his imprisonment was increased. Pory the letter writer, indeed, remarked, about this time, " I heare sir John Eliot is to remove out of his darke smoakey lodging into a better;" but I can find no evidence of the removal. On the contrary, shortly before his last letter to Hampden, he had written to Bevil Grenville (who then opposed the court, but afterwards, with no suspicion of his virtue, died fighting for the king at Landsdowne) a statement of increased restraint. His friend had by letter alluded to some rumours that were then abroad1, and on the faith of which Pory seems to have gossiped, as above, of his probable liberation. "The restraint and watch uppon me," Eliot answers, "barrs much of my intercourse with my friends ; while their presence is denied me, and letters are soe dangerous and suspected, as it is little that way we exchange; soe as if circumstances shall condemn me, I must stand guiltie in their judgments; yet yours, (though with some difficultie I have received, and manie times when it was knocking at my door, because their convoy could not enter they did retire again, wherein I must commend the caution of your messenger, but at length it found a safe passage by my servant)-made mee happie in your favour, for which this comes as a,retribution and acknowledgment. For those rumours which you meet that are but artificial, or by chance, it must be your wisdom not to credit them. Manie such false fires are flyinge dailie in the ear. When there shall be occasion, expect that intelligence from frends; for which in the meene time you do well to be provided; though I shall crave when that dispute falls, properlie and for reasons not deniable, a change of your intention in particulars as it concerns myselfe, - in the rest I shall concur in all readiness to serve you, and in all you shall command me who am nothing but as you represent." His concluding words are affecting. "My humble service to your ladie, and tell her that yet I doubt not to kisse her hand. Make much of my godson."

Immediately after this, instead of any evidence of better treatment, I have to furnish proof of an accession of the most savage and atrocious severity. Eliot hitherto had been permitted, under certain restrictions, to receive visits from his friends. This poor privilege was now withdrawn, and - it is well that this is to be offered on the best authority, or I could not have asked the reader to give credence to it the comfort of a fire, necessary to life in a damp prison, whose inmate already struggled with a disorder brought on by cold, was, in the depth of winter, wholly, or almost wholly, denied to Eliot! On the 26th of December, 1631, he thus writes to Hampden: "That I write not to you anything of intelligence, will be excused when I do let you know that I am under a new restraint, by warrant from the king, for a supposed abuse of liberty, in admitting a free resort of visitants, and under that color holding consultations with my friends. My lodgings are removed, and I am now where candle-light may be suffered, but scarce fire. I hope you will think that this exchange of places makes not a change of minds. The same protector is still with me, and the same confidence, and these things can have end by him that gives them being. None but my servants, hardly my son, may have admittance to me. My friends I must desire, for their own sakes, to forbear coming to the Tower. You among them are chief, and have the first place in this intelligence. I have now leisure," he continues, with affecting resignation, " and shall dispose myself to business; therefore those loose papers which you had, I would cast out of the way, being now returned again unto me. In your next give me a word or two of note; for those translations you excepted at, you know we are blind towards ourselves; our friends must be our glasses; therefore in this I crave (what in all things I desire) the reflection of your judgment."

Thus, in the midst of his worst sufferings, Eliot had the consolation and sustainment of the philosophical work in which he had engaged. His own study, as I have described, had been plundered of its papers and sealed up by the king; but his friends supplied him with books; and in this office, as in every other care and kindness, Hampden was most forward.1 Sir Robert Cotton's library would have proved of inestimable value to Eliot at this time, as some few years before it had served a kindred spirit2, but the atrocious tyranny that now prevailed had reached its learned owner. Accused of having furnished precedents to Selden and Eliot, sir Robert Cotton's great library was seized and held by the king; and, unable to survive its loss, the great scholar died. I have spoken of a kindred spirit with that of Eliot. It is impossible, in describing Eliot's labours at this moment

when,

-active still, and unrestrain'd, his mind
Explor'd the long extent of ages past.
And with his prison hours enrich'd the world.

-not to recollect sir Walter Raleigh. Kindred they
were, at least, in magnanimity of spirit and large-
ness of intellect.
If it were worth while, I could
point out other resemblances. Their faces, in portraits

I have seen, were strongly like. They were both of old Devonshire families; both were new residents in Corn. wall; and, through the Champernownes, one of whom had given birth to Raleigh, their families were in a degree related. 1 They both died victims of the grossest tyranny, but not till they had illustrated to the world examples of fearless endurance, and left, for the world's instruction, the fruit of their prison hours. In one particular here, or rather accident, the resemblance fails; for Raleigh's intention of benefit was fulfilled by the publication of his labours, while Eliot's have remained to the present day unpublished, disregarded, almost unknown. I shall shortly endeavour to remove from literature at least a portion of this reproach; and, in doing so, an opportunity will be given to Eliot himself to complete this allusion to Raleigh, by one of the finest tributes that has yet been paid to that gallant and heroic spirit.

The health of the imprisoned philosopher sank day by day. His "attorney at law," however, told Pory that he was the same cheerful and undaunted man as ever. His friends now appear to have resolved to make a desperate effort to save him. I quote from one of Pory's manuscript letters to sir Robert Puckering. 2 "On Tuesday was se'nnight, Mr. Mason of Lincoln's Inn made a motion to the judges of the King's Bench for sir John Eliot, that, whereas the doctors were of opinion he could never recover of his consumption until such time as he might breathe in purer air, they would, for some certain time, grant him his enlargement for that purpose. Whereunto my lord chief justice Richardson answered, that, although sir John were brought low in body, yet was he as high and lofty in mind as ever, for he would neither submit to the king, nor to the justice of that court. In fine, it was concluded by the bench to refer him to the king by way of petition."

Eliot refused to do this, proceeded still with his

2

treatise, and uttered no complaint. Hampden continued to send him books, and, with delicate good sense, rallies him to his labours. "Make good use of the bookes you shall receive from mee, and of your time; be sure you shall render a strict account of both to your ever assured friend." As the work progressed, it was sent in portions to Hampden, who criticised it, and, as I shall show, gave value to his praise by occasional objection. "And that to satisfy you, not myselfe, but that by obeying you in a command so contrary to my own disposition, you may measure how large a power you have over John Hampden." Very little political allusion passed in these letters. It was a dangerous subject to touch, for Eliot's correspondence was never safe from exposure. 1 Some time before, he had mentioned this, as we have seen, to Grenville; and he wrote to Denzil Hollis a letter which bears upon political affairs, but only in dark hints, which he might not express more plainly. "Through a long silence," he says, "I hope you can retaine the confidence and memoire of your frende. He that knows your virtue in the generale cannot doubt any particular of your charitie. The corruption of this age, if no other danger might occur, were an excuse, even in business, for not writing. The sun, we see, begets divers monsters on the earth when it has heat and violence; time may do more on paper; therefore the safest intercourse is by harts; in this way I have much intelligence to give you, but you may divine it without prophesie."

Nearly four years had now passed over Eliot in his prison. Those popular leaders who had been subjected to confinement at the same time, had all of them, within the first eighteen months, obtained their release. 2