Eliot, " I have brought you this worthy knight, whom I borrowed of you some few months ago, and now do repay him again."!

"a

A "convenient lodging" had not been prepared. The only accommodation that could be had was darke and smoaky room." But he was not denied the use of books, and writing materials were, upon his earnest solicitation, granted to him. Some of the letters written at this period from his dungeon have fortunately been preserved. A great philosophical work, on which he employed himself, has also come down to us.3 These present sir John Eliot, in this last scene of all, not simply unshrinking in fortitude, true to himself, magnanimous, and patient. All this he was ;-but something yet greater than this. It would seem certain that, soon after his imprisonment, a secret feeling possessed him that his active life had closed. He did not acknowledge it to himself distinctly, but it is not the less apparent. Daily, under his confinement, his body was sinking. Daily, as his body sank, his soul asserted independent objects and uses. "Not alone," says the poet, whose genius has just risen amongst us 4

"Not alone when life flows still do truth

And power emerge, but also when strange chance
Affects its current; in unused conjuncture
Where sickness breaks the body - hunger, watching,
Excess, or languor - oftenest death's approach -
Peril, deep joy, or woe."

and now, as death approached Eliot - for, from the first month of his present imprisonment, it approached with the steadiest and surest step a new world revealed itself, to be rescued and regenerated by his virtue; a new tyranny to conquer, which needed not the physical aid that had deserted him in his struggle with the old; a new government to establish which was within the control and accomplishment of all; - "the monarchy of

:

1 Mead to Stuteville, March 13. 1629-30.

2 Among the Eliot family papers.

man." He resolved to occupy the hours of his imprisonment with a work that should have for its object the establishment of the independence of man's mind; of its power over the passions and weaknesses of humanity, of its means of wresting these to the purposes of its own government; - the illustration of the greatest good that could be achieved on earth, man's monarchy over himself, a perfect and steady self-control. Sucha plan, while it embraced the lofty thoughts that now sought freedom from his over-informed and sinking body, would enable him also to vindicate the course he had pursued in his day of strength and vigour; and, in leaving to his countrymen, finally, an unyielded purpose, an unquailing endurance, a still unmitigated hatred of oppression, would teach them, at the same time, that these great qualities had victories of their own to achieve, in which no worldly power could foil them; and that, supposing the public struggles of the time attended with disastrous issue, it was not for man, with his inherent independence, to admit the possibility of despair. If greater virtue, and beauty, and general perfectness of character, have at any time, in any age or country, been illustrated, I have yet to learn when, and by whom.

These thoughts and purposes of Eliot soon broke upon his friends. Hampden was watching his imprisonment with the most anxious solicitude. It is one proof of the virtuous character of this great man having already dawned, that Eliot had entrusted to him the care of his two sons. Soon after the commencement of his imprisonment, Hampden, who discharged this duty with affectionate zeal, received from Eliot a long letter of advice and counsel for them, which sufficiently indicated the studies that already engaged himself. The opening of it shows the last lingering of the struggle which was soon to settle to a perfect composure.1 " Sonns," he begins, "if my desires had been valuable for one hour, I had long since written to you - which, in little, does deliver a large character of my fortune, that in nothing has allowed me to be master of myself. I have formerly been prevented by employment, which was so tyrannical on my time, as all minutes were anticipated; now my leisure contradicts me, and is soe violent on the contrary, soe great an enemy to all action, as it makes itself unuseful;-both leisure and business have opposed me either in time or libertie, that I have had no means of expression but my praiers, in which I have never failed to make God the witness of my love, whose blessings I doubt not will deduce it in some evidence to you. And now having gotten a little opportunity (though by stealth), I cannot but give it some testimony from myself, and let you see my dearest expectation in your good." He goes on to say with what delight he will always hear "of the progress of your learning, of your aptness and diligence in that, of your careful attendance in all exercises of religion, and the instruction and improvements of your minds, which are foundations of a future building." Some of the philosophy of his own life he then presents to them. "It is a fine history, well studied, the observation of ourselves." He describes to them the many evils he has endured, the continuity of his sufferings, "of which there is yet no end. Should those evills," he continues, "be complained? Should I make lamentation of these crosses? Should I conceave the worse of my condition in the study of myself that my adversities oppose me? Noe! I may not - (and yet I will not be so stoical as not to think them evils, I will not do that prejudice to virtue by detraction of her adversaries). They are evills, for I doe confess them, but of that nature and soe followed, soe neighbouring upon good, as they are noe cause of sorrow, but of joy; seeing whose enemies they make us, enemies of fortune, enemies of the world, enemies of their children; and knowing for whom we suffer, -for him that is their enemy, for him that can command them whose agents only and instruments they

are to work his trials on us, which may render us more perfect and acceptable to himself. Should these enforce a sorrow, which are the true touches of his favour, and not affect us rather with the higher apprehension of our happiness? Amongst my many obligations to my Creator, which prove the infinity of his mercies that like a full stream have been always flowing on me, there is none concerning this life, wherein I have found more pleasure or advantage, than in these trialls and afflictions (and I may not limitt it soe narrowly within the confines of this life which I hope shall extend much further), -the operations they have had, the new effects they worke, the discoveries they make upon ourselves, upon others, upon all." Nobly and beautifully he subjoins, "This happiness in all my trials has never parted from me. How great then is his favour by whose means I have enjoyed it! The days have all seemed pleasant, nor nights have ever been tedious, nor fears nor terrors have possest me, but a constant peace and tranquillity of the mind, whose agitation has been chiefly in thanks and acknowledgments to him by whose grace I have subsisted, and shall yet I hope participate of his blessings upon you. I have the more enlarged myself in this, that you might have a right view of the condition which I suffer, least from a bye relation, as through a perspective not truly representing, some false sence might be contracted. Neither could I thinke that altogether unusefull for your knowledge which may afford you both precept and example. Consider it, weigh it duly, and when you find a signe or indication of some error, make it an instruction how to avoid the like; if there appears but the resemblance of some virtue, suppose it better, and make it a president for yourselves; when you meet the prints and footsteps of the almightie, magnify the goodness of his providence and miracles that makes such low descents; consider that there is a nature turns all sweetness into venom, when from the bitterest hearbs the bee extracts a honie. Industry and the habit of the soule give the effect and operation upon all things, and that to one seems barren and unpleasant to another is made fruitfull and delightsome. Even in this, by your application and endeavour, I am confident may be found both pleasure and advantage. This comes only as a testimony of my love (and soe you must accept it, the time yielding noe other waie of demonstration), and by this expression know that I daily praie for your happiness and felicity as the chief subject of my wishes, and shall make my continual supplication to the Lord, that from the riches of his mercie he will give you such influence of his graces as your blessing and prosperitie may satisfy, and enlarge the hopes and comforts of your most affectionate father."

This is the nature which turns venom into sweetness. Hampden hastens to assure him that the present conduct of his sons is all he could desire. "If ever you live," he writes, " to see a fruite answerable to the promise of the present blossoms, it will be a blessing of that weight as will turn the scale against all worldly afflictions, and denominate your life happy." His affection had spoken with too generous a haste. The elder son, John Eliot, who had been sent, by his father's desire, to Oxford, fell into many irregularities, and greatly offended the superiors of his college. This was afterwards only slightly intimated to his father, but it cost him much pain. The younger boy, Richard Eliot, remained at Hampden's seat, and pursued his studies under Hampden's care. He appears to have interested his illustrious tutor extremely. Delicately, however, Hampden is obliged to intimate to his friend, at last, that even Richard is somewhat remiss in his studies. Eliot immediately writes to the boy. He begins by a slight reproach for his not having written to his father. "I had no little doubt, after so long a silence, where you were, or whether you were or no." He desires him to forego the temptations of his young acquaintance; to