house, and died an edifying death in his own palace.-Bacon, the services for which he had sold his honour forgotten, perished in destitute poverty-the learned head and the brave heart of Raleigh could not save him from the steel of the executioner; and disgrace was the portion accorded to the honesty and profound sagacity of Sir Edward Coke. In times thus ordered, it is gratifying to find one instance where worth and valour, and learning and prosperity, were all united, as they were in the person of Edward, Lord Herbert of Cherbury.

Even in making these very few observations, we feel as though we were wronging our readers, and detaining them from a banquet by expatiating on the excellence of the viands. To those, indeed, who have not already devoured the work, we can promise a rich and delightful feast, which we hope they may relish with a zest equal to that which, as we well recollect, attended our first perusal of these captivating memoirs.

Edward Herbert, afterwards created Lord Herbert of Cherbury in England, was born in the year 1581, and was the eldest son of Richard Herbert, Esq. a gentleman of ancient family in Monmouthshire. Many of his ancestors were celebrated for their valour, a quality which they transmitted unimpaired to their descendant. His great grandfather, Sir Richard Herbert, "was that incomparable hero, who (in the history of Hall and Grafton, as it appears) twice passed through a great army of Northern men, alone, with his pole-axe in his hand, and returned without any mortal hurt, which is more than is famed of Amadis de Gaul, or the Knight of the Sun." The subject of the memoirs before us, received his earliest education in the house of his "lady grandmother," where he profited so much, that before he was nine years of age, he made an oration of a sheet of paper, and fifty or sixty verses in the space of a day on the theme of Audaces fortuna juvat. At the age of twelve, he was sent to the University of Oxford; and in 1598, he married the daughter of Sir William Herbert, of St. Gillians; after which event, he returned to Oxford, and "followed his book more close than ever." When he was about eighteen, his mother took a house in London, in which he resided with her for some years. On his arrival in the metropolis, he was introduced at the court of Elizabeth.

"About the year of our Lord 1600, I came to London, shortly after which the attempt of the Earl of Essex, related in our history, followed; which I had rather were seen in the writers of that argument, than here. Not long after this, curiosity, rather than ambition, brought me to court; and as it was the manner of those times, for all men to kneel down before the great Queen Elizabeth, who then reigned, I was likewise upon my knees in the presence chamber, when she passed by the chapel at Whitehall. As soon as she saw me, she stopped, and

swearing by her oath, demanded, Who is this? Every body there present looked upon me, but no man knew me, until Sir James Croft, a pensioner, finding the Queen staid, returned back and told who I was, and that I had married Sir William Herbert, of St. Gillians', daughter. The Queen hereupon looked attentively upon me, and swearing again her ordinary oath, said, it is pity he was married so young, and thereupon gave her hand to kiss twice, both times gently clapping me upon the cheek. I remember little more of myself, but that from that time until King James's coming to the crown, I had a son which died shortly afterwards, and that I attended my studies seriously; the more I learnt out of my books, adding still a desire to know more."

On the accession of James I. he was made a knight of the Bath, on which occasion he experienced some extraordinary marks of attention, which he has recorded in his life. On the sleeve of the robe with which the knight was invested, it was formerly usual to fasten a knot of white silk and gold, which was to be worn until the knight" had done something famous in arms, or until some lady of honour should take it off, and fasten it on her sleeve, saying, I will answer he shall prove a good knight." Sir Edward Herbert had not long worn the knot, when a principal lady of the court, whose name is now lost to us, but who was 66 certainly, in most men's opinions, the handsomest," took off the knot from the new knight's sleeve, and pledged her honour for his. An incident like this might have awakened all the feelings of chivalric gallantry in a heart less sensible to their impressions, than that of Sir Edward Herbert. In the year 1608, Sir Edward resolved, notwithstanding his lady's aversion to the measure, to visit the continent; and accordingly proceeded to Paris, where he became acquainted with the Constable Montmorency, the hero of Dreux and St. Denis. During his residence at the castle of Merlon, the residence of " that brave old general," Sir Edward displayed, in the following manner, the almost Quixotic gallantry of his disposition:

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Passing two or three days here, it happened one evening that a daughter of the duchess, of about ten or eleven years of age, going from the castle to walk in the meadows, myself, with divers French gentlemen, attended her and some gentlewomen that were with her. The young lady wearing a knot of ribband on her head, a French chevalier took it suddenly and fastened it to his hatband. The young lady, addressing herself to me, said, Monsieur, I pray get my ribband from that gentleman; hereupon, going towards him courteously, with my hat in my hand, desired him to do me the honour, that I may deliver the lady her ribband or bouquet again; but he roughly answering me, Do you think I will give it you, when I have refused it to her? I replied, Nay, then, sir, I will make you restore it by force; whereupon also, putting on my hat and reaching at his, he, to save himself, ran

away, and, after a long course in the meadow, finding that I had almost overtook him, he turned short; and running to the young lady, was about to put the ribband on her hand, when I, seizing upon his arm, said to the young lady, it was I that gave it. Pardon me, quoth she, it is he that gives it me. I said, then, madam, I will not contradict you; but if he dare say, that I did not constrain him to give it, I will fight with him. The French gentleman answered nothing thereunto for the present, and so conducted the young lady again to the castle. The next day, I desired Mr. Aurelian Townsend to tell the French cavalier, that either he must confess that I constrained him to restore the ribband, or fight with me; but the gentleman seeing him unwilling to accept of this challenge, went out from the place, whereupon, I following him, some of the gentlemen that belonged to the Constable taking notice hereof, acquainted him therewith, who, sending for the French chevalier, checked him well for his sauciness, in taking the ribband away from his grandchild, and afterwards bid him depart his house; and this was all I ever heard of the gentleman, with whom I proceeded in that manner, because I thought myself obliged thereunto by the oath taken when I was made knight of the Bath, as I formerly related upon this occasion."

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The pugnacious qualities of our hero now began most rapidly to develope themselves. It was not, however, either out of the rashness and impatience of his disposition, or from a spirit of bravado, that he was thus ready to unsheath his sword. To encounter an adversary, in single combat, was with him a matter of ordinary occurrence, which he appears to have considered as a part of his usual vocation. Whenever he witnessed an injury or an insult, he immediately constituted himself the champion of the offended party. "I remember," says he," that three other times I engaged myself to challenge men to fight with me, who I conceived had injured ladies and gentlewomen:" and again, "I had another occasion to challenge one Captain Vaughan, who, I conceived, offered some injury to my sister, the lady Jones, of Abarmarlas." Though he thus frankly hazarded himself for his friends, he never drew his sword in his own personal quarrels. At Paris, Sir Edward met with as valiant and ready a swordsman as himself-the famous Monsieur Balagny.

"All things being ready for the ball, and every one being in their place, and I myself next to the Queen, expecting when the dancers would come in, one knocked at the door somewhat louder than became, as I thought, a very civil person; when he came in, I remember there was a sudden whisper among the ladies, saying, C'est Monsieur Balagny, or, it is Monsieur Balagny; whereupon also, I saw the ladies and gentlewomen, one after another, invite him to sit near them; and which is more, when one lady had his company a while, another would say, You have enjoyed him long enough, I must have

him now; at which bold civility of theirs, though I were astonished, yet it added to my wonder, that his person could not be thought, at most, but ordinarily handsome; his hair, which was cut very short, half grey; his doublet but of sackcloth cut to his shirt, and his breeches only of plain grey cloth. Informing myself by some standersby who he was, I was told that he was one of the gallantest men in the world, as having killed eight or nine men in single fight,—and that, for this reason, the ladies made so much of him, it being the manner of all Frenchwomen to cherish gallant men, as thinking they could not make so much of any else with the safety of their honour. This cavalier, though his head was half grey, he had not yet attained the age of thirty years, whom I have thought fit to remember more particularly here, because of some passages that happened afterwards betwixt him and me, at the siege of Juliers, as I shall tell in its place."

The following is the " passage" which occurred at the siege of Juliers.

"One day, Sir Edward Cecill and myself coming to the approaches that Monsieur de Balagny had made towards a bulwark or bastion of that city, Monsieur de Balagny, in the presence of Sir Edward Cecill and divers English and French captains then present, said, Monsieur, on dit que vous etes un des plus braves de votre nation, et je suis Balagny, allons voir qui faira-le mieux; they say, you are one of the bravest of your nation, and I am Balagny, let us see who will do best; whereupon leaping suddenly out of the trenches with his sword drawn, I did in the like manner as suddenly follow him, both of us in the mean while striving who should be foremost, which being perceived by those of the bulwark and cortine opposite to us, three or four hundred shot at least, great and small, were made against us. Our running on forwards, in emulation of each other, was the cause that all the shots fell betwixt us and the trench from which we sallied; when Monsieur Balagny, finding such a storm of bullets, said, Par dieu il fait bien chaud; it is very hot here. I answered briefly thus: Vous en ires premier, autrement je n'iray jamais; you shall go first, or else I will never go. Hereupon he ran with all speed, and somewhat crouching towards the trenches, I followed after leisurely and upright, and yet came within the trenches before they on the bulwark or cortine could charge again; which passage afterwards being related to the Prince of Orange, he said it was a strange bravado of Balagny, and that we went to an unavoidable death."*

* Monsieur Balagny died as might have been expected. "There fell out a great quarrel last week between Monsieur Balagny and one Monsieur Pimocin, who encountering together in the streets, the said Pimocin was slain, and Balagny himself was sorely wounded, and some others who came in to part them.-Winwood's Memorials, iii. 350. In a subsequent Letter, M. Balagny is said to have died of his

wounds.

But amidst all our hero's valiant achievements, there is none that can compete with his magnificent encounter with Sir John Ayres, which for the courage, address, and firmness, displayed in it, may rival any legend in the romances of chivalry. Lady Ayres had been so struck with the noble appearance and gallant spirit of Sir Edward Herbert, that she obtained an enamelled miniature of him, which she concealed in her bosom. This incident coming to the knowledge of Sir John, naturally enough excited his jealousy, though the object of the lady's admiration has unequivocally cleared her honour. The desire of vengeance which Sir John Ayres felt was too fierce to allow him to meet his foe in open combat, and he therefore prudently resolved to " kill him in his bed," or any way that he could." The following proceedings were the consequence of this valiant resolution.

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"After this, finding he could take no advantage against me, then in a treacherous way he resolved to assassinate me in this manner; hearing I was come to Whitehall on horseback with two lacqueys only, he attended my coming back in a place called Scotland-yard, at the hither end of Whitehall, as you come to it from the Strand, hiding himself here with four men armed on purpose to kill me. I took horse at Whitehall-gate, and passing by that place, he being armed with a sword and dagger, without giving me so much as the least warning, ran at me furiously, but, instead of me, wounded my horse in the brisket, as far as his sword could enter for the bone; my horse hereupon starting aside, he ran him again in the shoulder, which though it made the horse more timorous, yet gave me time to draw my sword. His men thereupon encompassed me, and wounded my horse in three places more; this made my horse kick and fling in that manner as his men durst not come near me; which advantage I took to strike at Sir John Ayres with all my force, but he warded the blow both with his sword and dagger; instead of doing him harm, I broke my sword within a foot of the hilt. Hereupon some passenger that knew me, and observing my horse bleeding in so many places, and so many men assaulting me, and my sword broken, cried to me several times, Ride away, ride away;' but I, scorning a base flight upon what terms soever, instead thereof alighted as well as I could from my horse. had no sooner put one foot upon the ground, but Sir John Ayres pursuing me, made at my horse again, which the horse perceiving, pressed on me on the side I alighted, in that manner that he threw me down, so that I remained flat upon the ground, only one foot hanging in the stirrup, with that piece of a sword in my right hand; Sir John Ayres hereupon ran about the horse, and was thrusting his sword into me, when I finding myself in this danger, did with both my arms reaching at his legs pull them towards me, till he fell down backwards on his head. One of my footmen hereupon, who was a little Shropshire boy, freed my foot out of the stirrup; the other, which was a great fellow, having run away as soon as he saw the first assault. This gave me

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