that society alone:-Dr. Simson, the author of the Chronology, who had been Hacket's tutor, Dr. Meredith, James Duport, one of the most elegant Grecians of his age, H. Thorndike, Dr. Creichton, Dr. Fearn, M. A. Scattergood, &c. But Williams' patronage of deserving men was not limited to the distribution of the preferments in his gift; for many years he expended annually, in the support of poor students at the University, the sum of twelve hundred pounds; an instance of princely munificence, of which our literary history contains few examples. His own industry was intense and unwearied. He succeeded Lord Bacon in the Chancellorship, and applied himself with so much determination to the despatch of business, that he came into court two hours before day, "so as to be obliged to sit by candle-light." Here he remained till eight or nine o'clock, when his duties as Speaker called him to the House of Lords. His public occupations were rarely ended before the evening, and the greater portion of the night he devoted to his private studies. Hacket tells us he seldom retired to rest before three o'clock, and was ready to resume his employments at seven. From his political life truth might gather many shadows for this picture, but on that painful passage in his history, it is not necessary for me to dwell. I would rather remember him as the friend of Herbert, than the enemy of Laud.

In the April of 1626 Lord Bacon died, and Herbert wrote an Epigram on the event.

IN OBITUM INCOMPARABILIS FRANCISCI VICECOMITIS SANCTI ALBANI, BARONIS VERULAMII.

Dum longi lentiq; gemis sub pondere morbi,
Atq; hæret dubio tabida vita pede;
Quid voluit prudens fatum jam sentio tandem,
Constat Aprile uno te potuisse mori :
Ut flos hinc lacrymis, illinc Philomela querelis
Deducant linguæ funera sola tuæ.

These pretty conceits were not worthy of the poet or his friend. Upon the private life of Bacon, no admirer of his works will love to linger. We scarcely recognise the antagonist of Aristotle in the parasite of Villiers. The philosopher's letters to that profligate courtier are replete with the most ingenious sycophancy; and his treatment of his early patron, Lord Essex, has left a cloud upon his memory which his fame cannot disperse. But under whatever aspect we view him, in the season of prosperity, the honoured servant of his sovereign, or in the "solitude of friends," and under the "ashes of his fortune*," his life is full of painful, yet salutary instruction. It teaches us that no genius, however mighty, no acquirements, however varied, will be productive of any real or lasting benefit to their possessor, unless tempered by virtue, and directed by religion.

The death of Bacon was speedily followed by a far severer bereavement. Lady Danvers died in 1627; her health had been declining for several years, having never perfectly recovered from the effects of the illness, during which Herbert addressed to her the beautiful letter printed in a former page. Her funeral sermon was preached by Dr. Donne, with whom she became acquainted while residing at Oxford with her eldest son, and who had before celebrated her virtues in one of his poems:

Nor spring, nor summer beauty has such grace,
As I have seen in an autumnal face.

To the sermon are annexed some Latin and Greek verses, by Herbert, to the memory of his mother. Bitterly as he felt the loss, the affectionate child found comfort in the remembrance of his filial tenderness and meek obedience to her who was taken from him. His perverseness had never driven sleep from her pillow; his unkindness had

*His own words in a letter, I think, to Lord Dorset.

never drawn the tears from her eyes; thus the house of mourning lost half its gloom. Lady Danvers was buried in Chelsea Church, and without any monument *.

Soon after her death he resigned the Oratorship in favour of his friend, Robert Creichton.

In 1629, being seized with a sharp quotidian ague, he removed, for change of air, to the house of his brother Henry, at Woodford, in Essex. Sir Henry Herbert, who had acquired the graces of a courtier at Paris, was Gentleman of the King's Privy Chamber, and Master of the Revels. At Woodford our poet remained twelve months. The lines in his poem entitled Affliction may have been written while at this place.

At first thou gav'st me milk and sweetness,

I had my wish and way;

My days were strewn with flowers and happiness,
There was no month but May:

But with my years, sorrow did twist and grow,
Sickness clave my bones,

Consuming, agues dwell in every vein..

In the hope of escaping from the consumptive symptoms that still threatened him, he visited Dauntsey, in Wilts., the seat of his relative the Earl of Danby, who entertained a sincere regard for the poet. The “choice air," aided by exercise and rural amusements, improved his health, and the long-cherished intention of devoting himself to the ministry was renewed in his heart. His singular marriage hastened this desired event. Between Herbert and Mr. Charles Danvers, of Bainton, an intimate friendship had subsisted for several years, and Mr. Danvers had been frequently heard to express a wish that he would marry any one of his nine daughters, but particu

*In the burial place in the church at Montgomery (belonging to the Castle) is a great free-stone monument to Richard Herbert, Esq., where are the effigies of himself and his wife Magdalene, afterwards married to Sir John Danvers, who lies interred at Chelsea church, without any monument.-Aubrey.

larly Jane, who was her father's favourite. Nothing so much disposes us to admire an individual as the praises of those we love, and it must have been from this cause that Jane Danvers "became so much a Platonic as to fall in love with Mr. Herbert unseen." This romantic incident happened fortunately for their union, for when Herbert arrived at Dauntsey, his friend was no more. The lovers were, however, introduced to each other by the kind offices of their friends, and Jane Danvers "changed her name into Herbert, the third day" after the first interview. This lady was a kinswoman of Aubrey, who says she was "a handsome bona-roba and generose.' Bona-roba was one of the worthy antiquary's choicest phrases, and he applied it to the lovely Venetia Stanley, whose charms have been preserved by the pencil of Vandyke, and the pen of Ben Jonson. But he seems not to have understood the meaning of the word.

In the April of 1630, Herbert was suddenly deprived, by death, of his kind relation, William Earl of Pembroke. The name of this nobleman is embalmed in the eloquent sketch of Clarendon, and has long been associated with all that is honourable in the poetical history of the reign of James the First. He was an infant when his uncle, Sir Philip Sidney, died; but the groves of Penshurst were his frequent haunt, and within his view was the palace of Knowle, where the Wizard, Buckhurst, had called up the " terrific phantoms of his sombre and magnificent poetry." The son of "Sidney's sister," on whose lips the name of Spenser must have been a familiar word, could not but be a poet, at least in sentiment. Had he been less elevated in rank, his genius might have grown into loftier stature. His poems are only trifles, from the hand of an elegant courtier; but his memory will not die, until Ben Jonson shall be forgotten.

Herbert could not have parted from Cambridge after

a residence of nearly nineteen years, without regret. Never had the university been the home of more beloved and gifted children since the time when Spenser pursued his "sweet silent studies" in the quiet of Pembroke Hall. He had gazed on faces whose lustre has not yet faded into the common day. At Christ's there was Milton, the "Lady of his college*;" the courtly Fanshaw, the translator of the Pastor Fido, was a member of Jesus; Jeremy Taylor, then a beautiful youth, was a poor Sizer of Caius; Herrick enlivened St. John's with his festivity and wit; Giles Fletcher was at Trinity, and his brother Phineas at King's; the names of the celebrated Calamy, and the historian Fuller, even in his boyhood a prodigy of learning; and Mede, the profoundest Scripture critic of the age; and many more, might be added to the list.

Herbert's friends were not unmindful of his interest, and on the promotion of Dr. Curle from the rectory of Bemerton to the Bishopric of Bath and Wells, Philip Earl of Pembroke, to whom Herbert was Chaplaint, requested the King to "bestow the living upon his kinsman." "Most willingly to Mr. Herbert, if it be worthy of his acceptance," was the monarch's answer. We know

that, in the subsequent imprisonment of the King, the poems of Herbert were his constant companions; these, with the Bible, the works of Sandys, Hooker, and one or two other books, composed his library in Carisbrook Castle.

But Herbert, who, like his friend Dr. Donne, was painfully alive to the deep responsibility of the duties he was about to take upon him, had almost determined to decline the "priesthood and that living;" when his old and dear friend, Mr. Woodnot, came to see him at Bainton, where he was staying with his wife's relations, and they went + Aubrey.

*So called on account of his beauty.