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feeling the animals may possess, if by | conviction. I shall not be the least this phrase is meant no more than mere ashamed of myself if I change this pleasure at the sight of certain objects; | view before the close of the present the aesthetics of judgment is beyond year. And the distinction between inthem. telligence and reason will remain preAnd so once more, with the third cisely the same if animals are proved member of the great triad or trinity - to be rational beings the day after tothat rich chord to the ear of reason, the morrow. For the distinction holds distinguishable but inseparable notes good between human intelligence and of which are right, beauty, and truth. human reason, just as much as between As the animal has, in my view, no animal intelligence and the possible power of judging actions in relation to reason of animals. It is no line of dia standard of right, no power of ap-vision which separates animals from praising objects in relation to a stand-men; but a distinction between facard of beauty, so also it has, I conceive,ulties, one of which, at least (and no power of gauging its perceptions perhaps both, though this I doubt), is and conceptions in relation to a stand- common to animals and men. ard of truth. For truth is a matter of intellectual knowledge, and such knowledge the brutes have not. It lies beyond the limits of animal intelligence.

C. LLOYD MORGAN.

From The Church Quarterly Review.
DOROTHY SIDNEY.1

I have now, so far as is possible without entering into technical details, illustrated the distinction between inTHERE is a perennial charm contelligence and reason. Intelligence is nected with the family of Sidney. the faculty by which, through expe- Those who know least of English hisrience and association, activities are tory and literature know and honor the adapted to, or, more strictly, moulded name of Sir Philip Sidney, and have by, new circumstances; while reason some dim respect for that of Algernon. is the faculty which has its inception The name of Sidney stands for all that in the true grasping of relationships is most honorable and chivalrous in the as such. Intelligence is ever on the idea of an English gentleman, and is watch for fortunate variations of activ-associated forever with two self-sacriity and happy hits of motor response; ficing deaths; for if the death on the it feels that they are suitable, though it scaffold on Tower Hill was less glorious knows not how and why, and controls than that on the field of Zutphen, it future activities in their direction. It was at least a death of sacrifice for proceeds by trial and error, and selects an ideal, mistaken, indeed, but pure. the successes from among the failures. And those who know in fuller detail Reason explains the suitability; it the history of the century which begins shows wherein lies the success or the with Philip and ends with Algernon, error, and adapts conduct through a know that other members of the house clear perception of the relationships of Sidney were contributing their share involved. Individual experience, asso-to the honorable record of their family. ciation, and imitation are the main fac- Sir Henry Sidney, lord-deputy of Iretors of intelligence; explanation and land, held that supremely difficult post intentional adaptation are the goal of

reason.

for thirteen years, with honor to himself and advantage to the people whom he governed. Robert Sidney, Lord Leicester, grandson of Sir Henry, nephew of Sir Philip, father of Dor

Incidentally I have expressed my opinion that, in the activities of the higher animals, marvellously intelligent as they often are, there is no evidence of that true perception of relations which is essential to reason is merely an opinion, and a settled i

barissa: Some Account of Dorothy Sidney,

BUNIVERts of Sunderland, her Family and Friends,

1617-1684. By Julia Cartwright (Mrs. Henry Ady).

LIBRARY
OF GEORGIA

othy and Algernon, served Charles I. | No new light is thrown by her biogas ambassador in Paris from 1636 to raphy on the history either of Charles 1641, and all that we hear of him leaves I. or of Charles II., and the graver stubehind a high opinion of the charm dent may safely pass it by. But those and rectitude of his character, if not of who like at times to step back from the the strength of his abilities. Neither bustle of our own day and the familiar Sir Henry nor Lord Leicester was well accents of our contemporary literature requited by the sovereign whom he to the contemplation of other days and served, and, indeed, the Sidney family other manners, may well spend a few throughout the century owed little to hours in turning over the pages of the favor of the crown. History has, this book. We cannot, indeed, restore however, made amends. It records the atmosphere of the seventeenth many names more splendid, more con- century as we can the days of "The spicuous for strength and for great Tatler" and "The Spectator," or of achievements, but none more stainless. Wraxall and Hervey and Walpole; but And literature too is in their debt, for we know the leading men and women though neither Sir Philip Sidney nor of the reigns of Charles I. and Charles Edmund Waller are in the front rank II. only less well than we know those of English writers, yet to have written of Queen Anne and the Georges, and Astrophel and Stella" and to have their company is sometimes brighter inspired the songs to Sacharissa, are and pleasanter. In the company of not the least among the honors of the Dorothy Sidney one may well be conhouse of Sidney. tent to linger for a little while.

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The distinction just mentioned belongs to the lady whose name stands at the head of this article, and who is the subject of a very readable and pleasant biography by Mrs. Ady, more familiarly known to many readers as Miss Julia Cartwright. Dorothy Sidney does, indeed, only form a centre for a picture of the Sidney family during the sevenand-sixty years of her life; but although not much is known of her, and but few of her letters remain, yet there is enough to show this central figure to be one of unusual grace and charm, a lady distinguished in her youth as the reigning beauty of the age, in her maturer years as the mother of Sunderland, the mother-in-law and intimate correspondent of Halifax, and throughout her life as one who was both lovable and loved, who had friends and admirers, and few enemies. To read her life is to surrender oneself to the contemplation of the culture of the seventeenth century in its best aspect, the culture which is reflected in George Herbert and Lovelace and Waller, and it is only from such a point of view that it is worth while to read it at all. Lady Sunderland was very near the political movements of that troubled time, but she was not of them.

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And Sir Philip is unquestionably think-
ing of Penshurst when he describes the
house in his "Arcadia," "built of fair
and strong stone, not affecting so much
any extraordinary kind of fineness, as
an honorable representing of a firm
stateliness. 192 The Sidneys were, as
Jonson indicates at the end of his
poem, a home-loving family, and at
Penshurst Dorothy Sidney passed the
greater part of her girlhood. She was

1 Quoted by Mrs. Ady, Sacharissa, p. 20.
* Ibid., p. 19.

Thi

born in October, 1617, the eldest daugh- Of Dorothy we hear little until she ter of Robert Sidney, then Lord Lisle, and Lady Dorothy Percy, daughter of the Earl of Northumberland. Of these parents one receives a very pleasant impression. Of Lord Leicester, as Dorothy's father became in 1626, Clarendon says that he was

had reached the age of seventeen, when suitors, or at least admirers, began to make their appearance. Her beauty and the charm of her manner cannot have been merely imaginary, when they inspired a writer in "The Tatler," seventy years afterwards, to

a man of great parts, very conversant in compare her thus with the reigning books, and much addicted to the mathe-beauties of that day. matics, and though he had been a soldier, The fine women they show me nowadays and was afterwards employed in several embassies, as in Denmark and in France, was in truth rather a speculative than a practical man. He was a man of honor and fidelity to the king, and his greatest misfortunes proceeded from the staggering and irresolution of his nature.

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His letters show both good sense and good feeling. He was not of the stuff out of which leaders are made in a time of revolution, but he was thoroughly loyal, and served his sovereign often at his own expense (which he could ill afford) and in spite of very scant acknowledgment of his services. He had a worthy partner in his wife, as loyal and as zealous as himself, and devoted to the interests both of her husband and of her children. Many of her letters to the former during his embassy in Paris are preserved, and prove her to have been a good correspondent and a good wife. The following end of one of them is charming:

Mr. Seladine comes in with your letter, whom I am engaged to entertain a little besides, it is supper time, or else I should bestow one side of this paper in making love to you! and since I may with modesty express it, I will say that if it be love to think on you sleeping and waking, to discourse of nothing with pleasure but what concerns you, to wish myself every hour with you, and to pray for you with as much devotion as for mine own soul; then certainly it may be said that I am in love; and this is all that you shall at this time hear

from your

are at best but pretty girls to me, who have seen "Sacharissa," when all the world repeated the poems she inspired; and “ Vilaria" when a youthful king was her subject. The things you follow and make songs on now should be sent to knit or sit down to bobbins or bone-lace. They are indeed neat, and so are their sempstresses; they are pretty and so are their handmaids. But that graceful motion, that awful mien, and that winning attraction, which grew upon 'em from the thoughts and conversations

they met with in my time, are now no more seen. They tell me I am old; I am glad I am so; for I don't like your present young ladies.2

It was indeed as "Sacharissa" that

Dorothy Sidney achieved most fame; for under that name she was sung by Mr. Edmund Waller, then a brilliant young widower of twenty-nine. It is worth while to turn to Waller's works and read the score or so of songs in which he celebrated his flame, if only on account of the position which he holds in the history of English verse. In his use of the heroic couplet, in his conventional diction and imagery, he is the first of the precursors of Pope, while in his conceits and gallantries he is the contemporary of Herrick and Cowley. It is hardly credible that the following lines can have been composed when Charles I. was king, and Webster and Shirley had scarcely ceased to write :

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Thyrsis, a youth of the inspired train, Fair Sacharissa lov'd, but lov'd in vain : Kiss my boy [Algernon] for me, who sent | Like Phoebus sung the no less am'rous

D. LEYCESTER.

me a very prettie French letter.1

Clearly twenty years of married life had not proved love a failure.

1 Sacharissa, p. 54.

boy;

Like Daphne she, as lovely, and as coy !

Tatler, No. 61; partly quoted on Mrs. Ady's title-page.

3 Waller, Phoebus and Daphne.

In metrical smoothness Waller cer- | Chloris or Flavia, or some other of the tainly made a considerable advance ladies who inspired his susceptible upon his predecessors, and a few of heart, and could with some justice dehis poems still deserve reading. The clare that by the success of his poems author of the stately lines on "the the muse had more than compensated soul's dark cottage, battered and de- him for his failure in his courtship of cayed," which conclude his "Divine Venus. Poems," was not without considerable merit; but they are too remote from Tho' unsuccessful, was not sung in vain; Yet what he sung in his immortal strain, the present subject, and also too gener- All but the nymph who should redress his ally known, to be quoted here. It is better to give a poem which, although the name of Sacharissa does not occur in it, was probably addressed to

her:

That which her slender waist confin'd
Shall now my joyful temples bind;
No monarch but would give his crown,
His arms might do what this has done.

wrong

Attend his passion, and approve his song. Like Phoebus thus, acquiring unsought praise,

He catch'd at love, and fill'd his arms with bays.2

The five years 1634 to 1639 represent the period of Dorothy Sidney's career as the reigning unmarried beauty of It was my heav'n's extremest sphere, the day, a beauty not less charming The pale that held that lovely deer; because not much exposed to the glare My joy, my grief, my hope, my love, and excitements of town. During this Did all within this circle move! time Lady Leicester's correspondence A narrow compass! and yet there with her husband is naturally much Dwelt all that's good, and all that's fair. occupied with the question of their Give me but what this ribband bound, daughter's marriage and the eligibility Take all the rest the sun goes round.1 of the various suitors who present It was about 1634 that Waller com- themselves. At one time it appeared menced his adoration of Lady Dorothy likely that she would be married to the Sidney, and for some four years she young Lord Devonshire, whose sister seems to have had the honor of being had been one of her most intimate his principal flame. But at no time can friends. Proposals were made by Lord there have been any question of his Devonshire's family, and Lady Leicessuit being successful. He came of a ter was willing, and more than willing, good county family, it is true, but Lady to accept them. Negotiations were Leicester looked much higher for a continued for some time, but without husband for her daughter, and there is effect. At one time Lady Leicester not the slightest reason to suppose that believed that the young man's parents Dorothy herself ever regarded him with were secretly trying to bring off a favor. His verses might be graceful, match with a great French heiress; at and his compliments were unquestion-another that her own sister, Lady Carably well turned, but his character was lisle, was seeking to frustrate her plans. not above reproach, and the ardor of Dorothy's own views on the matter, his devotion might be suspected of being of minor importance, are not being at least as much ornamental as recorded. But the real obstacle seems real. His heart was in no danger of to have come from the young man breaking when his suit was rejected, and the occasion of his goddess's wedding to another man gave him an opportunity, which he was careful not to miss, of writing an elegant and witty epistle to her sister. He could then betake himself to Amoret or Phyllis or

1 Waller, On a Girdle.

himself, who was in no hurry to get married; and, on discovering the backwardness of the selected swain, Lady Leicester not unnaturally withdrew from her position. Other suitors were forthcoming in plenty. Lord Russell was spoken of at one time, but the idea

• Phœbus and Daphne.

E

went no further. A more serious can- |ment had been shown to him. His didate was Lord Lovelace, whose suit moderation may have caused some to was warmly pressed by Lady Leicester's doubt his loyalty, and the doubt would brother, Henry Percy, and in this case be intensified by the conduct of his there was no doubt of the good-will of son-in-law, since Lord Spencer was one the suitor himself. His worldly posi- of the peers who were on the side of tion, moreover, was unexceptionable. liberty, and was regarded by the ParUnfortunately, however, for the success liamentary leaders as one of their of the scheme, his character was very supporters. Like Falkland and Hyde, much_the_reverse; and when he ap- however, Lord Spencer was driven to peared at Penshurst in the character of the king's side by the violence of the a suitor, it is evident that both Lady Parliament's attacks, and when the Dorothy herself and her mother took a final rupture came he drew his sword strong dislike to his manners. Henry with the Royalists. Percy urged in vain, and the plan, after some expenditure of temper, fell to the ground before the opposition of the two ladies.

With the outbreak of war peace departed from the house of Sidney too. While Dorothy's father stood for the king, her uncle, Lord Northumberland, and her brothers, Philip and Algernon, were for the Parliament; and her husband, though with the royal army, was one of those whose hearts were least in the struggle, and who longed most earnestly for peace. Five letters written by him to his wife during the war have been preserved, and give us our only means of becoming acquainted with his character, apart from the brief but

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The name of Lord Devonshire was again mooted by friends of the family, but without result, and in the course of 1639 the right man presented himself in the person of Henry Lord Spencer (afterwards Lord Sunderland), of the great family of the Spencers of Althorp. He was younger than Dorothy, being barely nineteen, but his character was stainless, his birth and position beyond cavil, and this time there was no holding back on the part favorable notice of Clarendon. He of the intended bride. To him Dorothy | writes mostly of the aspect of public Sidney was married in June, 1639, and affairs, and does not disguise his sickanother chapter of her life is opened. ness of heart. "How much I am unSo far the life of Sacharissa had been satisfied with the proceedings here I undisturbed, or disturbed only in the have at large expressed in several letsmallest degree, by the state of public ters. If there could be any expeaffairs; but the date of her wedding dient found to save the punctilio of may serve to remind one of the storm honor I would not continue here an which was then impending, and which hour. The discontent that I, and many was destined to involve in its destruc- other honest men, receive daily is betion the fortunes of the newly mar-yond expression."1 "If the king's, or ried couple. In 1640 the Scots crossed rather the queen's, party prevail, we are in sad condition, for they will be insupportable to all, but most to us who have opposed them; so that if the king prevails by force I must not live at home, which is grievous to me, but more to you." 2 These fears did not prevent his doing his duty manfully at Edgehill, where he charged with the King's Guards. Part of the following winter he was able to spend with his wife at Penshurst, but when he left her in the spring of 1643, he left her

the frontier, and in November of the same year the Long Parliament held its first sitting. In May of the following year Strafford was executed, and Lord Leicester, on Strafford's own recommendation, as it is said, was recalled from France to succeed him as lordlieutenant of Ireland. He was not, however, allowed to depart to take up his duties, but was retained in the Deighborhood of the king's person, where the moderation, if not the irresolation, of his counsels caused him soon to lose the royal favor which for a mo

1 Sacharissa, p. 88.
2 Ibid., p. 89.

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