He was now at liberty, but his days were still cloudy and being past these troubles, others did still multiply upon him; for his wife was, to her extreme sorrow, detained from him ;* and though, with Jacob, he endured not a hard service for her,† yet he lost a good one, and was forced to make good his title, and to get possession of her by a long and restless suit in law; which proved troublesome and sadly chargeable to him, whose youth, travel, and needless bounty, had brought his estate into a narrow compass.

It is observed, and most truly, that silence and submission are charming qualities, and work most upon passionate men; and it proved so with Sir George; for these, and a general report of Mr. Donne's merits, together with his winning behaviour, (which,

now I can desire to be well. And therfore for health, not pleasure, (of wch yr L'ps displeasure hath dulld in me all tast and apprehension,) I humbly beseeche yor L'p so much more to slacken my fetters, that as I ame by yo' L'p's favor myne own keeper and surety, so I may be myne owne phisician and apothecary, wch yor L'p shall worke, yf yow graunt me liberty to take the ayre about this towne. The whole world ys a streight imprisonm1 to me, whilst I am barrd yo' L'p's sight, but this favour may lengthen and better my lyfe, wch I desire to p'serve, onely in hope to redeeme by my sorrowe and desire to do yo' L'p service, my offence past. Allmighty God dwell ever in yo1 L'ps hart, and fill yt wth good desires, and graunt them. "Yor L'ps poorest servant,

"To the right honorable my very

J. DONNE."

good Lord and Master, St Tho. Egerton, knt., &c."—Loseley MS. * According to the monumental inscription to her memory, given in a future page, the marriage might be supposed to have taken place in the year 1602; but it has been seen, by Donne's own statement, that he was married "about three weeks before Christmas," in the year 1600; at which time he was twenty-seven years of age, and Anne More in her seventeenth year. Although marriageable by law, with the sanction of her father, under other circumstances her detention from her husband may readily be accounted for; and without enlarging on the text as to the other proceedings, the whole are illustrative of the high prerogative of the parent, never perhaps more rigidly maintained than by the maiden queen. It will be sufficient to observe, that if they were commenced in a passionate sense of injury and wrong, they terminated in remorse and forgiveness: and it may perhaps be taken as a part of Donne's penitential submission, that the monument before referred to, should have assumed the date of his marriage, not from its actual occurrence, but from the period of its confirmation by decree of the Ecclesiastical Court, which is ascertained from the original document, extant at Loseley, to have been dated the 27th April, 1602.

+ Genesis, ch. xxix.

when it would entice, had a 'strange kind of elegant irresistible art:) these and time had so dispassionated Sir George, that as the world had approved his daughter's choice, so he also could not but see a more than ordinary merit in his new son; and this at last melted him into so much remorse--for love and anger are so like agues, as to have hot and cold fits; and love in parents, though it may be quenched, yet is easily rekindled, and expires not till death denies mankind a natural heat,-that he laboured his son's restoration to his place; using to that end both his own and his sister's power to her lord,* but with no success for his

* See note, p. 27. A supplicatory letter to Sir George More, at this time, when "the storme," writes Donne, "hath shakd me to the root in my lord's favour;" must have subdued the anger of a more obdurate man :

"If I could fear yt in so much worthynes as ys in yow there were no mercy, or yf these waights opprest onely my shoulders and my fortunes, and not my conscience and hers whose good is dearer to me by much then my lyfe, I should not troble yow with my l'rs; but when I see that this storme hath shakd me at roote in my Lord's favor, wher I was well planted, and have just reason to fear that those yll reports wch malice hath raysd of me may have trobled hers, I can leave no honest way untryed to remedye these miseryes, nor find any way more honest then this, out of an humble and repentant hart, for the fault donne to yo", to beg both yor pardon, and assistance in my suite to my L. I should wrong you as much againe as I did, if I should think yow sought to destroy me; but though I be not hedlongly destroyd, I languish and rust dangerously. From seeking p'ferments abrode, my love and conscience restrains me; from hoping for them here, my Lord's disgracings cut me of. My emprisonm'ts, and theyrs whose love to me brought them to yt, hath already cost me 40l. And the love of my frinds, though yt be not utterly grounded upon my fortunes, yet I know suffers somewhat in these long and uncertain disgraces of myne; I therfore humbly beseech yow to have so charitable a pitty, of what I have, and do, and must suffer, as to take to yor selfe the comfort of having saved from such destruction as yor just anger might have layd upon him, a sorrowfull and honest man. I was bold in my last letter to beg leave of yow that I might wright to yo' daughter. Though I understand therupon, that after the Thursday yow were not displeased that I should, yet I have not, nor wyll not without yor knowledge, do yt. But now I beseech yow that I may, since I protest before God, yt is the greatest of my afflictions not to do yt. In all the world ys not more true sorrow than in my hart, nor more understanding of true repentance than in yors. And therefore God, whose pardon in such cases is never denyed, gives me leave to hope, that yow wyll favorably consider my necessityes. To his mercifull guiding and protection I commend yo", and cease to troble yo". 'Mar., 1601. "Yors in all humbleness and dutifull obedience,

"To the right worshipfull,

J. DONNE,"

St George More, knight."

D

answer was, "that though he was unfeignedly sorry for what he had done, yet it was inconsistent with his place and credit, to discharge and re-admit servants at the request of passionate petitioners."

A letter of the same date, to the Lord Keeper, more fully explains his position; and too truly, the disastrous consequences of his dismissal :-

"That offence wch was to God in this matter, his mercy hath assured my conscience is pardoned. The com'ission's who minister his anger and mercy, incline also to remitt yt. Sr George More, of whose learninge and wisdome I have good knowledge, and therfore good hope of his moderac'on, hath sayd before his last goinge, y' he was so far from being any cawse or mover of my punishment or disgrace, that if yt fitted his reputac'on he would be a suter to yo' L'p for my restorynge. All these irons are knock'd of, yett I perish in as heavy fetters as ever, whilst I languish under yo1 L'ps anger. How soone my history is dispatched! I was carefully and honestly bred; enjoyd an indifferent fortune; had (and I had understandinge enough to valewe yt) the sweetnes and security of a freedome and independency, w'thowt markinge owt to my hopes any place of profitt. I had a desire to be yo' L'ps servant, by the favor wch yor good sonne's love to me obtein'd. I was 4 years yor L'ps secretary, not dishonest nor gredy. The sicknes of wch I dyed ys, that I begonne in yor L'ps house this love. Wher I shal be buried I know not. It ys late now for me (but y' necessity, as yt hath continually an autumne and a wytheringe, so yt hath ever a springe, and must put forthe) to beginne that course wch some yeares past I purposd, to travaile, though I could now do yt, not much disadvantageously. But I have some bridle upon me now, more than then, by my marriadge of this gentlewoman; in providing for whom I can and wyll shew myself very honest, though not so fortunate. To seek p'ferm' here wth any but yo" Lip were a madnes. Every great man to whom I shall address any such suite, wyll silently dispute the case, and say, 'Would my Lord Keeper so disgraciously have imprisond him, and flung him away, if he had not donne some other great fault, of wch we hear not?' So that to the burthen of my true weaknesses, I shall have this addic'on of a very p'judiciall suspic'on, that I ame worse then I hope yo' L'p dothe thinke me, or would that the world should thinke. I have therfore no way before me; but must turn back to yr L'p, who knowes that redemtion was no less worke then creation. I know my fault so well, and so well acknowledge yt, that I protest I have not so much as inwardly grudged or startled at the punishm't. I know yo' L'ps disposic'on so well, as though in course of justice yt be of proofe against clamors of offenders, yet yt ys not strong inongh to resist yt selfe, and I know yt selfe naturally enclines yt to pitty. I know myne own necessity, owt of w'ch I humbly beg that yo' L'p wyll so much entender you hart towards me, as to give me leave to come into yr p'sence. Affliction, misery, and destruction are not there; and every wher els wher I ame, they are. 1o Martii, 1601.

J. DONNE."

"Yor L'ps most poore and most penitent servant, "To the right honorable my very good L. and master, Sr Thomas Egerton, knight,

L. keeper of the Great Seale of England."-Loseley MSS.

Sir George's endeavour for Mr. Donne's re-admission was by all means to be kept secret; for men do more naturally reluct for errors than submit to put on those blemishes that attend their visible acknowledgment. But, however, it was not long before Sir George appeared to be so far reconciled, as to wish their happiness, and not to deny them his paternal blessing; but yet refused to contribute any means that might conduce to their livelihood.

Mr. Donne's estate was the greatest part spent in many chargeable travels, books, and dear-bought experience he out of all employment that might yield a support for himself and wife, who had been curiously and plentifully educated; both their natures generous, and accustomed to confer, and not to receive courtesies: these and other considerations, but chiefly that his wife was to bear a part in his sufferings, surrounded him with many sad thoughts, and some apparent apprehensions of

want.

But his sorrows were lessened and his wants prevented, by the seasonable courtesy of their noble kinsman, Sir Francis Wolly, of Pirford, in Surrey,* who entreated them to a cohabitation

Only son of Sir John Wolley, knt., and Elizabeth, daughter of Sir William More, of Loseley, (widow of Richard Polsted, of Albury, and afterwards wife of Sir Thomas Egerton.) Sir John Wolley was latin Secretary to queen Elizabeth, after the death of Roger Ascham, in 1568; and though a layman, was appointed Prebendary of Compton-Dunham, in the church of Wells, dean of Carlisle, and Chancellor of the Garter. He was also sworn of the Privy Council, and a knight of the Shire. Francis Wolley, born in March, 1582-3, was of Merton College, Oxford. In 1600, he represented the borough of Haslemere in Parliament, and was afterwards knighted; but died unmarried, in the flower of his age.

The manor of Pyrford, is situate on the river Wey, six miles below Guildford; and became the property of Sir John Wolley, apparently by grant from queen Elizabeth, after the death of the earl of Lincoln, Lord High Admiral, in 1585.

The mansion house, standing in Aubrey's time, was mostly built by Sir John Wolley, and stood in a park well wooded and stocked with deer; with a noble approach to the gateway, by an avenue of beech and elm trees, a quarter of a mile in length, A gateway, with I.W., the initials of the builder, and some of the garden wall, are all that now remain.

In the same grave with his father, and the lady Egerton, his mother, in the chancel of St. Paul's, behind the high altar, Sir Francis Wolley, was buried, in 1610; but in 1614, their remains were removed and deposited beneath an elegant

with him; where they remained with much freedom to themselves, and equal content to him, for some years; and as their charge increased—she had yearly a child-so did his love and bounty.

It hath been observed by wise and considering men, that wealth hath seldom been the portion, and never the mark to discover good people;* but that Almighty God, who disposeth all things wisely, hath of his abundant goodness denied it-he only knows why-to many, whose minds he hath enriched with the greater blessings of knowledge and virtue, as the fairer testimonies of his love to mankind and this was the present condition of this man of so excellent erudition and endowments, whose necessary and daily expenses were hardly reconcileable

mausoleum of black and white marble, bearing their effigies, with a latin inscription, erected between the chapels of St. George and Our Lady, in the same church. This magnificent tomb was formed of a basement, from the four corners of which arose the same number of stately columns, of the composite order, supporting statues of Time, Fame, &c. On the basement stood an open coffin, containing the emaciated form of a man in the mantle of death. Upon the coffin was a double sarcophagus, with three seated figures; one in armour, resting his head on his hand; another in a furred gown; and a third, a female, in the act of withdrawing her attention from a book in which she had been reading.

Alas, for the vanity of the grave! where is now that stately tomb? Buried in the ruins of the church at the fire of London,-among the rubbish in the crypts of St. Faith, Mr. Gough, in 1783, saw sundry figures, and among them "Sir John Wolley (only half of his head gone); his lady perfect: large fragments of the tomb lying in an adjoining window."-Sepul. Mon., v. ii., p. cccxxiv. Later, Malcolm observed the sculptured effigies of the recipient and his benefactor carelessly grouped in the same dishonored guise. "Yet, start not: yonder ghastly figure is inoffensive; it is the shadow of a good man. The features of death have not yet obliterated those of life; the winding sheet encloses him, but his face is exposed. How that ray of cheerful day rests upon it! It is something-nothing. What contemplative spirits are those, almost buried in shade? A female, deep in thought. Surely they are of the Elizabethan age. And the male, wrapped in a gown, crosses his arms on his breast. Others, faintly discerned, are knights in armour. Novelist! one step further. Hesitate? Shame on you! Fear not phantoms. That pile of decaying mortality, those fragments of sculls, bones and wood are powerless; and that distant spark that approaches, is but a poor candle, to point out--who rests here!-Lond. Rediviv., v. iii., p. 61.

"I returned and saw under the sun, that the race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong; neither yet bread to the wise, nor yet riches to men of understanding."--Eccles. ix., 11.