action and strong will rose to the surface, without reference to the
honesty or morality of their characters. ‘Les troubles civils,’ says one
of the historians of the Fronde, ‘sont le règne des oiseaux de proie.’
The Regent and her Minister well knew how much they had to fear
throughout the wars of the Fronde, throughout the ups and downs of
popularity and hatred from such men as Gondi, who became in time both
Archbishop of Paris and Cardinal, and maintained for the most part his
political ascendency until the conclusion of the civil war in 1652, when
the Court returned to Paris. He was offered to go to Rome as Ambassador,
but hesitated and demurred and procrastinated, till Anne of Austria’s
old hatred broke out afresh, and he was arrested and conveyed, without
any resistance on the part of his good Parisians, to the Château de
Vincennes. Here he was treated with much severity, and could only gain
the favour of being transported to the ancient Castle of Nantes at the
price of some concessions in ecclesiastical matters. He contrived to
escape, through an ingenious contrivance, and to evade the vigilance of
the guards during one of his daily promenades on the ramparts, though he
ran great risks while dangling to a rope, which had been thrown over the
wall for his descent. Two young pages saw him, and cried loudly to the
soldiers above, but as the Cardinal’s good star would have it, there was
a great tumult going on below on the banks of the river. A bather was
drowning, and people were shouting and calling for help in all
directions, so that the boys’ feeble voices were unheard, or confounded
with the general uproar. The Cardinal had friends awaiting his descent
with horses, and they set forth at a furious pace, intending to make
their way to Paris. But the Cardinal’s horse was scared by the report of
a pistol which De Retz himself had fired on a supposed pursuer, and the
rider fell to the ground, dislocated his shoulder, and had to ride for
many leagues in tortures of pain. After passing several nights in misery
and apprehension, hiding in barns and outhouses, under piles of hay,
half suffocated, the fugitive contrived to reach the Spanish frontier,
whence after a short sojourn he repaired to Rome. He had a very good
reception, despite the rancour of the French Cardinals, and made himself
conspicuous at the Conclave by his eloquence, which was instrumental in
securing the election of Alexander VII. This smoothed the way for his
return to France, where the King received him well; but the firm spirit
of De Retz was not broken, and he withstood to the uttermost the
endeavours, both of Louis and Mazarin, to make him resign his
Archbishopric. However, he was at length persuaded to exchange it for
the Abbey of St. Denis. The rest of his life, we are told by some of his
biographers, was passed in retirement, piety, and charitable deeds. By
some we are also told that his humility was so great that he offered to
resign the Scarlet Hat, of which he was unworthy; but other writers are
sceptical enough to doubt his good faith in this transaction, and to
whisper that while he tendered his resignation to the King, he sent
secret petitions to the Pope to refuse this offer. One thing is certain:
the Cardinal became economical, and paid to the uttermost farthing the
enormous debts which he had contracted. In his latter days he found
amusement in the compilation of his own memoirs, which are characterised
by extreme candour; and he found consolation in the society and
friendship of Madame de Sévigné. In her charming Letters this admirable
writer praises the tired man of the world for his charming conversation,
his elevation of character, and his mild and peaceable disposition.
Surely it must be acknowledged that our Frondeur had reformed! She
speaks of his constant visits. ‘Nous tâchons,’ she says, ‘d’amuser notre
bon Cardinal; Corneille lui a lu une pièce qui sera jouée dans quelque
temps, et qui fait souvenir des anciennes. Molière lui lira, samedi
Trissotin, qui est une fort plaisante chose. Despréaux lui donnera son
lutrin, et sa poétique. Voilà tout ce qu’on peut faire pour son
service.’ He died in Paris at the Hôtel Lesdiguierés in 1679. Madame de
Sévigné, writing on the subject to her daughter, says, ‘Cette mort est
encore plus funeste, que tu ne saurais le penser.’ ‘These ambiguous
words,’ observes a French writer, ‘were considered very mysterious at
the time, but the easy solution appears to be that the Cardinal had,
unknown to Madame de Grignan herself, stated or hinted at the fact that
he intended to make that lady his heir, a circumstance of which her
mother was cognisant.’
De Retz at one time not only aimed at superseding his enemy, Cardinal de
Mazarin, in his post at the Councils, but also in the affections of the
Queen-Regent, a project in which he was utterly foiled. Voltaire,
speaking of his Autobiography, says it is written with an air of
grandeur, an impetuosity, and an inequality of genius, which form a
perfect portrait of the man; it might be added,—with an audacious
candour, from which many writers of their own memoirs would have shrunk.
------------------
_No. 4._
THOMAS HOBBES.
_Black gown. Grizzly hair._
BORN 1588, DIED 1679.
BORN at Westport, an outlying parish of Malmesbury, of which his father
was the Vicar,—‘a man who cared not for learning, having never, as
Aubrey tells us, ‘tasted the sweetness of it.’ Thomas Hobbes’s advent
into the world was premature, in consequence of his mother’s terror,
caused by the rumours of the impending invasion of the Spanish Armada.
One of his biographers truly remarks, ‘The philosopher was not in such a
hurry to leave as to enter the world, since he lived to attain his
ninety-second year.’ In a Latin poem, written when he was past eighty,
he terms himself, ‘Fear’s twin,’ alluding to his mother’s fright, and
says, ‘That is the reason, methinks, why I so detest my country’s foes,
being a lover of the Muses, and of peace, and pleasant friends.’
He began authorship while still a schoolboy at Malmesbury, by
translating the _Medea_ of Euripides into Latin verse.
He is described as a playful boy enough, but with a spice of
contemplative melancholy, ‘who would get himself into a corner, and
learn his lessons presently.’ His chief amusements consisted in
‘catching jackdaws with cunningly-devised traps, and strolling into
booksellers’ and stationers’ shops, in order to gape at maps or charts.’
A generous uncle sent him to Oxford, where he was regular in his studies
and in his habits, at a time when, as he tells us in the _Leviathan_,
drinking, smoking, and gambling were the order of the day at Oxford.
The Principal of his College, Magdalen Hall, recommended the young
student to the notice of Lord Cavendish of Hardwicke (afterwards the
first Earl of Devonshire), who appointed him tutor to his eldest son;
and thus began a friendship with that noble family which endured for
upwards of seventy years, even to the end of Hobbes’s long life. Tutor
and pupil were of the same age, nineteen years, and together they made
the grand tour of France, Germany, and Italy, reaping great advantages
from the opportunities thus afforded them. As to Hobbes, he cultivated
the society and conversation of all the men of eminence in the countries
through which they passed, ‘at a time,’ says a recent writer, ‘when the
spirit of inquiry was rife in Western Europe.’ He mastered modern
languages, and laid the foundation of friendships which stood him in
good stead in after life. On his return he devoted himself more than
ever to the study of the Classics, translating and commenting on the
Greek and Latin poets of antiquity, so that his works began to attract
considerable attention. He resided with the Cavendish family, both in
the country and in London, and greatly utilised the resources of the
library at Chatsworth; while in London he frequented the society of such
men as Lord Bacon, Ben Jonson, Lord Falkland, Herbert of Cherbury, and
others.
King James I., who was a match-maker, brought about a marriage between
young Lord Cavendish (Hobbes’s pupil) and the only daughter of his
favourite, Lord Bruce of Kinloss, in Scotland. The King gave her a good
portion, and induced Lord Devonshire to make a handsome settlement on
her; but the excellent qualities of this remarkable woman would have
made Christian Bruce a desirable alliance for any family in England,
even had she not been so well endowed. She was a competent and superior
lady, as her after life proved. But heavy clouds were gathering over the
house of Cavendish. In 1626 died William, first Earl of Devonshire, son
of the celebrated Bess of Hardwicke, and in 1628 his son, the second
Earl. Hobbes mourned them both sincerely, but especially the last
mentioned, his dear lord, friend, and pupil; in a letter to whose son
and successor, after speaking in the highest terms of the deceased, and
enumerating his many virtues and endowments, he goes on to say, ‘What he
took in by study, he by judgment digested, and turned into wisdom and
ability, wherewith to benefit his country.’
This was in every respect a severe loss to Hobbes. The establishment at
Chatsworth was broken up, and the widowed Countess was left in great
pecuniary difficulties. Her son (who was of tender age) had his estates
charged with thirty lawsuits, ‘which, by the cunning of her adversaries,
were made as perplexed as possible; yet she so managed, with diligence
and resolution, as to go through them all with satisfaction.’
One day King Charles said jestingly to her, ‘Madam, you have all my
judges at your disposal.’
In 1628, Hobbes published his translation of Thucydides, which attracted
great attention, and brought down on the author many severe attacks. In
an opening dissertation on the life and works of the Greek historian,
Hobbes endeavoured, by the example of the Athenian, to warn his
countrymen against the evils of democracy, at a moment when political
strife was raging and the Monarchy in danger. For Hobbes was a zealous
Royalist, and believed that the cause of the King was in essentials the
cause of law and order. Thrown for a while on his own resources, he
accepted the post of travelling tutor to the son of a country gentleman,
with whom he went on the Continent, residing chiefly at Paris, where he
took up mathematics as a new study. It was not long, however, before the
widowed Countess of Devonshire recalled the friend of her father-in-law,
the tutor of her husband, to occupy the same position in the family, and
superintend the education of her sons, the young Earl and her beloved
Charles, the gallant soldier who closed his short and noble career by
dying for his King on the field of Gainsborough.
In 1634 old memories were recalled and old habits resumed by Hobbes
taking his youthful charge over very much the same ground as he had
travelled with his first pupil some years before, ‘making the longest
stay in Paris for all the politer parts of breeding,’ having during his
sojourn in Italy inspired the admiration and gained the friendship of
Cosimo de Medici, Grand Duke of Tuscany, and paid a visit at Pisa to the
illustrious Galileo,—‘for I also,’ says Hobbes of himself, ‘am now
numbered among the philosophers.’
In Paris, where Richelieu was in the zenith of his power, and had just
founded the Academy, Hobbes fraternised, as was his wont, with all the
learned men, and was on the most intimate terms with every one in any
way remarkable for culture, whether in literature, science, or
philosophy. In 1637 Lord Devonshire with his governor went back to
England, where he found that his mother had taken advantage of his
absence to restore order into his estates, which she now gave up to him,
free and unencumbered of debt, and his beautiful homes well furnished to
receive him.
England was in a most perturbed state on the travellers’ return.
Hampden’s trial, the insurrection of the Scots, the violence of
Parliament, all presaged the impending downfall of the Monarchy.
Hobbes’s natural bias, as we have already said in a former page, was in
favour of the Royal cause, a sentiment which was naturally fostered by
the Cavendishes, who were one and all zealous Royalists; their hearts,
lives, and fortunes, were ever at the service of the Throne. And so it
came to pass that our philosopher raised his voice and wielded his pen
in support of the King, until, as the saying goes, the country was too
hot to hold him, and he fled. He thus speaks of his own reasons for
taking this step:—
‘On the meeting of the second Parliament, when they proceeded fiercely
against those who had written or preached in defence of regal power, Mr.
Hobbes, doubting how they would use him, went over into France, the
first of all that fled, and there continued eleven years.’ Here he made
a short friendship and quicker quarrel with the celebrated Des Cartes;
here, when once brought to the brink of the grave, whatever his
religious opinions were, he resisted the endeavours of an Italian friend
to gain him over to the Roman Catholic faith; here, his health
re-established, he published manifold works,—philosophical, theological,
and polemical,—which attracted great attention, and his fame spread so
far and wide that it was said people came from great distances even to
gaze on the portrait of Mr. Thomas Hobbes.
Public favour was very much divided, and some of those who could not
deny his eloquence and brilliancy of style inveighed against the
heterodoxy of his tenets. While in Paris, he gave instructions in
different branches of learning, especially mathematics, to the Prince of
Wales, afterwards Charles II., who was then in exile; and his
intercourse with the Prince, and the intimacy which he formed with many
of the English Royalists then residing in Paris, helped to foster
Hobbes’s hatred of the popular party in England.
John Evelyn, in his Diary, says, ‘I went to see Mr. Hobbes, the great
philosopher of Malmesbury, at Paris, with whom I had been much
acquainted. From his window we saw the whole procession and glorious
cavalcade of the young French monarch, Lewis XIV., passing to
Parliament, when first he took the kingly government upon him, he being
fourteen years of age, and out of the Queen’s pupilage. The King’s
aydes, the Queen-Mother, and the King’s light horse all in rich habits,
with trumpets, in blue velvet and gold; the Swiss in black velvet
toques, headed by two gallant cavaliers in habits of scarlet satin,
after their country fashion, which is very fantastick.
The Kinge himself looked like a young Apollo. He was mounted on an
Isabella barb, with a houssing of crosses of the Order of the Holy
Ghost, and _semée fleurs-de-lys_, stiffly covered with rich embroidery.
He went almost the whole way with his hat in his hand, saluting the
ladys and acclamators, who had filled the windows with their beauty, and
the aire with “Vive le Roy!”’
In 1651 Hobbes wrote the book so indissolubly connected with his name,
_Leviathan_. When this work was first circulated in Paris, he found
himself the object of aversion to every class. To readers of every way
of thinking, there were passages at which to cavil and take objection.
Indeed, Hobbes was warned that from the priesthood his life was in
danger; and he once more sought safety in flight. He returned to
England, where he published the obnoxious volume, and took up his abode
in London for some time, in Fetter Lane, made his submission to the
Council of State, and busied himself with literary labours, English and
Latin. The winter of 1659 he spent with his friends at Chatsworth, and
in 1660 came up to London with them to Little Salisbury House. One day,
soon after the Restoration, the King was passing through the Strand,
when he perceived his old master standing at the gate of Lord
Devonshire’s house. The Royal coach was stopped, Charles doffed his hat
most graciously, and inquired after Mr. Hobbes’s health, who was
summoned to the Palace before a week was over, and found himself sitting
for his portrait by Royal command. We are told that the king of limners,
Mr. Cooper, was much delighted with Mr. Hobbes’s pleasant conversation,
and that his Majesty delighted in his wit and repartees. The Merry
Monarch’s courtiers would ‘bayte’ Mr. Hobbes, so much so that when he
appeared the King would often cry, ‘Here comes the bear to be bayted.’
But the philosopher knew how to take his own part, and his answers were
always full of wit and drollery, but usually evasive, from fear of
giving offence. The King granted him an annual pension of £100 a year,
but refused his petition of a grant of land to found a free school at
Malmesbury.
He continued his controversial writings, which brought down upon him
attacks from all quarters. The publication of his works was prohibited
in England, which determined him to bring out a complete edition of them
at Amsterdam. The cry against him continued, and an undergraduate at
Cambridge venturing to support some of his most daring theories, was
summarily expelled the University, while Adam Hood, who had affixed a
panegyric on the philosopher to the commencement of the Antiquities of
Oxford, was compelled to suppress half his compliments. Hobbes retired
into the country, translated Homer into English, wrote the
_Philosophical Decameron_, and the _Civil Wars in England_, which he
dedicated to the King, with a petition to be allowed to publish it.
Charles was much displeased with the book, and gave him a flat denial.
During the panic which was caused by the plague and fire of London, a
Bill was brought into Parliament for the suppression of all atheistical
writings, and a committee formed to inquire into any work suspected of
promulgating such doctrines. Public attention was directed towards
_Leviathan_, and many people believed that the greater number of the
Bishops would willingly have roasted the old philosopher alive; at all
events, Hobbes was much alarmed, being in terror of the whole Bench,
more especially of the Bishop of Ely, whom he had offended. He
accordingly burned a great portion of his papers, and took his departure
for Chatsworth.
It was well for Hobbes, that, disappointed and thwarted in many ways, he
had so peaceful and beautiful a haven wherein to anchor. Lord Devonshire
allowed his old tutor to live under his roof in ease and plenty,
claiming no service of any kind in return for so much hospitality.
Neither the Earl nor his wife subscribed in any way to Hobbes’s
opinions, but often expressed their abhorrence of his principles, both
in politics and religion, sometimes avoiding mention of his name, or
excusing him in some measure by saying he was a humorist, and there was
no accounting for him.
But they were uniformly kind to the old man, in spite of it all. Hobbes
divided his time and thoughts between attention to his health and to his
studies. The morning he dedicated to the first consideration—climbing
the nearest hill as soon as he got up; or, if the weather were bad,
taking hard exercise in the house as soon as he had finished his
breakfast,—after which meal he would make a circuit of the apartments,
and visit my lord, my lady, the children, and any distinguished
strangers that might be there, conversing for a short time with all of
them.
Towards the end of his life he read few books, preferring, he said, ‘to
digest what he had already fed upon;’ ‘besides,’ he remarked, laughing,
‘if I were to read as much as most men do, I should be as ignorant as
they.’ In company he was free in discourse, but could not brook
contradiction, then he was short and peevish; indeed it was usual, on
admitting strangers, to warn them not to vex the old man by differing
from him in argument. Hobbes, by his own testimony, was of a timid
nature. Kennet, the biographer of the Cavendishes, from whose amusing
volume we have drawn largely, says, ‘It is not trampling on the ashes of
the late Mr. Hobbes to say he was a coward. He was constantly under
apprehension of messengers to arrest him, and that they would enter
Chatsworth or Hardwicke by force, and compel Lord Devonshire to give him
up.’
Under the pressure of these fears he wrote an Apology for himself and
his writings, in which he affirmed that the doctrines at which exception
had been taken were not so much his opinions as his suppositions, a
delicate distinction enough. In his latter days Hobbes made an open
profession of religion, and frequented service in the chapel, often
partaking of the Holy Communion. If any one in conversation questioned
his belief, he would invariably allude to these practices, and refer the
speaker to the chaplain, who would bear testimony to his orthodoxy. Some
people thought this chapel-going was the result of his wish to conform
to the rules of the household, as he never went to a parish church, and
always turned his back on the sermon, ‘for,’ said he, ‘they can teach me
nothing that I do not know.’ He had a perfect terror of being left to
himself in an empty house, and would always accompany the family from
Chatsworth to Hardwicke and back, however weak and ill he might be. On
the last occasion he journeyed to Hardwicke on a feather bed in a coach,
and the exertion at so advanced an age hastened his death. He could not
endure the thought of dying, and had a new coat made when on his
deathbed, which, he hoped, would last him three years, and then he would
have another. He questioned the physician at last whether his disease
were curable, and on being told he might hope for alleviation, but no
cure—a fact which his science and philosophy might surely have told him
at ninety-two years of age—he said, ‘Then I hope I shall find a hole to
creep out of the world.’
They were his last words, and were somewhat ambiguous, as ‘Hardwicke
Hall, more glass than wall,’ could not well be described as a ‘hole,’
with its lordly gallery, its noble staircase, and its historical
memories of Mary Queen of Scots, and Arabella Stuart. Many of Hobbes’s
most remarkable writings are preserved there in manuscript.
Our philosopher upheld the expediency of making use of an evil
instrument in an emergency, and said, ‘If I had fallen into a well, and
the devil let down his leg, I would willingly lay hold of his cloven
foot to haul myself up by.’ He amused himself by making his friends
write provisional epitaphs for him, only one of which satisfied
him,—‘This is the true philosopher’s stone.’ Hobbes continued studying
and translating to the end of his life; but Pope considered his
rendering of the _Iliad_ and _Odyssey_ ‘too mean for criticism.’
Although not very strong in youth, Hobbes enjoyed excellent health on
gaining middle age. He was six feet high, of a fresh and ruddy
complexion, yellowish moustache, which turned up naturally after the
Cavalier fashion; with a tip, or ‘King Charles,’ under his lip, being
otherwise close shaven. He did not affect to look severe, considering
‘heaviness of countenance no sign of God’s favour, and a cheerful,
charitable, upright behaviour a better sign of religion than the zealous
maintaining of controverted opinions.’ He had always a book of ‘Prick
Songs’ lying on the table, and at night, when every one in the house was
asleep, he would sing aloud,—not because he had a good voice, but for
the benefit of his lungs. Thomas Hobbes appears to have been too much of
a philosopher to have fallen at any time under the spell of beauty; at
least we can find no mention in his _Memoirs_ of even a passing
subjugation to female charms. Lord Clarendon speaks of him as ‘one of
the most ancient acquaintance I have in the world, whom I have ever
esteemed, not only for his eminent parts of learning, but as a man of
probity, and one whose life has been free from scandal.’
------------------
_No. 5._
ABRAHAM COWLEY.
_Dark dress, long flowing hair._
BORN 1618, DIED 1667.
BY MRS. BEALE.
THE posthumous son of a small London tradesman, his mother, although in
straitened circumstances, resolved to give her boy the best education in
her power; and she was rewarded by living to see him rise to eminence
and distinction. Little Abraham one day, sitting in the window seat in
his mother’s home, found a volume of Spenser’s _Faëry Queen_ lying
there. He opened the book, and was soon absorbed in the contents,
‘sucking the sweet honey of those inspired lines.’ He read, and re-read,
and, as Dr. Johnson tersely expresses it, became ‘irrecoverably a poet.’