PRINTED AND PUBLISHED BY ADAM WALDIE & CO. No. 45 Carpenter Street, PHILADELPHIA. $5 for 60 numbers, payable in advance. six volumes of sermons and memoirs of his own life. He is one of those who had genius whipped into them by Dr. Busby. The English pulpit is fruitful beyond that of other countries in the production of wits. South, Swift, Sterne, and the present Dean of St. Paul's, Sydney Smith, are not easily matched from any other of the learned professions. South's sermons begin, in order of date, before the restoration, and come down to near the end of the century. They were much celebrated at the time, and retain a portion of their renown. This is by no means surprising. South had great qualifications for that popularity which attends the pulpit, and his manner was at that time original. Not diffuse, not learned, not formal in argument like Barrow, with a more natural struc ture of sentences, a more pointed, though by no means a more fair and satisfactory turn of reasoning, with a style clear and English, free from all pedantry, but abounding with those colloquial novelties of idiom which, though now become vulgar and offensive, the age of Charles II. affected, sparing no personal or temporary sarcasm, but if he seems for a moment to tread on the verge of buffoonery, recovering himself by some stroke of vigorous sense and language; such was the worthy Dr. South, whom the courtiers delighted to hear. His sermons want all that is called unction, and sometimes even earnestness; which is owing, in a great measure, to a perpetual tone of gibing at rebels and fanatics; but there is a masculine spirit about them which, combined with their peculiar characteristics, would naturally fill the churches where he might be heard. South seems to bend towards the Armenian theology, without adopting so much of it as some of his contemporaries. He was irascible in temper, and the best description of this part of his character is perhaps given in the following paragraph from one of his sermons. "There are some persons that, like so many salamanders, cannot live but in the fire; cannot enjoy themselves but in the heats and sharpness of contention; the very breath they draw does not so much enliven them, as kindle and inflame thein; they have so much bitterness in their nature, that they must be now and then discharging it upon somebody; they must have vent, and sometimes breathe themselves in an invective or a quarrel; or perhaps their health requires it; should they be quiet a week, they would need a purge, and be forced to take physic."-Sermons, vol. vii. p. 4. beautiful passage that it is no sacrifice of real honour to refuse a challenge. is loss of honour, is indeed no such thing; the Besides that, which is here supposed, which measure of honour is the judgment of the knowing, and the pious, and the virtuous, who will such an one, that durst look a duty in the face, value and applaud the passive magnanimity of in spite of scorn, and conquer the scoffs of the world, of which the most reputed for valour are afraid. All that he loses in the opinion of those who rate honour by a false rule, and measure glory by the standard of their own ignorance, vanity, and rashness; and the same persons who condemn him for this, would slight him as much for not talking obscenely, not scoffing at religion and whatsoever is sacred, and for not drinking himself to the condition of a barrel or a sponge; or not rapping out such hideous oaths, as might even provoke divine justice to revenge the impiety of them upon a place or a nation. Those, indeed, who look upon the not doing of these things as pedantry, would, no question, account all refusal of a duel, poorness and pusillanimity." P. 56, vol. vii. And again : "But he that has not the courage to puff at all popular surmises, and to esteem himself superior to the riots and mistakes of hectors; but by a the word and challenge of a furious sot, whose foolish facility appears and ventures his life at life is not worth the keeping, falls ingloriously, and descends to his grave with the burial of an ass; shame is his winding sheet, and the solemnity of his funeral the reprehension of the wise, the pity of the good, and the laughter of his companions; who can make sport at the loss of soul and the miseries of damnation." SUSCEPTIBLE PEOPLE. BY MRS. GORE. a The incomparable Charles Lamb used to fancy he could detect a schoolmaster by his grammatical scrupulosities in the use of the subjunctive mood. But for the fear of the said schoolmaster before our eyes, we should have headed this article "Touchy People," according to the popular phrase. Pedantically speaking, the word should be "Tetchy ;" and to steer clear between plain English and pure English, we have taken leave to Anglicise the French designation of those selftormentors, who are ever suspecting or resenting NO. 5. affronts ;-thin-skinned martyrs, "tremblingly alive all o'er" to ideal injuries, or wincing, like other galled jades, under imaginary lashes. There is no stronger symptom of insignificance than to be touchy! The moment a perconcerning the slights of society: while those by son's position is definite, he ceases to be anxious birthright placed above the little impertinences of the little, are incapable of surmising the possiis an almost unfailing symptom of a raw. There bility of affront:-susceptibility on such points is some reason that we know not of, why Lady Manly should resent her visit not being returned with sufficient celerity; there is some latent motive for the flush that overspreads poor Mordaunt's brow, when unable to catch Lord Cecil's We should not eye for a bow, at the theatre. have set ourselves to the task of inquiring why the notice of such people was important to them, but for their resentment of an offence, after all, perhaps, imaginary. It is like a man scudding along a wall in the consciousness that his coat is out at elbows. "Ne faut pas parler de corde dans la maison d'un pendu!" says a French adage; and when we see a man resent an allusion to Tyburn, we have a right to suppose that the rope has acted its part in the family history. Be this a hint to susceptible people, lest their infirmity of temper expose "I am certain them to unjust suspicions. he was talking at me"-"That show-up was at my expense!" are phrases serving as notes exwe know that Mrs. Dove was overbearing in her planatory to their secret infirmiiies. How should ménage, but for her insisting that she was caricatured in the heroine of some shrew-contemning novel? How conjecture that Colonel Lawless had exhibited the better part of valour in the Burmese war, but for his calling out some lawyer's clerk for jesting in his presence upon the white feather? Some people consider this sort of susceptibility an amiable weakness; and apologise for having been cold or ungracious without a cause, on the score of their "foolish sensitiveness." Foolish indeed-worse than foolish! Touchiness is one of the most paltry phases of egotism and vanity. It is only those with whom self is ever uppermost, who dream of being touchy. There are some persons so singularly constituted that, go where they may, do what they will, their own shadow, grown gigantic, seems ever projected before them, as if to convict them of a perpetual attempt to eclipse the sun. They can see nothing in nature but themselves. Every thing said, thought, written by the rest of the world, must have reference to them. The result is, that the rest of the world becomes unanimous in think- To public men, this infirmity is a serious disqualification. Susceptibility in a public man amounts to an admission of vulnerability; it is the act of publishing by sound of trumpet the exact measure of his strength, or rather of his weakness. A touchy man, in the house of commons, sets himself up as a target. The young members delight in taking a rise out of him. It is a sort of badger-bait for the lovers of illegitimate sport. Such men are always starting up, or launching out, under the influence of whips and stings from invisible hands, like Caliban capering under the impish inflictions of Prospero. Their bodies, like that of the son of Sycorax, are filled with pains and aches; but where is the enemy?-Every where! They see their tormentors in the smooth face that smiles upon them, and expect a gripe from the friendly hand extended towards their own! Public men have died-ay! actually died, and the worms have eaten them,-from the influence of this morbid susceptibility; not merely by bringing quarrels upon themselves to be decided at the rapier's point, but under the agonising influence of slights attributed by their touchiness to the sovereign; or ingratitude to the nation. The perpetual hair-shirt of wounded self-love has eventually worn out their constitution. Touchiness sends great men to the tomb, just as it sends lesser ones to Coventry. by the appearance of Farren in the part of the ambitious intriguant, in a wig, said to be a facsimile of the one worn by Talleyrand at the Congress of Vienna!-The king signified his displeasure to the lord chamberlain—the lord chamberlain to the manager-the manager to the imprudent histrion. It was by no means certain that a rupture between England and France might not be the result of this insult offered to the French ambassador. Lord Grey, then at the head of the administration, attended the theatre to verify the delinquency. tion, this forbearance, this tendency to live The offence, however, carries its own penalty. -to his own sharp fancies a prey, is more to be pitied than if those prickles were So much for the accuracy of people's impres sions on such points. So much for the folly of taking to oneself a random shot! There is a man who would be clever and agreeable but for the solitary foible of touchiness, who dies daily" from the self-appropriation of random shots. He fancies himself the object of every whisper-every smile-every caricatureevery joke going on in the circle of his acquaintance-Sir John Sensitive once gained a contested election, and kept his bed for six weeks afterwards, from the severe wounds inflicted by the ordinary squibs of the hustings. Sir John Sensitive once paid his court to the prettiest woman in his county,-and was on the eve of his acceptance, when her ladyship happening to say, in his presence, that she disliked lawyers, he drew off and took affront, because his great grandfather happened to have been Master of the Rolls. Sir John Sensitive has fought three duels; And then the mortification to a touchy person -one with his bosom friend for joking with him of having it proved to him that he has been fen- about a grammatical fault in his pamphlet on Cacing with a shadow ;-the vexation of having to tholic Emancipation:-one with the member for own himself in the wrong! And how easy to his county on the strength of his allusion in pardeceive ourselves concerning the attacks made liament to certain landowners of intolerant princi upon our self love. Many years ago, the writer ples in the large and populous county he had the of these sketches produced, at Drury Lane Thea- honour to represent ;-and the third, with a gentre, a comedy, entitled "Lords and Commons," tleman of distinguished merit and talent, whom in which that excellent comedian, William Far-he persisted in mistaking for H. B. just as he ren, enacted the part of an old nabob; admirably had persisted in mistaking himself for the origi costumed, according to his conception of the part. nal of one of the clever croquis of that successful Immediately on his entrance, a murmur of dis- caricaturist. Sweet Sir John! be warned. The approbation arose, for which, at the moment, it last bullet of the Freischutz may await thee. was difficult to assign a motive. The following day, several newspaper critics noticed with regret that the part should have been dressed at a well-known individual, noted for his harmless eccentricities, &c. &c. while more familiar friends exclaimed, "A shameful show-up of JEREMY BENTHAM!-An abominable caricature of the worthy Jeremy Bentham !-The wig especially was a facsimile!" Three have proved true The fourth thou mayst rue! Take patience !-The world is wide enough to allow even so great a man to pass unnoticed. Conquer thy perilous irritabilities, and rise superior to the weakness of those pigmies on stilts, whom we have designated as SUSCEPTIBLE PEOPLE. If the foolish and vulgar enjoyed a monopoly of this painful frailty, we might say, "let them fancy that the windmills are making war upon them no matter?"-But unluckily touchiness is also one of the follies of the wise. Read Pope's correspondence; consult the memoirs of Swift; turn over the pages of Scaliger; listen to the howlings of Warburton; reflect upon the 'miseries of Shenstone, touchy not only for himself, but for his Leasowes. Above all, Rousseau !-Rousseau's life was a never-ending warfare against imaginary insults. From the pope, down to the gentle duchesses, on whose knees, like a spoiled child, he was cherished, all were aggressors. The eloquent and enlightened Jean Jacques, in his bursts of irritability and touchiness, betrayed himself as of the class described by one of the most impassioned of writers, as “ n'ayant pas en Mr. Bunn's Memoirs of the Stage" have elles ce fonds de tendresse qui fait accepter l'im-thrown a new light upon the matter. The wig in The preservation of public health in great perfection de l'être humain, ces personnes qui question was fated to become as much an object cities is an object no less of paramount importsont bonnes et affectueuses seulement quand elles of contention as the lock of Mrs. Arabella Fer-ance to the citizen, than of curious inquiry to the rêvent." In his writings he was a philosopher; morr's hair, the origin of Pope's charming poem. philosopher; and it is truly surprising to reflect, in real life, a petulant child!On the appearance of Scribe's clever comedy of that in our own country we should have given to Nothing appears more troublesome to indivi-"Bertrand et Raton," under the name of "The this subject so little serious consideration. Abroad, duals who, on their own side, are possessed of Minister and the Mercer," general indignation the means of conserving the public health, of disthis fonds de tendresse-this generous disposi- was excited in the royal and ministerial circles, arming the malignity of epidemic diseases, and The comedy and the wig were soon afterwards laid on the shelf together; but, to this day, a warm devotee of old Jeremy's continues to reproach us with the treachery of our attack upon. "an eminent old man, who ought to have been an object of respect to a young writer." THE LUNGS OF LONDON. sensible, witty, and good-humoured an individual 99 The discomfiture of the archbishop, when he attempted to introduce the English Liturgy into the Scottish Church, appears to have been highly gratifying to Archee. A stool had been thrown at the clergyman's head who first attempted to read it in St. Giles's Church, Edinburgh: Archee facetiously called it the stool of repentance. The religious commotions which followed excited considerable uneasiness at court; in the midst of them, Archee happened to encounter the archbishop on his way to the council chamber. "Ah," said he, "who's the fool now?" For this and other insolences Laud immediately laid a complaint before the king, who was present in council at the time. When brought before the council he pleaded the privilege of his coat, but buffoonery was now out of place, and he was sentenced to be dismissed from his post. The order, dated Whitehall, 11th of March, 1637, is still preserved and runs as follows: His death took place at his house in Queen street, St. Giles's in the Fields, 1648. In his will, he gave directions that a white horse, to which he was much attached, should be carefully fed and attended to during its life. He also be queathed a large collection of books to Jesus' College, Oxford. On the 5th of August he was buried in the chancel of St. Giles's church in the Fields. "As a soldier," says Horace Walpole, he won the esteem of those great captains the Prince of Orange and the Constable de Montmorency; as a knight, his chivalry was drawn from His conversation with King James, when the the purest founts of the 'Faerie Queene.' Had latter was weak enough to trust his heir in the he been ambitious, the beauty of his person would Spanish dominions, is quite admirable:-"I must have carried him as far as any gentle knight can change caps with your majesty," said Archee. aspire to go. As a public minister, he supported "Why?" inquired the king."Why, who," rethe dignity of his country, even when its prince plied Archee, "sent the prince into Spain?"disgraced it; and that he was qualified to write" But, supposing," returned James, "that the its annals, as well as to ennoble them, the history prince should come safely back again?"-"Why, I have mentioned proves, and must make us in that case," said Archee, "I will take my cap lament that he did not complete, or that we have from my head, and send it to the King of Spain.' lost, the account he purposed to give of his em- Archee, however tender of the prince's safety, bassy. These busy scenes were blended with had no objection to trust his own person among and terminated by meditation and philosophic the pleasures of the Spanish capital. Probably inquiries. Strip each period of its excesses and he followed in the train of some of the young errors, and it will not be easy to trace out, or courtiers, who hastened to join the prince in his dispose the life of a man of quality into a suc- romantic expedition. His wit and his impudence cession of employments which would better be- made him as much at home at Madrid as he had come him. Valour and military activity in youth; formerly been in London. While the prince business of state in middle age; contemplation could with difficulty interchange a syllable with and labours for the information of posterity in his beloved Infanta, Archee was not only admitted the calmer scenes of closing life." Such is the into her presence, but became a familiar favourite outline of Lord Herbert's character, as it is with the Spanish ladies. Our cousin, Archee," The circumstances of Archee's dismissal are sketched for him by the pen of another. He has says Howell, in one of his curious letters from more fully described by Mr. Garrard, in a letter himself completed the picture by his own curious Madrid, "hath more privilege than any, for he to the Earl of Strafford. He writes, 20th March, delineation of his private thoughts and secret mo- often goes with his fool's coat, where the Infanta 1637, "Archee is fallen into a great misfortune; tives for action; forming, if not the most perfect, is with her meninas, and ladies of honour, and a fool he would be, but a foul-mouthed knave he at least one of the most remarkable characters in keeps a blowing and blustering amongst them, has proved himself. Being in a tavern in Westthe gallery of human portraits. and flirts out what he lists." One day, the sub-minster drunk, (he says himself he was speaking ject of conversation was the gallantry of the Duke of Bavaria, who at the head of an inconsiderable force, had routed a large army of the palsgrave. The latter being son-in-law to King James, rendered the topic a displeasing one to an English"I will tell you a stranger circumstance," said Archee; "is it not more singular that one hundred and forty ships should have sailed from Spain, to attack England, and that not ten of them should have returned to tell what became of the rest?" ARCHEE, THE COURT FOOL. man. In days when the blessings of literature were unknown, and when the sovereign could scarcely read or write, the royal fool, or jester, was a person of no slight importance in dissipating the dulness of a barbarous court. In the long nights and rainy days he must have been invaluable. At the ! insipid banquets of royalty, formality and state- Archee's famous feud with Archbishop Laud liness disappeared before him: he enlivened must have been productive of considerable amuseilliterate boorishness, and gave spirit to flagging ment to the more mischievous courtiers. He conviviality. The guests made him their butt, once asked permission to say grace, at a dinner and he repaid their ridicule with impunity and where that dignified prelate was present. On his applause. To the sovereign his society was request being granted. "Great praise," he said, almost indispensable. In the presence of his fool" be to God, and little Laud to the devil." Osthe monarch could unbend and be perfectly at his ease. He could either amuse himself with his buffoonery, or he could vent on him his spleen. Sometimes this singular familiarity appears to have produced a real attachment on the part of the jester. We find him taking advantage of his peculiar license, and, under the mask and in the language of folly, communicating wholesome and important truths, to which the most powerful noble would scarcely have ventured an allusion. The character of the court fool of former days is commonly somewhat undervalued. Generally speaking, he was a compound of humour, tact, and impudence; and obtained his title less from being, than from playing, the fool. In many instances, the man who wore a cap and bells, had quite as much sense as the man who was decorated with a coronet. Archibald Armstrong (for such was Archee's real name) was as shrewd, I-42.5 borne says, in his Advice to a Son,-" He was His fool's coat now is in far better case, "It is this day ordered by his majesty, with the advice of the board, that Archibald Armstrong, the king's fool, for certain scandalous words of a high nature, spoken by him against the Lord Archbishop of Canterbury, his grace, and proved to be uttered by him by two witnesses, shall have his coat pulled over his head, and be discharged of the king's service, and banished the court; for which the lord chamberlaine of the king's household is prayed and required to give order to be executed. And immediately the same was put in execution.” of the Scottish business,) he fell a railing on my Lord of Canterbury, said he was a monk, a rogue and a traitor. Of this his grace complained at council, the king being present: it was ordered he should be carried to the porter's lodge, his coat pulled over his ears, and kicked out of the court, never to enter within the gates, and to be called into the star chamber. The first part is done, but my Lord of Canterbury hath interceded to the king, that there it should end. There is a new fool in his place, Muckle John, but he will ne'er be so rich, for he cannot abide money." The writer of the Scout's Discovery, printed in 1642, mentions his falling in with the discarded mountebank about a week after his dismissal. "I met Archee," he says, "at the Abbey all in black. Alas! poor fool, thought I, he mourns for his country. I asked him about his coat. O, quoth he, my Lord of Canterbury hath taken it from me, because either he, or some of the Scots bishops may have the use of it themselves; but he hath given me a black coat for it; and now I may speak what I please, so it be not against the prelates, for this coat hath a greater privilege than the other had." Archee, after his disgrace, retired to the scene of his birth, Arthuret, in Cumberland, where he died at an advanced age in 1672. Whether the fallen jester merely carried with him his court gallantry, or whether the ladies of this retired village entertained some oriental notions as to the physical qualities of a fool, certain it is that the parish register of Arthuret bears record to his regard for the fair sex. The following notices were extracted from it by Lysons: "Francis, the base son of Archibald Armstrong, baptised December 17, 1643." 3 "Archibald Armstrong and Sybella Bell, married June 4, 1646." "Archibald Armstrong, buried April 1st, 1672." It appears by the Strafford Papers, and also by the following lines attached to the portrait which is prefixed to his "Jests," that Archee had contrived to make his fortune before he was disgraced: Archee, by kings and princes graced of late, His jeers, taunts, tales, which no man can offend. He was buried in the churchyard of Arthuret, but there is no memorial of the burial-place of the jester. CHARLES I. No monarch could be more disqualified to stem a great political torrent than was the unfortunate Charles. Had he been born in a private station he would have adorned it by the purity of his morals, and the refinement of his taste. Had he inherited unlimited power, he might have converted even despotism into a golden age; or, indeed, had he lived at any other period of our history, he would at least have been regarded as an amiable and accomplished, if not an illustrious prince. But it was his misfortune to live in troubled and extraordinary times. A people had been roused to a sense of their wrongs. The spirit of freedom was abroad, and a watchword was merely wanting to arm a nation in favour of those privileges, which, in times of darkness and slavery, had been wrested from it. Under such circumstances, the errors or oppressions of a long line of kings were easily associated with their reigning representative; and Charles became the sacrifice to a long established system of misrule, rather than to individual offence. The hero and the martyr of one faction, and the reputed tyrant of another, few monarchs have been more exalted by their friends, or execrated by their enemies. Let us, however, in discussing the character of Charles, divest ourselves as much as possible from the curse of party prejudice. Let us separate the monarch from the man, the pious Christian from the wavering politician; ever bearing in mind that the faults of the prince were the dictates of conscience; that his failings were the result of education; but that all his virtues were his own. On the one hand, then, we discover a weak and vacillating monarch, submitting to the narrow counsels of inferior minds, neither compromising with grace, nor refusing with dignity; enforcing religious intolerance; and contending with the energies of a great people, and the genius of a remarkable period, by unmeaning promises and paltry intrigues. Unfortunately in the political and most contemptible school of his father, he had early been initiated in kingcraft and insincerity; and the same prince whose high sense of honour was so remarkable in private life, proved himself the most deficient in political integrity. It was this great moral failing which rendered his war with his subjects a war to the knife. Where truth was made subservient to policy on the one hand, submission was rendered impracticable on the other; for how could his subjects restore to him a power, which they imagined, however solemn the compact, would be turned against themselves? Were any reliance to be placed in the assurances of that arch-hypocrite Cromwell, fishes, which were ridden by Moors. The init was this trait in the political character of his decorum was, that there was all fish and no victim, which signed the death-warrant of Charles. water. At the further end was a great shell, in Notwithstanding the ingenious defence of the form of a skallop, wherein were four seats. Hume and other writers, such, it is to be feared, In the lowest sat the queen with my Lady Bed is the public character of Charles the First. It ford; in the rest were placed my Ladies Suffolk, might be argued in his favour, that political dis- Derby, Rich, Effingham, Ann Herbert, Susan honesty is not always inconsistent with private Herbert, Elizabeth Howard, Walsingham, and integrity; but would not such an apology be an Bevil. Their appearance was rich, but too light insult to a virtuous monarch? Is it not more and courtezan-like for such great ones. Instead charitable,-more compatible with his acts of of vizards, their faces and arms, up to the el private goodness, and his high sense of religious bows, were painted black, which was disguise duty, to suppose that he acted according to the sufficient, for they were hard to be known; but dictates of his conscience; and that his errors it became them nothing so well as their red and were those of judgment, rather than of the heart! white, and you cannot imagine a more ugly sight Surely his domestic virtues were at least equal to than a troop of lean-cheeked Moors. The Spahis public incapacity! Brave, chaste, temperate, nish and Venitian ambassadors were both preand humane; a pious Christian, an affectionate sent, and sat by the king in state; at which Monhusband, and an indulgent father; how few men sieur Beaumont quarrels so extremely, that he are there whose secret thoughts and actions would saith the whole court is Spanish. But, by his bear the same scrutiny as those of the unhappy favour, he should fall out with none but himself, Charles! Let us follow him through his many for they were all indifferently invited to come as misfortunes. Let us regard him through the private men to a private sport; which he refus gratings of his prison, or amidst the dark solemni-ing, the Spanish ambassador willingly accepted, ty of the scaffold. Let us recall his many griefs; and being there, seeing no cause to the contrary, a king deprived of his inheritance; the husband he put off Don Taxis, and took upon him El Setorn from his wife, and the father from his chil- nor Embaxadour, wherein he outstripped our lit dren; reviled and spit upon by the meanest of tle Monsieur. He was privately at the first his subjects; dragged to a public trial, and trust- mask, and sat amongst his men disguised; at ing only to a still more public execution for re- this he was taken out to dance, and footed it like lease from his miseries; he yet endured all with a lusty old gallant, with his country woman. He a meekness and a dignity so beautiful, as to be took out the queen, and forgot not to kiss her unequaled, perhaps, in the history of human suf- hand, though there was danger it would have left fering, or of human fortitude. a mark on his lips. The night's work was concluded with a banquet in the great chamber, which was so furiously assaulted, that down went table and tressels before one bit was touched. They say the Duke of Holst will come upon us with an after reckoning, and that we shall see him on Candlemas night in a mask, as he hath showed himself a lusty reveller all this Christmas." One word respecting the political features of the period. The true philosopher will regard the great contention between Charles and his subjects, as a justifiable struggle for liberty on the one hand; and, on the part of the king, as a conscientious defence of those prescriptive privileges which had descended to him from his forefathers, and which his education led him to regard as sacred. He will admit that on each side were exhibited many great and good qualities, on which the moralist may reflect with satisfaction, and an Englishman with pride. He will remember also, that in all political convulsions the faults on both sides have been generally equal; and he will conclude, that in the present instance such a deduction is not only the most charitable, but probably not far removed from the truth. Charles the First was born at Dumfermling, in Scotland, the 19th of November, 1600. So weak was he at his birth, that it was hardly expected he could survive his infancy, and consequently, on the 23d of December following, he was hastily christened, without any of those ceremonies which usually attend the baptism of royal infants. When only four years old he was created Duke of York, as well as Knight of the Bath, with ridiculous solemnity: a sword was girded on his side, a coronet of gold placed on his head, and a golden verge in his hand. A pageant, which followed the ceremony, is described by Sir Dudley Carleton in a letter to Mr. Winwood, dated January, 1604, and affords a very curious picture of the manners of the time. "There was a public dinner in the great chamber, where there was one table for the duke and his earls assistants, another for his fellow knights of the Bath. At night we had the Queen's Mask in the Banqueting House, or rather her pageant. There was a great engine at the lower end of the room which had motion, and in it were the images of sea-horses, with other terrible Previous to the young prince having been brought from Scotland on the accession of his father to the English throne, many of the court ladies had been anxious suitors for the keeping of the child. No sooner, however, were they made acquainted with his sickly condition, and the apparent probability of his dying in their charge, than all this anxiety vanished. Charles was eventually intrusted to the lady of Sir Robert Cary, afterwards Earl of Monmouth; a man ever on the watch for preferment, and who, as appears by his own Memoirs, had eagerly solicited the honour notwithstanding the risk. The chief infirmity of Charles was a weakness in his legs, by which, in his infancy, he was so much distressed, that till his seventh year he had been compelled to crawl upon his hands and knees. Cary himself informs us, that the prince was so weak in the ankles that he could not even stand alone, and that it was much feared there was a dislocation of the joints. The king was anxious to make the experiment of iron boots, but Lady Cary so strenuously protested against their being adopted, that his majesty eventually submitted to her judgment. Charles had also remained so long a period before he acquired the faculty of speech, that it was more than apprehended he had been born dumb. James proposed that the string under his tongue should be cut, but this remedy was also successfully opposed by Lady Cary. Probably it was these infantine infirmities that rendered Charles the especial favourite of his mother, Anne of Denmark. She used to say, observes Weldon, that she loved him as dearly as her own soul. In his sixth year, one Thomas Murray, a layman, was appointed his tutor. Little more can be collected respecting this person than the brief notice of Perinchief, who describes him as well qualified for the office though a favourer of presbyterianism. Under the tuition of Murray he made a creditable progress in learning. Prince Henry often jested with his young brother on the diligence with which he applied himself to his studies. On one occasion, when they were waiting with the rest of the court for the king to make his appearance, Henry caught up the cap of Archbishop Abbott and put it on his brother's head. If he continued a good boy, he said, and attended to his book, he would one day make him Archbishop of Canterbury. Henry used to say at other times, that he would hereafter make his brother a bishop in order that he might wear a gown to hide his legs. This piece of pleasantry had of course allusion to Charles's weakness in those parts of his person, and is the least amiable trait which has been related of Henry. Osborne tells us that he would occasionally taunt his brother Charles till he wept; and yet, throughout the several childish epistles which passed between the duke and his elder brother, there is not the remotest trace of any unkindly feeling. The following juvenile letters are pleasing specimens of their good understanding, and especially of the affectionate disposition of Charles. They were severally addressed by Prince Charles to his brother Henry. "Sweet, sweet brother, "I thank you for your letter. I will keep it better than all my graith; and I will send my pistols by Master Newton. I will give any thing that I have to you; both my horses, and my books, and my pieces, and my cross-bows, or any thing that you would have. Good brother, love me, and I shall ever love and serve you. "Your loving brother to be commanded, "YORK." Good brother, "I hope you are in good health and merry, as I am, God be thanked. In your absence I visit sometimes your stable, and ride your great horses, that at your return I may wait on you in that noble exercise. So committing you to God, I rest your loving and dutiful brother, "YORK. "To my brother the prince." "Sir, “Please your highness: I do keep your hares in breath, and I have very good sport; I do wish the king and you might see it. So longing to see you, I kiss your hands, and rest. Yours to be commanded, "YORK. Knight of the Garter. At the death of his brother The journey of Charles to Madrid is believed The Count de Brienne, also mentions his breaking some lances with laudable dexterity, and Howell writes from Madrid that the prince was fortunate enough to be successful at the ring, before the eyes of his mistress the Infanta. His taste for the fine arts was early displayed, and has never been disputed. The match between Charles and Mary, second daughter of Philip the Third of Spain, was first set on foot in 1617, and was protracted, with various hopes of success, till 1622. The accomplishment of this matrimonial project was the darling object of King James. The immense fortune which it was expected would accompany the hand of the princess; the king's ambition to unite his son with a daughter of one of the great Powers of France or Spain; and especially the restitution of the Palatinate to his son-in-law, which he hoped would attend a marriage with the Infanta, rendered the scheme, however obnoxious to his subjects, irresistibly tempting to himself. A delay of five years, if it was displeasing to an old king, was no less so to a young and romantic prince; and Charles, naturally fond of adventure, and enamoured with charms he had never seen, was induced to enter eagerly into that chivalrous project of visiting the Spanish capital, which even in the annals of knight-erranthas hardly been overmatched. ry Every thing having been duly concerted between the prince and Buckingham, the next step was to obtain the consent of the king. This, however, was no easy matter, for though a very wild enterprise might appear extremely smooth to two chivalrous young men, the monarch who was anxious for his heir, and answerable to his subjects for his safety, was likely to think very differently on such a question. A moment, however, was selected when the king was in an excellent humour, and Charles taking advantage of it, threw himself on his knees before his father, and earnestly entreated him to give his consent to the expedition. Buckingham was the only bystander, and anxiously awaited the reply. James, after listening with great calmness to his son's proposition, turned imploringly towards Buckingham, as if desirous to ascertain his opinion in so grave a matter. The duke on his part, naturally made use of every persuasion in his power, and eventually enforced his arguments with so much vigour and ingenuity, that added to the warmth of the prince's entreaties, the king at length reluctantly consented to the undertaking, and promised to keep it a secret from the world. James, however, was no sooner alone, than he began to reflect more seriously on the wild folly of the scheme. The many dangers which might befall his son, and the responsibility which would accrue to himself, presented themselves so forcibly to his mind, that when the adventurers came to him at the last moment for their despatches, * The cross-bow was made use of for purposes of he told them, with tears in his eyes, how deeply sport to a much later period than is generally sup- he had repented of his former consent, and added, posed. About this time, Abbot, Archbishop of Can- that if they renewed the subject it would go far terbury, when on a visit at Bramshall, the seat of towards breaking his heart. Buckingham reEdward Lord Zouch, had the misfortune to shoot a torted with the greatest insolence, that after havdeer at which he had aimed. It is a curious fact, hereafter would believe a word he said. He told keeper with this instrument, instead of striking the ing broken a promise so solemnly pledged, nobody that by this mischance, it was rendered very doubt the old king, moreover, that he must already ful whether the common law of England did not necessarily suspend the archbishop from all ecclesias- have been guilty of an untruth, for unquestionatical function, and render the see vacant. The ques-bly he had communicated their project to some tion was referred to sundry bishops, (rather interested rascal, whose pitiful arguments had induced him judges) and others, among whom there arose a great to retract his promise, adding, that he had little Among the letters, addressed to King James diversity of opinion. The decision appears to have doubt but that he should by some means discover by his family, which are preserved in the Advo-been principally influenced by the question, whether who his counsellor had been, and that such an a bishop or archbishop could lawfully hunt in his own interference would neither be forgotten nor forates' Library in Edinburgh, are several juvenile or any other park? This difficulty was cleared away Compositions, in Latin, French, and English, by Sir Edward Coke, who produced a law by which given by the prince. From Prince Charles, then Duke of York. The it was enacted that at the demise of a bishop, the ollowing is a specimen : king had the disposal of his hounds; from whence it was inferred that the bishop could lawfully make use of the animals in his life-time. Heylin, Life of "Sweet father, I learn to decline substantives Laud, p. 80.-The method at this time, in sporting, and adjectives, give me your blessing: I thank was for the keeper to wound the deer with his crossou for my best man. Your loving son, bow, when two or three well-disciplined dogs were let loose, and pursued him till he fell. Life of Lord "To my father the King." Keeper Guilford, p. 29.-On the 28th July, 1620, Thomas Norreys, Earl of Berkshire, put a period to In his eleventh year, Charles was made a his existence with a cross-bow. "My maid's service to you. To his highness." 'Sweete, "YORK. The haughty violence of Buckingham, and the renewed entreaties of Charles, had once more their desired effect. The weak monarch again yielded,-the day was named for their departure, their two attendants were fixed upon, and Sir Francis Cottington, who was nominated as one of their train, and who had heretofore been long a resident in Spain, was even sent for before they parted. As Cottington entered the apartment, the duke whispered in the prince's ear, that the |