whole circuit of the ramparts. The Irish guns continued to roar all night, and all night the bells of the rescued city made answer to the Irish guns with a peal of joyous defiance. Through the three following days the batteries of the enemy continued to play. But on the third night flames were seen arising from the camp; and, when the first of August dawned, a line of smoking ruins marked the site lately occupied by the huts of the besiegers, and the citizens saw far off the long column of spikes and standards retreating up the left bank of the Foyle towards Strabane. A Five generations have since passed away, and still the wall of Londonderry is to the Protestants of Ulster what the trophy of Marathon was to the Athenians. lofty pillar, rising from a bastion which bore during many weeks the heaviest fire of the enemy, is seen far up and down the Foyle. On the summit is the statue of Walker, such as when, in the last and most terrible emergency, his eloquence roused the fainting courage of his brethren. In one hand he grasps a Bible; the other, pointing down the river, seems to direct the eyes of his famished audience to the English topmasts in the distant bay. Such a monument was well deserved; yet it was scarcely needed, for in truth the whole city is to this day a monument of the great deliverance. The wall is carefully preserved; nor would any plea of health or convenience be held by the inhabitants sufficient to justify the demolition of that sacred enclosure which, in the evil time, gave shelter to their race and their religion. The summit of the ramparts forms a pleasant walk. The bastions have been turned into little gardens. Here and there, among the shrubs and flowers, may be seen the old culverins which scattered bricks, cased with lead, among the Irish ranks. One antique gun, the gift of the fishmongers of London, was distinguished during the hundred and five memorable days by the loudness of its report, and still bears the name of Roaring Meg. The cathedral is filled with relics and trophies. In the vestibule is a huge shell, one of many hundreds of shells which were thrown into the city. Over the altar are still seen the French flagstaves, taken by the garrison in a desperate sally. The white ensigns of the Bourbons have long been dust, but their place has been supplied by new banners, the work of the fairest hands in Ulster. The anniversary of the day on which the gates were closed, and the anniversary of the day on which the siege was raised, have been down to our own time celebrated by salutes, processions, banquets, and sermons. There is still a Walker Club and a Murray Club. The humble tombs of the Protestant captains have been carefully sought out, repaired, and embellished. It is impossible not to respect the sentiment which indicates itself by these tokens. It is a sentiment which belongs to the higher and purer part of human nature, and which adds not a little to the strength of states. people which takes no pride in the noble achievements of remote ancestors will never achieve anything worthy to be remembered with pride by remote descendants. Yet it is impossible for the moralist or the statesman to look with unmixed complacency on the solemnities with which Londonderry commemorates her deliverance, and on the honours which she pays to those who saved her. Unhappily, the animosities of her brave champions have descended with their glory. The faults which are ordinarily found in dominant castes and dominant sects have not seldom shown themselves without disguise at her festivities; and even with the expressions of pious A gratitude which have resounded from her pulpits have too often been mingled words of wrath and defiance. (From History of England, Chap. XII.; Works, 1866, vol. ii.) Trevelyan's Life and Letters of Lord Macaulay (1876) is one of the great biographies of the nineteenth century. Interesting criticisms of Macaulay may be found in J. Cotter Morison's Macaulay (English Men of Letters' series), in Leslie Stephen's Hours in a Library, in Bagehot's Literary Studies, in John Morley's Critical Miscellanies, and in vol. ii. of M. Taine's History of English Literature. His accuracy has been disputed by John Paget, in his New Examen (1861) and Puzzles and Paradoxes (1874); by James Spedding, in Evenings with a Reviewer (1881); and by Sir J. F. Stephen, in The Story of Nuncomar (1885). RICHARD LODGE. John Austin (1790-1859), born at Creeting Mill, Suffolk, served some five years in the army in Sicily and Malta, but in 1818 was called to the Bar In 1820 he married Sarah Taylor (daughter of John Taylor of Norwich;' see Vol. II. p. 742), and from 1826 to 1832, when he resigned from lack of students, was Professor of Jurisprudence in the newly founded university of London (now University College). His Province of Jurisprudence Determined, defining (on a utilitarian basis) the sphere of ethics and law, practically revolutionised English views on the subject. He was once or twice put upon a royal commission, but his health was bad; in 1841-44 he lived in Germany, and in 1844-48 in Paris. The Revolution of 1848 drove him back to England, and he then settled at Weybridge, where he died. His Lectures on Jurisprudence were published by his widow (1863; new ed. by Campbell, 1869). A Memoir by Mrs Austin was prefixed to a new edition of the Province (1861). Mrs Austin (1793-1867) was known by her translations from German and French, including Ranke's Popes and Guizot's Civilisation, and wrote books on Germany and national education. The only child of this gifted couple, Lucie (1821-69), who married Sir Alexander Duff Gordon (1811-72; latterly a Commissioner of Inland Revenue), was also an accomplished translator from the German, and in South Africa, whither she had gone for her health, indited her vivacious Letters from the Cape (1862; new ed., with preface by George Meredith, 1903). From 1862 she lived, almost like a native, on the Nile or in Egypt, whence she sent to the press two series of Letters from Egypt. See Three Generations of Englishwomen (1889), by Janet Ross, daughter of Lady Duff Gordon; who has also written several books on things Tuscan. John Kitto (1804-54), son of a Plymouth stone-mason, worked at his father's craft, but in 1817 became stone-deaf through a fall, and, sent to the workhouse, learned shoemaking. In 1824 he went to Exeter to learn dentistry; in 1825 he published Essays and Letters; at the Missionary College at Islington he learned printing; in 1829-33 he accompanied a patron on a tour to the East. The rest of his life was spent in the service of the publishers, chiefly in that of Charles Knight. His principal works are The Pictorial Bible (1838; new ed. 1855); two works on Palestine; one of powerful autobiographical interest, on The Lost Senses— Deafness and Blindness (1845); Daily Bible Illustrations (1849-53; new ed. by Dr Porter, 1867); and he edited the Journal of Sacred Literature. He was a D.D. of Giessen; and there are Lives of him by Ryland (1856) and Eadie (1857). Henry Rogers (1806-77), born at St Albans, became a Congregational preacher, and was Professor of English at University College, London (1836-39), and at Spring Hill College, Birmingham, and president (1858-71) of the Lancashire Independent College, Manchester. Having made a first venture with a volume of Poems Miscellaneous and Sacred (1826), he contributed admirable critical and biographical articles to the Edinburgh (republished in 1850-55 as Essays), and wrote much also for other reviews and magazines, as also for the Encyclopædia Britannica. Among his more notable works are a Life of John Howe (1836); The Eclipse of Faith (1852), a criticism of various current forms of religious unbeliefs, and a Defence (1854) of it in reply to F. W. Newman; an Essay on Thomas Fuller (1856); and The Superhuman Origin of the Bible (1873; 9th ed., with Memoir by Dr Dale, 1893). Philip Henry, Earl Stanhope (1805-75), a descendant of the first Earl of Chesterfield, and fourth in descent from the first Earl of Stanhope, Prime Minister of England in 1717, was known as Lord Mahon until he succeeded his father in the earldom in 1855. Educated at Oxford, he entered the House of Commons as a moderate Tory in 1830, and was successively Foreign Under-Secretary and President of the Indian Board of Control under Peel, who made him one of his literary executors. It was he that introduced the Copyright Bill of 1842, which, with Macaulay's amendments, became the Act still in force. His first work that drew attention was the History of the War of the Succession in Spain (1832), which was praised, with some reservations, by Macaulay in the Edinburgh Review. It was followed four years later by the first volume of his History of England from the Peace of Utrecht to the Peace of Versailles (1836-54), which, when supplemented with the Life of William Pitt (1861) and the History of the Reign of Queen Anne (1870), became a complete history of England in the eighteenth century, and, in spite of later and more ambitious writers, is not yet out of date. Some chapters of it were afterwards published separately in two small volumes, entitled The Forty-Five' and A History of British India till the Peace of 1783. Stanhope undoubtedly, as Macaulay allowed, had many of the best qualities of an historian, 'great diligence in examining authorities, great judgment in weighing testimony, and great impartiality in estimating characters.' His experience as a politician had taught him to understand the springs of political history, and his acquaintance with many of those who had been actors in some of the scenes he describes avails often to give authentic vividness to his narrative. While neither a brilliant writer nor a deep or original thinker, he is to be ranked among the most trustworthy and agreeable of English historians. His industry as a writer was untiring and various. He published a History of Spain under Charles II., a collection of Essays and Miscellanies, and two short biographies of Belisarius and the great Condé, the latter an admirable monograph originally written and issued privately in French. He was editor also of Peel's Memoirs and Chesterfield's Letters, and was mainly instrumental in procuring the appointment of the Historical MSS. Commission and the foundation of the National Portrait Gallery. The Surrender at Brihuega. Their left wing under Stanhope consisted of eight battalions and as many squadrons; all of them English except only one battalion of Portuguese, and even that commanded by English officers. Thinned as were both battalions and squadrons by this toilsome campaign, the total numbers did not exceed 5500 men. It had been agreed with Staremberg that he and Stanhope should proceed in parallel lines. Stanhope was to march in four days from Chinchon to Brihuega, and there halt to give his troops some rest and to bake for them some bread, while Staremberg did the like at Cifuentes, the two places being about five hours' march from each other. Brihuega is a town of great antiquity; the Roman Centobriga, built on the River Tajuna and with high uplands around it on every side but one. For its defence it had only a decaying Moorish wall. In pursuance of this plan, Stanhope had entered Brihuega late at night on the 6th of December. Next day he employed himself in collecting corn and in baking loaves. So adverse to him was the disposition in all Castille that neither at Brihuega nor through his four days' march did he receive the slightest intimation of the enemy's advance. It was therefore with surprise that, on the morning of the 8th, he observed some of their horse on the brow of the neighbouring hills. His surprise increased when, early in the afternoon, there appeared some infantry also. Till that time,' he writes, 'nobody with me, nor I believe did the Marshal, imagine that they had any foot within some days' march of us. And our misfortune is owing to the incredible diligence which their army made; for having, as we have since learnt, decamped from Talavera on the 1st of December, they arrived before Brihuega on the 8th, which is forty-five long leagues.' In face of a force so superior to his own, Stanhope could not attempt to march out of Brihuega and seek a junction with Staremberg. He despatched one of his aides-de-camp full speed to apprise the Marshal of his danger, gave a becoming answer to a summons of surrender which was sent him by Vendome, and prepared for a resolute defence until succour should arrive. All that night his men were most actively employed in barricading the gates and making loopholes for musketry in the houses. Before sunset there had already come up 6000 of the enemy's cavalry and 3000 of their foot. Vendome sent the Marquis of Valdecañas with one division to seize the bridge over the Tajuna, which was outside the town; and he completed his investment of the latter. Towards midnight he was joined by several more bodies of his troops, with twelve pieces of the battering train. These he at once disposed in due order, and at daybreak of the 9th of December they began to play. Two breaches were soon made in the old Moorish wall. Through these the Spaniards poured in. But the English had cast up entrenchments behind the breaches, as also barricades across the streets, and they continued to defend themselves with the utmost intrepidity. Several times were the assailants driven back in disarray. After some hours of sharp conflict a short pause ensued. But at three in the afternoon Vendome, having sent a second summons, which was rejected like the former, gave orders for a general assault. Besides playing fieldpieces from the hills, which were so close as to command most of the streets, and besides renewing the onset in the two breaches, he sprang a mine under one of the gates. Some of his men, moreover, found means to break passages through the wall into houses which adjoined it; and there they established themselves in force before they were perceived. The English, however, with unabated spirit still fought on. Still on every point they beat back their assailants. How many an anxious look must they meanwhile have cast to the opposite heights, on which they expected every moment to see Staremberg and his army appear! Hour after hour passed and no sign of such succour came. Still worse was the rumour now rife among themselves, that their own ammunition had begun to fail. Even then the resistance of these stout soldiers did not cease. 'Even with bayonets'-so writes Stanhope to Lord Dartmouth-'the enemy were more than once driven out by some of our troops who had spent their shot; and when no other remedy was left, the town was preserved some time by putting fire to the houses which they had possessed, and where many of them were destroyed; . . . and when things were reduced to the last extremity, that the enemy had a considerable body of men in the town, and that in our whole garrison we had not five hundred men who had any ammunition left, I thought myself obliged in conscience to save so many brave men, who had done good service to the Queen, and will, I hope, live to do so again. So about seven of the clock I beat the chamade, and obtained the capitulation of which I send your Lordship the copy.' In this capitulation the enemy had been willing to grant most honourable terms; and on these terms then did Stanhope and his gallant little army become prisoners of war. Their defence of Brihuega had cost them 600 men in killed and wounded, while that of the Spaniards was acknowledged by themselves as double, and may even have amounted to 1500, which was Stanhope's computation. (From the History of England, Chap. XIII.) Lord North's Resignation of Office. For some time past it had been manifest—and to none more clearly than to Lord North-that although the downfall of the Ministry might be a little delayed or a little quickened, it could not, at that juncture, be averted. With honest zeal he had been striving to reconcile the King's mind to this unavoidable necessity. On the 10th, at last, His Majesty agreed that the Chancellor should see Lord Rockingham, and learn from him on what terms he might be willing to construct another Ministry. Lord Rockingham's demands were found to be, that a Ministry should be formed on the basis of peace and economy, and that three Bills-namely, Sir Philip Clerke's on Contractors, Mr Burke's on Economical Reform, and Mr Crewe's on Revenue Officers-should be made Government measures. To the basis Thurlow offered no objection, but he would by no means consent to the three Bills. At last, in a final conference with Rockingham, the Chancellor broke off in much wrath, declaring (and with many an oath, no doubt) that he would have no further communication with a man who thought the exclusion of a contractor from Parliament, and the disfranchisement of an exciseman, of more importance than the salvation of the country at this crisis. 'Lord Rockingham,' added he, ‘is bringing things to a pass where either his head or the King's must go, in order to settle which of them is to govern the country!' Scarcely less ardent were, at one time, the feelings of the Sovereign himself. He contemplated with the utmost aversion his return to the oligarchy of the great Whig Houses. He had even some design of taking his departure for Hanover if the terms required of him should be altogether irreconcilable with his sense of right. Such a design had once before arisen in his mind in the midst of the Gordon riots. We now find a mysterious hint of it in his letters to Lord North; and it is certain, writes Horace Walpole, that for a fortnight together the Royal yacht was expediting and preparing for his voyage. What further steps His Majesty may have had in view -whether his recession was to be permanent or temporary whether he meant to leave the Queen as Regent or to take her and the Princes with him-can at present only be surmised. It appears, however, that by degrees the King became more reconciled to the present, or more hopeful of the future. Lord North being with him on the afternoon of the 20th, His Majesty acknowledged that, considering the temper of the Commons, he thought the administration at an end. Then, Sir,' said Lord North, ‘had I not better state the fact at once?'-' Well, you may do so,' replied the King. Eager to make use of this permission, Lord North hastened down to the House of Commons in Court dress. He rose to speak at the same moment with Lord Surrey, and neither would give way. Loud were the shouts and cries in that thronged House; the one party calling for Lord Surrey, and the other for Lord North. At length, to restore some order, Fox moved 'That the Earl of Surrey do first speak.' But immediately Lord North, with presence of mind mixed with pleasantry, started up again. I rise,' he said, 'to speak to that motion;' and, as his reason for opposing it, stated that he had resigned, and that the Ministry was no more. Next, in some farewell sentences, he proceeded, with excellent taste and temper, to thank the House for their kindness and indulgence, and he would add forbearance, during so many years. And finally, to leave time for his successors, he proposed and carried an adjournment of some days. There was on this occasion another slight but charac-` teristic incident which more than one eye-witness has recorded. It was a cold wintry evening, with a fall of snow. The other Members, in expectation of a long debate, had dismissed their carriages. Lord North, on the contrary, had kept his waiting. He put into it one or two of his friends, whom he invited to go home with him; and then, turning to the crowd chiefly composed of his bitter enemies, as they stood shivering and clustering near the door, he said to them with a placid smile, 'You see, gentlemen, the advantage of being in the secret. Good-night.'.'-'No man,' says Mr Adam of his speech and whole conduct that evening, 'ever showed more calmness, cheerfulness, and serenity. The temper of his whole family was the same. I dined with them that day, and was witness to it.' Thus ended Lord North's administration of twelve years. It is certainly strange, on contemplating these twelve years, to find so many harsh and rigorous measures proceed from the most gentle and good-humoured of Prime Ministers. Happy had but greater firmness in maintaining his own opinions been joined to so much ability in defending opinions even when not his own! (From the History of England, Chap. LXV.) Charles Swain (1801–74), a Manchester man, was originally a clerk in a dye-work, but after his thirtieth year became connected with a large engraving and lithographing business, of which he was ultimately the proprietor. He had begun to send poetry to the magazines, and in 1827 published Metrical Essays, the first of a series of volumes of poetry, including Rhymes for Childhood and Dramatic Chapters, Poems, and Songs; besides The Mind and other Poems (1832), which reached a sixth edition in 1873, and Songs and Ballads (his twelfth volume, 1867), which was in a fifth edition in 1877. A Life was prefixed to an edition of his poems-mostly marked by sweetness, grace, and melody-published in the United States in 1887, at which date a Civil List pension was conferred on him at home. Thomas Cooper (1805–92), the Chartist poet, who lived to be called the 'last of the Chartists' and to write Thoughts at Fourscore, was born at Leicester in 1805, and was apprenticed to a shoemaker at Gainsborough, where he became the friend of Thomas Miller (see below). Spite of hard labour and insufficient food (he often swooned when he tried to take his cup of oatmeal gruel at the end of the day's work), he would rise at three in the morning to teach himself Latin, Greek, Hebrew, and French; and he became a schoolmaster at twenty-three, and about the same time a local Methodist preacher. He found time for very wide and varied reading in history and English literature; and after reporting for some of the newspapers in the Midlands, he became leader of the Leicester Chartists in 1841, and was an active editor of tracts. He lectured in the Potteries during the riots in August 1842, was arrested on a charge of conspiracy and sedition, and sentenced to two years' imprisonment in Stafford jail. Here he wrote The Purgatory of Suicides, a poem in the Spenserian stanza, and Wise Saws and Modern Instances, a series of tales, which were both published in 1845. In prison he had become a pronounced sceptic, though he never taught 'blank atheism,' he says; and the reading of George Eliot's translation of the Leben Jesu made him for years a whole-hearted disciple of Strauss. In 1846 appeared his Baron's Yule Feast, a Christmas Rhyme, and a series of papers headed 'Condition of the People of England' in Douglas Jerrold's Newspaper. In 1848 he began to lecture on history and politics in London; set up the Plain Speaker and Cooper's Journal, two short-lived penny weeklies; and published two novels, Alderman Ralph (1853) and The Family Feud (1854). In 1855 a new religious life dawned for him he utterly recanted his sceptical views and doubts, became a zealous Christian, and joining the Baptists, was an effective and acceptable preacher. He was always an honest, if impulsive, thinker, and was latterly a sincere but old-fashioned Radical. In 1867 his friends purchased an annuity for him. He published his Autobiography in 1872; The Paradise of Martyrs, an unfinished poem, in 1873; and an edition of his Poetical Works in 1878; and in the last year of his life he got a Civil Service pension of £200. The Purgatory of Suicides, the chief occupation of his prison life, was also Cooper's most notable production. In the prison he was ultimately allowed to have his books, to read Gibbon through for the second time, to revel in Shakespeare and Milton, and to commit to memory, out of Chambers's Cyclopædia of English Literature, 'portions of almost every English poet of eminence.' Already in his reporter days he had 'conceived as in an instant an epic wherein the souls of suicidal kings and other remarkable personages should be interlocutors on some high theme or themes,' and had resolved on The Purgatory of Suicides as the title for it. It was primarily a vision of suicides, including all he could remember, but omitting, to his subsequent regret, Lord Clive and Uriel Acosta, whose history had specially impressed him, though in prison he had forgotten his name. Oppressed with the cruelties, baseness, horrors, shams, hypocrisies, and injustices of his own and past times-especially those which the poor suffer at the hands of the rich-the poet is driven to ask, 'Is life worth having?' and to sympathise with those who in despair have succumbed to fate by shortening their own lives. But the poem does not deal much with suicide; it is a 'mind-history,' and is largely an impeachment of oppression, a claim of human rights, a denunciation of priestcraft, bad government, Castlereagh, Union workhouses, and slavery black and white; and there are still pretty strong traces of his early scepticism, conscientiously permitted to stand by the author after reconversion, as being part of his actual history. Disraeli (Beaconsfield), Dickens, and Jerrold encouraged the convict-poet, and in the Purgatory Carlyle found 'indisputable traces of genius-a dark, Titanic energy struggling there for which we hope there will be clearer daylight by-and-by.' But the too-friendly critic not unwisely advised him to say what he had to say in prose: probably he too saw that the ten books of Spenserian stanzas were long and wearisome. There are touches of true sentiment in the 'prison rhyme,' much sound sense, not a little acute argument, and some bombastic rhetoric, but only a little poetry. Probably Cooper's best work was in some of his prose addressed to working-men. The first verses of one of Cooper's 'Chartist hymns,' 'sung to the noble air of the Old Hundredth,' ran as follows (somewhat like the corresponding work of the Corn-Law rhymer, page 231): God of the earth, and sea, and sky, Sadness and gloom pervade the land; From 'The Purgatory of Suicides.' From out that beaming look, to know what thoughts Like thee, loved bird, to breathe sweet Freedom's balmy air. Away!-for this is not a clime for thee Sweet childhood's sacred one! The hawthorns bend With ruddy fruitage: tiny troops, with glee Plundering the mellow wealth, a shout will send Aloft, if they behold their feathered friend, Loved Robin Redbreast,' mingle with their joy! Did they not watch thy tenderlings, and wend With eager steps, when school was o'er, a coy And wistful peep to take-lest some rude ruffian boy, With sacrilegious heart and hand, should rob Thy nest as heathenly as if 'Heaven's bird' Were not more sacred than the vulgar mob Of pies and crows? Flee-loved one!-thou hast heard This dissonance of bolts and bars that gird Old England's modern slaves, until thy sense Of freedom's music will be sepulchred. Hie where young hearts gush taintless joy intense, And, 'mid their rapture, pour thy heart's mellifluence ! Thomas Miller (1807-74) was the son of a Gainsborough wharfinger, who, during a visit to London in 1810, left his lodgings on the morning of the Burdett riots, and was never heard of again. The fatherless boy, having learnt at school 'to write a very indifferent hand, and to read the Testament tolerably,' was apprenticed to a basketmaker in his native town. While working at his trade in Nottingham he submitted his poems to Thomas Bailey, a journalist, whose son was the author of Festus; and Bailey encouraged Miller to publish Songs of the Sea Nymphs (1832). Shortly afterwards he removed to London, hoping to contribute to the magazines; but he had a weary wait for recognition, and had to earn his living by working at his old trade. Having one day sent to Lady Blessington some baskets containing verses, he was welcomed to her house. Often,' he wrote, 'have I been sitting in Lady Blessington's splendid drawing-room in the morning, and talking and laughing as familiarly as in the old house at home; and on the same evening I might have been seen on Westminster Bridge, between an apple-vendor and a baked-potato merchant selling my baskets.' About 1845 he was enabled, mainly through the assistance of Samuel Rogers, to start business as a bookseller and publisher in Newgate Street; but, failing to succeed, soon devoted himself entirely to writing. Ultimately he had produced not fewer than forty-five volumes, including several works of fiction, in which country characters and scenes are drawn with skill. His best-known novel is Royston Gower, or the Days of King John (1838); another tale is Gideon Giles the Roper. A volume of Rural Sketches was largely circulated, as were most of his books dealing with the country. He contributed leading articles to the London daily papers, reviews to the Athenæum, and much miscellaneous prose and poetry to the periodicals, but died in poverty. James Ballantine (1808–77), author of 'Ilka blade o' grass keps its ain drap o' dew' and other Scotch songs, was born in Edinburgh and trained as a house-painter; but having studied drawing and painting, became conspicuous as a reviver of the art of glass-painting. Some of his best-known songs and ballads are to be found in two prose volumes, The Gaberlunzie's Wallet (1843) and The Miller of Deanhaugh (1845). William Harrison Ainsworth (1805-82), the son of a wealthy Manchester solicitor, was educated at the grammar school and articled to a solicitor, and, on his father's death in 1824, went up to London to finish his legal studies; but two years later he married a publisher's daughter, and He himself turned publisher for eighteen months. had written some magazine articles prior to 1823, so that his first-born was not Sir John Chiverton (1826), an anonymous novel bepraised by Scott (partly, it seems, the work of John Partington Aston). His earliest hit was Rookwood (1834), |