His multitudinous dedications to his numerous patrons, contained in the Church History,' are, many of them, very striking, and even beautiful compositions, and full of ingenious turns of thought; but they certainly attribute as much of excellence to the objects of them, as either history, or tradition, or charity can warrant us in ascribing. Something may, however, be pardoned to the spirit of the age, and something to the gratitude or necessities of the author. But that any author, even a hungry one, could be brought to write them, is a wonder; that any patron could, either with or without a blush, appropriate them, is a still greater one. It is in the conclusion to his character of the 'Good King,' in his 'Holy State,' that our author has fallen most unworthily into the complimentary extravagance of the times. He, of course, makes the reigning monarch the reality of the fair picture, and draws his character in language which truth might well interpret into the severest irony.

It would be improper to close this analysis of one of the most singular intellects that ever appeared in the world of letters, without saying a word or two of the prodigies related of his powers of memory. That he had a very tenacious one, may easily be credited, though some of its traditional feats almost pass belief. It is said that he could repeat five hundred strange words after once hearing them, and could make use of a sermon verbatim, under the like circumstances.' Still further, it is said that he undertook, in passing from Temple Bar to the extremity of Cheapside, to tell, at his return, every sign as it stood in order on both sides of the way, (repeating them either backwards or forwards), and that he performed the task exactly. This is pretty well, considering that in that

day every shop had its sign. The interpretation of such hyperboles, however, is very easy; they signify, at all events, thus much that he had an extraordinary memory. That many of the reports respecting it were false or exaggerated, may be gathered from an amusing anecdote recorded by himself. 'None alive,' says he, 'ever heard me pretend to the art of memory, who, in my book, (Holy State), have decried it as a trick, no art; and, indeed, is more of fancy than memory. I confess, some ten years since, when I came out of the pulpit of St. Dunstan's East, one (who since wrote a book thereof) told me in the vestry, before credible people, that he, in Sidney College, had taught me the art of memory. I returned unto him, that it was not so, for I could not remember that I had ever seen him before! which, I conceive, was a real refutation.'

One is prepared to meet with all sorts of oddities of manner about such a man; for it would be strange that a person so eccentric in all his writings, should not have been eccentric in his private habits; but really the following account of his method of composition passes belief. It is said that he was in the habit of writing the first words of every line near the margin down to the foot of the paper, and, that then beginning again, he filled up the vacuities exactly, without spaces, interlineations, or contractions;' and that he would so connect the ends and beginnings that the sense would appear as complete as if it had been written in a continued series, after the ordinary manner.' This, we presume, is designed to be a compliment to the ease with which he performed the process of mental composition, and the accuracy with which his memory could transfer what he had meditated to paper. But though he might occasionally

perform such a feat for the amusement of his friends, it never could have been his ordinary practice.

As we quoted, at the commencement of this essay, the opinion entertained of our author by Coleridge, we shall conclude it by citing that of Charles Lamb, than whom there could not be a more competent judge. The writings of Fuller,' says he, 'are usually designated by the title of quaint, and with sufficient reason; for such was his natural bias to conceits, that I doubt not, upon most occasions, it would have been going out of his way to have expressed himself out of them. But his wit is not always lumen siccum, a dry faculty of surprising; on the contrary, his conceits are oftentimes deeply steeped in human feeling and passion. Above all, his way of telling a story, for its eager liveliness, and the perpetual running commentary of the narrator, happily blended with the narration, is perhaps unequalled.'

* Since the preceding essay was published, have appeared 'Memorials of the Life and Works' of Fuller, by Rev. Arthur T. Russell, B.C.L. In that volume, all that either history or tradition has left respecting our author has been laboriously and faithfully compiled; and thither the reader, curious about the biography of this eccentric genius, is referred for more minute information than could be given in the sketch at the commencement of this essay.

48

ANDREW MARVELL.*

ANDREW MARVELL was a native of Kingston-uponHull, where he was born Nov. 15. 1620. His father, of the same name, was master of the grammar-school, and lecturer of Trinity Church in that town. He is described by Fuller and Echard as 'facetious,' so that his son's wit, it would appear, was hereditary. He is also said to have displayed considerable eloquence in the pulpit; and even to have excelled in that kind of oratory which would seem at first sight least allied to a mirthful temperament—that is, the pathetic. The conjunction, however, of keen wit and deep sensibility has been found in a far greater number of instances than would at first sight be imagined; as might be easily proved by examples, if this were the place for it. Nor would it be difficult to give the rationale of the fact. Each has its natural affinities with genius, and both very generally accompany it.

The diligence of Mr. Marvell's pulpit preparations has been celebrated by Fuller in his Worthies,' with characteristic quaintness. He was a most excellent preacher,' says he, 'who never broached what he had new brewed, but preached what he had pre-studied some competent time before, insomuch that he was wont to say, that he would cross the common proverb,

* Edinburgh Review,' Jan. 1844.

The Life of Andrew Marvell, the celebrated Patriot; with Extracts and Selections from his Prose and Poetical Works. By JOHN DOVE. 12mo. London: 1832.

which called Saturday the working day and Monday the holiday of preachers.' The eloquence of the pulpit he enforced by the more persuasive eloquence of a consistent life. During the pestilential epidemic of 1637, we are told that he distinguished himself by an intrepid discharge of his pastoral functions.

Having given early indications of superior talents, young Andrew was sent, when not quite fifteen years of age, to Trinity College, Cambridge, where he was partly or wholly maintained by an exhibition from his native town. He had not been long there, when, like Chillingworth, he was ensnared by the proselyting arts of the Jesuits; who, with subtlety equal to their zeal, commissioned their emissaries specially to aim at the conversion of such of the university youths as gave indications of signal ability. It appears that he was inveigled from college to London. Having been tracked thither by his father, he was discovered after some months in a bookseller's shop, and restored to the university; where, during the two succeeding years, he pursued his studies with diligence. About this period he lost his father under circumstances worth relating.

The death of this good man forms one of those little domestic tragedies. - not infrequent in real life-to which imagination itself can scarcely add one touching incident, and which are as affecting as any that fiction can furnish. It appears that on the other side of the Humber lived a lady (an intimate friend of Marvell's father) who had an only daughter, equally lovely and beloved. This idol her mother could scarcely bear to be out of her sight. On one occasion, however, she yielded to the importunity of Mr. Marvell, and suffered her daughter to cross the water to Hull, to be present at the baptism of one of his chil