the English nation. The spirit of Clarendon's History, if not Gauden's work, both rather resembling that of Shakespeare in devotion to monarchy, now completely prevailed. Its triumph, in some respects, was almost absurdly illustrated in the triumphant entrance into London of a profligate prince, who had never benefited England in any way, while the remains of its late sagacious and, in many respects, patriotic ruler were exposed to the most scandalous insult.

This disgraceful act, like the more cruel one of executing some old regicides, can hardly be considered chiefly the work of a London mob. There seems reason to believe from the uncensured, if not approving, publicity of these deeds, that they were sanctioned by public opinion generally, though doubtless secretly deplored by some private individuals. But restoration of monarchy, though represented by a worthless king, was decidedly supported by the British public mind.

Clarendon's History, and even Gauden's alleged work, comparing Charles I.'s execution to Christ's crucifixion, evidently to some extent represented the feelings of the English nation generally, but especially of the London population. As Westminster Abbey, St. Paul's, and the royal palace were associated with kings, queens, princes and princesses, again might Shakespeare have described the same loyal enthusiasm in London streets which he introduces with evident pleasure at the close of "Henry VIII."

But his sublime genius was now unworthily replaced in popularity by the sarcastic, quaint, witty Samuel Butler (1612-1680). In his poem of "Hudibras," naturally a favourite with Charles II. and his profligate Court, the fallen Independents and their Puritan allies were abused with bitter, even fierce, ridicule. All their faults were mercilessly exposed and exaggerated, while, in the usual spirit of an unscrupulous religious or political opponent, everything that could be said in their favour was purposely ignored.

Meantime Milton, though spared from public prosecution, lived in retirement, deploring the utter failure of his political ideas and efforts for England. In bitter, morose dejection, he now wrote those sublime poems "Paradise Lost and "Paradise Regained," which forced from all sections of his fellow-countrymen the highest admiration. Yet in the former he cannot resist lamenting with evident bitterness having "fallen on evil days, by evil tongues surrounded." He mentions hear

ing "the barbarous dissonance of Bacchus and his revellers," doubtless meaning some tipsy London royalists singing loyal songs with more zeal than harmony.

These rejoicings, judging from every sign of probability in Shakespeare's plays, would have had that poet's cordial approval, even despite their occasional intemperance. The gay Lucios, Cassios, Gratianos, &c., whom he describes with evident liking, much resembled, probably, the English royalists or courtiers

whom Scott reproduces throughout the Waverley novels. I

Yet Milton, despite the dislike of his party to Shakespeare's works, always admired them. His poetic taste in this one noble instance overcame party prejudice. He viewed "Sweetest Shakespeare, fancy's child" as an illustrious fellow-poet, not as a political opponent. In old age, however, Milton, forced to abandon politics, devoted his great mind, as some others have done, to literature for consolation, as well as occupation.

In England, Charles II.'s unmerited popularity continued with little abatement all his life, while religious more than political dissensions in Britain, Scotland especially, absorbed much of the literary talent of the time. These quarrels between Protestant divisions again encouraged the dispirited Catholics, who found a powerful if not unexpected friend in the king's brother and heir, James, Duke of York.

The alarm of the Protestants at the prospect of this successor to the crown inclined some to encourage Charles's illegitimate son, the Duke of Monmouth, to attempt or threaten a revolt, and the aid of literature, prompt, attractive, and able, appeared in a work of the Court poet, John Dryden (1631-1700). This poem, called "Absalom and Ahithophel," meaning Monmouth and his adviser, Lord Shaftesbury, appeared when the former's mutinous conduct roused

I 66 Woodstock," "Black Dwarf," and "Peveril of the Peak."

fears of his future rebellion, fatally verified in the ensuing reign of James II.

Dryden warmly praises the indolent, voluptuous Charles, who at his death desired no other successor than his legitimate brother, who therefore became king without opposition. But soon after his accession some apprehensive Protestants rose in rebellion in England and Scotland, headed by Monmouth in the former and the Earl of Argyll in the latter. Their joint revolt being speedily suppressed left James in firm possession of the throne.

Dryden's pen was busily employed in the new king's praise. In his beautiful poem, "The Hind and the Panther," James is the generous "royal Lion" trying to protect the various animals under his rule. Among these, the most interesting, helpless, and persecuted is the Catholic Church-"the milk-white hind" "fated not to die," fearing no danger, and knowing no sin, &c. The non-Catholic animals are represented by the "Prelatist" panther, the Presbyterian" wolf, the Anabaptist" boar, the Independent" bear, the "Socinian " fox, the

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Quaker" hare, and the "Atheist" monkey. These are all more or less exposed to blame, hatred, and ridicule.

Dryden's clever comparisons of various animals to different religious sects must have been extremely irritating to all except the Catholics. Yet his own joyous, genial disposition, fully shown in his beautiful ode or drinking song of Alexander's Feast, apparently prevented his making personal enemies.

It was well known that there was no religious bigotry in his nature. I He skilfully compares Prelacy, professed by the English aristocracy and wealthier classes, to the sleek, graceful panther, externally beautiful, yet ferocious when roused.

re

Puritanism, professed by eager, zealous, poorer adherents, chiefly in Scotland, naturally more sembled the gaunt, hungry wolf. The Independents, rough and dangerous as Cromwell's soldiers certainly were to friends and foes, well represented a growling bear. The Socinian, whose faith never established in any country, was found among various denominations, and, reasonably afraid to state his opinions, was probably often forced to play a cunning, fox-like part in concealing them.

The likeness of Atheists to impudent, mocking monkeys was even shown in Voltaire's great instance, according to Macaulay.2 Though it is doubtful if this extraordinary man was really an Atheist, 3 he was certainly thought so by many religious men of his time, and Macaulay evidently shares their opinions. The "Quaker" hare refusing to swear, not from fear, but from religious scruple, is certainly treated unjustly by a worldly, "slashing" writer like Dryden, little inclined to examine or appreciate conscientious

motives.

The Catholic Church, as the harmless, threatened

Johnson's "Life of Dryden," also Macaulay's Essay on him. 2 Macaulay's remarks on Voltaire's "monkey-like grimacing and chattering."" Essay on Frederick the Great."

3 John Morley's "Life of Voltaire."