if I find myself too much endangered, to retire from it with innocence. But if you can say so little in commendation of mankind, how will you prove these histories to be vicious, which, if they do not describe real life, give us an idea of a better race of beings than now inhabit the world?"

"It is of little importance, Madam," replied the Doctor, "to decide whether in the real or fictitious life most wickedness is to be found. Books ought to supply an antidote to example, and if we retire to a contemplation of crimes, and continue in our closets to inflame our passions, at what time must we rectify our words, or purify our hearts? The immediate tendency of these books, which your ladyship must allow me to mention with some severity, is to give new fire to the passions of revenge and love; two passions which, even without such powerful auxiliaries, it is one of the severest labours of reason and piety to suppress, and which yet must be suppressed if we hope to be approved in the sight of the only Being whose approbation can make us happy. I am afraid your ladyship will think me too serious."

"I have already learned too much from you," said Arabella, "to presume to instruct you; yet suffer me to caution you never to dishonour your sacred office by the lowliness of apologies."

"Then let me again observe," resumed he, "that these books soften the heart to love, and harden it to murder; that they teach women to exact vengeance, and men to execute it; teach women to expect not only worship, but the dreadful worship of human sacrifices. Every page of these volumes is filled with such extravagance of praise and expressions of obedience as one human being ought not to hear from another; or with accounts of battles, in which thousands are slaughtered for no other purpose than to gain a smile from the haughty beauty, who sits a calm spectatress of the ruin and desolation, bloodshed and misery, incited by herself. It is impossible to read these tales without lessening part of that humility, which, by preserving in us a sense of our alliance with all human nature, keeps us awake to tenderness and sympathy, or without impairing that compassion which is implanted in us as an incentive to acts of kindness. If there be

any preserved by natural softness, or early education, from learning pride and cruelty, they are yet in danger of being betrayed to the vanity of beauty, and taught the arts of intrigue. Love, Madam, is, you know, the business, the sole business, of ladies in romances."

Arabella's blushes now hindered him from proceeding as he had intended. "I perceive," continued he, "that my arguments begin to be less agreeable to your ladyship's delicacy; I shall therefore insist no longer upon false tenderness of sentiment, but proceed to those outrages of the violent passions which, though not more dangerous, are more generally hateful."

"It is not necessary, Sir," interrupted Arabella, "that you strengthen by any new proof a position which when calmly considered cannot be denied; my heart yields to the force of truth, and I now wonder how the blaze of enthusiastic bravery could hinder me from remarking with abhorrence the crime of deliberate unnecessary bloodshed. I begin to perceive that I have hitherto at least trifled away my time, and fear that I have already made some approaches to the crime of encouraging violence and revenge."

"I hope, Madam," said the good man with horror in his looks, "that no life was ever lost by your incitement."

Arabella, seeing him thus moved, burst into tears, and could not imme

diately answer. "Is it possible," cried the Doctor, "that such gentleness and elegance should be stained with blood?"

"Be not too hasty in your censure," said Arabella, recovering herself, "I tremble indeed to think how nearly I have approached the brink of murder, when I thought myself only consulting my own glory; but, whatever I suffer, I will never more demand or instigate vengeance, nor consider my punctilios as important enough to be balanced against life."

The Doctor confirmed her in her new resolutions, and, thinking solitude was necessary to compose her spirits after the fatigue of so long a conversation, he retired to acquaint Mr. Glanville with his success, who in the transport of his joy was almost ready to throw himself at his feet, to thank him for the miracle, as he called it, that he had performed.

Memorials of the great Civil War in England, from 1646 to 1652; edited from Original Letters in the Bodleian Library. By Henry Cary, M.A. 2 vols. 8vo.

THIS is one of the most important historical works published for some years past; important, not as presenting new lights" calculated to amuse and mislead the general reader, but as adding to the materials for English history a collection of valuable papers relating to a period which is universally interesting. All our fashionable historical works sink into their natural insignificance, upon comparison with Mr. Cary's unpretending but really valuable volumes.

The letters here published are derived from originals in the collection of MSS. which formerly belonged to Bishop Tanner, and are now in the Bodleian. They are partly of historical and partly of biographical interest, the latter relating indirectly to public affairs, but principally to the life and fortunes of Archbishop Sancroft.

The period within which the letters range commenced with the King's leaving Oxford and putting himself into the power of the Scots at Newark, and closed with the confusion which terminated in the advance of Cromwell to the Protectorate. It embraced the great events of the surrender of Charles by the Scots, his unsuccessful - attempts at an arrangement with the parliament, the interference of the army, the king's execution, the parliament's victories in Ireland and Scotland, and Charles II's escape from Worcester. All these events are more or less illustrated in the volumes before us, and some of them are substantiated and explained with a power and clear ness which can only be found in the testimony of intelligent eye-witnesses.

The private papers-those, that is, which relate to Sancroft and his friends, possess considerable interest, and especially because they show the feelings and prejudices of a respectable cavalier family, and the way in which GENT. MAG. VOL. XXI,

its members were affected both in mind and estate by the public troubles. Some of them are of a pathetic turn, some mock-heroic, whilst others are satirical. When the Royalists failed against the parliament men in the field, Cromwell's nose became a grand point of attack, and one of Sancroft's correspondents is very humourous upon the subject.

"One, in discourse about the Lord's

the

anointed, stuck not to say, he thought Cromwell the very same. (This was in 1650.) 'And shall that oily nose at last go for the Lord's anointed? No, we have better terms to express so much desert by. It is the saints' minimum quoddam naturale; a Nol-with-the-whisp. commonwealth's noli me tangere, that which people rather gaze at than delight in, and wherewith they are mastered, like a company of jackdaws in the night at sight of a torch; were that quenched they would be at their nest again. It is Samson's foxes' firebrands, and all beaten together into an intolerable nose, the devil's breeches turned wrong side upwards, and clapped by mischance to the general's face. But flies must not be too bold with the candle for scalding their wings: it is, God knows what; and, do what I can, I must leave it the same I found it." (II. 226.)

Sancroft pictures Cromwell's mind rather than his appearance, and truly, if the future Archbishop's character of the Protector was an accurate one, his copper-nose was not the worst thing about him.

"We know his method well enough; namely, by courteous overtures to cajole and charm all parties when he goes upon a doubtful service, and as soon as it is over to his mind to crush them.

I like him worse when he is stealing of hearts with Absalom, than when he is lopping off heads like John of Leyden; accounting the devil far more dangerous in the serpent than in the lion." (II.25.)

These are the representations, probably the misrepresentations, of prejudiced adversaries; but listen to the man himself, and mark at once the superiority which his forcible lines seem to indicate, in spite of the colour

H

of his nose. After writing to the Speaker a detailed account of his successes in Ireland, he thus proceeds:

"Sir, what can be said of these things? Is it an arm of flesh that doth these things? Is it the wisdom and counsel or strength of men? It is the Lord only. God will curse the man and his house that dares to

think otherwise. Sir, you see the work is done by a divine leading: God gets into the hearts of men, and persuades them to come under you. I tell you, a considerable part of your army is fitter for an hospital than the field. If the enemy did not know it, I should have held it impolitic to have writ it. They know it, yet they know not what to do.” (II. 202.)

Read also the manly lines with which he transmits to the Speaker a petition forwarded to himself, the contents of which related to "justice and faith-keeping," and the performance of an agreement to which "the word and faith of the army" were engaged. "If he," says Cromwell, "desires that which is not just and honourable for you to grant, I shall willingly bear blame for this trouble, and be glad to be denied; but if it be just and honourable, and tends to make good the faith of your servants, I take the boldness then to pray he may stand or fall according to that; and this desire, I hope, is in faithfulness to you, and will be so judged."

In this straightforward style the Protector's despatches were generally penned, as the volumes before us amply prove, although his letters are neither the least known, nor the most numerous, nor the most valuable portion of their contents.

The advice given to Charles I. by the bishops, whom he consulted in reference to his conscientious scruples as to the overthrow of episcopacy, and the application of church lands to secular uses, is here shewn by a letter from Bishops Juxon and Duppa, dated Oct. 4, 1646, in which the king is clearly told, that, in their opinion, without breach of his coronation oath, or trespass in point of conscience, he might consent to a temporary "exercise of the Directory for worship and practice of discipline." In the following year, in consequence of a proposal made to the king for a general toleration in religious matters, the opinions of several of the bishops were taken upon the question, whether, upon a

necessity of state, a Christian prince might lawfully tolerate other religions, so as to bind himself not to punish any subject for the exercise of any of them. We have here the opinions of Bishop Skinner and Archbishop Usher in favour of such toleration, under the circumstances supposed. Bishop Warner, of Rochester, was also consulted, but his answer simply amounted to the intimation of his willingness to be of any opinion that might please the king (i. 346); and Bishop Morton, of Durham, sent an answer, the tenor of which does not

appear.

But the most valuable opinion upon the questions of conscience upon ecclesiastical matters, with which Charles I. seems to have been troubled, is contained in a very long letter of Jeremy Taylor's, which, in spite of a great deal of sophistical pedantry, contains much practical wisdom. In some of his conclusions, respecting the alienation of church lands by the state, we could not concur; but the following simple sentence contains a commonsense view of the obligation of the coronation oath which has been generally overlooked, even down to very recent times.

"The king's oath binds him to maintain the rights of the church as it ties him to defend the laws; which he is to defend so long as they are in being, but not bound against all changes, popular petitions, necessities and emergencies, to preserve their being." (II. 99.)

The same great writer in this remarkable paper expresses also an opinion upon another important ecworthy of being pondered. clesiastical subject, which is well

"I consider that God is not always best served by the richest clergy; that our entailed it upon his church by his doctrine blessed Lord commends poverty, and and example; that he speaks so harshly of riches, that himself was once put to it to expound the meaning of his words; and yet, after that, his Apostles, when they received the spirit of Christ, still prosecuted the words of Christ against riches. I add, that, although lands are not easy to be had, yet the Apostles parted with them, and put the sequel to God's providence." (II. 95.)

It is extraordinary, and presents a somewhat melancholy picture of the

character of Charles, to find that, although his conscience was so tender upon these questions of ecclesiastical government, he could yet quibble, and what in ordinary life would be termed shuffle, with the solemn obligation of his own given word. An instance of this occurred whilst he was at Carisbrooke, if the facts here stated are to be depended upon. Charles had passed his royal word that he would not go out of the Isle of Wight during a treaty with certain commissioners, nor for 28 days afterwards. It was, however, whispered to Hammond, the governor of Carisbrooke castle, that the placing guards round the king might be construed by him to make his engagement void. He accordingly, in the presence of the commissioners," pressed the king * * to declare whether he made any such question; if so, that he would please to utter it.' Now here was a plain question put to the king with a soldierlike frankness. A clear candid mind would have dictated an immediate and certain reply; a splitter of straws might indulge doubts, and endeavour to shield himself under ambiguities and refined distinctions. Hammond relates the conduct of the King thus :

"He seeming somewhat surprised, desired time to consider it, professing not to have thought on it before. But I, perceiving the danger of such a reserve, pressed with greater earnestness to a clear declaration of himself on the point, telling him that otherwise his parole signified nothing, and desired his positive answer as the case now stood with him. His

majesty avoided it long. I then told him, if the centinels at his door (I having kept no other since the engagement of his word) were offensive to him, and would absolutely clear him in that question he seemed to make scruple, they should be taken off, (they being only set to keep off people from pressing into his lodgings,) and placed at a further distance with the guard which is kept to preserve his majesty's person from violence; assuring him I only depended upon his word, which the parliament had pleased to accept, for his not removing out of the island. He told me, it would be then more clear, and that four or five several times: at length, upon my importunity, not being to be satisfied with a doubtful answer, he concluded himself to be obliged by his parole, if the said centinels were taken away; which I then promised him should be

done before the commissioners, and accordingly it was immediately observed." (II. 55.)

It was almost immediately after this transaction that Cromwell declared of the King in the House of Commons, "that he was so great a dissembler, and so false a man, that he was not to be trusted."

In the brief notice of a work of this kind to which we are limited, by the small space we can devote to it, it is impossible to do more than to express a general opinion of its value, and give one or two examples of its contents. The passages we have already quoted are sufficient for this purpose, and are indeed fair specimens of the nature of the documents here printed, but we will give one more, relating to the heroic Earl of Derby, husband of the equally heroic Charlotte de la Tremouille, who was a grandaughter of the great Prince of Orange ("Father William," as he is still called in Holland), and through him connected with a race of heroes. When the Earl of Derby was captured after the battle of Worcester, the parliament did not forget the terms in which he had refused to deliver up the Isle of Man, and the noble loyalty to his sovereign which he had at all times evinced, "I scorn your proffer, I disdain your favour, I abhor your treasons; and am so far from delivering up this island to your advantage, that I shall keep it with the utmost of my power to your destruction." These were the terms of his scornful rejection of Ireton's summons to surrender his impregnable island, and his whole conduct during the war was in keeping with it. But times were now altered. Once in the power of the successful rebels he was tried by a courtmartial, and received sentence to die at Bolton in Lancashire, a place where he was extremely unpopular, in consequence of being accused of having had a share in some barbarities acted there by the army of Prince Rupert. The unfortunate gentleman strove to propitiate the ruling powers, but the reading of his petition to the house was delayed, designedly as has been alleged, until the morning when he had been appointed to suffer, and his offered concessions were sneered at as mean-spirited and

discreditable. What they were has never been exactly known, but the following paper explains their nature satisfactorily.

The Earl of Derby to the Speaker, "Sir,-Being now by the will of God, for aught I know, brought to the last minutes of my life, I once more most humbly pray the Parliament will be pleased to hear me before my death.

"I plead nothing in vindication of my offences, but humbly cast myself down at the Parliament's feet, begging their mercy. I have several times addressed my humble petitions for life, and now again crave leave to submit myself to their mercy, with assurances that the Isle of Man shall be given up to such hands as the Parliament entrust to receive it; with this further engagement (which I shall confirm by sureties), that I shall never act or endeavour any thing against the established power of this nation, but end my days in prison or banishment, as the House shall think fit.

"Sir, it is a greater affliction to me than death itself, that I am sentenced to

die at Bolton; so that the nation will look upon me as a sacrifice for that blood which some have unjustly cast upon me, and from which I hope I am acquitted in your opinions, and the judgment of good men, having cleared myself by undeniable evidence.

"Indeed, at my trial it was never mentioned against me, and yet they adjudge me to suffer at Bolton, as if indeed I had been guilty. I beg a respite for my life upon that issue, that, if I do not acquit myself from that imputation, let me die without mercy.

'But, Sir, if the Parliament have not this mercy for me, I humbly pray the place appointed for my death may be altered; and that if the Parliament think it not fit to give me time to live, they will be pleased to give me time to die, in respiting my life for some time, whilst I may fit myself for death; since thus long I have been persuaded by Colonel Duckenfield, the Parliament would give me my life.

"Sir, I submit myself, my family, wife, and children to the mercy of Parliament; and shall live or die, Sir,

'Your contented and humble servant, "Oct. 11, 1651. DERBY."

"Sir, I humbly beg the favour that the petition of a dying man, here inclosed, may by your favour be read in the House."

The earl was executed at Bolton on the 15th October, 1651. Several narratives of his conduct at the place

of execution will be found in the State Trials, vol. V. p. 294.

The present work is dedicated to Lord John Russell, and has an introduction written rather too much with a view to his lordship's position and opinions. If, instead of the introduction, Mr. Cary had given a few more explanatory notes, his general readers would have been better satisfied, and his work would have been improved; but the valuable papers it contains entitle it to a place in every historical library, and give its editor a just claim to the thanks of every lover of truth.

Sermons by Archdeacon Manning, M.A.

THESE discourses consist of very eloquent expositions of the divine law, and very earnest appeals to the conscience and feelings of Christians, in this their appointed life of trial. The main object-the engrossing themethe absolute purpose of the whole body of doctrine contained in the separate discourses, is to represent what is truly a Christian life-a life of duty, of denial, of duty ever wakeful, of denial never wearied-in contrast with the low standard by which the world and those who love the world are content to regulate their way of life. The preacher endeavours to remove all such false and fatal impressions; to waken men from the lethargy in which they have been lulled, and to point out to them, amid their imagined ease and security, what dangers are thickening around them. In fact, his object has been to bring Christians back to the truly Christian life and Christian spirit; not that which passes for such in worldly estimation, and which is compatible with the most unchristian estimation of things, and which seems only to denounce or abjure certain deviations from God's law, in order to have an undisturbed and tranquil possession of others; but the preacher endeavours to bring before his hearers the true archetype of the Christian man-the humble and contrite spiritthe self-denying will-the steadfast resolution-the pure and clean and chastened heart-the meditative mind

-the faith that does not falter, and the strength that does not weary. To recall forgotten principles, to restore forsaken ordinances, to pour the life