 


purpose we paid a visit to a distant relation, a 
sprightly female, whd, though she had be^p 
married ten years, coutd enter into. all our amuse- 
jnents with as much spirit as any boarding-school 
miss in the kingdom. Her hu^bapd was what 
y(re called a honvivan^^ that loved his bottle and 
friend, and if hexould enjoy tlie present 'mo- 
ment, never thought of the next; and that is 
more than some of your bbasted sages could, 
notwithstanding all their ^r^^^^>«^;3/^. We were 
received in the most friendly manner by the lady, 
with that look and tone which ponveyed the cardial 
welcome ; we were conducted into a roQm., where 
we found a table ready furnished with wholesome 
viands and a bottle of sparkling champaign. 
This sun-shine was for a moment overcast by an ' 
envious cloud, that sometimes darkens the ma- 
trimonial, sky ; nay, even the inost serene. The 
husband soon after entered, when the following 
dialogue- commenced; and as there w^§ a. pep 
and ink in the room, Torrt took down every 
word, the reading of wbi6h after dinner, afford- 
ed a great deal of laughter to the loving couple, 
for in reality they were so, notwithstanding toese 
little gusts. 

Receipt h hrew a Sform^ 

Husband. Woman — ^aye ! 

Wife. You are always railing at our sex. 

5 .Htishatid. 


Hushand. And without reason ? 

Wife. Without either rhime or reason ; you *d: 
be miserable beings without us, for all that. 

Husbafid. Spmetimes : there is no general rule 
without an exception ; I could name some very 
good women — 

Wife. Without the head I suppose ? 

Husband. With a head, and with a heart too. 

Wife. That's a wonder! 

Husband. It would be* a still greater if I could 
not; for instance, there is Mrs. Dawson, the 
best of wives; always at home, whenever you 
call, always in good humour ; always neat and 
clean, fober and discreet. 

Wrfe. I wish you were tied to her. Always at 
home ! the greatest gossipper in the parish ; she 
may well smile, she has nothing to ruffle her tem- 
per ; neat and clean — she has nothing else to do; 
sober — she can take a glass as well as her neigh- 
bours ; discreet — that *s another word, she ^ can 
tip a wink — ^but I detest scandal : I am surprised 
you didn't say she was handsome ? 

Husband. So she is in ray eye. 

Wife. You have a fine eye to be sure ; you 're 
an excellent judge of beauty : what do you think 
of her nose? 

Husband. She 's a fine woman in spite of her 

fVif^. Fine feathers make fine birds ; she can 
c 4 I^aint 


paint her withered cheeks, and pencil her eye- 

Husbandt You can do the same if you please. 

tyife. My cheeks don't want paint, nor my 
eyebrows pencilling. 

Husband. True ; the rose of youth and beauty 
is still on your cheeks, and your brow the bow 
of Cupid. . 

Wife. You once thought so ; but that moving 
mummy, Molly Dawson, is your favourite. She's, 
let me see, no gossip, and yet she's found in every 
house but her own; and so silent too, when she 
has all the clack to herself; her tongue is as thin 
as sixpence with talking ; with a pair of eyes 
burned into the socket, and painted panfiels into 
the bargain ;, and then as to scandal — ^but her 
tongue is no scandal. 

Husband. Take care, there 's such a thin^ as 
standing in a white sheet !. 

IFtfe. Curse you ! you would provoke a saint. 

Husband. You seem to be getting into a pas- 

' JVif^. Is it any wonder? A white sheet! You 
ought to be tossed in a blanket. Handsome ! I 
can't forget that word : my charms are lost on 
such a tasteless fellow as yoii. 

Husband. The charms of your tongue, 

TVife. Don't provoke me, or Til fling this 
dish at your head. , 



Hushajid. Well, I have done. 

Wife. But I hav'nt done: I wish I had 
drowned myself the first day I saw you. 

Husband. It 's not too late. 

Jfye. rd see you hung first. 

Husband. You 'd be the first to cut me down. 

Wife. Then I ought to be tied up in your stead. 

Husband. I 'd cut you down. 

Wife. You would ? 

Husband. Yes, but I 'd be sure you were dead 

Wife. I cannot bear this any longer. 

Husband. Then it's time for me to with- 
draw ; I see by your eyes that the storm is col-, 

Wfe. And it shall burst on your head. 

Husband. I '11 save my poor head, if I can. A 
good retreat, is better than a bad battle. (Hus- 
band flies y the dish flies after him.) 

Author. Very well. — I must do the poet justice 
to say that he is as happy in the choice of his num« 
bers, as your brother was in the choice of his wife 5 
for as the one preferred untutored smiles, the 
blush of innocence, native beauty, and homespun 
dress, to the rolling eye that languished in humid 
fire, and the robes that flowed in careless air, 50 
the bard n^ade choice of the flowers that grew in 
his native vales, in preference to those that un- 

a6 JM,. SHERtDAN. 

Tcil their bosoms tb brighter suns : young poets 
are captivated with gaudy epithets, 

Sheridan. Yes, and old poets too. 

Author. Which evinces a want x^i taste — 

Sheridan. And judgment; for judgment is as 
necessary in poetry as in prose. 

Author. :Nay more ; Pegasus is a fipry steed. 
I hope the Doctor was as happy as your brother 
ii> the choice of his wife ? 

Sheridan. To the ftill : \ knew her very well^ 
a woman of spotless character. Miss Mac Faden ;' 
^he was descended of a Scottish family of respect- 
^ ability \ she was agreeable in conversation, pleas- 
ing in her manner; in short, she was a good girl 
and an affectionate wife : I cannot say that she 
was handsome ; she had beauty sufficient, how- 
ever, to captivate the Doctor ; and the truth is, 
he rejoiced through life in his captivity, for it 
was a gentle one. I believe I was the first he 
consulted on the subject of his marriage with that 
lady ; for he was afraid to mention it to his fa- 
ther ; who, no doubt, like all fathers, thought 
himself a better judge of an affair of so important 
^ natbre than his son himself. Be that* as it may, 
it was not the business of a day ; many letters 
passpd between the youth and the maid; they 
were written in a strain of unaffected simplicity ; 
many of thenj were shewn to me after their 


marridgCj bui I did not think it would have been 
delicate to have asked a copy of any of them ; I 
onliLjecoIlect some lines that Miss Mac Faden 
wrote, which I can repeat, for I was in those 
days as fond of reading poetry as others were 
of writing itj particularly if it flowed firom 
a female pen. Stay, let me recollect; now I te^ 
member them : I forget the occasion on which 
they were written. 

In pity first to human kind. 

Love taught the art of writing; 
But soon deceit stept in, we find. 

And taught man falie inditing. 
False vows, false words, nay e'en faj^e tears. 

Soon after were invented; 
And Love from each account appears 

Almost to have repented 
That he disclosed the magic art. 

At first for gods intended. 
By which he thought the virgin heart 

"Would be so much befriended. 

Whaitows, what sighs on paper flow. 

In words as sweet as honey ! 
They melt away like now-faJPn snow. 

In sun-shine now of money* 

Then Love with indignation saw 

His tender views defeated ; 
Traitprp unpunishM broke his Itw^ 

iSjid crime on crime repeated* 


a^^ D^. SHBBJUAK.. 

Then^.Lovc^ resume tby wonted power^ ' 

And punish ev'ry traitor; 
From Jupiter in golden shower, 

Down to ibcpeiit^maltre. > 

One thing brings another to my recdll^tion. 
Tbe'Doctor and I called one morning on Miss 
Mac Fader^, in order to take his leave of her 
for a few days, as he was to set out on a journey, 
I forget where. The young lady asked in a tone 
that well expressed more than the words^that ac- 
companied it, how long he intended to stay 
away ? to which he immecfiately answered: 

You askhow long I *H stay from thee : 

..fiup^resa those rising fears ; 
If you should reckon time like me, 
Pediaps ten thousand years. 

jiuthor. Very happy indeed. 

Sheridan. Love dictated the lines, 

^z//Zror.,Ai)d the. Muse.- 

Sheridan. The Poctor, with all fais learning, 
was not what we . call .^ popular pr^acbcp. His 
sermons were alvyays .. composed of gdod ma- 
terials, and be. Could sometimes rise with his 
subject; you may judge of bis character from 
the few fragments I have given you. 

Author. They are valuable in my sight ; I like 

to see the haoiasi^ mind nA its undress; I love 

•'. ' •■.*•■ '' ■^' " ' the 

3 • 


the early effusions of genius; especially of those 
that *^ lisp in numbers^*' and 1 am very liappy 
tba^t I called on you. * • ' 

Sheridan. In a few days it ^Mnild be too late; 
I shall soon be gathered t9 myi ftther8*-^but tlie 
passage is smo#th. 

Author. 1 see it iiS^and if there is any thing in 
my power * * *• ^f** . * •* * * ^ •!* 

# * * ^^ « « .^ « ..#. * « «F # 

(written in ^637.) 

• In Affection. 

.yHE French loveth pvery whe^q. 
JThe Spaniard very well, ; . 

The Italian knows how to love. 
The German knows not how to \fiyc. 

French courteous* 

Spaniard lordly. *'' * 

Italian amorous. 
German clownish. ^ 


The French hath itmaxily*' A r 

Spaniard so so. ^v * : .'. 

Italian uidlfrflreiid:i v/ . .. :; . 
TfaeGoroaojtalK ^^ ^ ' 

French build convthidtitly; 
Spaniard meanly. ' .p 

Italian stately. 
German strongly. 

In Clothes. 

French inconstant and changing* 
Spaniard modest/ ^ '^ »./..- . 
Italian poor. , . 7 

German mean. -* , 

.i . 'iM 

In Colour. 
French like a dkesflut. • ♦ ' 
Spaniard black. • 

Italian brown* ' 
Grerman wKift? or r'eddiih. 

I ^ ^n'Convirtution, 

The French jovial. 
Spaniard troublesome. 
Italian complying. 
German unpleasant 



In Cotthcili^ 

French hasty. ^i^ 

Spanish wary. 
Italian subtle. 
German slow. 

In Couragel 

The French as an eagle. 
Spaniard like an elephant. 
Italian as a fox. 
German as a bean 

In Dancitig*, 
The Freilch danceth. 
Spaniard walketh. , ^ 

Italian vaults. 
German walloweth himself. 

In DieL 

French delicate. 
Spaniard sparing. 
Italian sober. 
German loves drink. 

In Fevers. 

French forgets good and evil. 
Spaniard rewardeth all. . ; 

Italian ready to do good, but revengefuU _ . --^ 
German doth neither good nor evil. 

\ /« 


In Gaming. 

T^e French venturts all. 

Spaniard makes a good show with 9 bad game* 

Italian takes exceptions. 

German is often cheated. 

In Laws. 

French* hath good laws, but observes them not. 
Spaniard hath excellent laws^ and obsefveth 

them rigidly. 
Italian hath good laws^ but is remiss in the ob- 

German hath laws which are so so. 

In Learning. 

The French knows a little of every thing. 
The Spaniard hath a deep learning. 
Italian like a doctor. 
German like a pedant. 

In Looh and Mien. 

French looks like one inconsiderate^ and is 
often so. 

Spaniard like a wise man, and often is so- in- 

Italian looks giddy-like, but is wise. 

German hath seldom good look or mien^ 



hi Love. 

"the French giddy and inconsiderate. 

Spanish boaster. 

Italian noble. 

German gross and rustical. 

. In making Love. 

French diverts his mistresa. 
Spaniard adoreth her. 
Italian senreth her. 
German bestows gifts upon her. 

In Contempt of Love. 

French hasty, oiFends his mistress. 
Spanish proud, slights her. ^ 
Italian discreet, complains of her. 
German rude, asketh'for what he gave her. 

In Magnificence. 

In France consists in the court. 
In Spain in her arms. 
Italy in churches. / ' 

Germany in princes. 

In Plays. 

French pleasant and merry. 
Spanish serious. 
Italian buffoon and jester. 
German unpleasant. 

VOL. I. j> lu 


In Pride. 

The French cprnmends every thing. 
Spaniard praiseth none but himself. 
Italian despises that which deserves it. 
German is no boaster. 

In Promises. 

French light. 
Spaniard deceitful. 
Italian advantageous. 
German true and faithful. 

Ill Religion. . 

French zealous. 
Spaniard superstitious. 
Italian ceremonious! 
German indifferent. 

In Secret. 

The French tells every thing. ^ 

Spaniard very secret. 
Italian sayeth not a word. 
German forgets what he was told. * 

In Speech. 
The French sings. 
Spaniard speaks. 

Italian acts the comedy. ^ 

German howls. 



French speaks well> but writes ill. 
Spaniard speaks and writes little, but well, 
Italian speaks and writes well. 
German speaks little^ but wdtes much. 

^ In Tempmr. 


French jester and injurious. 
Spaniard grave and respectful. 
Italian pleasant and jealous. 
German lofty and fantastical. 

In mt. 

French hath it all the body over. 
Spaniard in the head. 
Italian in the arm. 
German in the finger's end. 

Concerning tlushands. 
' In Fratice companions. 
In Spain tyrants. 
In Italy gaolers.. 
In Germany masters. 

Concerning JVomen. 

In France ladies or drudges. 

In Spain slaves. 

In Italy prisoners. 

tn Germany housewives. 

*^^ DA y 



Of Servants. 

In France masters. 
In Spain subjects. 
In Italy respectful. 
In Germany companions. 

Of Horses. 

In France good for every thing, or for nothing. . 
In Spain noble. ^ 

In Italy handsome and good. 
In Gcrmaoy dull and heavy. 

In Diseases. 
The French sutgect t0 the p— . 
The Spaniard to the king's evil. 
Italian to the plague. 
German to the gout. ./' 


( 37 ) 


Written ly himself. — Translated from the Latin. 

I WRITE this in defence of my own character^ 
which has been maliciously tmduced by ignorant 
idle monks and wily lawyers, I hare been de- 
spised by the nobility on account of the obscurity 
of my birth, and envied by my own class, be- 
cause I am a lover of science. I know that lan- 
guage has been often and aptly compared to 
dress ; but it is not to be expected, that I should 
appear to any advantage in point of style : I 
never selected one epithet in my life ; and if I at- 
tempt^ it, perhaps J should pluck a weed in- 
jstead of a flower. My object is truth : — and 
nothing but the truth shall flow from my pen* 
I was born in Bistrikia in Hungary, on the third 
of March X593. My parents were very poor^ 
and could not afford to send me to school, if 
there even was a school in the neighbourhood. 
Learning was a plant at the time of little esfima- 
tlpn in my native country. A Pole, that woi-kecj 
in the mines, used to call sometimes at our little 
cottage, in preference to any other in the neigh- 
bQurhood, as my father could speak broken 14-^ 

p 3 tin 


tin with greater fluency than the rest of the pea- . 
gaqts — so that they could converse together on se- 
veral subjects. The Pole fell ill, and, as my mo- 
ther was skilled in the virtues of many plants, 
she was lucky enough to alight on one at last, 
that restored him to his health. His gratitude 
to Heaven and our family was houndless : — ^he 
taught me to readHhe Psalter; and, as it was 
the only book that could be procured, I got it 
all by rote, and would not part with it for all 
the ipines of Hungary. I was about eight years 
of age, when the sudden death of our Polish 
friend put an end to the hopes that I. even then 
cherished of being one datable to read the writings 
of those men ^yho taught us ** to wander through 
eternity.'* My father was contented with his lot : 
anda.s he had never tasted the sweets of learning, 
looked upon it as a kind of sin in the son of a 
poor peasant to aspire to any thing beyond the 
humble line in which he was bred ; and in or- 
der to cure me of that folly, as he called it, I 
was hired out to a nobleman in the vicinity to 
herd swine. The steward was alinbst as great a 
man as his lord, 'and as ignorant as his lord, 
and as proud of his ignorance too. He could 
scarce speak his native language ; yet every 
word was uttered with such pomp, that my poor 
father looked ft me with a face of wonder mixed 

' with 


with awe, as much as to say, ** Listen to the 
words of a great man, for they come with weight 
and authority/' The head swineherd was called, 
and presented me with a horn as the insignia o^ 
my office ; I was highly pleased -with it, as it 
was curiously carved, and hung with some shells 
which I had not seen before. I did not forget to 
bring my Psalter, my dear companion, witlj me, 
but I took care that the steward should not see it ; 
and I entreated my father, of all thipgs, that.hc 
would not let him know that I could read a 

The head swineherd seemed very well pleased 
with my. answers; and promised and assured me, 
that if I fulfilled them, he would take care that 
I should be promoted in the course of time. 
This was son^e comfort ; especially as it came 
from a man who seemed to pity my youth, and 
the difficulties I had to encounter, in the task 
that fortune had assigned to me. I shall not 
repeat these . difficulties — they were numerous: 
if one of the grunting race happened to be lean, 
it was my fault ; if one happened to stray, it was 
my fault ; andif I attempted to speak, I was sure 
of a beating* The steward surveyed and num- 
bered all the herds once a quarter ; hence he was 
known amongst the herdsmen by the name of the 
Inspecting General. The parade he assumed on 
tlfese occasions cannot be described ; if the least 
D 4 remark 


remark on his part called forth a single word, 
all his bristles were on end in an instant ; and 
as sooo as words could find vent, an explosion 
of oaths that would shock the ears of the most 
hardened sinner. I thought myself well off if I 
escapedatone of these reviews with a dozen blows, 
and as many threats, accompanied by looks suffi- 
cient to petrify the beholder. I was treated so cruel- 
ly by this nionster and all his underlings, that I 
preferred the company of swine to my own species, 
and began to think what I now find in a great 
sneasure to be true> that man is the worst ani- 
mal in the creation. One day, as I was sitting 
under my favourite tree, reading my Psalter, the 
steward stole on me unawares. The first thing 
he did was to snatch the book out of my hand, 
which he trampled under his feet. I was so 
alarmed, fhat I could scarce persuade myself 
I was awake; as soon as my senses began to 
return, I felt my veins swell with ra^e at the 
treatment which my book received ; and I am 
sure, if my strength had been equal to my fury, 
that I would have torn the rascal limb from limb. 
As i plainly saw that the tide of hi§ wrath would 
be immediately turned o,n myself, thought for 
safety in flight : a wood at a little distance 
spread its friendly arms, an^J seemed to invite 
me to fly for shelter to its boughs. Pe pursued 
me, but fear winged my steps, apd no wqnde^; 
. the 



the prize was life; for if I had fallen into his 
hands, it would have been like a sparrow in the ta« 
Jons of an eagle. He followed me into the wood 
with such force and celerity, that he ran between 
two trees : he thought to disengage himself by 
main force, but in vain. When I «aw that he 
was entangled, and that all his efforts to free 
himself were ineffectual, I walked up to him, 
seized his own hunting-pole, and beat him with 
it at long as I was abfe to wield it. I then 
walked off, and left him to the mercy of the 
hungry wolves, and his own reflections, if he had 
any. As my passion had subsided, I threw my<« 
self on my knees, and poured forth praise and 
thanksgivings to the Father of mercies, who 
had delivered me out of the hands of such a fe- 
rocious monster. My heart began to emerge : 
every thing ^bout me seemed to smile: the 
flowers put on fresh garments, and the leaves of 
the trees fluttered in the gale. I often reflect with 
pleasure on the thoughts that came into my mind 
as I sat under a large oak, the patriarch of the 
wood. ** Well, I have now fled from the face of 
man, tlte tyrant of the creation ;. I am become 
a solitary tenant of the forest. How can I call 
this solitude ? The birds sing ; 1 hear the voice 
of nature in the gentlest breeze ; and, as for 
hooks, I want none. Nature spreads her pages 
\ip(qvc me ; tl^e texiure of th^t flower, the va- 

4^ lift Of THOMAS SAINtlTZ. 

ricJty of itscoldarisf, Sndtlie richness of its perfume/ 
are sufficient to employ my thoughts. What a 
/ich tabl6 the God of nature has spread even in 
rti^'descirt ! Look at the trunks and branches of 
ihes^ trees, how rough and crooked ! yet they 
are wdighfcd doWn with delicious fruit. Avauht', 
then, eveiy kJea of future ^misery ; I shall pass 
my days in the dear society of birds, trees, and 
flowers, and pity the man that is in the power of 
iban. Nature, hbwever, has taught us to pro- 
vide for future want ; her laws are immutable ; 
they are dictated by unerring wisdom, and* 
henceforth I will follow them : let me provide 
for the night tb^t will soon spread her raven 
wings ;^ when the howlifig of the wild beasts 
will recall the voice of the steward-7-the voice of 
the oppressor, and the voice of a tyrant. Per- 
haps the villain now sleeps in death-^perhaps the 
eagle is now preying on his carcass — ^perhaps 
he is now called before the tord of lords, and 
who knows how his accounts «tand*?** I then 
thought it prudehf to look out for a place ot 
safety in the night, and to my great joy found out 
a cave formed by the hand of nature, sufficiently 
spacious, with a large stone in the farther end, 
covered with moss, which I marked out for a 
pillowf for I had now slept fbr two years on the 
lap of my mother earth, so that a bed was the ^ 
least part of my concern. The entrance to the 
4 cave 


cave was narrow, and could be secured against 
the iptrqsion of the wolf or the bear with a few 
branches. The moment I entered I threw my- 
self (ifown/and in an instant fell asleep, and did 
not waken till the next morning. Hungiary, 
perhaps, is the only country on earth that nature 
has exempted from the toils of the plough and 
the harrow : here every thing may be said to be 
spoqtaneous — the richest fruits that ever the sun 
ripened ; so that the vegetable race may really call 
it their own country, their Paradise, and native 
seat. Having breakfasted, I sought for a spring, 
and soon found one as clear as crystal and as^ 
cold as ice : this was a precious discovery, for I 
must confess that the water is not good in Hun* 
gary. I often thought of my poor mother; I 
dreamt of her every night, and was afraid, if my 
evil genius should release the steward,, that he 
would' wreak his vengeance on her. 

This thought for the present was the only 
one that gave my mind any uneasiness. I had no 
occasion to regret my seclusion from a world, in 
which I had been hardly treated from my in- 
fancy. To provide for future want was my prin- 
cipal concern ; for this purpose I pulled several 
clusters of the richest grapes, and placed them 
to dry in the sun. I usually breakfasted on 
strawberries; and instead of being resigned to my 
situation, I became enamoured*bf it. One night, 



in my sleep, I thought the steward appeared to 
me, vf ith blood streaming from different par^s of 
bis body ; his eyes seemed to burn in his head ; 
1 thought that I saw the word revenge written in 
every line of his countenance. My blood ran 
ioiti icicles in my veins : I awoke in terror, and 
could scarce persuade myself that it was a dream ; 
I strove to move, but cotild not ; I strove to call 
cm'God, but I could not; and I watched for the 
retuft) of the dawn with as much anxiety as the 
lender mother watches for the return of a beloved 
son in a dark night. The welcome dawn at length 
came^ but it could not dissipate my uneasiness; 
xpy reflections began to thicken like a swarm of 
bees in the heat of the noontide sun, and every 
. cnc of them pleaded in favour of the steward, 
and condemned me as a murderer. I walked 
out, but nothing could alleviate the sorrows that 
weighed down my mind: if I looked at my 
hands, I thought 1 saw spots of blood on them, . 
\vliich my tears could not wash out; J prayed, 
apd I felt at last as if my prayer was heard : this 
was the first relief; but my reflections returned 
with the night, and I was afraid to sleep. Tired 
natpre at length yiplded to repose, and I passed 
the night in greater tranquillity than I had a 
right to expect. I was now enabled -to converse 
a little with myself: ** If the steward is fallen a 
prpy," s^id I, " 4o the beasts of the fpre^t, I 



shall be 'canght, for his blood will cry to Heaven 
for vengeance, and the very prints of my feet 
will lead to my cave : — ^I shall be given up to 
justice — I shall be put to deaths and all my rela- 
tions, perhaps, will be condemned to die along 
with me ; our pame will be a by- word in the 
country, and our habitation will be sown with 
salt. Let me then provide for my safety, for if I 
remain here any longer, I shall be discovered : 
tlie love of life is sweet; it was given to me by 
my Maker, and I ought to preserve it as long as 
I can. My dream, perhaps, was a warning voice^ 
whispered into my ear by the angel of the night, 
and I will avail myself of it.'' Moved by these. 
impressions, I wandered through the wood for 
''threedays, and cheered myself with the hopes that 
Providence had vouchsafed to be my guide and 
guardian ; for, strange to tell, I neither met with 
a wolf nor a bear in the whole way. I found out 
inpthcr cave, with a large flag at a little distance, 
Vhich filled the entrance as exactly as if it had 
been designed for that purpose. In this situation 
I itinained for two years : I amused myself with 
ihe study of nature ; the variety of her works, or 
rather, the works of the God of nature, filled mc 
with adoration and astonishment : every particle 
was finished beyond the power of imitation ; I 
could oba/erve no traces of the chisel, no flights 
of the shuttle, or any of those instruments that 
-5 ' the 


the first arti&t is obliged to resort to in all hid 
labours. I had never tasted ihe charms of so- 
ciety, therefore I could not regret, them ; I ojily 
regretted the loss of my Psaltcrj and shuddered 
when I thocght of the fate of the steward : my 
mother often , visited me in m}j slumbers, and 
sometimes I heard her voice in the day-time, as I . 
walked along. " Man, that vain animal,'* said 
r, " has the arrogance to say, thayt every thing in 
the varied round of creation was made for his 
use and pleasure ; but the slightest survey of all 
that is about me, proves to the contrary. These 
flowers flourish in the sun, and rejoice in his 
beams ; they sleep as well as I — and oh that I 
were as innocent ! The birds pour forth their 
music; they are charmed with their own con-* 
certs; they have their domestic cares, and thcjr 
have their domestic bliss : these downy nests arc 
not invaded by the hands of the spoiler — they arc 
secure from the toils of the fowler. The verf 
trees have their pleasures, and, perhaps, thej^ 
have ideas peculiar to themselves. Godis^ot 
the God of the dead — he is the God of the 
living, and all nature ig animated.'* 

These were my reflections; and as they were 
dictated by naturer Itself, who was my only tu- 
toress, they are dear to me at this moment. One 
morning, as I was sitting under a vine that over- 
shadowed me with its braQcbes, I thought I heard 

a human 


a human voice ; my heart trembled, anfl a thou- 
sand thoughts immediately shot across my mind: 
I drew in my legs as geu^y as I could, and 
called upon the clusters to conceal me : in the 
course of a few seconds, I saw a person advance |^ , 
he called to me in a gentle voice, and bade mc 
not to be afraid, I collected suflicicnt courage 
to tell him, that I was not afraid : he came up 
to mc, took me by the hand, and sat down by my 
side. *^ You see by my dress,'* said he, " that 
lam fled from sopiety as well as yourself, and 
jleaven, no doubt, has brought us together." If 
I was charmed with his words, I was still more so 
Vi^ith his countenance ; there was so much sweet- 
ness in it, that my fears immediately vanished, 
and without any hesitation I told him my whole 
^istory, and in return he favoured me with the 
following outline of his own : 

" My father is one of the wealthiest lords in. 
all Hungary ; arid in point of antiquity, if not the 
firsts «oqr house may be ranked in the first line. * 
Our hall is hung with the trophies of war ; we 
have often stood in the pass, sought the foe in 
his own camp, and died the field with his blood« 
Our chaplain was a very good kind of man ; he 
was a German ; he had the honour and happi- 
ness of our family at heart, and my father was 
guided by him in temporal as well as in spiritual 
affairs. He advised him to send me to the uni- 

49 ;• trt^B OF THOMAS SAlNVtr^. 

'» ■ " - 

vcrsity^i of Jcna^ where I passed eight ycam 
under the superintendence of o«e of the most 
learned and pious nfcn in that seminary. I re- 
Wmed t^ my fiative home in the eighteenth year 
$£my age. As I was the only person in my fa- 
mily that had been brought up to the knowledge 
of letters, I used to amuse myself with reading; 
and if at times I' mingled in the chase, it was ra- 
ther on account of health than amusdment. On 
one of these occasions, I happened to fall into a 
train of reflections on a passage which I had read 
the preceding nightj so that I rode some miles 
without ever thinking of the hunt, or whither I 
was going;" and when I looked about me, I 
could not tell where I was. I paused for some 
minutes, cast my eye around, but could not espy 
even a cottage ; I rode on, and when I had 
gained the summit of a gently rising hill^ I ob- 
served a castle, that out-topped a group of lofty 
ttees at a distance. I made up to it, and was re- 
^ccived in the most hospitable manner. The 
master of this Gothic mansion was, perhaps, the 
proudest of our magnates^ as he traced his blood 
up to the founder of the Hungarian empire ; but 
I found' that he had little else to boast of except 
his herds, his slaves, and precious minerals. — rl 
mistake — he had a daughter, worth all the hei:ds, 
and skves, and bleeding rubies in the world. 
Nature Jbad formed het of the choicest mould, 



and her education was far superior to those of her 
rank. Such heauty demanded a tribute^ and I 
laid my. heart on the altar. This visit waa suo 
ceeded by another, and every visit added fuel to 
my passion : it was refined ; it was the purest 
flame, and I was happy to find that it warmed 
the fa(M angelic bosom on earth. I must not de- 
tain you long :««-one morning, as we stood to-^ 
gether under a spreading palm, the emblem of 
our loves, her father and brother discovered our 
retreat. Regardless of my own life, I was only 
solicitous for that which was dearer to me. ; I 
thought to screen her from the fury of both. 
The son fired at me ; I presented my breast to 
receive the ball, but the cruel fates were not so 
kind i it entered the bosom ot his sister, and she 
stink in my arms with a sigh. As soon as I saw 
that she was dead, I rushed forth like a boar 
galled with the dart of the huntsman : I dreW* 
my scimitar, and with one stroke laid him at 
my feet. The second brother by this time had 
reached the fatal spot ; I fiew at him, and in an 
instant his lifeless trunk sunk on the ground. 
The father levelled his pistol at me, but it missed 
fire ; I raised my arm, but the breathless corpse 
of his daughter, beautiful even in death, re- 
strained my fury, or I would have widowed the 

proud house of . A young man came up to 

VOL. I. B me; 

th^ iarm to a latg^i :^5*t^i ^hcrfe I foiiiKl a horse 
Ydid/ ^addledj Wjbich I -tnottflted, atnl in an in^ 
Mant I ^9nH out of irieW. My 'trotnids bteecl 
.Jriireish ; litit as I "have proceeded fhiis ftt, 111 go 
tth. ¥niat tras to be done?— -I couid not think 
rftettttrningto my fathcft^; 1 knew Ihe'entoity 
that *«*s^ted bettveen the two feimlies; the 
{>ride of blood— the pride of domam-— the pride 
of inffitary exploits — these were the never-failing 
«MM*Pc^s *)f that ^nmitj^ ; liiy return would only 
increase it. I rode, or rather ftew, tiot from the 
putstiit^bift frorti taysfelf, rather ; but 1 could not 
fly from myself. Tired at lengfti, I alighted, and 
left the hoisc tb <:ha*ice— ^fbe feithftil horse, thai 
scarcely left the form of Ws hoof T^ehlnd. The 
shades of night, and the shades of a still darker 
t^ood, enveloped me from every view bttt the vic^ 
«)f HeaJven. The ncxi i!ay I traversed the wood, 
tinkwKving what I sou^ ; at fright I ascended 
a tre^, and about the hour of twelve I thought 
I heard the sound of a bell, slowly advancing 
oil the undulating breeze. I was soothed with 
4he slound ; it spread a pleasing melancholy Over 
toy frame : at first I thought it might have bec» 
the effect of imagination, but in a few houra 
afterwards I heard the sound again, solemn, Hi;e, 
the knell of some departed spnit. I began to 


UfB OP THOMAS S4INiF«rf. £1 

ibink that it proceedod from soine-mbnaBterjr, 
and I was right ; for in a short time I sair thi 
apires glittering in the beams of the morning 
sun. As I now had no interest in this world, it 
came into my mind, that I owld not do better 
than to spend the rest of my days in wch a retreat, 
in prayer, abstii>ence> reading, and ipatsditation, 
as the only balm of a mind woui^ded like mine. 
Accordingly, I went up to the porter, aad re- 
quired to see the abbot, a venerable old tnan ; I 
told all that had happened to me ; he sympa- 
thized with my sorrows ; I changed my name^ 
and was admitted. I now bade adieu to the 
world, and seemed for some days to think, if 
every one knew the bappiness of a monastic life, 
we should hav^ nothing but monks and nuns ; 
but I was soon disgusted with it Instead of shut- 
ting out those pas^QS that embitter human life, 
the gate was rather thrown open to them : such 
bickerings,^ contentions, superstition, ignorance, 
laziness, gluttony, &c. that I took the first oppor- 
tunity that |)resented itself to make my escape, 
with a few books which I purchased, the dear 

' idbmpamons of my solitude. I have now re- 
mained in this wood these three years ; she that 
was once the idol of my heart, is now my guar- 
nflian angd, and I have just finished an epitaph, 
which, if Heaven permit, I will inscribe to her 

• memory, on a slab of white marble, which I have 

E 2 polished *i^ 

jt ttft 09 THOMAS 8A1KVJTZ. 

polished for that purpose.*' The epitaph r'an ^ 

^' The fair whose dust sleeps underneath^ 
With us short time was doomM to breathe ', 
Yet while she deign'd to dwell on earth, 
Besides connexions and high birth. 
Nature, thrice kind, with Fortune's dower. 
Gave ev'ry gift within her power; 
Each charm was fondly gaz'd upon. 
And each had claimants more than one ; 
Compassion hop'd to gain her sigh. 
Soft Pity languished for her eye ; 
' The rose would court her fragrant breath, 
^. Her song, the swain would sing in death. 
Hopdess her fairness to assume. 
The lily languished in its bloom ; 
Each virtue mark*d her for its own. 
Love calPd her heart his rooted throne; 
PrepafM his bow^ the arrow drew. 
The shaft of death before it ilew; 
, Yield all, yield love, unstainM with pelf. 
For God has claim'd her for himself/'^ 

' He paused^ and in fhat interval t '11 take the 
opportunity of saying, that I thought myself in 
heaven. I could scarce persuade myself for 
some moments that I was in company with a 
mortal being ; he was young, finely formed, and 
his face shone like the face of an angel. I ^w 
that lie was pleased with my attention ; it waf r • 



deep, for every word be said sunk into the 
bottom of my heart, where it remains even at 
this distance of time. It was new to me, it was 
interesting to me ; and therefore it is no wonder 
if it made a deep impression on me. He invited 
me to accompany him to his cave ; it was at some 
distance ; but conversation beguiled the length of 
the way. 

Stranger. When I first entered thi^ dark 
forest, I cannot describe the variety of passions 
that contended for the mastery in my breast. In a 
day or two, however, the tumult began to sub- 
side, and reason, that had been banished for 
some time from her throne, was recalled by reli- 
gioti and philosophy to resume thi sceptre. It 
would appear romantic if I were to tell the varie- 
ty of little incidents tliat befell vcit in the course of 
the first weelc : — 1 cannot pass over one : I think 
it was on the fifth day, as I was walking near the 
brow of a rugged precipice, I cast my eye on a 
spreading oak, that seemed to have some figures 
cut on its stem : I went up, and to my great sur^ 
prise found four letters of the alphabet, curiously 
« cut out beneath the rude figure of a man. I forget 
the philosopher tliat exclaimed in rapture, " Men 
have been here !*' when he saw some mathema- 
tical figures on the sand in a desert. I looked 
round, and saw an opening betwixt two rocks ; I 
entered with trembling steps, and found a hatchet 
E 3 - ■ and 


and a pair of ciompasses! I paused for some 
time in ecstacy oter this treasure ; I advanced to 
the upper end of the grotto, and there I saw a 
smooth stone with the following lines cut on it : 

'^ Life 's.made up of hopes and fears. 
In other words, of smiles and tears ; 
But our smiles are easy reckoned. 
And they vanish in a second ; 
Whilst our overflowing tears 
Can't be riumbcr'd up in years/' 

As I may say I was heir at law to the truth of 
these verses, I took possession of the cave; and 
as no one has, from that hdur to this, at* 
tempted to diljpute my claim^ 1 have kept posses* 
sion of it ever since. 

Author. Nor is it likely that any onfe ever wilL 
Did you m^t with any thing afterwards that 
led to the. discovery of the first inhabitant ? 

Stranger. '^Qi)^\pg ; I wi^h I coujd. I intend 
to divide it with you^ however % We shall be so 

Author. I look on Ibis to be the happiest day 
of my life; my good friend the Pole used to say, , 
that happiness unmixed was not to be tasted 
on this side the grave. 

Stranger. If you do not shake the cup too of- 
ten, the lees will sink to the bottom. 

Author. NoWj Sir^ you see that I am young } 

I know 

Clf £ Of THOMAS 8AjifVlT€» 5] 

Iknownothing^of the world; I ncYcr had aay 
interccMYne with it ; I know nothing ^f books \ 
I never, as I have already told you^ read but ono 
in my life ; and wha^ is more^ I know nothing 
Cfcn of the very country I was bom in. I have 
seen two or three castles in my life, bat I dara 
not approach them ; they seemed to frown on 
the very cottage that strove to conceal the turf^r 
crowned shed, at an humble distance. I have 
seen some of the domestics of these wealthy 
lords mounted on horses, richly caparisoned ; the 
bri^s glittered with precious stones, that shono 
even in the lustre of the sun; and the very 
horses themselves seemed to glory in the pride 
of their riders. I am indebted for the little that 
I know to the honest Pole ; and so far I find 
that whatever he told me is true. 

Stranger. It behoves every man to know somcw 
tlung of the geography and history of the coun«> 
try that gave him birth. We are indebted to our 
natal soil in many respects ; if our parents should 
die, or inhumanly desert us, our country will 
foster our, infancy. These lessons ought to be 
the first taught in our schools; but instead of 
that, we are led in our youth to Rome, the 
proud mistress of the world. We are charmed 
with the conquests of those grplendid robbers of 
mankind, the Romans : these conquests are ex<* 
hibited in such captivating language, that we for- 

E 4 get 

56 Lin or THOMAS SAINVITl^. 

get the miseries of the conquered in the trium^ 
phant shouts of the victors. But the time will 
come, that mankind will pay a little more atten* 
tion to their own histories, and, if they do, they 
will find as many subjects for praise in their own 
heroes, as they now do in those of the people I 
have just mentioned : nay, I think the catalogue 
of the Roman heroes will be much diminished^ 
when the beams of philosophy dissipate the 
clouds of prejudice, that now hang over the 

minds of men, and which, in some measure, will 


cloud the brightest understanding through time. 
I .will now give you, as far as I can recol- 
lect^ the outline of the history of our own state. I 
think it matters very little from what part of the 
globe we came. As to the emigrations of nations^ 
thcjr have been so numerous when war and con-j 
quest was the trade of mankind, that it is impos-* 
sible, at this time of day, to tmce any one na« 
tion to its native source : writers on writers have 
written on this fruitless subject, and I do not 
find that they have shed much light on it ; nay, 
indeed, the light they have, shed, ignis fattms 
like, only serves to lead the reader astray. Lan- 
guage is the only guide that is now left us in 
this intricate path ; Qui genti^ origines deslitu^. 
las (A hlstoria, ex linguamm mutua adjinitaUy au$ 
simlitudine^ nitimiur iUtistrare, viam iUi qutdem in* 
eunt non insoJifam^ &c. (which he explaipedtto 


LtPZ OF THOMAS SAimrm. 57 

ne) I but ^CTen the links of this chain are oftea 
broken^ and the history of the origin of every 
nation is blended with clumsy fables and £&• 
i^ionable lies. On this occasion the Hungarian 
language may well claim the superiority over 
that of any other ; it is insulated — it bears*no 
affinity to any one known language on earth« 
It agrees, undoubtedly, with the Turkish in 
twenty or thirty words, which may be easily ac- 
^dlinted for from the intercourMr of the two na« 
tions* The Huns, jihares, orAvares^ and Hun- 
garians^ are one- and the same people — Asiaiki* 
in 479, they were divided into two classes, ihm 
Asiatic and European Hungarians; the latter 
were mixed witl\ the Bulgarians ; and about the 
sixth century the name of HunSy or Hungarians, 
was first known in Europe. As the seeds of #ar * 
were sown in every man's bosom in those days^ 
it is no wonder if the pages of our history down 
to the present day, stream with blood ; Ho that 
you may turn over leaf after leaf, and scarce meet 
with any thing but plunder, devastation, fire, 
and faming ; one castle reared its head against 
anothef, and the son stood in battle arra^ 
against the father, and the father against the son ; 
and I am sorry to say, that even tiftie, and the 
precepts of Christianity, written in milk, have 
little tended to extinguish the sparks of private 
animosity and public indignation/ The Hu^«^« 


^9 isff^ 0r ruciUA9, saivyitx^ 

gtfians are gallant soldiem ; tilejr delight in the 
Jiotmd of the trumpet and the neighing of the 
war-horse : what they gained by the sword, they 
maintain by the sword; and if ever they yield it 
up, it will be with their breath. Hungary is the 
richest ootlntry in the universe : look at her sur* 
face — ^look at her vine, look at, her fruits;***^ 
wherever the plough has been introduced, het 
vallies float in wheat and barley, and all sorts of 
grain : you see Ihe reaper on the heels of the 
sower ;^ nay, I- may venture to say, that het 
spring is richer than the harvests of other na-» 
lions. What are all these in comparison to the 
wealth she has concealed in her bowels : her 
mines ^f gokl, silver, iron, lead^ precious stones^ 
quicksilver, &c,? It would seem that Nature, in 
* soAie great revolution, had collected her trea^ 
anres, and deposited them in the womb of this 
country. When I call precious stones treasures, 
riSkm't think I intend to place so high a value <m 
tbem as I do on the fruits and productions of the 
fields ; precious stones may lose their lustre in 
. the eye of beauty, and those that prize them at 
' l^rescnt ; but Agriculture renews her ngt every 
moment — she appears in a new garb every day ; 
she may bersaid to flourish in perpetual youth : 
contept and health, and even arts and 8ciencc|| 
are found in het train : if she crowds the tables 
«*<;^ the great with luxury, she fills the humble 



Iboavd vrkb abundance ; all those that are willing 
to renter into her aervice are rewarded ; she ior* 
tifies the meanest cottage against the at tacks of 
winter; she smooths the bed of the labouring 
hind^ and amuses his slumbers with light fantas* 
tic dreams. Philosophy^ however, like Nature 
turns every thing to her own account, and to the 
best advantage: the sound of the anvil was 
heard long before the days of Pythagoras, but it 
was reserved for the Samian sage to turn those 
sounds into music^ and to range them in sweet 
' concord under the banners of science. Whilst 
our magnates are diving into the mine for dia* 
monds, the natural philosopher will yet dive 
into the same in pursuit of what is more precious 
than diamonds — truth. It is in the bowels of • 
•the earth that we are io search for tho works of 
God ; it is there we are to trace the revolutions o|r 
nature, as Pliny, the Roman naturalist, very 
justly observes: Sunt suh terra minus nota nobis 
jura natur^y sed non minus certa : — crede infra^ 
quidquid vides supra. Perhaps it is the bowels of 
the earth that the chronologist will yet look for 
those years that rolled away : perhaps it is in 
the bowels of th^ earth that the divine will yet?r 
look for additional proofs of Holy Writ, if any 
are wanting. Perhaps it is in the bowels of the 
earth that the physician will yet look for medi- 
cines, that may soften the agonies pf pain ^ and ^ 
3 . expand , 


expand the rose of health on the pallid cheek of 
youth ; nay, even the geographer, who has tra- 
versed the surface of the globe^ may yet '^ find in 
the interior of it, the remains of cities swallowed 
up by earthquakes, or those that have sunk under 
the silent touches of time. Having now given 
you a faint outline of the wealth of our native 
country, you have a right to expect that the in« 
habitants of it are the happiest of the human 
race; they ought to be so, but I am sorry to say 
that they are not. Our nobility are ignorant ; 
they have not yet emerged from barbarism ; they 
pride themselves in the extent of their domains, 
the antiquity of their families, the number of 
their horses, and the ileetnesis, ferocity, and sa- 

V gacity of their dogs ; nay, dogs and horses 
engross their affection. I do not blame them 
for their attention to those animals in a certain 
degree. A horse is one of the most finished ani- 
mals in the creation : nature, as well as man^ 
seems to be proud of the stately steed : Grettla, 
the Icelandic poet, has sung the praises of a 
horse, in numbers that will live through all eter- 
nity; and the fidelity of the dog is proverbial ; 

#yet there are some truly noble amongst our lords. 

' As to the people, the common herd, tHey are 
not even considered as drops of water in the 
bucket, or dust in the balance : you *11 find no 

m breast warmed with the love of letters $ our mo- 


tlasteries are filled, with ignorance and supersti- 
tion ; you scarce meet with a book in one of 
theip^ or^ if you do^ it is a book of cookery. A^ 
to war, I can't blame my fellow-subjects ; the 
situation of our country is warlike, if I may iMe 
the expression; we are encircled by powerful 
nations on every side, who would swallow us 
up, if we did not keep the bow always ready ; 
but I look forward to happier days. When the 
crescent^ is in the wane,* then the sun of Hungary 
will shine in milder glory, and the lord and the 
peasant will rejoice in its beams ; but that period 
is remote. We are at present composed of sev^eu 
different nations, and as many tongues ; when 
their sounds are mixed and lost in one, then our 
interest will be one ; we shall then have the ' 
same enemy and the same friends. Our situa* 
tion as a nation ought to render us happy ; we 
are cut off fr6m the ocean, and of course frodi 
foreign commerce ; for it is trade that debauches 
the human heart, and teaches us to place a price 
on the best affections of the mind in a commer- 
cial country. Connubial love is bought and 
sold ; there is a price annexed to it in the na- 
tional sale catalogue; the very patents of thdr 
nobility shine in golden sands. All comm^cial 
states have a certain period of duration, as well 

as those that are founded on extensive conquest* 

/ • •- ^ 

* The Turks. 


to U9M «r moUAB Bxt^viTZ. 

1%€ Phoenicians built Malaga; they planted co^ 
femeA in Abdera and Carthage^ and not content 
with the gold of Spain^ they brought tin from 
4be Cas8iteride0 ; they sunk in splendid ruin, and 
Juive not left even a native poet or historian be* 
hind them» Tyre, the daughter of Zidon, is no 
more : Tyre, that was situate at the entry of the 
sea, ^* a merchant of the people for many isles," 
is sunk into oblivion :-~hcr esmerald^ and brqi- 
dered work are no more. 

This shews yon the superior advantages of 
agriculture, and the happiness of an inland state, 
Uessed with abundance, and good laws impar* 
iiaUy administered. I am afraid, after what I 
iurre said, that these flowers and fruits will fade 
in your eycj and that you will one day exclaim, 
•• It is not good for man to be alone/' 

jiuthor. On the contrary, those fruits and 
flowers appear brighter than ever in my eye ; 
and if I even indulged an inclination to visit the 
worid, you have cured me. 

Stranger. Then let us be happy together; I 
isave some books ; they are written in Latin, but 
I '11 teach you that language : I 'U teach you all 
ijbaX I know, and I '11 tell you all that I know. 

Author. Then you'll make me happy, indeed I 

This specimen will enable the reader to judge 
of the advantages which a willing mind might 
derive from the society of such an enlightened 


man. As I had, what is called in my latrgnagc; 
a mokt memory^ susceptible of erery trnpresaioob 
it should be matter rather ctf surprise than other^ 
wise, ff I did not make a rapid progress in (he 
Latin language. I was not more charmed with 
the fables of Virgil than I was with those 4if 
Ltvy^ the £rther of Roman history. I was ««- 
raptured with hi$ harangues, and blessed tke 
imaginirtion of ihe historian that had penned 
them: they convinced tne that the son of Padua 
bad a perfeot knowlec^e of the character of his 
coutltrymen, and that he was a master of his own 
language, which is more than every writer cain 
bo^t; for language and music may be well com« 
(Yared, and the magical effects of one and the 
other cannot be described even on the coldest 
«ar and the duHc^t heart. 

He also fonocd a globe, on which we traced 
aiU the flights <yf the Roman eagle, as well as 
the conquests of Attila, &c. I was young, and, 
of course, inexperienced : I followed these bar* 
Inarous conquerors into the very heat of the bat- 
tle, and as often as victory perched on their stan«> 
dftrd, I rejoiced. My friend saw this : he found $L 
ready apologjr for it in my youth ; he depicted 
those enemies of the human race in their pro- 
per colours, and taught me to detest the laurels 
that were stained with the blood of the innocent; 
and bedewed with the tears of the widow an3 


64 LltZ or THOMA» SAivvixr* 

the orphan. Though he was an excellent gco^ 
iprapher, and had seen many places with his own 
eyes, yet I could nolKj4ieIp perceiving, that ad of^ 
ten as \ touehed on the situation^ &c. of any 
(country ^ he availed himself of the first opportu- 
nity to change the conversation. There are 
some that cannot hear even to reflect on past 
pleasures^ and there are others who are never se 
happy as when they are talking of them. I re-^ 
collect that I asked him one day if he had ever 
been in Bohemia ; he paused^ and with a sigh 
answered^ that he had spent some happy days in 
that country. I expressed a wish to know some- 
thing of it, when he gave me the following par- 
ticulars, which I treasured up in my memory^ 
that faithful recorder of all my joys and all my, 
woes* " The first inhabitants of Bohemia were 
probably the Celts, who, in the earliest ages of 
antiquity, inhabited the north-west part of Eu- 
rope. They were conquered by the Marco-- 
manni, and these, in their turn, were obliged to 
yield to the arms of the Slavi, who have retained 
that kingdom ever since. The manners of the 
ancient inhabitants resembled those of other bar- 
barous nations. The young women bore arms, 
and fought by tjie side of the men ; they wore . 
even the same dress ; but after the death of Li- 
busse, their first chief, they assumed a lighter 
§arb of many colours, but would not acknow- 


ledge the superiority of man in war, or in the 
chase« Towards the latter end of the thirteenth 
century, the men wore their beards, and valued 
themselves not a little on the length of their 
hair, which generally flowed over their shoul- 
ders. The dress of the nobles consisted of a 
shorty strait coat or jacket^ with a bonnet that 
ended in a point somewhat in the form of a cone. 
The peasants were vested in long cloaks and pan- 
taloons. The priests wore bonnets in the form 
of a crown; and^ what may appear a little ex« 
fraordinary, never appeared in public without a 
^ sword by their side. They buried their dead in 
the woods : the ceremony of interment was im- 
mediately succeeded by a fete^ which sometimes 
continued without interruption for a fortnight, 
nay, even longer, in proportion to the quality of 
the, deceased. Their heathen ancestors were 
sunk in the grossest idolatry ; nor has the light of 
Christianity, even at this day, entirely dissipated 
tfie dark clouds of Paganism. The present in^ 
habitants are lusty, with bright eyes, and pale 
brown hair : the women are very well made, 
fantastic in their dress, passionately fond of 
music and dancing, and, I may add, amorous. 
The peasantry are stupid — as stupid as those of 
Germany ; but those whom fortune has released 
from the toils of the plough and the spade arc 
Kvcly, and even sometimes blunder out a witti- 
VOJU I. r cism. 


cism. They consume large quantities of Hun* 
garian and German wines ; but their ordinary 
beverage is beer, which is lighter and less bitter 
than the malt liquors of Saxony, which are much 
esteemed. They speak German in many of the 
towns, but the Slavonian is their native lan- 
guage. Bohemia is a very fertile country^ but 
little indebted to agriculture. You mentioned 
the other day something of Arabia, and yoU 
seemed to think the inhabitants of that country 
the happiest in the universe; I was almost going 
to say, that happiness is a relative term, and I 
believe, if every man was called on for his defi- 
nition of that word, that we should have as many 
definitions as there are men. Hi^piness is not to 
be localized ; the inhabitants of the frozen regions 
would not exchange their frosts and snows for all 
the golden treasures of the East. Their frosts and 
snows are their treasures ; they glide over the one^ 
and sleep on the other with as much pleasure 
as if they sunk on a bed of down; the cold 
strings their nerves, and fills their veins with 
health and activity. I think that history would 
bear me out if I asserted^ that all the^eastern and 
southern nations have been conquered by the 
hardy sons of the North : men and steel will pe- 
netrate the remotest comer of the globe. The 
Sacas, Dai, Getae, Goths, Heneti, and Sarn^a* 
tians, flowed from the north-east of Asia ; the 


Lirs 09 THOMAS BAlllVff ST. tj 

Tartars Under TamerUnc OTer>irUn Asia i the 
Gotb% and Va^ndals devastated the rich proTinces 
of Spain and the classic shores of Italy. Tha 
Asayrians conquered .the Chaldeaiis ; the Ass]^- 
rians conquered : the Medea ; the Greeks tri«» 
Umphed over the Persians, and the quivered 
Parthian subdued the lettered Greek. Look at 
tht descendants of the Tartar jnation ; one fL\U 
the thiiine of China— anothei! wields the sdeptnfe 
df PWsia-^a third wears the Ottoman cresfceftt— 
and a fourth commands the palace of Delhi." 

These observations were followed by a panegy- 
ric on the pleasures of solitude^ and the study of 
nature ; so that I secretly promised the rest of 
my life should be entirely devoted to that pur* 
<uk. We had now passed five years together, 
and enjoyed, thank Heaven, in all that time, an 
uninterrupted state of health. One winter's 
morning the flitit was mislaid ; he proposed to 
go out and look for one, but I told him that I 
Oould produce fire by rubbing two sticks toge- 
ther, and entreated him to witness the expert* 
ment : . he told me I had no occasion to give my- 
self all that trouble, as there were flints enough 
at a little distance, he would bring home some 
curious ones, and that it would amuse us to 
trace their different shades : at length I con« 
sented that he should go, but requested he 
would make all the baste he could back^ which 

F 2 he 


h^ promised to do^ as tbc morning was cbilty^ and 
be wished to w^rm himself by the fire. He was 
scarce out of my sights when I repented that I 
bad consented to let him' go ; I strove to amuse 
myself, but could not; I counted the minutes 
—I chid myself for my anxiety, but in vain ; I 
walked up and down the cave, counted my steps^ 
and paused at every one. to listen ; I walked to the 
door of the cave; I ran out at length, climbed * 
up a tree, and called out as loud as I could. I 
gave him up for lost ; I thought I saw his man- 
gled body in the paws of* a wolf; the sun shone 
bright, but it did not shine on me. The tears ran 
down my cheeks ; 1 wept and prayed alter- 
nately. The evening came, and the clouds of 
night descended ; but my friend, my brother, my^ 
dear companion, did not return ! I passed the 
night, but I don't know how I passed it. The 
morning came, but did. not bring any healing-in. 
its wings; I ventured out; I sought him, but 
could not find even the print^of his foot; I 
called, but he did notansw:er : I wished for death 
a thousand times, but all in. vain; I then gave 
him up for lost, indeed ! I called on jreligion, 
and religioi) at last poured her balm into my 
wounded heart. A large quantity of snow had 
fallen, and I ventured out once more, in hopes 
that I might trace his footsteps : at length, I 
happened to alight on the mark of a human 
. 3 foot ; 


£bot ; I knelt down and kissed it ; hope and fear 
alternately ruled my bosom: I followed the track 
far miles^ and ere I was aware, came to the cot* 
tage of a peasant. I entered the door, and was 
so faint with hunger and fatigue^ that I sunk 
down senseless on a sfool, that was handed to 
me- When I came to life, I saw the ruddy fa- 
mily around me, and the good woman of the 
peaceful cot employed in chafing my hands : I 
looked, and she redoubled her kind oiffice, for 
she saw by my looks that I thanked her from 
the bottom of my heart. 

I was so sensibly afiected with the kindness of 
thfi good woDDian, that I curse^ the man in my 
heart that ever said a word against the sex; for in 
truth, we should be but brutes without them — 
the last and best gift of heaven. As soon as my 
spirits found their level, I drank a little milk^ 
xyarm from the cow, and ate a small slice of bar- 
ley bread. The young man, whose footsteps had 
guided me to this peaceful abode, entered in a 
short time after ; he wa$ the eldest son ; the 
mother threw her arms about his neck, and wept 
•over hini ; he ^strove to conceal the tears that 
started in his eyes, and assured her that he had 
met with no danger by the way. I w^s pleased 
with the reciprocal affection of the mother and 
the son ; the one in the meridian of life, and the 
other in the dawn of manhood, a fine youth » 

F 3 well 


well formed, a diamond that required littfe 
polish. In the evening, the head of the family 
returned, and on his very entrance seemed to 
forget the labours of the day in the smiles of his 
wife and children. He shook me by the haiid ; 
a token of friendship said to have been introf- 
duced into Hungary by the Goths. After sup- 
per, I told them my little story ; and though 
some parts of it drew tears from them, yet they 
all laughed when I related the beating that I gave 
the steward. *^ Well," said the monarch of the 
cot, ^^ thank Heaven, our steward is one of the 
best of men, as well as our lord : every person 
that livis titader bim is happy ; he knows us all 
by our names ; he visits us when we are sick ; 
and if any ma'ii dare to oppriess us, woe be to 
him!" I was highly pleased with the character 
of the master and the servant, and prayed moat 
sincerely for the health and prosperity of bofti;^ 
The next morriing, the young man insisted oh 
tny accepting a suit of his clothes, for he had 
two, and, as he was nearly of my own height, 
tbey fitted me very well; I wished to join the 
father and the son in the labours of the field, but 
they would not hear of it till I, had at least 
rested myself. At night I used to entertain them 
with stories; and as they believed'in the 
existence of ghipsts,. particularly in the mines, I 
framed Kttle tales/m which I introduced as many 



of those imaginary beings as I could : I always 
took care to have somethiog of a moral in every 
story— $pmething that foight mend the hearty 
and point out the goodness of Providence in the 
creation and preservation of man« Superstition 
and ignorance had plaated a large monastery at 
a little distance. One mornings the abbot ap«* 
peared at the door on horseback; he was of 
such an unwieldy form^ that every one in the 
bouse was called to assist him to alight : I joined 
the rest, and as my foce appeared new to him» 
he surveyed me from top to toe; the moment he 
could draw his breathy and open his eyes, which 
were buried in a mountain of fat, he spoke to 
me. After some questions, he asked me if I was 
disposed to work ; I told him that I was ; that I 
had been brought up to labour from my infancy, 
and that I took a pleasure in it :-~I thought it 
was best to say so : he desired me to call the next 
morning at the monastery. The whole family 
were rejoiced to hear that the abbot had taken 
notice of me ; my mother (for so I shall always 
call her) knew very well, however, that it was in 
vain to approach ihe holy garrison, unless I car- 
^ried a small present in my hand ; she therefore 
gave me a little basket of fresh eggs. I was met 
at the gate by the rosy abbot, who entered into 
the following conversation with mc. 

Abhoi. You say you have been brought up 
to labour? F4 Author. 


Author.- Yes, fathers 

AhhoU^o much the better: idleness is the 
root of all eviL Every man should labour in 
fats own vocation : one man was made to till the 
earth, and another to pray for the increase : you 
may be very happy here ; you will be under the 
eye of many whose thoughts are in heaven; 
they have fled from the world, and all the false 
joys of the world, to abstinence and prayer. We 
are going to lay out a garden, and you will help 
to plant and weed it. — Do you |^now any thing 
of garden^g ? 

Author. I do, a little. 

Abbot. You must lead a life of sobriety:— 
drunkenness is the root of all evil ; it turns a 
inan to a beast — ^Icads him into a thousand vices. 

Author. Certainly, father. 

Abbot. Then, as to women, you must avoid 
them as you would a speckled snake ; you must 
not mind rosy cheeks and rosy lips ; some of 
th6m, if they cin*t catch you one way, will catch 
you another ; some will wound with a pair of 
bright eyes ; some will entangle your heart in 
their hair : if they dance, your heart will dance 
with them; and if they sing— t^^Jbe sure I 
have. known some women that have" sung like 
;.nighting^les*^I say, you must take care of them* 

Author. I will. 
^ Ahbof.. You 'U say so : Solomon was a wise 



man, and Sampson was a strong man, and yet 
they were both subdued by women. There is a 
young girl that lives at a little distance, and yoa 
must not go near her on any account ; she 's to 
be sure an angel in disguise ; I wish her a thoa-> 
sand miles from this . monastery, on your ac« 
count, young man. 

Author. I *11 follow your advice in every thing 
—you '11 find I will, father* 

jlbbot. You can lead mylhorse wl^n I ride 

Author. I will with pleasure. 
Aihot. Then, God bless you; call on me 
in the evening about half an hour after you hear 
the comphin bell ring. ^ 

The deductions 1 drew from his conversation, 
I must confess, were not very favourable to ]iis 
chastity; and as to his appearance, I was con- 
vinced that I could not place abstinence and ^If- 
4enial in the catalogue of his virtues^ : I called 
according to appointment. He led me to a 
room, with a bed, two stools, and a little table. 
" This is to be your sleeping-room," said he,v 
*^ and you 11 eat and drink with the rest of the 
servants ; I think," added he, " you Ml be 
pleased with your usage and fare." I thanked 
him a thousand times for his goodneiss, and pro- 
mised again to do every thing in my power to 
please him. As the weather was fine, he rbcfe 


f4 f'Jt <^^ TjrOMAS SAINVITZ. 

out every cjay for the space of six weeks ; I led 
tJip hprse, and ^s oft^n 83 he fell asleep, I was 
9bliged tp bold hirti in the saddle, which was 
not an easy task. I fprget how it was that he 
found I could read : I was alarmed lest this dis*^ 
covery might lead to iny ruin ; but I was happy 
to find, however, that he expressed some pleasiare 
mt it, I must do him th& justice to say, thdt he 
was very good humoured; at least, to me; but as 
to the monks that wfere under him, he used to keep 
them at an oriental distance. One day, he sent for 
me,andledme to the library, as he called it, which 
was composed of a few books, thiefly the liv^s of 
^airits^ stuffed with miracles, and catalogues of 
precious relics, as he called them. I affected to 
set a great value on these writings, particularly 
orie^ the life of Saint Anthony, written in barba-. 
rous Latin, which he praised to the skies as the 
very paragon of human composition. In the 
Ibcight of his rhapsody on the beauty and subli- 
joiity of the style, I soon perceived that he (vas a 
.very poor judge of the Latin tongue, for in the 
rapidity of his reading he set all prosody at 
-defiance; and when he came to construe a few 
-words, syntax shared the same fate. I pretended 
ihat I was enraptured with his remarks, and 
gazed at him as a prodigy of learning : ^ Oh, 
Sir," said I, " what a pity such a treasure of 
-teiowlcdge should be buried in the walls of a 
r- cloister!'* 


cloister!** This piece of flattery b«d its ftiU 
effect ; he put four golden ducats into my hand, 
and madls me a present of a pair off beads, with 
a silver cross. In passing through the hall^ he 
east his eye into a corner, and called to me in a 
hasty tone ; " There," said he, "take thai 
book ; it is not fit that I should profane my haqd 
with itj take it, and burn it-r-^a book of necro* 
maocy ; it belonged to my predecessor ; I wish 
I could say, Lord have mercy on his spul 1 That 
book is full of lines and circles, all necromancy: 
be was a conjuror.— fBura it, burn it, imme- 
diately ! While he lived, nothing prospered in 
the monastery ; our wine lost its flavour; oqr 
wild-fowl lost their taste, and the devil e^t^red 
into our awine.-r-Take it, I must not look at it.*' 
He then hobbled off as fast as he could. ) iqok 
up the book^ and found that it was a Tr^tise op^ 
Mathematics:: I kissed it ; I prised it to my 
bosom ; and lest it should be torn from me, { 
ran off with it to the woods, and left th^ p^nas- 
tery to the idle drones that consumed the fruits 
of the earth at the expense of the sweat and la« 
hour of others. 

I was so intent on my book— on ijiy treasure, 
that I thought of nothing else : it was the first 
mathematical work I had ever seen ; for my dear 
friend, the companion of my solitude, after ho 
had led me by the hand through aU the flowery 
4 fields 


£e!ds of poetry J after he h^d Cfpened <o my 
view all the treasures of history, rich with the 
spoils of agc^; after he had conducted me 
within view of the temple of philosophy and 
the bowers of* contemplation, paused, and told 
iiie^ that mathematics exceeded them all ; that 
ihe study of that science would enable me to 
trace the footsteps of truth with certainty ; (hat 
word& wbuld bud and blossom, and fall away 
like • the leaves in . autumn, but mathematics 
would ¥6main when the heavens would be ga- 
thered up in a roll, and when the earth would 
melt away with fervent heat. Every thing that 
fell ffom his lips made a deep impression on my 
heart> aftd as all the faculties* of my mind were 
directed to one object, the discovery of Truth, 
it will not appear surprising if I grasped, with 
enthuisiastic ardour, the clue that; promised to 
guide me to her mystic abode. I ascended a 
tree, and read and thought till the shades of 
night| fell' all arodnd me. I leaned my head 
agaiiist one of the blanches, and began to medi- 
tatci not <m the dingers I had escaped, nor those 
th^t might await me in future, but on lines, 
siftes^ and ^ tangents. The morning gale was 
^old; the branches were covered with a heavy 
dew^ but the sua soon spread his golden mantle 
over the topfu. of th«. highest trees: the sight 
was beaqtiftil; I enjoy^d^it, for my inind was at 

" i. ease. 


esM. As it now seemed to be. written in the 
book of fate^ that L should pass the resf of my 
days in the company of trees, birds, and wild 
beasts, I looked out for a convenient place in 
which I might remain in security. After tra- 
versing the forest for some days, I found one at 
last, and remained in it for two years : at the end 
of that period, a thought came into my head, it 
was a wicked one, to be sure ; but I have pro- 
mised to conceal nothing; it was to rob the 
library in the monastery of all the books I could 
carry away. My mind revolted at first against 
the idea, but I reasoned thus with myself: 
*' These books are of no manner of use to those 
that possess them ; they are like lamps in sepul- 
chres, that only warm the unfruitful urn ; I may 
turn them to some benefit ; I may leave some- 
thing behind that may render my name dear to 
posterity : in a few years they will be eaten up 
by the worms, or melt away in the damp ; be- 
sides, the abbot is indebted to me : — the labourer 
is worthy of his hire— and I worked h^rd for less 
than a penny a day." Religion, reason, and 
common honesty, opposed themselves to these 
reflections/ but in vain ; I was determined to 
put my plan into execution, with this salvo, 
that I should return them when I h^d collected 
all the honey contained in tlie most precious 

flowers : 


flowecs : " For it may be," said I to myself, 
** that I shall find some flowers amongst the 
weeds which I saw." Accordingly, I set out from 
my cave, and having gained the vergd of the 
wood that lay next to the monastery, I concealed 
myself in the darkest part of it, till the night 
fell. About the hour of twelve, wheh all the 
fraternity were buried in sleep j 1 clambered over 
the wall that encii'cled the cloistei*< Ai I v<ras 
preparing to ascend the library window, th^ 
watch-dog began to howl ; I ran towards one of 
the gates, and ascended it in an instant ; I- 
thought to make my escape, but in the hurry I 
fell down on the opposite side, and received such 
a shock in the fall, that I fainted away. When 
I recovered, I found myself in the hatids of the 
porter and his two sons : they carried me to the 
lodge, bound me hand and foot, and about ten 
o'clock in the morning led me into the presence 
of the abbot. I read my fate in bis counte- 
nance :— -such a map of Africa-^-^such a collec- 
tion of wild beasts [ I could hear them in his 
voice : the growl of the tiger, the howl of the 
wolf, the churning of the bear, and the whine 
of the hyena. ^^ Well,** said he, ^* we have 
caught the young fox at lastj axid in his own 
trap too — the young necromancer ! but his lines 
and his circles will not avail him ; Saint Jerome 



has delivered him into our hands. He thought 
to get at the few bottles of Sirmian ♦, which I 
ordered to be left in the library^ and which waa 
blest, too, by Saiilt Nicholas ; but Saint Jerome 
has deUvered this young magician into our 
hands^ and the devil^ his master, shall not 
snatch him out of the net in which he was 
caught." On saying these words, he ordered mc 
to be conveyed to the old cellar, which wa^ up- 
wards of thirty feet under-ground. About twelve 
o'clock the turnkey conducted me on a platfortn, 
which was erected for the purpose in the front 
of the monastery, where I was exhibited to an 
immense crowd, with a label on my breiast, on 
which were written the following words : *^ This 
is a necromancer, that deals with the' devil.'* 
There was a person appointed to read the lines 
to the people: some were for tearing mc to 
pieces, and others for starving me to death. One 
of the monks, in whose face I could discern 
something of the human kind^ appeased the fury 
of the enraged multitude. Having remained 
an hour in this situation, I was re-conducted to 
my prison : I was allowed a little bread and 
water, which I mingled with my tears. I stretched 
myself that and the succeeding nights on the cold 
flags. When the jailer brought the bread and 

* A very rich and pleasant wine, which grows in thejsput^i c^ 



water^ lie seemed to tremble at the sight of mc,^ 
and begged that I would not touch him, nor eveo. 
speak to him, and that he hoped in a feyvr days 
to see me burned alive. My confidence in 
Heaven never deserted me ; as to death, there 
was no terror in bis threats. On the fourth 
mornings curiosity led me to survey the extent of 
my prison, and as it was quite dark, I groped 
my way along the wall; to my astonishment, 
I found a door in one of the corners which 
opened with a little pressure : a ray of light — of 
heavenly light, firstborn of creation, shone in 
upon me ; and what was almost as dear, a breath 
of fresh air, that lightly fanned my bloodless 
cheek. I paused, and examined this second 
apartment, and found another door, which 
opened to a subterraneous >passage: T walked 
along it with trembling foot, and* when I came to 
the end, I found some steps, which I ascended, 
and when I had gained the uppermost one, I 
pressed my hand against a flag, or board, I know 
BOt \vhich; it gave way, and in an instant a flood 
of light broke in upon me. I thought I was in 
heaven, and so I was ; for the presence of God 
is every where. I inhaled the fresh breeze; 
every pulse beat with new-born life; the sky, 
the fields — = — but it was no time for contempla- 
tion : I fled on the wings of the morning, and 
gained the summit of a vast precipice, that pro- 

jectcd over the richest valley in the universe. I 
thought it best to pass a few days in this situa- 
tion^ till the pursuit cooled ; on the fifth day, I 
began to think of the most secure mode of re- 
gaining my cave, which contained all that was 
dear to me on earth — ^my mathematical book: 
in less than two days, some kind angel conducted 
my weary steps to it. Solitude wa^ now dearer" 
to me than even One morning, as I was ga« 
thcring some withered sticks to make a fir6, as 
I raised my head, I was surprised by the appear- 
ance of a young man at a little distance, with a 
hunting-pole in his hand : he called out, and 
entreated me not to be the least alarmed, as he 
never injured any one in his life. My ^ind 
told me that I had nothing to fear, so that I 
walked up to him, and saluted his cheek. I 
brought him to my cave, and made him drink a 
glass of wine of my own preparation. He took 
me by the hand, and pressed it : ^^ I tell you 
again,*' said he, " that you need not be afraid of 
me; I have heard of all that happened to you in 
the monastery. I received my education in 
Vienna, and of course I laughed at the charges 
they brought against you : I am glad, however, 
that you gave Saint Jerome the slip ; for if you 
had not, they would have burned you at the 
stake ; but henceforward, 1 *11 share your fate, 
and if you are doomed to drink hemlock, I '11 
VOL. I. G pledge 

8% urt ay tnwiM $Atvfiit. 

pledge you. I shall codcavour to get^yon coo^ 
▼eyed out. of the country ; for the revenge of a 
monk QCTer dies ; and at this minute they have 
hloodhouods, in human fiMrqi, in pursuit of 
you ; hut^ thank Heaven^ the light of the Re« 
formation begins at length to shine in this long-* 
benighted country, and w that likght these mo^ 
nasteries will melt away like snow in the beams 
of the sun/' In short, I accompanied him to hi^ 
father's house, where I remained concealed for 
two months. As successive troops of pilgrims 
from Bohemia were now on their march to the 
shrine of Saint Martin, it was agreed that I 
should join one of those superstitious idle gangs, 
which might be compared to locusts, that devoured 
every thing in their way, and even surpassed 
the gipsies in thievery. I was soon trimmed out 
in a pilgrim's suit, with a staff, and pair of 
beads — I was going to say, a league in length : 
I was also taught to mumble some prayersi over 
them. In this dress, I joined a group composed 
of the merriest fellows in the universe. I was 
pleased with the conversation of two in particu- 
lar ; one might be about twenty-four years of age, 
and the other about forty ; of a gay, lively dispo^ 
sition. I affected to be very grave, but they 
soon saw that it was not my natural disposii^n. 
For the sake of distinction, I shall call the young 
man a rake, and the other was a {)hysician. On 
3 ^ thi;^ 


the third evening of our marcb^ the Doctor whig-' 
pered me 1o follow them at a little distance, w 
soon as I should see them separate themselves 
from the test r I did so, and when I came up to 
them, ihey began to rally me on my affected gra* 
vHy, and to turn fhe shrine of SaissA Maffin, 
and all his devotees, into ficKeole* Havmg 
walked about hai( a league, we eame to a fuy 
fine house: I was sorpmedl to Mc then en(W 
it with as mock famfliafitf as if if wieM iheif 
own* The lady of this stately oMosioft receit(ed 
us im the kindest manner, and ordetttd the maids 
to brisg watec and wash our fiset. Bvttf thing 
was new to me; the wails were hung with fine 
paintings^ glasses, &c. They were all highly 
pleased with my simplicity, which tiiey soon saw 
' was not aScctcd. The supper v^s sumptuous-^ 
the richest wines of Virovichitz : the lady was ^ 
Slavonian ; she honoured us with her company. 
As soon as the cloth was removed, and the lady 
had withdrawn, my companions pushed about 
the glass, and their conversation added an addi- 
^onalflavour to it. I was left to drink as much 
iXBB little as I pleased. I told them my adven^^ 
tures, and they laughed heartily at them : they 
were highly pleased with my description of the 
fat infuriated abbot, and his charge to me about 
the young girU " Well," 9ail the Doctor, ** you 
must take care and bring no more eggs to a mo- 
G 2 nsstery;^^ 


nastcry;— your abboto arc excellent judges of' 
eggs. ^ 

'^ Rcgula presbyteri jubet h«c pro lege teneri. 
Quod bona sunt ova haec^ Candida^ longa, nova/^ 

** I bless my stars/* said the young Bohemian^ 
tha.t I was not caught in one of those cages 
called a monastery : but how do I pity the poor 
nuns^ immured in a Kving sepulchre ! — for what 
is a nunn^ but the grave of youth, beauty, and 
innocence? My father/' said he, addressing 
himself to me; " is^ a very good kind of man, 
but the priests rule him ; they have fettered bis 
mind with hesids ; they eat his meat, they drink . 
his wine, they ride hii^ horses, and if a murmur 
should escape him, he is threatened with the 
£re of purgatory. He thinks I am now kiss^g 
the shrine of Saint Martin; but T would mubh 
rather kiss— —'* 

Doctof. Take care-^you must humour the old 
man : — ^he is very rich, you know, 

Bohemian. I wish he may live to enjoy his 
wealth : I have an estate of my own ; I am fond 
of my pleasures, it is true ; but I am no spends t, 
thrift : I am not like one of those that live on 
the harvest of next year's sickle; I shall never 
drink a glass beyond the relish of it. He wants 
me to marry a rich «^idow : no> no, none of your 
jointured widows for me, even though she pos- 


ncsscd a palatinate; she would consider me as a 
purchase, and as such she would treat me : let 
jne have one of my own choice^ my equal in 
years, in estate, and temper. 

Doctor. A rare jewel ! 

Bohenamu A jewel that I could wear in my 
bosom. You have fine women in Hungary— 
(addressing hhnself to me). 

Author. I never saw many of my fair coun- 

Bohemian. Bijt- I Ijave seen many of them : 
such shapes and complexions — as straight as a 
pine-7-every hair finer than Cupid's bowstring 
—the lily and the rose contending for the em- 
pire of their cheeks — with lips like the bleeding 
ruby, and only made to kiss each other : how 
your cold philosophers and snarling cynics have 
endeavoured to decry the loveliest part of the 
creation ! It is for woman^ after all, that we 
live ; and it is woman that sweetens all the cares 
of life : it is for woman that the poet first tunes 
bis lyre ; the painter is happy to catch the dis- 
tant semblance of her angelic face : it is love 
that invites the sculptor's chisel, and wings the 
shuttle : in war, who would be roused by the 
sound of the trumpet, if the general did not tell 
us that we were called forth to bleed for the 
safety of our fair countrywomen ? 

Author. Though I cannot speak from expe- 
G 3 rience. 


ricncc, yet I feci (he truth of what ydu say# 
But war ^ 

Bohemian. Yes, war, I confess, has many in- 
ducements: the finest men,, the finest horses, 
the richest dress, the finest music, and the 
greatest reward— the heart and hand of the wo- 
man you idolize-^tiiese are the inducements that 
lead to the tented field. 

Author. We should not go to war for the sake 
of war. 

Doctor. But what will you say to the prince 
or general that lundles the flames of war merely 
for the sake of plunder or^onquest ? 

Author. I would be ^e of the first to meet 
&at prmce or general yti the gate on such an oc- 
casion; I should look on death to be glorious in 
such a cause. I know that there are spirits in 
the worlds who, salamander-like, can only ex- 
ist in fp^ ; such men, if it be fair to Call them 
by that name, may well be marked as the ene* 
mies of the human race. 

Doctor. May such names be gibbetted to all 
eternity ! 

The ^Bohemian entertained us with several 
stories of the tricks which he had put on monks^ 
to the no small merriment of the compan;^, 
which was now enlivened by the addition of the 
lady of the house, and her sister, a beautiful 
young woman, who had been bred in Prague. 



About ten o'clock, the lervant entered the room, 
and beckoned to his mistress. On hcrreturn^ 
there was something in her look that eclipsed the 
gaiety of the conversation. The Doctor begged 
that she would conceal nothing : she paused ; 
Mid having cast a look at me, she said she hoped 
that her fears wtne ill founded, but that ftome 
men of a swpicious appearance had been ob-» 
served wiilkipg vnder the hedge by the light of 
the moon. There was no time to be lost in deli* 
beration. As ihete was no place in the house in 
which I oottld be cOoc^led, it was agreed thai 
I should make the best p( my way to a wood 
that Uy ^X mnam dt*tance. I walked oot of the 
back door as softly, as I could^ and when I had 
gotteo about b^lf a mile off, 1 thought myself 
^aite aecii]re; when tiuee foen started from be** 
Uod a tiee, seized^ bottod me band and foot, 
and tl)ie w me aicrosa a hocse^ that was tied to one 
of the braochea. They swore in the most hor-^ 
rid manner, that if I attempted to make the least 
noise, they would immediately light a fire^ and 
burn me in it. Their threats, however, did not 
prevent me from calling out, which brought 
some people about us. The wretches swore that 
I was a ma^cian; that I had bewitched two 
monasteries^ and that they had caught me in 
conversation with the devil ; on which the people 
cried out, with one voice, " Burn him, burn 

6 4 him ! 


him !'* In this manner they carried me to the 
castle of Plindeburgh, where I was committed 
to the keep^ a dark, cold dungeon, forty feet 
under-ground. In this state I remained for three 
days and as many nights ; my only sustenance 
a little bread and water : on the morning of the 
fourth day, I was conducted into the presence of 
the governor, a venerable old man, descended 
from the ancient house of .Toekoeli ; he was co- 
vered with wounds, which he had received in the 
Turkish: wars. He desired that I should be un- 
bound : " Now,'* said; he, "I shall listen io all 
you have to say; but raise your voice; for iny 
hearing is rather duU/V I told him all in a^ few- 
words as I could:, when I had done,>be oixlered 
some bread and wine to be set befbte me; 
several officers were prcscht^ not one of whom 
attempted to speak; at Idn^h, the old man 
said, ** Your countrymen have not treatftd- you 
very well, arid yet it is to lines and eirctes'that 
they are indebted, in a great mtosure, for their 
safety: — ^this garrison is raised on the principles 
of mathematics." He then proposed a mathe- 
matical question to me, whidi I had the good 
luck to solve to his satis&ction. ** Well," said 
he, " to put you out of all danger at once, you 
had better join my regiment ; you are young 
and healthy, arjd you *11 make an excellent sol* 
dier in time." I assured him that I should be 



prood to have the honour of serving under him 
in any capacity ; that I was no stranger to tho 
mihtary achievements of his illustrious house ; 
that Hungary was still dear to me^ though I 
had been hunted down by a parcel of monks. 
The old general started up^ put his hand on my 
mouthy and said, " You must not say a word 
against the monks ; they rule this country ; they 
rule us; nay, they rule the J^mperor himself, 
God bless him. But we have gotten their spurs 
off, and, perhaps, through time, we may dis- 
mount them ; but, alas ! it will not be in my 
day/' He then called a non-commissioned 
officer, an4 desired him to take care of me, and, 
as I was fatigued, to procure me a bed, and to 
call with me the next morning. The sergeant 
had heard a good deal of what had happened to 
me, and as he had sees some service in Grermany, 
his mind was somewhat enlightened. He cursed 
the monks with all his heart ; and si^orc^ that if 
ever one of them attempted to set a foot in the 
garrison, he would bjjcket him. The next morn- 
ing, the old general gave me some accounts to 
copy out, and promised, that, if I behaved well, 
I should not be forgotten. I was happy to find 
that he was so universally beloved by the whole 
soldiery, that they would have laid down their lives 
for him ; and no wonder ; he had often led them 
on to victory, and:bound up their wounds with 
his own fingers. I began 

90 Lirn or tuomas saikvitz^ 

I began by degrees to like the life of a soldier 
tolerably well : when I was not oh daty, I used to 
employ my time in study. The officers were 
Tery kind to me, but the monks were determined 
to embitter my happiness^ as far as lay in their 
power. They were not the only enemies I had 
to contend with; the lawyers thought they, 
might make something of the matter, so they 
joined the cry with open mouth, determined td 
hunt me down at once. The general sent for 
me one evening, and ispoke thus : " You have ^ 
behaved very well ever since you came into the 
regiment, and I doubt not, in case of danger, 
but you would be the first on the breach, and 
the last in the mine: — yet, withal, I am sorry 
to tell you, that I received, about two hours ago, 
an Order from the chancery, to <leliver you up to 
the spiritual power. The lawyers of that court 
have drawn up an accusation against you, and 
I am afraid' they will not grant you a copy of 
it; and if they' even did, it would not avail you, 
for innocence is but a slender shield in the spi- 
ritual court: there, I am sorry to say^— (see 
that no one is listening) — ^ybu '11 find your judge 
your accuser, and your accuser your judge.— 
Heaven protect you, for I cannot." At these 
words he turned aside, and I saw the tear steal 
down his cheek. ^^ My good man !** 1 was im- 
mediately taken into custody ; a guard of twen- 
ty-five soldiers, picked out of a regiment comr 



po0ed of the refuse of all others^ received order% 
ia my hearing, lo conduct me to Buda^ the old 
capital of Hungary, When we had marched 
about mx leagues^ we were met by a troop of 
monks, mounted on the finest horses I ever saw. 
The instant I caught their eyes, they set up a bar- 
barous yell, in which they were joined by the 
aoldieiy : they looked at me to see what effect it 
had on me, but I never changed countenance. 
The morning was fine; but about twelve the 
sky was overcast, and in less than an hour the 
rain began to descend in torrents, as if the cis- 
terns of heaven had been broken. Our guide 
lost the way, and led us into a large plain, which 
was covered with water in the course of a few 
hours. The horses were so fatigued, that they 
could scarce move a foot; the soldiers cdoi* 
plained of hunger : the monks offered to divide 
their provisions with them, but they were not 
content with a division — they plundered them of 
all,' and told them, with a sneer, that they could 
djne on their prayers. At length, we reached 
the castle olF Pressin r I was committed to the 
strongest and the darkest cell in it. The next 
morning, I was told, that four of the friars, 
having caught cold, were in a high fever, so 
that the rest would stay behind to attend them. 
On the sixth day we reached Buda. I was com- 
mitted to prison, a loathsome dungeon, where I 



remained six weeks: at the end of that time, I 
was ordered to prepare for trial. The gaoler 
came to me about twelve at night with a large 
wax taper in his hand, and bade me not to be 
afraid, as the king himself would sit on my trial, 
and hear every word I had to say; adding, 
that the king was a great lover of justice, and 
that, if I was innocent, I would come out of the 
lirelike tried gold. In the morning he brought 
me a large basin of water to wash myself, with a 
clean.iinen doublet. I was so weak, that I could 
scarce ascend the steps that led to the court. The 
king was seated on a temporary throne; two 
archbishops on his right hand, with a row of 
monks and lawyers on his left. The appear-* 
ance, undoubtedly, made an awful impression on 
me. My accusers were first heard : there were 
four secretaries, in judiciary robes, who wrote 
down every word they said. They preferred a 
String of charges against me, drawn up in the 
most artful and plausible manner. The king 
then called on me for my defence, and desired 
that I would not be daunted, but that I would 
tell all, and advance nothing but the truth, for 
that truth was the best advocate in a court of 
justice. I began with the charges sertahm ; and 
when I had done, J addressed his Majesty in 
these words : ^ Oh, king Matthias, you hav« 
deigned, with a gracious car, to listen to the de» 


IfPfi 0^ titOMAS SAtKtlTZ. ^% 

tenet of the meanest, but at the same time one 
of the most loyal of your subjects. You are a 
lover of justice ;-^it is the brightest jewel in your 
crown : that exalted virtue is worthy of the cu- 
k>gium of Saint Cyprian t * Jusfida regis fax est 
^ foptihruntj tut amen patriae immunitas flehis^ mu- 

* nmentumgentis^curalanguofwn^gaudiuriihominum^ 

* temperies aeris^ serenitas maris, terra foecunditas^ 

* solatium pauperumy hareditas feUciwn, et sihimet" 

* ipn sfesfuturaheatftudmis^ You are called by 
the voice of Heaven to preside over a gallant na* 
tion, and the richest country in the universe ; 
but what avaus it that the clouds drop fatness 
cm our plains ; that our corn stands thick, and 
waves its golden song into the reaper's car, 
if science is to be persecuted by ignorance, 
self-interest, and superstition ? Of what am I 
accused ? — the study of mathematics ! ' a 
science that has enlarged the -boundaries of 
empires, and strengthened them afterwards 
against the invasion of the proudest foe ; — \ 
science that has istretched its lines over the path- 
less deep, by which the mariner has been able to 
steer his course with safety from one nation to 
another. The lovers of mathematics have been 
encouraged and protected by all wise and good 
kings : Thales the Milesian, Pythagoras, Ana- 
xagoras, CEnopides, Democritus, Plato, Eudoxus, 
Cnidus, were patronized by Pagan princes • 



shall th^ lovers of that study^ then^ find Icfll^ 
favour in the eyes of a Christian prince ?*' His 
Majesty then waved his band ; and after a pause 
of some minutes said^ <^ Heaven forbid thai 
th^ reign of Matthias should be stained with the 
blood of the innocent ! I have listened to the 
accuser and the actused, and I find that Thomas 
Sainvitz is innocent— 4hat he has been unmer^ 
cifuUy -perseculedj and my order is^ that he be 
sent back to his regiment, under a safe guards 
appointed for that purpose/^ There was a dead 
tflence for some minutes ; I fell oh my face> and 
thanked the father of his people. The monks 
and lawyers sneaked away. The old general re- 
ceived me with transports of joy: his Majesty 
settled a pension, on me, and ordered tjiat I 
should be provided with a number of mathema* 
tical instruments and books; so that I now, 
thank Heaven and my prince, pass my days in 
ease and tranquillity. 

I inquired about the steward, -and learnt 
that he had been beheaded by order of his lord, 
for attempting to poison the family* I never 
' could gain any tidings of my dear friend^ to 
whom I am indebted for the rudiments of all that 
I know. I thought it my duty to write this small 
pamphlet in justification of my own character ; 
I cannot conclude it, however, without saying, 
that there are many worthy monks in Hungary, 



but the generality of them prefer the sound of 
the dinner-bell to the sound of the bell that in- 
vites to prayers : as to the secular clergy of the 
catholic and reformed churches, I am much 
obliged to them ; they have taken my part on all 
occasions, and I am not a little indebted to their 
communication on several branches of science* 



, MR. Evana was born in the state of GHinec- 
ticut, in America ; he was educated in Yale Col- 
lege, where his genius outstript his years. Hi$ 
intense application to -study impaired his health 
at a very early period pf life : he died in the 
twenty-seventh year of his age. He left several 
poetical pieces behind him, which his friends 
collected after his death, and published in a slen- 
der volume. This little garland has been en- 
riched by some verses to his memory^ composed 
by different hands. 

Sad monarch of the wprld below. 

Stem guardian of this drowsy shade. 
Through thy unlovely realm I go. 

To seek a captive thou hast made. 
O'er Stygian waters have I passed. 

Contemning Jove's unjust decree^ 
And reach'd thy sable court at last. 

To find my lost Eurydice. Of 

^6 tHB PRAYER OF OUrJlEtf^^ 

Of all the nympbs, so deckt and drest. 

Like Venus'of the istanry train, 
she was the loveliest and the best. 

The pride and glory of the plain. 
O, free from thy despotic sway. 

This nymph of heaven-descended eharmt. 
Too soon she came this dusky way. 

Restore thy captive to my arms. 

As by a stream's fair verdant side 

In myrtle shades she rov'd along, 
A serpent stung my blooming bride. 

This brightest of the female throng : 
The venom hastening through her veins. 

Forbid the fr,e€zing blood to flow ; 
And thus she left the Thracian plains. 

For these dejected groves below. 

Even thou mayst pity my said pain. 

Since love, as ancient stories say, 
Forc'd thee to leave thy native reign. 

And in Sicilian meadows stray ; 
Bright Proserpine thy bosom fir'd. 

For her you sought th* unwelcome light. 
Madness and love in you conspir'd 

To seize her to the shades of night. 

But if, averse to my request. 

The vanished nymph, for whom I mourn. 
Must in Plutonian chambers rest, 
^ And never to my arms return. 
Take Orpheus too; his warm desire 

Can ne'er be quench'd by your decree; 
In life or death he must admire. 

He must adore Eurydice IC£« 

( »7 ) 


OF tiie witches^ and the estimation in which 
ib^ wierc held among the Danes and Anglo- 
Swanaj we have sopie cinious notes in Eftn^ 
Bauga Saga, and other Icelandic annals* One 
of them is thus described : ^f Thqro was an old 
woipan qamed Heida, famous: for her skill in 
dirination^ and the arts of magic, who fre- 
quented public entertainments, pr<edicting what 
lund of weather would be the year after, and 
telling men and women their fortunes*. She 
was constantly attended by thirty men scr- 
^ants^ and waited on by fifteen young maidens.'* 
?%ese yenerable hags were all old women ; for 
mge among our ancestors was always connected 
with an idea of wisdom ; and prinices ^pd great 
men were desirous to invite them to their houses, 
to consult them about the success of tbeir designs^ 
itht fortunes of themselves and families, and any fu- 
ture event which they desired to know. On these 
occasions, they made gre^t preparation for theit 
honourable reception, and entertained them in 
the most r^pectful maonen The description of 
the witch Thorbiorga, in Rauga S^a, and her 
interview with Earl Thorohill, are curious. She 
is represented as the only- survivor of nine sis- 
ters, all witches or fortune-tellers, who were fit- 
nous for tljpu: knowledge of fntarity, and who 

v6l« I. H frequented 


frequented public eDtertainmenl^Sy when invited 
Earl Thorchni, in order to be informed when a 
rsickness or famine would cease, which then 
rdged'in the country, ^ent for, and made proper 
.preparations for the reception o£ TfaorbiorgflL 
On her arrival in the evening, she was dressed in 
a gown of green cloth, buttoned from top to 
bottom; about her neck was a string of glass 
beads, and her head.was covered with the skin of 
a black lamb^ lined with that of a white cat ; her 
shoes were of calf's skin, with the hair on. tied 
with thongs, and fastened with brass buttons ; 
and on her hands were a pair of gloves, of white 
cat's skin, with the fur inward ; about her waist 
she wore a Hunlandic girdle, at which hung. a 
' bag, contamrng he? magical instruments ; and 
she supported herself on a staff, adorned with 
many knobs of brass. On her entrance, the 
whole company rose and saluted her, and £ad 
Thorchill advancing, took her by the hand, and 
conducted hev ta the seat prepared for her, on 
which was a cushion of hens' feathers. After 
some ceremony, and refreshment was set before 
her, Thorchill, ^humbly approaching the pro*- 
phetess, requested to know what she thought df 
his house and family, and if she would be pleased 
to tell them what they desired to know ? She 
^swered, next day she ;Would fully satisfy themi 
accprdingly, on the morrow,, having put her ioK 



Btraments of divination in order, she tommandcd 
Godreda^ one of her maidens, to sing the magical 
wiig called Fardlikurh, which she siing with so 
dear and sweet a voice as delighted the ciDDtipany, 
imd in particular the prophetess, who declared 
that she then knew many things respecting the 
ftmine and sickness which before she was igno- 
rant of. The famine would be of short conti- 
nuance, and the ^ckness would abate. Each of 
the family then a9ked her what question^ they 
pleased, and she told them every thing they 
desired to know. " 


(^Conversation hetween the King of Prussia nnd 
Christiaur Gellcrty Professor of Philosophy^ at, 
Leipsic; extracted from a Letter^ dated Leipsie^ 
faimary ay, 1761. 

THE 1 8th of October last, about three in the 
fifternoon, as Doctor Gellert, who was indisposed, 
tvas silting at his writing-table, in his morning 
gown, he heard a rap at his chamber door, and 
desired the person to enter. The gentleman who 
Aiade his appearance said to him, ** My name. 
Sir, is Quintus Julius ; t have long wished to 

H 2 have 

too KING 0;r PRUSjtlA 

bavp the bftuwr I now ei;ijioy, of hebpjidmg 0ri# 
of the greatest laen in the republic of letter^ ; JUt 
is. not; however, in njiy own n^me, tliftt I ^gp* 
proach yqja ; — it is on the part of his Pru^^iaa 
^ajesty, who i§ an:^^s tq see you, a^t^d hfih$» 
prdered one to invite yoi^ to c^ll on hiija/- 

Mr.GeUert^ a^fter ^me apologies on th^ iU state 
of h;s healthi was at leng^ ija|dji;ipEK^ accgmpwy 
3M^r ttuin^s, \s[ho ii)pcg4\i(xd hm te ^€. Kingt 
^ben tb? foUp.wing cowe^^atiion tpqk place; 

The King. Yqu ^p Profpsftor (Sellerfc ? . . 

GJ/^r/. Yes, Sire. 

The King. The British envoy has spoken of 
you as a man of great merit. — Of what country 
arc you ? 

Gellert. Of Hanichen, near Freyberg. 

T%e King. What is the reason that ^renbany 
has not hitherto produced any good writers ? 

Gellert. Your Majesty need only cast your 
«yes op one this instant, whose writings bave 
been judged worthy even by the French them- 
«elves, to be translated into their language, 
whence he has been hono.ured with the name of 
the German La Fontaine. 

The King. That is, undoubtedly, a great Y^99fi 
of merit. — Have you ever read La Fontaine ? 

Gelleri. Yes, Sire, I have read him; nqt with ^^ 
view of imitating him ; I am ambitious of b^ing 
an original in my own n^anner^ 


7»^Jr%. Ana I find that yott haV^ sdcr 
dftded ; but, ^rrer alU what is th^ rettsbtl that dut 
Ctetthaiiy cdnnat bdaSt of hiatijr such writeri a4* 

fe^/fcr/. Yoiii- Majesty ippeattb to be l*cjti^ 
d)dMAgiin6t the Gterttiah^. 

7X* JSufeif . Ndt at Alii I assure yod. 

^effh-ti Or at least j dgdlhst those thit vfrriitfe, 

*Tk* ^fef • It is tPiifc, I don't entfertkin d Blgfc 
^nibft;~How wriit* it that bdt coutttiry is Hot 
y^t inii^bted to one gbod historian ? 

0eikfrti Silrfej to many : Cratodr, atnbh^ the 
rest, has continued Bossuet : I lieted ^cSftie ihttt^ 
ti6h the itirhtd Mkitk^vr. 

The King. A German, the cbntiiiuator of Boi- 
suet !— hot*^ can thit be ? 

^ilkrh He had hot hicrely continued, bht he 
liaii exfeculed that difficult task with such siic- 
oiwSi that ohe of the ablest professors in ytlur 
MajfcStj^*& statfe^ has not hesitated to pronounce 
the continuation, in point of style and arrahge- 
ihfen^,- to be superior Id thit which Bossuet began. 

The.King. Be it so : but how is it that.Ti- 
dtus Has not y^i found a successful translator 
in Germany ? 

Geikrf. Tacitub is one of those writers that 
set translation almost at defiance; he is ex- 
tremely difficult. Little can be ijiid feveni in* 
praise of the French Iransldtions, 

The King. On this point, 1 am of yoti^ opi^ 
md^ H3 GcUert, 

|i)» KIKG OF PRtrsSIA 

Qetteri. Different causes haye conspiftld» tftn 
to the present moment, to impede the progress of 
the Qeripans iir the higher walHs of literature; 
When Greece gloried in the triumphs of the arts 
and sciences, th^ Romans were occqpied in ,the 
destructive arts of war, which almost extin-r 
guished the sparks of learning in their empire. 
In this respect, we may be compared to the 
Itomaps : to this melancholy truth may be4ifce- 
vise ad^ed, that our writers are neglected by 
those that ought to patronize them; this VfBS^ 
not the qasp. under the brilliant reigns of Au» 
gustos and Louis XIV. 

The King. Saxony has, notwithstanding, ptQr. 
4uced two Augustuses. 

Gsllert. Under the auspicious dawn 'i x 
. TheKmg^ But can it be otherwise expected, when 
the public mind is torn asunder by such divisions \ 

Qelkrt. That is not the ppint : I only wish 
that eveiy sovereign should encourage genius iq 
his own dominiotis. 

The King. Rave you ever travelled out Qjf 
Saxony ? 

Qellert. I have been oqce in Berlin, 

The King. I think you ought to travel. 

GellerL I do qot feel myself disposed to tra** 
yel ; and if I even did, my circumstances would 
i)pt permit me. ^ 

The King. What is your ordinary disease l^^. 
(Jiat q£ all tpen of letters, I prpsuwe, 


Gdkrf. Be it so, since youc Majesty has 
thought proper to give it that name ; it would 
be excessively vain in me to say so myself. 

Tie King. I am not exempt from its eflects 
myself; you should exercise more than yoju do ; 
you should . ride out^ and take rhubarb once a. 

Gellert. The remedy would be more danger- 
ous than the disease : if the horse vyas spirited, 
I should risk my neck : — I am but an indifierent 

The King. In that case you should take a 

• Gellert. I am not rich enough. 
. The King. Too frequently the case with the 
votaries of the muse ! Times are very bad. , 

Gellert, Yes^ Sire, very bad indeed ; but your 
Majesty can render them better. 

The King. How ? 

Gellert. By restoring the blessings of peace to 
the Empire. 

The King. How can I do that ? Don't you 
know that I have three enemies in three crowned 
heads ? 

Gellert. It may be ^o ; I am little acquainted 
with modern history; the ancient is my favourite 

The King. Whjch of the epic poets. Homer 
ijf Virgil, do you prefer ? 

H 4 Gellert. 

GeUerL ilonier, in point ef genius aM txta^ 
lW)tt, is certainly enlMed to the |)refeteilfee. 

The Kir^. Virgil is mette dbtrcct. 

Getkrt. Wie Hvi6 in iti age too reftt^ febm 
that of Homer, to be ibte to dectdte, ^ilh khf 
degree of confidence, on the style ind ttiafintta. 
of those early days : it is on the authority of 
QtuStiHlian that I give the Jnreference to Hoftiel'. 

Tke King. We ought not t6 pa^, in rAf 
judgment, too setvile a deference to tile opinidh 
of the ancients. 

Geffert. I do nbt boiJ^ to thdr bf)inidn tUtttly 
because they are ancients — that would be a loltbA 
submission indeetSi; but I kia lobliged to consult 
tbe sentiments of lothfefs in suth t, taseas thi^t in 
question, ^bi6h tirtie fea* erivefe^d in t cloudy 
tiiat I cannot ptenc6 'with ttiy otHrti eyti. 

The King. I am told thit J^oiit fables hft 
justly admired ; would you favour mfe With liic 
recital of one of them ? 

Gellert. I do not know, in truth, Sire, that t 
can trust to my toehibfy . 

The King. Try, I entreat you ; I shall pass a 
moment in my closet in order to give you \\mt' 
to recall your ideas. (The King^ on his refund.) 
Well, have you suc(5ccded ? 

Gellert. Yes, Sire, a short one : *^ A certain Athe- 
nian painter, in whose bosotn the l6Ve of fame bad 
extinguished every thought of fotttatie^ requested^ 


ANB (HOP £«S01^ BfiliLBItT. f^ 

dne dfcy, <tfaat k j^ge of hte art W(ki1d ^y^ hw 
opinion of a painting which Tepwfechtbd the God 
of wlar. The cawtoisseur V«ry candidly pointed 
^at what strnck hitn a^s defects, particularly th« 
too grdat appearance of ait thmujghdW tht \vfwl* 
of the composition. At the it¥sta^t^ k pbrson &i 
kss rdineid taste ^tepplid in^ who^ kt tite )^st 
ghikice^ eKdaiihed with transp^ort^ ^ Oobd He*^ 
^ vto, what' a picture! Mam is all ^M'frei fan 

* breathes ! — what terror in his toots l=^saQurT^ 

* thai foot-^those fin^ers-^those Aaite I ^-* What 
< taste t'^whatan air of gnahdistir in that halmfct) 
' aiidin all the arthou'r ttf the t^rribte Ctod !' Th« 
painter Ui^hed^ and let fall this whiBfy^ in tfett 
ear of thb i>omoisseeit t M am limmnoed <Mf the 
^ solidity of your judgment, and the jirttni^ bF 
^ your taste { on V^bich he dt^w his brtf sh Ovec^ 
the painting,** 

The Kihgi. N^w (f^t the rtoril. 

GellerL You shall have it z When the pM^ 
ductions of an author, on any subject whatever, 
do not meet with the approbalion of a man of 
taste and judgment, it militates very much 
against them ; but wheh they call forth Art ati^ 
miration of the weak and the ignorant, they 
ought to be committed to the flames. 

The King. Excellent. M- Gellert, I feel all 
the truth of your apologue, and the beauty of 
the composition ^ but when Gottsched read hia 


to6 tolALOGlTB B£TWB£9 

fiBhslaHon of the Ipl^Igenia of Racine, f had 
the original before my eyes, and I assure you, 
that I did not understand a word of what be 
read to me. If I should remain a few day» 
here', will you come and see me, and read some 
of your £ibles to me ? 

GelkrL I am afraid. Sire, that I should not 
please; I have got a kind of habitual tone that 
k not pleasing to a polished ear : I contracted it 
IP our mountains. 

The King. I understand : the tonatiqn of our 
Silesians: you should endeavour, however, to 
read your own productions, if you wish that 
they should not lose a great deal of their merit. 
-^Bat see me soon again, and often. — ^Farewell,^ 
M. Gellert. ^ 

The King was heard to say that night, at sup- 
per, ^' M. G^Uert is a man very different from 
Gottsched \ and of all the German writers, he is 
the most ingenious.'* 


NOW, cousin Feet 9 as we l)ave lived so 
many years in amity, what do you think if we 
were to converse a little together, on our past 

conduct ? 

3 ' Feet, 


F^et. I bate to think of what is past— 1 bate 
to talk of what is past ; — ^I always like to look 
forward. m^ 

. Hands. So far you are a philosopher* 

Fe^. Yes, I'm descended from a celebrated 
sect ; the Peripatetics ^ere all pedestrians^ 

Hands. Buta little conversation can do ns no 
^ F€^. Proceed. 

Hands. You recollect that I once stole a pair 
of shoes for you. 

Feet. What then ? 

Hands, you walked off with them. 

F^t. Or rather, ran off; for^ if I had not^' you 
would have been caught in maner^ as the lawyers 

Hands, fiut you never stole a pair of glovet 

i Feet. But I was fettered for the gloves you 
stole for yourself. 

Hands. And I was handcuffed for the shoes I 
stole for you. 

Feet. Dida*t I kick the fellpw that iandctifeJ 
you ? 

Hands. And didn't I cuff the fellow that fet-^ 
tered you ? 

F^^t^ So far we acted like sworn brothers. I 
hope you don't forget that I was put in the 
gtpeksj fpr the bottle of brandy you stole. 


liafkt. Thai Mfte Wab m ^duir ihrhat^^^^dtit 
dW*to«i fHfehdv 

JR?^/. I am afmid our poor throat will ^f fof 
all at last. 

tidHdi. AWdy^Uh JftttitptWdtetibnBl Yod s&y 
you like to Ibok fbhVird ; ^dii febdlild ioihKtitrie* 
letJk feehihd ytoiii. 

IT?^/. No, I leave that to my heels. 

Hands. In all our transactions, I iifevef 1^- 

Feet. Do you mean to say that I bSttaj^e^ 
you ? ' 

Hands. Rem^hrbbr thfe ^reat »ft<J«^' 

*fe^/4 Ttue; I wis irated, ^lid Wc wfere' 
aiught.-u*.Didn't I assist ^ou^ howeVcr, tb sdttte 
the wall? 

Hdndh You did^^i^ind tD swim the fivtt. 

Fee^^ Yes — ^and to climb the tree. 

Hands. Don't talk of Itisfes^-^tt-ets hdve b^n 
fatal to gentlemen of our professidnSt 
; Ftei. And will be sb^ I fear. Slntfe ydti hive 
touched on old sores, it has not escaped ybuir 
AietnoVyf I believe, that before you entered on 
your present Une of life> you signed a warrant of 
attorney, by >Vhich you ^ot ua allj back, belly, 
and bone*, into a stone doublet. 

Hands. It was in that tery stone doublet I 
kdrned all my tricks. 

Feet. I wiish yod could unlearn thiwn, b^uk 
that I see is impossible ; let me advise you now, 

I in 

attorney; and i( ffv^ ypi^ s^e c^lli?4 ^P9^ ^9 
ffup ypuf mf^k to ^oy bqnd, ¥l)v^^ ^Pi^^y. l^ \t 
^ppe^r qi^ (l^e left side ; ^hc^yglj it »iay fiqit 1^ §9 
honoij,ral>lc ^ po^t a§ on tkc i;ighj, ypH yc#;^ fyf4 
it a less dangerous one. 

Hands. True^ but I am surprised you should 
presume to give advice to your betters ! 

Feet. B^\t&i:sil I am descended, Mr. Hands, 
^j^n^the ancient family of the Legs: you ^rj^ it 
ifirtrue, descended from the proud family pf the 
Arms : both have bled in the cau^e pf thejr 
country, zu^'whcn yours could np Ipnger sustain 
the iight^ mine have borne them off the tente4 
field in safety, I know the Spindleshanj^s plait)[i 
kindred as a branch of my ancestors, and they are 
a oisgracc to it ; we are proud, howeyer, to 
acknowledge our obligations to Mr. Deputy Oak^ 
a sound race, the pride of Old En^lan^, and thp 
glory of Chelsea College. 

Hands. Come, come, our anc^tors. are eqpally 
illustrious. But, in point of educatipn — J caji 

Feet. And I can leave my mark. Has n't fpr-^ 
gery brought many a man to the gallow,s ? 

Hands. And has n't one fake sfep often done 
. the same ? — A truce, a truce ! — let up forget jilj 
that is past- — ^let us act in conpert in futur^. 

JFV^/. With all my heart: Til engage that 

you '11 


yoti '11 never attempt to put any plan tnto cxecti- 
tfon that yoQ won't find mc at the boffom of it : 
if you have a horse, arm my heels, and you MI 
btitstrip the wind ; or if you trust to me, you 11 
find kbki I *11 leave our pursuers far behind^ 


IN consequence of the defeat at Saragossa^ 
and the very low state to which France was rc;* 
duced, Philip* apprehended he should be obliged 
to. relinquish his pretensions to uif throne of 
Spain. Amongst others, it was suspected, that 
tlwi Duke of Medina Celi was in the inter 
rest 0^ his competitor, Charles. To rendet^ so 
powerful a prince inactive, would be almost 
equal to a victory; but the method to effect 
it seemed difficult, especially in the exhausted 
state to which Philip was reduced. Sir Patrick 
Lawless, an Irish gentleman, then a colonel in 
the French service, charged himself singly to se- 
cure the person of the Duke. Having pre- 
viously concerted all his measures, he repaired to 
the ducal palace, as charged with a special com- 
mission from Philip. He invited the Duke to 
take a walk on a fine terrace, in order to con- 
verse the more freely. As the conversation was 

♦ Philip V- 


interesting, they insensibly rambled to a const* 
derable distance from the suite of the Duke^ 
Bntil they ca^me to a passage which led to the^igh 
road, where the Colonel had a carriage in wait- 
' ing. Lawless in a few words told his Highness, 
that he must directly, and without the least ap* 
pearance of constraint, take a seat in the coach ; 
as he had engaged, at the hazard of his head, to 
bring him to Madrid, where he would find 
PhtHpready to receive him with opcto arms. The 
determined tone with which these words were 
uttered, the appearance of the man, and above 
all^ hisxharacter for resolution and bravery, in- 
duced the Duke to resort to the only alternative* 
They soon arrived at Madrid, where he met with 
a most gracious reception. The battle of Al- 
manza, which happened feome time after, made 
the Duke deem bis visitor, his preserver, as well 
as that of his immense estate. Jiawless was 
raised in a short time to the rank of Lieutenant-- 
general, and governor of Majorca, and in the 
course of a few years, Philip appointed him his 
ambassador to the court of Versailles. 



THEJSg yipleu to my fair I tiding. 
The piirplp pcog^i^ of Spfi^ | 
IS^of tJ^o^, d^ar girl, th^ ^ift refuse. 
Love's earnest tributp of the muse. 
"\Vhate'er has beauty,, wprtb, or power. 
Or grace, or^tretre, is a flower. 
A/Vitis'a fJower; and bards prepare 
The flowers of fancy for the fair. 
In flo^r of youth the loves appear, 
And- lovelier, blooms when thou art near 
Tte flpw^r of heajthu The dancing {ioura 
£^rt|i's joyful Ij^QSom dres^ wit^ flowers } 
Aj?4 t>^uty:*s flowery fitters binc(. 
In $weet captivity, tfie niir^d. 
With flowers the Graces Vepus deck. 
And these adorn a fairer necJk ; 
' That neck, whose paradisie to range, 
A flower I- -d pi-ove, and bless the change. 
One little ho^r I'd live, then die, 
J^ yi.olet va tha^t heaven, to lie. 
Of viqljets kiss.cs first were ra^. 
And Venus swore they ne'er should fade ; 
She swore, and by the oath she swore. 
The spell improv'd and charm'd the more : 
Purpling it rose, the fairest flower 
That ever grac'd the poet's bower ; 
To Laura's lips in haste it flew. 
And, blooming there, delights in yoij^# 




Still as you charm, some flower we trace. 

Some blossom of the mind or face. 

When graceful Laura leads the dance. 

We cry, The flower of elegance ! 

Doe's fashion's wreath her brow adorn ; 

We know the lAower of taste is bom : 

As the soft hyacinth is seen. 

The flower of breeding marks her mven. 

Von lily, symbol of her youth. 

Blooms near her heart the flower of truth} 

And well these violet buds expjtss 

Her beauty's spring of tenderness. 

But not the brightest flowers of springs 

Whose odours charge the zephyr's wing, 

Not all the vernal sweets that blow, ^ 

Tlie violet*s grace, the lily's snow. 

Like thee in lustre can compare. 

Or breathe so fresh, or bloom so fair ; 

For in thy boscmi dwells a flower, 

^pt time shall taint, nor death devour | 

A flower that no rude season fears. 

And virtue is the name it bears. 



DURING the troubles occasioned by the un- 
bounded ambition of the Princess Sophia^, it is 

* Eldest sister of the Cxar, who, on sedog her brother 
placed on the tHrone, made several attemptt on his life.' 
VOL. I. I well 

it 1 4 PETER- TH» ^RftAlr; 

well known, (hat Ihe revolt of the Strclitz* 
brought the empire of Russia to the brink of 

A brother of the famous Toitelawitau!, yarned 
Osakoi, a colonel of this body, was beheaded. 
This execution was followed by the forfei- 
ture of all bis property. The Colonel left a 
son behind him, in the most deplorable state* 
The young man miraculously escaped the offi- 
cers of justice, whom Peter had sent in pursuit 
of him in every direction^ and was so Idcky as 
to reach the cottage of a slave, who had lived 
many years with his father, where be remained 
concealed for some iQontbs; This domestic, who 
had shared the confidei^e of the father, ws very 
much affected with the situation of (he young 
son, as heir of one of the most iHu3triou8 
houses in Russia ; and as he had committed no 
offence, he thought the Emperor ought to have 
been satisfied with the bloocJ of his family, that 
flowed on the scaffold. These considerations 
dwelt so powerfully on the mind of the old 
man^ that he formed a plan, which he commu- 
nicated to Os^koi, and which w^a neither more 
nor less than the assassination of the Czar. Not- 
withstanding he had worked up the feelings of 
the youth to a great height, yet he trembled at 

* A militia, similar, in many rejects, to tliat of i}ie Preto* 
rlan amongst the Roraaus, or rather, the TurBsh Janisfaries* 


Qaib pr^iition;t bis pertonal fiafety, however, 
liH^ llUA tQM^99emble Ihe^impicfision that k 
iai4dei SQ fitir aq tft liatea t^ the o^eapa by which 
it was to be c^ied i»to «Ki:Mi)t)oii^v The slave, 
lutving auppos^d (hat; he. had; succeeded iQL si** 
looping the .totce of religiQn and icxmsciencc^ 
j^(i9poae4 <^M he abould aet.put for Moaoow, 
where he assured him he would meet with a 
^ru6^ ba^d of coaBpirators^ ready to ^place him 
^ rthe^ hei^v Actuated at last p^haps by the 
ioieroal spirit of ireveqge, or the victiiB of weak- 
m^j Qsal^oi followed his conductor. Tbejr 
arrived at night, and took up their lodgipg^ au 
iuD, near Kremlin^ the residepqeof the Emperon 
.IThe slave having foupd his friends^ it was 
agreed^ that, as no time was to be lost, they should 
'4iold a council that very night in the ruins 4>f a 
house within a ^hof t distance of the palace. 
../During all this time, Osakoi had not been 
lable to draw from his guide any knowledge of 
th<^ number or quality of the conspirators : he 
pressed him earnestly on these important points^ 
but in vain, 

, ^^ The hour of meeting approaches," said the 
.alave ; ^* you are now going to jo^ a number of 
persons^ animated with a spirit of revenge. 
J^otwithstan^ing your youth imd inexperience^ 
they have chosen you as their head. The hu- 
4iuliating state, p9* which yog are reduoed^ and 

I a the 

H6 nttTi THE GREAT. 

the blood of youir &tfaer, which cries ajoud for 
Tengtance, ought^toiyerveyourarm'and inflame 
"your counige : resblution is all that is wanted to 
crown the attempt with sacc^s T' 

These wordd made Osakoi tremble^ especially 
•^ the inn was full of a great liumbdr of Rus*^ 
sians, who, dccotding to the cu^fomi of t^ coun«* 
try, drank for- the sake of drink. 

It is true the slave spoke in a low voice, and 
in a dialect little known to the* Russians at Mos^ 
cow; but that was no reason that some one 
might not have overheard and understood the 
discourse. • 

The slave and Osakoi repaired to the place 
of meeting, where they found all the conspira-* 
tors already assembled. 

• " You see/' faid one of thcim, who appeared 
to be the principal, addressing himself to Osakoi, 
^'^ a circle of unhappy men, who have escapbd 
the tyranny of the Czar. The greater part of 
'Our brethren the Strelitz have perished by the " 
hands of the common executioner, and some of 
them even by the hands of the barbarian him- 
self : he has not, however, been able to extend 
his fury to usi Heaven has resierved us for the 
instruments of its justice. The mpftient is now 
arrived : young Osakoi, I followed your father to 
the scaffold ; I saw his blood stream down the 
bbek, but I could not save him. From that 



time to this, a period of ten years^ we have wan« 
dered through pathless deserts; pressed with 
hunger, we have often done those things which 
did not hecome soldiers ! But in a day or two • 
this unfeeling tyrant, and his haughty courtiers^ 
shall fi^ll beneath the edge of our swOrds. Young 
man, we loved your father ; he was our leader ;/ 
we now call on you with one voice to fill his 
place; it is in your power tp render yourself 
worthy of our choice/' 

Osakoi felt, under these circumstances, that the 
only alternative was to accept of the choice ; and 
that the least appearance of dismay would be the 
signal of instant death : he therefore put on 
every appearance. of courage and unshaken reso- 

It was agreed by the conspirators on parting, 
that they should assemble the night following, 
in the same place, and at the same hour. Osa- 
koi and the slave set out to return to the inn by 
different roads. 

Osakoi had scarce walked thirty paces, when 
he found himself by the side of a Russiaa> who 
begged of him to follow him« As he took him 
to be. one of the conspirators, he assented. Hav- 
ing arrived at the foot of a narrow staircase, they 
ascended, and entered a little room : the Rus- 
sian shut the door. 

<^ Poo't be surprised,'* said the Russian, ** at 

J 3 what 


what I am going to say ; it reqcnres the grort* 
est secrecy. I have jast come ftpm the mcetiiig^ 
as well as you, where the death of the Czar was 
resolved on. It was the first time that I wag 
admitted into that assembly as well as yourself, 
aad> like you, the spirit of revenge has rendered 
ne the irreconcilable enemy of ifoy sovereigfy# 
But, if his blood is due to the cruelties with 
which he is charged, our eompanions will do us 
little honour. For, in short, who are these con^ 
apirators ? Guilty subjects, covered with crimes^ 
who have fled from justice! a vile crew, that 
breathe nothing but murder, pillage, and theft. 
And who are their aoiomplices ? TPie first per- 
sons in the state ; but they did not venture ta 
name any one of them* They could not ; for 
what man of worth or honour would contami* 
nate himself with such a gang ? And what plot 
have they cjevelopcd to ensure success ? fop 
wliom are we to risk our lives ? Of the projects, 
means of execution, resources, &c. nothing is 
known. Do they wish that we should be the 
blind instruments of such an enterprise ?- I have 
now, young Osakoi, stated my doubts and my 
fears respecting that meeting. The conspirators 
have named you their chief; I subscribe to the 
choice ; but I wish to be informed on these 
points, and then you may repose on my arm.** 
A heart solely formed by nature^ which cbarico 


PJR£& THE 6!^ EAT. M9 

had thrown at a distance from the intrigues of 
the. city and the poison of a court, is little sus- 
Ge{>tible of treason : such a heart can little sup* 
]^dse. that any one would endeavour to deceive 
it. Osakoi was struck with the openness of the 
Russian, and that openness induced him to un- 
bosom himself with the same frankness. '' You . 
may have noticed my surprise/' said he, ^^ ot| 
seeing myself in the midst of such an assembly^ 
Satisfied with my lot^ I was contented with mjr 
humble' cottage ; a stranger to ambition, I net* 
ther look^ for nor desired any thing beyond it< 
A person endeavoured to call forth the tears jo( 
filial aiTectioQ in my eyes^ he told me, that I 
ought to revenge the blood of my- father ; and, in 
carder to revenge it, 1 ought to murder my sove^ 
reign. But have I knov<rn that father ? am I 
certain that he was innocent? and in this 
doubts am I to spill the blood of my master ? I 
freely confess that this proposition is repugnant 
to my nature. For who am I to judge my em*» 
peror ? What right or what authority has Hea- 
ven given me to punish him ? The proposi- 
tion froze the blood in my veins, but the fear of 
death sealed my lips, as the words expired on 
them. Since you have opened your heart, read 
what passes in mine. I detest the grime, and 
particularly a crime of so black a dye. A secret 
Toice cries within me^ Love and respctymr sove* 

14 reipif 


reign! Pity my youth. I coaimit myself to yoi»r 
counfel ; snatch me from those barbarians^ who 
singled me out as the executioner of their master 
mnd of mine ! for if it is decreed, that I shouU 
either perish, or that I should attempt the life of 
the Csary I - prefer to 6ie innocent/' 
• ' " You shall not perish, my son,** cried the 
Russian ; ^Mt is the Czar himself that speaks to 
you, and who will not fail to reward the ooblo 
frankness of your sentiments." 

It was undoubtedly the monarch himself, who^ 
under the disguise of a slave, had heard part of 
the plot in the inn, which led him to mix in the 
assembly in which his fate was to be determined. 
He had tnarked the timidity and confusion of 
Osakoi in the answers which hc gave in that 
meeting, and promised in l^is mind to save him^ 
if he did not find him absolutely culpable. . 

Those who tnay be led at first view to look 
on this as a romance, should recollect, that the 
life of Peter the Great was filled with events of 
this kind. - . 

. This prince, born to be the creator qf bis 
country, and who wished to see every thing with 
iiis own eyes, used often to disguise, and intro- 
duce himself into those public assemblies, in 
wbich drunkenness and debauch rendered the 
tongue incapable of concealing'a secret ; and it 
wa» by this cQudiact, dangerous as it was, that be 



discovered upwards of twenty plots which had 
been formed against his life ; so that the people^ 
who at once feared and respected hicD» used to 
say in their merry meetings, Cottle^ let us be ho* 
rmt ; the Emperor hears us. 

Having loaded Osakoi with thanli^s and ca« 
resse^, he desired him to join his com])aiuon in 
the inn, and that he might say in excuse for his 
delay; that he was unacquainted with the streets 
of Moscow. 

The slave was satisfied with the excuse, and, at 
the appointed time the next night, Osakoi went 
to the meeting. It was there agreed on, that the 
palace should be set on fire, and that in the con- 
fusion, whilst part of them should be engaged ia 
pillage, the rest, led on by Osakoi, should joia 
the conspirators in the castle, who would ad^ 
vance towards the apartments of the Empetmv 
who, in the moment of his appearance, was to be 
assassinated. Tliey then began to administer the 
oath, by which they were to bind themselves (o 
each other, when the imperial guards rushed in 
like a thunderbolt. They were arrested, con* 
veyed to prison, and executed the next day* 
Osakoi was amply rewarded by the Emperor^ 
and lived many years afterward<.in the sunshine 
of hi? f^voqr. 


fZ4 LETTEk new vriixiAsi LAirnsK 

against King Charics L who, io oider to blast the. 
irpvtatioD of tliat priooc^ the oodoobted aothorof 
EUuMi Bastlike, stole a prayer oot of Sir Flnlip 
Sidnc/s Arcadia, and obliged the printer of the 
Sang's book, under severe penalties and threat- 
cnings^ to sol:^otn it to his Majesty's perfcmn- 
aocc^ and then made a Indeous outcry against 
bis own action^ merely to create a jealousy, as. 
was observed just now, that if his Majesty was 
not the author of the prayers in that Treatise, he 
WM far less the author of the Treatise itself^ 
which thing is believed by thousands to this day^ 
solely on the credit of Milton's afHrmation^ 
when he was the architect of the imposture him- 
self* Now, if that action, when committed by 
Milton, is without malignity, why should it be 
deemed so criminal in me ? And if it is culpable 
in me, as I deny not, it is also equally cuIpaUe 
in Milton, or more so, as he was the first trans* 
gressor, and as I only transcribed his worthy p^t^ 
tern, to give people a just idea of the nature of the 
action Milton was guilty of against the King, 
which they would never have been so sensible 
of, bad I not acted so by him ; as it is natural 
for people to be more ^i&cted where they are in- 
terested themselves, than when they are not 
concerned, and with present things more than 
things long since passed, and out of their rdach. 
.The foiroess of which proceeding against Mil^ 
t*!\ ton 

ton (though I pretend not thereby to exculpate 
myself) is sufficiently justified by the approved 
maxim of the poet, 

^ Sua quisque exempla debet «quo animo pati.'* 

For, allow me to tell you, it will not be To- 
land's opinion or testimony that will invalidate 
ihe evidence, which, I believe, would be admit- 
ted as competent in any court of judicature in 
the llingdom, whereas all the world knows what 
kind of a man Toiand was. 

Now, if this be the case, as you very well 
know it is, do you think I deserved so much to 
be reproached as I have been, only for acting 
by Milton as he acted by the King, and that witli 
an express view to paint forth the horridness of 
the action, though at the expense of my charac* 
ter for a time, till the true design was unra- 

And on this topic I intended first to have de- 
fended myself, where I must have alleged your 
authority, as from you alone I derived the in* 
fofmation, had I not reflected, that his Grrace 
the Archbishop of Canterbury, my Lord Chancel- 
lor, and several other great men, gave me a per- 
nftssion to make a new edition of some authors, 
whoni it is certain in the opinion of some, and 
probably in the opinion of others, as the judg- 
ments of men urc various, that Milton consulted 


k2$ iETtElt BROM Wll4I4Bl LAttDEtt 

in compoeiag hispoenit ittld t^iMcx^hc them fil 
their iUustrklus naiMs; bilt u|^><i this expresf 
condition, that I was not to pgruMf hit ^eps aay 
farther, with te&pect to his imitation of th^se 
authors, but leave every reader to judge for him- 
self, as also to forbear from ttt totber acrhnony 
against this great wrifen 

Now, do you think it just; or feasooable thai t 
should be so severely reflected ilpon for fulfilling 
inyengageaient given to thciw! .groat meHj by d«* 
nving the whole blan^e upbn.m3^ei^ rather than 
by disclosing Milton'ji vile forgery against, the 
King^ to become the author bf «iy ^bjic ^ist^rb* 
jSnoe, by sowing the seed tif jfcaloufty bMween the; 
^kiiends and enemies of MiboA)^ bofth-v^tupbt you 
knoTV) are nuniepdus; and'oiMisequentty ndipi^ 
ntetering futi to inihrnie the anioKH^ity of coii^«- 
tending parties ? . 

1 declare, therefore, sincerely, that had not 
Milton acted so by the Kipg/^i I aoi convinced 
in my conscience he did, and for which wi^, \i^$yc 
indisputable evidence given US| I would b^ve 
subft^itM to any punishment s^of^er thoAC^hi^ 
to have oifeccd such violence to truth, pjr p»t 
duch an impo^tion on Miltoji^ or the public. 

For what is the v^sl r^puts^tiot^ that MiUoo 
enjoys as a poet» to mo ? ^ 1 |i^vf» hq intention 
or ambition, f«r U$s ^bilityi ia riv^l l^im ia that 


TO Dtt4 IIlteR. 11/ 

My. quarrelj thereforcy with . Milioo^ should 
fiat have becii (qt taking assistance in composing 
Jbis poem, which was absolutely necessary, nay^ 
highly commendable, but for usiag unfair praq- 
ttoes to accomplish his political purposes^ which 
tw|^ highly criminal and unjust. 

As for the intapolations, I hope I have it in my 
power to replace them twenty-fold, which I am 
resolved shortly to do, to the conviction,. I trusty 
of all persqns of judgment, candour, and learn^ 
ing : — others, it is impossible. 

Thus have I told you sincerely, the true mo- 
tive which itiduced me to interpolate a few lines 
into some authors, quoted by me in my late Essay 
on Milton, whidi has made as great a noise 
almost as if I had denied the divinity of our 
laviour^ ridiculed his amK^^ or dedaced open 
vrar against Heaven and earth: and yet not more 
than about twenty or thirty lines,, at most, of 
Milton, were affected by them, which I hope I 
have in my power amply to replace. 

So, after this honest confession of the truth, if 
you will be pleased to pardon my offence (occa- 
sioned rather by sm imprudent zeal to vindicate 
the character of two great and good men, when 
unjustly attacked, than from any malicious de- 
^ig9 of impqsi^ ifpon the public), ^Iso to favour 
fine with yoiir best advice at this (^itical junc- 
ture, qow that m^^tters are on th« mending hand, 
X and 

,t2& tti^ CRlPFLE OF B£t\H£SDA» 

and as his Grace has been pleased to set a gboj 
example to others, I promise always^ to retain a 
gifHtefuI sense of your civility and friendship^ 
and to requite it to the utmost of my power* 

I send you a copy of my Apology, addressed 
to his Grace, which has been attended with sttch 
good success j so ample is his Grace's placability 
and clemency ! Your liberality, I hope, will be 
displayed with equal readiness to one^ who is 

Your mtich obliged. 
And most obedient, humble servant, 

W1ELIA14 Lauder. 

I cannot forbear transcribing these lines from 
Ramsay r 

Adcumulare bonis inopes, succurrcre lapsis, j^ 
Consukre adfiictis, oppressos clade levare 
Divee est mentis opus^ quod Coeli gessit obire 
.Arbiter, et studiis jactat sese impiger ipsis. 

Vale, et fac similiter. 



MR. Montgomery was bom in the town 
of Enniskillen, in the north of Ireland; a 
town long famed in the annals of that country^ 


«s tile ftpkfbl mother of tuts and anng. ; Hkving 
learnt to read and write «t an English school, 
he was placed under the instruction of the cele« 
hrated Doctor Ddnkin, who at ihe time presided 
over the, free school, of EnniskiUen, which may 
wdtt he. catted .the Eton c£ the sister kingdom* 
Die -Dobtor. paid the greatest attention to* our 
young pupil| as he. soon found that he was not 
borur under the <^ laggard, o];b of Saturn/' 
Havings acquitted hiibself to the satisfaction of 
a teadher; ** zealous for desert," he was remoyed 
from this seminary to Trinity College/ Dublin, 
where he w^s entered as a pensioner. 

It :does not appear that he wasted a great deal 
of the midnight oil in the prosecution of the 
studies prescribed by the statutes of that uifi- 
Tersity ; he seems to haye been content with the 
ordinary acquisition of them* If his academic ex.- 
trcises, however, did not sparkle with genius, 
th^. shone with solidity. His prospects in life 
having been clouded by the death of a friend, 
he graduated, and entered into holy orders, and 
matrimony,. within a; few mpnths of each other. 
He married Miss Hughes, daughter of the Rev. 
Mr. Hughes, a beneficed clergyman. As she 
was an oiily child, the father spared no pains on 
her education ; 90 that she was considered as one 
of the most accomplished young women in that 
part of the. country ; where, it is but justice to 

VOL. I. & * say. 

say^tliM cukiTation of thsieimie middfofflroptsrlji 
considercii 9s an object of the fifst impdrtance^ 
Whca the: writer of lhi|; kitevr Mu Mooitga- 
Biery first (in Ibe year ^780)^ he was tfiirirte of 
the parish of Scrabbj, ioeai* Granardy ill the 
coit^ty of Longford* !Disappoiatineists» the^pro* 
»p^t of a fstnily, &t« seemed to have d/optemki 
HiS spirits/ f6r he wu/^ natarally of a chiMcfol 
disposition) comUDimicative; and could discoiirse 
on an J subject 'almdst, whh facility and f^tkityv 
If he is livteg, 1 hope he wiil excuse the liberty 
I have taken, by irttrodueing him to public no- 
tice ; perhaps, the very last thing in the world 
his modest diffidence would submit to : if he is 
dead, it is a debt 1 owe to the livkig; not to 
withhiifd from them so fine tk sipecitnen of chaste 
amd pathetic poetry. Th^ foUowing Knes w<>ttld 
seefti ft) have been written at a jperiod whai i^is 
serisibiJit jr had been roosed by being ovtrloofced 
in the hitinble and necessitous sihiatioii^ of a 
eurafe. Vffdted^ ingetm>M aind susc6|i(ible 
vAttds must needs be 'hurl! by rdSkctiil^^tbat iftejF 
who do al4 the work iiearly in tht ChnlrtilWi Ytne- 
yard, havciscarcely dafily bi'^ad for their ^ins-^ 
scarcely the crumbs^hietl4ill$'from tfaei^iT msist^* 
lable, whilst othais' «f''fh^if bretlmft toit^ iftdbfa* 
jfiots, and riot 1*1 piJi^tedici liWtfry. • •» 

At famM Bethesdjji's'pobT, near^'Salem*sgate, 
' 'While Salein flourished in her ngil state, 
• . • ' fitill 


Sull crowds cf cripples in arrangement lay^ 
ImtNUient waiting the restoring day ; 
iVhere^ at set times> as we recorded find. 
An angel^ in compassion to mankindj 
By tinge divine, such efficacy gave. 
Who first immerg'd^ was rescaM from the grave. 
And, quite forgetful of his former pain^ 
View'd his less haj>py brothers with disdain | 
Yfit-atill but one at ciie immeruon cur'd. 
The T€si their pains another year endur'd; 
Whilst he wip no kind aid had hardly got. 
In sight of health, might o^ the margin rot. 
A cripple here for years neglected lay^ 
Still hoping ev'ry turn to get away } 
But friends in tpwp^ still otherwise employ'd^ 
Forgot ht# pains, as ^^ey their health enjoy'd ; 
Not so they promisfd, when they left him 4here^ 
But words are winjd, and vfus^isii intp ^l- 
The bl^ BMkem^ at ^e pool appwr'dy 
^ The lasar'i^ tale of woe he knew ere beard; i . 
<« Take up thy bed and walk,'' the Saviour cries ; 
Lo! strength through all his limbs likelightnmgfiic8« 
Elate and wond'ring, on his feet be stood) 
Burst into teais^ and glorified his God* 
So, when death's ^xigel, with a cold embrace^ 
Welcomes a raptor to the throne of Grace^ 
Each lazar curate^ in his fortune lame. 
Strives to immerge into prefisrmenfs stream ; 
Ufh has his friend to aid him on the way ; 
They plunge, emerge, then cast the crutch away^ 
Forget their cot,^ small beer, and rusty gown. 
Get taste for wine, and residence in town, 

K a^ Grov^r 

l-j^ a; = <5(MTFESSi6ir. 

Grow dull, ahd rtiadyy ittiolcnt awd chufi^ ■ ' '^ 

And think their qiiohdath brethren have tocwigfrf ' 
Whilst cripple I, of -mterest bereft, •• ' ' 

Still on the clajr-tsold margin here am left^ 
No friendly hand its timrfy aid «tipplics>' ''' i ' ^ 
Ani stiir I l!6tler, as I stAve'to rise^ '• ' ' ' 

Yet, twelve long-years have! this'stalidtt kept, ; ' /' 
Of all th^5oy^6f sociaPlifebereftt^' --• - • |- 
Banish'd from friends> from townyiritfaff tftoist deaij 
To starve gerlfeel,- onibrty pounds' a'yeafV" * 
Three helpless. balbes/ a srster, arid af Wife^, 
To furnish with the Tequiiites of ' life j - ' 
A purse-proud ilpstatt sneering on my "farm, - 
Who 'd pledge his.soul td do a gownsman hariri*! 
Of fam'd Astrea here no trace is foundi 
Her fed 6a tender, and so hard tfee 'ground! " 
Tho», who ih'^rme cbuldSl ito^ ttie- cHppfe seod^ 
By all deserit^^ sd divine a fiiehd't ' ' ' / : :. 

Who by^a wokI eould ibmier healfh reitbife, ■ 
And bresdc those bands that fettered him befotd j ' 
With pity toueh^by Iov*d apostle's breast, ' * ' ' 
•To ease my wants, or take me to thy test| - * 
SmalPs myrfequest, as little I deserve, * "* ' ' '" 
^Tis only that I may not preach aitd^iitarvej '* * '' 
Since sacreti writings these directions* give> ' ' - 
Who at the altar serve, shall by it "live; "' '" 'J' 


ACOSTA, ill his' fiistory of tbc Indies, 1. r. 
• ^5, relates a sfrangc mode of confession, 


CONFESSfOlir* tj^, 

observed by the Pagans in Japan :. " There are," 
saith he, "in, Ocat:a^ very high and steep rockSj- 
\yhich have spikes in themt above two hundred, 
fi^thom high, one of which surmounted the rest, 
fpr height^ at>d to the Xambuses (a kind of pil-^ 
grimsj or pretended reUgious meA of that coun-, 
try), terrible to behold : upon the top thereof 
there is a great rod of iron, three fathom long^ 
placed there artificially ; at the end of which is 
tied a balance, the scales whereof are so big that 
a man may stt in one of tfaein ; and the Coquis 
(the devils in human shape, wliom they worship) 
will often commi^nd dne of th& said Xambuses 
to enter into one of them, and there $it : forth7 
with by an engirie, the ro4 springs forth, and is 
pendent in the air, and the empty scale mounts 
up, and the pilgrim €\tli.^ proportionably in the 
other ; then the Coquis telleth him, that he must 
confess all the sins that he can remember he ever 
committed, with an audible voice ; at the recital 
of which, some of the heathens ((who assemble 
in great numbers to the ceremony) laughy and 
others sigh. At every sin mentioned, the other 
empty scale falls a little, till, having told all, it 
remains equal with the other, wherein the sor- 
rowful penitent sits : the Coquis turns the wheel, 
and draws the rod and balance to him, and the 
pilgrim^ empty from all his sins, and clear as the 
child unbom> comes forth ; but if any sin be 
K3 concealed. 


concealed, the empty scale yields not to an eqm-' 
Mrium, and then if the pilgrim grows obstinate^ 
and will hide any crime, the Coquis casts htm 
down from the top, where instantly he is broken 
into a thousand pieces : but the terror of the 
place is such, that few will conceal any things 
and therefore is called sange hotocoro, that is, the 
place of confession.^ * \ 


The Speech of Henry DowdaiJ, Esq. Recorder of 
Drogheda^ to King James IL at Ms £ntry into 
the Town of Drogheda^ April the ph^ iS%^ 
Imprimatur^ Patrick 'Clpgher^ 


> AMOK6 the ciany miracles wfaicfa adorn al- 
most eVery step and passage pf your most sacred 
Majesty's life, ^e think none moi^ conspicuous, 
taken in all jt$ circumstanoes, and providential 
accidents, than your Majesty's late, more than 
miraculous, landing in this your andent, loyal, 
and long suffering l^ingdom; a bliBssipg bj^.ao 
much the more surprising, by how much tjbe less 
expected ; a blessing of which our ancestors 


TLAvnKr. X35 

never could dream, when their thoughts were 
proudest ! a blessing for which we ourselves 
never could hope, when our misfortunes allowed 
no other consolation but what we were forced to 
seek in dubious prophecies, or iq our almost 
worn and tried devotion ! a blessinjg, in fine, 
which late posterity will scarcely believe, be it 
never so credulous. 

For our sliares, great Sir, we arc forced to 
confess, that the novelty of our present happi- 
ness is still so surprising, that joy of the one 
side, and wonder of the other, have so divided 
our souls, that we can scarcely find leisure for a 
single thought ! yet, we cannot but perceive, 
that as the descending of a God was formerly 
requisite to the restoring of lapsed men, that 
even so the coming of a godlike king was abso- 
lutely requisite to the redeeming of a loyal, dir- 
tressed people from a captivity, in its cause, du- 
lation, and severity, not to be paralleled in story. 

In effect, great Sir; faint beams from a dis- 
tant sun through so many thick intervening 
clouds, were scarcely able to dissipate the jeti- 
vehomed fogs, for almost forty years go predo* 
minant in this isle ; and nothing less could do it 
than the more powerful warmth of that sun- 
shine, which on your Majesty's first landing 
overspread our hemisphere. 

And though we cannot but utterly abhor and 
K 4 detest 


detest the first moving cause of this your most 
gracious visit, yet cannot we but praise and bless 
Providence for having raised to us on the perjury, 
treachery, and perfidiousness of others, a fait op- 
portunity of exerting those loyal principles 
which our slaughtered ancestors signed with 
their blood, and avowed with their dying groans. 

Yes, sacred Sir, it must make for the credit of 
long wronged Ireland, that she still suffered for 
and with her royal master ; and if now there be 
found in her any distemper, or present humours, 
it proceeds from too great fulness of pampered 
traitors, who, gorged with the fat of loyal suf- 
ferers, must at length have broke out in the old 
sores and ulcers of rebellion. 

But since it pleiased Goid and you, great Sir, 
to have preserved the head and heart still sound, 
the malignance of the distemper being no\y . 
cast into the extremity of one limb, and the sore 
being brought to maturity, your Majesty may 
with safety apply a discretionary medicine. 

What remains to me, great Sir, is humbly to 
implore your Majesty's acceptance of a sacrifice 
which this day I am commissioned to offer : it 
is, great Sir, the hearts and hands of this adoring 
crowd — the lives and fqrtunes of all these, the 
ancient inhabitants of your Majesty's most loyal 
town of Drogheda. That their blood is sincere, 
and proof against the scurvy of rebellion, wit- 


ness those walls; witness the pavements, con- 
secrated by the gore of then:* ever faithful pro- 

We will conclude, great Sir, with a short 
prayer; and it is not that your Majesty may either 
protect us in^ or restore us to our lost property, 
our churches, or our benefices ; no, our loyalty 
is so seraphic, that it rejects all those drossy 
allays of self-interest ; but it is, sacred Sir, that 
Heaven (whose darling we are sure you are) 
may grant to your most sacred Majesty, after 
having dashed to pieces all treasonable and tr^* 
lorous associations and conspiracies; and afier 
haying soared, like a sun in its full meridian, over 
the heads of all your enemies, and naturally re- 
bellious subjects, after having dismembered re- 
bellion . itself, tha;t infernal hydra, and driven it 
into its hellish mansions, where we were sure it 
took its first breath, a happy, a speedy, a safe 
and glorious return to your ancient imperial 
throne; in siiccess, a Caesar; in conquest, an 
Alexander ; and a Constantine in religion* 


< '38 ) 

DUKE OF YOfllk. 

Speech of Sir Richard Stoit^ Recorder of th^ 
ancient Town cf Berwick upon Tweedy spoken 
to his Royal Highness the Duke cf York^ lipon 
his Entrance into Berwick. 


WE huroWy and heartily <?ongratulate your 
coming to this poor but ancient town, a place 
mme considerable for its situation than its fcwr- 
tunc ; yet, happier now than in former times^ 
Vf hen it was made a butt for the two kingdoms 
to shoot at. Without our walls^ great Sir, ydii 
may see those hills, where that royal blood 
^hich runs (happily united) in your princely 
TBins, whilst it was divided betwixt youv English 
and Scottish ancestors, did contend for empire 
and for glory ; and it is our happiness that this 
place, which was once the utmost limits of two 
great kingdoms, is now the middle of our sove- 
reign's dominions. We of this corporation were 
the most ungrateful of subjects, and the unwor^ 
thiest of men, if we did not pay all duty and 
obeisance to your princely person. Your royal 
grandfather (whose sacred p^me you bear) was 



our founder; he gaVc us, not only our pnTilcgcs, 
which are great, but our subsistence, which sup- 
ports us ; and be tells us plainly, in his mort 
munificent charter, that he did to oblige uft 
to pay the greater duty and loyalty to him and 
his posterity for ever. Your royal father, the 
mirror of kings, was our benefactor, and oar 
gracious sovereign hath largely extended hit 
bounty to us^ and we know that we caimct 
better express our duty and loyalty to him, than m. 
giving testimony of it to you^ great Sir, his only 
brother. We have yet powerful motives from 
yourself: your noble and heroic actions have 
been the wonder of all Europe^ nor can any 
Joyal heart forget how boldly and prodigally you 
ventured your life for the honour and prosperity 
of his Majesty in these kingdoms, when in the 
J^ear 1663, by the blessjng of God upon your in- 
comparable valour and conduct, you overthrew 
and vanquished the greatest fleet that ever the 
sea bore: then it was that you made Nep^ 
tunes trident bow, and pay homage to the Eng^ 
lish sceptre. Let the ancient Romans tell uflr of 
their great sea-fight at Actium between AuLgusfus 
and Mark Anthonys let our own histories relate the 
famous victory of your glorious progeni^cj^r. King 
Edward III. at Scluse ; let the modern histories of 
Europe declare that celebrated victory of Don 
^ohn of Austria^ at the battle of Lefanto : those 

I must 


must all strike sail, ^nd veil our glorious txl-^ 
umph. If we search the annals of former ages, 
we can fin^d; nothing like it ; and it is more than 
probable that the times to come may not produce 
a parallel. What shall we then render to you, 
great prince, for such inimitable actions. and 
znerits ? All we can say is, that next after our 
pi^yc^s for the long life and happy reign of our 
most gracious sovereign, we ardently wish all 
increa;ae of honour, renown, and happiness to 
the glorious James, his most princely brother. . 


OLIViER Maillard, Doctor of Divinity, of 
the order of minor brothers of strict observance, 
was born in Britanny. He wrote several ser- 
mons ^nd tracts of divinity in Latin. This good 
religious was universally allowed to be one 
of the best scholars of his day, but his zeal in 
the cause of religion and virtue outstripped his 
learning. He reproved the vices of his times 
wilh uncommon boldness, without any respect 
of persons, and depicted the sinners he had in 
view with such a masterly hand, that the like- 
ness was immediately known. This conduct 
exposed him to the raillery of a number of wit- 
5 V lings. 

OXiIVEft MAttiZARVt. 141 

lihgSy and the reproaches of those that could 
attack him with no other weapons ; so that the 
purity of his life could scarce shield him from 
the poisoned arrows that were levelled at him ia 
the dark. As his portraits were drawn from real 
life, his sermons may be cornered to a pictufe- 
gallery, in which the reigning vices of that age 
are exhibited in the most faithful colours. There 
never was a preacher, perhaps, that waged a 
more successful war with hypocrites, debauchees, 
&c. with whom all the departments of the 
church and state were at that time filled. He 
wrote with the same. felicity that he spoke — ^the 
same in. the pulpit, ^ai*} the same on paper : he 
was never known to sully his tongue or his pen 
with flattery, diggui3e the Jruth; so that 
be was called/* the scourge of sinners.*' Having 
fought the good fight, he was called by his Lord 
and Master; whom he-had feithftiHy served, to 
receive the reward of his labours, on the 4th of 
January 1502. 'His' rcmainfs^ were deposited in 
a cemetery of his own m'ohastery,'atNarbbnneJ 
Hcruy Stephen has made hbiiourable mention 
of this monk in his Apology for Herodotus* He 
fads imerted some extracts from hi^ discourses m 
that woS:fe. TIjis: zealous "dlvin€, one diyi 
preaching before ' the piarliainent at Thoulousil," 
dtew so fitjisfied a portrait of a cdrrupt jcidgi?,' 
and his application to many of the members^ciif 



that body was so pointedy that ihty deliberated 
for some time whether it would not be proper to 
arrest bitn. The result of tbdr deliberatipnji was 
transmitted to the Archbisfbop, who, in ordei: to 
fOptb the resentment of those who bed felt them* 
^Ives wQUx^ided^ commanded that he ^boul4 Qot 
preach for two years. The good ma^ received thi^ 
mandate in all the spirit of humility, waited on 
the magistrates who were offended, to whom he 
stated his duty as a preacher of the divine word, 
IQ sucl) impressive language, that they threw 
themselves alternately into his lK)sonQj confessed 
their crimes, becametrue penitepts, aa4 in a 
short time after they embViCjed a jaguHiastic liie« 


THE manner of acquainting the public, 
through the medium of a JQurnal, with what 
passes in tbo republic of letters, is one of the 
most laudable attempts of the sixteenth century. 
The honour of this undertaking is due to M^ 
Dt Sails, ecclesiastic counsellor in the parlia- 
ment of Paris. His Journal was regetved with 
universal applause, and was soon fo^owed by 
^bers on the sameplau in Ttaly and Germaiigr^ 



iirir682> Mr, Meockc began ibAjf^ta^ Entdi^ 
tMaKt Lipsiftishi wluch wta ctrricd on seyovl 
yeini with iocmsing cdebrify^ Soon after^ twa 
joftitimb appeared in Itady, dne at Venice, and 
the other at Padua« Messrs. fiajie and Leckrcy 
having come to reside in the Low "^Cmtatries^ the 
fast .at Rbtteidam and the other at AttBterdam^ 
werd &uri»rised to find that in Holland, which 
ttigiit (hen be trailed the mart of le»min^ and 
^le rdildezvoaa of learned men^ in consequenee 
#£ the fteedom of the press, the nmnber of 
boofaieUecs^ ,and immense libraries, pohlic and 
privi^e; in such a country, and with sochadn 
ttetiige^ these learned OKn were not a litter 
ttirprtsed to find, that no perwn had as yol 
thought of puUbhing a UferarfjwmmL M. Ijor 
clerc immediately launched one, which he con- 
tinued down to 1727. M.JSayle was so busily 
ei^agcd in composing his Biographical Dic- 
tionary, a work of immense research, that he 
was obliged 'te^idrop Iris pemodical labours in a 
few years: IVf;c..^eauval, however^ took it up, and 
continued it under the title of The Works of the 
heamed. Mr. fiemanfs lUtM from the Hep^lic 
^ Letiifs svtt^ wiell reoeived, a$e well #s t^ 
Journal \de Trevoux^i the latter^ however, was 
•Qmidered as a partial production, in mattery fif 
fdigion and politics, and wa& conducted by:^ 
fwly of Jesuits. M. de Fontichartrain,. jLonj^ 
:/. ^ High 



High Qiandellorof France^ in 1710, engagedsoimf 
oftheaUest pens in the academy, tocbndncta 
new Journal. M. FontcneUe wrote* the philo* 
fophical part^ M. Du Pin laboured in ifivinity 
with -general approbation^ and M,.VaiHant ac^^ 
quitted himself^ witli -great irepntation^ in aati» 
quities^ &c.' M. De la Croze^ at: the:instancd4)( 
Bishop Stilfingfleet, published: a Journal inr 
English, which he dedicated to that reamed^ 
prelate. The Rev. Mr. Drbz began a literary 
journal in Dublin^ in (744* As^he' was a^maki 
of letters . ahd unwearied Irtdusbry, be kept it 
dJive^ if the expression' may be used/ 'for some 
years, which is the mwe surprising, as the Jrii^ 
in those days, in t^e words of Mr* Pinkerton^ 
wetenot much addicted toteadirigJ:' : k ^ •• -t 

• i 'v. : f > 

' "» 

J ' : PHIUP DUj^E; OF OjajEANS, 


IN the year 1768, Captain Stanhope, cruising 
#fF Genoa, or somie part of that coast, gave 
chase to a felucca, and took her. In rifling, 
ihey found a man on board who appeared like a 
gentleman : he was carried to the daptain, who 
asked him who he was; but the man appe^ml 


Philip ptxac^ oP; orljb^ns. 145 

extreipelyTejoiced, and askod :Captain StaaihojMf 
if what he had heard from the boatmen, that h$ 
was General Stanhope's brother, was true ? The 
Captain replied, that he was ; upon whicl^ tbe 
gentleman told him, he was charged with an im- 
portant commission, for his brother, and he was 
sure the .Genpral :wouid,1be well pleased if the 
Captain would convey him to the place where he 
was. To this tbc Captain told hin^, he was 
gping the wrp4;ig way for Spain. . " Yes, Sir/* 
answered he, " btft I was pfdercd to address my- 
self to the first English minister that will convey 
me to Spaiq to jour brother ; I thereforCjijopc 
you will forbid my cloak-bag. and little. tfxjnt to 
be rifled, as there are things in them of the ut* 
most consequence." To convince him, he shewed 
a bill of exchangefor above an hundred thousaiki 
livres upon Genoa, or any place where th^rc 
was trade. Captain Stanhope, though before a 
little , suspicious, not believing the bill to be. 
forged, fancied there might be some little truth 
in the story, but told the gentleman what the 
consequence would be of his leaving his station: 
but the gentleman, assuripg the Captain that he 
\yould be indemnified for it, and that he would 
pledge his life for the consequences, he consented 
to carry him to Barcelona, which he did imme- 
diately. Upon landing, he opened his powers ; 
and went to General Stanhope to treat with him 
' VOL. I. L from 

146 fnthlP DVKl, OF OR&BAK^. 

from the Duke of Orleans (afterwards regent), 
ivho then comirianded the French anny in 
Spain, about bringing over that whole army to 
the English, as alt the commanding officers of 
corps were devoted to him, upon condition they 
would make him King of Spain : he promised^ 
on his part, to grant the English free trade<^to 
give them Alicant, Cadi^, and several otlie^ sea^^ 
{)orts ; that all the treasures from thelndies, and 
all other merchandises, should be brought to 
Spain in English bottoms, and convoyed by 
English men of war. He Airther desired Gene^ 
rid Stanhope would meet somebody he would 
Stad^ in the mountains of Catalonia:, at the time 
he would appoint. 

". The General wa^ a good deal surprised at the 
stfangeness of these propositions ; but being con* 
Vinced it was not a forgery, sent a trumpet to 
itie Spanish camp, under pretence of getting back 
one Desboroogh (now Lieut. General), who was 
at that time prisoner, and by that. means ap- 
pointed the tiiye and place of meeting* The 
Duke of Orleans wrote with his own hand to 
General Stanhope, by Mr. Desborough, telling 
him, that he hoped the present of snuff which 
he had sent him by such a one (naming the gen^ 
tlemati taken at sea)- was agreeable to him; de-^ 
9u*ed, if he liked it^ he would let him know, that 
he might ptoctttc more of d^ie same; and the fe$t 


"^ J^HtUP DUK£ Of ORLKAHii. 14^ 

cf the letter in such tehns. Howeret^ the time 
and place of rendei^duis bising appointed^ tber 
General, under pretence of reconnoitring, with 
an escort of an hundred horsc^ went to the place 
appointed^^ and in the night had a Tcry long con- 
ference with the person appdnttxl by the Duke % 
after which he returned back. 

This (thotigh not with the knowledge, it may 
be imagined, of the Duke) was iiiiparted to the 
Emperor, then King df Spain ; and Brigadiec 
Wade (now Marshal) was pitched on by Ge- 
neral Stanhopci and the Duke, to be the persott 
to convey the^ propositions to England. He 
set out accordingly with the letter in cipher, 
which contained these proposals, and he had, 
beside, an ordct in his pocket, signed by the 
Duke of Orleans himself, to the governors of (hf 
seaport towns, in case he should h6 taken at 
s^a, to let him have means of going through th6 
heart of France to Calais, in order to ^ to' 
England, upOn his own private afiairs, which 
were very urgent, as the passport expressed. 

The Brigadier in fourteen days got to London, 
and went to Lord Oodolphin's levee, who, little 
suspecting what he was charged with^ talked to 
him about indiffereiit- things. As soon as tht 
levee was over, the Brigadier desited a private 
conference with Lord Godolphin, in which he dis- 
closed to him the af&ir by word of mouth, giving 
h 2 him 


him at.the sanae time the leUen The straxigepess^ 
of the propp3ition amazed. Ix)rdGodolphia ; but 
the letter being .written myi.hak cipher, jLobk sot 
mueh tiflfie^ i/i J>icking out,. that he debired the 
Brigadier; would to Lord. Sunderland, 
which he ^di4> ^P^i^h^y thexp made out the cipher. 

This project was afterwards laid b^pre the 
Queen, and Qne:Or two of. the. Cabinet Cpurijeil, 
one of ^hix:]^{^s.Jjord Som£;rB|. .The Qu^qn i,n 
answer to it 9^id, she ^^quld not break her. most 
solemn engagements with her .old ally th^ Em- 
peror : b]ut jj^q proposed^a erect ;^ Jcingjion^ foi; 
hi^ out of'.Languedoc and Nayarre> jauid tpgiye. 
him Sardinra, .or: one .of the inlands in the:Medi- 
tarranean,t to make him n\aritime. But before 
tiie. courif r^Qould get back to..Sp^4ij with this an-* 
swer, the ,D.ukc,, upon some suspicion conceived 
of him at the court of France, ^was recalled put 
of^Sp^in, and pbliged to falj ^t old Louis's feet, 
\^ho, Uiough I)e.h^d somq intimation of this, af*- 
^ij;j iv^^yerjgQt to^ tlie bottom- of ^ it. .Th?,gen- 
llemaa vyho ipet-C^enjCxal Stanhope in the.moun- 
tiuijp ,\v»s clapt up in prispp, and when pur 
army l)ad reached /Madrid,, h^ us ^et at 
Uberly, ,..,;, .,;,;. :>i • • 
This anecdote was told me in I all its circum- 
stances by Marshal Wade^ at Chateau d'Ar- 

^ strum, in. , the Plaint of Lisle, Aug. 12, 

' viy44. \>. .JOSBPH YORKE. 

. . ^ SIR 


' fem THOMAS. MORE.'. ' 

SIR JoHh Dahvers*s hoiise at CHelsea stands 
in tiie very place' where 'was t'hat of tne 'Lord 
Ghancellor Sir Thomas More, who had biit one 
•maAle chimney-piece, and that pia,in. . ^^ 

Where the gate tlien stoo<J..thei::e was in Si<: 
Tlipmas^ Morc's time a*gatchouse,* according to 
tjie oia fashion. From the top of tms gatehouse' 
was a most pleasant and delightful prbspedt as is 
to' be seep. His Lordship was wont to repreatc 
himself in this place to apricate * Hnd coiitem- 
plate, and his Uttie doir With him. "If sd'iiap*- 
pened, that a Tom o'Bedlam got u^lhe stairs 
when his Lordahlpj^aiSJthere^ and came to him 
and cried, '^ Leap Tom, leap !*' offering his Lord- 
ship violence to hayc thrown him over the bat- 
tlements. His Lordship was a liitle old man, 
and, in-bis ;gpwn, notable to TOakc.rcsi&Un.Gii?* 
but having presentness of wit^ said, " Let us 
first throw this little dbg over.*' The Tom 
o'Bedlam threw; the d(?g. down : "^ Prff{Jf. ^Vi}!'' 
said the Lord Chancellor : /** godowftatidsinng 
him up again J and try again^^ Whilst tfee^tnwi- 
man wont down for the* d6g, his Lordship-made 
fast the ^door- of <hc staifsjr and called' fot'help : 
otherwise he bad lost hi^'life.' • > ■ . 

L 3 iVc//f 

150 F1LIOR. 

Note of Mr. Aubreys on Tom o'Bbdlams. 

Till the breaking out of the civil wars, Tom 
o'Bcdlams did travel about the country. They 
were poor distracted men, that had been put 
into Bedlam, where^ recovering some soberness, 
they were licentjiated to go a- begging : u e. they 
bad on their left s^rm an armilla of tin, printed in 
some works about four inches lpng« They coqld 
not get it ofl^ They wore about their necks a 
great horn of ^n ox, in a string or ^)^wdry, 
which, when they came to a house^ they did 
wind, and tbc^ did put the drink given them 
into this born, wheretp th^y had. a stopple*^ Since, 
the wars \Ao not remcQiber to have seen any 
oneof th^qp,. 

-Li :f ■ ... 

P R I O R, 

i/fr. Henry VtHiers at the Election at Westminster^ 

DAN Prior, ut cecinit Joarni^ alque Joanna 

Ingenio xnodico simplicitate pari, 
H^ioL aponsa, viio felix, uxore maritus, 

CToeoat uterque simul,, donpi^ ^tQl[qllie siqnul^i 
Non specioaa nimis, noa est nimis, arcta supellex. 

Nee loeuples, nee egens ille v^l i)U f^iti 



MoIIia securae p^ragebant otia vitie, 

Seu res succedat publica sive cadat. 
Par nimium felix 1 tranquilly gaudia vitm 

Noal^lbuit Cssar talia^ nullut habei. 




WELL^ it 's in vain to moralize. 
There 's nothing new beneath the skies ; 
I bought you from a hoarse-lunjc'd Jew— 
The name was all-— as good as new. 
You only cost a one-pound note ; 
For months you were a favourite coat; 
In truth you are a favourite stillj 
My poverty 9 and not my wi//— 
The baker has sent in his bill. 
When I reflect on al) I owf you. 
For thousands I should not bestpw you j 
On your accpunt I oft wa& bow'd to. 
By beaux and bellgg, and by the proud tog : 
And I was vain enough tp think. 
Because I sometimes wasted ink, 
And^ what was more, my precious time. 
In spinning out some flimsy rhime. 
That I was rank'd with Peter Pindar, 
(Whose fire's rcduc*d now to a cinder,} 
When I could soon have tra^'d the matter 

$ack to the tailor or the hatter; 

i. 4 For, 

^ * 


. 1 


For, if the hatt«rn3cmntsa.block> ' .1 

He fills it with the. sense of Locke ; 
A curat^ with a rusty boaverj '. . ■ 
Should have been bred a smith <xt nveave^ . 
Though he should like an angel preach. 
And practise more than bishops teach. 
Then, dearest" coat, It'gneves my heart. 
To think that you and I should part ; 
For we have liv'd whole ye^rs together. 
And buffetted all sorts of weather; 
How oft 'have yod imbib'd the rays 
Of summer suns in noontide blaze ! 
How oft, when clouds dissolved in rain. 
Remote from shelter on the plain, . . 
, You claspM me closely round the waist, 
As close as pie-crust clasps the paste j . 
And not content in suii or wet 
To pay What you corigeiv*d p debt,- 
Ybu followM me to bed at nig|;it ; 
Apd if the quilt ch^^ric'd to he light. 
You spread your arms in friendly aid ; 
Nor did you tHinfc the debt was paid. 
Unless you hung around my chair. 
To guard me from the chilling air. 
Oft as I read, or lonely sat, ^ 
Ift conversation with the cat; 
And still, 9s this wiefe'not enough, #..— 

I can't forget the pliant cuff. 
That to my finger ends wpuld run. 
Instead of" gloves, for I 'have none. 
Then, dearest coat, where shall I (ind 
A substitute so good ailcj liind'? . . 

"'• • "''''' kali 


Shall I exchange ihy sftble hue, '•'-.» ^ •! \ 
For dirty red, or spottc^d- blue? " ' ^ 

Alas! such colours qillckly fade! •.'■'• /. 
They fly before the'tail6r*8 paid j - ' " ;. ' ;^ 
And oft the wearer tal^es the hjtit, •« 
And flies along^ too, ^ith the tint.; • / 
What colour may with thine compare? 
In ev'ry charm, .you Jaoast a share.; 
In ev'ry age the sable brow 
Has claim'd the lover's earliest vow. 
In love it still maintains Its power ; 
In short, 't is beauty's richest dowex ;, . • • % 
Whilst those that make the least preteocfe 
, To gravity or common sense. 
The murky garb all, all assume 5 
It spreads a reverential gloom. 
Religious bopks are bound in black, ' ' 1 

But never letter'd on the back 5 ' ; ? 

For that would be a crying: sin>*- •[ ■:,' ; . : " 
To lake the silly bityer in. : - . ,- . 

Thus, often struck witli outside graces, ... 
; With dimpled smiles and painted fac^s^ 
We take a vixen in disguise. 
Because we trusted to our eyes. 
A widow at a midnight ball. 
In fiable stole and musliti shawl,' 
Like shovv upon a raven's wing, ; *■ ^ ■ ''■''• 
Outrivals all the sparkling ring 5 * . : » 

Tlven, Buonaparte* y how could you . 

Eaise such objections to this hue, ^, 

* »Bupnapartc, in February 1803, prohibited, undera severe 
pcnaliy, the interna^rri^ge oHlacks and "Jikites. . 

.... " As 

1^4 jaHif tYwr* 

As to (I^ree that ilt^ekmi tJ^hi4€ 
In wedlock bands should not upit^7 
As well^ vain iti^n^ ycHI inigbt 4ecret> 
That Britons should not tu)e |be sea^ 
As to suppose that niitiire'9 ruJei 
Should yield to jou and ail your fools 1 


ON the lith of August 1762, tiic Havannah 
surrendered to the-British arms under the com-< 
mand of General Lord Aipherst, Admiral Sir 
George Pocock, and Commodore Keppel. The 
Neptuno of 70 gun39 Asia 64^ Eurppa 64, Spa- 
nish line of battle ships^ were sunk at the en- 
trance of the harbour. The Tiger of 70 guns, 
Reyna 70, Soverano 70, Infanta 70, Aquilon 
70, America 60, Vinganaza 24, Thetis 24, and 
Marte of 18 guns, surrendered to the British 
commander in the harbour of the Havaqpah, 
besides two ships of war thaft were pn the stocks, 
with a considerable number of merchantmen. 
John Lynn, a journeynian baker, wrote the fol- 
lowing epigram on that brilliant victory : 

SpaiNi jealous and prond^ sorely vex'd to be tol4. 
Her Havannah was lost, her ships, castles, and gold, 
Gharg'd her governor home> for mrrend'ring the place, 
60 much to bis own and his country's disgrace. / 

A placci' 


A pUce, said the court, so strong in each part. 

Defended by nat^ce, aqd luded by art ; 

So ifnpri^nable thought, that we cannot conceive 

How you could yield it up— -what excuse can you give ? 

To which he replied, with a confident air. 

Sirs, my plea is, that Keppel and Poeock were there* 


JEREMIAH Twomey was executed at CaU 
lows Green,nearCork,on£asterSunday, the i8th 
of April 17^7, for a burglary in the dwellipg- 
hou^ of Johanna Norton, at Crosses Green^ 
near the said city. The robbers treated her hulk 
band in so shocking a manner, that he died in the 
course of 4 few days after. Twomey was com* 
victed of the robbery only ; and as some circvm* 
Sjtances appeared in his favoqr on bis trials the 
inob entertained an opinion th^t he was innor 
cent; in consequence of which,* they brought 
^im from the place of es^ecution in bis coHin, 
to the door of the prosecutrix, where they bled 
him, took the rope off bis n^ck, threw it in at 
the window, after which they broke all the win<r 
dows with stpnes, &c. Mrs. Norton resolutely 
defended the house, threw the rope into 9 river 
(hat ran by it, and fired several ^hots among the 


156 ^CA^DfeK. 

mob; many persons Were hurt, but h(Jne mo/z 
tally wounded. A party of soldiers at length" 
came to her assistance/ and took one of the ringr 
leaders into custpdy, who was afterwards whipt 
through the town as a part of his punishment* 



Tie three following Articles are copied from a MS.^ 
in the British Museum, entitled, Alphabetical 

•List of Ifives, by Edward Earl qF Oxford* 

. 7*' ■>. .-1 

' ahd Mortimer. 

■J - ■ ....,■ .-1 

^THERE is an accbuhf of 'Mr. ta[mden*s 
life put before Edmond Gibson's edition of the 
Britannia9.i695, in* folioy in English', dedicated 
16 my Lord Somers'. The same life of Mir. 
Ckmden, with a fe^ alterations, is added to thd 
nfew edition of the 'Britannia, published 1722,* 
ty the same Edmohcl Gibson, now' bpcomc 
Kishop of Lincoln'/ "I will only take 'notice of 
the great pdrtialitv of 'this worthy author.* tii 
tire pfetace to the first edition, he mentions Dr. 
Clhatlet,/ Master of" University College, with 
great respect, as he had many obligiatibns to him,* 
and being then at the i^arae university, fellow of 



Queen's College* But this in the second edition 
is also left ocit.' * Cribson wanted hot Chailibt ; he 
was Bishop wof Lincoln^ in the high road to pre- 
ferment, as he is now Bishop of London, where 
he hopes not to stop. 

Poor honest Chatlet died Master of tTniver- 
sity, in preferment, for helcept to the honest 
principles he set but in the VM>rld.with ; and Gib- 
fiOTiy for being a turncoat r^cal^.is now Bishop of 


' I was told by Lord Carteret, that when he was 
Lord lieutehatat of Ireland, , 1 7x4, a trucj de- 
scendant of this Ednuind Spenser^ who bore his* 
Bame, had a trial before Baibn Hale, and he 
knew so little of the Engliish language;, that he 
was forced to have an interpreten: 


See Passages of liis Life, itoid to be written bjr 
his direction on his deathrbed, by GiU>ert.Burnei^^ 
This, I have some reason to believe?, is a lie of 
that Scotch rascal. :;.... h 


( tst ) 


Jlpril lothy i6do. ^e Copy of Mr. Dorrmg^ 
ions Letter^ lep upon ihe Leads ^ when he cast 
down himself from ihe Top of St. Septdchre*i 
Church J in London. 

Ott ihe Bitek of ihe Leiier^ 
OH> kt me lite^ aftd I will call upon thy. 

Wiilm ihe Letier. 
- Let no other man be troubled for that which 
is my own fact. John Bunckley and his fellows^ 
hjr peijary^ add other bad ibeansy hate brought 
me to this end r-^Ood for^ye it them, and I 
doe ; and^ O Lord, forgiie mfc this cruel fact 
upon my own body, which I utterlye detest, and 
most humbly pray him to cast it behind htm^ 
and that of his most exceeding and infinite mercy 
he will forgive it me, with all my other sins. But 
surelye, after they had thus slandered me everye 
daye that I lived, was to me a hundred deathes, 
which caused me rather to choose to dye with in* 
famye, than to live in infamye and torment. 

0, iutfiina Deit^, qiM coelts ct sulpeHu presides, meb 
xfiedere iniseirifr, tit gj^retis inferis, Ueter superls, reh 
dona veniam. 

* See-Hearoc's prefece to Camden's Elizabeth, Archbbbop 
V«btr*» Liciters, p. 147, wad Bacon's Worlu, vol. ir. p. 400. 


OLiVEtt CROMWElL. t^^ 

Traiting in bi^ only passion and merits of 
Jesus Christ, and confessing my exceeding great 
synnes^ I say, <* Master, havi mercye upon me !*' 


Qtrious Dedication of a Funeral Sermon io Richard 
Cromwell^ M the Death of his Father. 


HEIRENI Hybernici; or, Ireland sympa- 
ihizing vdth Bilgland and Scotland, in a sad La* 
mentation for the Loss of her Josiab: represented 
in a Sermon, preached at Christ Church, in Dub- 
lin, before his Ex:cellency the Lord Deputy, with 
divers of the Nobility, Gentry, and Commonality, 
there assembled to celebrate a funeral Solemnity 
upon the Death of the late Lord Protector. By 
i)r. Harrison, chief Chaplain to his said Excel- 
lency. » 

And all Judah and Jerusalem mourned for 
liim. a Chron. xxv. 24. — ^This is a lamentation, 
and shall be for a lamentation. Ezek. xix. 14. 
4 Reg. xiii. 14.— Pater ml, pater mi, curfus Is- 
rael, et auriga ejps. 4 Reg. ii. 1 2. 

Gcer. Sdmn. Sclp. Omnibus qui patriam con- 
tervarint, adjuvcrint, auxerint, certus est in 

I coelo 


coeI^ac.^fjnitQs Ipcu^^, ubi t>eati asvo sejnpiterno 
fruentur.. ... . , , . . ;^^y 

• Seijec. Nuqquam Stygias fcrtur ad umbras 
inclita virifus. 

London: Printed by E. Cotes; and are to be 
sold by John North, bookseller, in Castle Street^ 
at Dublin, in Ireland, 1659.. 


To the n^ost illustrious Richard,, Lord Pro- 
tector of England, Scotland, and Ireland, and 
the dominions thereunto belonging. 

May it .please your Highness, it was a, saving 
of David, Psalm cxiu 6, The righteous sha.ll be 
bad in everlasting remembr?ipce ; and, of Sola- 
man, Prov. x. 7. The menjprial^o.f the just shall 
be blessed. Divine Providence ipade it my lot 
io hear this sermon pathetically delivered by that, 
pious divine, Dr. Harrison, in a full, fluent man- 
ner, extracting tears from the eyes, and' sighs 
from the hearts, of the hearers. I move4 thie. 
Doctor for the printing thereof, being so precious 
a piece, touching jso unparalleled .a ,person, that 
it was more fit to be made public, than perish in^ 
oblivion ; who, in a modest manner, termed it a 
sudden, imperfect, and unpolished collection , of 
scattered thoughts and notes, which brevity. of 
time, and burthen of spirit, would not pemait bim 
more completely to compile; yet^ upon my im-. 
4 ''^" port unity. 

fiortutiity', he was pleased to coiK^^scend to vuf 
liiotioh/and delivered mb this copy, nowpridted, 
#rUteh with his own hand: The usefulness olF 
the pi^ce, replete with so muny bbservations^ to« 
gether with the desire of erectin|; all lastix^ mo- 
numents that might tend to' the eternising of the 
blessed memory of that thrige renowned patron 
and pattern of piety, your royal father (whose 
pious life is his never- perishing pyramid, every 
man's heart being his tomb, and every good 
man's tongue an epitaph), hath emboldened 'me^ 
in all humility, to present it to your Highness as 
a lively efEgies to mind you of his matchless 
virtues. And, as the learned author intended it 
pot so much for the eye or ear as for the heart; not 
for reading only, but practice principally i so may 
your Highness please to make use thereof as a 
pattern of imitation for piety and reformation in 
the nations. That your Highness may become a 
successful successor of such a peerless prede*- 
cessor, to inherit his goodness with his greatness^ 
that out of his ashes you may spring another 
Phoenix, as a honeycomb out of the strong lion; 
a royal branch of that rare root ; a strong rod to 
be a sceptre to rule : so shall your HighnessV 
holy and ever virtuous progress be k new crowa 
of comfort to the three nations, filling the peo- 
ple's heart with joyful hopes of happiness, and a 
firm well-grounded peace, that they may sit safely 
you I. M under 


under their vines and fig-trees, freed from the 
terrors and turmoils of tumultuous broils : and 
that your Highness may obtain and enjoy the 
continual protection of the omnipotent Protector, 
to. crown your Highness and the nations with, 
loving kindness dnd tender mercies^ shall be the 
constant prayer of 

Your Highness*s most humble, 

And faithfully devoted, 

Edward Matthews. 


HE resigned his chief justiceship about a 
year before his death, and betook himself to the 
most retired privacy, in order to a preparation foi: 
his departure, according to his own Paraphrase 
of Seneca's Thyestes, Act 2, 

Let him that will, ascend the tptt'ring se^t 
Of courtly grandeur, and become as great 
As are his mounting wishes; as for me, 
Xct swe^t repose aqd rest my portion be : 
Give me some mean obscure repess y a sphere 
Out of the road of business and of fbarj 
Let not my name be known ev*n to 
The grandees of the times^ tods'd to and fro 


DR. CHARtTOy. 163^ 

By censures and applause ; but let my age 
Slide gently by, not overthwart the stage . 
Of public action, unheard, unseen, 
And unconcern'd as if I ne'er had been ; 
And thus while I shall pass my silent days 
In shady privacy, free from the frays 
And bustles of the mad world, then shall I 
A good old innocent plebeian die. 
Death is a mere surprise, a very snare 
To him that makes it his life's greatest care. 
To be a public pageant known to all, 
But unacquainted with himself, doth fall. 

Ex MSS. Ralph. Thoresly, Arnu 

IN one of his books, purchased by Dr. Howe 
at liis sale, under his own portrait, were written 
the following lines on himself in his own hand« 
writing : 

Foeminas quotquot vidit^ amavit ; 

Voluit quas amavit, 

Habuit quas voluit ; 
Stupente natura ! 
Quod unus onmibus sufficeret, 

Non omnes xmi ! 

Kffl was a great lawyer, and very witly : he 
was bold to.stand up for the liberty of the sub- 
' ' " uz jcct. 

1^4 BARbH I^ALLO?. 

jcct, when few other lawyeris wotild br (latti ; yfet, 
when King VlTilliyn came in, was neglected very " 
unhandsomely, which made Mr. (Julian) John- 
son, at the end of one of his books, to ask^ and 
that in great letters, why Mr. Wallop Was not 
made a judge ? to which one repliedi " For the 
same reason that Mr. Johnson is ilot tnade a 
bishop.'* Both of thciia spoke and wrote sharply 
against the ccJirruptions bf men in power, which 
stopped the curlrent of civil ptonlotioh to the one, 
and ecclesiastical to the other. At last Lord 
Chancellor Somers took notice of Mr. Wal- 
lop, and put hiin into Barbii Tfetlbck's place, but 
not before he needed it : he did not enjoy it 
loxf^f having died lately. 

When King James put out his declaration for 
liberty of conscience, " This," said Mr. Wallop, 
^^ is but scaffolding ; they intend to huiJd a hoUsn 
(popery); and, when their house is built, they 'U 
take down their scaffolds. '* 

When the bishops put forth thieir declar 
ration for the liberty of the subject, ^^ What,** 
said he, " now arbitrary government is broke 
put, do they hope thus to prevent it ? This is, 
as when they had knocked out the barrel, head, 
they should thinlt tp stop all in with theii: 

Pr. Sampson si MSS. 


( »65 ) 









La Bimqup 

la B9nq^? 
































Argeijt fort 

Argent fort 


Coinptp ouvprt 

Campte puypii 





Billon Ideal 

Billon Ideal 





Nihil, a qui la 

lissiince d^eflgpn^s fut os^f 1 


PRINCE Gharks (afterwards Cbarle« }I.)> 

when he wa; y9^n^ a^oke one night in a very 

f ' M3 great 

l66 THE tADlfeS. 

great disorder and frightful passion out of h\§ 
sleep. dv.Jivtppai who was his tutot, and lay 
in the chamber with him^ got up to quiet him, 
asking what the matter was? He said, his 
grandfather had apjieared to him. After a consi- 
derable time he was got to sleep again ; but not 
lodg after, he cried more fearfully than before, and 
told the Doctor, and others that came about him, 
•' My grandfather appeared a second time to me, 
snJ told me he had left my father three kingdoms j hut 
my father would leave me none \* which proved 
true enough in twelve years, and might have been 
longetj but as a great prince* said of the Eng* 
lish, th4t he had hitherto been a gfeat admirer of 
them and their prudence, " But,** said he, *^ I 
am of another mind now, since they have cut off 
their king's head, and then afterwards send for 
his son to revenge it on themselves.*' 

Ftom Dr. Lightfoot^s MSS. to tohom it 
was communicated hy Dr. Duppa. 


THE critics of the fair sex tell us they arc 
vain, frivolous, ignorant, coquettish, capricious, 
and what not. Unjust that we are, it is the fable 

* Duke df Biaadenburglu— See Clefy's Memoki« 


tun LAdlfiS. 167 

of the lion and the man ; but since the ladies 
have become authors, they can take their re- 
venge, were they not too generous for such a 
passion. Though they have learnt to painty 
their sketches of man are gentle and kind. 

But if the ladies were what surly misanthropes 
call them, who is to blame ? — Is it not we who 
spoil— who corrupt — who seduce them ? 

Is it surprising that a pretty woman should be 
vain when we daily praise to her face her charms, 
her taste, and her wit ? Can we blame her va-' 
nity when we tell her, that nothing can resist her 
attractions-^hat there is nothing so barbarous 
which she cannot soften — nothing so elevated 
that she cannot subdue ; when we tell her that 
her eyes are brighter than day, that her form is 
ffiiter than summer — more refreshing thah 
spring; that her lips are vermilion; that her 
skin combines the whiteness of the Uly with the 
incarnation of the rose ? 

Do we censure a fine woman as frivolous^ 
when we unceasingly tell her that no other study 
becomes her but that of varying her pleasures ; 
that she requires no talent but for the arrange- 
ment of new parties ; no ideas beyond the 
thought of the afternooni's amusement ? Can we 
blame her frivolity when we tell her, that ber 
hands were not made to touch the ];ieedle, or to 
soil th^ir whiteness in domestic employments ? 

M 4 Can 

l6S ' TUX tADlES^ 

Gan wc blame Iicr frivolity whco wc tcll h«> 
that the look of seriousness chases from her 
cheek the dimple^ in which the lovea %nd the 
graces wanton ; that reflection cloufls h^ broyv^ 
with care, and that she who thinks^ sacrifices tifip 
simile that makes beauty charm, and the gaiety 
that renders wit attractive ? 

How can a pretty woman faij \s> be ignorant^ 
when the first lesson she is taught is, that beauty 
supersedes and dispenses with every other qua- 
lity, that all she needs to know is, that she is 
pretty ; that to be intelligent, is to be pedantic^ 
and that to^ be more learned than one*8 nieigh- 
bour is to incur the reproach of absurdity and 
afiectation ? 

Shall weblan>e her for being a coquette, whea 
the indiscriminate flattery of every man teaches 
her, that the homage of one is as good as that qi 
another ? It is the same darts, the san^e flame^,. 
the same beaux, the same coxcombs. The maa 
of sense, wheu be attempts to compliment, re- 
commends the art of the beau, since he conde- 
scends to do with awkwardness what, a monke;y« 
can do with grace. With all she is a goddess, 
and to her all men are equally mortals. Hovv 
can she prefer when there is no nieritt pr be 
constant when there is no superiority ? 

Is s^ capridoua? Can she be otherwise i;yhe:n> 
she ^e^ that the universe must: be proud to 



^ait her commands ; that the utmost of a 
loTprs hopes is to be the humblest of het slaves ; 
ths^t to fulfil the least of her commands is the 
highest ambition of her adorers ? 

And are women so unjust aii to censure the 
44ols inade by their own hands ? h^i us be just; 
let us begin the work of reformation. When men 
^ease to flatter, women will cease to dec^lve^ 
v;hen men are wise, women will be wise to 

Xhe ladies dp not force the taste of the men; 
they only adapt themselves to it; they nuif 
cc^upt, corrupted; they may improve, 
^9jd be im^Nrove^. 


From a MS. Collection in the Hand-writing of ^ 
late I)r. Lyon. 

THE 15th instant (April 1734) died the cele- 
brated, critic Mr. John Dennis. This gentlemah 
had certainly great merit in the commonwealth of 
learning, but was unhappy from some peculiari- 
ties that his disappointrnjcnts in the ^prld had 
seemed to make almost natural to his temper, 
at least as some were of opinion, who made 
but small allowances for his unhappy cir« 
Gumstances. His talents, in ^hort, created 


170 DUKE OF iirtLt' IK KKOtAN0. 

bim many enemies among the small wits tstvA 
minor poets^ who, in some sort, made it a 
common cause to depress d judgment of which 
they had reason to be afraid. If, however, he 
had causelessly or unjustly offenddd any one, the 
wretched circumstances through which he had 
$truggled, to a tedious, an indigent and, helpless 
xAd age, was a revenge which the most exaspe- 
rated mind could not wish to its worst enemy : 
and it will be always remembered, to the praise 
of two or three gentlemen of exalted genius as 
'^ell as humanity, that they could overloook his 
little failings, ^nd do him real benefit, for the 
sake of his greater excellencies. The political 
writings of this unhappy gentleman, together 
with several MSS. which never appeared, mani- 
fest his steady love to his country, and strict ad- 
herence to the Protestant interest. As to his 
other pieces, let better judges give them then: 
due character ; we shall only add, that we think 
he may be called the last classic wit of King 
CJiarless reign. 


WHEN King Henry IV. sent the Duke of 
Sully to England in the year 1604, to compli- 
ment King J^mies upon his coming to the crown, 



it happened that the King of England, at the 
same time* gave a passage to the Constable of 
Castille and the ambassador which the Arch- 
duke Albert had on his part joined. He had 
ordered vessels for the conveyance of all these 
ministers, and had given orders to Robert Man- 
sell, who had a command, to give a passage to 
the ambassadors of Spain and the Archduke, 
as Vice-admiral Turner had orders to pass the 
Dule of Sully. ^This last having arrived at 
Calais before the others were at Gravelineis^^ 
where they were to be landed, would oblige 
Mansell to transport him in his vessel to Dover, 
and not being able to obtain it by reason of the 
contrary orders the English had, he entered into 
the ordinary passage-boat, and put himself in the 
way of passage. As soon as he arrived in the 
open sea, he caused the flag of France to be 
hoisted; but Mansell, believing that it was 
the intention of the Duke to brave that of the 
King of England, ordered the gunner to adver- 
tise the Duke by the discharge of one of his can- 
non without ball ; and seeing that he took no 
notice thereof, with the second shot with ball 
he caused the flag to he battered. The Duke 
of Sully, on his arrival at the Court of Eng- 
land, where he had many friends, would 
make a noise, but received not the least repa«» 
tatjon, all people commending the resolution 



Mansell had shewn to maintaia the right which 
the kings of Great Britain maintained oyer tbc 
fiiur seas* 


THIS Cardinal (saith Campian, in his History 
itf England) was exceeding wise, fair spoken, 
kigh minded, fall of revenge, vicious of his body, 
lofty to his enemies, courteous to his friends, a 
ripe schoolman, allured with flattery, insatiable 
to get, and more, princely in his benefactions ; 
Imt whosoever will know the splendour of his 
chapel, the nobleness of his tables, the order of 
his daily attendance in terat time to Westminster, 
and the glory of his state and grandeur, may 
lead the same in Stow and Hollingshead, to 
vhom I refer the reader- But when he fell 
under the King's displeasure, touching the matter 
ef divorce between the king and queen, Katha- 
rine, through despair of recovering his favour, 
a d^p melancholy seized him, and he died on 
St. Afadrew's eve, at Leicester, anno 1530, ai 
H. VIII. in his passage from York to Lon- 
don, and was buried in the great church there, 
of whom Hollingshead gives this description; 
tlut he was of a great stomach, counted himself 
equal with princes, obtained a vast treasure by 
crafty suggestion, forced title pn pimony, was 
; * * not 


not pltifuVy conceited in his own opinion, vyould 
isfey in public that which was ftlse, was double 
in Spieech and meaning, would promise much 
and perform little, was an ill pastor t6 the cleigjr, 
sorely hated, and he feared the city of London. ^ 
Chauncy^s Hisiorical AntiquitieHs of Hertfonkkktu 


THE late Doctor Magennis (who was tried 
tome years since at the Old Bailey, for the mur- 
der of Mr. Hardy, and to whose character Mn 
Burke and a number of gentlemen bore t^e 
mbst honourable testimony) Was descended frost 
a very ancient family in the North of Irelaiid« 
Having occasion, when a young man, to vi^it 
th^ metropolis of that kingdom, he put up^ oil 
his W^y^ at att inn in Drogheda. The mayor df 
ihat corporation had enclosed a piece of commoii 
contiguous to the town, for his own usfe, and, iii 
order that he might himself enjoy the full be- 
nefit of it, he gave notice in the newspaper, that 
if any cattle should be found trespassing on it^ 
Ihey would be immediately impounded. The 
Doctor happened to fall in company with some 
boon companions, that winged the glass with 
pong and joke, till Morpheus Weighed down 
feis eyelids tfith ** spft oppression,'* When out 



/ young traveller was ready the next morning to 
resume his journey, he called for his horse: 
the hostler scratched his pate, and after a pause 
or two, told him, that as his horse, in all proba- 
bility, had not read the Mayor's advertisement- 
be had inadvertently, no doubt, stepped into 
the favourite inclosure, as it was certainly the 
most verdant spot in the neighbourhood ; in 
consequence of which he was seized by one of 
his Iiordship's Myrmidons, and committed for 
farther examination. Magennis immediately 
waited on the praetor, who heard all that he had 
to 6ay in favour of the prisoner ; on which he 
collected all his twelvemonth's pride, and in a few 
words told him, that the culfftit should not be 
enlarged unless be paid down half a guinea, 
which was more at the time than our youthful 
Esculapius could conveniently spare. " Well, 
then,*' said the suppliant, " if so, it must be so; 
but I shall have a few verses into the bargain.** 
On which he repeated the following lines : 

Was ever horse so well befitted ? 
His master drunk — himself Committed ! 
But courage, horse, do not despair. 
You *J1 be a horse when he's no may'r. 

Such was the power of verse even on a city 
magistrate, that he immediately ordered his Ro« 
sinante to be delivered up to him free of all 

( 175 ) 


PAUL HefFcrnan was a man of learning and 
ingenuity, notwithstanding the scurrility of 
Tom Davis, the bookseller, who did not dare, io 
the lifetime of the former, to \oo\i unchillytA 
him. The eccentricities of Paul were remark- 
able: he was always going your way. To try 
the experiment as far as it would go, a gentle- 
man of his acquaintance, after treating him with 
a good dupper at the Bedford coffeorhouse, took 
him by the hand, saying, " Good night, Paul;*^ 
^ Stay," says the other, ** I am going yomf 
way." His friend stepped onward out of hi$i 
own way, with Paul, to Limehouse; when^^ 
contriving to amuse Paul with the certain auc- 
cess of bis tragedy (the Heroine of the Cave, 
afterwards performed for Reddish's benefit with 
no success), he brought him. back to Carpenter's 
coffee-house, in Covent Garden, at three in the 
morning, where, after drinking some coffee and 
punch, a new departure was taken, with ^< Good 
morning, Paul ; I am going to the Blue Boar 
in Holborn."^^^ Well,'* says Heffernan, '' that's 
in my way ;" and, upon leaving his friend at the 
gate, he took his leave a second time, about five 
ip the morning, and afterwards walked leisurely 
I home 


home to his lodging in College Street, West- 
minster, next door to the hatter's, where he died 
about twenty yiitn ago ; H&i in want^ for he had 
a guinea and some silver in his pocket. 


raoM MR. dell's mss. 

Sir Spxrritt, 

I DOUBTE I doe nickname you ; for those 
an j&ixx kinde (they say) have no sense, but I 
\iWt of late sefen ah ecce sigfiuj that if an asse 
kitke yoit> ybn fcfele it sobne. I will recant yotl 
ffbxA being my spiritt, if ever I percey ve y^ you 
disdaine not such a feelinge. Serve God, feare 
yr kinge, and be a gobde fellowe to y« rest. Let 
Heter care appeare in you for such a rumo ; but 
let y» well knowfc,' y^ you rather despise the 
t^hting of such wronge, by tbaking kno^ne 
iheyr error, then you to be so silly a soule as to 
ibreslowe that you ought to do, or not freely de- 
}jvtrc ^hat you thinke meetest, and pass of noe 
tnSin soe much as not to regard her tmst ^ho 
jpots it in you. 

God bless you, and longe may you last, 
teifay, iS«3. Omnino, E. R. 

3 general 

( m ) 



Character of the jimerkan General Greei^e, ly 
Major William Pierce^ of Geo)^gia. ■ 

WHO can forbear t^ express their sqrrpw for 
ihai great and illustrious character, Major-gene* 
ral Greene i ' Who is there that could boast hia 
acquaintance, but must lament t|iat those great 
and amiable qualities with which he was endued, 
should sleep in dumb forgetfulness ? On whom 
should a grateful country more liberally bestow 
her praises^ thap on a man who contributed to 
her freedom and peace ? The memory of su^h a 
man ought to be treasured in. our hearts. 
Formed for the duties ,of ppblic life» ^ dis* 
charged the great trusts reposed in hiiq. .with 
fidelity and honour. Splendid as a soldier, he 
figured through the revolution. as ope of the 
most distinguished of our general^ ; his military 
achievements formed a bright track in the annuls 
Qf his cduntry, that marks his career,^ froQi the 
blockade' of Boston to the battle pf the Eutaws. 
With a mind that teemed with resources, he had 
always the means of surmountmg difficulties ; 
in every situation of danger he had the address 
to meet it to advantage ; and, when pressed by 
necessity or duty in action, he ^^ taught the 

VOL. I. N doubtful 


doubtful battle where to rage/' with an equanimity 
of mind, and a, steadiness of soul| that defied its 
terrors. The Southern Slates hailed him as their 
deliverer) and received him as the best friend of 
their oppressed country. . He vahied the rights 
of mankind, founded on rational principles; he 
kWevr theta ^eH, and respected those priyilegea^ 
that sectitcd thciir civiV happiness^ A fortunate» 
experience,' *a*rtd a well-directed intercourse with 
the world, tiadeorrected his judgment, and fitted 
him for' &tf' the purposes of society. He was 
gentle, fn^, and correct in bis manners, and was 
benevolent and friendly in his nature : objects of 
itoagnitudie engaged his attention, but he could af 
ill times ulab^nd to social purposes. In private 
life he was as much esteemed as he wa$ reispected 
in hts {>ttbiic station. When that awful stroke 
i(rzsgijfhn which numbered 'him with the dead, 
tlic sons and daughters of America wept over hi* 
bier. Ciit off, as it were,' in the bloom of \ife, 
with ftie" most pleasing prospect of d^fmestic fe- 
licity before him, his fall was every where la- 
mented«^jis loss every where regretted ! Dear 
departed G'REtN^, over thy relics fehall^ soitow. 
iitg Prtehd^ip moufht-^at thy tomtt shallli:. 
bcrty aftdVirttie\vcej)'! . ;. 


( 179 ) 


THADDEUS Riicjdy was the last of the 
Irish bards :• — ttiis Vas uttered with a sigh, and I 
now record it with a tear. He was born near 
ijakt Clean, iht fountain of the Shannon^ in 
the cduiity of !tditiStn, in 1623. 1 was told at 
flhSt, t^'at hfe C6uld scarcely read his own lan- 
^age '(Irish), not^ even speak English;. but on 
farther JHquity, I lealrtit that he had studied his 
mother fon]^e grammatically^ ^tid that towards 
thi Idttlir'etid of his life he eould reiad a little 
English,' 1)dt cduld tiof be prevailed on even to 
attempt to speak it. He was descended of a 
good family, but, to use his own e^ression^ he 
first saw the light Ithrough the chinks of a ruined 
house;, that once ilourished in peace and plenty. 

The foUpwing passage is taken from the intra* 
duotiop to one of his poems, called '^ The 
Spring and Summer of Life."* 

*' The sixteenth Lent had scarce passed over 
my head, when |he \K»t of mothers was called to 
receive the reward that is promised to the piooa. 
Deatti did not long separate those whom early 
love had united : my father soon followed, and 
they now sleep in one grave together, which is a 
great consolatfon to me, I was glad to hire my- 
self out to a' jfanner in the neighbourhood, in 

Ha whatsL 


tvhom I found an indu1g;cfnt father. In this sit OM 
ftlion the muse used to visit xue^ as it were, by 
stealthy for I was ashamed and afraid to acknow- 
ledge, that a ploughman should dare to approach 
the fountain of Aganippe ; .but it was love thalF" 
first led roc to U-** 

I could collqci little mo^pf bjisjife tfaap wh»( 
I have just transcrtbed. Bridge Brady, it seems, 
.was the object of his fruitless passion ; she was 
the daughter of a purse-proud miller, ; almost aU 
the young women could repeat a number of the 
verses that l>e poured forth in praise pf this iqex- 
QT^ble, beauty.! I have attempted the translation 
of a &w^ in wbkh I have endeavoured to preserve 
the local comparisons. 

. . Bridge f Brady. ^ 
She 's as straight as a pine on the iiiountairis of KilmaH- 

She 's as fair as the lilies on the 1>anks of the Shinnon ; 
H^r breath IS as sweet as the bIoss6diis of Drumcallkn, 
"Arid hef breast jgently swiells Iffce the waves df lake 

Allan. ' ' '* 

tier dyes are as itiild aS the dews of Dunsanyj 
* fier veins ate as pure as the bluie-bells of Slaney y ' ; 
•Her words ai^e as snKk)th as the-]^ebbles of Tetwinny, 
.Aad her hair flpwi.adown like the, streamlets of Finny. 

I Tq tnesamt.\ ^ ,, . 

1 won/t compare you to the rose, 
The mpdest tenant of the sbajej 
Noryet'toafiy jfk)Wefthat'bto\{'s: * *- '^ i- 
^'^ The fairest flowretjr qtiickly fade. I won't 


I won*t compare you to the spring, . 

Nor summer, yet in golden hue; 
Nor morning clouds, on milkwhite wing, 

Nor noontide clouds of heav'uly blue; 

Nor winter yet^ of stars untold. 

That sparkle in her snowy vest ; 
Yet, when I feel the piercing cold^ 

T is not so cold as Bridget's breast. 

Then I'll compare you to the snow. 
And cold that binds the headlong flood ; 

Yet, when the sun begins to glow— 
Oh^ may the simile hold good ! 

Fair Bridget, listen to my stram, 
Though you should eveti'slight it ; 

I know the power of verse is vain, 
Though love should e'en indite it^ 

If you should turn your ear aside. 
And flout my faithful numbers, 

Remember, vengeance waits on pride. 
And vengeance onjy s^lumhers. 

Remember, beauty will decay. 
At best a short-liv'd flower ; 

And when it fades and dies away, 
Then, Bridget, where 's your power ? 

To these I shall beg leave to add tl^e following: 
The Life a Lover leads. 

Pleasing hopes and chilling fears. 

Words embalm'd in true-love tears/ 

u 3 * Sighs 


Sighs more precious ht thaii gold. 
Neither to be bought nor sold ; 
Lips and checks of vernal hues. 
Nods, and smiles, and soft adieus ; 
Dreams as light as summer aiT> 
Valentines when linnets pair. 
Now she 's coy and now she's kind. 
Then, as fickle as the wind ; 
Talks of nunneries and beads — . 
What a life a lover leads ! 


CoNNAUQH J,. loDg fam'd for pedigrees 

Of man and beast of all degrees ; 

With many a Mac, and many an 0, 

The darling pride of high and low ; 

And if united in one race. 

Make way and give OMac that place. 

What do ye think* ye sons of earth. 

Who place no price, alas ! on birth. 

Whose souls are all absorbed in gains. 

If you should visit these dear plains, 

YouM be despis'd, and so you should. 

For I myself can boast some blood. 

Say, Connfiught, fam'dfor woods and waters. 

Can I forget thy lovely daughters ? 

As straight as any solar beam. 

As pure as any limpid stream f 

With snowy neck and qoaUblack hair. 

And breasts as soft as yielding air S . .v 



There Cupid tfheuld reside alone^ 
. There Venus should erect her throne ; 
There Mars would find a body guard. 
And ev*ry glorious deed a bard 5 
There hospitality resides. 
There plenty flbws in cdpious tides ; 
There Bacchus shews his bdnest face, . 
And there chaste Dian wingB the chase. 
Where'er I chance to roam by day, : 

In Connaugbt let me pass the night ; 
There let me modulate the lay. 

There let the^muse take her last flight. 

If Thaddeus Ruddy could not paint his 
passion in all the glow of Petrarch, it was at 
least as warm and as pure; and if Bridget was 
not so beautiful as Laura, she was at least as 
cruel: pioets, in troth, are seldom successful, 
in love; the hau^y feir seldom. yield to tbQ 
^* concord of swe^t sounds ;** and our bard may 
be added to the immber of those who have snng» 
but sung in vain ; for Bridget gave her hand to 
a young man, that found a powerful advocate in 
a large herd of s/wine, and a flock of sheep, 
I could not learn how the poet bore thisseveiti 
stroke ; it appearis, however, that he found con* 
solatibn in religiofn, the never-failing balm of a 
bleeding heart ! The battles between the Danes 
and the Irish have furnished the poets of both 
counttics with fruitful themes^ particularly the 
"*" N4 latter. 


latter. As the Song of Dcarg* is one of the 
roost popular of these ballads, especially in* the 
West of Ireland, I have attempted a literal trans- 
lation of it, but must confess that it is not an 
easy task to catch the spirit of the original, as 
it was undoubtedly composed in moments pro-> 
pttiQus to poetry, and is allowed by the best 
judges of the original to be the most happy efFu* 
sion of any that now remain of Tbaddeus Ruddy, 
whose memory will be dear to the few who have 
any taste for productions of this kind. 


•^ The religion of the North was military; 
if they could not find enemies, it. was their duty 
to make them i they travelled in quest of danger, 
and willingly took the .t:hance of empire or 
4eath«" Johisen's Jaumey io the Hebrides. 

. O, YE snowy-breasted nymphs of Enn, with 
gray-tblue glij>tenir)g eyes, lend attention to the 
aqng of Pearg! swell his weak notes with your 
accents, while ^qftly he awakes the living string ; 
v^hile yet the whisper^ of the morn sleep an the 
pillowy palely lighted waves of Gowna, and thp 
blue stream of Ijght is yet untingcd by the iq-. 
constant blushes of the East. I will sing oft he 
great man, and his exploits; the strong man, 


THtC SOKa OP 1>EA«G. ttg 

who rushed to our shore, full of glory and 
rtreogth, to contend with our chiefs; the mdn 
whose name was Dearg Mac Drucoll. Before 
lie rode to us on the bosom of the deep^ be 
spoke the word, and scaled it with a vow, that 
the great and mighty of our land should t)en(l to 
his power ; for the wind had scattered the (ame 
of our heroes aliroad, and Dcarg Mac Drucoll 
spread his sails to the breezes. From the East 
he came, from the country of Finnland, to the 
golden and peacc-inviting vales of Erin*. He 
sought our men of strength to p(ay death with 
them in every combat* He gained the white* 
toothed harbour of Bin Edur ^f* of the host, for the 
powers of sleep had fallen on the souls of Rosg« 
glan, the son of Fion, and Coal Croda, the son 
of Cribmtiny two of no slender courage, ap^ 
pointed to guard the haven of White Fro4h: 
they slept, and the strong man aiq[»roaclhed be^ 
neath a winning form, with the point of his sword 
Yoremost. He leaped from his bark, which float- 
ing softly after on the gentle swell, soon pressed 
the cloud-freaked sandy shpre. His hair flew 
loosely on the wanton gale, or fell amusive in 
yellow folds of parting white; while eyes of 
softest bhie shone itiild, diffusing smiles around 
the warrior*s ruddy brow. 

- , ^ . . *, One of the poeclcal name?, of Ir^odv 
t The hill of Ifcwth," " • 


l86 TUE Sai^G Of: ^^AJkQ. 

lie r|ingcd the shoi:ey and climbed the rising 
pride of Edur ; thcnpe he viewed ^ wide and fer- 
tile land.: Jle ww hi^ ships now .struggling with 
tbe wind, fpr it rose high, and rolled upon tlie 
dej^p With ^nger. He was troubled at the aght» 
and b^ descended heavily towards .the waves. 
Ak^nce^ stained with the blood of thousands that 
had fallen beneath his ar(n^ the hero bore; the 
hero who ranged around to^ encounter- men of 
mighty deeds. A flowing robe, sprinkled with 
st6nes of living light, hung loosely over the 
chief, with eyes of beaming blue. ^A. sword of 
*flame, whofe hilt was richly graced, filled hi^ 
warlike hand. A golden ; shield, bright as the 
burnished moon,- when she lifts, her broad orb 
from behind the sea, fell over the left shoulder 
of the prince, the son of the. high king ; and a 
l)elm<t of wondrous frame' shone high on bis 
io^ering head. , .»-^ » . / 

Dearg Mac Djrucpl I levied tribqitejQcom.aU the 
princes of the £ast| by bis ;ppvr^r ^and hit 
strength, and mighty jachi^vero€;qt8, in., battles 
and single con>bat. . 

Now, then, ..bursting frpn^ the l)ond$ of 
sle^p, the SQU of the . bright ; ^ye arose . and 
seized his spear, vvhich, gla^^cing on tke fape of 
d^y, shone dreadful to .^be apprptupj^figv ^. 
His wanton locks flowed loose, like new-poured 
gold^ and his eye appeared like the livening star 

of summer. The mellow blushes of his pasting 
lips rose beaatcoos to the Ttew, as a double 
plum ; with steps swifter than tlie hunted \Volf» 
he ran to meet the man of might, and his com* 
paniofi as swiftly followed. 

Relate to us, O son of» strength, we that arc 
the guardians of the harbouf ; we that kre the 
SOBS of kings, and appointed "by the mi^y of 
Erin to watch. over the haven of rising swells, 
relate to us thy tale. 

The man of the East, with features drest in 
firmness, then replied : ** From the souUinvU 
gorating clime of Finnland, parent of mighty ^ 
-men, I come; my name is Dearg, and the 
Finnland king my sire. With views full of 
lirdour I posted hitlier on the winds, to seek 
the highest of your land." 

*^ Why, then," said Rosgglah, his soul spread- 
ing on his front, ** if you come to view our shwes, 
our vales, our lakes, our woods, our induntains 
high, and hospitable roofs, welcome thou migh- 
tiest of the East ; but, if pride and- conquest 'dfew 
thee here, my breast is ErinVshield 2 and should 
I fail against thy arm, ahd mine knows well the 
art of death, ten thousand, greater far than I, 
mast fall, ere you ascend that hill/* 

" I coitte not hither, boastful youth,** the 
Finnland man returned, " to talk with boys ; I 
come to do the work of inen. Behold those 


l8|( TliB 50VG OF DEAHa. 

vessels on the bending flood : within their hoU 
low. trunks are lodged heroes famed for war; 
and, though an adverse gale defies their com^ 
ing on, yet in vain will Erin's sons their ris* 
ing still oppose/' 

^^ Keep back thy praises ht another hoUir/' 
feplied the rising beam of Fion; "if thou art 
power fuK prove it/' * ^ 

" Tltink not, O son of pride/' returned the 
blue-eyed chief, ** I dread thy little voice ; fa* 
tigue to me is glorious ; I live in storms and 
battles; and to conquer is my birth-right; 
therefore be wise, nor tempt thy fate ; the 
kingdom of Erin I claim: and who shall dare 
prevent tncV* 

** O Dearg, son of the high king/' said 
Rosgglan, ** there are men in this land, who 
would soon contend with thee^ and dare thee 
to the fight." 

" Find me one,** said the hero of death, 
while his soul swelled high, and terror rode 
u])on bis brow. 

" The mighty arc not here," said Coal Crod4 
of the generous breast, *• but the brave are, and 
I will oppose thy arm," 

" No," replied the son of Fion, " thou friend 
of my soul, thou shalt not go; that task be 
mine; thou art of no slender fam^, but mj[ 
sword longs to meet this man of blood/* 

'^O! let 


•^O! let mc m*et him;' said Coal; '* fhy 
dme is oh every wind, but mine is yotlng; 
let me go and* mix my ntme with the ehab^ 
pions of our land." ' 

*' 60 then/' said Ro0gg4airy *' and I will re^ 
tire to yonder ttick ; and may the spirit of bur 
fathers attend thy arm r ' 

** No\^/* cried the joxulting Coal, •*' prepare, 
tbod mighty hero; thou that liast crossed the 
sea to try bur strength ;'' ^ndrapproachibd 'thd 
well-formed Desitg, who satd^^'Came. on ; maay 
have sought' death beneath this* $pearr; approadi*: 
and be added to the'number." . ! 

Coal rushed, upon the foe, who stood, fian 
as the. rocks of the North, when storms sw^U to 
the heavens ! bright flew their steel in airi.and 
gleamed dreadful to the. eye ! and now the 
sounding IdIqws. fell heavy on the shield of 
Deargr.Coal poised bis, but of ^a leas ample 
round. The Finnland chief, with backward 
steps retiring, gained a swelling bank; thp son 
df Criororin followed, but the man of the rough 
£ast towered; above himj and> with a ponderous 
stroke, out his bright shield across, that shewed 
like the moon when nearly one half is lost in 
Ihe gloomi of night, and the blopd i^Qvyed from 
the arm of Coal ; who, with a tnighty leap, 
sprung up, and his descending sword would have 
aent the soul of Dearg to the hills of his^couotryt 
1 had 

bad he not thrown hjft he»d,jifi<^^, jbpthe rc- 
cei?8d the blow slaqSingrQn hia broad shoulder, 
a«i{:the Tcol stream gmbediast wounds 

The enraged Dearg now flurig hia.ahield and 
sword: behind) themoeijBedt the beamy ^spoar in 
both ibis faandsi ^ad drove .withluty/ atr the 
breast of Coal, pierced it thim^l»flnd he fellj 
m^r the stag of I^tna ; btoeath the hUtalerV dart, 
wbili^ Rosgglan! rtai fnMB:\vhereMhq<y%wed tl^ 
firfal atrife^'tatsa^athis friend :;0}if be came toa 
h^l for the getierobsisoul o( (SMlws^s fled to 
sifcngieiwith the shades! of other iwdrldsk 

" Touch not my pi^^'^ said the Moodrcoiered 
kadery " but submit J share:hip •fate*'' 

:*f:ni share it," saidtheT son of Fion,r/* or 
tonquer thee :** snd- with impetuous arm he 
btilched a dart at tDrucoll's to^east^ l^ut his 
shield sent it lifeless to the earth. Then from 
the> high-raised hand of Dearg another flewV 
'iirhich struck the >?vell-formed shield of Rosg^ 
glan, and quivered there. Now blazed their 
swords on high, and their bucklers rang with 
many a mighty stroke ; and the play of dea(& 
was hurried on with dreadful skill : at lengthy 
the chiefe began to pause, and fiercely gared* 
Wheft anon, the Eaft man wheeled, swift as 
a cloud driven by the blast of night, and 
sei^d a massy crag ; then turning rounds 
with nnewy arm he hurled it' at: the foe. The 



lifted shield oppbsed in vaioi for crash it came, 
with powerful force, agairist his breast/ and 
down the warrior fell. Stretched was the manly 
form of Rosgglan, and his eyes rolled in the 
wilds of darkness. The sword of Dearg was 
then hid in the left side of -Raigne, and his heart 
beat no more. 

Ni]ght came on now, with hasiy strides, from 
the East, and spread her broad wings on the 
hills, and the stars of autumn appeared red 
through the flying clouds. iThc treeS bent their 
browti heads in the forest, aiid the hu^e waves 
sung loud on the shore. Many voices were^now 
heard from afar, and thickened in the ear of 
Drucolt ; for the combat had been heard by a 
lone hunter on the hill, and he spread thq fame 
of it around; and the people began to gather; 
but no chief was with them. 

With sullen steps the prince moved to his 
bark, and carried with him the arms of the slain. 
Four men, that waited there, received him, and 
took their small skiff round a rock, and hid her 
from the wind ; and he rested there until morn- 
ing; but his heart beat anxious for his heroes on 
the tide. 

Loud were the calls around for Rosgglan and 
Coal, and loud were the echoes that returned 
their names ; but grief seized a hundred hearts, 
when their bloody form^ were found on the wild 

shore ! 


shore ! Soon was the fire raised^ and the flame- 
blazed high. The fallen pride of Edur was laid, 
on a mossy bed, and the circle of grief waa 
formed : two bards were there, Macalla of the 
gentle striiig^.and Sianblatb of the swelling note ; 
their harps were brought ; ten virgins joined in 
the dirge, and the niournfnl song arose. 

*^ Ye w fallen,. O yp opening blossoms of 
Erin ! • ye, that were the pride of thpusand^, arc 
no moie ! ,Ye rose^, lovely to the c^'e, and the 
land snp|ile4 aroaqd you. The chiefs of our 
country beard of vour. faipe^ and rejoiced, and 
the bards often tuned tjbeir harps to your praises! 
But now the maidens will mourn ; for ye were 
pleasant among .them., Happy for those that 
bore you, they are now in the narrow house,, 
and will not weep; but your fathers will bend 
their gray heads over your wounds, and bless 
their pale sons ; for beautiful are the wounds of 
the breast, when the hills of our birth demand 

<« What will the melting eye of the gentle 
Mela say, when she hears of thy fall, O Rosgglan I 
thou, who wert the brightness of her soil ! she 
will close it for ever in night, and meet thy spirit 
on the clouds. And what will the golden voice of 
the soft-bosomed Moina say, when slie hears 
that Coal, the beam of her heart, is fled ? .She 
will pour out her soul on the wi»dsy and join 



him in his airyhalL OfVwill they meet their 
friends on the heath, when the evening closes 
hier last^leam, and the wary hunter will be ra- 
vished with the sweet wildness of their notes*'* 
. And now the moon begins her gray journey^ 
drest in starry fading folds : no linnet tunes his 
air-born note^ nor gentle breeze on the reedy 
harp of UUa's stream, sings the refreshing song; 
but the rude mountain igusta play a loud blast 
among the clouds, and send them scowling 
through the: broad, fields of heaven. ^ 

The bodies'of tfac'slain had been taken away^ 
when Drucoll resumed bis arms, and trod 
again the shore.^ H^ beheld his Finn-men la- 
bouring hard with the contending waves : at 
length they gained the land ; a hundred war-; 
riors, dressed in steel, beamed round their chief. 
They ascend the mountain with shouts, and, led 
by their prince, with steps of strength, they bend 
their way to Tara-^Tara, boast of Erin, and 
fairest among ten thousand hills where Cor- 
mack the Powerful reigned; Cormack of the 
mighty host. 

The champions of Tara^rose, for tidings ar- 
rived of the strangers* approach. They assem* 
bled round their kingpin the great hall of their 
fathers. Strength was in their well-formed limbs, 
their looks were bold, and firmness dwelt in 
their souls. 

VOL. i# o The 

I^ THI^ /SK>Ka: t)P DEAHG. 

The kiiBig was dteseed in a floHving vestment oC 
fioe^Bilk^ richly orbametited^ wrcAight with ^idy 
a«d the crown of Erin glittered on h^ brow;; 
'^ Sit down, tny chetalfbm^'' said tht hetrt of 
Qonoaack^ ^' let your bredsts be at p^ace ^ tbot^h 
l^e great man is approaching, and though we 
bave h^vd of ;fai5 fanke^ our .country boasts 
t^ first of m^ iibr can iear enter o^r }a^nd; 
but lift ti6t a «pisar against him^ uoftil we kn^W' 
why he comes;'* ' i 

Then the valisBt ivtait duttO me^t^e soti ^ 
victory^, who approadhed^ cot^fbd with beauty 
And fitiaainessv They-led him 00 the tht-one bf 
their kipg, whonti flaie saluled with a winninjg^ 
voice; and hii ttfttn.of l^etoes werfe ranged 
zsff^^. .^^: What ih: the ciause^ O strattgef, of 
thy comi^ here ?'- said the kilagw i 

^ I came to yotif isle, O Cormauck^ son of tht 
sinewy aaan^*' said Geang, *^ to receive tribute 
from thSB great and mighty thereof^ or to try" 
• their* stf«ngth itt the field/* ^ 

>* SonofTashfle?^/' said the king, !^* y6u m«st 
fall, as many have done before ; for no moii^l 
shall receive tribute :here/' \r.,. ■' 

." Then/' said :DmcolI> ^' tl^ sw6rd <«usfc 
decide it. Let a thoosatid of yobr hfetoes 
stand forth, and we will combat with them 
all *' 

" No/' replied the generous heart of Cor- 
;> GQack> 


madti *^ our men ace. not less than tfiinc, and 
they koow the uae of steel; arm for arm only 
shall oppose thee ; and thy pride shall be laid 

^* But first;* said the king, <« let the feast be 
iq[msad in my hall; -let the shbtls go round, 
and the bards raise the song, that the stran^ 
gers may shane it with us, and have restt 
But when ihe sun walks forth ^om the east 
in the morning, let the wwk of death begin!** ^ 

Tbe lightning 'of «tcel> when tfee ^nbtriing 
rose, flamed on the oakte of Tdm,- foi^ the sun 
beamed with glory round. -The i^titehilfof the 
hill wis marked .out for the hercfcs^ - J6^ Was in 
thieir hearts^, and the cmitest began ; and dread- 
ful was the contest. The rising day'saW them 
jd5h in combat ; atid'the lowering riighf came on 
before it ended. The champions of Erin fell, 
atiA the East-tnen were spread on t?ie ground, all 
but thdr chief. His sword sent fifty Spirits to 
the clouds, and he stalked over the field in all 
the pride of war. Cottnaclc saw his heroes fall, 
and a messenger, swifter than the wind, when it 
scowers the heath of Lona, wis sent to Mac 
Comhul, of the great host. The morning brought 
him with three thousand champions, strangers to' 
fear. Helmets of gold glittered on their heads, 
and they wore shields of brightness. As the 
92 deep 


deep throws the rising beattis of the san off Hi 
smooth surface^ so did their arms give a dou-« 

The chariot of Fion now rested on its axle,' 
and he spoke unto 60I9 the first of mortal men : 
f^ O son of Moina," said be, '* thou, tvhose 
arm did never yield, on thee our hopes de- 
l^end : 'tis thou, who must conquer this man 
of death: but, if thou fallest, it mil\ be with 
gloiy, iind thy name will never. die." 

« O Fion," replied the mightiest of Erin's 
sons, ^^ thou art first in the division :<>fr spoils 
but not fpremost in danger." 
. ** ThTOB thousand o^uoc&4y(.go^, three tiaqicsi 
tcpeatp^^ shall be thy great reward/' said the 
prince of the Fions. , : .\ 

"I seek no reward,'* said the son of Moina, 
** but the fame of my land; thou hast o6fija 
tried to lessen my fathers,'* continued he, <^ but 
now you call upon their son^ and he will go; 
for Erin I go to meet this boast of the East; 
and my soul rejoices that he ' came to our 
land" , 

" Mount my chariot," said the car-borne 
Fion, " and remain here until the signal for the 
combat is given, and I will lead on the host." 

Then Mac Comhul of the multitude led on 
to where Dearg of the finished form moved with 

pride ; 


pride ; and he ranged the warriors in a wide cir- 
cle, and.Drucoll approached him with his spear^ • 
which drew after it a stream of light. 

<^ Welcome, thou noble champion, fall of 
glory and power," said Dearg, ** and welcome 
all thy host. Though my men are fallen on 
this hill, yet will my arms meet all the force 
you can bring ; it is not in £rin*s chiefs, though 
all their strength is joined in one, to conquer 
me : my veins may bleed, but in your land I can- 
not fall. My arms were wrought in the hall 
of Woden, and my sword was steeped, in Hela. 
The murky sisters have spread out the web of 
my life, and the woof of it is mighty deeds ; 
and to get tribute here is one. Then let your 
men come on, until my sword drinks their, 

^^ Great is thy strength, O foreign princp, vat 
know,** said Flop, ^^ and niany have fallen be- 
neath thy h^nd ; JlQSgglan, my son, was one# 
Doin son of Sgail ; the beauteous Con also, 
son pf the valiant Conan ; Conan himself ; and 
the undaunted Sgail too reelpd beneath thy 
stroke ; with Faolan of the beauteous floating 
veil, and numbers more. But do not think we 
dread' thy sword; nor' shall two spears rise 
against thee at once/ for generous are the sons 
of Erin; nor know we how io boast, but our 
swords can tell bloody tales.*" 

p 3 Now 


Now a loud blast gave thb signal, and a space 
opens for the approach of 60I, whose chariot 
rolled rapid in, like the bloody star of night> 
that fires the heavens with its train, and makes 
the people tremble : the son of Moina de^ 
scended like a beam of light, and his counte- 
tk^nce was dressed in flame. 

The Dearg viewed him with wonder, and his 
heart began to know fear ; but he called up his 
soul, and they met, like two adverse blasts, in 
the caverns of Ninna, when the storm sweeps 
the mountains. Soon were their spears shivered 
against their heavy shields ; and now the Dearg 
drew a sword of poison, which hung round him ; 
but it coukl not wound the strong shield of 
GoL Not so his beaming blade : it fell like a 
tempest; and soon the shield of Drucoll was cut 
& twain, and his arm bung useless. Then rose 
the soul of Moina high, and another blow cut 
the helmet of Dearg ; aiid the sword glancing 
sideways, the right temple and cheek lay upon 
his shoulder, and his huge bulk fell lifeless to 
the earth ; and thunder shook the fidd with the 
voice of joy. So falls the unwieldy ox beneath 
ihe ponderous stroke ; -so falls the lofty oak be* 
Tieath the red bolt of hearren ; so sinks the tall 
^liip beneath the frightful waves, when the spi- 
rits of the atr shake the world in thdr wrath. 

The pile rose high that m^, and the East- 

MRS. FILKilN^r^N. 199 

saap's aslie^ were gtv^n to the wind^ for pride 
hail filled his heart. A hundred bards sung tho 
praises of Mpi^^u^'a sojo, ^pd ijti^ ^XCBfipiis qlf the 
king graced h^m for eyoi?. 

MRS. PlLK^^<STQ?l, 

MRS, Pilkingt^p^ vlp93^ P9.?W t?^.W^tSi and 
frailties were, ^t c^e t\|pe C(f daxy^ tl^^U?fnate 
theme of praise ^^i ^jC^i^isj^^^t^o^^ t^l^ i)s, in 
her Memoirs, t^t s^ irom her ealicst iofaiK^ she 
had a strong disposition io letters;'^ butcher eyes 
being weak, her mother would not permit her 
to look at a book, lest it should affect them. 
Afi sh^ ^i^ nqt place so high a i^ali^^ hawei^er, 
on thq^ \i}cy^ oi^bs as her qiQtbeiqr apd as j^t 
et\m^\ only served tPi qni^ken her natural t|:^ir$t 
{^ knowledge, she availed herself of evei^ ^^ 
^rtumty th<it ^ould gratify \\ ; spi th?it, at fiv^ 
y^rs old, $h^ covild read 9p4 even ta^tf^ \hp 
bpauties of som^ of this bei^ English poets. £|he 
continuic4 ip thia laapqer to ippproye \iqt ip^ind 
by stealtb, till ^he h^c^ ^9^o"^pl^s]?^4 ^^ twplftb 
year, whfsii her b?^tlier, ^ little playful bpy, 
brought hpr a ^Ijp of p^per ppe day^i apd de- 
Bired her tp wri^e somethipg Q^ it^^ that would 

o 4 fkasi 


phase 6$m, on which she wrote the following 
lines : 

Oh, spotless paper, fair, and white ! 
On thee by force constrained to write, 
Is it not bard I should destroy 
Thy purity to please a boy ? 
Ungrateful I tbus to abuse 
The fairest servant of the Muse. 
Dear friend, to whom I oft impart 
The choicest secrets of my heart. 
Ah ! what atonement can be made 
For spotless innocence betrayed ? 
How fair, how lovely, didst thou shew. 
Like lilied banks, or falling snow : 
But now, alas I become my prey. 
Not tears can wash thy stains away : 
Yet, this small comfort I can give. 
That what destroyed shall make thee live. 

The Rev. Mr. Pilkington, the spouse and 
poetical rival of this lady, having incurred the 
displeasure bf Dr. Swift, Mrs. Pilkington was 
reiplved to exert the last feeble ray of her in- 
fluence in favour of Mr. Pilkington, and, though 
far advanced in pregnancy, she waited on the 
Dean, who received her with coolness, but 
listened with patience to the long catalogue of 
virtues, which she ascribed to her repentant 
hust^nd ; and, to sum up all his good qualities 
in one, she assured his Reverence, that Mr. P. 
was the hest'-natured man in the world. *^ If so,** 



said the Dean, looking steadfastly in her £ice» 
# go borne, and let him £ither the bastard you 
now carry/* 


WILLIAM Salden of Utrecht composed an 
excellent work, which was printed at Amsterdam 
in 1688, entitled, Guilplmi Saldeni do Librif 
variorumque eorum Usu et Abusu, Libri duOf 
cum Indicibus, in Svo. This work is divided 
into two parts: the first consists of nine chap* 
ters; turns on the lovers of books, with the 
names of some persons who have written a great 
deal, or who have rendered their names immortal 
* by their writings. The author then proceeds to 
treat of the manner in which the ancients com* 
posed j>ooks, the matter and form of the books 
themselves : he then shews that every ^ge has 
produced some learned women, and that literary 
pursuits, under proper regulations, have contri«. 
buted to the improvement and embellishment of 
the female mind. 

The second chapter is devoted to a very inte- 
resting subject ; the multitude of books, with a 
list of the most celebrated libraries, observa- 
tions on the art of printing, &c. The author 
discusses the- question, how far the immense 



Dumber of books distracts the mind. • He then 
kys down ruks to enable the read^ to judgi^ <0 
ill-written books, such as those that pre writ-^ 
ten in haste rather pro famg thaji $ro farna. As 
to the style, he says, that it ought to be modest, 
moderate, and flowing, soaietimes elevated, ac- 
cording to the subject. In the third, he lays it 
down as an invariable maxim, that order is the 
soul of all writings, and that method is the 
only mean of avoiding confusion. In the fourth 
chapter he treats of the solidity of a writer, and 
in what it consists ; in the fifth, of perspicuity ; 
in the sixth, of brevity, and of the difference 
between a plagiarist, and those who make a ju-' 
dicipus use of their reading. 

The seventh is confined to reading in general, 
the advantages of which he points out in the learn- 
ed professions. The eighth chapter treats of the 
choice of books, and the manner of reading the 
best writers to advantage: in the ninth, he takes a 
retrospect of many celebrated collections of 
books, and of different princes who have pa- 
tronized science. 

The second part is divided into five chapters ; 
first, of the indifference which many persons 
have shewn for books, and its principal causes- 
idleness and avarice. 

Secondly, the love of novelty, which insen* 
slbly supersedes all affection for works of anti- 
quity. ' Thirdly, 


Thirdly, pride, and tbo sUly vanity of the 
Idlhmed, who affect to despbe, and tarnish the 
merit of each other, the poiwn of lit^ratar^^ 

Fourthly, envy, that i^nklea io the br^Wte of 
the learned. 

Fifthly, Salden, in the last chapter, fivca a li^ 
of those writers who have fallen a ^crifice tQ 
envy and malice. * 

*i m 


A POOR fiddler is a mm and fiddly o^t of 
case, and he in wprse casq thao his fiddle ; om 
that rubs two sticks together (zk the Indiana 
strike fire), and rubs a poor living out of it, 
partly from this^ and partly from your charity, 
which is more in the hearing than giving him, 
for he sells nothing dearer than to be gone. He 
is Just so many strings above a beggar, though 
he have but two ; and yet he begs too, only not 
in the downright " For God's sake," but with a 
(shrugging *^ God bless you !" and .his face i$ 
more pined than the blind man's, ^q^ger is the 
^eatest pain he take^, c?ccept a broken head^ 
fiometime^, and the laboqring John Dory ; other? 
wise his life ia io xaht^y :^ of iwrth; and 't is 
3 some 



some mirth to see him : a good feast shall draw' 
him five miles by the nose^ and you shall tradk 
him again by the scent. His other pilgrimages 
are fairs and good houses^ where his devotion is 
great to the Christmas^ and no man loves gopd 
times better : he is in league with the tapsters for 
the worshipful of the inn, whom he torments 
next morning with his art, and has their names 
more perfect than their men. A new song is bet- 
ter to him than a new jacket, especially of 
bawdy, which he calls merry, and hates naturally 
the Puritan, as an enemy to his mirth. A coun^ 
try wedding and wholesome ale are the two main 
places he domineers in^ where he goes for a mu- 
sician, and overlooks the bagpipe : the rest of 
him is drunk and in the stocks. 


IN the time of the late civil wars, King 
Charles I. was at leisure for a little diversion. A 
motion ;Kvas made to go to the Sortes Ttrgtlianai 
that is, to take a Virgil, and either with the fin- 
ger, or sticking a pin, or the like, upon any verses^ 
at a venture, and the verses touched shall declare 
his destiny that toucheth, which sometimes makes 
sport, and at other times is significant, or not, as 
the gamesters choose to apply. The King laid his 


80RTES VIKGlLlANiE. 205 

finger upon the place towards the latter end of 
the fourth iEneid, which contains Dido's curse 
to ^neas : 

^^ At belle audacis popull vexatus et armis^ 
Finibus extorris^ complexu avulsos liiliy 
Auxilium imploret, videatque indigna Buorum 
Funera ; nee quum se sub leges pacis iniqus 
Tradiderit, r^no aut optata luce fruatur^ 
Sed cadat ante diem^ mediaque inhumatus arena !" 

This made the sport end in vexation, as much 
as it began in qoLSirioient jl the King read the fate 
which followed him in too many particulars, as 
time discovejred. He was then^ and afterwards, 
vexed with the conquerim^ arms of his subjects ; he 
would have been glad to have escaped with ba- 
mshment ; he was torn from his sort, the Prince ; 
he saw the deaths of most of his friends ; he 
would glafdly have mads peace (at the Isle of 
Wight) tipbn hard terms ; he neither enjoyed his 
crown nor life longj but was beheaded on a scaffold 
before his own door, and God knows where buried! 
Mr. Cowley was desired to translate the above 
lines into English (without, being informed that 
the King had drawn them), which he did, as 
follows: P 

By a bold people's stubborn arms oppress'd, 
Forc'd to forsake the land Avhich he possess'd 5 
Tom from his dearest son, let him in vain 
Beg help, and see his friends unjustly slain : 



Let him to ba&e ubtqual terms submit. 

In hopes to save bis crown^ yet Iosjb both h ' 

And life at once ; untimely let him die^r 

And on an open stage unburied lie V 

Lord Falkland and some others were with the 
King at the time^i 

This anecdote is taken from the first leaf of 
Bishop Wilkitis*s Virgil, where it is written in 
his own hand- wtftitig. 


BY StEllCiElt. i 

• .1 _ 

BUONAPARTE is of the middle site, a litUe 
stooping, thin, of somewhat a delicate firame, and 
nervous; his hair is of a deep d^esnuj^ falliqg 
over a large forehead; his eyes are large, darlc, 
quick, and pierciiig; aquiline nose; a raised 
chin> like that of the Apollo Belvidere; palp 
comfdexion, hollow cheeks, a voice unrostrained 
and composed; he listens attentively to those 
who speak to him, and answers briefly; his aiij 
is solemn, but open; he has not the auste- 
rity which characterizes the bead of Brutus : 
you may judge from his address that he is a tem- 
perate meditative man^ but tenacious in the point 



\yhich he bajS iojrilpw; that his pale complexioa 
reddens in a decisiy^ action ; that bis body is all 
ne^y^^ik^that of the Hon; that he fights in the 
samejyifcai^ ; tfaa^ he is indefatigable, and flies like 
lightfiii^ .to>yard8 the enemy, before whom he 
neyef JiqifKew ;^aic;;, this:;fire is concentred; he 
re^Qjr^i^s.ft for grjeafjaiid stipng explo^ons^ and it 
doe^^iK4 ii$Qpriqt pn hi$ itiotions that restlessness^ 
natar^l;to men yfl^ ^m only ar^eoit,- jiij^d who 
have not (he /ao^ty of,sflf-posse§sioiK . 


%xtriAcieAfr6m a scarce tVofk entif ted, icon LibeU 
'ib'rm, or, a tJi-itical History of Pamphlets. 

I^RbM patt^hkl^ trjAy be Ickftrt ih^ getiitis 
6f the age, the debates of the Jearncd, the follies 
6f the ignorant, the maxims of govcrrnnent, 
the bvferfeights of sStatcsmen, the mistakes of 
couttiiers, the different approaches of foreigners, 
and the Bcveral encroiachments of riviils. In 
pamphlets^ merchants may read their profit and 
loss, shopk^tepcfs their bills 6f parcels, country- 
men their seaison^ of husbandry, sailors thtlt 
longitude, soldiers their camps and enemies; 
thence schoolboys may improve their lessons, 
j^cholars their studies, ministers their sermons, 



and zealots thek divisions. Pamphlets forntsb 
beaux with their airs, coquets with their charms : 
pamphlets are as modish ornaments togentle*' 
women's toilets, as to gentlemen's pockets : 
pamphlets carry reputation of wit and learning U>' 
all that make them their companions : the poor 
find their account in stalUkeeping, and in hawk- 
ing them: the rich find in them their shortest 
way to the secrets of church and state ; in fine, 
there 's scarce any degree of people but may 
think themselves interested enough to be con- 
cerned with what is published in pamphlets, 
either as to their private instruction, curiosity, 
and reputation, or to ^e public advantage and 
credit; with all which, both ancient and mpdersi 
pamphlets are too often over-familiar and free. 
To remedy the dangerous excrescences whereof, 
the whole constitution has hitherto struggled in 
vain ; though its firame has been often threatened 
with convulsions thereby, yet both church and 
state have been thought to have been often 
cleared up by a seasonable display of the bet- ' 
ter sort of such pamphlet rays, and paper lumi* 

Whence it is no wonder, that pamphlets being 
poised up with their good and bad tendencies and 
sequels, pretend to unravel the whole creation, 
to lay open the springs of the universe, to turn 
upon the hinges of the world, to dive into the in- 

• ' PAMPHLETS. (20p 

tertst of sovereigns, to foretell the declensions and 
vicissitudes df kingdoms, to touch upon the biass 
of republics, to expose the falsity of brethren, 
the treachery of friends, the tricking of nations, 
the buying of countries, the giving new kings 
to the earth, to examine treaties executing them- 
selves, to satirize the frankness of Tories, the re- 
ecrvedness of Whigs, the restlessness of parties, 
the uneasiness of courts, and the designs of all 
parties, whidi they dare not own. In shorty 
with pamphlets the booksellers and stationers 
adorn the gaiety of shop-gazing; henceaccrues to 
grocers, apothecaries, and chandlers, retailing 
usefulness, as well as reasonable furniture and 
supplies to necessary retreats and natural occa- 
sions, in pamphlets, lawyers will meet with 
their chicanery, physicians with their cant, divines 
with their shibboleth. Pamphlets become more 
and more daily amusements to the curious, idle, 
and inquisitive ; pastime to gallants and coquets, 
ch^t; to the talkative, stories for nurses, toys for 
children, fans for misses, food to the needy, and 
practisings to newsmongers, ketchwords to in- 
formers, instructions to the ignorant, help to the 
>yise, fuel to the envious, weapons to the revenge- 
ful, poison to the unfortunate, balsam to the 
wounded, employment to the lazy, opportunity 
to enemies, condemnation to the wicked, specu- 
. VOL. X. p latioQS 


lations to the godly, trials of skill to the qus^r* 
relsomc and proud, a comfort to the afflicted, 
appeals from the injured to the public, poverty 
to their authors, gain to the lucky/ fatal to the 
unlucky, a satisfaction to the oppressed, a vent 
to melancholiness, heart-ease to censurers, fabu- 
lous piaterials to romancers and novelists ; in a 
word, pamphlets literally unite contradictions, 
and are occasional conformists in all manner of 
acceptations and capacities, as well as in vicissi* 
tudes of matter and style. 


AFTER thinking this fortnight of Whig and of Tory, 
This to me is the long and the short of the story; ' 
They are. all fools and knaves to keep up this pother. 
On both sides designing to cheat one another. 
Poor Rowley, whose niaxims^ of state are a riddle, 
Has plac'd himself just like the pin in the middle ; 
Let which comer soever be tumbled down first. 
Ten thousand to one but he comes by the worst. 
Twixt brother and bastard, those Duls;es of renown, 
He'll make a wise shift to get rid of his crown ; 
Had he half common sense (were it ne'er so uncivil), 
Ile'd have 'em long since tip'd down to the devil. 
' The first is a prince, well fashion'd, well featured, 
- No bigot to -speak of, not false,* or ilUnatur'd; 


BABYLOlt, ait 

"The other for government can^t be unfit. 
He 's «o little a fop and 8o plaguy a wit. 
Had I this soft son and this dangerous brother, 
I M hang up the one, and kick down the other ; 
I 'd make this the long and the short of the stories. 
The fools might be Whigs — none but knayes should 
be Tories. 

Ex Eftstoh in Calcem scripia Lihri 'MS. in Bih. 
Coll. Trin. Cant, de Matrimonio et Divortiof 
ded. Jacoho Regiy per Johannem Racster. 

Ex MSS. Baken 

Qui tc vidit, O Babylon, qui aliquandiu vixit 
in te, tibi qui valedixit, verc Ic de vixit, graphi- 
ceque mores. 

Josephtis Scaliger discedens scripsit. 


Spurcum cadaver pristinae venustatis ! 

Imago turpis puritatis antiquae ! 

Nee Roma Romae compos, sed tamen Roma, 

Sed Roma quae praestare non potes Romani : 

Scd quae foveris fraude, quae foves fraudeni 

Urbs prurienti quae obsoletior scorto, 

Et exoleti more pruritus scorti. 

Quas pene victa fsece prostitutarum, 

Te prostitutam vinces, et tuum facta es 

Tibi lupanar, in tuo lupanari. 

Vale pudoris urbs inanis, et rclicti 

Tui pud.oris, liominisque decoctrix ! 

.( ftia ) 


: . . ,. (Extracted from the Wynne MSSiJ 

APRIL 12th, 1660. I, Edward Broughton, 
for love, in the presence of the great Gk)d of 
heaven and earth, who knoweth the secrets of 
all hearts, and the sincerity of mine at this tyrae, 
I do, upon premeditation, and not rashly, implore 
the God of spirits to pour.dowa his vengeance 
upon me, and my posterity for ever : not in any 
ordinary manner, but in the highest nature, in 
giving jthc devil power over our souls and bodyes, 
and that we consume upon earth, rot away alive, 
* and be damned, and that my name and person 
may stinck upon earth, and molest the nostrils of 
men ; and that 1 may be a fearful spectacle to all 
perfidious men; and that I may never walk 
upon the earth but with dreadful hideous shapes 
about me, and terrified conscience ; and that I 
may linger, and not die, but, as Cain, may have a, 
mark set upon me, so that men may shup me, 
and that I may outlive all my posteritie, and 
that they may be all extinct and damnied^ and 
that the devil may have a good title to my soul 
and body, and take possession of mc hereoij 
earth, and carry me away aliv:^; arid that I may 



never appearc before God but to receive that dread-'* 
ful sentence^ *' Departe from me, ye cursed, into 
everlasting fire, to be tormented by the devil and 
his angels;" if I do not forbeare all rasbe swearing, 
and all manner of drinking, and all manner of 
debauchery whatsoever ; or if ever I am guilty 
of finding fault with any things how great a con- 
cerne soever, or small, without the knowledge^ - 
assent, consent, or advice, of Mary Wicks, my 
intended wife, and is to be Mary Broughton^ 
when this shall effect ; or, if she shall, make any 
request unto me in her lifetime, it shall be of 
force never to be violated by me, although I sur- 
viving her, concerning body and soul, life or for- 
tune, children or friends, how unreasonable so- 
ever : or if there shall happen any dilTerence be- 
twixt her and me, as there hath been betwixt nie 
and my first wife, then, if I am the cause of it, let 
these and all plagues imaginable fall on m6, and 
all the plagues God can inflict ; or if there should 
arise any quarrels, she the only cause, yett, when 
I remember hereof, or she these voWs, I most 
heartily pass by, forgive, and endeavour to pacify, 
and use all the art imaginable to please her; and 
if she could impose more, I would most will- 
ingly do it, or else ma,y all those plagues, if 
there were greater curses or imprecations, I 
heartily pray they may be all poured downd, as 
the rain falls on thirsty ground, and upon my 

? 3 posterity 


posterity for ever : and tbis I doe heartily and 
voluntarily, and with serioys consideration and 
premeditation^ having taken ^ long tiopie to coi>t 
sider this, and now most readily sign it with my 
own hanc\^ and §eal it with my own seale. 

Edward Broughton* 

N. B. This was aBroughtonof Marchwiel, in 
Penbcighshire, who married the daughter of one 
Wicks, keeper of the gate-house in Westminster^ 
where BroughtOn had been long confined during 
tne civil wars. This marry age producing no 
issue, he left his estate to his wife's brother, by 
which means the Wicks became possessed of the 
Marchwiel estate, which is now the property of the 
Brownes, the late Charles Browne, Esq/s mo- 
ther being the sister of the late Aquila^Wick;s^ 


Verges sent hy Mary Queen of Scots to Que^n 
EUzahethy accompanied with an jidi/tmant^ in 
the Form of a Hearty set in a Ring. 

NOR am I proud to be more hard in matter. 
Than fire can temper, or than iron battery 
Nor that my spotless splendor is endowde 
Wifh ^ perspicuous luster an^ I prouder ; 



Nor ot his arte that formde me thus : nor yet 

To be in shining golde so neately sett ; 

But that the figure of my ladye's harte, 

I do resemble so in every parte. 

That who could sec it in her feverett brest. 

Should not more plainly find it there exprest : 

To each like constancy is,firmely vowde. 

Each with like spotless splendor is sndowde; 

Which, like perspicuous luster nought concealing. 

Of close deceite, nor yet of double dealing 5 

Equal and all, and like in every parte^ 

Save only this, I am the harder harte. 

Hence springs my second bliss, that I shall see 

Soe fayre a queene, so bright a majestye. 

As (having left my aire) I thought it vayne ^ 

Ever to hope to see the like agayne. 

But oh, if ever my best fate would grante. 

To see your harts in chayne of adamante ; 

Noe tide as no suspect, no emulation, 

Noe envye, hate, nor age's desolation. 

Might once dissolve, then should I bee more blest 

Than other stones, and dearer than the rest j 

And more of price and estimation. 

As I am harder than all other stone. 


Earl of Essex in Denmark^ 

IN the month of May 1670, the Earl of 
Essex, ambassador extraordinary of England to 
the two crowns of the North, arriving at the 

F 4 Sound, 


Sound, neglected or despised the saluting of ttie 
castle of Crqnenburg. The General Major 
Holke, who commanded, to put him in mind of 
his devoir J caused three cannon shot with balls 
to be fired at him. The ambassador found him- 
self much offended : hut Holke let him know, 
that he, was , obliged to maintain the rights of 
sovereignty of the King his master, who under-, 
stood that one should render him upon the 
coasts, the respect which the Kiftg of Great 
Britain caused to be rendered to him upon his. 
The ambassador had no other satisfaction. I 
add hereto a particularity to be remarked, which 
is, the Earl, in making his entry into Copenha-r 
gen, was saluted by the artillery of the town^ 
but the regiment of infantry of the General did 
not salute him; and it wa^^ said, that this wa^. 
by reason of the mourning that there was for 
the death of the late King. Hq was received 
with an equipage of twenty coaches of six horses, . 
all in mourning, and with two of two horses. 
I cannot well apprehend wherefore they w^ould 
salute with cannon, and not with musket. 

Ex MSS. Sir H. Shane. 


( ai7 ) 


7a the Right Honourable the Lords Commissioners 
of His Majesty s Treasury. 

The humble Petition of Ralph Griffith^ Esq*. 
High Sheriff of the County of Flint, for 
the present Year^ 1769, concerning the Ex^ 
ecution of Edward Edwards^ for burglary^ 


THAT your petitioner was at great difficulty - 
and expense, by himself, clerks, and other mes- 
sengers and agents he employed, in journies to 
Liverpool and Shrewsbury, to hire an execu- 
tioner ; the convict being a native of Wales, it 
was almost impossible to procure any of that 
country to undertake the execution. 

Travelling, and other expenfes on that occa- 
sion, 15/. lOS. 

A man at Salop engaged to do this business. 

Gave him, in part of the agreement, 5/. ^s. 

Two men for conducting him, and for their 
search of him on his deserting from tHIm on 
the road, and charges in inquiring for another 
executioner, 4/. 10^. — 9/. 15^. 

After much trouble and expense, John Bab- 

bington, a convict in the same prison with 

Edwards, was, by means of his wife, prevailed 

4 on 


on to execute his fellow-prisoner. Gave "to the 
wife 6/. 6^. and to Babbington 6/. 6s. — 12/. 12s. 

Paid for erecting a gallows^ materials^ and 
labour^ a business very difficult to. be done in 
that country, 4/. 12s. 

For the hire of a cart to convey the body, a 
coffin, and for the burial, 2/. 10s. and for other 
arssistance, trouble, and petty expenses on the 
occasioji, at least 5/. — 12A 2s. 

Which humbly hope your Lordships will 
please to allow your petitioner, who, 


By the late Charles Smith, M. D. 

SIR Philip Percival was one of the most 
eminent subjects of his time : he had a vast 
estate both in England and Ireland ; in which 
last kingdom he had 78 knights' fees, containing 
90,ooo^acres of land. He was a Privy Coun- 
sellor to King Charles I. Register of the Court 
of Wards, and held several other employments 
in Ireland at the same time. When the Irish re- 
bellion broke out, he fortified and defended five 
of his ca§tles for several years, and suffered in, 



the destruction of bis woods^ houses^ castles, 
and loss of his rents, in six years time, 60,000/. 
The Parliament of England appointed him Com* 
missary General of the army, with an allowance ^ 
of 1200/. ^er annum ; and also made him Pt'ovi* 
dore General of the Horse, in which post he ^- 
pended 1800/. which the family were never re- 
paid. In 1643, ^^ ^^^ ordered to attend the 
treaty with the Irish at Kilkenny, and signeJ 
the cessation with them. In 1644, he was sum- 
moned by the King to attend as a Commis* 
' sioner at the treaty of Oxford ; he was there 
offered a peerage to promote the measures of the ^ 
court, which he refused, and was obliged to fly 
from the King's quarters to the Parliament; 
upon which the King confiscated his estate in 
England. Being a member of the famOuSiLong 
Parliament, he opposed the Independent faction, 
and the army, to the utmost of his power; 
and thereby drew down many inveterate accusa- 
tions from them, against which he defended, 
himself with wonderful abilities and proof of his 
innocence. But Cromwell and the army gjrow- . 
ing stronger, and attempting to make them-*' 
selves masters of the Parliament, Mr. RoUis, 
Sir Philip Stapleton, and many of the leadfng 
members, were impeached by the army, and * 
fled ; at which juncture Sir Philip Percival had 
the resolution to stay, and was chairman of 



those committees appointed by the Parliament 
to raise forces, and conduct the defence of the 
city and Parliament against the army. But th^ 
city being terrified, and the army coming up to 
London, he was obliged to fly, and conceal him- 
self in the country for some time, till new accu- 
sations were framed against him, upon which he 
resolutely returned to take his trial the week 
aften At this juncture, he was, by the province 
of Ulster, appointed a commissioner, to manage 
thehr affairs with the Parliament of England. i 
He was at the same time secretly concerned in the 
-m design to bring the English army over from Ire- 
land, who had, by an unanimous address, put 
their interests under his direction ; but the dan- 
ger be was in, ^nd the violence of his enemies, so 
afi^ectei him, that he fell ill of a fever upon his 
spirits, and died the loth of November ,1647, in 
the forty-fourth year of his age. He was so re- 
spected by his very enemies, that he was bu- 
ried at the expense of the English Parliament in 
the church of St. Martin in the Fields, London ; 
and over him was placed the following inscrip- 
tion, written by R. Maxwell, Lord Bishop of 
Killmore ; which monument, on the rebuilding 
of that church, has been within a few years en-» 
tirely destroyed. 



Epitaphium clarissimi Vlri Pbillipi PearceavelU^ 
Eqiiitis auraii Hyberniief qui obiis bonis omtoims 
desideratissimus lo®, die Novembris^ Anno Dom. 
1647. . .^ 

Tortunam expertus jacet PhiUipus utra^que, 

Dotibus ac genere Ttobilitatus eqiue$ 5 
Qui nisi (sed qtds non multis) peccasset in wn^ 
Quod viiio v^ertat pix hahet invidia *. -r- 

Which has been thus translated : 

Philip here lies, at length subdu'd by fate, 
» By birth illustrious, and by fortune great ; 
: Capricious Chance long taught him to explore 
- By turns her fickle fondness, and her power : 
Could thei remembrance of his virtues sleep. 
Envy herself at the sad loss would weep* 

John, late Earl of Egmont, was made a Privy 
Counsellor, before he was of age ; he was after- 
wards offered a peerage, which, from th^ cif- 
cumltance of the times, he refused* At the ac- 
cession of King George I. being continued ia 
the Privy Council, he was created a Baron bjr 
the style and title of Baron Percival of Burton. 
In Deocmber 1722, he was created a Viscounty 
by the style and title of Viscount Percival cf 
Kahturfc, with the fee of twenty marte to 
be annually paid out of the King's Exchequec 
Upon the accession of his present Majesty, he 

* The reader will observe this epitaph to I)e both false La- ^ 
tin and bad metre; but we give it aa we find it. 



was still continued a Privy Counsellor} add 
not long after, in the commission granted for the 
settlement of Georgia in America, he was ap-- 
pointed the first of the trustees, and president of 
the same commission, in which he conducted 
himself with great zeal and application for the 
interait of that colony. In the first Parliament 
of the same reign, he was returned member for 
Harwich in Essex ; and upon the death of the 
Earl of Oxford, was made recorder of the same 
borough. Lord Oxford had succeeded to this 
place by the impeachment and flight of the late 
Lord BoUingbroke, And having steadily per- 
severed in loyalty and duty to the crown, his 
Majesty, taking into consideration these his me- 
rits to himself, as well as his zeal to promote the 
interest of his country, both in this and the New 
World (as it is expressed in the preamble to his 
letters patent) ; and also in regard to the great- 
ness and antiquity of his extraction, he was, upon 
the 5th of August 1733, advanced to the dignity 
of an Earl, by the style and title of Eairl bf Eg- 
mont, the above-mentioned ancient seat of the 
family. John, now Earl of Egmont, his only son, 
waa»member of parliament for the borough of 
Dingle in Kerry, being chosen at the age of twen- 
ty, and was permitted to maintain his scat, not- 
withstanding that defect of qualification : which 
place has been exercised for six descents in this 



family, excepting one, which happened during 
the short time that Sir John Percival, grandfa- 
ther to the present Earl, enjoyed his estate^ 
which was the reign of late king James, whea 
there was no Parliament called in this kingdom. 
On the 3 1 St of December 1741, the present Earl, 
when Lord Viscount Percival, was elected a re- 
presentative in Parliament for the city of West- 
minster, being attended by 6000 voters of all 
denominations to the hall where the eleqitiou 
was made ; and his Lordship was unanimously 
chosen by the concurring voices of all present, 
notwithstanding a violent opposition threatened 
by the opposite party. His Lordship is now re- 
presentative for Weobley in Herefordshire, and 
gentleman of the bedchamber to his Royal High- 
ness the Prince. 

IF we were to select the pages of French and 
English history, in which the counsels and mi- 
litary exploits of the different branches of the 
Sidney family are recorded, perhaps they would 
Yorm the most interesting passages in the apnals 
of the two countries.. Sir William, the founder 
of this race in England, came over from Anjou 
with that gallant monarch, Henry II. who well 
knew how to appreciate the merit of so brave a 

man ; 

2^4 ^^^ HBNRY «II>NEir. 

man ; not was he willing that Fiance should ^ole« 
ly boast so rare a subject ; he w^s determined that 
iiis native country should at least divide the 
feonour. Sir Henry, the subject of this sketch, 
.f«ras the eldest son of Sir William Sidney, steward 
and chamberlain to Henry VIIL He was borh 
in 1549. Henry VIII. was his godfather; a 
mark of very high honour. He was knighted 
!by Edward VI. and, in the twenty-second year 
of his age, was sent aimbassador to France. 

It was soon found that he was not invested 
with this important office, merely^n account of 
his youth, nor yet the beauty of his fortn, which 
were undoubtedly powerful recommendations in 
a court at that lime the most brilliant in £u- 
Tope. The satisfactory ^manner in which he «c- 
ecuted his mission, and the dignity with which 
he maintained his rank, evinced, that his talents 
even surpassed the hopes of those that formed 
the brightest predictions of maturer years ; and 
fully jastified the choice of his sovereign on that 
occasion. On his return, he was appointed 
Vice-treasurer. In the reign of Philip and Mary, 
he was appointed Lord Justice of Ireland, an of- 
fice of great trast and dignity. Queen Elizabeth, 
duly sensible of his meritorious services, invested 
him with the Order of the Garter, and appointed 
him Lord Deputy of Ireland. This office, how- 
ever honourable and lucrative, might rather be 



called a service of ilangei:, that required a union; 
of talents, rarely found ia the greatest favourite 
of nature. Such was the distiacted st^te of Iter 
land in thpse days, that when the flaines of civil 
war seemed to be extinguished in one part, they, 
burst forth with redoubled fary in another : so 
that it even required tl^e most skilful hand to 
pour oil into the wound^ and to biod it up with 
balmy fingers. He was received by one party 
with open arms, whilst those who bad sjSfMted 
under the extortions of his predecessors, looked 
up to his justice ; and even those, who had for- 
feited all claim to that virtue, reposed on his cle« 
mency. The sword of justice, says St. Augus- 
tine, ought to be tempered in the tears of mercy ; 
and his conduct proved, that if he bad pot read 
this sentence in the good old father^ it was writ- 
ten in his heart. Severity was ooJy resorted to 
in the most desperate cases when it was abso* 
lately necessary that a limb should be lopped 
off to save the body. 

The following extract is taken from Sir James 
Ware, who, it is acknowledged, observed a due 
measure of fraise and ilame throughout his his«* 
tory, composed in the midst of expiring %ۥ 

'* Sir Henry Sidney landed at Skyrries on the 
1 2th of September 1575, from whence he went 
to Tredagh, where be was sworn on the 18th; 

toil. I. €1 the 


tlie plague then raging in Dublin. But upon 
advice, that Surleboy had, immcdiateTy after his 
landing, assitilterf Knockfcrgus, in which en- 
coiinter Captain Baker, and above forty men, 
were slain. Nevertheless the prey was rescued ; 
ind the Scots repelfed by the valour of the de J 
fendants. Sir Henry Sidney maitrhed with 606 
horse and foot, and speedily brought Surleboy ta. 
terms of agreement and submission, as also- Mad 
Mahon, 0*DonnelJ, and the chief of the Mac 
Guires ; and soon after Turlogh Lynouth him^ 
folf came and submitted^ and was permitted to 
return home. 

"This being performed, the Lord Deputy 
inarched into Leinster, where he found tht 
county of Kildare almost ruined, as was also 
the barony of Carbery, by the O'Mores, and 
the King and Queen's counties, by the 0*Con- 
nors ; but Rory Oge, the principal amongst 
them, was persuaded, by the Earl of Ormond, to 
come to Kilkenny, and submit himself to the 
Lord Deputy, which he accordingly performed. 

<^ At Kilkenay, the Lord Deputy heard of Sir 
Peter Carew*s death, which he nfnch lamented ; 
afid honoured his funeral at Waterford with his 

^ " During the Lord Deputy's stay at Waterford, 
he was nobly entertained by the major and al- 
dermeii," for which he returned them thanks, 


8IK mnrtVLY SIBNBT. %1J 

after lie had given the city a check foif their for- 
mer behaviour, ' iii insisting on their privileged, 
when the pnblic requited their asfeistancfe. 

" From Waterford he proceeded to G>tk, 
where the Esirls of Dcdmond, Thomond, and 
Glencar, with others df the nobility, and primie 
gentry of Munster, waited on hiih, and kept their 
Christmas. After which, he began his sessions 
there ; and many complaints coming before him 
of great outrages, murders> spoils, and thefts, 
committed in that province, twenty-three of the 
most notorious offenders were executed. And 
the better to prevent the mischiefs usually done 
by Tories, every nbbletnan and gentleman were 
obliged to give in the names of all their servantis 
and followers, to be registered in a book ; and 
if any of thete were found not registered, he was 
to be accounted and used as a felon, whereso* 
ever he should be taken ; and their lords and 
masters were to answer for all such as were re* 
gistered ; which, at the same time, they seemed 
cheerfully to comply with ; and in order there- 
unto, a proclamation was published all over 

" After his departure from Cork, the Lord De- 
puty marched to Limerick, where he was mag- 
nificently received ; and having kept his sessions 
there a few days, hearing the complaints of the 
poor, and ordering the idlers and vagabonds to 
b^ registered, as he bad done at Cork, he went 

dtzC SIR HBNiiT aiDfiriBir. 

toward* Thomond ; where being aririvcd,lic bs- 
BislMtd some, and executed others, for the theftst 
rape^, murders, and other outrages bjr thtm 

" He staid not long there, but, having appoint- 
ed commtsstoners to b^r and determine the rest of 
their complaints, be continued bis progrcfe to 
Gal way, v^bich, together with the adjacent cotit>- 
try, was then almost desolate, for most of the 
inhabitants had forsaken it, by reason of tfae ^ 
great ravages made by tl)e two sons of the £aft 
of CIanrickar4» t^ainst whom all the p6o^ 
' made ^ad complaints, which the Lord Deputy 
promised to redress. But the said Earl's eoiti, 
coming unexpectedly intP thfe churdi oiG^iHyf 
in time of divine servit)e, updn their koibi lAm* 
l^ly submitted themselves, and supplicated far ia 
pardon ; which^ after a short confinement, and Vl 
severe reprimand, was,, by the advice of the 
privy couodli granted them. 

" Froin Galway , tbc Lord Deputy returned to- 
wards Dublin, wliere he arrived the 13th day of 
April 1576, having kept sessions in every one 
county, and placed garrisons in-all most conve- 
nient places, thrcogh which he ibarchcd," 

Sir James conclu^des his account of this ilhis- 
trious character in these words : 

" This Sir Henry Sidney was the son of Sir 
William Sidney, godson io King Henry VIH. 
companiod &nd bed-fellow to Kiii^ Edward VI. 


Jtr HBNEY 8IDNBY. t2^ 

5Krho died fn his arms ; several times ambassa^ 
dor from Qwcea' Elizabeth, head president of 
Wales, treasurer of war in England^ knight of 
the mos^t noble order of the Garter, and had been 
four time« Lord Justice of Ireland, and thrice 
Lord Deputy ; in which placee he xndst honour- 
ably acquitted himself." 

Jo the year 155S, Geral^l, the si-^teenth Earl of 
Desmond, one of the greatest subjects in Europe, 
mised ft rebellion, that ended in the tuki of him^ 
self and; his family. His first disturbances were 
against thfi Earl x)f Omioiad, whom ha fought in 
s pitched battle oivtbe t5th of Febr<UM?y 1564^ 
vfbenQhe was t^kra piri$onen These £)arls were 
1»otfe ordered into En^and to aecoDnt for tbeu: 
coadact, wl^ere tfaey were examined before the 
privy council; bat their muttnd accusations 
were so cootradictoiy^ that po order could be 
made^and therefore they were ItfcvSd to the 
council of Ireland, who advised them to submit 
lo the Queen's determination ; in consequence of 
which her Majesty wrote the following enigma* 
tical lettei!, with her own hand, to Sir Donry 
Sddney^ on the oceasiim of tt»6 dispute, 

^^ If our partial sknder managing of the conr 
tentiokiajqiUrrel between! the two Irish Ertes did 
not make the way tQ causf these lines to passe 

CL3 »y 


my hande^ this gibberidgo d^ould hardly have 
cumbered your eyes; but warned by my former 
fault, and dreading Worse hap to come, I rede 
you t^ke good heed that the good subjects' lost 
state be so risvenged, that I hear not the rest be 
won to a right by-way to breed oiore traytot9 
stocks, and so the gole is gone. MakelsQme differ^ 
tencc betwixt tried, just, and false friends; . let 
the good service of well deservers be never re- 
warded with loss; let their thanks be such. as 
may encourage new strivcrs for the like; sufier 
not that Desmond's denying deeds ^, far wide 
£:om promised works, make you trust for other 
pledge than either himself or John^ for gage. 
He. bath so well perforocied his English vows, 
that I wiara you, trust him no longer than you 
see one of them. Prometheus let me be, and 
Prometheus has been mine too long. I pray 
God yod^'old strange sheep, late as you say, re* 
turned into fold; were not her woolly garments 
upon her woolfy hack ? You kqqw, a kingdom 
^nows np kindred, si viohndumjus regtumdi causa^ 
although no harm is perilousi in the hand' of an 
ambitious head, mixed with wit; 
there is no good an accord in government : es- 
says be oft dangerous, especially where the cup- 
vbear^r hath -received sucK * preservativie, as 
^hat met soeter betide the drinker's draught, the 
' ... * Noisy deeds, 


SIR HENRY 9I0KEY« ftjr. 

CAtrier iafccs no ibarie thereby. BfclicVc rtot» 
though they swarej that they canibe ftill sound 
whose parents 3ought the rule, that they full fain 
would have, I warrant yon that they will never 
he aocounted of bastccdy;. you. were to bUme; 
to lay it to their charge; they will ttace tjic steps ^ 
that others have passed befiDre. If I had not 
espied, though very late, legerdemain, used in 
these cases, I had never paied my part ; no, if 
I had not seen the BaTIances held awry, I had 
never inyself c6iAe into thfe weigh- hoirt^. I hdpe 
I shall have so good a customer of you^ that 'alt 
under officers shall do their duty amon^ you. If' 
ought have been ainiss at home, I will patch, 
though I cannot whole it Let us hot,' nor no 
more do- yoii, eonllilt so long, till ladtrice cotac* 
too late to the givers ; where then shall wcfe \Vi«h 
the deeds,' when all is spent in words ^ A fool too 
late bewares, when all the peril is past : if wee 
still advise, we shall never do; ihui are wee ever 
knitting a knot, never tied ; yea, and if our web 
be framed with rotten hurdles, when our loom 
is well nigh done, our work is new to beghi t 
God send the weaver true 'prentices again, and 
let them be denisons, I pray you, if they be not 
citizens, and such too as your antientest alder- 
men, you *have or now dwell in your official 
place, have had best cause to commend their 
jgopd behaviour. Let this memorial be com- 

04 mitted 

^% Silt nxvRT smKErn. 

initted to Vtilcan^s base keejpiDg, without anjr 
longer abode> than the leisure of reading thereof ; 
yea, and with no mention made thereerf' ior any 
other wight. I charge you^ as I may eoihfaiaixl 
you,^ seera not to have but secretaries* letters 
from me, 

♦* Your loving maistres, 

AS we have given an extract out of Sir Jamea 
Ware^ we shall give another out of Dr. Borlase "^i 
it is a debt to the living at4 th^ dead* fyagitses 

" 1575' Sir, Henry Sidn^, Se^^twibcr iftthbi 
returned ioto {reland» hoT^, Deputy; !v^hei^ 
(having pacified several rebellions^ ai:id that riot 
vfitk spBduch rigQur as excellent co^duct^ha'vhigi 
at several liimes, beeu eleven yeai^ Ju^ice and 
Deputy of Ireland^ $o a^ that kingdom is iuuch 
indebted to him for his wisdom and valour) he, 
September 12^, 1578, took boat at the Woo4 
key, in Dublin, for JSngland. He died at Wor- 
cester, May 5 J ^S^^9 ^^^ w^s buried amongst 
his ancestors at Penshurst; of whom Dr. JPowel, 
in his Epistle to the Reader> in his History of 
Wales, writes, that his disposition ws(s rather tq 
seek after the antiquities and the weal public of 

-~ f Set tlie Reduction oi Irehhi to the Cr^wn of Englancfv 

those countriohc^ovtvAe^l^ than t<> obtain lands 
and revenueawitlua the jsaino, for I know Bot one 
foot of land; tjt^^d: be b^d either in Wales or it^ 
land, cujiis foienham nemo sertiit, mnmtf ltv4^tume 
ferietdiaut aecessione dignitatis ^ jostly applkcftbfe 
to him, Fifl. Pater. /. toy. He eatrsed the frfafc 
statutes to * bis tinie to be printed, et sid ex limbra 
in solem eduxit. . Apd l>eside$ many ofhet nxotiu- 
ments yet surviving his equal and just govern- 
ment, we must i]iot let pds$ the greate^pense and 
care whick' b^ bestowed Uipon the ca$tk of Dub«- 
lin, at rfirst Built, aoao 1213^ by John Cocnin^ 
Archbishop of DnbHn, a learned, facetious, ^nd 
solid person^ trfterwards beautified and enlaiged 
by Sir Henry Sidney^ ihiBemory of whoin Stani* 
hurst^ that venerable histonah^ hath left these to 
posterity : 
^^ Gesta lihri referunt multurum clara virorum^ 

Laudis et in.chartjs stigmata fixa manent ; 
Verum Sidnsei.Iaudes haetc, saxa loquuntur^ 

Nee jacet in. soils gloria tanta libris. 
Si libri pereant, homines remanere valebunt. 
Si pereant homines ligna manere queant ; 
Ugna si pereant, non ergo saxa peribuht, 
Saxa si pereant tempore, tempus erit. 
Si pereat tempus, minime consomitur^nim. 

Quod cum. poocipio, sed sine finiq m^net, 
Pum libri iiorent, homines dum vivere possunt,^ 
Dum quoque cum lig^nis saxa manere yalent, 
pum remanet tempus ; du^n denique remanet asvum^ 
f^us tu^ Sidn^ei^ digaa.perire nequit." 



In books the gojdlike deeds of heroes shine. 

And sbnie new glory beams in ^v*ry line ; 

*Bot paper oow.idivides the sacred trust. 

And stones, Iong»dupib, the bands of silence buM| 

And. tower sublime in long-fam'd Sidney's praise. 

The darling iheme, and wonder of pur days* 

If e^vy shpuld efface the sacred strain, 

And books sKouId perish, men will still remain ; 

If men should yield to fate like vulgar things. 

Still \v6iyd will flourish in successive springs : 

If wood should sink at length in parent earth. 

Then stone will boast a more, substantial' birtb; 

And if the hardy rock through yeahsish6>i|4 fsJ|| 

Then Tim^ himself will triumph ov(^ all } ;^ . • 

And when bis sand is run, and all i3 past, 

Pternity \y^Jl claim the, priz^ at last. 

Thus long as books shall flourish in each clime, . 

And man succeed to man in thought sublimp; 

As long as wood shall shade the verdant plain, 

As long as rocks shalj bound tl^e swelling ipain ; 

As long as time shall wave his silent wing 5 

As long as bards shall touch the tren^bling string ; 

Through all eternity his fame shall rise. 

And spread aloft through the remotest skies. 



IF you would have your goods secur'd 

From fire or from water, 
Step in 5 all things are here insur'd, 

. ]Ejccept your wife and daughter, sir 

{ ^3S ) 


..- . ,AND .FREEMAN^ 

ITHE unhappy catastrophe of these two sons, 
Jiowever unwillingly mentioned, must not be 
passed over iii silence: the elder being murdered 
by the younger, in August 1655, the most proba- 
ble story of whith is, that the latter, then aged 
about nineteen years, being qf a sulky and un-* 
^toward disposition, became envious of his bro- 
ther, not only for his being preferred for his better 
qualities, in his father's affection, and the good 
>vill of others, but that, being his elder brother, 
jbe was an obstacle to the consummation of I)is 
wishes with a young lady, to whom at that time 
he paid his addresses. These appear to have 
been the motives (for the story of his haVing 
committed this horrid crime, on accijtint of 4 
quarrel he had with his brother some months be- 
fore, in relation to a doublet, for which he had 
been perfectly reconciled to him sortn afterwards, 
seems to have been made use of by him in his 
confession before the j usticcs, entirely as a pretence 
to conceal his real motives*fiw it, as it appears both 
by his father's and Mr. Boreman^s narratives)/ He 
committed this foul deed on his brother in an 
ppper chamber in his fathei?'s house, whilst' he 
was asleep in bed, by a deadly blow on- the head 
^ith thp back of a clcirery whiqh he hadiaken 



from the kitchen a day or two before, and had 
bid for this purpose ; whieh blow be followed by 
others with a dagger, which he carried about him 
for th^ same intent ; upon which be was put 
into, the custody of a peace officer^ a guigirdl w^ 
$et pver Jiim, and the next day he was^cpuvcyed 
to Maidstone gaol, the assizes bping tbeja boWipj 
thwe; the day aft^r which, l^cjng TJi^Ji^day, thft 
$tl^ he was brought to the bar^ haying been bc^ 
fprp examined before Sir Michael Livesey an^ 
Sif X^^°^^^^^y^^* ^^^ other justices ; 
diptment being read over, he. ple^d guilty, 
shewing a ^eat desire to sufier death for his bar- 
]b^ous action^ and appeared whilst at, the ba? 
wi^ fQ, composed a behaviour, as fij W tbe^ud|ges, 
^o^es, and the whole court, which was crowded 
»r4t^, other gentlemen of the county, with ipjUcb 
as^ni&haxent : after whid>,. being carried bac^ 
tp the gaoU he was put into the dungeon allotted 
ibr the condemned malefactors, and ne;x:t day 
CQRdemPpd to die. Judge Crooke, at the tim^ 
pf bis passing sentence, seriously adfnonishii;^ 
him to consider and repent of the foulness of 
^e deed he had comjoodtted, pressing h^oi to dei- 
dare the motives he had for it^ for the dearing of 
his conscience, and. tbQ satisfaction of the cquo^ 
try; he replied, that he. bad already* done so bci- 
^e the Justices at |)is examination ; and being 
furthef paessedi if jbe l4^ any tiup^ niupre to say. 

te tesjtfify hi« remoitee, he then, being slow tjf 
ispcech, hhd of a rfeservcd nature, made no air- 
«weir, but dcliTe^ed a petition to the onder- 
tiheriff MP. Eade, whibh wis read, and was for 
H respite a few' dajte onlyy thttt he might, by a 
more penitent remorse, and sorrow of consci- 
ence, make his peace with God, and reconcile 
himself to his deservedly and highly offended 
father. To this petition the judge condescended 
so far as to respite his execution to Wednesday* 
the 15th' atid afterwards to Tuesilay, August . 
the 21st, the week after, beiqg^tbe day fiittoight 
on which he had murdered his brother; when 
he was conveyed from prfson, in a mourning 
habit, on horseback, many gentlemen attending 
him, with two divines, Mr. Boreman,- and Mr. 
Higgons, rector of Hintort. When he came to 
the place of execution, being dismounted from 
his horse, he stood for more than hialf an hour, 
whilst a discourse was made by the former on 
the heinousness of his crime ; to which, was 
added, a prayer ; which eoded, he went up the 
ladder, and standing in the midst of it, with 
great meekness he desired the prayers of those '' 
present, and with erected hands and eyes, hfe be- 
secched God to forgive him his sins against his 
father and brother, and praying, in a few words, 
for a blessing on his distressed father, he closed 
all with a resignation of his soul into the hands 


of hisf Maker, sayings in a low voice, God's w0 
he done : after which words the executioner did 
his Offfice : and his body, after it had hung a good 
while, being cut down, was pot into a coaqb> 
and carried to Berstcd^ where it was interred Vfi 



TOITS vos gouts sont incolisequetis^ 
Un rlen change vos caracteres, 
Vb Fien copixQande a vos penchans^ . 
Voos pceneZy pour des feux ardens 
Xes bleuettes les plus lege res* , 
La nouveaute, son seul attrait^ 
Vous enflamment jusqu'au delire, 
tin rien suflit pour vos seduire^ 
Et Tenfance est voire jportrait. 
Qui vous amuse^ vous maitrise ; 
Vous fait-on rire ? on a tout fait ; 
Vous^ n'avez tous qu'un seul jargon : 
Bien frivole, bien incommode; 
Si la raison etoit de mode, 
Vous aurez tous de la raison* 



THE 7th of February 1732, O. S. the Rer. 
Mr. Taylor, curate of St. Peter's, in the city of 
Dublin, married, in the said church, a man, 
whose name was James Thompson, shoemaker, 
living in Kevan Street in the said city, to a 
woman named Agnes Roberts, living in thd 
same street. Their ages put together, m^de 176 
years. They both proved their ages to the mi- 
nister. The groom was aged 90, and the bride- 
groom 86 years : both widower and widow. 
She was great great grandmother, having seve- 
ral great grandchildren. 


SIR William Dawes, Archbishop of York, 
was very fond of a pun. His clergy dining with 
him for the first time after he had lost his lady, 
he told them, he feared they did not find things 
in so good order as they used to be in the time 
of poor Mary ; and, lodking extremely sorrow- 
ful, added, with a deep sigh, '^ She was indeed 
Mare Pacificum !" A curate, who pretty well 
luiew what she had been, called out, '^ Ay, my 


240 A9 BflTAPV. 

Lord, but she was Mare Mortuum first.*' Sir 
William gave hina a living of aooA per annum 
within ta»j0 l&OiHh^. :;: -'!:://: . 

. ■ ' . I 

By tie Earl of DorstL 

HERE lies little Lu|idy *, a yard deep or more. 
That never lay quiet or silent before ; 
For her brain was still working, her tongue wa» still 

And the pulse of ller heart contimially beating, 
To the utmost cxtremicfs of loving and hating; 
For her reason »id huiwour were alwiays at itrift^ 
,But yet she performed all the. duties of life; 
For she was a true friend, anc^ a pretty good wife. 
So indulgent a nro tfae r ^ that no otse eouU «ay. 
Whether Minty or Patty did roIe or obey. 
For the government changM $€tee ten times a day. 
At the hour of her birth some lucky star gave her 
Wit and beauty enough to have lasted for e^er ; 
But Fortune still frown'd, when nature is feind^ 
A narrow estate maliciously joined 
To a very great genius and generous 4niBd« 
Her body was made of that superfine day, ' 
Which is ^pt to be brittle for want of allay ; 
And when without show of outward decay. 
It began by degrees to moulder away, 

* She was one of tiie ladies of ihe bedchamber; siud famotil 
iar jser secret influence and intrigues. 



Her fkml then too busy on some foreign aflair. 
Of -its own pretty dwelling took so little care, 
TThat the tenement fell for want of repair. 
Far be froip hence both the fool and the. knav^ 
But let all who pretend to be witty or brave. 
Whether generous friend or amorous slave. 
Contribute some tears to water her grave. 


Bishop of Rochester (Atterhury) to Mr. Prior. 

Deanery, New Year's Day, 1717-8. 

I MAKE you a better present than any man 
in England receives this day — two Poems*, coqa- 
posed by a friend of mine, with that extraordinary 
genius and spirit, which attend him equally in 
whatever be says, does, or writes. I do not ask 
your approbation of them : deny it if you can, 
or if you dare. The whole world will be against 
you ; and should you, therefore,, be so unfortu-. 
nate in jour judgment, you will, I dare say, be 
«o wise and tnodest as to conceal it : for though 
it be a very good character, and what belongs to 

* The Poems of Salomon and Alma. 
VOL. I. K the 

94% , UTTBlt5# 

theiirst pem tn the worlds to write like xwbodf » 
yet to judge like nobody, has never yet been 
esteemed a perfection. 

When you have read them, let me see you 
at my hoose, or else you are in danger, lame 
as I am, of seeing me at yours ; and the dificr- 
ence in that case is, that whenever you have me 
there, in my present condition, you cannot easily 
get rid of me ; whereas, if you come hither, you 
may leave me as soon as you please, and I have 
no way to help myself^ being confined to my 
chair, just as I was when you saw me last. If 
this advantage will not tempt you rather to 
inake than receive the visit, nothing will. 

Whether I see you, or not, let me at least sec 
something under your hand, that you may tell 
me how you do, and whether your deafness con- 
tinues. And if you will flatter me agreeably, 
let something be said at the end of your letter, 
which may make me for two minutes believe 
that you are half as much mine, as I am 

Your faithful 

Humble servant. 

Fa. RoFFzw, 


( a43 ) 

Countess of Shrewsbury. 

IT is a tradition in the family of Cavendish^ 
that a fortune-teller had told her that she should 
not die while she was building; accordingly 
she bestowed a great deal of the wealth she had 
obtained from three husbands in erecting large 
seats at Hardwicke^ Chatsworth^ Bolsover, 
Oldcotesy and at Worksop ; and died in a hard 
frost, when the workmen could not labour. 



1%e following Votes are extracted from the Journals 
of the House of Commons^ dated Jufy 2.^, i645« 

ORDERED, that all such pictures and statues 
there (York House) as are without any supersti- 
tion, shall be forthwith sold, for the benefit of 
Iceland and the North. 

Ordered, that all such pictures there, as have 
the representation of the second Person in t&e 
IVinity upon them^ shall be forthwith burnt. 

& a Ordcrc^, 


Ordered, that all such pictures there, as have 
the representation of thjB Virgin Mary upon them, 
shall be fortb.wit}i burnt. 


Examinatiofi of Mr. MackUny before the Commhtee 
on the Westminster Electioffj ^ri/. 30, 1789. 

I AM now in the eighty-ninth year of my 
age ; I was Born two months before the current 
century ; I came to reside in Westminster in 1 7 20 ; 
I have always resided there since, chiefly in Co- 
vent Garden ; sometinoes in a house in Wyld 

Do you remember most of tl^ elections for 
Westminster ? . . 

' ' I remeihber them^ but many of them, as a 
chaos ; at some of them I have voted ; at many, 
when 1 could, I would not vote. I did not vote 
at the election of Trehtham iatid Vaniiepiit ; I 
had a vote, but I would not give it. 

Have you cofeyersed with old persotiS wh'6 ate 
now dead, respecting the right of Vbting fijr 

,., It was a common topic over both beef Hud 
wine. , , " 


qUAKL&jS MACKLtN. ^45 

r "S^tSitc in whftt description of persons yon col* 
lected from those persons the right of voting to 

They were generally men of business; some- 
times we had a parsoa amongst us, and some- 
times a lawyer. The conversation I mention 
was. sometimes in neighboiirly meetings, and 
sometimes men of estates and fortune were 
among us. Tbeyibad a great wrangling among 
them, and great impertinence in thpir wrangling, 
of course ; and were I to add partiality, I sbouM 
do what was right. Upon the whole I collected, 
that a housekeepeif had a right to vote— that 
was the reigning opinion of all the commori- 
sense men. It was the general opinion not^^ 
withstanding. I understood no other requisite 
to be necessary to have a right to vote, .but that 
a man should be a housekeeper. Many object* 
tions were offered^ but they were not worth a 
farthing. Fools and rogues will offer reasons 
worth nothings but we marked them as there 
being an absiurdity in them ; for we reduced our 
thinking on that matter to this principle ; we . 
thought the Vote of a man in this country was 
his first great blessing in life : we would think 
of nothing else, and despised any man that Sug- 
gested or offered any thing else ; we hooted them 
at last. 

R 3 The 


The undoubted right was for a man to be a 
housekeeper^ and that was the only requisite. 
I refused to vote myself, because I thought I had 
not a full house in my possession, and it was for 
a man I loved-rMr. Fox. Mr. Erskine came 
to me twice, and I said I would not vote, for I 
did not think I was above half a housekeeper. 

As far as I know, this was the right acted upon 
in the several elections I remember. 

I never understood that it was necessary a man 
should be resident any particular time to give him 
a right to vote. I did not know it, but I always 
thought there ought to be. I mean, that there 
should be no imposition ; no fellow foisted upon 

I did not understand that the payment of any 
taxes was necessary to constitute the right — that 
belonged to the law, and not to the vote; we 
talked of that, but we thought that nothing 
should stop the vote. That was our principle ; 
nothing but what stopped life or property; go to 
law for the taxes ; I mean for every demand of 
that nature. 

Did you understand that the payment of paro- 
chial rates had any thing^ to do with the right of 

Certainly no, and for this reason — they endea- 
voured to take away a man's vote by giving him 



mmc charity^ and we insisted that no sodi charity 
should operate to take away the vote- 
Do ywL know whether the inhabitants of the 
Duteby of Lancaster were used to vote at elec- 

I don't know; I believe they did; I heard sOt 
as I recolkct; it was debated over pots of por- 
ter and gills of wine, whether they had a right, 
and it was concluded in favour of voting. 


I was always attached to the broadest system 
of freedom. 

101723, 1 first trod the stage. 

Whether these conversations about freedom, 
and so forth, were not among the idle and profli* 
gate young persons you have mentioned ? 

No ; they were among old persons. 

How came you into the company of those an- 
cient persons? 

Sometimes for economy, sometimes to get a 
little knowledge, and sometimes to laugh at 

Did you laugh at them when they talked 
about the fight of voting ? . 

No ; I paid great attention to them : when I 
found they spoke absurdly, I did laugh at them. 
'J'hey were obliged to hear of the virtue of 

R 4 voting! 


votiQg; ;we potb^^d them iato it; wc ral&d 
them into it. . • 

'. Such things were talked about,, as, taxes being 
paid; but th^t it did not stop voting. A part of 
us did determine so, and part opposed it; but 
the Opposefs wefre held of no value ; they were 
held in great contempt. I was of the party 
espousing it; I was a yoynk^r > long time in it;. 
the party I espoused are what you call ale-house 
patriots, but remember they had very good sense ; 
I mean, they were men of understanding. 

I looked upon the receipt of charity as an ctil, 
if it was given by a rogue to rob a man of his vote^ 

Were all the men>that evw y9.u knew vote, 
respectable housekeepers ? 

No, they were not; there were a great many 
rogues among them. 

I have always heard that the . Putchy ^had a 
right to vote; to the best of my memory the 
Dutchy always did vote. 

Commit iee. 

Can you recollect the names of any of the 
persons with :whom you conversed about the 
right, who are now dead? 
' I can't recollect a single man; iiot being my 

Do you remember an election in 1 741 ? 



- Yes, I do; I am hot clear at what time I had 
my house in that year. I am sure I did not vote 
at that election. 

Do you know any thing of the scrutiny that 
succeeded the election in 1749 ? - > 

I remember the hubbub about itj but nothing 
else : I know of no decision about it. 

I did not vote at any election in 1749. 

Do you know whether people, disputed the 
right of the Dutchy to vote ? 

I don't know; there were disputes about itj 1 
believe. •' 

I have heard that the inhabitants, of St. M»Vr. 
tin s le Grand voted. 


IN 1555, Mr. Tavernier had a special liceftsift 
signed by King Edward the Sixth, to preach in 
any place of his Majesty's dominions, though he 
was a layman ; and he is said to have preached 
before the King at court, wearing a velvet bonnet, 
or round cap, a damask gown, and gold chain 
about his neck. He appeared in the pulpit at 
St. Mary's with a sword by his side, and a gold 
chain about his neck, and preached to the scho- 
lars^ beginning his sermon in these words : 

" Arriving 


** Arriving at tHc mount of St. Mary's, in the 
stonjr stage where I now stand, I have brought 
you some fine biscuits 9 baked in the ovenof cha* 
rity, carefully conserved for the chickens of the 
church, the sparrows of the Spirit, and the sweet 
swallows of salvation/' 


THIS gallant officer, a few weeks after the 
brilliant campaign of 1 746, used to drive out in 
the environs of Paris, without any friend, or even 
attendant. On his return, one day, the coach- 
man stopt as usual at one of the city gates, for 
the inspection of the gate-keeper, " N* avez vous 
rien i declanr^ MommrV* Before the Marshal 
could reply, the officer, instantly recognising 
his person, said, ^* Excusez^ Monsieur^ laurels 
pay no duty/' 


THE great Turennelies in the abbey of Saint 
Denis, without any monumental inscription, 
owing, as it is said, to the jealousy of a mo- 
narch, by no means wanting, in other respects, in 
magnanimity. Bertrand du Guesclin, an hero 
of earlier times, reposes in the same chapel, 



in a mpnument, unworthy of the sacred deposit 
This warrior, the pride of chivalry, and the glory 
of France, appears, by the diminutive figure on 
his tomb, to have been little fitted for the ar- 
duous enterprises of war ; yet, cptemporaryhis* 
torians represent him of an athletic and tnanly 
size. The last scene of Guesclin*s glorious ca- 
reer is singularly remarkable. 

The governor of Rendon, to which he had 
Jaid siege, had capitulated, and engaged to give 
up the place, in case no succour arrived within 
a certain number of days. Du Guesclin fell ill 
before this time, and died on the day preceding 
the expiration of the truce. On the morrow, 
the governor was summoned to surrender : be 
kept his word ; but as it was to Du Guesclin 
himself he had given it, be came out attcQcjled 
by the <:hief officer^ of the garrison, and going 
directly to Guesclin*s tent, he placed the keys 
of the town upon the coiEn of the breathless 


( 2S2 ) 




Archbishop AnselmV Letter to Bernard, Mo?ii 
jof the Abbey of St. Warbngh, oti the important 
Question^ JVhelher it be more meritorious to whip 
one's seJfy or to le whipped by another * ? 

(Fmthfully translated from the Latin.) 


' YOUR Lord Abbot acquainted me, that 
yoti judged It to be of greater merit, when a 
monk either whippeth himself, or desires to be 
whipped of another, than \vhen he is whipped,* 
(hot of his own will) in the chapter, by order of the 
prelate:' but it is not as you think; for the judg- 
ment that man pronounces on himself is kingly, 
but that which he submits to in the chapter is an 
act of obedience, is monkish. That which I call 
kingly, kings, and proud men, wallowing in 
wealth, command to be executed on themselves; 
but that which I consider as monkish, does not 
proceed from self-command, but obedience, 

* Vid, Ansclm. Epist, 255. 



The klogly is undoubtedly much easier, so far as 
it agreeth with the will of the sufTerer ; but the 
monkish is so much ■ the more grievous in pro* 
portion as it is repugnant to the will of the suf- 
ferer. In the kingly judgment, the sufferer is 
judged to be his own ; in the monkish he is 
proved not to be his own. For although the 
king, or rich man, when he is flogged, sheweth 
himself to be a sinner in all humility, yet he 
would not submit to this humility at the com- 
mand of any other, but would . withstand the 
command with all his power. But when a monk 
submits in all humility to the whip, in full 
chapter, in obedience to the command of* the 
'prelacy, it is evident, that the merit is the 
gr€:ater, inasmuch as he humbleth himself more, 
and more truly than the other. For he hum- 
bleth himself to God alone, because he know*- 
eth his sins ; but this man humbleth himself to 
man for obedience. Now he is much lowlier, 
that humbleth himself both to God and man, 
for God's sake, than he that humbleth himself 
to God only, and not to the commandment oi 
God. Therefore, if he that humbleth himself 
sfhall be exalted ; therefore, he that humbletfi 
himself still more, shall be still more exalted. 
But when I said, that when a monk underwent 
the discipline of the lash, it was against his will, 
you must not understand it in 'that light; as 



fhoogh he would not patiently bear it with an 
obedient heart, but becaase, by a natural apper 
tite, he would not suffer the smart ; but> if you 
say, I do not so much fly the open flagellation, 
for the pains (which I feel as much as in secret) 
as for the shame, know then, he is a stranger that 
rejoices to bear this for obedience sake. Rest 
therefore assured, that one whipping of a monk, 
through obedience, is of more merit than innu« 
merable whippings of his own desire. But 
whereas he is such, that he ought, on all occa- 
sions, to have a heart without a whimper to be 
whipt as often as the prelacy pleases, his merit 
then will be great, whether the lash is given in 
public^ or in private. 


DOCTOR Maule was a native of Scot- 
jand; he was bishop of Meath in 1734, a truly 
piimitive Christian divine. His charities were 
so extensive, that notwithstanding the immense 
revenue of his bishopric, he was the poorest 
man in his diocese ; so that his books were sold 
to pay his funeral expenses. If not the founder^ 
he was at least the warmest patron of thp charter* 


tchools, erected in Ireland/ for the instruction 
and support of poor orphans^ &c. the 

^' Plants of his hand^ and children of his prayer/' 

He was a steady friend to the linen- manufac- 
tory in all its branches. By his means industrious 
young women were furnished with spinning«> 
wheels, and indigent weavers with looms, gratis* 
His Lordship's character was attempted in the 
following lines, a few days after his^ death> by 
one that had often tasted of his bounty^ and ve<» 
nerated his worth. 

Old Maule is dead ; fain would I write 

His dirge, although the subject *s trite. 

For scarce a fiddler now can die. 

But newsboys roar his elegy-; 

Yet shall a prelate silent sleep^ 

And not one soul in metre weep 2 

But then his manners were so plain, 

I doubt, my panegyric '$ vain. 

For what of him can well be said^ 

Who to the world hath long been dead ? 

Did he build domes by Attic rules ? 

No : nought but humble charter-schools. 

Did he with taste adorn his rooms ? 

Ne : his lovM furniture was looms. 

Did he politeIy4cecp a day. 

And then his elegance display ? 

No rich sirloins his tabl^ press'd. 

The hungry, not the rich, his guest. 

What civil thing then can I say 

Of one, who liv'd so out o' th' way ? 



Vain 's the attempt, in vain I strive. 
Nor would he thank me if alive : 
For true it is, though somfewhat odd. 
He lov'd no praise, but that of God« 

(Translated from the French.) 
IN the most brilliant period of the reign of 
Louis XIV. two African youths, the sons of a 
prince, being brought to the court of France, the 
King was so struck with the native dignity of 
their manners, that he appointed a Jesuit to in- 
struct them in letters, and in the principles of 
Christianity ; when properly qualified, his Ma- 
jesty gave to each a commission in the guards. 
The eldest, who was remarkable for his docility 
and candour, made a considerable progress in 
learning, as well as in the doctrine of the Chris- 
tian religon, which he admired for the purity of 
its moral precepts, and the good will that it re- 
commended to all mankind, A brutal officer, 
upon some trifling dispute, struck him. The 
youth saw that it was the result t)f passion, and 
did not resent it. A brother- officer, who wit- 
nessed the insult, took an opportunity of talking 
to him on his behaviour, which he did not hesitate 
to tell him as a friend, was too tame, espectally 
for a soldier. ^< Is there,*' said the yoUng negro, 
5 ' ^^ one 


one revolution for soldiers, and another for 
gownsmen and merchants. The good father^ to 
whom I am indebted for my instructions, has^ 
abote all things, earnestly recommended the for- 
giveness and forgetful ness of injuries, assuring 
me, that it was the very characteristic of a 
Christian to love even his enemy, and by no 
means to retaliate an otfence of any kind.** 

" The lessons which the good father gave you,*' 
feaid the friend, ** may fit yOU for k motiastery, 
but they will not qualify you either for the court 
or the army : in a word,*' continued he, '^if you 
do not call the Colonel tp an account, you will be 
branded with the infamous name of a coward, 
and avoided by every man of honour ; and, what 
is more, your commission will be forfeited."— ^'^ I 
would fain,'* answered the young man^ ^** act 
consistently in every thing ; but since you press 
me with that regard to my honour which you 
nave always sheWii> I will endeavour to wipe off 
so foul a stain, though I must confess I glotied 
in it before.'* In consequtnce of which, he im- 
mediately sent a challenge by his friend to the 
aggressor, to meet him early the next mdrning. 
They met and fought ; the brave African dis- 
armed his antagonist ; the hekt day He threw up 
his commission, and requ^cd the fo3ral permis- 
sion to return to bis father. At partings he em* 
braced his brother and his fi^nd^ with tears in 

VOL. I. g his 

258 IGNORA^rU^, C0I8U£D lib 

hi& eyes^ saying, he did not imagine the Chrb^' 
tians were such unaccountable persons, and thaf 
he could not apprehend thekr faith was of any 
use to them, if k did not influence their conduct. 
*' In my country/* said he, ^* we think it no disho- 
nour to aet op to the principles of our reKgion/*^ 



Corrected from jirchhishof Sandcroffs Copy, with 
tie Jctars^ Names^ viz. 

THEODORUS (Mercator) senex. Mr. Hutch- 

kisoB, Gar. H. 
Antoninus (F. Theodori) juvenis. Mr. (aftcr^ 

wards Lord). Hbllis, Chr. Goll. 
Ignoramus (Anglus) Causidicus, Mr. Perkinson, 


. /Mr. Towers, Reginal. af- 

Dulroan 1 ^j^^^. I terwards Bp. of Petcrb.^ 

Musaeus hgnorami |Mr. Perient, Clar. Hall. 

Pecua J [Mr. Barber, Clar. H; 

Topcol (Portugallus) Leno, Mr. BargraVe, Clar; 

H. afterwards Dean of Canterbury (Bargan* 

MSS* A. C. Car.) 
Rosabella (Virgo), Mr. Morgan, Regin. 
Surda^ nana Ancilla, Mr. Compton, Regin. aftei^ 

waids Earl; of Northampton* 
Trico (Theodori) Scrvus, Mr. Lake, Clar. H. af. 

tcrivards Secretary. Banacar 


banacar (Xhcod. Scrvus) Maurus, Dr. Love, 

Clan H. 
Gupes (Bibliopola) Parasitus, Mr. M^san,Pemb. 
PoUa (Cupis Uxor ^ l>y Cbesham, Clan H. 
CoUa (Mooachus) Frater, Mr. Wade, G. A. C. 
Dorothea (Uxor Thepd*), Matrona, Norfplk, 

Vince (a Page Eforothea), Puer, Mr. Comptpn, 

Regin. ' 

Nell (Angla Dorothea) Ancilla, Turner, Clan H* 
Richardus (Tbeodori) Servus, Grame, ClanH* 
Pyropus (Vestiarius), Mr. Wade, G, C. 
Fidicen, orTibicen, Rennarde, Clan H* 
^ . r Gallicus, Tborogood, Clar. 

\ Anglicus, Mr. Mason, Perabn 
(Campo) Thorogood, Clan H. 
Person® mutae, qiiarum sit mentio. 
Prologus prior. Mar. 8, an. 1 6 14. 
Prologus posterior ad secundum regis advent 
turn habitus. May 6, 161 5. 

Archbishop Sandcroft^s copy is at Emanuel, 
amended and supplied from three MS. copies, 
and from the printed edition, an. 1658. 

The list, ot catalogue of names, I compiared 
with a MS. copy at Clare Hall, possibly Mr. 
Ruggle's copy; but it is not in his hand, nor the 
qualities of the actors mentioned. 

Ex MSS. Thomas Baker. 


( 26o ) 


Commtied on his Grace James Sharpe, jtrch- 
bishop of Si. Jndrews^ Primate and Meth>poUtan 
of alt Scotland^ &c. on the ^d of May 1679. 

JAMES Sharpe, son of William Sharpe, shc- 
riflf clerk of Banffshire, was bora in the castle of 
Banff, May 13, 1613. He was educated in 
Aberdeen, aqd professor of phi}osophy and divi- 
nity, successively, iti Ihe college of Aberdeen. 
He was aflerwardsr^ appointed minister of the 
town of CrafK During the troubles in his native 
country, he visited England, and passed much of 
his time at Oxford, in conversation with the 
learned in that university. Oh the restbration 
of the royal family and episcopacy^ he was pro- 
• moted to the archbishopric of St. Andrew, and 
was consecrated in Westminster Abbeyi on the 
15th of December 1661.: he possessed that see 
till the day of his murder. The following narra- 
tion was drawn up a few weeks after the com* 
mission of that horrid deed 2 

" After that God had restored to these klng^ 

doms their king and liberty (mercies never to be 

' forgot, till by our ingratitude for them we have 

deserved to be thrown back into those miseries 



that we have so lately escaped), reasonable men 
might have concluded, that we would have rested 
with much satisfaction under those greit bless- 
ings, for which we had so much longed. But 
that restless bigotry, which had in the late rebel- 
lion distracted out religion, dissolved monarchy, 
unhinged our property, and enslaved our liber- 
ties, did soon prompt the execrable authotsof 
Naj>h^iali ^nd Jus PopuUy who in those books en- 
deavoured to persuade all men to mlEissacre their 
governors and judges by the misapplied example 
of holy Phineas, and did in specific terms assert, 
that there could be no greater gift made to Jesus 
Christ, than the sending the Archbishop of St. 
Andrew's head in a silver box to the King; 
which doctrine prevailed with Mr. James Mit- 
chell, a zealous Naphthalite, to attempt the kill- 
ing of the said Lord Archbishop, upon the chief 
street of Edinburgh, in face of the sun, and of 
the multitude; and he having died, owning his 
crime as a duty, and others having writ books, 
comparing him in this crime to Sampson, twelve, 
or more, of the same sect did, upon the third 
day of^ May last, murder the said Archbishop 
|n this ensuing manner. 

** After his Grace had gone from the secret 
council, where, to a^ravate their crime, he had 
been pleading most fervently for favours to them, 
having lodged at a village called Kennoway, in 

S3 FifFe, 


Fiffe, upop Friday night, the second of May, be 
took his journey next morning at ten oxlock to- 
wards St. Andrews ; and hi|i^ coachman haying 
discovered some horsemen near to , Magus (a 
place near two, miles distant from St. Andrews), 
advertised the Archbishop theraof^ asking, if he 
should drive faster; which his Grace discharged, 
because be said be feared no h^rm : they draw- 
ing nearer, bis daughter seeing pistols in their 
hands^ and them riding at ^ great rate> she per* 
suaded her father to look out, and he thereupoq 
desired his coachman to drive on ; who had cer- 
tainly outdriven theai, if one Balfour of ^Cinloch, 
being mounted on a very fleet horse, had not 
cunningly passed the coach (into which they had 
in vain discharged very many shot), and after bp 
found that he could not wound the coachman, be- 
cause his coach-whip did fright the sprightly horse, 
wounded the postillion, and disabled the foremost 
coach-horses $ whereupon the rest coming up, 
one of them with a blunderbuss wounded the 
Jjord Primate in the coach, and others of them 
called to him to *^ Come forth, vjle dog, who had 
betrayed Christ and his church, and to receive 
what he deserved for his wickedness against the 
kirk of Scotland ;'* and reproached him with Mr. 
James Mitchell's death. Whilst he \vas in the 
coach, one run hira through with a sword under 
bij5 shpulder^ the rest pulled bltfl violently out 



of the coach. His daughter c^me out, and on 
her knees began to beg meroy to her father; bfUt 
4hey beat her, and trampled her down,.. The 
Lord Primate with a very great calmness said, 
** Gentlemen, I know not that ever I injured any 
of you; and if I didj I promise J will make 
what reparation you can propo^.'*— ** Villain, 
and Judas," said they, " and enemy to God and 
his people,, you pball now hare the reward of 
your enmity tp Grod's people ;" which words 
were /ollo\yed with many mortal wounds, the 
first being a deep one above his eye ; and though 
he put then) in mind that he was a minister, arid 
pulling off his cap, shewed them his gray hairs, 
entreating, tbat.if they would not spare his life, 
they would at least allow him some little time for 
prayer. I^ey returned him no other anstver, 
bat tiiat God would not hear so base^ dog a:S he 
was; and for quarter, they told him, that' the 
strokes which they were then giving, were those 
which he w*8 to expiect. ; Notwithstatiding of aH 
which, and of a shot that pieroed bis body; above 
his right pap, and of other strobes which cut 
his hands, whilst he wa& holding tjiem up tp 
heaven in prayer, he raised himself upon hi^ 
}cnees, and uttered oi>ly these words, <^ Qq^ (q^ 
give you all :'* after which, by many strokes, th# 
cut bis skull to pieces, he fell down dead. But 
foine ftf thpm, imagining ikty hM heard hito 

54 groaR, 


groai^^ Feturaed; saying, that be was of the na« 
lore of a cat, and Bo they vvouM go back and 
give one stroke more, for the glory of God ; and 
baring stirred about his brains in the skiill with 
the points of their swords, they to6l£ an oath of 
bis servants. not to reveal their names ; and so, 
desiring ' them to take up their priest, they rode 
back to Magus, ci^ying aloud, that Judas Was 
killed, and from thenoe made their escape. ' But 
God having, in an une^^pected way, furnished pro- 
bation against all who were present, it cannot 
but with a dutiful confidence be expeet^, that 
his Divine Majesty, who is^ so highly offended, 
will, by the same care, bring the assassinates 
themselves to suffer for that crime. * 
.^ " This narrative^ warranted by the depoiiitidns 
of many famous persons upon oath^ will discover 
the many false insinuations expi^essed in. a late 
relation printed at London ; for, whereas it is 
pretended, that this murder proceeded frofh a 
private injury done to one of the assassinates, the 
contrary -will easily appear by these subsequent 

" First, that this murdering principle has been 
printed and practised by others formerly against 
the same person, such as he never knew nof 

*• Secondly, it appears by the many expressions 
afpresaid, that he suffered for his function. 

*^ Thirdly, 


^' Thirdly, many of th*e same persuasion bad 
foretold it in several places ; and one of the mur- 
derers had that morning, after a sacrilegious 
form of devotion, held up his hand, and sworn, 
that that hand should kill the Archbishop; 
whereupon his hostess kissed him. Nor can it 
be denied, but that he who commanded the 
foot for Mr. Welsh upon Reupar-Law (that fa* 
mous field-conventicle), owned, that their friends 
thanked God for the Archbishop's death, Vat 
were sorry they knew not to whom they owied 
the obligation. 

** Fourthly : It is known both by all the Arch- 
bishop's acquaintance, and the present low state 
of his fortune, that he never used any rigour to 
his debtors : and oiie of the lords of session, 
who transacted that inconsiderable affair relating 
to Jtlackstoun (on which the false KARaATiV£ 
charges this murder), did declare publicly 
amongst his brethren-judges, that the Arch- 
bishop bad dealt most generously with that mis- 
creant, who wus never a servant to his Grace, 
And how can it be pretended, in a nation, where^ 
no man was ever murdered for using legal ex- 
ecution, even in the greatest concerns, that the 
other eleven would have hazarded their lives 
and fortunes in killing a churchman, and a 
privy counsellor, to satisfy the useless revenge of 
one of their number in so mean a matter ? And, 



tbeimot taking his gold nor watch, and ^ con« 
^iderable sum which lay open enough in the 
coach^ did convincingly proye^ that there was 
more of .bigotry than o( avarice in th^t under- 
taking, . 

" Fifthly : It is undeniable, that those of that 
same profession and way have lately vi^ounded 
many of his Majesty- s officers, for putting of his 
uncontroverted laws in executioti ; and parti- 
cularly they contrived the death of the town ma- 
jo^ of Edinburgh, and in pursuance of that de- 
sign, did, with many w^ounds, leave him, and 
some of bis Majesty's soldiers, almost dea^ upon 
the plape, one of them having beeji aflually 
killed. They also at Loudpun killed one of his 
R<5^jesty'« sqldji^rs in hi§ bed, and wounded and 
robbed others of them without the least provo- 
cation ; pretending in defence of their cruelty^ 
that the soldiers were eneqiies to Christy and 
that they would conclude themselves damned, if 
they paid the cess granted by the convention of 
all the three estates for the necessary defence of 
the kingdom* 

" Sixthly : By a manifesto dispersed some few 
d^ys before the murder, his Grace, and all who 
served the King in FifFe, were threatened with 
certain death. All Nvhich does but too much 
justify the courses taken in tl^at kingdom against 
S;uch people, and refutes suc^i as make tljat pass 


mu'rper of archbishop sharps* QiSj 

for cruelty, which is but necessary and selfr 
defence : and by all which it appears, that this 
murder was not occasioned by private resent- 
ments, but by the principles of Naphthali i and 
such as were notorious ringleaders in that tribe, 
^nd their conventicles. 

" It is likewise very observable, that the author 
of that most scandalous narrative has impiously 
lied; in assertjng, that the bullets did not pierce 
the Archbishop's body ^ insinuating thereby that 
he was hard: whereas by a declaration under 
the hands of a physician and three ^urgebns (of 
which William Borthwick, to whom that author 
impudently appeals, is one), it is most evident, 
that the Archbishop's body was pierced by one 
cf those shots : the words of which declaration 
(still remaining amongst the warrants of* the 
privy council) are these : The first of these wounJs^ 
Ifeing two or three inches below the right tla'viclef 
ietween the second and third rib, which was given 
by a shot, not reaching the capacity of the breast^ 
Captain Castaires likewise had no commission 
from the Archbishop, but from the privy coun- 
cil ; and Baily Carmichaell had no commission 
from the privy council, but from the Earl of 
Rothes, Lord High Chancellor, and Sheriff 
Principal of FifFe by inheritance. 

*« The horror that attends this faA, the dreadful 
pvents for which it n^akes vy^y, and the scandal 



that it raises upon the true Protestant religion, 
cannot but breed in all just feien, a detestation 
of the principles from whence it flowed, and an 
abhorrence of those who endeavour to extenuate 
it with false pretences.'* 


THE vice-regal administration of Lord Ches- 
terfield in Ireland, waa^ distinguished in many 
respects beyond that of kny other viceroy who 
had preceded him. As a judge and patron of 
learning, his levees were always crowded with 
men of letters, and the Castle drawing-rooms 
were enlivened with a constellation of beauties. 

Miss Ambrose was universally allowed to be the 
brightest star in that constellation. She was a Ro- 
man Catholic, and descended of one of the oldest 
families in the kingdom. Her charms and vivacity 
(which were always tempered with modesty and 
prudence) furnished his Lordship with many op- 
portunities of complimenting both, with a delicacy 
peculiar to a nobleman of his refined taste and wit. 
On the first day of July, the Protestants of Ireland 
wear orange lilies, in commemoration of the 
battle ^f the Boyne, which was fought, on that 
day, and which is a grand gala at court. On 



one of these occasions. Miss Ambrose appeared 
with an orange lily in her bosom, which imme- 
<iiately caught the Viceroy's eye, and called 
forth the following extemporary lines: 

Say, lovely traitor, where 's the jest 
Of wearing orange on thy breast ; 
Where that same breast uncover'd shews 
The whiteness * of the relet rose ? '^ 

A few days afterwards, a delegation from the 
ancient town, of Drogheda waited on his Lord* 
ship with the freedom of their corporation in a 
gold box. Miss Ambrose happened to be pre- 
sent : as the box was of the finest workmanship; 
she jocosely requested that his Lordship would 
give it to hen " Madam,*' said he, " you have 
too much of my freedom already .** Lord Ches- 
terfield used to say, in allusion to the power of 
beauty, that she was the only dangerous Papist 
in Ireland. 

Encircled by a crowd of admirers, in the hey- 
day of her bloom, she had the good sense to 
prefer the hand of a plain worthy baronet (S^ 
Roger Palmer) to all the wealth and titles that 
were thrown at her feet. The marriage of this 
lady was announced in one of the Dublin prints 
in th^ words : 

♦ Tl\t white rose, the ensign of the houie 0/ Hyde. , 


ifO An AtTEMPi td i)RAW tfts i^edxcal 

toublin, Nov. 14, 1750. 

" The celebrated Miss Ambrose of this king- 
dom, has, to the much-envied happiness of one^ 
and the grief of thousands, abdicated her maideir 
empire of beauty, and retreated to the temple 
of HjrmenV Lady Palmer is still alive ; and ha» 
the second pleasure of seeing herself j^owwg- agaiti 
in a numerous traia of grandchildren/* 


By the late J. R r, Esq. 

I*ERHAPS there is not a more arduous tasfc 
in the varieties of literature, than to designate 
a proper character to late departed merit: a 
friend, or an enemy, generally takes the pencil } 
by the former it is surcharged, and obscured by 
the fatter. Fortunately, time meliorates the 
glov9ing tints, and raises virtue from the shade. 

Great characters are rarely viewed in a proper 
Kght by their contemporaries : we are too intimate 
with the human nature of the man, to conceive 
the soul. If there is the least probability of 
fotmiiig any general idea, it must- be by a per- 

son too remote from intimacy, or one incapabie 
of chyy. 

I hav^ taken up ray pen as a poor compKment 
to the memory of Dr. Warren, leaving the task 
to his equals tp pay doe regard to his merit. 

The early part of bis life came not within thcf 
sphere of my observation : I saw him in his me- 
ridian — viewed him in his setting sun : wherf 
disease had overpowered the corporeal, still saw 
the preservation of the mental part. Almost, I 
believe, the last of the inferior medical meny 
who necessarily met him, the same humanity^ 
' the same judgment, and the same dignified hu* 
mility, which some who thought lightly, dr did 
not think at aU, mistook for pride, accompanied 
hiift to his last visit. He forgot himself: he 
lliought for his patient : they parted too soony 
to meet again. 

In reviewing the life of Dr. Warren., we are 
to' consider the man who stood for thirty-eight 
years on the pinnacle of medical fame. It is 
commonly observed, that situations make men : 
here is an indubitable proof of the man- being 
tnade for his situation; Ignorance could never^ 
maintain itself against the studious attatk of 

He had too m«ny great characters to cope 

with, not to tail forth all his exertions. Pos- 

messed of intuitive judgment, they admitted 

2 - h'is^ 


his traoscendent abilities, and silently recededl. 
It is an honour to merit to give merit its due ^ 
and the mass appeared as great men^ when they 
placed Warren at their head. 

In a period of two thousand years, physic ha^ 
little to boast of in the line of observing natute. 
Hippocrates laid down a plan which art seemed 
to shudder at as. too simple : hence the multi- 
tude of rules, the family of physicians. A long 
chasm succeeded, never filled up to the time of 
Sydenham. Nature here began to revive again ; 
and the good sense of his successors promises i 

From a deep investigation of the father of 
physic, from! a percipient power to attain the 
simplicity of Sydenham, from the ardour of his 
own mind, Dr. Warren acquired a celebrity 
equal to either of them. 

His antagonists may say, He has left little or 
nothing in writing behind him. What did Socrates 
leave ? Perhaps a future Plato of the schoQl of 
Warren may condescend to inform us. Arc we 
sure the Coan's observations are not mutilated ? 
the son of Panarete was too much employed to 
favour us with a regular digests 
. In observing nature, Warren's principal forte 
consisted in knowing what was to be done, with- 
out oversteppsng the proper bqunds. If anti- 
quity claims the merit of observation, modem 


Vi&ci (ietbiti^ cair praiSe foV tii^ b!^|kht ftimplti 
b!(y of thedical tettbulae ; ancl, ili h\i liariaSj 
theite tVCTe eattted t6 as high a i$itcl)f as file a^ 
WilWver attaih. 

With an cncyttoiifedic toihci, he girted the 
MoTehobsfe of ndturfe, am! cfreiXr flpottt the f ^Hbus 
auxiliaiy Sciences ill that wiis ntct&^rf to coiii- 
plete the physicidti. *th6 gtttii Sjrd'ebham did 
hot live to see tli^ tbedickl ^atdeh deeded from 
its superfluitibs : hehce airose preSCilptibhs too 
disgustful for modern ptactice. It is biit of laic 
date, an inquiry has been ihade^ what the powoj 
o( medicine will do, and a right art of appro* 
priating them to that purpose : it is a just^ a pro- 
per refitiement of the thodern school. 

I run i • i' r vfr . 


between an English Gentleman on iis Arrhal in 
Ireland^ and Terence^ his Servant ^ a Native 
of that Country. 

Master. lX)ES it rain ? 
Terry. No, Sir. 

Master. I see the sun shines-— PcIj/ nuBJa Phce* 

Terty. The post has not come in yef. 
Master. How long did you Iiy^ with Mr. T. ? 
Terry. In trbth, Sir, I can't tclL \ passed my 
VOL. X. T time 


time 4IO. pleasantly in his service^ that I never 
kept any account of it. I might have lived with 
Kim all the days of my life^ and a great deal 
longer if I pleased. ^ ; ; 

M^H^r, What made you leave him ? 
,T«-p^,..Myj,,yjoaqg mistress took it into her 
head to bx^k.jjiy heart ; for I was obliged to at 
tetid hef'tp^cifeuu^pji, to the play, &c. 
^, ^Master. W^^^not youi^.nj^stcra proud rp^n? 

7>rr>'v T'hc proudest man in the kingdom j 
for Jie vxpi^ldf qot do a dirty action for theani- 
vef se. .... 

Mfsfer. What age are you now I 

Tjrryt. .1 am just the same age of Paddy Lahy : 
he dnd I werp^horn in a week, of each other. 

Master. How old is he ? 

Terry. I caa^t4cll; nor. I- don't think he can 
tell himself. 

A^ster. Were yoii born in Dublin ? 

Tiprry, 'No, Sir, I might if I had a mind ; but 
I pic^ferred the country. And, please God, if 
I live and do well I Ml be buried in the same pa- 
rish I was born in. 

Master. You can write I suppose ? 

Terry. Yes, ^ir, as fast as a dog can trot. 

Master. Which is the usual mode of travelling 
in this country ? 

. T^rry. Why, Sir, If you. tray el by water, you 

must take a boat. And if you travel by land, 

' ' cither 


^tfaei: iq a. chaisci or on horseback; and those 
that 09j(i'it;aSQt(i eitbet one or t'other^, are obliged 
to trudge it en foot. 

Master. Which is the pleasantest season, for 

Terry, Faiths Sir, I thi/^k that season in which 
ii man' has most money in his purse. 

Master. I believe your roads are passably 

Terrj. They are all passable, Sir^ if you pay 
the turnpike. 

Master. 1 am told you have ato immense num- 
ber of horned cattle in this country. 

Terry. Do you mean cuckolds. Sir ? 

Master. No, no : I mean black cattle. 

Terry. Faxth, we have. Sir, plenty of every 
colqun ! • : ' 

Mister. But I think it nrii^ too much in Ire- 

Terry. So every one 3ays : but Sir Boyle says, 
he will bring in an act of parliament in favour 
of fair weather $ and I am sure the poor bay* 
makers and turf-cutters will bless him for it. 
€rod bless him: it was he that £tst proposed 
that every quart bottle should hold a quart. 

Master. As you have many fine rivers, I sup- 
pose you have abundance of fish. 

Servant. The best ever water wet. The first 
fish in the world, except themselves. Why, 

T 2 master. 

ihaater, I won't tell you a lie ; if you were at the 
jftoyn^, you -could get salmon and trout for 
nothing, and if you were at BaUy&hatiny, you*d 
get them for less. 

Master. Were you ever in England ? 

• Servant. No, Sif,> but Td like very much to 
see that fine country. 

• Muter. Your passage tdr Liverpool, or the 
Head, would not cost more than half a guinea. 

Sefvcmt. Faith, master, rd rather walk it than 
pay the half of the money. 


GOVERNOR Bradford, in his Register of 
the jfirst Plymouth Golofiy at Plymouth, Amc- 
rica, says, that the first duel fought in New 
Sngland happened 6n Jurtc loth, i6jo, upon a 
challenge at smgle combat With swotd and Sag- 
gcfj between Edward Doty and Edward Leister, 
xervwits of Mr. Hopkins. Bbth being Wounded, 
the one in th^ hand, the other in the thigh, they 
were adjudged, by the wlxole' company, to Imve 
their head and ftfet tted together, and so to lie 
for twehty-fouF hours, uvithoiit meat of drink, 
%hich Mfas begun to be inflicted ; but within an 
hour, because #f (heir great pains, at thdir own 


COKQtiEVE. tt77 

ftDdtheir master's humble request, upon prop:^i$e 
of future good behaviour^ tliey were released by 
tbe governor. 


MR. William Congrevo' was the son of a 
younger brother of a good old femily in Staf^ 
fordsbire, who was employed ii> the stewardship 
part of the great estate of the* Earl of Bur- 
lington in Ireland, where he resided many years. 
His only sop. the poet, was born in that coun* 
try, went to school at JCilkeony^ and from thence 
to Xrlaity College, PMblUiy.wbcre I^ Imd the 
advantage of being cduc^ed imdef a polke scho** 
lax and ingfaious g^ntlqoa^iv. Dr, ^t. George 
Ashe^ who was ^ter Provost of that coilege, 
then Bisihop of Cloghj&r, ^nd thea Bishop of 
Dcrry. Thb prelate had thfi gi-cat good fortune 
of having two pupils, the two most faiiio|j9 poets, 
and^ moi^ Axtr^ic^diiiVlfry mex^ of (heiir.own, or any 
other age. Dr. Swift, and Mr. William Con- 
greve. The liattcr" was entered of the Middle 
Temple. His, first . performance was a npvd, 
called IncognUa ; then he began his play, called 
the Qid Bachdon. Having Itttte acquatotaiice with 
the tradws in tbat v^ayyhis courais wcommonded 

T 3 hiip 


blm to a fttend of thciirs, who was very useful tQ 
him in the whole coiiVse'of his play. He en- 
gaged Mr» Pryden in its favour ; who^ upon 
reading it, said, he never saw such a first play ini 
l\is life: but, the author not being acquainted 
with the stage, or the town, it would be a pity 
to have it miscarry, for want of a little assist- 
ance ; the stuff was rich indeed ; it \yanted only 
the fashoniable cut of the town. T6 help that, 
Mr. Dryden, Mr. Arthur Mainwayring, and Mr.^ 
Southern, did it with great care ; and Mr. Dry- 
den put it in the order it was played. Mr. Sou- 
thern obtained of Mr. Thomas Davenant, who 
then governed the playhouse, that Mr. Congt^eve 
should liave the privifege df the playhouse, half 
a year before l^is play wis plkyed, which was 
never alloiwed to any one before ; which play 
made him many friends. Mr. Montacue, after 
Lord Halifax, put him into tl;ie comniission for 
hackn^y-coadfies, and then into the pipe office ; 
and then gave him a patent place in the Customs 
of ^bb/i'4'fear. 

" .'• 'f%tog. Anecdotes. Brit^ Mus. 4%%i. PluL 



ON TuQgjtiajr, April ift,-% 1732,, one Richard 
Smitl^j,;* bookbiftd/^r, :arid,^..prisoj^^^ for debt- 

r • T within 

within the liberties oS the King's Bencb^ and 
firidget his wife, were found banging qear ifaeif 
bed, about a yard distant from each other>'bnd in 
another room their little child, about two/ yeari 
old, was (bund in a cradle, shot through the head* 
The following letters left in the ropm, one di^ 
rected to their landlord, and twa others enclosed 
to MnBrindley, a bookbinder, in :iNew Bond 
Street, will best account t for ibis, melancholy 
action. : 

"> • To Mr. Brightred. 

•• The necessity of my affairs has obliged twb 
to ^veyou this trouble; I hopeJihave led mora 
than is sufficient for the mdney I owe^jrOu i hbeg 
of' you that you wUl send these ^enclosed papers^ 
Ji8> directed, immediately, dby sdmeifbfter^ aind 
that without shewing them* to any ooc; 

*' Your bumble servaat,^' , 

" RxbtiAB^D Smith* 

"]^. S. rhave a siiit of blaclc cl6t*hes at the 
Cock in Mint Street, which lies Tor 17^. 6</. If 
you can find any chap for my dog' and ancient 
cat, it would be kind, ' ' 

" I have here sehf a shilling fbr tbi* J>6rt^t.*' 


'^ It is now about the time I promised payment 
tO'Mr. Brodks, which I have performed in the 

T 4 best 

hcek qULOi^r I w^s able ; I wUb it had bceq doq« 
viQte to youc satisiaction ; buttle thiag.Mpi^ im-i 
posaihle. I hpre return you my hearty thanks foe 
the favours which I have received^ itheix^ all the 
tribute I am able to pay. There is a certaiq 
anonyqpiQus person whom you have some:Juiow-r 
ledge of, who, I am informed, has taken some 
pains to make the world believe he baa done me 
siany services. I wish that said person had, never 
troubled his head about my affairs ; I am sure bf 
had no business vyith thpiT\ ; for it is entirely ow- 
ing to his ipeddling that I came pennyless intq 
^ plac^.] wfcerjQa^, h»4. I br<^ught twenty 
pounds in with i^, whichlco^ld easily Jb^yo 
4aDQ, } wiAiivA then have m^m^ s^\^v^e my 
)>£ead herei ^4 ^P time htrSLli/^ to, qome.tP,. ternofi 
vith my pl^iotifE; whos^ lunacy^ I beltpTO^ could 
not have lasted a^W^y^ I must nothicr^ qoxj^^ 
elude ; fo; my oieddHng friend's man, Sanchp 
PanchOj \;^ould^ perhaps, take it ill, did J, not 
make mgiajti^^ c^ Jt^jpv^ therefore, if it lies i?i ypur 
VfSLy^ Jet 5f Uf^o Ij^Qpvj^,. tljt%t hjs.injipud.enpe and in* 
solcnj^jQ wij^.n^t SjOi, W.yc^Jprgqtte^i a^ 4?^pise4. 
i shall now make an end of; tj|^§ epistle, ^egiripg? 
you tqi.pyhJ,\^5i t^e eflfdfli^^ to t^?,. Wper 

how, I leave entirety to your judgment. That aU 
happiness may attend yoi^ and yiWrs', ia.>ih9 
^rajfprqf; .. :.,,..; •• ,::: . -.^ .^^, ;-;; •■ 


•miAHilABXr WI€U>&r til 

. *^:P. 8. If it lic« in yoiir way, let tliat good* 
taoedmao, M(. Duocome, know, that Sxraieiia^ 
b(?r<ei) him with my latent breath/' 

To Mr. Brindky. 

^f These actions, considered in all their circum-* 
dances, being somewhat uncommon, it may ndL 
be improper to gif e some account of tho cause, 
^nd that it was an inveterate hatred we conceived 
againat poverty and rags ; eyiis, that throiigh a 
train of unlucky accidents, were become inevi-r 
taUe ; for we appeal to all that ever knew us, 
Vfhether we were either idle or extrnVagant;^ 
wfiether or no we have not taken as much paint 
if} get our living as our i^ighhours, although not 
attended with the same success. We apprehexi4 
the taking ouv child's life away to beacimumn 
stance for whiidi we sli^ be generally con*^ 
demned;: luft £br our own parts, we are perfectljf 
easy upon that head ; we are satisfied it i? lesa 
cruelty to take the child with us, even supposing 
a s^teof annihilation, as some dream of, thanto 
leave bet iriepdless in the world e^posjed to igno-* 
i:ance. and misery^ I^ow, in order to obviate 
some censures, which may' either proceed froxxx 
ignoranoe or malice, we think it proper to inforna 
^he world,' that we firmly believe the existence of 
.^Imigbty Ghoi^;; that this belief of ours is not ai\ 
fipplrpit f^ith, but deuced from, the nature and 



reason of things : w€ believe the existence of an 
Almighty Beings from the consideration of h\» 
wonderful works ; from a considierattonbii those 
innumerable, celestial^ and glorious bodies^ and 
from their wonderful order and harmony. We 
have also spent some time in viewing these won- 
ders, which are to be seen in the minute part of 
the world, and that with great pleasure and satis- 
faction ; from all which particulars we are satis- 
fied that such amazing things could not possibly 
be without a first Mover — ^without the existence 
of an Almighty Being : and as we know the 
yronderful God to be almighty, so we cannot help 
believing but that he is also good ; not implaca* 
ble ; not like such wretches as men are ; not taking: 
delight in the miseries of his creatures; for which 
reason we resign up our breaths unto him with-' 
out any terrible apprehensions, submitting our- 
selves to those ways which in his goodness he 
shall please to appoint after death. We also 
believe the existence of unbodied creatures, and 
think we have reason for that belief; although, 
we do not pretend to know their way of subsist* 
ing. We are not ignorant of those laws made. 
in terrorem, but leave the disposal of our bodies 
to the wisdom of the coroner and his jury, the, 
tjbtng being indifferent to us where oiir bodies^ 
are laid, from whence it will appear how little^ 
anxiouswe are about 9 ^h jacet; we^ for pur 
• ^ parts. 

but'^lNill <k>fitent* ourselves ^ith a bcmowed egnr 
t4pbj^faich we shall insert in this paper i^ 

Without a. i^ajpe, for ever silent, dumb^ 
Dusfj ashes^ nought else^ is within thid tomb; 
Where we were boiujorbred>-it matters not. 
Who were our parents, or hath us begot; 
We were, but now ar^ ^ot^ thjnk no more of us. 
For ^ we are, so you '11 be tum'd to dust. 

; . ^^ It is th|& opinion qf jQ^tiir»lists, that bur bodies 
are at certain stages ;pf life composed of nevr 
mattef, so that a great many poor meu h^ve new 
bodies oftener thaq new clothes : nqw, as di- 
yines are npt ablp to iofprm us wbicli 4^ Ithpse 
^veral bodips shall rise at the iresurrectioq, ,it is 
very probable th^t tho d^pciased b^y.may lie 
for isveir^leQt as well as any other. 

♦' Brjdoet Smith/V 

The coroner^s jury found them both guilty of 
self-murder, ^nd of wiffut murder as to the child. 
They were both buried in the cross- way near 
Newington turnpike. 

Thtf following is bopied frbm a MS. noter 
in ^ri ^d Magazine, in which this melancholy 
eVent i& reliated : ** I knew Smith ; he was a very 
«dbe¥^ honest, industrious man, a constant at- 
t^ndairrt^ cbiifich, but too fond of reading tneta*; 


«$* • '•-••j*U!WW»».--.- — 

conversation;; *i SToir^^j-^r ifo^ tn h^ WW alvrfjrK 
in his mouth. 

.11.- • ' .. 

THE irresistible power of love over the hu-^ 
lAaa H)ind^ has been mafnife^d in a thousand 
Instances, as well in civiliised a» in barbarous na«- 
tions. About forty •yealrs^ ago^ a melanchoYy 
event occurred in the town of Enmskilten in the 
nc^th of Ireland. A Jk^ung woman of good in- 
inily, handsome person^; ^lifd wAlK^uiE*ated^ ^ 
native of that town, had scarcely attaincid her 
eighteenth year, wfa^n she wa« eoilrte^ by f 
young man, every way worthy of her hand, ex- 
cept in point of fortune. This single defect, in. 
tjhe view of berpa^cmts, fvj;^ an iwjifp^^l^e jbar 
to their uivpn^ As tb^yo^i^ldt ppt^siee: with.^heii^ 
c}augbter*8 eyes, they i^roached hisr in the 
sharpest terms for indulging tlie ii^sit seattfiiaDt 
Q$ ^itpm for ^ ywing fpljow, who bad n^t^ng 
tp ifccffi^wend hiip/b\*t i¥s ediica^ion wdmqN- 
if^. They iij^isti^d, \k^ ^ should bi^e^b^ off aU 
C^trespppdisqce witljj, biWi WVi.tfc^t sh«;shr0i«lj| 
tBfiQ fe«fi .fll^fttiwilo^ o©g tM cflftW: ftjppwft hep 
1.. •.'.'.. in 

Hk kiAtixm i^\iMt td It^i' bitth tod ibirtutie. 
Ill y«tftdle!«ittatt«topt to tcWioflsttate: ttiiiTai^ 
tlWf ciffl^ ttt^ all'hisitiithMitjfi add hi^sfedlhdl 
M» cMfMta^kikfe driMNt b6 ob^i^ With6ut a sin- 
gte mumiur. Thfe yonrtg lady protested, m thtf 
bittdAll^s &f fa«t iMiM/tbal^ if forced 16 gi^ htt 
band to aby othct, ft WWiM xiot, not doiild be, 
a6tott(ttnk!dl>jr hier heart, foif &hc was no longer 
a&sinM crflt ; atd that all the wealth inthet^otld 
cikild tiot compensatt6 for the Ib^s of hrir lover. A 
ytoiig tnkh in the neighfeouthdod, hoxV^ever, Wai 
base ettbugh to mat¥y hfer oil these terttis. It i^ 
but justice to say, that he behaved to her with thS 
greatest tenderaessy aad did every thing in his 
power to conciliate her affections, but in vain ; 
she did not carry. ker^df td^ards him with any 
suUenness, but conducted herself in a very be- 
e6ming manner as a wife. Having a large com- 
^ainy orie momiilg at breakfast, she seemed so 
gay, that eVety pfet&bn iii the room took notice 
of it, and congratulated the husband on the 
opening prospect of his future felicity. When 
the visitants were gone, she went to a cupboard, 
took out a tea-cup, and drank the contents of it ; 
her husband observed that it was a sweet draught 
" Yes," said she with a smile, " the sweetest 
I ever drank in my life/' When she had with< 
drawn, he examined the cup, and found that the 
sediooeijts were white ; as he was not without his 


a86 M. B01S9T. 

* **■'■'■ 

tiispidam^ .he pomm^nicated' tl^ aiat^f^.tel fi^ 
friend,. who desired,.^M9i tp r^tj^raranR^jquestioa 
bk.iTvi^^ Qiidnnqr : 'She didfjipt hesi- 

tate to teU.hxn),;that.iyt,w,^{)oisaB,^dH^ she 
began- tp fedl tl^ie happ ^ff^cwoi it« , She told 
bim this .with ^ ^xoK^^Lj^^^jAex^Mf^^ thiit be 
scarcely knew what to believe i in a ^ort timiPi 
boweyef, be found that she, bpditold,;.b|K9 :th^ 
trath^ Remedies were forced on her^ b^t without 
cfiect. The potion was so strong,. that,;in Iqss 
than an hour the cold hand of death sealed 
those eyes that even smiled in the midst of ago- 


GENIUS is a plant of celestial growth t 
when it happens to rear its sickly head in earthly 
soil, it is always bedewed with the tears of pp* 
verty. For the truth of this, we need only ap-^ 
peal to the lives of the poets^ &c, in all ages and 
in all nations. M. de Boissy may well be added 
to the catalogue ; a French dramatist of con^i* 
derable merit, whom poverty, in the words of 
Otw^y, ** had chased in view,^* from his cradle 
almost to his grave* He was industrious ; but 
who would " meditate the thankless muse," in 
this degenerate age, when even the cheap reward 


M. B01S8Y. ft87 

of empty .praifie. is doled out with niggard hand^ 
M. de Bois$y was not doomed to drink his bitter 
cup alone ; the fates^ severely kind, had oniained 
that an afiectionate wife and an infant cUld 
should share it, even to the dregs. Having booA 
tended with the: waves of adversity day after day 
and night after night, with all the fortitude of a 
man, the affections of a husband, and the tender-^ 
ness of a father, he found his strength at 
length begin to fail, and that it was in vain to 
struggle any longer ; he had friends, a few, but 
as he always endeavoured to appear in a decent 
habit, and to assume that gaiety which is almost 
peculiar to a Frenchman, they thought that his 
circumstances were easy, and that they mighty 
perhaps, offend the man, if they offered to relieve 
the poet. He did not attempt to undeceive 
them ; his pride forbade it.- His wants now be<- 
came pressing; he cast his eye around ; the pro* 
spect was dark on every side; not a ray of hope 
to brighten up the gloom of a miserable garret, 
nor yet to play upon the face of his only ghild, 
a little girl of two years old. In such a situation, 
what was to be done? Death at length pre- 
sented himself. On any other occasion, perhaps^ 
the very idea of the grisly phantom would have 
carried terrors with it ; but he came as a friend 
tliat promised to relieve a wretched family of all 
their afflictions, and to wipe away their tears at 


tit ik. Hoisst. 

toboe. How gri^l tmsi h^^b b^l^ the :bdfifi!dH 
whcii a man of B6i9«y*i^ ieb*ilnfity feb^ld brihg[ 
bfinself at last to telmqi»t6h Qvtt^i&^ dFliftf> mA 
iHisimime', f^^hich eVery imift podt fehrSii bcttfcr than 
life! .Bathe was not-tvillinglo lidVe feii iVife^ 
sob yet the pledge of their mutual l6ve, bebindi 
toihe m^rcy of an- unfeeling world* Pct4iiA^,hft 
thodgbt thai the little innocent w6tiM (ilead tbtf 
caustiof the hapless father and fllother in the 
presence, of an offended Deity* The arguments^ 
which he used to prevail on his wife to join in 
this r^olution must be kft t6 tht iriiaginatioti bl 
thereader* There are many wayS that lead to 
dfekth, and the path at length chosen was un- 
dbubtedly a lingeting one^ but perhaps that 
which was conceived to bfe least shocking, in the 
dreadful alternative of self-iiiurdef, as the very 
idea of spilling bloed stains the soul with horror! 
Let us pass over this conflict in silence. They 
agreed to starve themselves to death. In order to 
carry thw dreadful resolve into effect, and to 
avoid all interruption, they barricaded their ob- 
scure apartment, and placed themselves in two 
chairs, opposite to each other. In thi^ sifuatiott 
they continued till Ihc evening of the third day^ 
when a friend, accustomed to visit want when il 
couM not visit him, came up staifs, and found 
that door shut which always used to fly open af 
hts presence : lit rapped, bnt reciiiwd no answer ; 
I he 

R8NRT XV..OF SRANeS*: 289 

fae listened^ And at length heard a'gfoari that came 
from the heart. Having collected his strength^ 
he burst open the docM-, and stood aghadt at the 
view that presented itself; he was at no loss to 
account for it ; life was just on the last wiqg; 
be reasoned, and, though his reasonings werft^ 
forcible, they would have provdd wefibctiial, if 
the little baby had not Isent up her looks, Those 
looks were too ppwerfiil to be withstood; they 
pleaded with the tongue of an angel, and the 
father add mother yielded. Proper cordials were 
administered, and the friend took care that those 
victims of distress should never have occasion to 
resort to such an alternative agaii). 

M. D'Alembert, in his ^< Hist des Membres 
de I'Academie Fran^pise,'' vol. vi. i2mo. Paris, 
1787, mentions the extreme indigence of Boissy^ 
and that he shut himself up with his wife and 
child in his room, with a resolution of staryinj^i, 


AS soon as Henry had broken off his engage-^ 
ments with Margaret de Valols, he contracted a 
second, very contrary to his inclination (but for 
the good of the state, and in hopes of a succea^ 
Sor), with Marie de Medicis. Sully, who had re- 
commended and promoted this union, bad no 

VOL. I. V sooner 


wdner dbttiined the King's consent^ than be siiA 
cff dispatches^ married the King by proxyi; 
brought the Queen over to Fnince^ and conducted 
her as far as Lyons, before Henry^ bad anyidta 
that the first forms were carried into exedulion* 
When Sully told bim tbe Chieen had arrived at 
li^ons, besemoidd struck with amazenlenii and 
remained silent for some time ; at length , ckp* 
I^hg bis bands smartly tocher, •* Well thtn,'* 
said tii^ King, ♦* be it so ;'* and accordingly pre- 
jiared t6 set out immediately for Lyons> and ar- 
riving there at might, while the Queen was sopping 
in public,' be entered the ball, and mixed with the 
crowd, to steal a first sight of her4 The Queen, 
who knew be wad upon the road, and expected 
him tbat night at Lyons, went rather through th^ 
oereinony bf ^tipping, than eating her supper, and 
was glad to retire to her private apartment, 
where she bad been but a very short time, beforo 
the King was at her door: she instantly went 
forth, and meeting him in the passage, threw 
herself at hi? (§et, The JCiog rai^ and ten- 
derly embraced her, led her back to her apart- 
ment, where, after some general conversation, he 
took her by the hand and retired from the rest of 
the company to another part of the room, where 
he held half an bour*s private conversation, and 
retired to his supper — a, supper, like the Queeo*s, 
sobri over. He then desired Madame de' Ne- 
* ' mours 


sbOjuis to ipfbnn her Majesty^ that, cpmiiig in so 
gfCBit ^ hurry^ he was without a bed^ and waited 
ip know whether he might flatter himself with 
Ae honour of taking part of hers* Madame 
de Nemoui^ having delivered this truly elegarnf; 
message, she returned to the King, and informe4 
hun» tt^jt, tjbfe Clineen desired to have it knpwn^ 
that she ca^ae to obey his cpmmands^ and shew 
vpw all ^and every oocftsion that she was his^pbe^ 
0i^nt servant. 

I^haU Qn}y remark here, that in matters of delif- 
Cftt6iadklre^^jthe people of FVanqe tj^e^i were ^up^ 
riot to all the world ; the wit of man could not 
have contrived a more iflatteriog message to a lady» 
who, though his ^ife, was ^ str^ger, and whose 
Jieart 5^as agitated by a tho\iS|a;n.4 ^is as ;i^eU 
si§ hof!^ I ^ofiw ihpt any siti^tion so de- 
llpate as t]^at of a sensible woman vinder such 
IJce.Wlistani:es : she was m^rried^ it is true^^biit 
iQ m lunbassador^ 

J ■ I i ' W ho beds the Queen^ 
With the nice caution of a mpt^ ]>et^^. 



By Mr^ Long. 

SOME years ago the Shawano Indians being 
iohliged to remove from their habitations, in their 

V 2 way 

29^ CiNABlAN iKDIAirS. 

way took a Muskabge warrior^ known by the 
name of Old Scrany^ prisoner ; they bastinadoed 
him severely^ and condemned him to the fiery 
torture. He underwent a great deal without 
shewing any concern ; his countenance and be- 
baTiour were as if he suffered not the least pain. 
He told his persecutors^ with a bold voice, that 
he was a warrior ; that he had gained the most 
of his martial reputation at the expense of their 
nation ; and was so desirous of shewing themf 
in the act of dying, that he was still as much 
their superior, as when he headed his gallant 
countrymen against them, that although he had 
feUen into their hands, and forfeited the pf otec-*^ 
^ion of the Divine Power, by some impurity or 
other, when carrying the holy ark of war a^inst 
his devoted enemies, yet he had so much re- 
maining virtue as would enable him to punish 
himself more exquisitely, than all their despicable 
ignorant crowd possibly could; and that he 
would do so, if they gave him liberty by untying 
him, and handing him one of the red-hot gun- 
barrels out of the fire. The proposal, and his 
method of address, appeared so exceedingly bold 
and Uncommon, that his request was granted. 
Then suddenly seizing the red-hot barrel, and 
brandishing it from side to side, he forced his 
way through the armed and surprised multitude^ 
leaped down a prodigiously steep and high bank 



into 8 bra<fech of the river, div^ through it/iaa 
over a smalL island, and passed the other branch, 
amidst a shower of bullets ; and though num- 
bers of his enemies were in dose pursuit of him, 
he got into a bramble swamp, through .which, 
though naked, and in a mangled condition, he 
jreacbed his own country. , 

The Shawano Indians also captured a warrior 
of the Anantoocah nation, and put him to the 
stake, according to their usual cruel solemnities. 
Having unconcernedly suffered much torture, he 
told them, with scorn, they did not know how 
to punish a noted enemy ; and therefore he was 
willing to teach them, and would confirm the 
truth of his assertion, if they attowed him the 
opportunity. Accordingly he requested of tfaenk 
a pipe and some tobacco, which was given him ; 
as soon as he had lighted it, he sat down^ naked 
as he was, on the women's burning torches, that 
were within his drcle, and continued smoking his 
pipe without the least discomposure. On this, ia 
head warrior leaped up, and said, they saw plain 
enough he was a warrior, and not afraid of dy- 
ing, nor should he have died, only that he was 
both spoiled by the fire, and devoted to it by 
their laws ; however, though he was a very dan- 
gerous enemy, and his nation a treacherous peo- 
ple, it should be seen that they paid a regard to 
bravery, even in one who was mark d with 
V 3 war- 

294 ttOftDint BYScDtSKM. 

wflr-itreakiai the iiost ormafiy of tte liVcs oif 
their beloved kindnsdj: knA tfatttt, by Wfty of fy^ 
votsf^ be, With -his friendly tomkhawkj itistantly 
put ati end to all his pains. Thtfujgh the met^ 
ciful bat bloody iMtmenent Wte rdiidy soihe M-- 
imtc)3 before it gave the blowj yet t wa* ^ssnted, 
the spectators could not perOeitci' the sufFerer 16. 
change either his posture or hid steadiness of 
counfetianc^ iri fhe leAst. 

MUJUJER pis^oyii^ 

IN tha yeaf 1 68^,.. there. lived iii Paris a 
motad^n of; fashion^: odUed Lady MaxeL Her 
booae wa^. larger acid three istoriesr^high* ■ in a 
isms^U rooniy partitioned off frOfd the hall^ sl^ 
the valet de chambre^ Whose name was Le Brun. 
In tha floor up one pair of stairs, ^^a&tbe lady^s 
4>Vftk chamber, which was in the frodit of the 
lK>q«a The^ki^y of this chambdr was usually 
iaken out of the door, and laid on a chair, by 
the servant who was last With fhe kdy ; who, 
pulling the door after her, it shut with a spring 
so that it could not be opened from witbotft. 
On, the second floor dept the Abbi Poulard. 
On the 27 th of November, being Sunday, Le 
JRrun, the valct;^ attended bia lady to church, 


thea went to another li^mself^ ^nd afi,c( suppin^g 
with a friendj went, ^oo^ chQE;^ful^ ..^ he 'ha4 
been all the aflernooai , ? . 
, Lady Mazel cupped ^ith the Abb6 Poulard 
as usual^ and about eleven p'cloqk went to hec 
ch^mb^^ where she wa^ attended by her maids f 
and, before they kft her, Le Brun^ catqe to th^ 
|io9r; aft^ which one of the pnaj,ds.laid the kcj 
of the chamber door on the chair next it; thej 
then went out^ and Le Brun following them^ 
^hut the door after him. In the morning, he 
Went to market : he then went home, and trans- 
acted his customary business ; at nine o'clock 
he expressed great surprise, that his lady did not 
get up, as she usually rose at seven. He went 
to his wife's lodging) which was in the neigh- 
bourhood, and told her he was uneasy that his 
lady's bell had not ruBg4 He then went home 
again, and found the servants in great consterna* 
tion at hearing nothing of their lady ; and when 
one said, she feared she had been seized with an 
apoplexy, Le Brun said, ^^ It must be something 
worse ; my mind misgave me i for I found the 
8treet»door open last night, after all the iiamily 
were in bed.*' 

A smith being brought, the door was broke 

open ; and Le Brun, entering first, ran to the 

bed ; and, after calling several times, he drew 

back the curtains, and said, ^^ O ! my lady is mur- 

V 4 dered !" 


ckred !" He then ran to the wardrobe, and took 
tip the strong box ; which being heavy, he said^ , 
" She has not been robbed : how is this ?*' 

A surgeon then examined the body, which 
was covered with no less than fifty wounds. 
They found in the bed, which was full of blood, 
a scrap of a cravat of coarse lace, and a napkin 
made into a nightcap, which was bloody, ^nd 
had the family inark on it ; and, from the wounds 
on the lady's hands, it appeared she struggled 
bard with the murderer^ which obliged him to 
eut the muscles before he could disengage him- 

The key of the chamber was gone from the 
seat by the door ; but no marks of violence ap- 
peared on any of the doors, nor were there any 
signs of a robbfery, as a large sum of money j and 
all the lady's jewels, were found in the strong 

Le Brun being examined, said, that, after he 
left the maids on the stairs, he went down into the 
kitchen ; he laid his hat and the key of the street- 
door on the table, and sitting down by the fire 
to warm himself, he fell asleep ; that he slept^ as 
he thought, about an hour ; and going to lock 
the street-door, he found it open r and he locked 
it, and took the key of it to his chamber. 

On trying the bloody nightcap on Lc Brun's 
head^ it was found to fit him exactly; where- 


tipon he was committed to prison. Oh his trl^I, 
it seemed as if the lady was murdered by «>me 
person, who was let in by Lc Brun for that pur-* 
pose. None of the locks being forced^ and his 
own story of finding the street-door open^ were 
all interpreted as strong proofs of his guilt ; and 
that he had an accomplice was inferred, because 
part of the cravat found in the bed was dis- 
covered not to be like his ; but the maids de- 
posed they had washed such a cravat for one 
Berry, who had been a footman to the lady, and 
was turned away for robbing her. 

Le Brun in his behalf had nothing to oppose 
to these strong circumstances, but an uniformly 
good character, which he had maintained for 
nineteen years he had served his lady ; and that 
he was generally esteemed a good husband, a 
good father, and a good servant. It was there- 
fore resolved to put Irin}: to the torture, which was 
done with such severity, that he died the week 
after of the hurts he received, declaring his in- 
XKKence to the last. 

' About a month after, notice was sent from the 
provost of Sens, that a dealer in horses had lately 
set up there, by the name of John Garlet, but 
his true name was found to be Berry, and that 
he had been a fo :tman at Paris, In consequence 
of this, he was taken up. On searching him, a 
gold watch was found on him, which proved to 


1^9 MCrR0&R DISCavlERBH/ 

be Lady Mazers. Being brought to Paris, a per- 
son swore to seeing him go out of Lady MazeVs^ 
(he night stiC was killed ; and a barber swore to 
shaving him the ne^t morning. On observing 
his hands very much scratchcxi^ Berry said, he 
had been killing a cat. 

On these circumstances he was condemi^d to 
be j>utto the torture. CNa being tortured, he con- 
fessed, he, and Le Bran, bad undertaken to rob 
niid to murder Lady Mazel ; biif tirhcn he was 
brought ko the t)lsco' of execution, confessed tbMt 
he came to Paris ou Wednesdiiy before the mury- 
der was committed, and the Friday evening he 
went into the house unperceived, got into one of 
the lofts^ where he lAy until Sunday morning, sub- 
mstixig on apples and bread he had in his pockets ; 
(iiat about eleven o*clock on Sunday mornings 
when he knew the lady was gone to mass, he 
stole down to her chamber, and the dqor being 
open got under the bed, where he continued uil^ 
til the afternoon, when Lady Mazel went to 
church; that, knowing she would not come 
back soon, he got from under the bed, and 
made a cap of a napkin, which lay in a chair, 
and then fat down by the fire, until he heard the 
coach drive into the coUrt-yard, when he again got 
under the b^d, and remained there : that Lady 
M^zel having been in bed about an hour, he > 
got from under it, and demanded her money : 



that she began to cry out^ and aitempted to 
ting; upon which he stiabbed her; andtfasrt she 
resisting with all her strength, he repeated his 
itabs until she was dead : that he. then took 
the key of the wardrobe cupboard froila the bed*$ 
head, opened this cupboard, found the key. of 
the strong box, opened it, and took all the gold 
be could find ; that he then locked the cupboard^ 
and replaced the key at the bed's head^ t6ok his 
hat from under the bed, and left theo^pkiU; i^ 
it : took the key of the chamber out of the chair^ 
and let himself out ; and finding the street«door 
only on the single lock, he opened it, went out, 
and left it open. ... ^■ 

Thus was the veil removed from the deed of 
darkness » and all the circumstances which con- 
demned Le Brun, were accounted for consistently 
with his innocence. 

From the whole story, the reader will perceive 
how fallible human reason is ; and the humane 
will agree, that, in such oases, even improbabilities 
ought to be admitted, rather than a man should 
be condemned, who may possibly be innocent. 

GUY Earl of Warwick, returning from the 
Holy Land^ in the habit of a pilgrim^ at a time 
, : when 



when Alhelfit^n. one of the; Saxon monarcbar^ 
was io great distress for a champion to fight 
Colobrandy a monstrous Danish giant^ who^ in 
liehalf g( the Danes» had challenged any person 
the English should bring into tlie field ; Guy 
accepted this challenge ; and> without being 
luiown to any but the King, fought the giant 
near Winchester, and killed him; the Danes 
yielded the victory, while Guy returned privately 
to a hermit's cell n^r Warwick, and there ended 
Ms days. 

See Speed's Britannia, pag. 5J. Dugdale's 
Warwickshire; Stow, hook iii. p. 193. Camden, 
p. 286, Echard's History of England, p. 36^ 
Markham^ p. 400. Pennant^s London, p. 3x4. 



AVERSE from all abstruse meditation, the 
American Indians are much delighted with songs» 
To an European ear these songs do not afford 
Hiuch entertainment ; nor can such discern har- 
mony, melody, or any variety in their tunes. 
However this may bo, the savages are always de- 
lighted with music. Their songs are of a grave 


4nd serious turn. They never relate to the con* 
cerns of love, or any of the softer passions^ bot 
to their most serious employments. They have 
4S0ngs for war, songs for victory, and songs for 
death* Each of them is designed to excite and 
call (prth the sentiments, feelings, and Jiassions, 
that such bccasions reqiiire; and they have a 
great influence on their feelings and actions. 
Amidst the severest sufferings of death, this is 
the resort of the savage ; and, when burning at 
the stake, the last consolation is to sing the song 
of triumph and death. 

Dancing has been the favourite amusement of 
all nations. In civilized society this amusement 
is designed to promote a refinement of manners ; 
and serves to excite the sensibility and delicacy^ 
which attaches and refines the sexes. Dancing 
is also the favourite amusement of the savage^ 
In every part of the globe. It calls forth his ac- 
tive powers, which, when unemployed, languish 
end decay for want of exercise. Dancing, instead 
of being an amusement, an affair of gallantry^ 
love^ or refinement among the savages^ is a cc^ 
remony of great importance and «eriousiiess« 
With this ceremony war is declared, an ambas* 
sador is received, and peace is concluded, tt is 
by a dance, that every important transaction in 



public or in iiriyate life i$ celebrated. Tbeit* 
dMces are generally carried on by the men^ a^d 
k b but seldoai that the women are perpiitted to 
join in them. All the steps, figures^ and mor 
tions of the dance are expresisive, aad signifjicant 
of the business or transaction it is designed to 
^omote. If war is to be proclaimed, the dance 
18 expressive of the resentment and rage they 
bear to their enemies, and of the hostile mannar 
in which they mean to treat them. If a party 
are going forth against the .enemy, the dance of 
war is the prelude. In this, the transactipps of 
the whole campaign are to be expressed. The 
warriors are represented as departing from their 
country, entering that of the >cnemy, surprising 
and conquering their foes, seizing prisc^ers, 
scalping the deaid, aad returning in triuio^h to 
the applailise of tlicir country. The performers 
appear to be agitated with all the natural pa8>- 
mons diat take place in any of tiiese scenes. 
The cautions, the secrecy, the fierceness^ and 
cruelty of the warriors, are rqpresented in a n^^ 
tural and animated manner. The (whdie is de«- 
signed to excite those passions and feelings hi 
4he warrior, which it is intended to represent, 
^nd »» q[viick, exact, and .dreadful is the reprer- 
iOeidation, that the uninformed spectator is ^tnid: 
.'wifh hCKcror, and looks to see the ground strewed 
with maogled limbs and slaughtered bodies. 
^ If 


Ifpeape is made^ this is also iT[)resetited by a 
dance ; the dan(:e is adapted to signify, that the 
hatched is^ buried, that the bloocj is ^U washed 
away, that th^ ghosts of tjb? slaiq are appeas- 
ed and at rest« ajid that both n^tiOQS^ #e now 
to live ia all the friendship and fiimiKarity of 
brotherhood. Thus, initead of bding basely an 
amusement or dirersion, dancing amoog (he In- 
dians is a very important and fieri6u$ ceremony. 



HERE ii^tbf to dige&t, macerate, a];id amalgamate 

with clay, 

in Ijalni^ arensPf 

-"> ' • Mratttin 3uper stratum, 

the^ i^^uQQi'i terra damnata, and cscput mortuum, 

of BOYLE GODFREY, Chymist, 

and M.D. 

a man, who in this earthly, laboratory, 

pursued various processes to obtain 

arcanum vitse, 

or the art of getting) rathpr th.^ piaking gold* 


all his labour and projection, 

AS mercury in the firfe, evaporated*in fume. 

^When he dissolved to his first^ principles, 

he departed as poor . 


|04 BflTAtm. 

ftft the last dropd of an alembic $ 

for riches are not poured * 

on adepts of this world. 

Though fond of news^ he carefully avoided 

the fermentation^ effervescence^ 

and decripitation of this life. 

Full seventy years his exalted essence 

vas herdietically sealed in its terrene matrass; 

but the radical moisture being eich^sted^ 

the elixir vitaet spent, 

and exsiccated to a cuticle, 

be could not suspend longer in his vehicle, 

but precipitated gr^atim, 

per campanam, 

to his original dust. 

May that light, brighter than Bolognian phosphorus, 

preserve him from the athanor, empyreuma, and 

reverberatory furnace of the other world ; 

depurate him from the faeces and scoria of this, 

highly rectify and volatilize 

his astherea! spirit, 

bring it over the heln^i of the retort of this globe, 

place it in a proper recipient, 

or crystalline orb, 

among the elect of the flowers of Benjamin, 

never tp be saturated, 

till the general resuscitatioxi^ 

deflagration, calcination, 
and sublimation of all things* 


( 305 ) 



HERE lies^ in an horizontal posititon, 
the ^ outside case' of 
* Peter Pendulum^ walch-maker,' 
whpse abilities in that line were an hondUr 
to- his profession ; * ' 
integrity was tbe^ main springy' 
and prudence the ^ regulator^ 
of all the actions of liis life. * 
Humane, generous, and liberal, 
his hand never stopped 
till he had relieved distress. 
-' So nicely regulated were all his ^ motions,' 
'":'' that he never went wrong, 

except when set a*going 
by people 
. . ; . who did not know 
; . , .'his key — * 

Even then, he was easily 

' set right* again. 

He had the art of disposing his time so well, 

that his ' hours' glided away 

' in one continued round' 

of pleasure and delight, 

till an unlucky * minute' putting 

a period to his existence, 
he departed this life, ' wound up,' 
in hopes of being ' taken in hand' 
TOt. I. X by 

3o6 jiPiTAi>ns, 

by his ^ Maker/ 
and of being thoroughly ^ cleaned, repaired/ 
004 * fief a-going* , 
in the world to come. 


f ^ " 


7» /A^ Churchyard pf Grwmimgham^ in the County 
(^ Norfolk. 

SACRED to .(be ipeniory of 'jTUoipas Jackson*, 
Comedian, whft was engaged, t>ecember ai, 
1 741, to play 4 cdinic cast 9f characters, in this 
great theatre, t^. yvprld, for jpp^^ny o{ which 
he wag preiopted bjr aajture to ^xceU The sea- 
son being eH^d, his benefit over, the charges 
all paid> and hts account closed, he made his exit 
in the tragedy of Death on the 17th of March 
1 798, in full assurance of being called once more 
to rehearsal ; where he hopes to fipd his forfeits 
all cleared, his cast of parts bettered, and his si- 
tuation made ^^greeable by EUm who jpaid the great 
stock debt, foe the lovp he l>or<^ tP performers in 

♦ Thb pcrfojrtu^ tejopgcd to the Norwich company of 
comedians ; and in 17779 and two or three seasons after, wi> 
engaged by ]V(r. Colman, at the Haymarket iTbcatrf • 


( 307 ) 


'Lafeiy'W^iff'^W ffofitg)^ Dvaon Church in €um- 

IffiRE He tb^ 'bbdics 
of Thomas Boti4| and Mary his wife. 
She v^^ temperate, ofaaste^ and charitable; 


she wlis proud, peevish, and pas^nate. 
She w^s an affectionate wife, and a tender motfieri 

her husband aiid daSidr, whom she loved, 

^ddoniL tow her coohtentoce wttbout a disgoitifi^ 


whilst she received vish6rs, wiiom istbe d^pt^, wkb 

an endearing smile; 

Her behaviour was discieet towards strangers; 


imprudent in her family. 
Abroad, her conduct was influenced by gqod breeding | 


at home, by ill temper. 
She was a professed enemy to flattery. 
And was iseldom known to pit^ or dbmiutnd ; 

the talents in which she j^lhdpaUy ftxcelled^ 
were difference of opinioH> and diiK:6viiHn|; 8iw# koA 
Hnpcneetion s t 

X 2 She 



She was an admirable economist^ 
and, without prodigality, 
. 4i$pcnsed plenty, to evjery person ia her family } 


would sacrifke thefit ^ye^ to a farthing candle. 

She spmetimes made, her husband happy^^^wth her good 



much more frequently miserable-r-wjlli her many 

failing; - • i • 

insomuch^ that in thirty years, cohabitation, he often 


. . that,. '??fug'^ all her virtuesj ; 

he had not, in the wbple, enjoyed 4iWo years of 

matrimonial jcomfort. 

. '^ AT L^NGTH^ . ', , / ... • 

fading she ha^ lost the affections of hejr husband, 

as well as the regard of her neighbours, 
family disputes having, been divulged by servants, . 
she died of vexation, July 20, 1768, 
: :. aj^d 48 years. 

Her worn-out husband survived her four months and 
; two days, , . 

and departed this life, Nov. 28, 1768» 
in the 54th year of his age. 
William Bond, brother to the deceased, erected this 
; Stone, 
as a weekly monUor to the surviving v^ives of this 
that they m^y avoid the infamy 
<)f having their memories handed down to posterity 
with a patch-work character. 


( 3<>9 ) 


MR. Raspe* presents his compliments to 

M. M , and is sorry he cannot give him anjr 

satisfactory account of the most conspicuous cha- 
racters amongst the illuminates. They started 
since he left Germany ^ not only as he mentioned 
yesterday, from the barbarity of Bavaria, but also 
from the ashes of the Jesuits, and a very nume- 
rous sect of fanatic freemasons, of which there is 
a wonderful variety in Germany. The sect or 
breed of whom we are speaking, pretended to- 
great: knowledge indeed, no less than conjuring 
up ghosts and spirits, and performing miracles, 
'which they played off as credentials of their su- 
perior wisdom. Their great prophet was an im- 
postor, of the name of Schroepfer, who, being 
pushed hard by his- creditors, and the incredulity 
of disciples, finished his farce at Leipzig, by 
blowing out his brains. It was chiefly in. 
Saxony that he met with success, and that necro- 
mancy was treated in a serious manner; but the 
evil spread, and (wonderful to say !) found pow- 
erful and numerous supporters at Paris. Upon 
this foundation Cagliostro built his system of im- 
position ; and if he had not been detected, he 
might have carried it on in England on the basis 

* The mineralogist. 

X3 of 


of the Swedenborgians^ a kind of simpletons, 
v^ho have of late translated and adopted the 
erazy yisions of a Swedish gentleman of that 
name^ who died iri Lpiidon sdme y^ars since^ 
Lavatet does not appear formally to belong titl^et 
tor the illuminates of the Swedenbor^i^ns, sed 
/ligfms intrare in sttdto isio coff&re^ for his genius 
borders but too much upon fanaticism. 

Svvedenborg ciruld not possibly be the pro- 
j^het of the Duke of Courland : they never met ; 
bttt a connexion may be traced between tht^ 
crazy Duke and one Mr. Sunderberg^ who is r^r 
ther partial to the respective tenets and follies of 
freemasonry, illumin^te^y conjurors^ ^cbymi9t% 
and Swedexiboi^ans. 


A MANUSCRIPT of a most ancient date it. 
BOW in the possession of thp Emperor of Mo^ 
rocco, describing the people pf the province of 
Sudan in South Barhary. Their features, cpm<^ 
plexioq^^ and language, diiF(pr tqtally from any 
other people on that contineqt 

Although this manuscript is old^ it corre*- 
aponds exactly with the chara(;t^r ^f tl^^ present 
inhabitlints of that country. 

MR. , WUITFI £LP. 511 

It rdates^ that a part of these people being 
once oppressed by their prince^ crossed the Me- 
diterranean into Spain; from thence they tra- 
velled norths and found means to provide ves- 
sels from those shores, in which they embarked, 
and landed in a mountainous part of some of the 
British isles. At this present moment, the peo* 
pie of Sudan alwa)'» speak their own language 
(unless in their intercourse with the Moors), and 
this language has a great affinity with the )n^ 
and Welsh dialects* 

They are red-haired, frecUed, and, in all re- 
spects, a stronger bodied, and more enterprising 
people than the Moors. 

Mrs. LfOgiet the consurs wife^ was a native pf 
Wales, and informed Maj^ Tisdal^ that she 
understood many words ^pctktB by thiese people, ^ 
0ad sometiikies short seiitediies^ 

.Delivered to me by^ajw Tisdal, wiio re- 
ceived it from Captain Logic, the English consul 
at Morocco. 

' John Ih^chins^ Af . P. 

ii II ' -I 


MR. Wbitfield*s eloquence was of a peculiar 

cast, and well adapted to his auditory, as bis 

X4 figure^ 


figures were drawn from sources within the reach 
of their understanding, and frequently from the 
circumstances of the moment. The application 
was often very happy, and sometimes rose to the 
true sublime ; for he was a man of warm ima« 
gination, and not wholly devoid of ^aste. On 
his first visit to Scotland, he was received in 
Edinburgh with a kind of frantic joy, by a large 
body of the citizens. An unhappy man^ who 
had forfeited his life to the offended laws of his 
country, was to be executed the day after his ar- 
rival. Mr. Whitfield mingled in the throng, 
and seemed highly pleased with the solemnity 
and decorum with whidi the most awful sceqe 
in human nature was conducted. His appear-p 
ance, however, drew the eyes of all around him, 
and raised a variety of opinions as to the motives 
which led him to join in the crowd. The next 
day, being Sunday, he' preached to a large body 
^f men, women, and children, in a field near 
the city; In the course of his sermon, he ad-* 
* Verted to the execution which had taken place 
the preceding day. " I know," said he, " that 
many of you will find it difficult to reconcile my 
appearance yesterday with my character. Many 
of you, I know, will say, th»t my moments 
would have been better employed in praying 
for the unhappy man, than in attending him to 
the fatal trec;^ and that, perhaps, curiosity was 
■^ the 


the only cause that converted me into a specta- 
tor on that occasion ; but those who ascribe.that 
uticharitable motive to me are undef a mistake. 
I witnessed the conduct of almost every one pre- 
sent on that awful occasion, and I was highly 
pleased therewith. It has given nae a very fa- 
vourable impression of the Scottish nation. Your 
syrtipathy was visible on your countenance, and 
reflected the greatest credit on your hearts^ 
particularly when the moment arrived that your 
imhappy fellow- creature was to close his eyes on 
this world for ever, you all, as if moved by 
one impulse, turned your heads aside, and wept. 
Those tears were precious, and will be held ia 
remembrance. How different was this, when 
the Saviour of mankind was extended on the 
crofs-^the Jews, instead of sympathizing in 
'his sorrows, triumphed in them. They reviled 
him with bitter exprjcssions, with words even 
more bitter than the gall and vinegar which they 
handed him to drink; not one of all that wit- 
nessed his pains, turned the head aside, even in 
the last pang. Yes, there was one, that glorious 
luminary (pointing to the sun) veiled his bright 
face, and sailed on in tenfold ilight.'* 


( 314 ) 


IN the* year 1787 there happened to be a dif- 
ference between the Dutch factory and the Hot- 
tentots> the natives of the Cape, One of the 
former^ being up in the country, was killed by 
one of the Hottentots ; whereupon the chief or 
lieads of the people were summoned to find out 
the offender^ and bring him to the Bar of Trade, 
and there punish him, according to their man- 
ner, for so great a crime : this was carried into 
execution in the subsequent singular manner. 
^The Hottentots made a great fire» and brought 
the criminal, attended by all his friends and tdsh 
tions, who took their leave of him, not in sor- 
rowful lamentations, but in feasting, d9ncing, 
and drinking: when the unfortunate criminal 
had been plentifully supplied with liquor, so 
that he was insensibly drunk, his friends made 
him dance till he was quite spent with fatigue; 
in that state they threw him into the iire, and 
concluded the horrid scene with a hideous 
how], which thejr set up immediately after the 
criminal was dispatched^ Some time after this, 
one of the factory killed a Hottentot ; upon 
which the great men came and demanded jus- 
jtice for the blood of th^ir countryman; hut the 



r offender happened to be one of ihe best account- 
ants, and a person whom the factory could ill 
spare. However, th« crafty Dutchmen devised 
means to render satisfaction to the natives, under 
a Colour of justice, by the following «oheme : 
th«y appointed; a day for the execution of the 
murderer, when the Hottentots assembled in great 
numbers to view this imposition upon theq>. 

Jl scaffold was erected, and the criminal wat 
brought forth, dressed in white, attended by a 
mitiister : after praying, &i«gipg psalms, &c. 
the mock executioner presented him a flaming 
draught, whicli the ignorant Hottentots supposed 
was to render an atonement for the loss of their 
deceased countryman^ The criminal received his 
potion, which was no other than a little burning 
brandy, with all the outward signs of. horror and 
^read ; his hand shook, his body trembled, and 
Jiis whole frame appeared in the most violent 
agitation : he at last» with seeming reluctance, 
swallowed the draught, and, after preserving the 
farce of trenxbling, &c. a few moments^ fell 
down apparently dead, and a blanket was im- 
mediately thrown over him. The Hottentots 
then made a shout that rent the air, and retired 
perfectly^ pleased, first observing, *«^ that the 
Iputch had been more severe than themselves ; 
for the former had put the fire into the criminal, 
^hey th^ erinr^inal ipto the fire,^ - 


( 3iS ) 

John Locke to Anthony Collins, Esj. 

OattSyOct. 29, 03. 

BELIEVE roe, my good friend, to love truth 
for truth^s sake is the principal part of hu- 
man perfection in this world, and the seed-plot 
of all other virtues ; and, if I mistake not, you 
have as much of it as any body : what then is 
there wanting to make you equal to the best, and 
a friend for any one to be proud of? Would 
you have me take upon me, because I have the 
start of you in the number of years, to be super- 
cilious and conceited, for having in a long ram- 
ble, travelled some countries, which a young 
voyager has not yet had time to see, and from 
whence one may be sure he will bring larger 
collections of solid knowledge ? In good ear- 
nest. Sir, when I consider how much of my life 
has been trifled away in beaten tracks, where I 
vamped on with others only to follow those that 
went before us, I cannot but think I have just as 
much reason to be proud, as if I had travelled 
all England, and, if you will, France too, only 
to acquaint myself with the roadsi and to 
be able to tell how the highways lie, wherein 
those of equipage, and even the herd too^ 



travel. JVbw, methinks (and these are often old 
inen^s dreams), I $ee openings to truths and direct 
paths leading to it^ wherein a little industry and 
application would settle one's inind with satis^ 
faction, and leave no darkness or doubt even 
with the most scrupulous. But this is at the 
end of my day, when my sun is setting ; and 
though the prospect it has given me be what I 
would not for any thing be without, there is so 
much irresistible truth, beauty, and consistency 
ip. it, yet it is for one of your age to set about 
it, as a work ypu would put in order, and oblige' 
the world with. 

17 Nov. 03.'* 
But to set it upon the right ground, you must 
know that I am a poor ignorant man, and iif I 
have any thing to boast of, it is that I isincerely 
love and seek truth, with indifferency whom it 
pleases or displeases. 

1 thank you for the books you have sent me. 
They a^e more I think than I shall use, for the 
indisposition of my health has beaten me almost 
quite out of the use of books, and the growing 
uneasiness of my distemper * makes me good for 

J. Locks. 

* Asthrua. ^ ^ - 


( 3«8 ) 

tm PARTICUUVRS of the PH^ST SlEjSE ot 

iCaUanih defended by the Lady Banks and Captaiii 
Ldwrencej against the Powers, Plots , attd Pkli* 
ties of Sir fVa/ier Earle, and %is Adherents. 

WHEN the torch of civil discord is once kin* 
dJed, it is not in the power of human fore«i^t to 
calculate the dire result, e^cciaHy if fantied by 
tlic breath of religious 2eal ; even the very mo-^ 
numents which the living have raised to the dead 
—even those memorials of our affection that pro- 
mised to outlive the silent touches of time, gre 
wrapt in the general blaze, and the few good niea 
that escape the flames can only deplore what is 
piast, and deprecate the return of such days. The 
barbarous outrages committed dqriiig the civil 
war in this country, will be found, perhaps, jnpre 
(ully detailed in a scarce work entitled, Merm* 
rius Rusticus, than in any other. This publica- 
tion was written by Bruno Ryves, Dean of 
Chidbester, and after the restoration. Dean of 
Windsor and Wolverhampton, in the reigns of 
Charles I. and II. He died on the 23d of July 
1677, in the 8ist year of bis age. For a more 
particular account of this writer, see Wood's 
Athense Oxonienses, A. D. 1721^ vol. ii. p. 584> 
73Z. I , Newcourt> 

8ft<Ti OP COliFK CASTtt* $1^ 

KcWcourtV Repcrtorium, A. D. 1708, toLL 
p,4a3, 424, note(i). 

Pbte's History of Windsor, A. D. 1749, p. 

* Appendix to the Lifisj of Dr. Barwick, A.D. 

1724, p- 495, liote(x). ' 

Otaamcnts of Churches considered, 4to. A. D*. 
ij^'i, p. 117, tafote (w) J also Appendix to that 
ttiict, No. VLpiS. ^ 

'Thic iirit editibil of tht Mercurhts 'RuOimi 
attpeared \n t646 ; a second in 1647. '^^^ 'f^^" 
Idiving account is copied from the first. 

.. Thbre is in the Isle of Purbeck a strong cas- 
tle, called Corfe Castle, seated on a very steep. 
' bin, in the fracture of a hill, in the very midst oi 
it, being eight miles in lengthy runmng from the 
^ast end of the peninsula^ to the west: and 
though it stand between the two ends of this fmc« 
twe, 60 that it may seem to lose much advant^^ 
of Us natural andartificial strength as commanded 
frovi thence,, being in height equal to, if not oyer*^ 
looking the tops of the highest towers of the casr 
tie ; yet the structure of the castle is so strongs 
the aspont so steep, the walls so massy and thick, 
that it is one of the most impregnable fortsiof the 
kingdom, and of veiy great concernment in re- 
spect of its command over the island, and the 
|dape$ about it. This castle is now the posses- 
sion and inheritance of the Right Honourable 
$ir John Bahk^, Chief Justice of the Common 


Pleas, and one of his Majesty's most Honourable 
Rrivy Council, who, receiving commands fronv 
the King to attend him at York, in Easter term, 
1642, had leave from the two Houses to obey 
those commands. After the unhappy differences 
between the King and the two Houses, or rather 
between the King and the faqtion in both 
Houses, grew hlgb,it being generally feared that 
the sword would decide the controversy, tGfe 
Lady Banks, a virtuous and prudent lady, rb- 
solved, with her childreu and family, to retire to 
this castle, there to shelter themselves from llie 
storm which she saw coming, which accordingly 
she did. There she and her family remained in 
j^ace all the'tvinter^'attd a great^art of the spring,* 
until 1643, about which time the rebels, linder 
the command of Sir Walter Earlc, Sir Thomas 
Trenchard, and others, had possessed themselves 
of Dorchester, Lyme, Melcombe,' Weymouth; 
Wareham, and Pool (Portland Castle being 
treacherously delivered to the rebels), only Corfc 
Castle remaining in obedience to the King : 4nrf 
the rebels, knowing how much it concerned them 
to add this castle to their other garrisons, to make 
all the sea-coast wholly for them, and thinking 
it more feasible to gain it by treachery than open 
hostility, resolved to lay hold on an opportunity, 
to see if they could become masters of it. ' " 

There is an ancient usage that the Major and 
Barons (as they call them) of Cqrfe Castle^ ac» 



cotnpanied by the gentry of the islanci, h^ve per- 
taission fro/n the lord of the Casllc, on May-day^ 
fo course a stag, which evefy yeat is perfofraed 
with much solemnity, and gteat concoufse of 
people. On this day Some troops of hotse froiii 
Dorchester, and other places, came into this 
island, intending to find othef game than to hunt 
the stag, their business being suddenly to surprise 
the gentlemen in the hunting, and to take the 
castle. The news of their coming dispersed the 
hunters, and spoiled the sport for that day, an4 
made the Lady Banks to give order for the safe 
custody of the castle gates, and to keep them 
shut against all comers. The troopers having 
missed their prey on the hills (the gentleirCtt 
having withdrawn themselves), some of themi 
came to the castle under a pretence to see it, but 
entrance being denied them, the common soldier? 
used threatening language, casting out words im- 
plying some intention to take the castle ; but' the 
commanders, who better knew hovy to conceal 
their resolutions, utterly disavowed any such 
thought, denying that they had any such commis- 
sion ; however, the Lady Banks very wisely, and 
like herself, hence took occasion to call in a 
guard ta assist her, not knovving how soon she 
might have occasion to make use of them, it be- 
ing now more than probable that the rebels had 
a design upon the castle. The taking in this 
guard, as it secured her at home, so it rendered 
voii. 1. Y her 


hjcr sjjspected abroad : from thenceforward there 
was a watchful and vigilant eye to survey all 
lier actions ; >yhat^oever she sends out, or send$ 
for in^ is suspected ; her ordinary provisions for 
ber family are by fame multiplied, and reported 
to be more than double what indeed they were, 
95 if she had now an intention to victual and 
man the castle against the forces of the two 
bouses of parliament. Presently, letters are sent 
from th^ committees of Poole to demand the four 
small pieces in the castle, and the pretence was, 
because the islanders conceived strange jealousiea 
that the pieces were mounted and put on their 
carriages. Hereupon the Lady Banks dispatched 
fljessengers to Dorchester and Poole, to entreat 
the commissioners that the small pieces might re- 
main in the castle for her own defence ; and to 
take away the ground of the islanders' jealousies, 
she caused the pieces to be taken off their car- 
riages again ; hereupon a promise made, that 
they should be left to her possession.^ But there 
passed not many days, before forty seamen (they 
in the castle not suspecting any such thing) came 
very early in the morning to demand' the pieces i 
the Lady in person, early as it was, goes to the 
gates, and desires to see their warrant ; they pro- 
duced one, under the hands of some of the com- 
missioners; but instead of delivering them, 
though at that time there were but five men in 
the castle, yet these five, assisted by the maid-ser^ 
I xaijts. 

Vants, at their Llady's command, mount tbes^ 
pieces on their carriages again, and lading one of 
them, they gave fire, which small th'under so af- 
frighted the seamen, that they all quitted thift 
place and ran away. They being gone> by beat 
of drum she summons help into the castle, and 
tipon the alarm given, a very considerable gaard 
of tenants and friends came in to her assistance, 
there being withal s6me fifty arms brought into 
the castle from several parts of the island. This 
guard was kept in the castle about a week : during 
this time, many threatening letters were sent 
unto the Lady, telling her what great forces 
should be sent to fetch them, if she would not 
by fair means be persuaded to deliver them ; and 
to deprive her of auxiliaries, all or most of thent 
being neighbours thereabputs, they threaten, that 
if they oppose the delivery of them, they would 
fire their houses. Presently their wivcs'come to the 
castle; there they weep and wring their hands, and 
with clamorous oratory persuade their husbands to 
come home, and not by saving others to expose 
Iheir own houses to spoil and ruin ; nay, to reduce 
the castle into a distressed condition, they did not 
only intercept two hundred weight of powder, 
provided against a siege, but they interdict them 
the liberty of common markets. Proclama- « 
tion is made at Wareham (a market-town hard 
by), that no beer^ beef, or other jgrovision should 

Ya be- 

3:14 SlEGE OP dORP£ CASTL«. 

be sold to the Lady Banks, or for her use; strict 
watches are kept, that no messenger or intelli- 
gence shall pass into, or out of, the castle. Being 
thus distressed, all means of victualling the castle 
being taken away, and being but slenderly fur-, 
nished for a siege, either with ammunition or 
with victual, at last they came to a treaty of 
composition, of which the resulf was, that the 
Lady Banks should deliver up those four small 
pieces, the biggest not carrying above a . three 
pound bullet, and that the rebels should permit 
her to enjoy the castle and arms in it, in peace 
and quietness. « 

And though this wise lady knew too well to 
rest satisfied or secured in these promises, their 
often breach of faith having sufficiently instructed 
her what she might expect from them, yet she 
was glad of this opportunity to strengthen herself 
by that means, by which many in the world 
thought she had done herself much prejudice; 
for the rebels being now possessed of their guns, 
presumed the castle to be theirs, as sure as i£ 
they had actually possessed it. Now it was no 
more but ask and have. Hereupon they grew re- 
miss in their watches, negligent in their observa-* 
tions, not heeding what w«s brought in, nor 
taking care, as before, to intercept supplies^ 
which might enable them to hold out against a 
•iege: and the Lady, making good use of this 



remissness, laid hold on the present opportunity, 
and, as much as the time would permit, furnished 
the castle with provisions of all sorts. In this 
interval, there was brought in an hundred and 
half of powder, and a quantity of match propor- 
tionable; and understanding that the King's 
forces, under the conduct of Prince Maurice 
and the Mafquiss Hertford, were advancing to-- 
warc^s Blandford, she, by her messenger, made 
her address to them, to signify unto them the 
present condition in which they were, the great 
consequence of the place, desiring their assist- 
ance, and in particular, that they would be 
pleased to take into their serious consideration, 
to send some commanders thither to take the 
charge of the castle. Hereupon tliey sent Captain 
Lawrence, son of Sir Edward Lawrence, a gen- 
tleman of that island, to command in chief; but 
be coming without a commission, could not 
comitaand monies or provisions to be brought in 
till it was too late. There was likewise in the 
castle one Captain Bond an old soldier, whom I 
should deprive of his due honour hot to mention 
him^ having a share in the honour of this resist- 
ance. ii^Thc first-time the rebels faced the castle, 
they brought a body of between two and ihi:ee 
hundred horse and foot, and two pieces of 
ordnance, and from the hills played on the cas- 
tle^ fired four houses in the tow.n^ and then sum* 

y 3 monod 


moned tbe castle; but receiving a denial ibr tbat 
time, they left it, but on the three*and-twentieth 
of Jtine, the sagacious knight, Sir Walter Earle, 
that hath the gift of discerning treasons, and 
might have made up his nine-and-thirty treasons, 
forty, by reckoning in his own, accompanied by 
Captain Sydenham, Captain Henry Jarvis, Cap- 
tain Skuts, son of arch-traitor Skuts of Poole, 
with a body of between five and six hun4red, 
came and possessed themselves of the town^ 
taking the opportunity of a misty morning, that 
they might find no resistance from the castle. 
They brought with them to the siege a demi-can-^ 
Don, a culverin, and two sacres ; With these,^ and 
their small shot, they played on the castle on ali 
quarters of it, with good observation of advaii>^ 
tages, making tlieir battery strongest where theyt 
thought the castle weakest ; and to bind the solt- 
diers by tie of conscience to an eager prosecutioa 
of the siege, they administer them an oatb^ and> 
mutually bind themselves to most unchri&tia» re-^ 
solutions, that if they found the defendants Hesi- 
tate not to yield, they would maintain the siege 
to victory, and then deny quarter unto all, kill* 
ing without mercy, men, women, and children* 
As to bring on their own soldiers, they abused 
them with falsehoods, telling them, that' tfte- 
castle stood rn a. level, yet with good advantagl^ 
of approach ; that there were but forty men m 



the castle, whereof twenty were for them; thdt 
there was rich booty, and the like : so, during 
the siege, they used all base unworthy means to 
corrupt the defendants to betray the castle into 
their hands : the better sort they endeavoured to 
corrupt with bribes ; to the rest they offer double 
pay, and the whole plunder of the castle. When 
all these arts took no effect, then they fall tp 
stratagem and engines. To make their ap^ 
proaches to the wdll with more safety^ they make 
two engines ; one they call the sow, the other 
the boar^ being made with boards, lined with 
wool to dead the shot. The first that moved 
forward waff the sow ; but not being muskci 
proof, she cast nine of eleven, of her farrows ; fot 
the musketiers from the castle were so' good 
marksmen at their legs, the only part of all theit 
bodies left without defence, thdt nine ran away, 
as well as their battered and broten legs would 
give them leave ; and of the two which knew 
neither how to run away, nor well to stay, for 
fear, one-was slain. The boar^ of thetwo (a man 
WOUI4 think) the valianter creature, seeing the 
ill success of the sow to cast her litter before her 
time, durst not advance. The most advahta^ 
ge6u«^ part for their batteries was the churchy 
which they, without fear of profanation, u$ed; 
not only as their rampart, but their r^ndeafvous: 
tfTthestirfdid^ they made- two shirts for two 

Y 4 soldiers; 


jjoldicrs ; they broke down the organs, and made 
the pipes serve for cases to hold their powder and 
shot; and not being furnished with musket bul- 
lets, they -cut oflf the lead of the church, and 
rolled it up, and shoot it without ever casting it 
in a mould* Sir Walter and the commander 
were earnest to press forward the soldiers ; but as 
prodigal as they were of the blood of their com- 
ipon soldiers, they were sparing enough of their 
^own. Jt was a general observation, that valiant 
^ir.JW'alter never willingly exposed himself to 
any hiaz^rd, for being by chance endangered with 
bullet^ shot through his coat, afterwards he put 
^n a bear's skin ; and to the.eteraal honour oC 
this Knight's valour be it recorded, for fear of 
musket shot (for other they had none), he was 
seen to creep on all four, on the sides of the hill, 
to keep himself out of danger. This base cow- 
ardice in the a^ailant added courage and resolu- 
tion to the defendants ; therefore not compelled 
by want, but rather to brave the rebels, they sal- 
lied out, and brought in eight cows and a bull 
into the castle, without the loss of a man, or a 
|T)an wounded. At another time, five boys fetched 
in four cows. They that stood on the hills, called 
to one in a house in the valley, crying, " Shoot^ 
Anthony;" but Anthony thought it good to 
slqep in a whole skin, and durst not look out, so 
that afterwards it grew into a^ proverbial jecTj 



from the defendants to the assailants; ^^ Shoot^ 
Anthony/' The rebel* having spent much time 
find, ammunition, and some men, and yet being 
^ as far from hopes of taking the caMe as the £rst 
day they came thither ; at last, the Earl of 
Warwick sends them a supply of an hundred and 
iifty mariners, with several cart-loads of petars, 
granadoes, and other warFike provisioor, with 
scaling-ladders, to assault the castle by sca]adol| 
They make large offers to him that shduld firait 
scale the wall ; twenty pounds to the first, and 
so, by descending sums, a reward to the twen- 
tieth ; but all this could not prevail with theso 
silly wretches, who were .brought thither, a| 
themselves confessed, like sheep to the slaughter^ 
some of them having but exchanged the manoir 
. of their death, the halter for the bullet; having 
taken them out of gaols. One of them beihg 
taken prisoner, had letters testimonial in bis hand 
whence he came; the letters, I mean, when he 
was burnt for a felon, being very visible to the 
I beholders ; but they found that persuasion could 
not prevail with such abject low-spirited men. 
The commanders resolve on another course, 
which was to make th^m drunk, knowing th»t 
drunkenness makes some men fight like Honi^ 
that Bfeing sober, would run away like hares. .To 
this purpose they filfthem "with strong waters, 
cv^ to madness, and ready they are now ftx ^f 

design : 


design; land for fear Sir Walter s&daM be va^ 
liant against his i^illi like Caesar be was the only 
snan almpst that came sober ta thfe assault:! an 
imitation of Ae Turkish. fTdclice; for cdrtaidily | 
there can be nothing of Chrtsttanity in it, tb 
send poor souls to Goda jupdgittent^seat,^ in the 
very act of two grievous sins^ rebeUixai dnd 
drunkenness; who to stupify thciv soldret^^ and 
IKike them insensible of their daHigtrH^ give them 
t^piuin. ^Being now: af med with^ drink^ >ti^ 
fesolve to storm the catrtle on^ alt sides, aiil^d^^ 
ply their scaling-ladders, k being oVden&d by 
the leaders (if I may without- soi^eism call thefii 
«o, that stobd behind, and did' not so. mtich- M 
folio w)> that when twenty were' ent^ried, they 
should give a watch-word to tHe^re&t, and thai 
was'Old Wati a word ill chosen by Sir "VS^att 
3Earle ; and, considering the bufeirtess in ba«d> 
little better than ominous ; for if I be not de- 
ceived, the hunters that beat bushes for the fear- 
ful, timorous hare, call him Old Watt. Being 
now pot- valiant, and possessed with a borrowed 
courage, which was to evaporate in sleep, they 
divide forces into two parties, whereof one as«- 
saults the middle ward^. defended by valiant 
Chptain Lawrence, and the greater part of the 
soldiers; the other assault the upper ward^ 
which the liady Banks (to her eternal honour bd 
itr:^Q]den)j with hcT daoghtet^^ woineii^ aiid^ Ate 



soldierly undertook to make good against the 
rebels, and did bravely perform what she under* 
took ; for by heaving over ston<5s^ and hot ctn- 
bers, they repelled the rebels, and kept them 
from climbing their ladders, thence to throw in 
that wild-fire, which every rebel- had ready in 
his hand. Being repelled, and having in this 
siege and this assault lost and hurt an hundred 
men, old Sir Watt, hearing that the King's forces 
were advanced, cried, and ran away crying, 
leaving Sydenham to command in chief, to bring 
off the ordnance, ammunition, and the remain- 
der of the army, who, afraid to ap[)ear abroad, 
l^ept sanctuary ip the church till night, meaning 
to sup; and run away by star-light: but supper 
being ready, and. set on the table, alarm was 
given that the King's forces were coming. This 
news took away Sydenham's stomach; all this 
provision was but messes of meat $et before the 
sepulchres of the dead. He leaves his artillery, 
ammunition, and (which with these men is some- 
thing) a gfod supper, and ran away to take jboat 
for Poole, leaving likewise at the shore about an. 
hundred horse to the next takers, which next 
day proved good prize to the soldiers of the cas- 
tle. Thus, after six weeks strict siege, this cas- 
tle, the desire of the rebels, the tears of old Sir 
Watt, and the key of those parts, by thc^ loyalty 
»n4 brave resokitiQn pf this bo»o Wftble lady, thter' 
' T^loiir 


valour of Captain Lawrence^ and som^^eightjr 
soldiers (by the loss only of two men), was deli* 
vered from the bloody intentions of these mer* 
cikss rebels^ on the fourth of August 1 643. 


THE sprig of laurel which this unfortunate 
monarch won by sea was lost by land. Having 
been a spectator of the battle of the Boyne, on the 
first of July 1690, he thought it most prudent, 
while the fate of the day was yet undecided, to 
seek for safety in flight. In It few hours he 
reached the castle of Dublin, wherd he was met 
by Lady Tyrconnel, a woman of spirit. " Your 
cx)untrymen (the Irish), Madam,** said James, 
as he was ascending the stairs, ** can run well."— 
" Not quite so well as your Majesty,** retorted her 
Ladyship ; *• for I see you have won the race.'* 
Having slept that night in Dublin, he rode the 
next day to Waterfoj'd, a distance of ^o hun- 
dred English miles, in the space of twenty-four 
hours : so true is the saying of Butler, 

For fear, though fleeter than the wind. 
Imagines still 't 1$ left behind. 

On his arrival in that city, he went imme- 
diately on board a ship that lay ready for him in 



tlie harbour, in order to carry him to France* 
As he was passing along the quay^ a sudden gust 
of wind carried off his hat ; and as it was nighty 
General O'Farrel, an old officer in the Austrian 
service, presented him with his own. James took 
it without any ceremony, observing, as he put 
it on his head, that if he had lost a crown by the 
Irish, he had gained a hat by them. 


THE following account exhibits the ancient 
and grand manner of housekeeping of the English 
nobility, being the debit side of the account of 
H. Leicester, cofferer to Thomas Earl of Lan- 
caster, containing the amount of all the disburse- 
ments of that noble family relating to domestic 
expenses in the year 13 13 (Record of Ponte- 
fract), regno Edwardi II. 

£1 s. d. 
To the amount of the charge of pan- 
try, buttery, and kitchen •. - 3405 o o 
To 369 pipes of red wine, and two 

pipps of white . - - 104 17 6 

To all sorts of grocery wares - 180 17 o 

To 6 barrels of sturgeon - •' 19 o;o 
To 6000 dried fishes of all sprts • 41 &. y 



To iSi^Ii, of tvax, vermilion, arki £. x, </• 

terpentine - - - -J1474 
To the charge of the Earl's great 

horses^ and servants* wages • 436 4 3 
To linen for the JSarl^ his chaplains^ 

and table - - - -43 170 
To 129 dozen of skins of parchment^ 

and ink - - - * 483 

To two scarlet cloths for the Earl*s 

use ; one of russet to the Bishop 

of Angew, seventy of blue for the 

knights, twenty-eight for the 

*6quires, fifteen for the clerks, fif- 
teen for the officers, nineteen for 

the grooms, five for the archers, 

four for the minstrels and car* 

penters, with the sharing and car- 
. riage for the EarVs liveries at 

Christmas • - - - 460 15 a 
To 7 furs of powdered ermine, 7 
* hoods of purple, 395 furs of budge, 

for the liveries of barons, knights, 

and clerks, and 1 23 furs of lamb, 

bought at Christmas for the 

'squires - - - - 147 r7 $ 

To 168 yards of russet cloth, and 24 

coats for poor men, with money 

given to the poor on Maundy 

Thursday - - - - 8 16 7 



To 65 safFron-coloured cloth? for 

• the barons and knights in sum- 
mer, twelve red cloths for the 
clerks, 26 cloths for the 'squires, .' ^ 

I for the officers, and 4 ray cloths Jt^ s^ d. 
for carpets in the hall - - 34^ 13 8 

To 100 pieces of green silk for the 
knights, J 4 budge furs for sur- 
cpats, J 3 hoods of budge for the 
clerks, and 75 furs of lambs for 
liveries 'in summer, with canvass 
and cords to tie them 

To saddles for the summer liveries 

To one saddle for the E^rl ,,- 

To several items, the particulars in 
the account defaced 

To horses lost in service 

To fees paid to earls, barons, 

knights, and 'squires - - 623 15 5 

To gifts to French knights, Coun- 
tess of Xyar-ren, Queen's nurses, 
'squires, minstrels, messengers, 
and riders - - " , ' • 92 14 o 

To 24 silver dishes, 24 saucers, 24 
cups, I pair of pater nosters, andr i 
silver coffin, all bought this year, 
whensilverwasat IX. 8^. pqrouncQ 103 5 (S 

To several messengers - - , 34 19 8 

To sundry things in the Earl'^ bed- 
chamber - • - • 500 







. 2 







336 itiB OF MA!r. 

To 'several old debts paid this year 88 16 o| 

To the Countesa^s disbursements at 

Pickering - - - . 440 5 o 

To^3i9/^. of tallow candles, and 
iSyo/!^. of lights, called Paris can- 
dles, or white wax candles - 31 14 3 

Sum total £. 7309 12 6 J 

In the above account it is to be observed, that 
silver was then at one shilling and eight- pence 
per ounce; $0 that twelve ounces went to a 
pound sterling; by which it does appear, that 
the sum total expended in that year amounts, in 
our mopey, to 2078/. 175. id. whereby is shewn, 
that the Earl must have had a prodigious estate, 
especially considering the vast disparity of tj>e 
prices* of provisions then and now : therefore, 
we may justly conclude, that such atf estate at 
present would bring in, at least, 200,000/. per 


THE Isle of Man has had its own bishop 
from the time it came into the hands of the 
English in the days of Edward I. of England, 
and pavid II. of Scotland. Man was anciently 



|iubj<^ct«to the Bishojp of the Isles^ tvjbo always 
resided at Icolumkill, till the extinction of epis- 
copacy in Scptland, in 1688.; The bishopsj both 
oFthe Isles and of Man, took thetUle of Epis- 
copus Sodorensis: which Mn Keith derives, 
not from any town, but from the Greek word 
Swrayp, or Saviour, because thecathedrat of Icolum- 
kill is dedicated to our Saviour. Page 175. See 
Mn Robert Keith, in his New Catalogue of 
Bishops in Scotland^ printed at Edinburgh, in 
quarto, anno 1755. 



{Raturning Tie Conversatian^a TaU.) 


I CAN find nothing to be objected or 
amended' in what yoU fa\^oufed itoe with, unless 
you should think the first speech you put into 
your own mouth a little too long. Ic is cer- 
tainly no fault, and I don't know whether I 
should speak odt, but as a proof .that I would^ 
if possibly I was able, find something ]ike a 
fault to shew my zeal, and to have the vanity of 
pretending, like Damon himself, to have ad- 
vised you. Pray, accept my thanks for the sight 

VOL, I. z of 

32^ ** tftiftir i«teirtoitY« 

of th^tn^ and tfittik me modb fiiDre pkaieS tfmt 
vain (thoq^ a lirtte of bofk) to be 

Tour mo^ fiiithful, afTcctlonate^ 

Humble servant^ 


The Duke of Bucks desires to be of our party 
on Monday se*nnigbt» 


AN Inventory of what I *m worth. 
In goods^ and chattels^ and so forth* 
A bed^ the host you ever sawj^ 
With belly-full of hay and straw j 
On whiehm ^Irish'pruice might slefp, 
With blankets warm from off the sheep. 
A table next> around whose coast 
The fuU-chaig'd glass has often sail'd. 
And sparkling to the sparkling toast, 

'Whikt love with ease the heart assail'd. 
A platter thin, a large round O, 
A pot as black as anycrow^ 
In vrhich we bake, as weH as boil. 
And mdt'tfae butter into x>iL| 
And^ if occasion, make a, posset : 
A ^piget, but we 've lost tbe fosset ; 
.A spoon to dash throi^h thick and thin f 
And, best of all^ a roHing-pin. 

A good 

1*KS . QUABLn* 2^30 

AgoodJbt,hQ|g^f.opi)trjip;qi|^; , . 

A hearty welco^ie for a friend^ 
A6d thus my IhvcnOy ^halfje'^^. ' 

OH, yes> 1 will tscarc'h. throti^ tbe gafdqn witV c^re^ 
For NdrdssfL, th^e prime^Oi its ttt^utips ,1 'II stefl. 

To btoom on her bosoi% or twine in bq: hair. 

And each leaf^and edph J>Md3 studl^^aa emUfim cw* 

But say, simple bard^ -cati aJBower' <fWfftf 
The charms ^ i^ar^d^^^e that .belong? 

In thy BMmbersy the pridfs.of t)ie^rdiqa vi[^9f h\ocm,' 
But its grace she surpass^ and i»eds not thy song* 

T is triie; yi^t, perhs^s, she the gift will imi^it^ 
Nor deny it a place in her bqsom to finci j 

For it seeks not to vie in the chiaplet I weaver 

With the grace of. her form, or the charm q( her 

The hycunnth there shall its beauty display. 

That bosom's best emblem ; for poets have stmgy 

TTwas affection's warm tear that enliven'd the clay, 
Wbfnce the sad drooping flower of Undemas sprjmg. 
2 a Th# 


Tbc cowslip enrebM in Ber imantle of gold^ 
O'er the chaplet her bright bending brea:st shall incline; 

For an heart dripph^ Hood lies concealed it its fbld^ 
And U will bloom to Ncrdssa the emblem of mine. 

And^ oh ! in the wreath should the myrtle presume 
To intrude^ and Narcissa its verdure approve^ 

How sweetly the chaplet H would deck with its bloom ! 
But vain is my hope — 't is the emblem of kve. 

The lily array'd in its snowy cymaf, ' 

On her bosom shall smiie^ on her bosom as pure y 

There Truth from her diadem dropt a bright star^ 
And the gem with Narcissa shall ever endure* 

And shall not the rose m the emblem be found. 
The bVeast.of the favourite fair to adorn ? 

Ah ! no : for its beauty sharp perils surround. 
And lit tiom Narcissd 1 M'bTanrsh the jthorn. 

'T is the flower of war, and. its whiiet and its red. 

Have siWer'a jth^ liajiner* and primsouM the shield ; 
And son$ against sires to batllehave led. 

And stain'cl witii tVe slaughiier of brothers the field, 

.;.-.. . .J-: :j.. .... .»•. , . ;• ^^-.^ 

But the olive it$ leaf, more copgenial, shall lend, 
That^bicls the wila spirit of enmity cease ; 

And its verdure'viithL virtue's own violet bleni 
For still may her breast be the maqsion of peace f * 


( 34« ) 


Sir KOGEIL L'EsTRANGE to Sir Christopher 


THE late departure of my daughter from the 
church of England to the church of Rotne^ 
wounds the very heart of me ; — for I do so- 
lemnly protest, in the presence of Almighty God, 
that 1 know nothing of it : and for your further 
satisfaction, I take the freedom to assure you, 
upon the faith of a man of honour and consci- 
ence, that, as I was born and brought up in the 
communion of the church of England, so I have 
l>een true to it ever since, with a firm resolution, 
with God*s assistance, to continue in the same 
to my life's end. 

Now, in case it shall please God, in his provi- 
dence, to suffer this scandal to be reserved upon 
my memory when I am dead n and you make 
vse, 1 beseech you, of this paper in my justifica- 
tion, which I deliver, as a sacred truth * so help 
l&e God« 

Roger L^Estrange. 

% 3 TWO 


[From a MS. in the British Mus^tn.] 

THIS man was born, as the figure rcpre^ 
^ 6ents him ^^ a perfect man from the head to foot , 
well ptoportioned : from his right side issaed a 
}ittle above his hip^ a body of a man, from thd 
middle upwards, perfectly well sbapled, with* 
(lands, arms, and head, very ti^uch like bis bfo* 
(ber*s. It was a male child, as was suppkMed, aC* 
ier he was eome to the age of mafi^ by its beard i 
which was af the same colour and thicktfes^ wkh 
Bis brother's. He could eat and drink \^ifh i 
good appetite, had ^ verjr good sight, aiid co6ki 
apeak as distinctly as his brothi^r. I Jifffiei 
Paris asked, if he eefdld feel whether he had 
thighs and legs in his brothert body, l^ot 
he said he felt none, nor his brother felt no 
motion in his body; neither did it apj^eM by 
the form of his belly, which was ^s fiat a^ ati« 
other man*s of the sAme a^e and bighessi The 
whole man held the other up with his right 
band. — N, B. I saw these two men the rtith of 
June 1716 ; they were aged about twenty- three 
years, as they said. J. P. 

* Thcrp is a representadon of him ia the MS« 


( 345 ) 



THERE is a small book in octavo in the 
British Museum, number 991, wherein divers 
stories are written l^ the hand of Mr. Symonds, 
partly in English and partly in Italian^ They re- 
late to KiogCh^les.1. and others o£Ahc royal 
family; to many of the nobility and gentry of 
those times ; to the Long Pariiameut, Oliver 
Oromwelly his Ssnmly^ partizans^ &c. — in which 
the- .writer asserts : 

Xbat the King gave imist to, and pleased 
those most that had most abused aj24 l^^iated* 

How the Queen of Bohemia, and the Princes|> 
ber &uighter^ weve obliged to act through fear : 

That the King bui written a book with his 
Qwn hand^ wherein were maay things concern*- 
ing government, and a model of government 
£or tins nation, according to that of France^ to 
be cdEected by bringii:^ in the German horse : 

Th«t Oliver St John, since Chief Justice^ 
procuMd a tight of it by means of the Earl of 
Bedfoidy and naode use of it afterwards against 

That Colooel Wheeler was the Duke of 
Buckingham-'s natural son : 

z 4 A short 

344 CtfRIOUt MAHusdniPt. 

A short parration of the ceremonies at Crom^ 
well's taking the Protectorship upon him ; com- 
pliments paid by divers peiSsons to Cromwell; 
part of his pedigree ; Cromwell's procefeioil to 
London, being invited to dinner by Vyner, 
mayor of London : 

That ^t his return, one threw a stone of sis 
pounds weight on his coach : 

That in acting a play at Cambridge, he stum*' 
bled at a crown, put it on, and asked if it' did 
not become him : 

That he required 1,900,000/. per annum to be 
settled on him for the support of his govern- 
ment, though the King never had above 700,000/, 
per annum. 

His behaviour at his daughter's marriage 
feast : 

How Cromwell, with one Bowtelle of Suffolk, 
would see the King's corpse after he was be- 
headed ; and opened the coffin himself with 
Bowtelle's sworxl. 

That Cromwell in his prosperity returned a 
considerable sum of money to one Mr. Canton, 
-whom be had formerly cheated of it at play. 

That the Duke of Buckingham was very li- 
beral to Mr^ Lanier ; of the insolence and ma«* 
lice of Car^e, Earl of Somerset, towards Qnech 
Anne, whom he hated, . with a commendation 
of the noble nature of Prince Henry. :: : 



Of the remarkable fidelity of a ship's crew 
to Prince Rupert, who, upon the springing of 
a plank, put him into a boat, witii sudi as be 
chose lb row him ; and then quietly sunk in his 

The gallant answer sent by Archbishop 
Chichely to King Henry VI. who, as the Arch- 
bishop thought^ had reflected on the meanness 
of his birth. 


[Written in 1734.I 

AFTER he was born, he was thought to be 
born dead, being -fast asleep, and so remained 
^ill after his mother awaked ; and every year he 
bas slept, since the first day of his birth, some-? 
times longer and sometimes shorter. , 

He says* he slept in Holland when he was ten 
years of age for seven weeks together; the 5th of 
August is the time of his falling asleep : he hag 
slept thus this two and twenty years, as dfd his 
mother before him, the same number of days 
and nights. I, James Paris, saw him in his 
sleep the loth of August 17x3 ; he could not be 
waked, cither by shaking, pinching, pricking, 


546 Bissor or berrV* 

nor ho)£Dg strong spitits to bis sose. Dr* 
Woodward pot some of |be stroDgest spirits to 
bis oose ; none of them liad any effect, but a 
ftw grmns of sal anaoioiiiac being put de^p into^ 
his nostrils^ made him cough^ but did not wake. 


THE present Bishop of Dcrry (Earl of Bristol) 
happened some years ago to spend an evening at 
the hoiise of his unfortunate nepKevir G* R. Fits* 
gerald, Esq* in Mcrrion Square, Dublin. Seve^ 
ral ladies were present ; and, as it is well 
known that bis Lordship can assume the die of 
every mind, with as much ease as the camelion 
can assume the colour of surrounding objectt^ 
the circle, which was extremely brilliant, was 
charmed with the variety and vivacity of his con- 
Tersation. The prelate having paid every one 
of the ladies a delicate compliment on their 
beauty, taste in dress, &c, found himsellf at a 
little loss, when be came to a lady, on whose 
cheeks the da0bdil had usurped, the empire o£ 
ihc rose. He was determined, however, to see 
if nature and education had balanced this slight 
^mimm jf and soon found that the beams of his 


IiQagiMtion, however brigfat* weie occa€u^na11|r 
Io0t in the splendoar of her wit. When the com- 
pany had retired, Mr. Fitzgerald asked his Lorxi*. 
drip, what he thought of Mrs. F— *-g ? « Why/* 
s^id the Bishop, ^* she 's the flower of sulphur, 
ahd the cream of tartar.*' 

When his Lordship was consecrated Bishop of 
tkrrjy M he was young, it came into his head ta 
run his lifi^ ^ the phrase is, against the Mies fuo^ 
fits leases of his immense diocese. One of his te- 
Aftnts waited on him in order to renew his lease ; 
the Btshop, after a little conversation, told him of 
the resolution he was about to adopt. The old 
man shook hi$ bead, as much as to say^ Life vb 
uncertain ; at least, his Lordship took it in that 
sense, and heartily exclaimed, ** Come, corae, it 
is a race, bay against gray,'* alluding to the 
colour of his own hair, and the tenant^s gray 

Bs:irafit of a Left er from jintigua^ Jan. 15, 1736,, 

WE arc in a great deal of trouble in this 
island ; the burning of negroes, hanging them 
on gibbets alive, racking them upon the whed, 
ike. takes up almost all our time, that from the 
^6th of October to this day, there have beeii de- 
i stroyed 


troyed sixty-one sensible negroe<^men> most of 
them tradesmen^ as carpenters, tnasons^ and 
coopers. I am almost dead with watching and 
warding, as are many more. They were going 
to destroy all the white inhabitants of the island. 
Court, the king of the negroes, who was to head 
the insurrection; Tomboy, their general, and Her- 
cules, their lieutenant-general, who were all 
racked upon the wheel, died with amazing ob« 
stinacy. Mr. Archibald Hamilton*s Harry, after 
he was condenined, stuck himself with a knife in 
eighteen places, four whereof were mortal, which 
killed him*. Col. Martin's Jemmy, who was 
hung up alive, from noon to eleven at night, was 
then taken down to give information : Col. Mor- 
gan's Ned, who, after he had been hung up se- 
veil days and seven nights, that his hands grew 
top sn^ll for his handcuffs, he got them out, and 
raised himself up, and fell down from a gibbet 
fifteen feet high without any harm. He was re* 
vived with cordials and broth, in hopes to bring 
him to a confession; but he would not confess, and 
was hung again, and in a day and night expired. 
Mr. Yeoman's Quashy Coomah jumped out of 
the fire half burnt, but was thrown in again; and 
Mn Lyon's Tim jumped out of the fire, and 
promised to declare all, but it took no effect. In 
sliort, our island is in a poor miserable condition^ 
that 1 wish I could get any sort of employ in 
JSn^land. $iR 


Speech of the late Sir ARtHUR Brookjb to the Free^ 
holders of the County of Fermanagh^ Ireland, at 
the general Election in i^'jG. 


YOU intrusted me with your lives and pro* 
perty ; in a word, you intrusted me with your 
liberty; for what is lifp and pfbperty without 
liberty? I am but a plain country gentleman ; I 
am one of yourselves. My tongue is Hot the 
pen of a ready writer, therefore ^I did not attempt 
to make fine speeches in parliament; for some of 
yodr fine speech-makers are like a country 
sohoolmaster^ that write a bad hand, but endeai^ 
vour to set it off with flourishes. I have known 
aome of those very men, at the time ihcy -wew 
speaking in favour of their country, look one w^ 
and row another : nay, the very palms of theft 
hands were itching for even a few of Dr. Toirtf^ 
shend*s golden drops *, at the very time thfilf 
were speaking against bribes. I have served yoU 
long, and I am ready to serve you against tarft 
not as young as I was, but I know -the free- 
holders of Fermanagh will not spurn aCtbeJ^raft 
when they got the fioun I have this to say, in 
spite of the devil, and all the court newspapers^ 
that I never voted with the minister, right f or 
wrong. •. .^ 

* Marquis Towosheod, tlien Lord Lieutenaat of Ireland* 


( tSo ) 

THp COPY OF A urrm 

Fnm Oanhekoe, Sachem df theMohegan IndiaM 
in New England^ to Mr. Nicholas Hallvm ; 
written m ihe Indian Language^ and trandated 
tf a sworn Inierpreier, in New England. 

mX JLpVlNO KBX<ia^OUB^ Bjfft. NICHOtAS lUi'LUH^ 

I AM ii^onaed yi>i;i a^ bound for Old Eog* 
land : let me request you to loo^ke me and mj 
condklon known to tbfi gcmtQ^^n Aqncj ^d 
to her noble council ; and ^ inform If^t of ^nr 
beredttary lig^ to the i«oU^ndi?^aki^ of .<Hiir 
dominion and ierriterios bciorelbe SsgU^ <Mue 
into the country, so that wie are not balden to 
tibe /English for the djue loyaky »)d obei^^eno^ 
piidtus by our people, but to tiid igods, .who 
Haife jgi^cfi ;U8 an 'earnest ^nd pledge of our baj^jr 
Si^nheKs 9nd also (a^ our old sages conBtru^) 
^ a mf^ ample kin^pni in the other region* 
3ffeiaiv|ok€n or pfedg(?y sent by the gpds to, our 
i^al family, ris one of ^their -own tobacco-pipe^ 
minch strange vMonddroseat was tak^n up upon 
jthe beach at Seabrook, orthereabouts* Jt :is likp 
narbie, iwith two stemvS^ and the bole in thetmid- 
41e4 This pipe, not made by man, hai;s been Jk^pt 
vhdiccnthan gold^ fromi^siciration togeneiation^ 
and animates all the royal race with a fu^l per- 

\ • :j5uasion 


suaston that they sball sit among the ff^% in 
their long huntrng-hoose, and there mnokc to* 
bacco^ as the highest point df honour and dig- 
nity ; and where tlsere wili be gneat iioastingiaf 
fat bear, deer, and noose, with perfect joy >aad 
tnirth, to crown 'ftie entertakiineBtr HitiM^ertjr 
iCing Charles^ IL of Messed -memoiyy eBnt.-ua >a 
presrtit, viz. a Bible mi aisword,'«hieh; we verj 
thar&fully accepted, and (ept tbem in our trea^ 
snry, as choicdy as we do die atidretaid durioe 
tobacco-pipe, hoping' they may be.a;8afi^aidand 
shield to deffend «s, that we may^ in pcoebss of, 
thne, reap great benefit tibereby, and diAam ta 
the knowledge of ow^G(>d. Bot of late»jl Hiaet 
wiiUgTCAt disoonii^eBieaflfs, and ^bnow^natfloftiat 
tvTR become of my people, :by reason ^-eppeei^ 
ikm. *The court of Hartford, J undenrtafld^tbaa 
grven all my^nting and^bontmg landaMvty to 
Colchester and Now Londm-; ao that, if Irobtam 
not relief ^om the tgrestt Queen*s Migesty, wsf 
people wiU be in temptation to scatter from qiii% 
and iteeto tihe eastward Indians, thefciendaof t<fat 
French, and enemies of the £nglisb. I^^nty^ Sk^ 
rememberniy lo^e and service to the ^«at Qneea 
Anne, and her noble oooncil. l 

Dated Jaly 149 1703. 

As this fettfcr raised >ffae curiosify of somc^ 
sndawakeoedtke humanity and ;>iistice of othmii 



fhefbltowihg article appeared in the public prkiti 
a few days after it was delivered : 
• *• Oanhekoe and his ancestors were formerlj 
chief; princes, and dwtters of all, or great part of, 
the couintry now/cdlled Connecticut Colony, in 
Nev .England; and when the English first 
came, :thesa .Indians treated them very kindly^ 
and for a small and inconsiderable value parted 
with all or most of their lands to the English, 
securing to themselves only a small quantity of 
land to plant upon and hunt in. 

•* These Mohegan Indians have always lived 
peaceably and friendly with the English, and 
Insi^ed them in their wars ^gainst the other 
Indiana, and have, until of late, quietly Enjoyed 
4heir reserved lands : but about a year or two 
dgo,the general assembly ot Connecticut Colony 
made an act for adding those lands to the town- 
ships of Colchester and New London, two towns 
Vrlhat colony ; since which, they have been laid 
Out into divers farms for the English, and these 
poor Indians have been turned out of possession, 
amd thereby destitute of all means of subsistence : 
wbecsbpon Oanhekoe addressed himself to Mr. 
Nicholas Hallum, who is a master of a ship, and 
.has a house and family near Connecticut river, 
desiring him to deliver this letter when he should 
arrive in Etigland. Accordingly Mr. Hallum, 
lately coming over hither, did deliver {9 the Cpxar 



missioilers 0f IVAde and; Plantations^ whose pro* 
vince it properly is to jrepresent such affains to her: 
Majesty, and, it is presumed^ have done it. I'his ' 
Prince, Oanhekoe, after he had given the letter 
to Mr. Hallum. and before the latter set out for 
England, was reduced to so gre^t want, that in a 
melancholy fit he brought his pipe to* htiil, and 
told him^ that since his land was all taken from 
him, he would keep his :pipe (|he vain ensign of 
royalty) no longer, and he might take it over 
with him to England, for a token of the distress 
he was in : — so, Mr. Hallum brought it over 
with him." 

J^ the late Thomas StaciIlhouse, M. A. 

THUS we have observed with what difficul- 
ties and temptations our poor divine, is beset, 
both in the administration of his office, and the 
conduct of his private life. Let us now follow 
him into his study, and consider him in the ca- 
pacity of a scholar^ and a man acquainted with 
divinity. . 

Into his study did I say ? For once we must 
be allowed to call so that little hole in the garret, 
with a stool and a table, and a shelf furnished 
with such valuable pieces, as Wit*s Common- 

VOL. I. A A wealthy 

J54 ^ra^ GVitATB*8 nxnsrr. 

wealthy the Pearl of Eioqocacc^ Qptram^s Sutult-: 
ttideS) or^ Things New mid Old, iat e helps alV 
(ot matter and sense ; cid Bargersdmusj for Ai^ 
thod and ranging } some German <Systdito. for ^ 
general view ; here and theto a clas^icy fof: thr 
use of interlarding; a fe^ stitchod sernlon^^ hf. 
way of imitiftiony and an old Gtnerese Biblcy with 
a useful concordance at the end an *t, to ctdf^im 
and completb alL And now^ whftt may not a, 
man do that is thus ftirhished and equipped f 
What an eloquent and insttuotive peachery 
what an afal'e defender of titilh^ what a vast de^ 
stroyer of heresies^ what a skilful interpreiier of 
hard places^ what ^ nice resolver of cases of con- 
science^ as well as prudent conductor of other 
men's souls, niQst he tBskh with Jiith never-fail- 
ing auxiliaries standing by hun, if he hj^ l;>ut the 
skill to play them off to the best advantage ! " A 
well-furnished house*/* says the Italian pi^dvrirb, 
«* makes a notable dame ;** and sp we may Say tit 
a well-appointed study, that it makes an cittititttt 
divine ; aiid doubtless we mu^t ascribe the ignO* 
ranee of some, and the looseners of ofhei^ Itl 
holy orders, principally to this fktal WArit i bfei 
cause it cannot be supposed, that men of an In- 
genuous education should either be 3o dull i^ hot 
to improve with these mighty help^. Of SO 
wretched, as to seek t&eafi and unbecomitig COlJd- 

* Camera adoma fa donna savia. 



pany^ when they have at home the benefit of 
conversing with the most learned and best men 
in all ages. 

Suppose, then, for once (for we can scarce 
suppose that he can attempt it often) that this 
divine of ours get3 into his study, as we have 
called \{, and, with all hia tackle about him, re- 
solves to fall to work in good earnest ; yet, un- 
kss he has stupified all sense of his condition, 
no TOon^ has he set himself into a posture of 
thinking (I judge of others by myself J, but im- 
niiediately start up the horrid images of baker, aiid 
brewer, and bloody butcher, that will bring in no 
more provisions of any kind, till their long*neglect- 
ed bjlls be paid. It is natural upon such occasions 
fat; an honest man, that would pay if he could, 
to put his hand in his pocket, and ask himself 
the qaestion, what he has ? but one solitary shil- 
litig ; God wot--^that to be gone before t<>-mor- 
tow mortiing; where to find another. Heaven only 
knows that, for friends have been tried over and 
overilgain, all to no porpo^. This quashes all his 
ambition to be great, hurries his mind from the 
thing he was upon, and drives him from his books, 
in deep confusion and despair ; for the man most 
be sotted that can sit him down to sttrdy, when 
the great design of all (become of learning what 
it Will) remains unanswered, how he is to live. 


( 3J6 ) 


THE late Doctor Foster, a $eniOF fellow of 
Trinity College, Dublin, having been appointed 
to one of the best livings in the gift of that uni- 
versity, was very muCh beloved by his ilock, over 
whom he presided with all the watphfulness and 
affection of a truly Christian pastor. The Doc- 
tor was a n^an of profound learning, but ex* 
Iremely absent, and, in some respects, eccentric, 
which, however, had no immoral tendency. He 
was a little too fond of what Pope caljs yellow 
dirt, a failing to which many good men are sub- 
ject, especially those who have no children, 
which was the Doctor's case, though many years 
married to an amiable woman. In his absent 
moments, it was not unusual with him to- walk 
out with his bat in his hand, in all kind of wea- 
ther, even in the midst of a heavy shower, and it 
was not till the rain had drenched his wig and 
clothes that he put on his. beaver, which was 
often filled with v^ater, as he carried it with the 
hollow side uppermost, so that the contents ran 
in streamlets down liis shoulders. Another in- 
stance of his absence is the more extraordinary, 
as it related to money ; and not only evinced his 
humanity, but a strict regard to his worcjL After 



death of Mrs. Foster (who had been sole ma- 
nager, and a very learned and sensible woman), 
being quite disconsolate and alone, he returned 
to his alma mater, for the sake of society, where 
he took chambers. One day, after looking over 
some papers, in the absence of his servant, he 
went out, forgetting to lock his door, not per* 
ceiving or recollecting that he had left a thou- 
sand pound bank note upon the table, which had 
been paid him that morning, and of which he 
had made no minute. Some days after, how- 
ever, he missed the note, and being reminded by 
the servant (whom he knew to be honest) that he 
had left the door open, he copcluded that the note 
had been stolen by some one who had peeped into 
the chambers, and accordingly advertised it, offer- 
ing an hundred pounds reward to the person that 
would restore ii. The advertisement was immedi- 
ately answered by the person who took it, inform- 
ing the Doctor that he would meet him next day 
at a certain hour in the Beau W^lk, Stephen's 
Green, and restore it. The Doctor went according- 
ly, and met the man, but forgot to bring the hun- 
dred pound which he had promised, of which he 
informed the man, who insisted,however,upon the 
Doctor takingthe note, which at length be consent- 
ed to, appomting the man to meet him at the same 
time and place next day to receive the hundred 
pound, when the Doctor punctually attended, and 
A A 3 performed 


performed his covenant without aaking a qoe8« 

It should be added, that the Doctor wa$ 
strongly solicited by some of his friends, to whom 
he had mentioned the matter (one of whom was 
a bishop) to bring a constable with him in both 
the first and second instance, and take up the 
man ; which, however, the Doctor could not he 
prevailed upon to do, saying, it would be fin act 
of teachery and breach of £aith that all mankind 
should reprobate^. 


AN Englishman, who knew the valoe of his 
own constitution, and the richness, strength, and 
beauty of his own language^ chanced on a time 
to fall into the conversation €>( a French savani 
(for all are men of letters in France; from the 
head of a university down to the f>enny-po^ 
roan). The conversation turned on the French 
and English languages. The Parisian condemned 
the English as defective in the variety of inflec- 
tions : '^ Thus,*' said be, ** I love, you love, he 
loves ; we love, ye love, they love ; you see, it is 
love through all/* The Bnglishman, who well 
knew that simplicity is ooe of the chief beauties 
of any language, was xesolved to meet Mon- 
3 sieur 


fAc^T on his pwo ground ; ^d when the vain 
Gaul l;hoA}glut he w^s just ready tp (:arry off the 
sjpolia opma, he addressed hind thus: " It is true, 
that love is as immutable in our tongue as it is in 
our hearts; but I perceive that you never followed 
an English verb throughout the whole of its con- 
jugation. Now, there 's the verb, to twist — I'll 
C?>|ijugatc it, if you please :*' on which he re- 
peated the following lines out of Dr. Wallis : 
■ i» ' * , . 

'^ When a twister, a-^wisting, will twist him a twist. 
With the twisting of his twist, he the twines doih' 

entwist ; • 
■But if one of the twines rf the twist do untwist. 
The twiiie that untwieteth, untwisteth the twist» 
Untwisting the twine that fxitwistetb between, 
Ife twists, with his twister, the two in a twine ; 
Then twice having twisted the twines of the twine. 
He twlsteth the twine he had twined, in twain. 
The twain, that in twining before in the twine. 
As twinfe were entyi^isted, he now doth untwine; 
^Twixt the twain, intertwisting a twine more between, 
^e, twilling bi3 twister,, makes a twist of the twine." 

The Frenclmaian was obliged to acknowledge, 
that, in point of variety, the English language 
was superior to his own. 

. &^ Johnson's SHctianary, under th wordi Twist. 

A A 4 ' '•"' QJTEEN 

(360 ) 

QUEEN ELl2ABtrH*s SPEECH at the ©IS- 

January 2, 1566. 

I HAVE in this assembly found so much 
dissimulation, where I always professed plainness, 
that I marvel thereat ; yea, two faces under one 
hood, and the body rotten, being covered with 
two vizors, succession and liberty. But, alas! 
they began to pierce the vessel before the wine 
was fined, and began a thing, not foreseeing the 
end. Now, by this means I have seen my well- 
wishers from my enemies, and can, as meseemetb, 
very well divide the house into four. First, fault; 
second, the speakers, who by eloquent tales per* 
suade others ; third, the agreers ; and lastly, 
those who sat still mute, and meddled not therc^ 
with, but rather \yondered, disallowing the 
Inatter, who ia my opinion are most to be ex- 


Erected in the Tower at the proper Cost of the 
House of Peers J where at present inhabit three of 
the best Masters of the Time. 

By Lord Rochester. 
Fpund in hts own Hand-writing among his Papery. 


HE that wQuId learn to fence for his life. 

Of rua away with a grace another man's wife ; 



How to drink and make apeechea^ ^i^3e^ hanter, aiid 

Let him but unto the tower repair 5 
And if George does not teach him as well as he can. 
By — — - he's no Lord^ but a dull alderman, 


But if he would learn the method of sleeping.; 
And of an estate^ too^ the method, of keeping y 
Not getting, for that 's not a topic in fashion ; 
Why^ Cecil will teach him the best in the nation: 
But as for more wit^ God knows he has none ; 
His father got all^ and left none for the son. 


But if you would be a statesman in grain^ 

And learn the whole art of legerdemain. 

With all the tricks of a tumbler of state 5 

As from nothing to rise to somethmg that 's great. 

And from thence, without breaking his neck, to be 

Little Anthony Cooper ^s the best in the world. 


THERE is a town called Bruhston (Bristol) 
opposite to Ireland, and extremely convenient for 
trading with that country. Wulfstan* in- 
duced them to drop a barbarous custom, which 
neither the love of God, nor the King, could 

* Wulfstan was Bishop of Worcester, acd died in 109$. 


]^fevail Mtkem^alay ffcsidd. T^ii \^f^ (he ttMft 
for slaves, collected from all parts of England, 
and particularly young women, whom they took 
care to provide with a pregnancy, in order to en«- 
bance their value. It was a most moving sight 
to see, in the public markets, rows of young peo- 
ple of both sexes tied together with ropes, of 
great beauty, and in the flower of fbetr yeuth, 
daily prostituted, daily sold: — dxecraUe.fact!-^ 
wretched disgrace !— 4nen unmindfut evcji of the 
affection of the brute creation ! delivering into 
slavery their relations, and even their very off- 

ViU$ S» Wulfslan. m AngUa Sacra, ii, 258* 



THE war of 1688 was excited by Iioqvois, 
the French minister, to secure himself in his 
office, which he judged to be in danger, from 
perceiving, as he thought, an alteration in Louis 
XIV/s disposition towards him. The story is 
thusrelated by the Duke de St. Simon, in his Me- 
moirs : ** The castle of Trianon was just built, 
when the King perceived a defect in the propor- 
tion of one of the windows. Louvois, who was 
naturally insolent, -and who had been so spoik 
that he co^ild hardly bear to be foi^nd fault with 


By his iMster, maintained that the window W49 
weU {xofMrtionod. The King turned bis backojh 
fainiy and walked away. The next day» the K'ltig^ 
seeing ht Notre, the architect, asked him if ba 
bad been at Trianon. He answered in the na^ 
gative. The Ki»g ordered him to go thither, and 
told him of the defect which he had discovered ixk 
the window. The next day, the King again 
asked him if be bad been at Trianon : he ^gain 
answered that he had not. The following ^f 
the same question was again asked by the King, 
and the same answer given, by the arditteet. The 
King now saw clearly, that Le Notre was afraid 
of being under the necessity of declaring eitbet 
he or bis minister was in ihe wrong, and with 
some anger he commanded Le Notre and I^ou^^ 
Tois to meet him the next day at Trianon. No 
evasion was now possible ; accordingly, they met : 
the window was immediately mentioned: Lou* 
vois persisted in his former opinion : Le Notre re^- 
mained silent ; at last, the King ordered him to 
measure the window: be obeyed; and while be 
was so employed, Lou vois, enraged that such a 
criterion was resorted to, discovered his chagrin, 
and insisted, with aorimot^, that the window 
w asexactly like the rest. When Le Notre had 
finished, Louvois asked him what was the result. 
Le Notre hesitated. The King, with much pas«- 
fiioD, cMMnanded bim to speak out He then 


364 LOUV6IS. 

declared, that the King was In the right, knd 
that the windotv was not proportioned to the 
rest. Immediately, the King turned to Louvois, 
told him there Was tio enduring his obstinacy, 
and reproached hira with much vehemence. 
Louvois, stung with this reprimand, which was 
pronounced in the presence of many courtiers, as 
well as of workmen and footmet), returned home, 
furious with rage. At his house he found St. 
Fooange Villeneuf, the Chevalier de Nogent, the 
two Tilladets, and some other of bis most de- 
voted friends, who were much alarmed at seeing, 
the state of mind he was in. ^It is all over,^ 
said he ; ' I must have lost all credit with the 
^ King, from the manner in which be has been 

* treating me only about a window. I have no re* 

* source but in war, which will divert his attention 

* from his buildings, and will render my assistance 

* necessary ; and, by G — y war he shall have/ 
He kept his word : war was declared a few 
months afterwards, and he contrived, in spite of 
the King, and of the other powers, to render it 

Thus did a childish dispute between a vain- 
glorious prince and an insolent minister, on the 
most trivial occasion, kindle a war, which lasted 
for eight years; which raged in Ireland,^ in 
France, in the West Indies, upon the seas, in 
Spain, in Savoy, in Flanders, and in Gormany,^ 


THB. ItlVUa BCfiXICAKS. 365 

in ivhicb millions ofJtreasares were spent; maoyi 
thousand lives lost, all the towns and villages of 
the Palatinate burned^ and that whole country 
reduced to a scene of universal desolation. 


By the kUe Dr. Lvon. 

' I KNEW two publicans, Sam Henry, and 
Torn Irwin. Henry was a civil, obliging fel- 
low, and opened a little alehouse at the sign of 
the Goose, which he drew with his own hand, 
'whence he obtained the name of Sam Goose, 
with which he seemed to be so weH * pleased^ 
that he used often to draw a humorous compa- 
rison between himself and that animal. ' His wit, 
vvbich was of a peculiar cast (for it wa^ without 
gair), dtew many people to his house, whidh was 
badly ftirhished ; fot'the best iroom had only on6 
old tabife, so infirm, that it was .supported 
by a log of wood, and a chair, reserved for 
the priest^ of the parish (who loved a mug of 
good ale), with a piece of a brdkeh looking- 
glass, in which many a rustic Helen had of- 
ten surveyed the opening rose of beauty. Sam 
was as happy as atiy mtan on earth, with a con- 
stant smile on his countenance : the guest was 
equally welcome, whether he paid in moneys or 



kft 3. ffiemoml in chalk. . Itw'm wat of aik eii^ 
ttoos dispositioQ ; he bAd scraped some money 
together, aod as he found that Henry made out a 
living on a* trifle^ he thought that he might do 
wonders on forty times the sum. He built a 
large house with three rooms, half a dozen glass 
windows^ with suitable furniture, a large oak 
table, that reflected the countenance of all that 
encircled it ; drinking glames iilstead of horns ; 
and a bell into tlie bargain, which was the first of 
the kind ever known in the country. Bvery thing 
was ready to the sign ; for a public house with* 
out a sign, is like a book without a title-pagp^ or 
a bishop without a mitre. What was the si^, 
then, do you think ? — A Fox running off with 
a. Goose,^ alias Sam himself^ some of whose fea* 
tures could be traced in the Roman sentinel. A 
new broom sw^ps clean, and a new house will 
draw customers ; and notwithstanding the excel* 
leal colour and flavour of Sam*s fat ale, and the 
inexhaustless fund of his humour^ yet be found 
that some of his oM customers could pass by with 
a " How d* ye do?'* A couple of farmers in the 
neighbourhood enabled Sam, hpwever, to oat- top 
his rival in a house and furniture^ with a sigq of 
bis own device, the Goose running away with 
the Fox. His rooms were constantly crowded, 
and the standing toast was, ^^ Success to our 
^st, and. may the Goose always run away with 
AeFox.'* Thb 

i 3^7 ■■)■ r 


The two UNCLES and the TWO NEPHEWS. 

T^m. WElfLi Jack, I *m glad p see you. , . 

Jack* I amjufttcome to tpwn. 

.T^m^ I wss jtold that you had buried youi^if 
in the coi;u>try. 

/act. A man that can Imry himself, may be 
faii^y called bis own undertaker. Joking apait| 
I lead a very happy life in the country ; I can eat 
what I please, dtiuk what I please, sleep wheixl 
please, and dream what I please: I assure yx^a I 
would not §Lv^ ^y dreams for 500/I a'yean 

Tom* I i^ould give any person that sitra who 
would take ipy dreams off my haod. I dreamt 
}a6t night that my uncle was dead* 

Jaci. TtmVsasign h^i'singoodbe^Itbi, . * 

Tom. Ay^ and likely to^ live lor eyer. 

Ja€i. Ajid my good unck is, likely ta Uvf 
much longer. 

Tom^ But your uncle ca? part wUh a shilUog 
on certain occasions. 

Jack. Not without ^ tear. 

Tom. But mine will neither part with a shil* 
liag nor a tear^ but would expect inte^est^r U)e 
sound of one. 

Jack* And nune would expect interest for 



the sight of one; for his heart-strings and his 
purse-strings are the same. 

Tarn. But your uncle will sometimes ask you 
U>Wmer. ' ' ^ "■' 

Jack. For the niere purpose of giving me an 
appetite. The last time he asked me to his ante- 
diluvian board, I was very hungry. The whole 
dinner consisted of a bit of gristly meat in an 
ocean of liquid^ for I could neither call it broth 
not soup: it resembled a floating island in the 
Black Sea. Then ^s to drink, a broken cup of 
sour small beer. I wished it had been hung 
out on the hedge^ that the water might have 
drained out of it. 

Tom. Well, I dined with my tincle much 
about the same lime for a wonder. We had such 
a quantity of cabbage^ that I thought he had 
asked alt the tailors in the parish to dine with 
him^ with a piece of rusty bacon^ that would 
have made an excellent moreeau at an antiqua- 
rian feast Our beverage, sn^all beer, according 
to his own account^ was so strong, that he was 
obliged to confine it in a large stone jug ; but 
to tell you the truth, Sampson brought the wa- 
ter, and Lazarus the malt. 

But, de mortuis nil nisi honum : there remains 
nothing of the dead but their bones, as my old 
schoolmaster used to say, as I do not suppose that 
any other man in the kingdom would have given 


AND Tpi TPWC^ K|IPH£W9. ^^^ 

it^eeljttf^-rcioro. I was resolved torgivejt as little 
belly-room as possible, which I did by pretend*^^ 
ing- that it would affect my head. Squaretoes 
praised my temperance, declared that he thdught 
it too heady for a young man, while he poured 
a portion of water into the little that remained 
in the cup, which I was obliged to drink, lest I 
should offend him. As it was a gala in honour 
of the peace, he was attired in the choicest 
flbwers of his wardrobe/ a coat that had passed 
through sixteen editions with the addition of a 
pair of pockets, that never were intrusted with 
any thing however ; a waistcoat that had har- 
boured ^a pation of moths ; a pair of breechefs 
contemporary with the siege of Troy ; a pair df 
Hudibrastic boots ; and a pair of stockings, si> 
curiously darned or rather embroidered, that the 
gloss could hot be distinguished from the text. 

Jack. Let me add a duplicate to your descrip^ 
tion : the last time I saw my uncle, it Was on his ^ 
birth-day. He was enveloped in a muddy vesture of 
decay, a doublet that might have been worn, for 
aught 1 know, by Mathusalem's younger brother ; 
a wig gray with age, a pair of spectacles dim with 
age, a shirt as thin as a twenty shilling note, a pair 
of breeches ofd Diogenes might have appeared 
at court in, a pair almost contemporay with his 
legs, and a pair of shoes truly democratic, for the 
soles and heeU were on a level. 

VOL. !•. B i Top^ 

Tom. Such a pair— i-lct us change the 8tibfect# 
Death may yet befriend us, when we letrst cje- 


'The siege of Clonnriel ♦ in the year 1650, b 
one of the most memorable in the annals'of Ire^ 
land. Hugh O^Neal, a spirited young man, 
with 1200 provincial troops maintained the 
town, in so gallant a manner, that Cromwell a 
temper, arts, and militilry strength, were fairly put 
to the test. Ormond, it is true, did every thing 
in his power to sqccour the besieged, but with 
lillle effect: Boetius M*Eagan (Baothgbalach 
M'Aodhagan, as it is written in Irish), the Ro- 
man Catholic bishop of Ross^ was particular]/ 
active in collecting, animating, and leading on 
the remaips of the troops that Cromwell had 
put to flight in different engagements. Thii 
unforlonate prelate, wlio might well be called 
the soul of his party, at length fell into the 
hands of Lord Broghill, one of the ablest of the 
parliamentarian generals. His Lordship knew 
the value of his captive, and prudently resolved 
to turn a man, whom the fortune of war had 
thrown into his hands, to the greatest advantage. 

* The chief town of the ccrmity of Tipperafy. 

: ^ He 

He knew that the influence of his prisoner ovet 
the royalists was unbounded; and that a few* 
words from him would have more effect than all 
thp artillery he had collected. His Lordship there- 
fore offered him his life on condition that h|5 
yvrauld exercise his authority with thjc garrison 
pf a fort called Carrickdrogid near the field of 
battjjs : he premised to use hi^ influmce, and 
so he did; for being conducted to the fort, he 
conjured the garrison in the name of Heaven^ 
their religion, love of country, and the spirits of 
those who had fallen in support of all that was 
dear to them, to maintain their post, and to hury 
themselves in its ruins, before they would yield 
it up to an implacable enemy. As soon as he 
had done, he turned round, looked on Lord 
Broghill with a smile of complacency, and de* 
sired to be led to the scaffold t he was accord* 
ingly executed on the branch of a tree, within view 
of tlie fort *. Coxe-f- and Leland, in their His« 
Itories of Ireland, take notice of this circumstance 
with the cold indifference of an annali,sji,; nor 
did they think it worth their labours to record 
even the name of a man who acted so gallantly 
^om principle,^ and who undauntedly sealed the 
cause he espoused ^ith his blood. 

* Boetips Eganus Episc. R()S8ensis in jrk pubUqt a tar|r)| 
pq^inim bosttiim compnrlien^u^, suspq^pi| jn ex arl^are ifc 
\f^m equ! suis. Bthem. Domnitiifmt^^ 


( 37» ) 


THE late Dr. Bacon, soractime fellow of Ok- 
ford, chanced one morning to ride by a method- 
ist chapel, and on seeing these words, " Let 
your moderation be known to all men,** painted 
in large capitals on the door, he alighted, took 
out his pencil, and wrote the following lines im- 
mediately under : 

. What ! talk of moderation^ sons: of w — nes, 
Who 've shut your moderation out of doors ! 


• THIS amiable and accomplished monarch, on 
Ijeing driven from the throne of Poland in 1734, 


* Sonislaus Lesczynski was descended of one of the most 
illustrious houses in Poland. He was one of the Polish paia« 
*ilnates, that declared in favour of Charles XII. King of Swe* 
den. Charles raised him to the throne against his will And 
It must be confessed, tliat the Poles found themsHves as happy 
under his government as the perturbed state of the limes 
woiiM admit. TTiis prince was fEither<^in-law to Louis XV, 
When he was l»adished from the throne of Poland, he fied 
to France, where Louis allowed him.a peiision, which enabled 
him to maintain the splendour of his birth^ and hereditary 
* * fortune. 

addressed the following: Jelter,. op :the eye of h\s 
^ight» to the {^rim^te and xpagna^^e^ of Pa- 
laud. : ..^ ■ ^. ^ ■ . - ,-j. .^ , 

t; -V From the crucl^pan^ I feel mJ&e thcmghts 
of leaving^ you, *my dear and trqstjr frtcnds^iyou 
XBay frame ii)jjt35t 'idea of the afflicted «tafe oCoiyt. 
soul, in these Jbittef: flfi^cncnt&; Nor is this 
painftiljficsolulBW takenv but from the preva- 
lence of your sage persuasion, and an assurance, 
that the sacrifice of my ger^on could be of no ad- 
vantage to you. Tsend you "this parting em- 
brace; I clasp you all in my throbbing heart. 
Alas ! the t^arS 'Whictt dbHterate tt)r^wrfting, 
compel me to stop- , *T were more easy to read ! 
the tender expressions graved qq my hearty c^^ld 
you but see it. I opce mpre emljrace^yoti, and 
am your? more than words c^ncxpicsps^ .:;.\;^. 

** To my good City of Dantzicki^- '^* ^ 

^^ After bating beenobeUi here a^kMig: iiAd< tJy 
the atti^action^nof your- onpgiulleled fidelity, 1 am 
preparing to dfe^aW-ih thetiftohi^H can nalbioger 

fortunir. He wrote and ^poKie th^.f Fcnch hngifage whhfl^l' 
$icai purity. Hejtft some p^jlosophfcal w^jiings behiafll(i(np 
one or two of which wj?re p|mted. As be wast>ne tnorniog 
standing before the 6 re, a spark capght hold of hi$ morniHg 
gown, which instantly enveloped him in a blaze ; and before 
any^ assistance 'arrived, he was burned in so shocKitiga man* 
ner, that he died in great tx)rment8 in the couVse of a few 

«j . .- B B 3 possess 


J)68se^8 you : I ritrry wtB itac thfc pbign^nt^fatii 
l^ish of your saiibrings, atid SU(^ a s^eit$t df mjr 
obligations to you. I wish you all the ha|)pi- 
ness yob dbserve, ^hich tvill in 8om^ ftteksuro 
assuage my concern in being toVr} f>d)W ybdf 
aimi^ I #01^ at ill tiifnet, «nd in dvbt^ ]^2te^ 
^^ y^uraflT^ctioiiatc ' ^ ■ 


tmti.hy Piron, i:i« BRAtJjoN, /fc hVil i?W*r>ip 
Gifieral, ibid bO^ti Coa^ tOFotted ibUfk PAtUs 

Children, hfrtfdy BlcS, itJU^^fo^ "PdykkM t^Ak 
FolITak. ■: ^ 

UN Ttaxoim Oiistra^.ftiride M ii^^Sfd^, 

Et.prodiguant par tout f^gt«lW1T^pi^eux^ ,. , {. . 

Boil dans des coupes d -or )es pleurs des xi^albeureux* ^ 
A Fanner General) to ill v^ftiie M^t^ 
Of faift unjust exiorllcms d^res to bdia^t ; 
Tii golden cars he lords it i^h tTi.A {)laih 5 ' v 
The blackest vice4 forth b|i8 d^os^h train : * 
with royal pomp he every ^^here appears, 
i^aci 4^inks in cups of gold the orphan's tcara^ 

i m h 


SOME years ago. Father de Arana^, a Carmel- 
'itc\ ptiblicrbed a book at Panipeluna, in favour of 
Phi^pX. The title ran thas, word for word: 
«* The Lord Pbittp V. is tr6e King of Spain, of 
God^» own Making. The Tower of the second 
David, persecuted and victorioiis, fortified with 
three Butwark^^ vie. jfustice, Religioii, and Poli- 
cies, to wUck a tbau«afid Shields are fastened to 
defend his Crown : dedicated and coneecrated to 
4he Kifig our Lord, whom God preserve for the 
Glory of Spain, and (he Good of Christendom. 
By Father Hyacinthus d'Aranaz^ a Native of 
the most fattfaiui City of Sapguessa, Doctor of Di- 
vinity, Sjtiodal Examiner of the Archbishopric 
cf Toledo, ChapUin to his Majesty, &c.'' 

*• El Senor Phelipe V. es el Rey de las Espanas, 
veidadero dado per la Mano de Dios. Torre in* 
oi^nlltstable del sequendo David perseguido y 
^victorioso, guarnecida de tres Propugnaculos,Ju8- 
ticHi, iBLeKgioo, y Poiitica ; de que penden mil 
Eseudosquie defiendeh su Corona : que dedica 
"y consagra al Rey nuestro Sennor, que Dios 
guarde patm Gloria de Espana, y aumento de la 
Chrigtiandad,*Fr,Ja€inte d'Aranaz, Natural de 
la £de)tissima^Citidad de Sanguessa, M. en Sagre* 
ifo'^tlbeoldgid) ^Kam^Ha^ synodal del Arcobi- 

^B4 spado' 

$^6 sit ytXin'^r. 

spado de Toledo, Prcdicador dc su Mag. Ex pro- 
curador y Cojprnissario jjcncraj, del Orden dc 
Nuestra Scnora del "Carniiii, y pfovincial titular. 

jThe author compares his wprj^ to a tower,or 
fpftrpss, \v|th three bulwarks, .,JFifteei| sbiclds 
gre fastened to the ^rst bulwarJi, eight to the se* 
copd> and four to the third. To get in^o that (qx* 
tress; one must go through a poi:tAqo, where, s^ys 
4hd author, one niay be'inforined^ thatthe Deyi), 
in quality of the Prince. of Discprd, i^ospinesJhe 
malecontents with ^ desire of, changing, their 
king; and has intrusted the 1 heretics wilh the 
execution !of such aa enterprise. ^ . , .m > 


WHEN but twenty.four years of rag<^ Mr. 
Hattlib, in a letter to the Hon, Rob^ct^ Boyle, 
describes hini " as. a perfect FrenchAiali> and 
good linguist in other vulgar langu^gfs, besides 
Latin ^nd Greek, a most rare and exact ana- 
lomiist, and excelling in all mathepiatical an^ 
mechanical learning, of a sw^t O.^tpra,! disposi* 
tion and moral comportment.** He declined th* 
practice of physic many years before his deaths 
as I find intimated in a Pharm^opceia printed 



in',i<i77, which has this n6te writtenrin the raar- 
giir : .** Qulielmos Petty, equcs auratus, qui mo» 
dicpnim castra oHm deseruit." 


. . JOHN LUborne saved by the power of the 
.Lordy^.and the integrity of his jury, who are 
y^^gcs.of law as well as of fact, Oct. a6^ 1649. 
• Reverse. 

In several. circles one within the other, a rose 
:in the centre. 

Miles Petty, Ste. Ues. Abr. Smith, John King, 
JMic. Murin, Tho. Dainty, Edm. Keysar, Eder, 
parkins^ Rol. Packman^ Wil. Comins. Ly, Wi- 
don^ Hus. Towlin. Ckt. 26, 1649. 


Of an Indian King in a Conference at Benningim 
in 1678. 

OUR young men may speak such words as 
we do not like, nor approve of; and we can* 
not help it. And some of your young men maf 
speak; wch words as ypu do not like ; and you 


37^ 8PBSCH..0P AVOlVmjLB UMG. 

cannot help tbatr We aitjdm brothers^ and 
intend to live like brothers with you; we bate 
no mind to have war, for when wehave war^ wc 
are only skin and bones; the meat that we eat 
does us no goodi: we alwajF»ai?e in fear; and we 
have not the benefit of the sun to shine on us ;. 
we hide in boles and corners. We are iQinded to 
live in peace, if we intend, at any time, to 
ihake war upon you, ^ will let you knoi# of it^ 
jaod the reasons why we make war wttb you; 
and if you make us satisfaction for the iDJuty 
done us, for which the war was intended, then 
me will not make war on you. And if you in- 
tend, at any time to make war on us, we would 
bave you let us know of it, and the reason; 
and if we do not make satisfiiction for- the iii» 
jury dolie unto you, then you may make war oil 
us ; otherwise you ought art to do it. -' You aife 
our brothers, and we are willingjto live like bro» 
thers with you^ -we are. w^tlliag to have a broad 
path for you and us to walk in ; and if an In- 
dian is asleep in th^^th, the Englishman shall 
j)ass by and do^ him no harm, and. say, ^ fit 
is^n Indian; be i^ asleep, let him alone; 
lie loves sleep." It shall be a plain path ; there 
itii«st not foe id this {lath la ^ttanp to huiVA)ur 
feet. Artd as to the imaWpb^^ it was once in my 
grandfather's timei, and it eould not be the Eng^ 
^i^ thati:ould fiond it' tt» I4s4he4i, (iititt bei% i|0 


English tti the country: and it was onci5 in mjr 
father's time ; they could not send it to us then 
tveit^ei'; ahd tiow it i^ in my titn^: 1 do not 
believe thi?y have sertt k to Us now 5 I do believtf 
it is^h^ mm above that bath s^nt it to us/^ 


Pan Sept. 8, 1861* 
TfeHRIBLE they certainly arc in politics, fat 
Aty execute rapidly what thiefy project inces- 
santly; insidious in their professions, subtil ^ii^ 
their hypocrisy, and sanguinary in their power. 
In France they feel too inexpressible delicacy, or 
too inconceivable horror ; their individual nyir- 
ders have ever been diaracterized by peculiar 
find eompleit barbarity. Impetuous feeling are 
fugitive, and take an. opposite direction; they 
commit murders, and then inscribe, " Ici Fon 
^nse^ Like wbinen in all things, they are wo 
men in vengeance. Impatient of restraint, in 
war a siege discourages and envenoms them ; in 
]^ce an orderly constitution can neither excite 
(heir love, nor their reverence. Terrible in as- 
sault, contemptible in flight ; vast in their pro- 
jects, imbecile in their pursuits ; capable of imar 
gining nU things^ incapable pf performing any. 


Tbejr, triumph for a)mornent,:andMtic8paindtfriiig 
a eentury« Of ail nations they Mooerhave fcU-H^at 
raving of political imagination, which has aspiiri^d 
tp an universal mon«|jctiyH( or an«.univer6a} repub- 
lic ; but (hey h^ve never kiK>w.Q,that iBrili^^ ;yi*- 
gour of judgment, which could form for Eng- 
lishmen the most pe rfect cons titution human 
nature could devise. When the French were 
slaves they reverenced the English ; when free, they 
imitated them ; now, hVcritiouS, they envy and 
hate them. They may afflict Europe with con- 
tinued revolutions, yetiDay,tbd;r dcaigns be frus- 
trated. One revolution , was. :su$cient for ,th|5( 
English*. - J 



Ji the End of Ms BibJe wroie-ih^ folhtjoifrg^ Note.^ 

I HAVE regularly and attentively rea4 these 
Holy Scriptures ; and am of opinion,^ that this 
volume, independently of its divine origin, con- 
tains more true sublimity, more exquisite beau- 
ty, more pure niorality, more important history, 
and finer strains both of poetry and eloquence,^ 
than can be .collected . from all other books, in 
whatever ^ge or language they naay have beea 

The'two parts of which the Scriptures consist^ 
dre isonnected by a chain of compositions, which 
bear no resemblance, in forth or style, to afty 
that can be produced from the stores of Grecian^ 
Persian, or even Arabian learning. The anti- 
quity of those compositions no nian doubts ; and 
the unstrained application of them to events long 
subsequent to their publication, is a solid ground 
of belief that they are genuine predictions, and 
consequctitly ifis|Sircd. ' 


IT is certain that Dr. George Stone was not 
indebted for his preferment in church or state to 
his birth or learning. His paternal grandfather 
wasgadfer of Winchester. The ill natured peo- 
ple of those (Jays used to say, that his heart was 
harder than his name. The Doctor was a nian 
of rnost accomplished manners and >Vinning ad- 
dress ; and of so handsome a person, that he 
was called the " Beauty of Holiness/' It docs 
toot appear that the queen of love smiled on his 
birth; he lived and died a bachelor. There 
never was a man more zealously devoted to what 
was called the English interest in Ireland. ** Vain 
man^ dressed in a little brief authority/' he little 


kocw tb^t the interest of thip tsvo countrliss ofigKt 
to be inseparable: thant^ He^ven^ that day if 
sit length arrive(]^ when tjhis immutablp fn^xim^ 
4S demonstrable as any prppositign in f^Mclid^ 19 
$eea in its true point qf yipw. Uqder tfcp ap-* 
pearancp of frankness and hospitality, be cpn? 
eeal^d an ambition that cou14 scarcely he grat)^ 
i|ed with the ^rst mitre in the Jdng(}om pf Jre-r 
laod- To spiritual he was analogs to add tem- 
poral power, and. for years he was lo^Jied up |to 
as the prime mover of the Irish Cabinet : he was 
consulted on ev^ry important state question, and 
often gave his opinion, it is said, in so dictatorial 
a tone, that the Viceroy sometimes felt himself 
called upon to interpose his authority. 

]L.ike all ambitious men, he d^spi^ed moa^y, 
^nd but too often distributed his favours indis* 
criaiinately. His establishment was splendid, his 
entertainments sumptuous, and his e^peoisey 
at least equal to hi^ income. His table was 
generally encircled with sycophants; somp flftt^ 
tered him e^^en to his face ; «ome lulled him iQ 
the down of dedications; and some, to whom he 
had been very kind, lampooned and abused him« 
Me was translated from the bishopric of Derry, 
to the melropojitan see, whilst yet in the primp 
of life, and for some time he confini^d his at- 
tention to his pastoral care, which gave great sa*- 
ti^faptipn toall the thinXin^ apd SQbqrpart of his 



immcQSe diocese*'; but as this was an act of selfi* 
festraint, whien he found bis political influence 
suj^ciently strong, be began and continued to 
K- iBXcrcise it to the last moment of his life. " Stone/^ 
says Dr. Campbell -f-, ** was a man of considerable * 

♦ This see vrsa fotwded by St. Patrick, the apostle of Ire* 
land, m the year 445, and was erected into an archbishopric 
in 1151, by Eugenius III. It extends into five counties, se« 
yenty-five miles in length, and from twelve to thirty-three in 
breiadth. The^ch^ter consists of a dean, precentor, chaii* 
cellor, treasurer, archdeacon, and four prebendaries, with 
eight viears choral. 

A very handsome archiepiscopal palace has been erected in 
^ dty <^ Araugh, by the late pious and learned Lord Primate^ 
Doctor Newcome. The following ill*natured lines wcoe 
written by Octavianus de Palatlo, a Florentine by biitb> vibo 
had imworthily filled that archiepiscopal chau", from 1430 tp 
1413, and who appears to have been as ungratefld to the land 
that gave him iM^ead, as his lying countryman Pcdydore Virgil 
w«6 to that of £ngland> 

Civitas Armachana, 

Ciyitas vana. 

Absque bonis moribus,. / 

Mulieres nudse. 

Games crodae, 

Paupertas in sedibus. 


Armagh is notorious 
For being vainglorious } 
The men void of manners ; their spouses 
Go naked $ they eat 
Raw flesh for their meat. 
And pover^ dwells in their houses, 
t Sie Philosophical Survey of the South of Ireland, p. 56. 

J abilities. 


abtiities, but more of the poliUdan than the pfe<« 
late. He devoted his life to the supporting of a 
party in the Irish parliament* It is said, that 
tvhen he went over to London to' consult the 
gentlemen of the faculty on the state of his health, 
he very candidly said to them, * Look not upon 

* me as an ordinary churchman, or incident totheir 
^diseases, but as a man who has injured hiscon« 

* stitution by sitting up late and rising early, to do 
•.the business of government in Ireland.* After 
he was raised to the metropolitan see, he was 
never known to preach but once, and that was 
before the Duke of Dorset, Lord Lieutenant of 
Iceland, in Christ Church, Dublin, the 23d of 
October X751, being the anniversary of the 
Irish rebellion. As the discourse which he de* 
livered on that occasion was published by his 
Grarc*s special command, an extract from it may 
ndt be unacceptable. 

** * The peace and tranquillity of society is the 
. 'great objedt which all good men have in view; 

* that every member and citizen, all ranks and 
' orders of men, may enjoy their respective rights, 

* the fruits of their industry, and the privileges of 

* ).heir consciences. And certainly, in this view of 

* things, virtuousambhion,'under the government 

* of reason and religion, will teach us to be con- 
' tented within our proper spheres, and to think 

* o.urselves 

tmMihUt imply gn^^ tite praise o6baT»^ 
ingt^^&dfrtbttteA oucfslittse ta the publk good/ 
aisMI ^ billing t}9^dn0 indirect meaM to adTamtff 
oflIW^re« to bigher d^tqes of honour or niftiaK 
enco^ * What must be^ the condttion of a society 
whose tnembera are actuated by ihi^s \and na 
dthidr ambitton F" How far these seatioEients to- 
flUiOced' his own coBduct in general^ must be 
left to» those who^ vriil be at the paim to qompofc^ 
hb actioiii^ jwlth bia words; It i« oa»lessed o» 
all hands, howevcr> that he was not one of tbodcr 
men who waa ^ contented withitt hi$ proper 
spberew*^ .^ 

Tbt blowing Mticte ia copied jfrom a maiiiH 
aoript in the British Museum : 

Leiters to hh Gr^ce tht t>uh of Bedford. 

Waare now coiAe to that period when Dr. 
Stone^ in the flower of youth, was promoted to tb^ 
priniacy, a station to which none before ^m had 
bdeii ^Halted till the decline of life. It is not to 
bo wondered at, that the rapid progress of this 
;^ng ecdesiastic, through the dignities of his 
Qticty and who was now not only at the head of 
the church, with an immense income, but Of the«> 
state, should inspire hirh with notions, and the 
cabal with suspicions, eaeh had hitherto been 
ittratigers to« It was lome time, however, before 
fli^.exteat of his views was discoyered. His 
^ txti.. 1/ cc seeming 


Gwmihg moderation and inofiens^e ^mcfltamir^ 
yciled his -boundless ambition. His entertatok 
ments and connexions were suited to bis youths 
and seemed rather to proceed from motives of 
pleasure than ambition. His courtesy, afiabUity, 
and hospitable table> recommended him univet- 
sally. As yet^ the cabal were not alarmed; and ' 
so long as be made no attempts to intdfermin 
their departments, the business of the H. of C. 
they left him in quiet possession of his new-^aC'f^ 
qnired popularity. 

: By degreea, this young statesman insinuated 
himself into the affections of many of the young, 
an4 some of the old of . the House of Commcms* 
He now began to encourage |Nrivately the mur* 
murs of the people against the soporific qualities 
of the cabal, who stifled all measures that were 
calculated for redressing the national grievances, 
or which might give any rub to the wheels of go- 
vernment, in the track in which they thought it 
proper to have them run. He daily ventured ta 
open his intentions of forming a party in the 
House, at first to a few, and being encouraged by 
Ihem, to all, whom he had any hope of drawing 
to his party. 

These attempts to undermine the long-esta-t 
blished power of the cabal, became soon the ob« 
ject of the penetrating eye» of those experienced 
veterans. Their indignation broke out iato ac-* 

P|aMAT£ iTOVB. ^ 387 

tion> ^tid convinced the youdg adrenturer that 
his scheiUQS were discovered. He> on the oth^r 
hund^ found that it would be to no puxpQpc; 
Itpger to keep measures with them; accordiqg))^. 
the mask was thrown ofF^ war was proclaim€4t> 
in form between the contending powers, and a 
standard was publicly erected, to which all who 
expected preferment in church or state, or who 
were disgusted at the proceedings of the cabal, of 
which there were not a few, were invited tQ 

No ditect acts of hostility had^as yet com- 
menced, and each of the cabal resolved privately 
to try what advantage they could make of the 
Primate*^ power, now become truly formidable, 
from the countenance of the English minister ; 
but they were all deceived in their expectations. 
The Primate's politics flew higher than they 
imagined; he resolved to transfer the manage- 
ment of public business entirely out of their 
bands into his own, and had nothing less in his 
intentions than to suffer any one of them to par- 
ticipate in his administration. 

The Primate formed mighty projects. The 
Cardinals Richelieu and Mazarin were the ob^ 
jects of his admiration and imitation ; and he stu« 
died politics, morality, and divinity, in his fa- 
vourite De Retz. 

He most; of all affected business^, of whicbhe, 

was not incapable. 

c c 2T Tht 

- the Primafe^ when Bishop of Oftijr, pw^ 
nfifled the place df Solicitor Gener^ teethe brdu^ '^ 
tber of Mr. M^Latie, but this wa» surootoanted kl* i 

iAMttt* of Mr. T (, hf the ^atde prelal«ci#i 

dttftiiiction which apologized for the consedt 6# 
Gh^lcs h f o the execution of Lord Strafford; 
•^ At the time he made the promise, he was bti! 
Bishdpef Derry, and in a private stailion ; hh 
l^^vate a!fFection to Mr. M. had induced biuJ to 
xftsike iltitiV promise ; hut now thaf he was at ^ 
head of the state, he was to consider himself ia' 
his public characteif, and to proceed upon pubUc 
principles, not upon private motives, and was 
thefefore bound in conscience to break that prd^ 
mise, which he had made without any view ta 
the public.** 

The Primate has been represented as a txutxk 
devoid of all principles of religion and honout i 
as^a monster swayed by unnaftural appetites. To 
the first of these charges it must be confesSedf, he' 
gave some countenance by a conduct a Httle i6& 
free for a person at the head of an eccle^astical 
body. Having had a liberal education hi^iself,' 
and having always lived with those who lia4> he 
could not confine himself Within thcT narftfur 
sphere of his profession. •••..• ^ •« 
• ••••• «»• »%•*•••• 

He was not always as cautious^ rti IA4 

prdaiise» as piKlence requ«^ ; efM when he 

4 «i 


4Si JOfit promise, Jhis answ^is, firom a (fe^r of 
pffeqdiiig, and a deske of unking every bp(^.t9 
biin^ wece ex|)iressed in such a manner, as 4f!esff 
in l^f ^^^^f^iOO tQ whom they were given, io gue^ 
9t fOfure than h^ meant: a practice often ^ed^ 
statesmeh, but which seems as little s^eeable ,to 
ggod policy, as it is to moraruy. Henoe every 
fa^dy left himtcpntented, and.a5sured of his fmndr 
^p^ CQceivAng all bis expressions of kiipKinos^ 
a3 ^ many absolute promises of what tbey sor 
licited j[t is not, thm, y^ry .^tcaordioary that 
he dKHiM b^ charged witJh many breaches pf 
£^, and that the truth of those aspersjpn^ on ikh 
iiead^t with which he was so bespattece^ s|^)j^ld 

bp atteist^ by many ••>..,► 

Whether from a ccd^- 

ness in his constitution, or, what is more proba* 
}>le,.out of re&pect to his episcopal function, hp 
totally abstained from women. It was impossible, 
in a country which piques itself upon indifi|pen* 
sable attachments to the fair sex, that this should 
npt .be taken notice of, and become a ger^ral 
topic of conversation. His enemies laid hold of 
thisopportuiiity to blacken his character with 
the imputation of a vice, the more easily credited 
» it is the more abominable ; and to which sdtne 
of his cotiheixions, for wbjch the people could 
not eairiily accbimt, did not a little dontribut^- ^ 
V He miade not Hxc advantages 6f his power whidt 
c c 3 might 

39^ YftlMATE STOKE. 

vA^ have been expected ; he advanced info his 
confidence men of moderate abilities, and le89 
leputation. He rewarded the best services by 
leceiving them graciously, and his countenance 
was turned rather to those who were likely to 
do, than to those who had done him services^ 
He was accessible and courteous to all ; but then, 
l)is civilities were not proportioned to the person^ 
and therefore the less regarded ; but what prin* 
cipaliy offended several good men, who were 
well inclined to biogi, was, that he affected to talk 
too lightly of the constitution, and with some ri- 
dicule of public spirit. By these means be ren- 
dered some of those who were most capable of 
fervinghim, at least lukew^fm in^^ if not regardt<» 
]es8 ofy his interest^ 

George (Slone) Bishop of Derty (aftervoards Lordf 
jPrimaie of Ireland) to her Greece th$ Dutchess 
ejf Kenf* 

May 6, i'j4Z^, 

J AM quite ashamed of shewing my ^atitud^ 
and returning n^y thanks to your Qrace for your 
last letter, 8o ?pQ^ after I have been so troij* 
blesome to yoq by an epistle, which nothing but 
yoqr commands could have made pardpnable; 
but I could not resasit the temptation of qoogra;i> 
tulating yoiv Qfacc gn th? rwoy^ry of J*dy 


8{o{>td« -fitm a distemper, wbiefa tMs year has 
beek odtefi fatal, and is always to l>e <}tieaded be* 
fdreit cornels, though generally d^spi^ wheif 
over.'-; ■■" ... '-:.^ 

The letter of Mr. Holyday's to the Bishop of 
Ctbriferiyis printed i'l urillsend it in my next J 
bJ3 Ictlcfr to me is mislaid or destroyed, and only 
^nlaihed an account, that Mr. Price rememberect 
that Mt. Holyday told him of his dream imm€» 
diatibly ; but though I cannot send you a trans* 
cufi of that letter, I will an original, which I n^ 
ceived from him this moment, in whieh yOtik 
Grace will see his opinion and reasomng on thq 
speddi -of the ghost, which 30me * iAdredulouJi 
people have represented as too imperfect tb bet 
brdUght from another world. He is a plain; ho- 
nest, upright man, neither a bigot or super^ti^ 
tidus; yet truly pious. He is one ^^ho thinks 
ihilt fafth in the invisible world, and ilMropet 
which .religion proposes to the'good, iifi$*to far 
from a proof of a weak and credulous mind, that 
he esteems it a sure evidence of reason and im^ 
partiality united. ' He is a good Christian, and A 
good man; a firm believer, and a careful prao 
tiser of all our Lord hath tajHght and comtbanded, 
whose will he studies himself with freedom, and 
is for allowing and encouraging all others, who 
think themselves able, to do so too. If his zeal 
is ever overflowing, it is against the Papists ; and 
c c 4 even 

S9^ fflKATB 9T4»«. 

«v«ll 'enongh knowa, soften ^ic hmwi)tio(i,4M 
UBaatural aevisrky towards themf un^94wfA-t^ 
the genuine mildness of his heart and bis pcijnoi? 
fk^ I de^ribe his^chawcter, that you m«y^ by 
that liglHt the better jq4ge pf:tb9 credit lOf 4^ U»f 
titnony^orrather^ I /should ba^ «aid, h98;^(|gT 
fnont ^ho^t Mr. Holyday's veracity ^o4 tiifSi/t^j' 
mind. H^ knows hmi % nev^ar sMfhim*" ::. ; 
i thanit your Graee for yOvn* jcoocero labGMitroigr 
beatthi I was better last we^k. tbaa I hata boon 
lor ma^y nii^nths ; but the. severe leaiM ."^^iniufo 
jl^ch CQus *«ig€in dreadfully, bijit if tbey spon^^fiMl^ 
Iibope 4o .fitid tb^ ba^e mease &i^htc;9ed*tbAirii;^i» 
luredrnM,-. ■.(./'••., 

. P^rha^ <tbis and my last <eQ0i?mow Itibtrmaf 
l¥ippea io ani^ together ; what a dreadful ta^k 
0f droading hawc you before ytou ! a oonspiauaocM 
pftki^ jgUs im^ wit^ blqjsbes, f[nd ffiak^iine i^nd 
<^is.Je|tQr ,$OQmr than i^y :iiK:liQatk^^peii|»i^ 
(bough fliy duty commaQds, and I 'H aj^^ays^m* 
deavour finst to. reconcile tbegEi ; but if tbat'caor 
liot4>e dooe^ to make this latter govern the ium«i 
ftl)d^b6pe£i^re I hasten ta .sufasorihe mymli^ 
YWT Oraoe's 'iBOdt'obliged^ 

Most dbedicnt, humble servant. 


■^-i .39$ >^ ::;., 

Bishop of Clonfert'to the Bishop of Derty (mffi^ 
'* .^ ^oned'in ihe preceding Letter^ 

l WAS favoured l98t {MM^ ^Uh ymr.: Idtcf, 
which (gave me gr^t;£dea$qr^>^^c{e^Ji;^|^t,fMi^ 
4K^bicI;i;t|audies .upofi, your 411-^ 
, Yoiu ^id i9ot lUeotHiiQ <ii43^4lW yQu *towg?i* Uip 
feilation <tf the spirit .prediM?* For iny p»t^J[ 
cti^tnot withhold iny assent ta it^apd caQ;^/e^ii 
Hatisiftctory r^son why he did i;iot declare QiGinr» 
Had he told his ^ieixl who the nmrdiei^rs were, 
Oliver BodXiQ5 the uncle^ would not have jbeen 
murdered by his own son^ and the son would not 
have been hao^iged for murdering his father. It 
is certain, that both knew of the murder just after 
it was committed, and it is, I think, very pro- 
i>able, that the uncle was privy to the design^ 
^ough nbtafa atttbn ;* 

^1 wish that Pope VDunciad may be4fie1neaiJs 
ct[ a reforniattoiii i not only thfs last, but the bthrer 
^poetical works which he lately published, are ixi 
"some places obscure ; at leasts they are so to me; 

I am^ my dear Lord, 

Xow affectionate brother^ , 

^ Aod pUUig^f humble servaoi; 
J. Cloufbr^t, 

394 fKtUAiz sT^vt. 

To the late Lard, George Germame. 


Leixlip,zst of August tj^^ 

.vi^-i^ I HAiNBi . itbts imotnent received th^ fa* 
voor of your l^ter. I am extremely obliged tb 
jTlMaPfoi'-^ kind part you have acted: it is not 
>tib^^iii'fiff f6i9& to acknowledge it in the man* 
ncr that'* ifidii tt'^ferrfcc descryfli ; wlichfevter it is 
m n^jpoHJi^er/ 1 wiU' certainly it; arid in the 
•meGla time I beg you toi be assured, tbat I think 
myself bound by the ties of justice tad gratitudd^ 
jOr^tH as I am by inclination^ to approve myself 

' ' ' Yoqr faithful friend and dervslnt^ 

,G. Armaok* 

From the same to tie same. ** " 

-■>».-.. ■■ ..;*■." 

'my Vear lorp, r /,. 

• • . . . • . ; .. . . .1 ' . i' 

: I SHOULD not.bav^ been.sp Utcin aq- 
khowledging your very kindan^ friendjiy lettjsi^ 
if i bad not ever since lain in wait fpr an ojpppr^ifi^ 
.ti^ity of writing -to you by ^ safer channel thjin 
^the common post. Uppn. consulting witl^^ C9U 
Inyin, I have struck ;0ut a n^echod, which,, "l 
hope, this letter will prove to be ^ safe one. 

You must have heard, as well as myself, the 
various reports of ruptures, negotiations, reconci- 
liations, and new alliances^ which have of late 
prevailed both in town and country. This day, 


Ihe Duke of B~ wa» >sftid to hav^ Wfuscd at- 
tendance in council ; the next to ha v«' opened a 
communication with Mr. P— •; then Lord 
B — and Mr. P — were afHrmed to be secretly 
connected ; on a sudden^ the Duke of B-^ is 
pacified in temper, if not satisfied in mind : Mr. 
6— r comes to a new explanation with Lord 
B— '9 and each minister takes his former place 
again. Perhaps there have been more ground^ 
for'sdine of these rumours than the world ima*. 
jgines ; but the truth is, lattf resentments, opposite 
eysteflls, and domestic differences, rendering the 
onion of every one of the ministry, with some 
one chief of the minority, very difficult, if not 
quite impracticable, the discontented of the mi- 
nistry have no part left to them but that of ac- 
quiescence. As far as I have been able to learh 
from the information I have here, Mr. P — 
would have been kss averse to Lord B — than hit 
faia ken, if negotiatioii had been tried ; yet such 
is the reciprocal jealousy, and so strong is the 
impression left by the sudden conclusion of tl^ 
former inexplicable treaty, that I doubt, if both 
parties were disposed, whether either would yen- 
ture to propose a second conference As to the 
Duke o£B-*^9 1 do not believe he ever expressed 
the least inclination to talk with Mr.<P— »^ even 
when he most publicly declared his own dissa* 
tisfiiction; and some dircumstances persuade me^ 


rTWDf^ t^^orgif^e IwbrotbQr^ and noite wkh 
;|mi« te:lbi»ictate of tfaing9, 1 fooefiM 9iofi^«d$iy^ 
Jtty <)f afsfomnao^a^on^ and ibr these rieft$oas$ 
Jisiyc alvyays considered Aheeerrepprts n^^iP^ m 
^ ccwdu^pii^ .of busy fipjspfii^sti^ :;^^^ 
,^non|i Uifc ^oa^esa and 4^svHitQ^ visible K»fidz9i- 
^pjf^^/^t^ %n^ igtviog taj*hW:OW|a ccMij^ctu«s 
Jbe st^otp ofrautborUy. ; Xbe^kess of the j^mIe^ 
oCIX^isa cifcumstapop:; Munich has for .^^W^^ 
.finie had great tnflueBc^^ r Ijt^ .41^ I wwh ^je^, 
•ipot wry lifeely to fepo^i^c^, fli»4.tbe cmxijm^m- 
.fedt gins»t ^^[^QfieQueiH^g.cfrqfp bk deMhj:^;;tjjs 
fiifin4s',9»d ;the public rab0i|ld.s»f&r ttii(4t h»* 
j^ioiiQe alrcjadyrfpn^teH, it wouW $et:at liberty lew- 
jRal snd'»¥ii4^1« per^soiwJly fJtfqbed te> jbis iQ«Mie ; 
ff}^ h w^rildrJeaMetteiWhig^i as A partyi witboittt 
j|j:]pal<^ief^ li»d iiistantjy bfiedk tbe.miooiity.iinjbo^ 
^w classes iaod'svfcbdiyi^Bii. ■ / . : •. 

. ,:lf,tQ|i Jhe we hand, f rfoteseew^ posdibiitjMif 
jipcommo^liQD« I ffmsi isajt,:(tbtt^^ ^bccefher^ 
Isee jaailittlfi possibility. tkaAith^i{X£aent;<Binfstiy 
f^20uld .cootinud ; difficult jasitfae iadminitta&lieii 
.^.tbfs Q^nniry is aotr tbecaoDc^^m d^e/stoengtjh 
•of parties, geoeial discboteot, ithe«s]|ate: <9f public 
i^redit^ -attd the x:!0Qidaot.> of iforeigiit o0oi:iB. 
^Tbipg^ therefcMtv, Aipon theiwboie^feaiainknuch 
as^they did nnrliea iiroe >>last ifificjussed tfabmyand 
^4bP$ tbi^y will ^junA for >sime iioae. A& jautoan 



\!^atfeiWtfy, mfetf Will on both sfcfes^ iJej^n toc*-*^ 
plain themselves, aritJ things Will falte soxUtt' 
steitdy settlei!neiif ; ih \ht mcttntvttkd, if ^otr urill 
accept my opinion, it is, that the Duke of B-^ 
aTid Lord B-^aYe itteconcilable : Mr. O— r and, 
Lofd B— trriited ; Mr. P-^ most opetl to Lor* 
B— , and most averse to Mr. G — n andtfed 
cWtrft ready for any accommodation t^hich shoufilt 
contJnae Mr. G — r, and not exclude Lord B^' 
Itti^ h6 itiistakem but this is my idea of tlb 
present state of things. 

I suppose C6L Trwin has told yon how sad* 
4enly the ministers rallied and assembled, lii 
something like a corps, at Wotton, just as the^ 
were said to be upon the point of disbanding. 
Mr. Nugent came from thence to Stowe, and 
from Stowe to me. With me the day passed^ 
like any other of the year, in general and cheer- 
ful conversation; but at Stowe, I believe, he 
meant something more serious, if he had not 
fywd Lord Tctoplc very determined and expli- 
cit. From him we karnt that the Primate had' 
beefl of the congress of Wotton, and I found' 
Lord Temple struck with the manner in whichf 
fiis Grace avoided Stowe. 

i condudeyou have read the counter-address ; 
ttitere are some passages in it very masterly, buf 
j^ general the pkn is not able, nor is the composi- 
fita degant ; tj^e answer is scurrilous and vefy 


398 LETTER. 

illiberal^ yet it tometimes makes a good ase of 
the adversary's indiscretioos. 
. Col. Irwin has left Stow^ but his lady re* 
mains a hostage for his return. I have bad the 
pleasure ^f meeting him frequently, and should 
have passed a merry day with him on Monday 
last» if Nugent, after making the appointment, 
bad not fled the country. He went through this 
singular tour with great dexterity, and seemed 
cheerful and at ease when most men wouM hayQ 
been distressed. 

Thus I have endeavoured to make you the best 
return I can for the very agreeable letter I re* 
ceived from you* 

To our very loving Friends^ the Flce-chancelTor^, and 

other Officers of the University of Cambridge. 

AFTER our very hearty commendations: 
Whereas the Queen^s Majesty hath been inform* 
cd, that in this time of scarcity and dearth, nei* 
ther is the market of the town and university of 
Cambridge so furnished of corn as were neces- 
sary, nor yet, that little which is brpught thither 
so ordered and bestowed as were convenient, but 
is suffered to be bought and conveyed from 
thence by badgers, and others of that sort. lake 
as we have presently written unto certain justices 
of the peace of that county of Cambridge, to 



c^Qse the market of the university - to be from 
henceforth better furnished (as by the copy of. 
otu? said letter, \ifhich we send upto you here- 
with, ye may at better length perceive), so have 
we thought meet, in the King and Queen's Mar 
jesty's names to require you to fore3eey th^t ?^5^- 
corn as shall be brought thilher, be not conveyed 
from thence by badgers, or any other, until the 
victuallers of the town and university shall be 
^sufiicicntly furnished ; wherein, nevertheless, ye 
must, in any wise, give diligent heed, that thaxi 
be no fraud or deceit used. And so fare ye welL 
From Greenwich, the 3d day of January 155 6* 
Your loving friendes, 

NicH. Ebor. CancelL 
Will. Howard^ 
T. Ely. 
Will. Peters. 
Jo. Bourn. 
T. Warton. 


See Act of the 2d and 3 J of Philip and Mary. 

From Cardinal Norfolk to the Vice-chancellor^ 
the Regents, and Non-regents, of the University 
of Cambridge. 
MY very loving friends, 

AFTER my very hearty commendations : By 
your letters I understand your request, which is, 


460 "LtrrtK l^OKt CARDTNAi:. nfottotit. 

that of the variance lafely arisen' betvt^een tti6' 
townehippe of Cambridge and yeu^ I wooldf 
Hot credit the one tiH the other were heafdy fe*** 
ftrring the report of your cause to the bringer of 
your letters. You shall therefore be advertysed^- 
that I woaMbe as glad of both your quietness^ as^ 
I am indifferent to hear both yonre controversies; 
and because I have no mistrust but that some 
gpod order shall be taken therein^ I otoly wish 
you to give none occasion of extremity to them^^ 
and have advised them to regard the like towards 
you ; the which, in my opinion, is the only way 
to concord ; the which to preserve between youy 
I should be as ready as any friend you have. 
And 60 I bid you most heartily farewell. From 
my house at Kenyng Hall, the 6th September 


Your loving friend, 



UPON the late advertisement which I re- 
ceived from your worthy Vice-chancellor (most 
reverend Fathers, and my worthy friends and 
companions) of a new election since the receipt 
of the King's letter, I must acknowledge a very 
great astonishment by comparing your unchaoge-- 
able affections with my unworthyness : for that 


hiatiy of you can witness with what earnest in- 
dustry and desire I endeavoured to divert your 
eyes from that dark object which I found to be 
so deeply fixed in your constant thoughts^ pre- 
ferring in this point your good to mine. . Yet 
since it is your pleasure with so great grace and 
favour to cast yourselves into the armes of one 
whose love does so far surmount his ability to 
requite so cordial a demonstration of a resolute 
intent, it behoves me now to be so cautclous ia 
the course which I am driven to hold between 
Scylla and Charibdis, that, in eschewing over- 
earnestly the quicksandes of the late invention 
to crosse, I runne not wilfully upon the rock of 
ingratitude, and so perish. 

God himself can witness with my soule (I 
dare not say how unwillingly), considering the 
deep interest you hold in my poor service ; but 
yet I may be bold to say how fearfully, regard- 
ing my own want of worth, I take into my hands 
that helme by which my duty calls me to the 
steering of that stately vessel which affords to 
England richer and far greater treasures than ei- 
ther those that came from Ophir in the days of 
Solomon, or in our days from the Philippines, 
by as many measures and degrees as the Queen 
of the South held Solomon to be greater, more 
glorious and powerful, in the wisdom which 
was infused by God, than in the wealth he re- 
ceived by commerce and traffic, from those fo- 
voL. I. n D reign 


reign states, that imparted not so much out of 
aftcction as tbey exchanged upon necessity. 

Some things I confess do comfort me more 
than I can deliver^ and do ease a great part of 
the burthen that a man must undergo, that in 
this charge seeks to give due satisfaction to your 
desert, or his own duty. The first is the great 
value which it halh pleased you out of your 
abundant grace to set upon your servant, that 
one out of humour could not have sought to be 
so great and eminent, as by election you have 
esteemed him. In the next place I accompt the 
quickening of those poor faculties, which I re- 
ceived from nature by your gracious encourage- 
ment, to construe and interpret in the best part 
whatsoever error may commit or negligence 
omitt in discharge of the trust that is left to me. 
To these I add a happiness which the poets at- 
tribute to Jason, sayling in a ship which in re- 
spect of resolulion and skill was said to contain 
as many persons lit to be masters as it held ma-j 
riners. I must not forget another obligation as 
great as any of the rest in my own reckoning, 
that is, in making the world see by so clear an 
evidence in your opinion in what sort I behaved 
myself in that place during my non-age whilst I 
was a scholar, whome in my white age you have 
esteemed neither unworthy nor unfit to be your 

But the thing which joys me most of all is the 
^4 circumstance 


circumatancc *of time present falling out under 
the blessed reign of the most learned King, the 
best experienced, the most just, the most sweety 
the most deeply judging, the most eloquent, and 
significantly uttering, the most judicious in 
esteeming worth, the most bountiful in reward- 
ing deserts, the most tender of your privileges 
and liberties, the most sensitive of your vexa- 
tion and wrongs, that ever wore the crown of so 
powerful a monarchy. In other ^princes times, 
men held it a great fortune, if youre names were 
only sounded in those sacred ears by gracious re- 
ports, with a kind of preparation for your future 
good : but our deare Sovereign knows many^ 
hears many, loves all, and out of his deep judg- 
ment, without respect unto recommendation, 
alone prefers persons of laudable deserts to pro- 
portions of more or less, as occasions occur, to 
places that are fit for them. 

Wherefore since my heart which was be- 
stowed on you could not return to me upon the 
first election, and by the next election the way 
is now laid open by your favour so redou- 
bled, as I may come to it, my greatest care and 
study shall be, after this my cordial and grateful 
acknowledgment of so confident a zeal, so to 
dispose my whole endeavours and desires, as rhy 
heart and I, thus fastened by the binding knot of 
your inestimable love, during the time of ipy life, 
shall never part again. 



It remains Ibcn for a fair exchange between 
terms and acts, that I, your chancellor, and, by 
consequence, under his Majesty, your head, 
obey, and that you, the, worthy members of that 
same graceful body (though subordinate), com- 
mand, sith nothing can fall fitly within the com- 
pass of your discrectc deserts, that shall not con- 
sequently fall within the list of my devotion. 
God bless youre studies, increase youre comforts, 
and rev(rard youre pains ; and grant that I may 
but once, in some such measure, express my 
thankfulness, as you have declared your con- 

From the Court at Whitehall, the 13th of 
June 1612. 

Your affectionate, constant. 
And thankful friend, to do you service, 

H. Northampton. 
Ex MSS. Call Coll. Cant. 
See Lord Brooke's Five Years of Kijng James ; 
Strype's Life of Archbishop Grindall; Bishop 
Hacket's Life of Archbishop Williams. 


S. GosNELL, Printer, 
• Little Queen Street, Holborot