of their inheritance, but they had lost their daughter, who is Pastorella. Now, therefore, it is their daughter who is brought home to them by Sir Calidore and recognized by chance discovery of a rose-shaped mark that had been on the infant's breast. Calidore, who had paid honour to the lowly maiden and sought her in marriage, as a gentle shepherd, won a bride of gentle blood. This being settled, it remained only to finish the quest of the Blatant Beast. That Beast had gone among the clergy, searched the cloisters of the monks, entered the church, fouled altars, and cast to ground the images, for all their goodly hue. Calidore at last brought him to bay. When the Beast ran at him, it was

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With open

mouth that seemed to containe

A full good pecke within the utmost brim,
All set with yron teeth in raunges twaine
That terrifide his foes, and arméd him,

Appearing like the mouth of Orcus grisely grim.

"And therein were a thousand tongues empight,
Of sundry kindes, and sundry quality;

Some were of dogs, that barkéd day and night;
And some of cats, that wrawling still did cry;
And some of beares, that groynd continually ;
And some of tygres, that did seem to gren
And snar at all that ever passéd by :

But most of them were tongues of mortall men,

Which spake reproachfully, not caring where or when.”

Calidore, when the Beast ramped upon him, cast his shield between, then forced him back, threw him over and held him down beneath the shield, raging and roaring.

"He grind, hee bit, he scratcht, he venim threw,
And faréd like a feend, right horrible in hew."

The Beast then, with all his hundred tongues, reviled the Knight of Courtesy, until his mouth was closed with a strong iron muzzle, and a long chain tied to it. Then, trembling like a fearful dog, the Blatant Beast followed Sir Calidore throughout all Faery land. Thus was this monster mastered that he could defame no more with his vile tongue, and so he long remained—

"Until that (whether wicked fate so framed
Or fault of men) he broke his yron chaine,
And got into the world at liberty againe."

So now he rageth sore in each degree and state

"Ne spareth he most learned wits to rate,

Ne spareth he the gentle Poet's rime;

But rends without regard of person or of time."

And Spenser adds

"Ne may this homely verse, of many meanest,
Hope to escape his venemous despite
More than my former writs, all were they cleanest
From blamefull blot, and free from all that wite
With which some wicked tongues did it backbite
And bring into a mighty Pere's displeasure,
That never so deservéd to endite.

Therefore do you, my rimes, keep better measure,
And seek to please; that now is counted wise men's
threasure."

RICHARD HOOKER was born at Heavitree, now a suburb of Exeter, in March, 1554. Like Spenser, from whom he differed in views of Church polity, he was wholly an Elizabethan writer; each came as a young Hooker. child into the reign, and they died, before

Richard

Elizabeth, within a year of each other. In literature Spenser is the greatest representative of Elizabethan Puritanism, and Hooker wrote the wisest and best argument against it. Both were true men who sought to serve God faithfully with all their powers, and they agreed more than they differed. Spenser, indeed, differed so much from the narrower Puritanism of his time, and was so fully in accord with Hooker's religious spirit, that we cannot think of them as in opposite camps. When different tendencies of thought lead men to seek one great end by different ways, and great parties are formed, it is between the lesser combatantswho confound accident with substance, and give themselves up to fierce contention about phrases, words, and outward shows that the jar is dissonant. Between the best and purest upon each side, who are one in aim, and who both look to essentials, the accord is really greater than the discord.

Richard Hooker's parents were poor, but his uncle John was a man of mark.* Richard's great-grandfather and

* "E. W." ix. IOI.

his grandfather had in their turn been mayors of the city; and the boy's schoolmaster, who found in him an actively inquiring mind, and, under a slow manner, a quiet eagerness for knowledge, urged upon his richer uncle that there ought to be found for such a nephew, in some way, at least a year's maintenance at one of the universities. John Jewel, who was also a Devonshire man, had been sent into his own county and the West of England as a visitor of churches, upon his return to England after the death of Queen Mary. Thus he had established friendly acquaintance with John Hooker, and presently afterwards he was made Bishop of Salisbury. John Hooker then visited the bishop in Salisbury, and talked about his nephew. Jewel said he would judge for himself, and offered to see the boy and his schoolmaster. When he saw them he gave a reward to the schoolmaster, and a small pension to Richard's parents, in aid of the education of their son. In 1567, when Richard Hooker was a boy of fifteen, Bishop Jewel sent him to Oxford, placing him by special recommendation under the oversight of Dr. Cole, then President of Corpus Christi College. Dr. Cole provided Hooker with a tutor, and gave him a clerk's place in the college, which yielded something in aid of his uncle's contribution and the pension from the bishop. In this way Richard Hooker's education was continued for about three years, and then, when he was eighteen, he had a dangerous illness which lasted for two months. His mother prayed continually for the life of her promising son, who used afterwards to pray in his turn "that he might never live to occasion any sorrow to so good a mother; of whom he would often say, he loved her so dearly, that he would endeavour to be good even as much for hers as for his own sake.' Being recovered at Oxford, Richard Hooker went home to Exeter on foot, with another student from Devon

* Izaak Walton's Life of Hooker is the source of these and other details.

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shire, and took Salisbury upon his way, that he might pay his respects to Bishop Jewel. The bishop invited Richard and his companion to dinner, and after dinner sent them away with good advice and benediction. Remembering after they left that he had omitted the help of a little money, the good bishop sent a servant to bring Hooker back, and when he returned said, 66 Richard, I sent for you back to lend you a horse which hath carried me many a mile, and, I thank God, with much ease." The horse was a walkingstick that Jewel had brought from Germany, And, Richard, I do not give, but lend my horse: be sure you be honest and bring my horse back to me at your return this way to Oxford. And I now give you ten groats to bear your charges to Exeter; and here is ten groats more, which I charge you to deliver to your mother, and tell her I send her a bishop's benediction with it, and beg the continuance of her prayers for me. And if you bring my horse back to me, I will give you ten groats more to carry you on foot to the college; and so God help you, good Richard." Thus the loan of the walking-stick pledged Richard to call on his way back. He did call, and then saw for the last time his kindly patron. John Jewel died in September of the same year, 1571, and Hooker would have been unable to remain at Oxford if the president of his college, Dr. Cole, had not at once bidden him go on with his studies, and undertaken to see that he did not want. After about nine months, also, Hooker was aided by a legacy from the bishop-a legacy of love, not of money.

Not long before his death Jewel had been talking to his friend Edwin Sandys, who had newly succeeded Edmund Grindal in the bishopric of London. In his talk he had said much of the pure nature and fine intellect and studious life of young Richard Hooker. The Bishop of London resolved, as he heard this, that when he should send Edwin, his son, to college, though he was himself a Cambridge man,

B B-VOL. IX.