breast and shoulders, but the mercy of the Almighty, in whom he had put his trust, brought him out of this great danger. The ominous spots, however, continued for some time upon his body. The plague having attained its height, began to decline; the number of deaths diminished daily, and before the winter was ended, the citizens had returned to their homes, and Another brood Soon filled the houses which unpeopled stood.-Canto 5. John Fletcher, the dramatic poet, perished in this pestilence. He had been invited to accompany a gentleman, "of Norfolk or Suffolk," into the country, and only remained in London while a suit of clothes was being made; but before it was completed, he fell sick of the plague, and died. We are indebted for this anecdote to Aubrey, who had it from Fletcher's tailor. I may add the name of Thomas Lodge, who is supposed to have been removed by the same calamity. He was a physician in the reign of Queen Elizabeth, and Philips, in the Theatrum Poetarum, calls him " one of the writers of those pretty old songs and madrigals which were very much the strain of those times." Lodge, perhaps, deserves higher praise. A sweet and serious vein of feeling runs through some of his poems, particularly Old Damon's Pastoral. It is impossible to contemplate the conduct of Wither, during this season of grief and suffering, without a feeling of admiration and respect. Beneath the power of a frightful pestilence, human life was poured out like water. The strength of youth, to use the noble language of Quarles*, was no privilege against it; the soundness of a constitution was no exemption from it; the sovereignty of * Prayers and Meditations. drugs could not resist it; where it listed it wounded, and where it wounded it destroyed. The rich man's coffers could not bribe it; the skilful artist could not prevail against it; the black magician could not charm it. In the midst of all these perils the Christian poet dwelt serene and undisturbed; throughout the continuance of the plague he never removed from the centre of infection, "the distance of a mile." Yet the arrow flew harmlessly past him by day, the terror did not strike him in the night. He knew that an arm was around him which never wearied, and an eye watching over him which never slumbered nor slept. The passages quoted from Britain's Remembrancer contain some vivid sketches of the city of the plague. We behold the poet wandering, in the uncertain twilight, among the forsaken walks of the town, and almost hear, so naturally does he bring the scene before us, the heavy fall of his lingering footsteps along the grass-grown streets, and the creaking of the shutters of some deserted house as they moved to and fro in the midnight wind. Many affecting stories might be added to those already given. The picture of the anxious wife listening to every sound during the absence of her husband, and starting up in terror if any one "knocked or called in haste," is a copy from nature. After the publication of Britain's Remembrancer, we lose sight of Wither until 1631, when we find him assisting the Rev. William Bedwell in the publication of the Tournament of Tottenham. Warton, who in his History of Poetry particularly mentions this old poem, has omitted to state that it was published from a MS. communicated by Wither; but Bedwell, in the epistle to the reader, confesses the obligation. "It is now," he says, "seven or eight years since I came to the sight of the copy, and that by the means of the worthy and my much honoured good friend, Mr. Ge. Wither; of whom also, now at VOL. I. L length I have obtained the use of the same: and because the verse was then by him, a man of exquisite judgment in this kind of learning, much commended, * * as also for the thing itself, I thought it worth the while, especially at idle times, to transcribe it, and for the honour of the place to make it public." This was written in the March of 1631. Bedwell was the Rector of Tottenham, to which he had been presented by Bishop Andrews, whom he calls his honourable good Lord and Patron*. He was also one of the translators of the Bible, and an able Oriental scholar. He bequeathed some valuable Arabic MSS. to the University of Cambridge, illustrated by numerous original notes, together with a set of types to print them t. Of the Tournament, which seems to have been a serio-comic satire upon the chivalrous follies of the fourteenth century, Warton has given a sufficient specimen. About this time, according to John Taylor, Wither was steward to Dr. Howson, Bishop of Durham; and the Water-poet, who, after Wither's secession from the King's cause, never ceased to regard him with great displeasure, accuses him of having applied to his own purposes the funds of that Prelate. I have not been able to discover the slightest allusion to this circumstance in any other writer, nor does Wither anywhere refer to the connexion. The story altogether is highly improbable, and unworthy of credit. Dr. Howson only enjoyed the See of Durham from September 28th, 1628, to February * In the dedication of the Kalendarium Viatorium Generale, 1614. Smith's MSS., quoted in Dyer's History of the University of Cambridge. To Durham's reverend Bishop thou wast cater, Thou cheat'st the Bishop of five hundred pound. Aqua-Muse, p. 5, 1644. 6th, 1631-2, and his steward, therefore, whoever he was, did not long reap the benefit of his malpractices. At length, remembering that he had long since vowed a pilgrimage to the Queen of Bohemia as soon as he had a present worthy of her acceptance, Wither set out for Holland with his version of the Psalms, in his "own esteem the best jewel" he possessed. This unfortunate Princess, whose talents and virtues were not more fitted to adorn prosperity than to cheer and alleviate the sorrows of an adverse fortune, was then seeking to dispel the gloom of her situation by the amusements of her garden and her books. Holland, in the earlier part of the seventeenth century, abounded in scholars, and the sequestered court of Elizabeth made up in brilliancy of intellect what it wanted in splendour of outward circumstances. Among its principal luminaries were Gerard Vorst, the painter; the illustrious Descartes, who, weary of his voluntary banishment at Amsterdam, had taken up his residence in the village of Egmond, from whence he made frequent visits to the Queen, to whose eldest daughter, Elizabeth, he dedicated his Principia Philosophiæ; and Anna Schurman, "the gem of Utrecht," a poet, a sculptor, an engraver, and a linguist. Wither, in his praise of the Queen, only spoke the sentiments of all who knew her; and when he said that she "had conquered a kingdom in the hearts of many millions of people," he probably remembered the appellation of "Queen of Hearts," which the affection of those among whom she lived had bestowed upon her. But his gratitude led him too far; the parallel between the misfortunes of the Queen and those of the Psalmist, might have been omitted with advantage. His translation was printed in the Netherlands in 1632, in a very neat form. The merits of the work scarcely bear a just proportion to the toil expended on it; the diction is generally clear and simple, and the versification easy and harmonious, yet it can only be viewed as a moderate improvement upon preceding efforts. The most gifted labourer in this Sacred Vineyard should only hope for qualified success; and the highest meed in the power of the critic to award, seems to be the praise of having done best what "no one can do well*." Sidney, Spenser, and Milton, have each adventured in this difficult path. The Psalms of Spenser are lost: those of Sidney contain some sweet lines; while the specimens given by Milton, with a single exception, do not rise beyond the strain of Hopkins. Wither obtained for his Psalms a patent, conferring on him the privilege of having them bound up with all Bibles; but the opposition of his old enemies, the stationers, was not exhausted. The following extract from a MS. lettert, supposed to be addressed by Edward Rossingham to Sir Thomas Puckering, on the 23rd of January, 1633, throws an interesting light on this subject. "Upon Friday last, Wither, the English poet, convented before the Board all or most of the stationers of London. The matter is this: Mr. Wither hath, to please himself, translated our singing psalms into another verse, which he counts better than those the Church hath so long used, and therefore he hath been at the charge to procure a patent from his Majesty under the Broad Seal, that his translation shall be printed and bound to all Bibles that are sold. The stationers refusing to bind them, and to sell them with the Bible, (the truth is, nobody would buy the Bible with such a clog at the end of it,) and because some of them stood upon their guard, and would not suffer Mr. Wither with his officers to come into * Johnson. In the British Museum, communicated by Mr. D'Israeli to Sir Egerton Brydges. |
