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ters—such as Hume, Johnson, Southey, and oth-ent; perhaps he was a Deist; he died a Roman ers—have too often been careless in their facts, Catholic. The duke, his brother, was an uncomand how our worst writers in point of style have promising Papist. The king disliked the Presbeen painfully minute in their pins' heads of par- byterians; the ill-bred familiarity of the Scotch ticulars. The lives, by Strype, of the various divines had given bim a distaste for that part of churchmen in the time of Queen Elizabeth ; the the Protestant religion. The church for which biographies of Dr. Birch ; and the Life of Dry- his father lost his head was as little to his liking ; den by Malone, are so many storehouses of minute sectaries of all kinds he viewed with fear and and even extraneous information. The student disgust. His licentious course of life led him to of English history--we use the word in its wide repose at last on the bosom of a forgiving and insense—will seldom quit their pages without finding fallible church, and the easy nature of his temperwhat he seeks, and without carrying away much ament to enforce an Act of Uniformity at one curious matter, foreign, it is true, from his sub- time, and a Declaration of Indulgence at another. ject, but still important. The rare art is to com- Barrow and South were as little to his taste and bine the two great qualities of research and style. inclination as Calamy and Baxter. He would A Strype and Southey combined would make a not trust sufficiently to his own sense of what was perfect biographer, and a Life by their united ex- just and proper, but threw himself into the hands ertions a complete biography.
of others, who used him as a means to their own No country is richer in worthies than Great evil ends, or their own personal aggrandizement. Britain, or richer in materials for the proper com- This was his father's fault; but the father did pilation of their Lives. But these materials lie think, and then allowed himself to be overruled : scattered over so many volumes-some small and while the son was ruled, to save himself the scarce, and consequently dear, others large and trouble of thinking at all. expensive. The student of English history is per- Raleigh wrote his History of the World in the petually at a loss for a good Biographia Britan- prison of the Tower; Wither, his Shepherds Huntnica. He feels a difficulty at every turn, and ing within the walls of the Marshalsea ; Lovelace, wanders out of his way in search of information his little poem on the Freedom of the Mind within which one good work should supply to his hand the Westminster Gate House ; and Bunyan, his
We have, it is true, several sets of glorious dream of the Pilgrim's Progress in the Lives. Johnson wrote the Lives of the Poets from gaol at Bedford. Raleigh perished on the block; Cowley to Gray; Campbell the Lives of the Brit- and Lovelace in a Shoe Lane lodging, surrounded, ish Admirals ; Macdiarmid the Lives of the British it is said, by want. Wither was afterwards an inStatesmen ; Allen Cunningham, the Lives of the mate of Newgate and the Tower; but Bunyan had British Artists ; and Sir Walter Scott, the Lives a happier end. State matters were of very little of the British Novelists. All possess a variety of moment to honest John Bunyan; and, so long as merits, and some of the shorter Lives are good he was allowed to preach the Lord openly and honspecimens of matter and manner. But the Bi- estly, his happiness was at its height ; and this he ographia Britannica, though a century old, is still was allowed to do unmolested from the period of our great storehouse of facts; nor is it likely, his enlargement till his death. The fruit of his from what we hear, to be soon supplanted. This imprisonment is before the world ; the true hiswe regret, because the Lives of British Worthiestory of his release has yet to be related. should be a British undertaking-one that would The toleration promised by the king at Breda prove, when properly performed, a far nobler was wholly overlooked in the act of uniformity; monument to their memories than the statues in and Bunyan was one of the first persons after the bronze about the squares of London, or the statues restoration, who was punished for disobedience of in marble that choke Westminster Abbey, or the law. He was unwilling to desist from preachstand half seen within St. Paul's.
ing the word of God, and was imprisoned for his We have been led into these remarks from a re- preaching. Twelve long years was Bunyan an perusal of Mr. Southey's “ Life of Bunyan," in inmate of Bedford gaol; and he at length owed Mr. Murray's Colonial Library; and from the his release to accident, and to his old enemies the recent publication of a new Life of the fine old Quakers. After the fatal fight at Worcester, the Baptist dreamer by Mr. George Godwin, before king made his way, it is well known, through danMr. Selous' illustrated edition of the Pilgrim's gers and difficulties, to the sea-side at Shoreham, Progress. Mr. Southey exhausted the stores from whence he effected his escape, by a small of his own shelves and the supply of books fishing-vessel, to the coast of France. The maswhich his publisher had sent him in the composi- ter and mate of this little vessel were Quakers, as tion of his biography. Mr. Godwin exhibits a we gather from the following interesting letter, spirit of patient investigation, and the recent an- hitherto unpublished, from Ellis Hookes to the notator of Southey's Life a love of reference and wife of Fox, the founder of the sect of Quakers. research, which merit imitation. But the Life of The original letter is preserved among the Quaker Bunyan, though inimitably well written by Mr. records at Devonshire House in Bishopsgate Southey, and succinctly compiled by Mr. Godwin, Street :has yet to be written, not at greater length, we must allow, but with the new materials which
" For Thomas Greene, shopkeeper in Lancaster. fresh investigation cannot fail to produce; and, in
“For M. F. the hope that some pains-taking inquirer will go
[January, 1669-70.] into the subject forth with, we here contribute a Yesterday there was a friend with the king, new and important fact in the consideration of one that is John Grove's mate. He was the man Bunyan's life to the future biographer of this that was mate to the master of the fisher-boat that Spenser of the people.”
carried the king away when he went from WorNo kind of religion was safe under Charles II. cester fight, and only this friend and the master Persecution prevailed at one time, and toleration knew of it in the ship, and the friend carried him at another. The king was careless and indiffer-|(the king) ashore on his shoulders. The king
knew him again and was very friendly to him, and a pardon.” And Sir Orlando Bridgman, the lord told him he remembered him, and of several things keeper, added, “I told them that they cannot be that were done in the ship at the same time. The legally discharged but by a pardon under the great friend told him the reason why he did not come all seal." this while was that he was satisfied in that he had The king's Declaration of Indulgence was pubpeace and satisfaction in himself, and that he did lished on the 15th of March, 1672, and on the 8th what he did to relieve a man in distress, and now of May the following order was given :he desired nothing of him but that he would set
"At the Court of Whitehall, the 8th of May, 1672. friends at liberty who were great sufferers, and told the king he had with him a paper of 110 that
“ His majesty was graciously pleased to declare were præmunired, that had lain in prison about six that he will pardon all those persons called Quakers years, and none can release them but him. So now in prison for any offence committed only reihe king took the paper and said, that there were
lating to his majesty and not to the prejudice of many of them, and that they would be in again in any other persons. And it was thereupon ordered a month's time, and that the country gentlemen by his majesty in council that a list of the names complained to him that they were troubled with of the Quakers in the several prisons, together the Quakers. So he said he would release him with the causes of their commitment, be, and is, six. But the friend thinks to go to himn again, for herewith sent to his majesty's attorney-general, he had not fully relieved himself.”
who is required and authorized to prepare a bill
for his majesty's royal signature, containing a This highly interesting letter is endorsed by Fox pardon to pass the great seal of England for all himself, "E. Hookes to M. F., of passages con- such to whom his majesty may legally grant the cerning Richard Carver that carried the king of his same,” &c. back. 1669."
The following letter was sent from the council Hookes' next letter among the Quaker papers board at Whitehall to the sheriffs of the different is addressed to Fox, the founder of the sect :- counties : “[February, 1669–70.]
“ After our hearty commendations. Whereas, “ Dear G. F.,-As for the friend that was with request hath been made unto his majesty, in behalf the king, his love is to thee. He has been with of the Quakers who remain at present in several the king lately, and Thomas Moore was with him, gaols and prisons of his kingdom, that his majesty and the king was very loving to them. He had a
would be pleased to extend his mercy towards fair and free opportunity to open his mind to the them, and give order for their relief; which his king, and the king has promised to do for him, but majesty, taking into consideration, hath thought willed him to wait a month or two longer. I rest fit, in order to his clearer information, before he thy faithful friend to serve thee.
resolve anything therein, to command us to write “ E. H.”
these our letters unto you ; and, accordingly, we
do hereby will and require you to procure a perfect Here the records cease; but the after-history of list of the names, times, and causes of the committhis Quaker application is related by Whitehead in ment of all such persons called Quakers as are that curious picture of his own life and times remaining in any gaol or prison within this counprinted in 1725, under the name of The Christian try, and to return the same forth with to this board. Progress of George Whitehead. Whitehead was So, nothing doubting of your ready performance all prayer and application for the release of his of this his majesty's command, we bid you heartily brethren in the Lord, and had intimated his inten- farewell.” tion of writing to the king to his honest and loving Thomas Moore still continued his scruples befriend Thomas Moore,
fore the attorney-general, and Finch, then attor“Who was often willing,” he says, “ to move ney-general, told him, “Mr. Moore, if you 'll not the king in behalf of our suffering friends, the king accept of his majesty's pardon, I'll tell him you'll having some respect to hiin, for he had an interest not accept thereof." But Whitehead argued the with the king and some of his council more than signification of the word with his friend, and many others had, and I desired him to present my Moore's scruples were at length overcome. few lines, or letter, to the king, which he care- The rumor soon got wind that the king had exfully did, and a few days after both he and myself tended his Declaration of Indulgence, and conhad access into the king's presence, and renewed sented to the release of his old enemies the our request."
Quakers. Baptists, Presbyterians, Independents, The king listened to their application with and sectaries of all kinds," hearing of this, and attention and granted them liberty to be heard on seeing,” says Whitehead, “what way we had the next council-day.
made with the king for our friends' release, de** And then,'' he goes on to say, “ Thomas sired that their friends in prison might be disMoore, myself, and our friend Thomas Greene, charged with ours, and have their names in the attended at the council-chamber at Whitehall, and same instrument. Sectaries of all kinds went to were all admitted in before the king and a full the Quaker Whitehead, and earnestly requested council. When I had opened and more fully his advice and assistance. plead'd our suffering friends' case, the king gare Whereupon,” says Whitehead, “I advised this answer, I'll pardon them.' Whereupon them to petition the king for his warrant to have Tho'nas Moore pleaded the innocency of our them inserted in the same patent with the Quakers, friends—that they needed no pardon, being inno- which accordingly they did petition for and obtain; cent; the king's own warrant, in a few lines, will so that there a few names of other Dissenters who discharge them, “ For where,' said Thomas Moore, were prisoners in Bedfordshire, Kent, and Wiltthe word of a king is, there is power.'
shire (as I remember,) in the same catalogue and The king's answer was curious—“Oh, Mr. instrument with our friends, and released thereby, Moore, there are persons as innocent as a child which I was also very glad of; for our being of new born that are pardoned; you need not scruple different judgments and societies did not abate my
compassion or charity towards them who had been II. “How a learned man such as he was could my opposers in some cases. Blessed be the Lord sit and listen to an illiterate tinker?" is said to my God, who is the Father and Fountain of mer- have replied, “ May it please your majesty, could cies ; whose love to us in Christ Jesus should I possess that tinker's abilities for preaching I oblige us to be merciful and kind to one an- would most gladly relinquish all my learning." other."
Bunyan died on the 31st of August, 1688, at When the pardon or patent was ready for de- the house of his friend Mr. Strudwick, a grocer, livery, the friends got frightened at the amount of at the sign of the Star, on Snow Hill, and was fees properly payable upon it. The usual charge buried in that friend's vault in Bunhill Fields was a fee of above twenty pounds on each person, burial-ground. Modern curiosity has marked the and the Dissenting sects in England were then place of his interment with this brief inscription :both poor and needy. The patent enumerated the
MR. JOHN BUNYAN, names of above four hundred persons, and the fees at the customary rate had amounted to at least ten
THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS, thousand pounds. The friends of the Shoreham
OB. 31st AUGUST, 1688. fisherman applied once more to the king, and the
ÆT. 60. following order was issued forth with :
There is no entry of his burial in the register at (Locus Sigilli.)
Bunhill Fields, and there was no inscription upon “ His majesty is pleased to command that it be his grave when Curll published his Bunhill-Fields signified as his pleasure to the respective offices Inscriptions in 1717, or Strype his edition of Stow and sealers where the pardon to the Quakers is to in 1720. Many, it is said, have made it their pass, that the pardon, though comprehending desire to be interred as near as possible to the spot great numbers of persons, do yet pass as one par- where his remains are deposited. No kind of don, and pay but as one.
proper veneration should be bestowed in vain ; we
66 ARLINGTON. irust, therefore, that the place of Bunyan's inter“At the Court of Whitehall,
ment has been correctly marked. Sept. 13, 1672."
A thoughtful mind may pass an hour very prof. Whitehead quaintly observes on this, “Note, itably in the Campo Santo of the Dissenters at that though we had this warrant from the king, Bunhill Fields. There is no outward or visible yet we had trouble from some of the covetous sign of attractive interest about the place. Monuclerks, who did strive hard to exact upon us.
ments abound; but mere head-stones, with some The pardon was dated the same day, and some twenty or thirty altar-tombs, and no attempt at art of the Quakers carried the deed in procession round among the thousands that surround you. The the kingdom. “ The patent, says Whitehead, thoughtful visitor must bring his associations with “ was so big and cumbersome, in a leathern case,
him. Dull and uninviting though it looks, the and tin box, and great seal in it, that Edward place will well repay you. Great men are buried Mann was so cumbered with carrying it hanging here. Two of the best-known names in English by his side, that he was fain to tie it cross the literature are here interred, and the place has a horse's back behind him.” The original patent sanctity from its first use that will fill you with fills eleven skins of parchment, and is still pre
awe and gratitude to God. served among the records of the Society of
The site of this cemetery was part of the Friends. The curious reader will find it printed famous fen or moor, described by Fiizstephen as entire at the end of Whitehead's interesting pic-watering the walls of London on the north side. ture of his own life, with an alphabetical key to Moorfields and Fensbury Fields, now Finsbury, the names which it enumerates, some four hundred preserve a memory of its original condition. It in number, and all unknown to fame save one, and was first effectually drained in 1527, when Stow, that one the poor and contemptible servant of the historian of London, was two years old. The Jesus Christ, as he calls himself, John Bunyan.
Aags, sedges, and rushes, with which it was overFrom this it would appear that Bunyan owed grown, were removed, and part was turned into his release to the Quakers, and the Quakers their pasture, and part into a city laystall. Three pardon to the king's recollection of the master windmills were erected on the highest laystall. and mate who took him on board their boat at Stow mentions three, and Aggas, in his large Shoreham, and effected his escape to France after map, confirms the accuracy of the city historian the fatal fight at Worcester. The Penderells were in this trifling particular. Finsbury soon became among the first to congratulate the king on his famous for its windmills, and Shirley refers to return, but friend Carver kept away till he had them in his play of the Wedding, ihough the something to ask, not for himself, but for his allusion has been overlooked by Mr. Gifford and friends suffering in the Lord. Trusty Dick Pen- his fellow-assistant Mr Dyce, in their edition of derell had a pension for life, and trusty Dick this interesting old dramatisi.* Windmill street, Carver a compliance with his request, neither a
Finsbury, perpetuates a memory of these subursınall nor personal one, but large and of state im- ban windmills. portance. He did what he did to relieve a man
The laystalls were removed in the third year of (that is, the king) in distress, and now he desired King James, during the mayorally of Sir Leonard nothing of him (the king) but that he would set Halliday, and the fields laid out " into new and friends at liberty who were great sufferers."
pleasant walks.” The citizens affected to laugh Bunyan might have spent the remainder of his at the mayor for his pains, and called it in derision life in prison but for the timely intercession of the a Holiday work; but when they saw what was Shoreham fisherman and his old enemies the Qua- done they ceased to laugh. The ground was kers. The fine old Baptist dreamer lived sixteen then one fine level, and musters took place here. years after bis release. Little, however, has been
Is this Moorfields to muster in?" says a characrecorded of him in this time. Owen, we are told, *Shirley, vol. i., p. 421. There are two pages with this admired his preaching, and when asked by Charles number.
ter in Shakspeare's Henry VIII.; and Davenant | London without the walls of their burning city describes it, in 1634, as covered by laundresses into the fields of Finsbury and Hoxton. Here and bleachers with acres of old linen. As the they erected sheds and shops, living in tents like ground improved, it became a fashionable city gipsies, till such time as they could return to their promenade upon a Sunday; and Bassompierre, old localities, though not to iheir old habitations. who was ambassador here in 1626, tells us that When the plague was over, the great pit in he “ went to walk in the Morffield.” Shadwell Finsbury was enclosed with a brick wall, “at the commemorates the cudgel-players, and Wycherley sole charges of the City of London.”
The conthe organ and tongs at the Gun in Moorfields. venience of the site, the size, and, if the expression The Artillery Company removed from Bishopgate may be allowed, the consecrated nature of the to Moorfields in the year 1622. Strype describes ground, recommended it soon after to the notice of the relative position of the new artillery ground, the great dissenting sects in London, who consci“ being the third great field,” he says, “ from entiously scrupled to the burial-service of the Book Moorgate, next the six windmills.”
of Common Prayer. What stipulation was made There were three great fields appertaining to with the city is unknown, but here all the interthe manor of Finsbury Farm when the survey of ments of the dissenters took place. The city the 30th of December, 1567, was taken.* These subsequently leased it to a person of the name of three fields were named Bonhill Field, Mallow Tindal, the same lessee who refused to furnish Field, and the High Field, or Meadow Ground, Maitland with a return of the number of burials in “ where the three windmills stand, commonly any one year.
" This obstinate refusal," says called Finsbury Field.” “ Bonhill Field con- Maitland, "put me upon inquiring of John Smith, taineth,” says the Survey, "twenty-three acres, the grave-digger, who assured me that, though he one rod, and six poles ; butting upon Chiswell kept no register, yet, in the course of his long serstreet on the south, and on the north upon the vices, he had made such observations, that he was highway that leadeth from Wenlock's Barn to the sure they buried annually between seven and well called Dame Agnes the Cleere.” Wenlock's eight hundred.' Barn no longer exists; and the well, called St. It is to be regretted that no dissenter has thought Agnes le Clair (corruptly called Anniseed Cleer) it worth his while to compose a proper account of was, in 1761, if not before, converted into a cold this Campo Santo of his seci, a work much bath. The efficacy of this spring is referred to wanted and of some research. Very little or no by one of Ben Jonson's characters in his play of care seems to be taken of the many memorials of Bartholomew Fair.
the dead; the register is very imperfect, and the In Queen Elizabeth's time the fields about Fins inscriptions are fast wearing away.
No Old Morbury were the usual resort of the plainer_citi- tality repairs a fading letter with religious care,
Master Stephen, a country gull, in Every and no printed book preserves anything like a mere Man in his Humor, is indignant at the idea of common transcriber's account of what is daily disbeing suspected, though dwelling at Hoxton, of appearing. This should not be. A careful reskeeping company with the archers of Finsbury, toration of the better-class inscriptions might be or the citizens that come a-ducking to Islington done at a comparatively trifling cost. The sale of ponds. The archers of Finsbury found full em- a sixpenny guide-book would, when the purport ployment for the bowyers and bowstring-makers, of its publication was fully known, more than rewho dwelt in Grub street, immediately adjoining ; pay, or we are much mistaken, the total of a but, when archery gave way to bowling-greens mason's bill for this common piece of commemoraand dicing-houses, Grub street was tenanted by tive gratitude. But it must be set about soon, or the hack authors of the booksellers in Little it will be attempted when it is too late. We call Britain, and the ballad-makers that befringed the upon the Court of Common Council, the nominal rails of Bedlam and Moorfields. Grub street has keepers of this interesting cemetery, to stir at since undergone another change; authors no once in the matter; and we call upon the whole longer inhabit this notorious locality, and Grub body of dissenters, throughout the length and street is now known as Milion street, from the breadth of Great Britain, to put at once this nearness of its locality to the last garden residence Westminster Abbey of their sects in order. of the great epic poet of our nation.
We have been at some pains in compiling what When the great plague of 1665 broke out, of must necessarily be a very imperfect account of which De Foe has left so terrible a description, the eminent dead who are buried in Bunhill Fields. the field called Bonhill Field was made use of as But the task has been a pleasing one. We have a common place of interment for the victims of succeeded in identifying, to ourselves at least, a that dreadful scourge.
dull, damp, and gloomy-looking square of ground, “I have heard,” says De Foe, “ that in a great with many attractive spots, over which we may pit in Finsbury, in the parish of Cripplegate, it speculate when the humor is upon us. The little lying open then to the fields, for it was not then reveries into which men occasionally run when walled about, many, who were infected and near the workday business of the world is past, make their end, and delirious, also, ran, wrapped in many of the duller hours of life innocently pleasblankets or rugs, and threw themselves in, and ing. The churchyard of Stoke in Buckinghamexpired there, before any earth could be thrown shire, which suggested to Gray his inimitable upon them. When they come to bury others, Elegy, is, by this one circumstance alone, an inand found them there, they were quite dead, teresting spot; but when we know that the poet though not cold.”
of the Elegy is buried in the same churchyard, This is a sad picture of the pleasant walks of there is a further link of interest to enchain the Moorfields in the year 1665. Nor is the picture contemplative mind to the spot a little longer. of the following year much brighter, for the The first person of any eminence buried in Bundreadful fire of 1666 drove the inhabitants of hill Fields, of whom our researches will enable us
* Strype, b. iv.,
* Maitland, ed. 1739, p. 537.
to give any account, was Dr. Thomas Goodwin, “ Obscure the place and uninscribed the stone,” the Independent preacher, who attended Oliver if stone there ever was to distinguish the grave of Cromwell on his death-bed. Cromwell had then one who deserves a monument from the sect he his moments of misgiving, and he asked of Good-called into permanent existence. win, who was standing by, if the doctrine were
The mild and peaceable George Fox was foltrue that the elect could never finally fall
. “ Noth-lowed to his grave in Bunhill Fields by Lieutenanting could be more certain,” was Goodwin's an- General Fleetwood, the Lord-Deputy Fleetwood
" Then am I safe,” said Cromwell, “ for of the Civil Wars, Oliver Cromwell's son-in-law, I am sure that once I was in a state of grace!" and the husband of the widow of the gloomy Ireton. Cromwell foresaw that his hour was come, but Fleetwood had no great brilliancy of parts, but Goodwin pretended not to see it, and is said to he was a gallant soldier, though destitute of that have assured him that he was not then to die. fine soldierly quality, decision. When Monk was But die he did, within a very few minutes after. debating what he should do, whether he should reYet Goodwin maintained the reality of the assur- store the king, or continue the command of the naance he had received by prayer, and, at a fast at tion in a council of officers, Fleetwood was advised Whitehall, a week after Cromwell's death, was by Whitelock to be beforehand with Monk, and ofheard to say, in an address to God,“ Thou hast fer his sword and services to the king. The advice deceived us, and we were deceived.” This Bur- was good, and Fleetwood seemed inclined to net had from Tillotson, who was present and adopt it. Such, however, was his indecision, heard it. Dr. Thomas Goodwin died on the 23d that meeting with Vane and Desborough, just as of February, 1679, at the great age of eighty. Whitelock was going away, he was induced to tie His epitaph, preserved in Strype,
was written, says his fortunes to the sword of Lambert. The upshot Antony Wood, by Mr. Thomas Gilbert, of Oxford, of this irresolution is well known. Monk was " the common epitaph-maker for dissenters, being made Duke of Albemarle by a grateful monarch one himself.”
Lambert banished for life to the island of GuernThe second person of eminence interred in Bun
and Fleetwood allowed to end his days in hill Fields, of whom we find a note, was the singing psalms about Hoxton and Stoke-Newing. learned Dr. John Owen, dean of Christchurch,
A stone in the burying-ground of Bunhill and vice-chancellor of Oxford when Cromwell was Fields recorded the death of Charles Fleetwood, chancellor of that university. He was much in Esq., at the age of seventy-four, on the 4th of favor with his party, and preached the first sermon October, 1692. It was there when Strype drew before the Parliament after the execution of Charles up his additions to Stow, but the curious inquirer 1. Cromwell carried him to Ireland and to Scot: will now search in vain for any memorial of the
and Clarendon, at the restoration, offered kind. him speedy preferment in the church. This he
Another memorial existing in Bunhill Fields, did not accept, but died, like Calamy and Baxter, and preserved by Strype, was a stone to the mema steady and unflinching nonconformist
. He was ory of “Mr. Roger Morris, M. A., and chaplain a man of more learning and politeness than any of to the late Hon. Denzil Lord Hollis." Morris the Independents, and met with the esteem, as he died at the age of seventy-three, on the 17th Jandeserved, of all parties. Dr. Owen died on the
“ This gentleman,” says Strype, 24th of August, 1683, at the age of sixty-seven, and his name deserves remembrance for this one and was buried at Bunhill Fields, in a new vault act alone, “ was a very diligent collector of eccletowards the east end of the ground, over which siastical MSS. relating to the later history of the was erected an altar tomb of freestone, with a English church, whereof he left vast heaps behind Latin inscription from the pen of a ready writer, him, and who favored me with his correspondence." the facile Mr. Gilbert.
Denzil, Lord Hollis, was one of the five members The two sturdy Independents, Goodwin and impeached by King Charles I. He was a steady Owen, were followed to the grave, in 1688, by the Presbyterian, and has left his Memoirs behind him Baptist Bunyan,
full of hatred and bitterness to Cromwell, whose
ends he foresaw, but could neither favor nor re“ The Pilgrim's Progress now is finished, tard. And Death has laid him in his earthly bed.” There is a pleasure in turning from the graves
of men who filled important stations and effected Fox followed Bunyan. George Fox, the founder very little good in their generations, to the graves of the sect of Quakers, is the next eminent indi- of men who have been the humble instruments of vidual buried in Bunhill Fields. His Journal is a important and enduring benefactions to society at scarce, but very entertaining book, and one, there- large. We must own to a kind of secret pleasure fore, that should not continue scarce. He was which we felt in standing by the side of the tomb born, in 1624, at Crayton, in Leicestershire, and of Dr. Daniel Williams. This Dr. Williams, who apprenticed to a man that was a shoemaker by died in 1716, was the founder of the library in Red trade, and that dealt in wool, and used grazing, Cross street, which bears his name.
The library and sold cattle.” This is his own description of which Archbishop Tenison gave to the parish of his master's pursuits, and is, as it appears to us, St. Martin's in the Fields was not half so large, or an exact description of the trade of Shakspeare's for its size, half so important. When Dissenters, father, who is described as a glover by some of by principles of their own adoption, were excluded his biographers, and as a considerable dealer in from the advantages of church-registration of bapwool by others. Fox's master united many call- tism for their children, there was a register kept ings in an age when a subdivision of labor was not in Dr. Williams' library, wherein parents might so much practised or so well understood as now. enter the births of their children, with all the legal Is it unfair to suppose that Shakspeare's father advantages of a Church of England register. Dr. may have done the same? Fox died in 1690, in Dibdin is silent on the subject of Williams' claim White Hart Court, Bishopgale Street. There is to be considered a bibliomaniac; but surely he had no memorial to his meinory,
a greater right than very many he has mentioned