The original of Manningham's Diary, which is here printed, is No. 5353 in the Harleian collection of MSS. in the British Museum. It is a diminutive 12mo. volume, measuring not quite six inches by four, and containing 133 leaves. The handwriting, of which an admirable representation is given in the fac-simile prefixed, is small, and in the main extremely legible; yet in some few places, from haste in the writer, from corrections, from blotting, from the effects of time, and from other obvious causes, difficulties have occurred in a word or two, which, even with the assistance of gentlemen most skilful in reading the old hands, have not been entirely overcome. The few instances in which the collater has been baffled are indicated by marks of doubt.

The first historical writer who noticed this little volume for a literary purpose was Mr. John Payne Collier. In his Annals of the Stage, published in 1831 (i. 320), Mr. Collier quoted from this Diary various passages connected with his special subject, and drew attention to the principal personal facts disclosed by the writer respecting himself, namely, that he had many relations in Kent, and had probably been a member of the Middle Temple.

The late Mr. Joseph Hunter was the next writer who used the work for an historical purpose.1 With his well-known fondness for genealogical inquiries he applied himself to determine who the writer was whom Mr. Collier had designated merely as a barrister. In this inquiry Mr. Hunter was completely successful. Pursuing the clue given by the mention of relationships in Kent in the various ways which would occur to a person skilled in such investigations, Mr. Hunter fell upon a track in which coincidences between the facts stated in the MS. and those elicited by his own researches followed one another so rapidly as in the end to leave not even the shadow of a doubt that the desired result had been obtained.

We shall briefly indicate the course by which Mr. Hunter arrived at his conclusions. It looks easy enough after the end has been attained, but it will be borne in mind that inquiries of this kind are extremely discursive. The statement of a few leading facts upon the establishment of which the final conclusion is arrived at, gives no idea of the time lost in investigations which are merely tentative. In all such inquiries we are soon reminded of the pretty passages which, after turnings and windings almost ad libitum, are ultimately found to lead to nothing.

Besides cousins of at least seven different names who are alluded to by the Diarist, several of them in connection with Canterbury, Sandwich, and Godmersham, there is one whom he specially commemorates as "my cousin in Kent" (p. 19), and whom he frequently vouches by that designation, or merely as his cousin, as his authority for information which he chronicles. This cousin was evidently the writer's most important connection—the great man of the family. To visit him and his somewhat wayward second wife was the principal object of the Diarist's journeys into Kent. It also appears that this cousin was a man advanced in life,—roughly stated to be 62 years of age in March 1602-3, and that he resided at a place called Bradbourne, in the neighbourhood of Maidstone. This last fact led directly to the identification desired.

Bradbourne was easily found. It has been for centuries a family seat in the parish of East Malling. Hasted has represented the house in one of his pictorial illustrations pretty much as it yet exists. It has been shorn indeed of many of the noble trees, of the deer, and of some of the other aristocratic adornments with which the county historian surrounded it, but it still stands a stately old-fashioned red-brick mansion, probably of the date of the reign of Queen Anne. Long before that period the same spot was occupied by a previous residence of a county family. From the time of the Protectorate it has belonged to a branch of the old Kentish stock, the Twysdens; and before they purchased it—"in the reign of Queen Elizabeth," as Hasted remarks2—"it was in the possession of a family named Manningham."—Manningham! Our diarist slightly alludes to a cousin of that name, "G.Manningham, deceased."3 The clue was vague, but at that little chink there entered light sufficient to guide the researches of an antiquary.

The inscriptions on the older monuments in East Malling church are printed in Thorpe's Registrum Roffense.4 To them Mr. Hunter had recourse, and with good success. Amongst them he found one upon a monument5 still standing on the north side of the chancel of the church to a Richard Manningham, evidently a person of importance in that neighbourhood. It is not stated in the inscription that he was the owner of Bradbourne, but he lived at the time when our author paid his visits thither, and his age, as given on the monument, although not coincident with that stated by the Diarist,—for the monument declares that Richard Manningham died on the 25th April, 1611, in his 72nd year,—was sufficiently near to stimulate to further inquiries. But without following Mr. Hunter step by step it will be enough to state that from the inscription he went to Doctors' Commons, where, under the vicious system of mismanagement which then prevailed, he was one of the favoured two or three who were permitted to use the testamentary records, whilst all other inquirers were excluded with a most offensive disregard of courtesy. The will of Richard Manningham helped on the inquiry very considerably. It was further advanced by an heraldic Visitation of Kent, and was finally and triumphantly concluded by an inspection of the register-books of the Middle Temple.

Without derogating in the slightest degree from the merit of Mr. Hunter's investigations, or desiring to deprive his memory of one atom of the credit which attaches to it on that account, we prefer to state the facts respecting the Manninghams in words of our own, which will enable us to weave into the narrative some additions to the results of Mr. Hunter's inquiries.

About the middle of the sixteenth century the Manninghams were a numerous family of the middle class,6 branches of which were scattered about in various parts of England. The Richard Manningham of the monument at East Malling was born at St. Alban's; Robert Manningham, descended from a stock which removed out of Bedfordshire into Cambridgeshire, lived and died at Fen Drayton in that county; George Manningham dwelt in Kent, and from the marriages of his female descendants in that county there probably sprang the numerous cousinred of the family to which we have already alluded. Their status in Kent before Richard Manningham settled at Bradbourne may be inferred from one fact which appears in the Diary, namely, that George Manningham was bound as surety with William Somner, father of the well known antiquary of Canterbury, for the father's performance of the duties of the registrarship of the Ecclesiastical Court, in which office he preceded his son.

Richard, Robert, and George Manningham are all stated to have been relations, and probably they all stood about upon a par in worldly circumstances, but Richard pursued a way of life which enabled him to shoot ahead of all the members of his family. Of his youth we have no particulars, but he was well educated even according to present notions. He united an acquaintance with modern languages to the share of classical knowledge taught in our old grammar-schools, and is commemorated as having spoken and written Latin, French, and Dutch, with freedom and elegance, and as having been able at the age of sixty-two to repeat memoriter almost the whole of the first and second books of the Æneid.

Brought up to some branch of commerce, he was a member of the Mercers' Company of London, and in his business days resided in the metropolis, but age found him with a competency, and brought with it some customary infirmities. He retired from London, purchased the quiet sheltered Bradbourne, and passed the evening of his days in occupations in which literature bore a considerable share.

He was twice married; the first time to a native of Holland, a family connection of the Lady Palavicini, afterwards wife of Sir Oliver Cromwell, the uncle of the future Protector.7 This marriage was a happy one. The lady survived the purchase of Bradbourne,8 and was buried in the church of East Malling. Richard Manningham's second match was with a Kentish widow. The traces we find of her in the Diary do not leave an impression that she added much to her husband's happiness. She is not alluded to in his will. We may therefore conclude that she died between 1602 and 1611.9 There is no mention of issue by either marriage.

Childless, solitary, and infirm, Richard Manningham was in no degree misanthropic. Out of his abundance he applied considerable sums in charity, and for the benefit of his kindred, and at an early period looked around for a Manningham who might inherit the principal portion of his property and carry on his name. His choice fell upon John Manningham, a son of Robert of Fen Drayton, and his wife Joan, a daughter of John Fisher of Bledlow in the county of Bedford. That person is our Diarist.

Richard Manningham carried out the obligations of this adoption in the most liberal way. It is obvious from the Diary that John Manningham, whom Richard Manningham designated by the several titles of "cousin," "kinsman," and "son in love," received a generous education of the best kind. He was intended for the practice of the law, and on the 16th March, 1597-8, was entered of the Middle Temple, as the son and heir of Robert Manningham of Fen Drayton, gentleman, deceased. John Chapman, probably the same person who is mentioned in the Diary as one of the cousins who lived at Godmersham,10 and John Hoskyns, were the members of the Inn who were his sureties upon his admission.

On the 7th June 1605, having kept his exercises and been on the books for the needful seven years, he was called to the degree of an utter barrister; whether afterwards advanced to the dignity of being permitted to plead in actual causes in court does not appear.

Whilst in the Temple he had for his chamber-fellow Edward Curle, son of William Curle, a retainer of Sir Robert Cecil, who procured him to be appointed one of the auditors of the Court of Wards. Several persons of this family are quoted in the Diary, and the close relationship of chamber-fellow ripened not merely into lasting friendship with Edward Curle, and with his brother Walter, who afterwards became Bishop of Winchester, but into affection towards their sister Anne. John Manningham and Anne Curle were married probably about 1607. A son was born to them in 1608, who was named Richard after the quasi-grandfather at Bradbourne. Two other sons were subsequently named John and Walter, and three daughters, Susanna, Anne, and Elizabeth. Where John Manningham lived after he quitted the Temple, whether in London with a view to practice at the Bar, at Hatfield which was the place of residence of the Curles, or at Bradbourne with his "father in love," then a second time a widower, does not appear.

On the 3rd January 1609-10, the old merchant proved the reality of his assumed fatherhood by executing a deed of gift to John Manningham of the mansion-house of Bradbourne and the lands surrounding it in East Malling, and two years afterwards, on the 21st January, being, as he states, "in tolerable health of body in regard of mine age and infirmities," he made his will. It confirmed, "if needful," the deed of gift to John Manningham, appointed him sole executor, and with some slight exceptions and the charge of a considerable number of legacies, most of them tokens of remembrance, gave him all the residue of his property. The multitude of the old man's legacies and not less so their character tell of his continuing interest in the connections of his past life. They read like the last utterances of a warm and affectionate spirit casting back its glance upon those from whom it was about to part; whilst his adjuration to his adopted son to discharge the amounts with punctuality, although deformed by the verbiage of legal formality, and smacking a little of the mercantile estimate of the indispensable importance of payment on the very day, is not devoid of real solemnity. Omitting some of the tautologous expressions it reads thus:—"I charge John Manningham, by all the love and duty which he oweth me, for all my love and liberality which I have always borne [to] him and his heretofore, but chiefly in this my will, that he pay every legacy within six months after my death, those excepted that are appointed to be paid at certain days, and those to be duly paid at their days appointed, as my trust is in him, and as he will answer afore God and me at the latter day!" Nor is the pious close of the document without a share of true impressiveness:—"Having thus, I thank God, finished my will, and set an order in my worldly affairs, I will henceforward await God's will to depart hence in peace, most humbly beseeching him that when the day of my dissolution shall be come, I may by his grace be armed with a true and lively faith, firm hope, and constant patience, and be ready to forsake all to go to my blessed Saviour and Redeemer Jesus Christ. Amen, good Lord!"

He had not long to wait. His will was dated, as we have remarked, on the 21st January, 1611-12. On the 25th of the following April,11 Richard Manningham entered into his rest, and John Manningham into possession as adopted heir. On the following 1st of May he proved the will of his "father in love" at Doctors' Commons.

The few particulars we have been able to gather of the course of this family after the death of Richard Manningham are little more than a brief register of dates. On the 16th April 1617, William Curle the father died. He was interred in Hatfield church, where a monument commemorates his fidelity as a public officer, his good-fortune in his children and friends, and his calm and happy death.12

In 1619, John Philipot, York Herald, made a Visitation for Kent as Deputy for Camden, the Clarencieux. On this occasion John Manningham registered his arms and pedigree. It is observable that he did not introduce into it the descent of his cousin Richard Manningham from their common ancestor, nor even his name. If the Visitation may be depended upon we may infer that between the time when the return was made and the 21st January 1621-2, when John Manningham made his own will, he lost his daughter Anne by death, and his youngest son, to whom he gave the name of his brother-in-law Walter, was born. Before the same day his other brother-in-law and chamber-fellow Edward Curle had also died. The last trace we have found of him is in 1613.

In the will of John Manningham to which we have just alluded, and which it will be observed was dated like that of his predecessor on a 21st January, he described himself as of "East Malling, esquire," and devised Bradbourne and all the lands derived from his "late dear cousin and father in love" Richard Manningham, "who for ever," he remarks, "is gratefully to be remembered by me and mine," to his widow for life and after her decease entailed the same on his three sons in succession. He gave to his daughter Susanna a marriage portion of 300l.; to Elizabeth, 250l.; to the little Benjamin of his flock, the young Walter, anything but a Benjamin's share of 100l.; and to his executors 20 nobles a piece; all the rest of his personalty he divided between his widow and his eldest son. He named as executors Dr. Walter Curle, who had then ascended upon the ladder of preferment to the Deanery of Lichfield, and John Manningham's cousin, Dr. William Roberts of Enfield. The Will was proved on the 4th December, 1622, by Dr. Curle alone, Dr. Roberts having renounced.

Two further facts bring to an end the brief glimmerings we have been able to discover respecting the third generation of the Manninghams at Bradbourne.

Bishop Walter Curle made his will on the 15th March 1646-7, and left to his nephew and godson Walter Manningham a sum of 50l. To the boy's mother—"my loving sister Mrs. Anne Manningham," the Bishop left "a piece of plate of twenty ounces."13

Nine years afterwards the "loving sister" had followed the Bishop into the better land. Where she was buried does not appear, certainly not at East Malling. Bradbourne then fell to the second Richard Manningham, who sold it in 1656 to Mr. Justice Twysden, in whose family it still remains. Thus drops the curtain upon the connexion of the Manninghams with East Malling.

Other persons of the same name appear in the succeeding century, one on the episcopal bench as Bishop of Chichester, from 1709 to 1722, and his son Sir Richard Manningham as a distinguished physician and discoverer of the fraud of Mary Tofts the rabbit-breeder, but their connexion with the subjects of our inquiry does not very clearly appear.

Turn we now from the Diarist and his family to the Diary. It was written by John Manningham whilst a student in the Middle Temple, and runs through the year 1602 down to April in 1603, Occasionally, as we have remarked in one of our notes, some few of the entries are out of chronological order, either from mistake of the binder or irregularity of the Diarist. In some cases it clearly arose from the habit of the latter of making his entries in any part of the book where there happened to be a vacant space. The consequences are of so little moment that we have thought it best in printing to follow the order of the original MS. as it now stands.

Chronological sequence is the less important as the book is scarcely what is generally understood by a Diary. It is rather a note-book in which the writer has jotted down from time to time his impressions of whatever he chanced to hear, read, or see, or whatever he desired to preserve in his memory. The result is a curious patchwork. Anecdotes, witticisms, aphoristic expressions, gossip, rumours, extracts from books, large notes of sermons, occasional memoranda of journeys into Kent and Huntingdonshire, with some little personal matter of the true Diary kind, are all thrown together into a miscellany of odds and ends.

Our Diarist could not have lived in a better place than in an Inn of Court for the compilation of such a book. The common dinner and the common supper, the less formal gatherings at the buttery-bar and around the hall fire, and in the summer time the exercise taken in the pleasant garden—an indispensable accompaniment of an Inn of Court—brought together multitudes of the "unbaked and doughy youth of the nation," full of life and spirit, most of them under training for legal practice or public business, and sparkling with all the freshness and volatility, the exuberance and glow which distinguish the opening of young wits. This was the very place to furnish materials for such a note-book as we have described. Among such companions the bon mot of the bar, the scandal of the Court, the tittle-tattle of the town, were the very pabulum of their daily conversation. A witty sarcasm would tell among students not "past the bounds of freakish youth" with infinite effect, and it mattered little—such was the universal freedom of language and manners in those days—how literal the expression, or to what kind of subject it related. Perhaps even additional zest was given to a pithy speech by its want of reserve in relation to transactions which we have come to regard as better left untalked about. Neither was there found any greater difficulty in writing about such matters than in speaking of them. The line of stars which occasionally will be found stretching across our page indicates the occurrence of passages which principally on this ground we have deemed it unadvisable to print.

The time in which our Diarist wrote was distinguished by one event of surpassing interest—the death of the great Queen who had ruled the country for more than forty years. In reference to that event he possessed peculiar opportunities of acquiring information, and what he has told us is essentially of historical authority. His channel of communication with the Court was Dr. Henry Parry, subsequently Bishop of Gloucester and afterwards of Worcester, at that time one of her Majesty's chaplains and on duty in that character at the Queen's death. On the 23rd March 1602-3, the rumours respecting her Majesty's health were most alarming. The public were even doubtful whether she was actually alive. In satisfaction of his curiosity our Diarist proceeded to the palace at Richmond, where the great business was in progress. He found assembled there the Archbishop of Canterbury, the Lord Keeper, and others of the highest official dignitaries. The Queen still lived, and the ordinary daily religious services were still kept up within the sombre palace. Dr. Parry preached before the assembled visitors, and our Diarist was permitted to be one of the audience. The sermon was as little connected as could be with the urgent circumstances which must have drawn off the thoughts of his congregation, but in the preacher's prayers both before and after his discourse he interceded for her Majesty so fervently and pathetically, that few eyes were dry.

Service over, Manningham dined in the privy chamber with Dr. Parry and a select clerical company, who recounted to him the particulars of the Queen's illness; how for a fortnight she had been overwhelmed with melancholy, sitting for hours with eyes fixed upon one object, unable to sleep, refusing food and medicine, and until within the last two or three days declining even to go to bed. It was the opinion of her physicians that if at an early period she could have been persuaded to use means she would unquestionably have recovered, but she would not, "and princes," our Diarist remarks, "must not be forced." Her fatal obstinacy brought her at length into a condition which was irremediable. For two days she had lain "in a manner speechless, very pensive and silent,"—dying of her own perverseness. When roused she showed by signs that she still retained her faculties and memory, but the inevitable hour was fast approaching. The day before, at the instance of Dr. Parry, she had testified by gestures her constancy in the Protestantism "which she had caused to be professed," and had hugged the hand of the archbishop when he urged upon her a hopeful consideration of the joys of a future life. In these particulars our Diarist takes us nearer to the dying bed of the illustrious Queen than any other writer with whom we are acquainted.

Dr. Parry remained with the Queen to the last. It was amidst his prayers that about three o'clock in the morning which followed Manningham's visit to the palace she ceased to breathe.

For the last few years the public mind had been disturbed by claims put forth on behalf of a multitude of pretenders to the now empty throne. The people had been bewildered and alarmed by the production of no less than fourteen different titles advanced on behalf of a number of separate claimants. A strong impression prevailed that on the Queen's death a struggle was inevitable—that the long peace which the country had owed to the Tudors would come to an end with them. The vacancy had now occurred, and every one was anxious to know in what manner the claimants would prefer their claims, and who would arbitrate amongst their clashing interests? Above all things, as likely to involve the most important changes, what course would be taken by the Roman Catholics? It seemed a great opportunity for them, so great that no one imagined they would allow it to slip past.

The statements of our Diarist at this time are of particular interest. The ministers of the late Queen acted with equal promptitude and prudence. Sir Robert Cecil had settled the matter long ago, and all his fellow-ministers now concurred in what he had done. Not an instant was lost; at the very earliest moment, at day-break, in less than four hours after the Queen had ceased to breathe at Richmond, a meeting of the Council was held at Whitehall. A proclamation already prepared by Cecil, and settled by the anxious King of Scotland, was produced and signed. At 10 o'clock the gates of Whitehall were thrown open. Cecil, with a roll of paper in his hand, issued forth at the head of a throng of gentlemen, and with the customary display of tabards and blare of trumpets proclaimed the accession of King James.

"The proclamation," remarks our author, "was heard with great expectation and silent joy, no great shouting." At night there were bonfires and ringing of bells, but "no tumult, no contradiction, no disorder in the city; every man went about his business as readily, as peaceably, as securely, as though there had been no change nor any news of competitors." The quickness and unanimity of the council, combined with the popular feeling in favour of King James, fixed him at once in the new dignity. Opponents were overawed and silenced when they found that the supporters of the King had as it were stolen a march upon them, and that, although he himself was absent, his friends were in possession of all the powers of government on his behalf. The previous agitation subsided almost instantly. The disturbed sea rocked itself to rest.

From this time general anxiety was directed towards the North. "The people is full of expectation, and great with hope of our new King's worthiness, of our nation's future greatness; every one promises himself a share in some famous action to be hereafter performed for his prince or country." The anticipations which the people framed for themselves from the change of sex in their new governor, from the change of age, and from the ambition which they imagined would be developed in him by his transference from a small rough unsettled country to one which by forty years of steady government had acquired a unity, a solidity, a definite and noble position among the nations of the world, of which all true Englishmen were proud, have no where been brought so clearly before us, as in the pages of our Diarist. Such anticipations were like the fire of brushwood. It is painful to think of the disappointment to which they were doomed.

Besides these events of an historical character, there are scattered through the Diary a multitude of notices of persons of less social position than Elizabeth and James, but not by any means of less interest. Living among lawyers, it was of course that many of the young student's notes would relate to them. But many of the lawyers of that day, both those who had earned the honours of their profession and those who still remained in statu pupillari, were men about whom we can never learn too much. In these notes we have glimpses of Sir Thomas More, of Bacon, Coke, Lord Keeper Egerton, of Judges Anderson, Manwood, and Catline, of the merry old Recorder Fleetwood, of his graver successor Croke, and of the beggar's friend, Sir Julius CÆsar. Among the younger men we may notice Sir Benjamin Rudyerd, the future Lord Chief Justice Bramston, and the man who in the coming stormy times was for a period more prominent than them all, the statesman Pym. It will be seen in a note at p. 104, that the publication of this volume has given an opportunity for the settlement of the question, whether Pym had what may be termed a regular legal education, which his biographers have left in doubt. The Middle Temple has clearly the high honour of reckoning him upon their roll.

Of non-legal persons who are here brought before us with more or less prominency, we need scarcely allude to the entries relating to Shakespeare and the performance of his Twelfth Night, which were first noticed by Mr. Collier, and have been used by every subsequent writer on dramatic subjects. The unfortunate Overbury comes before us several times, such as we should have expected to find him, inconsiderate and impetuous. Ben Jonson flits across the page. Of Marston there is a disagreeable anecdote which has not been left unnoticed by poetical antiquaries. Sir Thomas Bodley and Lord Deputy Mountjoy are alluded to. There is an excellent account of an interview with old Stowe the antiquary, a valuable glimpse of the Cromwell family during the boyhood of the Protector, and references, some of them of importance, to Sir Walter Raleigh, to his foolish friend Lord Cobham, to the wizard Earl of Northumberland, and of course many allusions to the Cecils, both to Sir William, and to that youngest son to whom, according to the joke which is here preserved, his father's wisdom descended as if it had been held by the tenure of Borough-English.

One peculiarity of this Diary is the very large proportion of it which is given up to notes of sermons. There is something in this which is characteristic of the time as well as of the writer. It was a sermon-loving age, and that to a degree which it is scarcely possible for us to understand in our degenerate days. Another thing which is equally at variance with modern notions is that, when reading the original manuscript, we pass at once from passages which we have been obliged to reject as unfit for publication to notes of pulpit addresses which inculcate a high-toned morality based upon those sound principles which apply even to the thoughts and feelings. It is clear that the incongruity in this contrast which is painful to us was not then perceived. The coarseness of the popular language on the one hand, and the affection for pulpit addresses, even among students of the Inns of Court, on the other, were both parts of what we are accustomed to term the manners of the age, and, like all things universally accepted, their rights and wrongs were never very minutely criticised. The language we have objected to is of course entirely indefensible. It was the slough of a coarser generation, which our ancestors had not then entirely cast off.

Of many of the sermons as represented in these notes we think highly, but we have printed the whole of them in smaller type, so that they may be distinguished at a glance, and if there be any of our readers to whom they are less acceptable, they may be easily passed over.

Among the preachers who are here commemorated will be found some of the most celebrated divines of the day;—Dr. Lancelot Andrewes, Dr. James Montague, Dr. John Buckeridge, Dr. John King, Dr. Parry, and Dr. George Abbot, none of them yet Bishops; Andrew Downes the Grecian; Dr. Thomas Holland, Regius Professor of Divinity at Oxford; Dr. Giles Thompson, afterwards Dean of Windsor; with two fervid orators, frowned upon by many of their brethren, but most influential with the people,—one of them Mr. Egerton, whose congregation assembled "in a little church or chapel up stairs" in Blackfriars, and the other Mr. Clapham, who was the incumbent of a church at Paul's Wharf.

In notes, for the most part very skilfully taken,[14] of sermons of men so various in their acquirements, and many of them so eminently distinguished, we have examples of the pulpit oratory of the age, with evidences of the nature of the doctrines then generally prevalent in the Church of England, and of some of the qualities which tended to make the preaching of those doctrines popular.

Nor is the book devoid of notices of many other circumstances which were characteristical of the time. The following are examples. At p. 22 we find an account of the operation of lithotomy, stated to be then first brought into medical practice; at p. 46 we learn that "a certain kind of compound called Laudanum" had been recently introduced as the chloroform, and at p. 132 that the game of shuttlecock was the croquet, of the day. In another place (p. 110) the fantastical and affectedly humble salutation to the knee alluded to by dramatists of the period is said to have been one of the many changes in fashion attributed to English travellers returned from Italy. At p. 36 there is a notice of an article apparently of fashionable costume which we are unable to explain, "Kentish tails." It is said of these things, whatever they were, that they "are now turned to such spectacles, so that if a man put them on his nose he shall have all the land he can see." What connection, if any, there may be between the tails here mentioned and the old legend of Kentish tails, we are obliged to leave to the consideration of persons versed in the antiquities of that county.15 There are other passages which deal with the fashions of the day. It was a time in which ladies' dressing-rooms were nearly allied to apothecaries' shops, and the art of manufacturing female beauty seems to have fallen into the hands of probably a lower and irregular class of medical practitioners. The poets are full of allusions to this subject. Massinger sums it up in a passage which we may be excused for quoting:—

The anecdotes jotted down by the young Templar speak for themselves. They of course derive their principal value from the names to which they are attached. Notices of personal peculiarities are so singularly evanescent, they live so entirely in the observation and memory of contemporaries, that it is a biographical gain to have them recorded in any shape. Apparent trifles, such as the waddling gait of Sir John Davies, the stately silence of Lord Montjoy at the dinner table, the description of the popular preacher Clapham—"a black fellow with a sour look but a good spirit, bold and sometimes bluntly witty," the fussy particularity of Fleetwood the recorder, the vanity of old Stowe,—these, and memoranda such as these, impart a life and reality to our conceptions of the men to whom they relate, which cannot be derived from volumes of mere dates and facts.

Of the recorded witticisms, the peculiarity which will strike the reader in this case, as in all others of the same description, is their singular want of originality. Good things which were current in the classical period are here re-invented, or warmed up, for the amusement of the contemporaries of King James. And the same thing occurs over and over again, from generation to generation. Mots which descended to the times of Manningham reappeared in the pages of Joe Miller, are recorded among the clever sayings of Archbishop Whateley, and in one instance at least may be found among the pulpit witticisms of Rowland Hill.

The book is one which would bear a large amount of illustrative annotation. We have endeavoured in most cases to keep down what we had to say to mere citation of the ordinary standard books of reference—the tools with which all literary men work. It is well for them that our literature can boast of instruments so well suited to their purpose as Dr. Bliss's edition of Wood's AthenÆ, Mr. Hardy's edition of Le Neve's Fasti, and Mr. Foss's Lives of the Judges—the books to which we have principally referred. May the number of such works be increased!

Finally, we have the grateful task of returning thanks to two gentlemen who have specially assisted us in issuing this book. To Mr. John Forster, the author of the Life of Eliot and of many other valuable historical works, we are indebted for the use of a transcript of part of the Diary here printed; and to Mr. John Gough Nichols, like the Editors of most of the volumes printed for the Camden Society, we owe the great advantage of many most useful suggestions during the progress of the work. The results of their kindness and of the liberality of Mr. Tite will we hope be acceptable to the Society.

J. B.