FROM THE HYDRIOTAPHIA.

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tients,1 or Achilles's horses in Homer, under naked nominations, without deserts and noble acts, which are the balsam of our memories, the essence and soul of our subsistences? To be nameless in worthy deeds exceeds an infamous history. The Canaanitish woman

lives more happily without a name, than Herodias with one. who had not rather have been the good thief than Pilate ?

And

But the iniquity of oblivion blindly scattereth her poppy, and deals with the memory of men without distinction to merit of perpetuity. Who can but pity the founder of the pyramids ? Herostratus lives that burnt the temple of Diana, he is almost lost that built it. Time hath spared the epitaph of Adrian's horse, confounded that of himself. In vain we compute our felicities by the advantage of our good names, since bad have equal durations, and Thersites is like to live as long as Agamemnon. Who knows whether the best of men be known, or whether there be not more remarkable persons forgot than any that stand remembered in the known account of time? Without the favour of the everlasting register, the first man had been as unknown as the last, and Methuselah's long life had been his only chronicle.

Oblivion is not to be hired. The greater part must be content to be as though they had not been, to be found in the register of God, not in the record of man. Twenty-seven names make up the first story before the flood, and the recorded names ever since contain not one living century. The number of the dead long exceedeth all that shall live. The night of time far surpasseth the day, and who knows when was the equinox? Every hour adds unto that current arithmetic, which scarce stands one moment. And since it cannot be long before we lie down in darkness, and have our light in ashes ;2 since the brother of death3 daily haunts us with dying mementos, and time, that grows old in itself, bids us hope no long duration; diuturnity is a dream and folly of expectation.

A great part of antiquity contented their hopes of subsistency with a transmigration of their souls,-a good way to continue their memories, while having the advantage of plural successions, they could not but act something remarkable in such variety of beings, and enjoy the fame of their past selves, make accumulation of glory unto their last durations. Others, rather than be lost in the uncomfortable night of nothing, were content to recede into the common being, and make one particle of the public soul of all things, which was no more than to return into their unknown and divine original again. Egyptian ingenuity was more unsatisfied, contriving their bodies in sweet consistences, to attend the return of their souls. But all was vanity, feeding the wind, and folly. The Egyptian mummies which Cambyses or time hath spared, avarice now con

1 Hippocrates was a famous physician of Cos, in the fourth century B.C.

2 According to the custom of the Jews, who placed a lighted wax candle in a pot of ashes by the corpse. 3 Sleep.

4 i. e., to wait for. Browne alludes to the Egyptian practice of embalming, founded on the belief that, if the body was preserved, the soul would again reanimate it.

sumeth. Mummy is become merchandise, Mizraim cures wounds, and Pharaoh is sold for balsams.

XIII. LORD CLARENDON.

EDWARD HYDE, Lord Clarendon, was born at Dinton in Wilts, in 1608. He was descended of an ancient and highly respectable family, which had already given to England several eminent lawyers. After a short residence at Oxford, he devoted himself to the same profession, and was entered in the Middle Temple, where he enjoyed the friendship of many of the most eminent men of the day, Lord Falkland, Ben Jonson, Sir Kenelm Digby, Selden, Hales, and Chillingworth. His rank, influence, and ability procured for him a seat in Parliament, and he speedily acquired a respectable standing in the House. In the Long Parliament, he was from the first one of the most conspicuous members, and one of that party who desired a redress of grievances and a moderate reform, without any violent alteration of the constitution; and when matters proceeded to an extreme which threatened an appeal to the sword, he sided openly with the King. During the war he was in constant attendance upon Charles, and most of the able papers issued by the King during the continuance of hostilities were from the pen of Clarendon. On the utter prostration of the royalists in England, he escaped to France, where Charles II. appointed him Lord Chancellor, and committed to him the management of his affairs. After the Restoration, he was created Earl of Clarendon, and for some time was the chief adviser of the thoughtless monarch. But his stern integrity at length became intolerable to the dissolute Charles and his unprincipled favourites, while at the same time he had become unpopular by his attempt to strengthen the royal prerogative; and thus deserted by all parties, and threatened with an impeachment, he fled to the Continent, where he died at Rouen in 1674. His chief work is his "History of the Rebellion," written to defend, as far as possible, the proceedings of Charles I. Its style, from superabundance of matter, is heavy and lumbering, generally dignified, but never elegant or lively. The narrative is overlaid with details, and is consequently unimpressive; but in power of delineating character he has not been surpassed by any English writer. His accuracy has been of late much questioned, but it must be remembered that he writes professedly as a royalist, and he therefore naturally dwells but slightly on the faults of his party, and puts the best face upon their proceedings. His incorruptible integrity altogether forbids the supposition that he would willingly falsify his narrative; and if, in the great accumulation of details which his voluminous history comprises, inaccuracies and contradictions are found, many of these must be at once ascribed to the carelessness or insincerity of his informants; and as to others, it may be doubted whether the influence of hostile politics, and the spirit of the verbal criticism of the present day, which is so apt to elevate trifles into importance, have not unduly magnified the defects of one who, after every deduction has been made, must be admitted to be one of our greatest historians.

CHARACTER OF HAMPDEN.

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1. CHARACTER OF HAMPDEN.-(" HISTORY OF THE REBELLION," P. 396. OXFORD EDITION, 1843.)

Hampden was a gentleman of a good family in Buckinghamshire, and born to a fair fortune, and of a most civil and affable deportment. In his entrance into the world, he indulged to himself all the licence in sports, and exercises, and company, which was used by men of the most jolly conversation. Afterwards, he retired to a more reserved and melancholy society, yet preserving his own natural cheerfulness and vivacity, and, above all, a flowing courtesy to all men; though they who conversed nearly with him found him growing into a dislike of the ecclesiastical government of the church, yet most believed it rather a dislike of some churchmen,' and of some introducements of theirs, which he apprehended might disturb the public peace. He was rather of reputation in his own country, than of public discourse or fame in the kingdom, before the business of ship-money; but then he grew the argument of all tongues, every man inquiring who and what he was that durst, at his own charge, support the liberty and property of the kingdom, and rescue his country, as he thought, from being made a prey to the court. His carriage throughout this agitation was with that rare temper and modesty that they who watched him narrowly to find some advantage against his person, to make him less resolute in his cause, were compelled to give him a just testimony. And the judgment that was given against him infinitely more advanced him than the service for which it was given. When this parliament2 began (being returned knight of the shire for the county where he lived), the eyes of all men were fixed on him as their country's father, and the pilot that must steer the vessel through the tempests and rocks which threatened it. And I am persuaded his power and interest at that time was greater to do good or hurt than any man's in the kingdom, or than any man in his rank hath had in any time; for his reputation of honesty was universal, and his affections seemed so publicly guided that no corrupt or private ends could bias them.

He was of that rare affability and temper in debate, and of that seeming humility and submission of judgment, as if he brought no opinion with him, but a desire of information and instruction; yet he had so subtle a way of interrogating, and, under the notion of doubts, insinuating his objections, that he left his opinions with those from whom he pretended to learn and receive them. And even with them who were able to preserve themselves from his infusions, and discerned those opinions to be fixed in him, with which they could not comply, he always left the character of an ingenious3 and conscientious person. He was indeed a very wise man, and of great parts, and possessed with the most absolute spirit of popularity, that is, the most absolute faculties to govern the people, of any man I ever knew. For the first year of the parliament, he seemed rather 1 e. g., Laud. 2 The Long Parliament. 3 i. e., ingenuous.

to moderate and soften the violent and distempered humours than to inflame them. But wise and dispassioned men plainly discerned that that moderation proceeded from prudence and observation that the season was not ripe, rather than that he approved of the moderation; and that he begat many opinions and notions, the education whereof he committed to other men; so far disguising his own designs that he seemed seldom to wish more than was concluded: and in many gross conclusions, which would hereafter contribute to designs not yet set on foot, when he found them sufficiently backed by majority of voices, he would withdraw himself before the question, that he might seem not to consent to so much visible unreasonableness; which produced as great a doubt in some as it did approbation in others of his integrity. What combination soever had been originally with the Scots for the invasion of England, and what farther was entered into afterwards in favour of them, and to advance any alteration in parliament, no man doubts was at least with the privity of this gentleman.

After he was among those members accused by the king of high treason he was much altered; his nature and carriage seeming much fiercer than it did before. And, without question, when he first drew his sword he threw away the scabbard; for he passionately opposed the overture made by the king for a treaty from Nottingham, and as eminently, any expedients that might have produced any accommodations in this that was at Oxford; and was principally relied on to prevent any infusions which might be made into the Earl of Essex towards peace, or to render them ineffectual if they were made; and was indeed much more relied on by that party than the general himself. In the first entrance into the troubles he undertook the command of a regiment of foot, and performed the duty of a colonel, on all occasions, most punctually. He was very temperate in diet, and a supreme governor over all his passions and affections, and had thereby a great power over other men's. He was of an industry and vigilance not to be tired out or wearied by the most laborious; and of parts not to be imposed upon by the most subtle or sharp; and of a personal courage equal to his best parts so that he was an enemy not to be wished wherever he might have been made a friend; and as much to be apprehended where he was so, as any man could deserve to be. And therefore his death was no less congratulated on the one party than it was condoled in the other. In a word, what was said of Cinna might well be applied to him: "He had a head to contrive, and a tongue to persuade, and a hand to execute any mischief." His death, therefore, seemed to be a great deliverance to the nation.

2. BATTLE OF DUNBAR.-("HISTORY," P. 751.)

In July Cromwell entered Scotland, and marched without any opposition till he came within less than a day's journey of Edinburgh; where he found the Scottish army encamped upon a very

advantageous ground; and he made his quarters as near as he could conveniently, and yet with disadvantages enough; for the country was so destroyed behind him, and the passes so guarded before, that he was compelled to send for all his provision for horse and foot from England by sea (and Cromwell being seized upon by a fever, which held him about six weeks, during which time the army lay still); insomuch as the army was reduced to great straits; and the Scots really believed that they had them all at their mercy, except such as would embark on board their ships. But as soon as Cromwell had recovered a little strength, his army began to remove, and seemed to provide for their march. Whether that march was to retire out of so barren a country for want of provisions (which, no doubt, were very scarce; and the season of the year would not permit them to depend upon all necessary supplies by sea, for it was now the month of September), or whether that motion was only to draw the Scots from the advantageous post of which they were possessed, is not yet understood. But it was confessed on all sides, that, if the Scots had remained within their trenches, and sent parties of horse to have followed the English army closely, they must have so disordered them, that they would have left their cannon and all their heavy carriage behind them, besides the danger the foot must have been in. But the Scots did not intend to part with them so easily; they doubted not but to have the spoil of the whole army. And, therefore, they no sooner discerned that the English were upon their march but they decamped, and followed with their whole body all the night following, and found themselves in the morning within a small distance of the enemy; for Cromwell was quickly advertised that the Scottish army was dislodged, and marched after him; and thereupon he made a stand, and put his men in good order. The Scots found they were not upon so clear a chase as they imagined, and placed themselves again upon such a side of a hill as they believed the English would not have the courage to attack them there.

But Cromwell knew them too well to fear them upon any ground, when there were no trenches or fortifications to keep him from them; and therefore he made haste to charge them on all sides, upon what advantage-ground soever they stood. Their horse did not sustain one charge; but fled, and were pursued with a great execution. The foot depended much upon their ministers, who preached, and prayed, and assured them of the victory, till the English were upon them; and some of their preachers were knocked on the head whilst they were promising the victory. Though there was so little resistance made, that Cromwell lost very few men by that day's service, yet the execution was very terrible upon the enemy; the whole body of the foot being, upon the matter, cut in pieces; no quarter was given till they were weary of killing; so that there were between five and six thousand dead upon the place; and very few, but they who escaped by the heels of their horse, were without terrible wounds, of which very many died shortly after;