are his endeavors to strengthen the effi dress the working man to-night are not going to approach him as if he were a horse at all; they are going to speak to him as a man." As I have said, his outspokenness sometimes got for him hard words. Thus, he angered the Leicestershire Nonconformists not very long after the Congress by saying that the Liberation Society would evidently prefer a gin-shop to a Church. And the mayor who had welcomed him to Leicester at the Congress signified his displeasure by sending £50 to the Liberation Society. But in the long run nobody ever got on better with the Nonconformists than the bishop. Witness their affectionate farewell to him. A whole volume could be filled with witty sayings of his which came in pat to the purpose when wisdom was wanted to shut up some mischievous speaker or correspondent. The bishop was generally happy when such persons tried to "draw him. Thus a foolish man in Torquay, who was angry with the Burials Bill, got up a memorial and sent it to the bishops requesting to know what they were going to do and proposing to publish their replies. Bishop Magee, after objecting to being publicly catechized by a man that he had nothing to do with, went on gravely to say: In this as in every other matter concerning the interests of the Church and of religion in this country in which it may be my duty to act, I propose to take such steps as after careful consideration may appear right and wise to take." The gentleman would hardly have kept his word as to publication, but the bishop published it himself. Another foolish fellow was good enough to tell him that he highly approved some views the bishop had expressed in his sermons at Bath about the ordination service, and wished him to explain how they could be reconciled with the views of Dr. Pusey. The bishop in reply referred him to the sermon, and begged him to try to understand it for himself. "Whether you find my statements satisfactory or the reverse or whether they can be reconciled with certain statements made by Dr. Pusey or by any other person, are ques tions on which you are, I presume, capable of forming your own judgment." "When I hear men producing their little scraps of compliments to the working men in the same way as a cunning trader produces little bits of cloth and glass beads when he goes among a set of savages, I don't quite believe in it. When I hear persons trying to pet and coax working men, they remind me of the very timid groom who goes into the stall of a very spirited horse that he is afraid is rather vicious; he goes up to him timidly" and tries to pat him here, and stroke him there, and all the while he has his eyes between the horse's ears to see if he turns them back; to see if he is going to be, as the Irishman said of his horse, very handy with his hoofs. I will tell you why he does so. It is, first, because the man is a coward; secondly, because he don't know his business as a groom; and thirdly, because he don't know the nature of the animal he has to do with. Then there is another class of men who proceed in another way. I have seen them go to the working man as if he were a horse in a field. I dare say you have seen a groom go up to the horse with a sieve full of oats in his left hand while behind him he has a bit and a bridle in the other. Now there are men who come to the working classes with great promises of the oats they are going to feed them with, which, by the way, are not their own oats but their neighbor's, and if the noble quadruped had a few of the grains of sense that are scattered about, he would sniff the bridle and the bit, and say - I would rather not have the oats. Then, occasionally, you see a stout man approach the horse with a heavy whip, but he never gets near him-hasn't a chance. Those who are about to ad Presiding on the 17th of May, 1879, at the festival of the Artists' Benevolent Institution, he made two of his happiest after-dinner speeches. Here is a delicious paragraph from one of them: "It is some years since I carried off from the walls of your Academy, in a moment of impulsive self-gratification - for which I received a domestic rebuke - what seemed to me a to be hoped they will be collected, and —an umbrella." Another patronage story which perhaps straitlaced people will think requires a little kindly allowance-and surely it needs only a very little-is the following. A layman solicited the bishop on behalf of the curate of his parish, and after pleading his cause, got the bishop's prom. ise to give the curate the vacant living. The delighted squire exclaimed, "Many thanks, your lordship, and I can tell you that you will find him a regular trump card." The bishop was rather surprised, and perhaps nettled at the unseemly metaphor, but said nothing. But a little later, Not less felicitous was a speech which he made on the day of the consecration of St. Mary's, Edinburgh (October 30th, 1879). He had preached one of his finest sermons in the morning, and at the dinner which followed, gave equal delight to his audience. Scotchmen, as everybody knows, are specially proud of a brother Scot who has distinguished himself out-after the new incumbent had taken posside their native land, and they can also session, he met the squire again, who reenjoy a gentle joke against themselves for peated his small jest, "Well, my lord, I a small weakness of which they are not told you that Mr. would turn up a unconscious namely, the inclination to good trump." This was too much for the discover some trace of Scotch blood in bishop's forbearance, who replied, "Well, celebrated people. The bishop found his sir, in the short time that he has been opportunity of humoring them, when Lord there he has managed to show his hand a Mar gave as a toast "The Churches of great deal too much, and he has played England, Ireland, America, and the colo- the deuce." Walking with Bishop Atlay nies." The bishop in responding said, at Hereford, whereas every one who has that in selecting him to reply to the toast, been there knows the beautiful river Wye there was certainly one point in favor of washes the episcopal grounds, the latter the selection. They had chosen to speak said, "Well, we think our cathedral very to this composite toast of theirs one who interesting, but it is not nearly so grand occupied an English see but was an Irish- as yours.' "I think," was the reply, man, and who had the honor and happiness"that you may consider your flowing river of having some Scotch blood in his veins. (pointing to it) better than my Dead See." He remembered some years ago when the This name had got affixed to the diocese eminent Scotchman who now occupies so of Peterborough during Bishop Davys's worthily the chair of Canterbury (loud tenancy. cheers) heard from him a sermon which his Grace was kind enough to think of in a favorable manner, the archbishop expressed his approval with his usual graceful humor. He asked him when he came out of the cathedral, "Bishop, was not your mother a Scotchwoman ?" He answered, "No, your Grace, she wasn't; but I believe her grandmother was." (Great laughter.) Archbishop Magee's bon mots were almost as many as Sydney Smith's. It is Here is a story which I heard him tell. Some members of his congregation—I think at Enniskillen, but am not sure about that- came to him when he was leaving his incumbency, to bid him farewell. "And we can assure you, sir," they said, "that we have profited so much by your ministry, and feel that it has done us so much good, that we have resolved that afther ye've gone and left us, we'll none of us ever go to church any more." The bishop was well up in his Dickens, which hooted and hustled him at the service. He boldly invited the people to a special service at the parish church. It was crowded, and he addressed them in a manner, marvellous even to read of. The hearing carried all before it, and no man from that day was more popular there. and very frequently went to him for illus- | posters which were stuck all over the town trations. Thus he came into Lambeth on the occasion of his coming to consecrate Library one day, where he was engaged a cemetery, and which resulted in a mob to speak at some meeting, and said, with comical weariness of manner, "I feel like Mantalini, whose life was one horrid grind; my life nowadays is one horrid speech." When he was denouncing Lord Shaftesbury's bill, he quoted Squeers, who expressed the great pleasure he had found in thrashing Smike in a hackney coach "there was such a relish in it.' This, said the bishop, is exactly what the aggrieved parishioners will do. There will be no real good to be got by their bullying poor, hardworking clergy, but it will be a novelty, and therefore they will find a relish in it. And to him has been attributed another humorous application out of the same volume, which found its way into a Church newspaper. Bishop Claughton, Archdeacon of London, held a visitation to which nobody came. The good bishop was naturally annoyed, and expressed his opinion that some means ought to be used to compel them to obey the archidiaconal summons. Thereupon Mr. Squeers was quoted for an illustration. "Bishop Claughton is of Mr. Squeers's opinion that the world is chockfull of wisitations, and if a boy repines at a wisitation, he must have his head punched." Preaching at the Chapel Royal, Dublin, on the parable of the Pharisee and Publican, at the time when the disestablishment of the Irish Church was imminent, the bishop applied the parable thus: "The spirit of pharisaism wears different garbs, and speaks in different tones in different ages. The original Pharisee said, 'I fast twice in the week; I give tithes of all I possess.' The modern Pharisee says: I don't fast; don't see the use of it, and don't pay my tithes.' No, to do you justice, you don't." But I must close these reminiscences. I met the bishop often, but many who read these pages will have known him far bet ter than I did. Yet on their behalf, and as one that read his speeches with delight, and was privileged to hear many of his utterances, both witty and wise, I lay this humble wreath on the grave of one whom the Church of England in years to come will reckon among her true and faithfu! sons, a delightful, unselfish, generous man, and withal a great prelate and father in God. W. BENHAM. From Temple Bar. THE MARRIAGE OF FRANCES CROMWELL. 1. THESE are to certifie whom it may concerne that (according to a late Act of Parliament entytuled "An Act touching marriages and the registring thereof, etc.") publication was made in the publique meeting-place in the parish church of the parish of Martin's in the Fields in the county of Middlesex, upon three several Lord's days, at the close of the morning exercise (namely upon the xxv day of October MDCLVII, as alsoe upon the i and viii days of November following), of a marriage agreed upon between the honourable Robert Rich, of Andrewes, Holborne, and the right honourable the Lady Frances Cromwell of Martin's in the Fields in the county of Middlesex. All which was fully performed according to the said Act without exception. 2. In witness whereof I have hereunto set my hand this ix day of November MDCLVII. WILLIAM WILLIAMS. Register of the parish of Martin's in the Fields.* November 11. — This day the most illus trious lady the Lady Frances Cromwell, youngest daughter of His Highness the Lord Protector, was married to the most noble gentleman Mr. Robert Rich, son of the Lord But I must repeat emphatically what I have already said: it would be a false picture of Magee to represent him as preeminently a joker. He could not, indeed, help answering a fool according to his folly. But some of his best speeches breathe a fervent piety which cannot be mistaken. I might quote at large from his published sermons, but content myself with referring to three speeches, one delivered at the Rich, grandchild of the Earl of Warwick, and of the Countess Dowager of Devonshire, in Church Congress at Bath on the subject the presence of their Highnesses and of his of Sunday Schools (Guardian for 1873, grandfather and father and the said Countess, p. 1364), one on the Central African Mis- with many other persons of high honor and sion (Feb. 1875) and one at Wellingbor-quality. The solemnities of the happy nupough in May, 1874. The first two are full tials were continued and ended with much of the eloquence of deep and tender pahonor. thos. The last was called forth by ribald Peck's Desiderata Curiosa, No. xiii., p. 500. more than anything else." Three months later he reported: ""Tis verily thought that the match between your sister and Mr. Rich is upon the point concluded on."* Still there was a delay of nearly five months, for, as we have seen, it was not till the end of October that the banns were first published in church.t THE "happy nuptials," of which the above are respectively the last preliminary and the official record in Mercurius Politicus, the gazette of the period, had not been finally concluded without much difficulty. For the course of true love in this case had certainly not run smooth. "Robin Rich's" courtship of the Lady Frances had lasted nearly two years, but it had had many obstacles to overcome. We need not pay too much attention to the stories which would make the exiled Charles II. or the Duc d'Enghien suitors whose eligibility was gravely discussed; still less need we regard too seriously the curious story of Jerry White the chaplain. But a voice from the grave seemed to increased to £2,500 on the death of the terpose between the lovers. John Dutton, a wealthy Gloucestershire squire, left his nephew William to the guardianship and disposition of his Highness the Lord Protector, and not content with this, humbly requested That His Highness will be pleased in order to my former desires and according the discourse that hath passed betwixt us thereupon, that when he shall come to ripeness of age, a marriage may be had and solemnized betwixt my said nephew William Dutton and the Lady Frances Cromwell, His Highness's youngest daughter, which I much desire, and (if it take effect) shall account it as a blessing from God. A paper preserved in Thurloe gives the proposals for settlement made by the Earl of Warwick on behalf of his grandson. The Warwick estates, including Warwick House, were to be settled upon trusts giving Robert Rich and Lady Frances £2,000 a year during the lives of the bridegroom's father and grandfather, to be in earl, and £3,050 if Lord Rich should die in the earl's lifetime. Frances, if she survived her husband, was to have a jointure of £2,000 a year, and Warwick House after the death of the earl and countess. All the town was now talking of the great wedding. The third publication of the banns was on Sunday the 8th of November, and the ceremony took place on the following Wednesday the eleventh. A more gossiping account than the official record of Mercurius Politicus opens for us a window into Whitehall: On Wednesday last was my Lord Protector's daughter married to the Earl of Warwick's grandson. Mr. Scobell, as a justice But my Lady Frances would have none of Mr. Dutton. His uncle's will, dated of the peace, tyed the knot after a godly prayer made by one of His Highness's divines: early in 1655, did not come to be proved and on Thursday was the wedding feast kept until the middle of 1657, and a year beat Whitehall, where they had 48 violins and fore that she and "Robin Rich" were "so far engaged that the match cannot be broke off." Apart from Mr. Dutton, however, there were other troubles. Troubles about the marriage settlements, which it seems, from Mary Cromwell's correspondence with her brother Henry, only covered a deeper objection, rumors prejudicial to the suitor's private character having come to the protector's ears. The reports were false, and Frances having satisfied herself of the fact, got her sister Mary and some other friends to speak to her father in her lover's favor, and he promised that, if the reports proved without foundation, the difficulties about the settlements should not prevent the match. Still the negotiations dragged on slowly. Nine months after Mary's intercession, Sir Francis Russell wrote to Henry Cromwell, his son-in-law, that there was "trouble about the business of Mr. Rich and my Lady Frances," which seemed "to trouble the minds both of your father and mother 50 trumpets and much mirth with frolics, besides mixt dancing (a thing heretofore accounted profane) till 5 of the clock yesterday morning. Amongst the dancers there was the Earl of Newport, who danced with Her the Countess of Devonshire (grandmother to Highness. There was at this great solemnity the bridegroom), who presented the bride with £2,000 worth of plate.‡ The Countess of Devonshire is one of the most interesting figures among the wedding guests. She was an unwonted visitor at the protector's court, and it must have seemed strange to her to remember under what circumstances she was last at • Lansdowne MSS., Brit. Mus., 823. ↑ The delay may have been in part due to political causes. We read in a letter (March 28, 1657) apparently addressed to Paris, and which alludes to the recent debates as to Cromwell assuming the title of king There was likely to have been a match between the Earl of Warwick's grandchild and the protector's daughter, but this new dignity has altered it. It is reported that a match may be found in your parts." (Calendar State Papers-Domestic, 1656-7.) MSS. Hist. MSS. Commission, 5th Report. Trentham He Whitehall. The blood of the Stuarts and | of good reputation, but his grandfather, the Bruces flowed in her veins. She was Lord Warwick, was a brave and worthy the daughter of that Lord Bruce of Kin- man. loss, whose monument we may see in the Robert Rich, second Earl of Warwick, Rolls Chapel in Chancery Lane, and who was a man of sixty-nine or seventy. did much to further James I.'s accession had been lord high admiral for the Parliato the English crown. She had been mar- ment in the Civil War, and was Cromwell's ried, at the instance of the king, to Lord staunch friend of long standing. Of a free, William Cavendish, afterwards Earl of generous mode of living, he possessed a Devonshire, and with him had lived in wide popularity, and Calamy, in his funeral boundless magnificence and in close con- sermon, said of him that he was the best nection with and attendance on the court | natured man in England. We do not know of both James and Charles. Left a widow if his countess was present with him at the with three young children, with estates wedding. He was at this time married to burdened with debts and law-suits, she his third wife, Ellinor Wortley, widow of was yet able, by force of character, rigid the Earl of Sussex. economy, and wise management, to hand over the Devonshire estates to her son on his majority cleared from all the incumbrances which had threatened to swamp them in ruin, besides providing her children with the highest education and culture of the time. She had lost her second son, Colonel Charles Cavendish, "the young, the lovely, and the brave" of Waller's epitaph, by the sword of Cromwell's lieutenant at Gainsborough fight. She had been engaged ever since the breaking out of the Civil War in planning and intriguing first for the success of Charles I. and afterwards for the Restoration. It is even said that a warrant had at one time been issued for her arrest, but that a bribe to a member of the Council of State had saved her from its actual execution. At this very time she was carrying on cypher correspondence by her chaplain with members of the party of Charles II. While the negotiations for the marriage were still in progress, the countess had been invited by the protector to Hampton Court. Walking in her garden one day, she took counsel with Robert Frampton, afterwards Bishop of Gloucester, then chaplain to her brother Lord Elgin, on the subject, who, after recounting "all that traytor's villainy," advised her "with such an one, no not to eat." The countess took her own course, however, and went to Hampton Court. She could not but be deeply interested in the match, for the bridegroom was the only child of her only daughter, the beautiful Anne Cavendish, Lady Rich, who had died nearly twenty years before, when her boy was two years old. Robert Rich, now only twenty-two, had been committed by his dying mother to the care of Dr. Gauden, afterwards Bishop of Worcester, and, according to his tutor's account, had grown up a studious and thoughtful youth full of promise. His father, Lord Rich, was not a person Mountjoy Blount, Earl of Newport, who trod a measure with the lady protectress, was a less popular and less reliable man. He had been a Royalist, but not without suspicion of half-heartedness, or worse. Two years previously, on the other hand, he had been committed to the Tower by Cromwell on suspicion of treason. It is not without interest to remember that he and Lord Warwick were both_sons, by different fathers, of Penelope Devereux, the "Stella" of Sir Philip Sidney. But we must not forget the bride and her kinsfolk. Frances Cromwell wanted only a few days to complete her nineteenth year. Of the four sisters, she is the one whose face we are the least able to picture in the bloom of her youth. The portraits of her in later life give little sign of the personal beauty of which several writers speak. Of her brothers and sisters, Fleetwood and Bridget were doubtless there from Wallingford House close by, possibly Richard, certainly Elizabeth Claypole, the princess royal of the protectoral court. From the various portraits of Elizabeth which exist, we can form a pretty accurate idea of her appearance at this time. Hers is a face about which there must always have been a peculiar charm. The youthful beauty and almost arch grace which characterize the charming portrait of her attributed to Robert Walker, had faded now into the sweet gravity and tenderness which we see in Cooper's miniature, and delicate health had given her that matronly air which strikes one at first as denoting a more advanced age than seven or eight and twenty. Her children were growing up round her, and the lines in which Andrew Marvell has left a picture of the mutual love of the protector, his daughter, and her children, are doubtless a transcript of what he saw every day in his attendance at Whitehall. Mary and Frances were almost of an |