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occasion, and resolved that this provocation, in which other places were not involved, and which nobody could excuse, should warrant all kind of severity in that city, even to the pulling down their temples, and expelling many of them for ever out of the city; which, with the execution and forfeiture of many of the principal persons, would be a general mortification to all of the religion in France; with whom they were heartily offended: and a part of the army was forthwith ordered to march towards Nismes, to see this executed with the utmost rigour.

Those of the religion in the town were quickly sensible into what condition they had brought themselves; and sent with all possible submission to the magistrates to excuse themselves, and to impute what had been done to the rashness of particular men, who had no order for what they did. The magistrates answered, That they were glad they were sensible of their miscarriage; but they could say nothing upon the subject, till the king's pleasure should be known; to whom they had sent a full relation of all that had passed.' The others very well knew what the king's pleasure would be, and forthwith sent an express, one Moulins, who had lived many years in that place, and in Montpelier, to Cromwell, to desire his protection and interposition. The express made so much haste, and found so good a reception the first hour he came, that Cromwell, after he had received the whole account, bade him, 'refresh himself after so long a journey, and he would take such care of his business that by the time he came to Paris he should find it dispatched;' and, that night, sent away another messenger to his ambassador Lockhart; who, by the time Moulins came thither, had so far prevailed with the cardinal, that orders were sent to stop the troops, which were upon their march towards Nismes; and within a few days after, Moulins returned with a full pardon

and amnesty from the king, under the great seal of France, so fully confirmed with all circumstances, that there was never further mention made of it; but all things passed as if there had never been any such thing. So that nobody can wonder that his memory remains still in those parts, and with those people, in great veneration.

He would never suffer himself to be denied any thing he ever asked of the cardinal, alleging, 'that the people would not be otherwise satisfied;' which the cardinal bore very heavily, and complained of to those with whom he would be free. One day he visited Madam Turenne, and when he took his leave of her, she, according to her custom, besought him to continue gracious to the churches. Whereupon the cardinal told her, 'That he knew not how to behave himself; if he advised the king to punish and suppress their insolence, Cromwell threatened him to join the Spaniards: and if he showed any favour to them, at Rome they accounted him a heretic.'

To conclude his character, Cromwell was not so far a man of blood as to follow Macchiavel'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 age to be celebrated; and he will be looked upon by posterity as a brave wicked man.

JOHN BUNYAN.

JOHN BUNYAN, the son of a tinker, was born at Elstow, in Bedfordshire, in 1628; after receiving some little instruction in reading and writing he resolved to follow his father's trade, and travelled for many years about the country in this capacity. He represents himself as having during this period been deeply sunk in profligacy, but in 1665 he resolved to lead a religions life, and was induced to become a preacher to a Baptist congregation. He retained this post five years, at the end of which time he was apprehended as an upholder of unlawful religions assemblies and confined in Bedford jail, where he

CHRISTIAN IN THE HANDS OF
GIANT DESPAIR.

Now there was, not far from the place where they lay, a castle, called Doubting Castle, the owner whereof was Giant Despair, and it was in his grounds they now were sleeping: wherefore he, getting up in the morning early, and walking up and down in his fields, caught Christian and Hopeful asleep in his grounds. Then with a grim and surly voice, he bid them awake, and asked them whence they were, and what they did in his grounds? They told him they were pilgrims, and that they had lost their way. Then said the giant, You have this night trespassed on me, by trampling and lying on my ground, and therefore you must go along with me. So they were forced to go, because he was stronger than they. They also had but little to say, for they knew themselves in fault. The giant, therefore, drove them before him, and put them into his castle, in a very dark dungeon, nasty and stinking to the spirits of those two men. Here they lay from Wednesday morning till Saturday night, without one bit of bread, or drop of drink, or light, or any to ask how they did: they were therefore here in evil case, and were far from friends and acquaintance. Now, in this place Christian had double sorrow, because it was through his unadvised haste that they were brought into this distress.

Now, Giant Despair had a wife, and her name was Diffidence: so when he was gone to bed, he told his wife what he had done, to wit, that he had taken a couple of prisoners and cast them

remained for twelve years and a half, and wrote several works of which that entitled "The Pilgrim's Progress from this World into that which is to come' is the most celebrated. This allegorical work is, as its title denotes, a description of the life of a Christian. After being released from imprisonment, he resumed his occupation of an intinerant preacher until the proclamation of liberty to his sect was issued by James II., when he erected a meeting-house in Bedford, of which he became the clergyman, and many attended his preaching. He died when on a visit to London in 1688 in the sixty-first year of his age.

into his dungeon, for trespassing on his grounds. Then he asked her also what he had best to do further to them. So she asked him what they were, whence they came, and whither they were bound, and he told her. Then she counselled him, that when he arose in the morning, he should beat them without mercy. So when he arose, he getteth him a grievous crab-tree (1) cudgel, and goes down into the dungeon to them, and there first falls to rating them as if they were dogs, although they never gave him a word of distaste: (2) then he falls upon them, and beats them fearfully, in such sort that they were not able to help themselves, or turn them upon the floor. This done, he withdraws, and leaves them there to condole (3) their misery, and to mourn under their distress: so all that day they spent their time in nothing but sighs and bitter lamentations. The next night she talked with her husband about them further, and understanding that they were yet alive, did advise him to counsel them to make away with themselves. when morning was come, he goes to them in a surly manner, as before, and perceiving them to be very sore with the stripes that he had given them the day before, he told them, that since they were never like to come out of that place, their only way would be forthwith to make an end of themselves, either with knife, halter, or poison: For why, said he, should you choose life, seeing it is attended with so much

So

(1) Wild apple-tree. (2) Dislike, anger. (3) Complain of.

bitterness? But they desired him to let them go; with which he looked ugly upon them, and rushing to them, had doubtless made an end to them himself, but that he fell into one of his fits (for he sometimes in sun-shiny weather fell into fits), and lost for a time the use of his hands: wherefore he withdrew, and left them, as before, to consider what to do. Then did the prisoners consult between themselves whether it was best to take his counsel or no; and thus they began to dis

course:

Chr. Brother, said Christian, what shall we do? The life that we now live is miserable. For my part, I know not whether it is best to live thus, or die out of hand. 'My soul chooseth strangling rather than life,' and the grave is more easy for me than this dungeon! Shall we be ruled by the giant?

Hope. Indeed our present condition is dreadful, and death would be far more welcome to me, than thus for ever to abide but let us consider, the . Lord of the country to which we are going hath said, Thou shalt do no murder: no, not to any man's person; much more then are we forbidden to take his counsel to kill ourselves. Besides, he that kills another can but commit murder on his own body; but for one to kill himself, is to kill body and soul at once. And, moreover, my brother, thou talkest of ease in the grave; but hast thou forgotten hell, whither for certain the murderers go? For no murderer hath eternal life, &c. And let us consider, again, that all laws are not in the hand of Giant Despair; others, so far as I can understand, have been taken by him as well as we, and yet have escaped out of his hands. Who knows but that God, who made the world, may cause that Giant Despair may die; or that, at some time or other, he may forget to lock us in; or that he may in a short time have another of his fits before us, and may lose the use of his limbs? and if ever that should come to pass again, for my part I am resolved to

pluck up the heart of a man, and to try my utmost to get from under his hand." I was a fool that I did not try to do it before; but, however, my brother, let us be patient, and endure a while: the time may come that he may give us a happy release; but let us not be our own murderers. With these words Hopeful at present did moderate the mind of his brother; so they continued together (in the dark) that day in their sad and doleful condition.

Well, towards the evening, the giant goes down into the dungeon again, to see if his prisoners had taken his counsel; but when he came there he found them alive; and truly, alive was all; for now, what for want of bread and water, and by reason of the wounds they received when he beat them, they could do little but breathe. But, I say, he found them alive; at which he fell into a grievous rage, and told them, that seeing they had disobeyed his counsel, it should be worse with them than if they had never been born.

At this they trembled greatly, and I think that Christian fell into a swoon: but coming a little to himself again, they renewed their discourse about the giant's counsel, and whether yet they had best take it or no. Now, Christian again seemed to be for doing it; but Hopeful made his second reply as followeth :

Hope. My brother, said he, rememberest thou not how valiant thou hast been heretofore? What hardships, terror, and amazement, hast thou already gone through, and art thou now nothing but fear? Thou seest that I am in the dungeon with thee, a far weaker man by nature than you art; also this giant has wounded me as well as thee, and hath also cut off the bread and water from my mouth, and with thee I mourn without the light. But let us exercise a little more patience.

Now, night being come again, and the giant and his wife being a-bed, she asked concerning the prisoners, and it they had taken his counsel; to which he replied, They are sturdy rogues:

BUNYAN.

they choose rather to bear all hardships than to make away with themselves. Then said she, Take them into the castle-yard to-morrow, and show them the bones and skulls of those thou hast already despatched, and make them believe, ere a week comes to an end, thou wilt also tear them in pieces, as thou hast done their fellows before them.

So when the morning was come, the giant goes to them again, and takes them into the castle-yard, and shows them as his wife had bidden him. These, said he, were pilgrims, as you are, once; and they trespassed in my grounds, as you have done; and, when I thought fit, I tore them in pieces; and so within ten days I will do you; go, get ye down to your den again; and with that he beat them all the way thither.

They lay, therefore, all day on Saturday in a lamentable case, as before. Now, when night was come, and when Mrs. Diffidence and her husband the giant were got to bed, they began to renew their discourse of their prisoners; and, withal, the old giant wondered that he could neither by his blows nor And counsel bring them to an end. with that his wife replied, I fear, said she, that they live in hope that some will come to relieve them, or that they have pick-locks about them, by the means of which they hope to escape. And sayest thou so, my dear? said the giant: I will therefore search them in the morning.

Well, on Saturday, about midnight, they began to pray, and continued in prayer till almost break of day.

Now, a little before it was day, good Christian, as one half amazed, brake in this passionate speech: What fool am I thus to lie in a stinking

out

dungeon, when I may as well walk at liberty? I have a key in my bosom, called Promise, that will, I am persuaded, open any lock in Doubting Castle. Then said Hopeful, That's good news, good brother; pluck it out of thy bosom and try.

Then Christian pulled it out of his bosom, and began to try at the dungeondoor, whose bolt (as he turned the key) gave back, (1) and the door flew open Then he went to the with ease, and Christian and Hopeful both came out. outer door that leads into the castleyard, and with his key opened that door also. After, he went to the iron gate, for that must be opened too; but that lock went very hard, yet the key did open it. Then they thrust open the door to make their escape with speed, but that gate, as it opened, made such a cracking, that it waked Giant Despair, who hastily rising to pursue his prisoners, felt his limbs to fail; for his Then fits took him again, so that he could means go after them. by no were safe, because they went on, and came to the king's highway, and so they were out of his jurisdiction.

Now, when they were gone over the stile, they began to contrive with themselves what they should do at that stile to prevent those that should come after from falling into the hands of Giant Despair. So they consented to erect there a pillar, and to engrave upon the stile thereof this sentence:-'Over this stile is the way to Doubting Castle, which is kept by Giant Despair, who despiseth the King of the Celestial Country, and seeks to destroy his holy pilgrims.' Many, therefore, that followed after, read what was written, and escaped the danger.

(1) Gave way.

FROM THE REIGN OF QUEEN ANNE TILL THE YEAR 1780.

I. THE WITS OF QUEEN ANNE'S REIGN.

ALEXANDER POPE.

THIS eminent and distinguished poet was born in London on the 21st of May 1688. His youthful days were passed in Windsor Forest, whose beautiful scenery tended to inspire him with a love of nature, and to awake in him poetical ideas. At the age of twelve, Pope wrote his 'Ode to Solitude,' which gave great promise of future genius. At the age of sixteen he produced his Pastorals, or Spring, Summer, Autumn and Winter.' In 1709 appeared his Ode on St. Cecilia's Day, in 1711 his Essay on Criticism, in which latter poem the author shows a vast amount of profound reading and ripe judgment. "The Rape of the Lock, The Temple of Fame,' and the 'Elegy on an unfortunate Lady' followed: in 1713 appeared his 'Windsor Forest," written in 1704; in 1716 the Epistle from Eloisa to Abelard' and in 1733 his 'Essay on Man.' In 1727 he published, in conjunction with Swift, his 'Miscellanies' in prose and verse, which

SELF-KNOWLEDGE.

Know thou thyself, presume not God to

scan,

The proper study of mankind is Man.
Placed on this isthmus of a middle state,
A being darkly wise, and rudely great;
With too much knowledge for the Sceptic
side,

5

With too much weakness for the Stoic's
pride,

He hangs between; in doubt to act, or rest,
In doubt to deem himself a God, or beast;
In doubt his mind or body to prefer;
Born but to die, and reasoning but to err;
Alike in ignorance, his reason such,
Whether he thinks too little, or too much;
Chaos of thought and passion, all confused;
Still by himself abused or disabused;
Created half to rise, and half to fall;
Great lord of all things, yet a prey to all;
Sole judge of truth, in endless error hurled;
The glory, jest, and riddle of the world!

15

Go, wondrous creature! mount where
Science guides;

drew down upon the authors a torrent of invective, and ultimately led to the publication of the 'Dunciad' by Pope; but although the critics were so powerfully an swered by his biting satire, their abuse produced its effect upon him, soured his temper, and embittered his later days. From 1713 to 1725 Pope employed himself in his celebrated work-the Translation of Homer's Iliad and Odyssey,' of which he could write fifty verses a day. It is universally considered that he has ret been successful in giving a correct idea of the original, although the publication was at the time greatly up plauded. Between the years 1733 and 1740 Pope gave to the world his Satires, Epistles and Moral Essays. and in 1742 added a fourth book to the Duucind, de scribing the reign of the Goddess of Duliness upon Earth and the millenium of ignorance and stupidity Pope died on the 30th of May 1744 at Twickenham, where he was also interred.

Or tread the mazy round his followers trol,
And, quitting sense, call imitating God;
As castern priests in giddy circles run,
And turn their heads to imitate the Sun.
Go, teach Eternal Wisdom how to rule-
Then drop into thyself, and be a fool! a
(Essay on Man.)

THE ORDER OF NATURE.
See through this air, this ocean, and this
earth,

All matter quick, and bursting into birth.
Above, how high progressive life may go'
Around, how wide! how deep extend below!
Vast chain of Being! which from Gol
began,

Natures ethereal, human, angel, man,
Beast, bird, fish, insect, what no eye can see,
No glass can reach; from Infinite to thee,
From thee to Nothing. -On superior pow'r
Were we to press, inferior might on ours
Or in the full creation leave a void,
Where one step broken the great seale
destroy'd:

From Nature's chain whatever link you
strike,
20 Tenth or ten thousandth, breaks the chan
alike.

Go, measure earth, weigh air, and state
the tides;
Instruct the planets in what orbs to run,
Correct old Time, and regulate the Sun;
Go, soar with Plato to the empyreal sphere,
To the first good, first perfect, and first fair;

And, if each system in gradation roll Alike essential to th'amazing whole,

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