they ought to be, HABITUAL, would involve neither trouble nor expense. To contrast the manners of Old England with what we may almost term the manners of New England-the young, lounging, doing-as-they-like, cigar-smoking, indifferent, loose-coated men of the present with the courtly,

polished, earnest, and well-dressed men of the past century is by no means agreeable.

The high-toned mind, the gallant bearing, the innate sense of chivalric honour, remain in the history and writings of the past. We know nothing

Baynard's Castle.

of chivalry except from books-such books as those around us, the Poetic Chroniclers of England,' and above all these, Sir Richard Lovelace deserves especial note. A quaint collector of old songs, whose little volume is bound in roughest russet, says that he can compare none to Colonel Lovelace, save Sir Philip Sidney, of which latter it is told by one in an epitaph made of him—

Nor is it fit that more I should acquaint,

Lest men adore in one

A scholar, souldier, lover, and a saint."

The parallel between these two men naturally suggests itself to all who read their writings. They were both of noble parentage, Sir Philip's father being deputy of Wales, our colonel, of a viscount's name and family -both accomplished scholars; the one celebrating his mistress under the name of 'Stella,' the other the lady regent of his affections under the banner of Lucasta; both of them imbued with the spirit of true poetry, though its degree of strength was different, Lovelace being the feebler and less industrious of the two; but both being of undoubted bravery, and overflowing with that true, unshaken loyalty, the unfailing offspring of nobler souls. It is impossible to think of Sir Richard Lovelace without admiration and sympathy. Woolwich has good reason to be proud of his birth, and the Charter House of his education.* He graduated with due

* The name of this noble foundation is a corruption of the French Chartreuse, and it obtained its name from the establishment of a monastery of Carthusians in the reign of Edward III. It became a rich place, and was among the first seized by Henry VIII.; but its inmates so inflexibly opposed his supremacy, that John Houghton, the prior, and many of the monks, were executed at Tyburn, and their heads and quarters set on the gates of the city, the prior's being reserved for exposure on the Charter House. After it had passed through the hands of many of Henry's rapacious courtiers, it was purchased by Thomas Howard, fourth Duke of Norfolk, who resided in it. It was purchased by Sutton, in 1611, for the sum of 13,000l., and converted into a hospital and school, making it one of the noblest foundations in England. Eighty pensioners and forty-two scholars are supported in the establishment. The former according to Sutton's statutes, should be gentlemen by descent and in poverty; soldiers that have borne arms by sea or land; merchants decayed by piracy or shipwreck; or servants in the household of the King and Queen's majesty. But these regulations were soon enlarged for needy or impotent people' in general, who now have apartments, food, attendance, and 201. yearly in money. There is no nobler or more liberal institution, and none which has been more instrumental in smoothing the last years of deserving unfortunates.

honour at Gloucester Hall, Oxford, in 1636.* On leaving College he 'retired,' as Wood phrases it, in great splendour to the court,' where he

was well received; and having attracted the attention of Lord Goring, he entered the army and became first an ensign, and afterwards a captain.

Gloucester Hall, 'originally an ancient house of learning, built by the monks of St. Peter Gloster for the education of their novices in academical learning,' is now Worcester College. It changed its name early in the last century, when Sir Thomas Cooke having by will, dated June 8, 1701, left 10,000l. for the increase of some house of learning, that sum, remaining unapplied for some years, amounted to 15,000l., it was given to Gloster Hall, which by letters patent, dated July 14, 1741, was called Worcester College. The old buildings gave way to a more befitting structure, and the features of Lovelace's place of education were obliterated so much as to destroy its connection with his name.

On the pacification of Berwick he took possession of his estate, which was worth about 500l. per annum, and was deputed by the men of Kent to deliver their petition to the House of Commons, requesting the king to be restored and the government settled, which gave such offence that he was doomed to imprisonment in the old Westminster gatehouse, where so many were, from time to time, deprived of their liberty; there he composed one of his favourite poems that well deserved the praise bestowed upon it by the old cavaliers :

'Stone walls doe not a prison make,

Nor iron bars a cage;
Mindes, innocent and quiet, take

That for an hermitage.

If I have freedom in my love,

And in my soule am free,

Angels alone, that soar above,
Enjoy such libertie.'

To us there has always been a most exquisite quaintness and simplicity in the lines,

'Mindes, innocent and quiet, take

That for an hermitage.'

But the whole is beautiful; and, when his confinement produced a gem of such perfect workmanship as this, we are almost selfish enough to regret his liberation, which, however, did not take place until he had given security in a bail of 40,000l. that he would not quit the country. Truly, his heart and hopes were too much with the kingly power to forsake it. According to old Wood, his biographer, he was accounted the most amiable and beautiful person that eye ever beheld; a person, also, of innate modesty, virtue, and courtly deportment, which made him then, but especially afterwards when he retired' to the great city-much admired and loved by the female sex.' During the time of his confinement in London he lived beyond the income of his estate, either to keep up the credit and reputation of the king's cause, by furnishing men with horses and arms, or by relieving ingenious men in want, whether they were scholars, musicians, soldiers, friends, openly or secretly, of the royal cause -enjoying the freedom of generosity; proving by his actions the poetry of his nature; winging his thoughts upon such elastic verse, that the idea

of his liberality and his genius became one and the same thing. His manners were of such gentle courtliness that he led those whom he obliged to the belief that they were obliging him. Lovelace is a just example of the poets of his time, when the making of verses was considered a chief excellence in a courtier-the most approved of all relaxations; and when, to the good graces of women, more prone in those days to a love of poetry than a love of gold, it was a ready, if not a necessary, passport.

The lover then was invariably the laureate of his mistress, whose duty it was to record the most trifling incident that chanced to her, and to labour so that her smallest attraction might obtain immortality. Thus the compositions of Lovelace are chiefly the productions of happier hours, and tell of joys begotten by a smile, or easily-endured woes, the produce of a short-lived frown. Unfortunately, the events they commemorated were seldom such as have universal interest. The wearing of a glove, the blemish of a pimple, or the infliction of a toothache, were considered topics more fitting to occupy a poet's thoughts and pen than the noble, enduring, and endearing ties which bind virtuous men to virtuous women. Frequent instances of this straining after an undesirable effect is to be found amongst the old poets, mingled up with their chivalry, both of love and war. This trifling was a species of courtly excrescence, an excess of refinement less offensive in its weakness than the roughness of modern society; the latter irritates, the former only creates a smile.

Lucy Sacheverell was the lady to whom Sir Richard addressed his love. His beautiful lines to her, on his going to the wars, are worthy of any poet :

'Tell me not, sweet, I am unkind,

That from the nunnerie

Of thy chaste breast and quiet minde,
To warre and arms I flie.

True, a new mistress now I chase,
The first foe in the field;

And with a stronger faith embrace
A sword, a horse, a shield.

Yet this inconstancy is such

As you, too, shall adore ;

I could not love thee, deare, so much,
Lov'd I not honour more.'