could never have accomplished those designs without the assistance of a great spirit, an admirable circumspection and sagacity, and a most magnanimous reso

he carried in that manner to a place not far from
Salisbury, to which Colonel Philips conducted him.
In this journey he passed through the middle of a
regiment of horse, and, presently after, met Des-lution.
borough walking down a hill with three or four men
with him, who had lodged in Salisbury the night be-
fore, all that road being full of soldiers.

When he appeared first in the parliament, he seemed to have a person in no degree gracious, no ornament of discourse, none of those talents which use to conThe next day, upon the plains, Dr Hinchman, one ciliate the affections of the stander-by. Yet as he of the prebends of Salisbury, met the king, the Lord grew into place and authority, his parts seemed to be Wilmot and Philips then leaving him to go to the raised, as if he had had concealed faculties, till he sea-coast to find a vessel, the doctor conducting the had occasion to use them; and when he was to act king to a place called Heale, three miles from Salis- the part of a great man, he did it without any indebury, belonging then to Serjeant Hyde, who was after-cency, notwithstanding the want of custom. wards Chief Justice of the King's Bench, and then in the possession of the widow of his elder brother-a house that stood alone from neighbours, and from any highway-where coming in late in the evening, he supped with some gentlemen who accidentally were in the house, which could not well be avoided. But the next morning he went early from thence, as if he had continued his journey; and the widow, being trusted with the knowledge of her guest, sent her servants out of the way, and at an hour appointed received him again, and accommodated him in a little room, which had been made since the beginning of the troubles for the concealment of delinquents, the seat always belonging to a malignant family.

Here he lay concealed, without the knowledge of some gentlemen who lived in the house, and of others who daily resorted thither, for many days; the widow herself only attending him with such things as were necessary, and bringing him such letters as the doctor received from the Lord Wilmot and Colonel Philips. A vessel being at last provided upon the coast of Sussex, and notice thereof sent to Dr Hinchman, he sent to the king to meet him at Stonehenge, upon the plains, three miles from Heale, whither the widow took care to direct him; and being there met, he attended him to the place where Colonel Philips received him. He, the next day, delivered him to the Lord Wilmot, who went with him to a house in Sussex recommended by Colonel Gunter, a gentleman of that country, who had served the king in the war, who met him there, and had provided a little bark at Brighthelmstone, a small fisher town, where he went early on board, and, by God's blessing, arrived safely in Normandy.

[Character of Oliver Cromwell.]

He was one of those men, quos vituperare ne inimici quidem possunt, nisi ut simul laudent; whom his very enemies could not condemn without commending him at the same time; for he could never have done half that mischief without great parts of courage, industry, and judgment. He must have had a wonderful understanding in the natures and humours of men, and as great a dexterity in applying them; who, from a private and obscure birth (though of a good family), without interest or estate, alliance or friendship, could raise himself to such a height, and compound and knead such opposite and contradictory tempers, humours, and interests into a consistence, that contributed to his designs, and to their own destruction; whilst himself grew insensibly powerful enough to cut off those by whom he had climbed, in the instant that they projected to demolish their own building. What was said of Cinna may very justly be said of him, ausum cum, quæ nemo auderet bonus; perfecisse, quæ a nullo, nisi fortissimo, perfici possent-[ he attempted those things which no good man durst have ventured on, and achieved those in which none but a valiant and great man could have succeeded.'] Without doubt, no man with more wickedness ever attempted anything, or brought to pass what he desired more wickedly more in the face and contempt of religion and moral honesty. Yet wickedness as great as his

After he was confirmed and invested Protector by the humble petition and advice, he consulted with very few upon any action of importance, nor communicated any enterprise he resolved upon with more than those who were to have principal parts in the execution of it; nor with them sooner than was absolutely necessary. What he once resolved, in which he was not rash, he would not be dissuaded from, nor endure any contradiction of his power and authority, but extorted obedience from them who were not willing to yield it.

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Thus he subdued a spirit that had been often troublesome to the most sovereign power, and made Westminster Hall as obedient and subservient to his commands as any of the rest of his quarters. In all other matters, which did not concern the life of his jurisdiction, he seemed to have great reverence for the law, rarely interposing between party and party. As he proceeded with this kind of indignation and haughtiness with those who were refractory, and durst contend with his greatness, so towards all who complied with his good pleasure, and courted his protection, he used great civility, generosity, and bounty.

To reduce three nations, which perfectly hated him, to an entire obedience to all his dictates; to awe and govern those nations by an army that was indevoted to him, and wished his ruin, was an instance of a very prodigious address. But his greatness at home was but a shadow of the glory he had abroad. It was hard to discover which feared him most, France, Spain, or the Low Countries, where his friendship was current at the value he put upon it. As they did all sacrifice their honour and their interest to his pleasure, so there is nothing he could have demanded that either of them would have denied him.

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To conclude his character: Cromwell was not so far a man of blood as to follow Machiavel's method; which prescribes, upon a total alteration of government, as a thing absolutely necessary, to cut off all the heads of those, and extirpate their families, who are friends to the old one. It was confidently reported, that in the council of officers it was more than once proposed, that there might be a general massacre of all the royal party, as the only expedient to secure the government,' but that Cromwell would never consent to it; it may be, out of too great a contempt of his enemies. In a word, as he was guilty of many crimes against which damnation is denounced, and for which hell-fire is prepared, so he had some good qualities which have caused the memory of some men in all ages to be celebrated; and he will be looked upon by posterity as a brave wicked man.

BULSTRODE WHITELOCKE.

BULSTRODE WHITELOCKE (1605-1676), an eminent lawyer, who wrote Memorials of English Affairs from the beginning of the reign of Charles I. to the Restoration, was of principles opposite to those of Lord Clarendon, though, like Selden and other moderate anti-royalists, he was averse to a civil war. Whitelocke was the legal adviser of Hampden during the prosecution of that celebrated patriot for refusing

of the peace over England: in it he had marked down | logical learning, chiefly in the study of the Scriptures. their way of living, and their zeal for religion. He But that which excelled all the rest was, he was poshad studied the matter of the mint, with the exchange sessed with the highest and noblest sense of divine and value of money; so that he understood it well, things that I ever saw in any man. He had no reas appears by his journal. He also understood forti- gard to his person, unless it was to mortify it by a fication, and designed well. He knew all the bar-constant low diet, that was like a perpetual fast. He bours and ports, both of his own dominions, and of had a contempt both of wealth and reputation. He France and Scotland; and how much water they had, seemed to have the lowest thoughts of himself possible, and what was the way of coming into them. He had and to desire that all other persons should think as acquired great knowledge of foreign affairs; so that meanly of him as he did himself. He bore all sorts he talked with the ambassadors about them in such a of ill usage and reproach like a man that took pleamanner, that they filled all the world with the highest sure in it. He had so subdued the natural heat of opinion of him that was possible; which appears in his temper, that in a great variety of accidents, and most of the histories of that age. He had great quick-in a course of twenty-two years' intimate conversation ness of apprehension; and, being mistrustful of his with him, I never observed the least sign of passion memory, used to take notes of almost everything he but upon one single occasion. He brought himself heard; he writ these first in Greek characters, that into so composed a gravity, that I never saw him those about him might not understand them; and laugh, and but seldom smile. And he kept himself afterwards writ them out in his journal. He had a in such a constant recollection, that I do not rememcopy brought him of everything that passed in coun- ber that ever I heard him say one idle word. There cil, which he put in a chest, and kept the key of that was a visible tendency in all he said to raise his own always himself. mind, and those he conversed with, to serious reflecIn a word, the natural and acquired perfections of tions. He seemed to be in a perpetual meditation. his mind were wonderful; but his virtues and true And though the whole course of his life was strict and piety were yet more extraordinary. [He] was ascetical, yet he had nothing of the sourness of temtender and compassionate in a high measure; so that per that generally possesses men of that sort. He was he was much against taking away the lives of here- the freest from superstition, of censuring others, or of tics; and therefore said to Cranmer, when he per- imposing his own methods on them, possible; so that suaded him to sign the warrant for the burning of he did not so much as recommend them to others. Joan of Kent, that he was not willing to do it, because He said there was a diversity of tempers, and every man he thought that was to send her quick to hell. He was to watch over his own, and to turn it in the best expressed great tenderness to the miseries of the poor manner he could. His thoughts were lively, oft out of in his sickness, as hath been already shown. He took the way, and surprising, yet just and genuine. And he particular care of the suits of all poor persons; and had laid together in his memory the greatest treasure gave Dr Cox special charge to see that their petitions of the best and wisest of all the ancient sayings of the were speedily answered, and used oft to consult with heathens as well as Christians, that I have ever known him how to get their matters set forward. He was an any man master of; and he used them in the aptest exact keeper of his word; and therefore, as appears manner possible. He had been bred up with the by his journal, was most careful to pay his debts, and greatest aversion imaginable to the whole frame of the to keep his credit, knowing that to be the chief nerve church of England. From Scotland, his father sent of government; since a prince that breaks his faith, him to travel. He spent some years in France, and and loses his credit, has thrown up that which he can spoke that language like one born there. He came never recover, and made himself liable to perpetual afterwards and settled in Scotland, and had Presbydistrusts and extreme contempt. terian ordination; but he quickly broke through the prejudices of his education. His preaching had a sublimity both of thought and expression in it. The grace and gravity of his pronunciation was such, that few heard him without a very sensible emotion: I am sure I never did. His style was rather too fine; but there was a majesty and beauty in it that left so deep an impression, that I cannot yet forget the sermons I heard him preach thirty years ago. And yet with this he seemed to look on himself as so ordinary a preacher, that while he had a cure, he was ready to employ all others. And when he was a bishop, he chose to preach to small auditories, and would never give notice beforehand he had, indeed, a very low voice, and so could not be heard by a great crowd.

He had, above all things, a great regard to religion. He took notes of such things as he heard in sermons, which more especially concerned himself; and made his measures of all men by their zeal in that matter. ** All men who saw and observed these qualities in him, looked on him as one raised by God for most extraordinary ends; and when he died, concluded that the sins of England had been great, that had provoked God to take from them a prince, under whose government they were like to have seen such blessed times. He was so affable and sweet-natured, that all had free access to him at all times; by which he came to be most universally beloved; and all the high things that could be devised were said by the people to express their esteem of him.

[Character of Leighton, Bishop of Dumblane-His Death.]

[From the History of My Own Times."]

He was the son of Dr Leighton, who had in Archbishop Laud's time writ Zion's Plea against the Prelates,' for which he was condemned in the StarChamber to have his ears cut and his nose slit. He was a man of a violent and ungoverned heat. He sent his eldest son Robert to be bred in Scotland, who was accounted a saint from his youth up. He had great quickness of parts, a lively apprehension, with a charming vivacity of thought and expression. He had the greatest command of the purest Latin that ever I knew in any man. He was a master both of Greek and Hebrew, and of the whole compass of theo

Upon his coming to me [in London], I was amazed to see him, at above seventy, look still so fresh and well, that age seemed as if it were to stand still with him. His hair was still black, and all his motions were lively. He had the same quickness of thought, and strength of memory, but, above all, the same heat and life of devotion, that I had ever seen in him. When I took notice to him upon my first seeing him how well he looked, he told me he was very near his end for all that, and his work and journey both were now almost done. This at that time made no great impression on me. He was the next day taken with an oppression, and as it seemed with a cold and with stitches, which was indeed a pleurisy.

The next day Leighton sunk so, that both speech and sense went away of a sudden. And he continued panting about twelve hours, and then died without pangs or convulsions. I was by him all the while.

Thus I lost him who had been for so many years the he passed through eighteen years of great inequalichief guide of my whole life. He had lived ten years ties; unhappy in the war, in the loss of his father, in Sussex, in great privacy, dividing his time wholly and of the crown of England. Scotland did not only between study and retirement, and the doing of good; receive him, though upon terms hard of digestion, but for in the parish where he lived, and in the parishes made an attempt upon England for him, though a round about, he was always employed in preaching, feeble one. He lost the battle of Worcester with too and in reading prayers. He distributed all he had much indifference. And then he showed more care in charities, choosing rather to have it go through of his person than became one who had so much at other people's hands than his own; for I was his stake. He wandered about England for ten weeks almoner in London. He had gathered a well-chosen after that, hiding from place to place. But, under library of curious as well as useful books, which he all the apprehensions he had then upon him, he showed left to the diocese of Dumblane for the use of the a temper so careless, and so much turned to levity, clergy there, that country being ill provided with that he was then diverting himself with little housebooks. He lamented oft to me the stupidity that he hold sports, in as unconcerned a manner as if he had observed among the commons of England, who seemed made no loss, and had been in no danger at all. He to be much more insensible in the matters of religion got at last out of England. But he had been obliged than the commons of Scotland were. He retained to so many who had been faithful to him, and careful still a peculiar inclination to Scotland; and if he of him, that he seemed afterwards to resolve to make had seen any prospect of doing good there, he would an equal return to them all; and finding it not easy have gone and lived and died among them. In the to reward them all as they deserved, he forgot them short time that the affairs of Scotland were in the all alike. Most princes seem to have this pretty deep Duke of Monmouth's hands, that duke had been pos- in them, and to think that they ought never to resessed with such an opinion of him, that he moved member past services, but that their acceptance of the king to write to him, to go and at least live in them is a full reward. He, of all in our age, exerted Scotland, if he would not engage in a bishopric there. this piece of prerogative in the amplest manner; for But that fell with that duke's credit. He was in his he never seemed to charge his memory, or to trouble last years turned to a greater severity against popery his thoughts, with the sense of any of the services that than I had imagined a man of his temper and of his had been done him. While he was abroad at Paris, largeness in point of opinion was capable of. He Colen, or Brussels, he never seemed to lay anything spoke of the corruptions, of the secular spirit, and of to heart. He pursued all his diversions and irregular the cruelty that appeared in that church, with an pleasures in a free career, and seemed to be as serene extraordinary concern; and lamented the shameful under the loss of a crown as the greatest philosopher advances that we seemed to be making towards popery. could have been. Nor did he willingly hearken to He did this with a tenderness and an edge that I did any of those projects with which he often complained not expect from so recluse and mortified a man. He that his chancellor persecuted him. That in which looked on the state the church of England was in he seemed most concerned was, to find money for supwith very melancholy reflections, and was very uneasy porting his expense. And it was often said, that if at an expression then much used, that it was the best Cromwell would have compounded the matter, and constituted church in the world. He thought it was have given him a good round pension, that he might truly so with relation to the doctrine, the worship, have been induced to resign his title to him. During and the main part of our government; but as to the his exile, he delivered himself so entirely to his pleaadministration, both with relation to the ecclesiasti-sures, that he became incapable of application. He cal courts and the pastoral care, he looked on it as spent little of his time in reading or study, and yet one of the most corrupt he had ever seen. He thought less in thinking. And in the state his affairs were we looked like a fair carcass of a body without a then in, he accustomed himself to say to every person, spirit, without that zeal, that strictness of life, and and upon all occasions, that which he thought would that laboriousness in the clergy, that became us. please most; so that words or promises went very easily from him. And he had so ill an opinion of mankind, that he thought the great art of living and governing was, to manage all things and all persons with a depth of craft and dissimulation. And in that few men in the world could put on the appearances of sincerity better than he could; under which 80 much artifice was usually hid, that in conclusion he could deceive none, for all were become mistrustful of him. He had great vices, but scarce any virtues to correct them. He had in him some vices that were less hurtful, which corrected his more hurtful ones. He was, during the active part of life, given up to sloth and lewdness to such a degree, that he hated business, and could not bear the engaging in anything that gave him much trouble, or put him under any constraint. And though he desired to become absolute, and to overturn both our religion and our laws, yet he would neither run the risk, nor give himself the trouble, which so great a design required. He had an appearance of gentleness in his outward deportment; but he seemed to have no bowels nor tenderness in his nature, and in the end of his life he became cruel. He was apt to forgive all crimes, even blood itself, yet he never forgave anything that was done against himself, after his first and general act of indemnity, which was to be reckoned as done rather upon maxims of state than inclinations of

There were two remarkable circumstances in his death. He used often to say, that if he were to choose a place to die in, it should be an inn; it looking like a pilgrim's going home, to whom this world was all as an inn, and who was weary of the noise and confusion in it. He added, that the officious tenderness and care of friends was an entanglement to a dying man; and that the unconcerned attendance of those that could be procured in such a place would give less disturbance. And he obtained what he desired, for he died at the Bell Inn in Warwick Lane. Another circumstance was, that while he was bishop in Scotland, he took what his tenants were pleased to pay him. So that there was a great arrear due, which was raised slowly by one whom he left in trust with his affairs there. And the last payment that he could expect from thence was returned up to him about six weeks before his death. So that his provision and journey failed both at once.

[Character of Charles II.]
[From the same.]

Thus lived and died King Charles II. He was the greatest instance in history of the various revolutions of which any one man seemed capable. He was bred up the first twelve years of his life with the splendour that became the heir of so great a crown. After that,