care, by hopes of advancing their fortune, few attaining unto any great matter here until they come to be old. Cardinal Sacchetti is now in his seventy-fifth year, and doth ordinarily walk three or four miles without resting, by which means he enjoys a prosperous health, and preserves his wits fresh and clear as in his youth.'

During the summer, several of the most distinguished persons in Rome invited him to accompany them to their villas in the neighborhood of the city. He availed himself of the kindness of prince Pamfili, nephew of the late pope Innocent X, who offered him apartments in his villa of Belvidere near Frascati. In one of his letters he thus describes his situation at this charming retreat:

Whilst every body at Rome is panting and gasping for life in the heat, which they say this year is much greater than ordinary, I enjoy so fresh an air as to have no reason at all to complain of the sun. Here are walks and fountains in the greatest perfection, and though my natural delight in solitude is very much increased this last year, I cannot desire to be more alone than I am, and hope to continue. My conversation is with birds, trees, and books: In these last months that I have no business at all, I have applied myself to study a little more than 1 have done formerly; and though one who begins at my age cannot hope to make any considerable progress this way, I find so much satisfaction in it, that for the future I shall very unwillingly, though I had the opportunity, put inyself in any way of living that shall deprive me of that entertainment. Whatever hath been formerly the object of my thoughts and desires, I have now intention of seeking little more than quietness.'

In a subsequent letter, he adds:

• Nature, art, and treasure can hardly make a place more pleasant than this. The description of it would look more like poetry than truth. A Spanish lady coming not long since to see this house, seated on a large plain out of the middle of a rock, and a river brought to the top of the mountain, with the walks and fountains, ingeniously desired those that were present, not to pronounce the name of our Saviour, lest it should dissolve this beautiful enchantment. We have passed the solstice, and I have not yet had occasion to complain of heat, which in Rome is very excessive and hath filled the town with sickness, especially that part of it where I lived. Here it is that I look for health, quiet, and solitude. I am with some eagerness fallen to reading, and find so much satisfaction in it, that though I every morning see the sun rise, I never go abroad until six or seven of the clock at

night; yet I cannot be so sure of my temper as to know certainly how long this manner of life will please me. I cannot but rejoice a little to find, that when I wander as a vagabond through the world, forsaken of my friends, and known only to be a broken limb of a shipwrecked faction, yet find humanity and civility from those who are in the height of fortune and reputation.'

This grateful tribute to the hospitality of Rome has been uttered by a long succession of illustrious exiles from Sydney to our eloquent and lamented contemporary, Madame de Stael. In Rome the outcast and the friendless have ever found an asylum. She does not boast of toleration, but the sufferer for conscience' sake has rarely been driven from her walls. She does not hold herself up as the refuge of the oppressed, and call upon them to fly to her for protection, but year after year brings to her gates a throng of the persecuted and unfortunate, almost as numerous, and far more honorable, than the deputies who crowded the courts of her most powerful emperors. The abdicated queen of the north, the fugitive princes of Britain, the fallen dynasties of France and of Spain, have successively found a shelter, and learned a lesson of resignation, among the ruins of her imperial grandeur: the insulted advocate of popular rights reposes in honor and in peace with the kindred ashes of her Scipios and her Catos: the reviled and deserted sufferer for the cause of truth may tread with safety on the spot that is sprinkled with the blood of apostles. -Apud ignotos, apud barbaros, apud homines in extremis atque ultimis gentibus positos, nobile et illustre apud omnes nomen tuæ civitatis profuisset.'-Though Sydney found here. the repose of which he stood so much in need, he could not forget that he was in a state of dependence, and strove in vain to banish from his mind the recollection of his former hopes, or the anticipation of future sufferings. He says, in the same letter from which we have before quoted,

'But I do also well know I am in a strange land, how far those civilities do extend, and that they are too airy to feed or clothe a man. I cannot so unite my thoughts unto one object as absolutely to forbid the memory of such things as these are, to enter into them: but i go as far as I can, and since I cannot forget what is past, nor be insensible to what is present, 1 defend myself reasonably well from increasing or anticipating evils by foresight. The power of foreseeing is a happy quality unto those who prosper, and can ever propose to themselves something of

greater felicity than they enjoy, but a most desperate mischief unto them, who by forseeing, can discover nothing that is not worse than the evils they already feel. He that is naked, alone, and without help in the open sea, is less unhappy in the night when he may hope the land is near, than in the day when he sees it is not, and that there is no possibility of safety."

The unrelenting severity with which those individuals of the republican party, who had fallen into the king's hands, had been treated, and the unworthy means that were made use of to destroy such of them as still eluded pursuit, began to alarm Sydney for his personal safety. One or two of his party had already fallen by the hands of assassins, from which no asylum can afford a perfect security. He therefore returned to the north of Europe, that he might not be wanting to his public duty, whilst he was more conveniently situated for the management of his private affairs. He left Italy in 1663, and in his way through Switzerland passed three weeks with Ludlow and his companions in exile at Vevai, assuring them of his friendship and affection, and in no respect declining to own the cause for which he suffered. From thence he proceeded through Germany to Flanders, and established himself in September at Brussels. Here, at the request of his father, his portrait was taken by Van Egmont, and is still preserved at Penshurst. In this perplexed state of his affairs, Sydney's active mind was on the stretch for some honorable occupation. He accordingly seized with avidity a proposal to engage in the service of the emperor in Hungary, with a body of troops raised among his old associates, and wrote to his father to ascertain how far the government of England was disposed to countenance the design.

If there be any thing of reality in the proposition, says he, I can ascribe it only to the desire that those in power may have to send away those who are suspected by them. They shall have their end I will serve them in it if they please, and upon more easy terms than will be expected by others. I will undertake to transport a good strong body of the best officers and soldiers of our old army, both horse and foot. Though obtaining of this would be a very considerable advantage unto me and some of my friends, I do not ask it as a favor. I know neither they nor I shall receive any thing upon that account. The first that I ever did ask, and the least that I ever can ask, I mean the assurance of being permitted to live quietly at Penshurst, not having been granted, I am like to make few requests for the future. But as I

think that the advantage which the king expects by ridding the land of those persons, is the motive upon which the offer was made, I believe it to be a very considerable one; for they who find themselves suspected may possibly grow unquiet; the destroying of them will be a work of time, and not without difficulty and danger; and it cannot be expected that they will of their own accord leave their country, unless it be with some man of whom they have a good opinion, and all those are as little favored as I am. If it be granted, I hope to carry those who will gain honor unto the nation, wherever they go, and either find fortunes or graces for themselves. I doubt your lordship will be unwilling to propose this, lest it should make the king or ministers believe that I am upon better terms with my old companions, than you would have them think me. I desire your lordship to waive that scruple; I have credit enough with them for such a business as this is; and, if I were not thought at court to have far more than I have, they would not trouble themselves with me as much as they do. Whatsoever it is, I desire to make use of it to carry me, and a good number of those in the same condition, so far from England that those who hate us may give over suspecting us.'

This application was without effect, and Sydney had soon after additional reason to complain of the malice of his enemies at Augsburg, where he narrowly escaped assassination. Such implacable persecution drove him to the highest pitch of resentment, and disposed him to take advantage of any occasion that might offer to relieve himself and his friends from their unhappy condition, and his country from tyranny and oppression. On the breaking out of the war between England and the United Provinces in 1664, the English exiles looked forward with the most sanguine expectations to a cooperation in their favorite project of restoring the commonwealth. These hopes were encouraged by De Witt; and afterwards, when the United Provinces were joined by France, they made use of the exiles, by holding out the pretence of an invasion, to promote divisions among the English. Sydney and Ludlow were invited to Paris to conclude, under the auspices of the French government, a treaty for the restoration of the commonwealth, which had been already projected at the Hague. Sydney accordingly went to Frankfort, where he had a conference with the French resident at Mentz, who had repaired thither to meet them. Ludlow distrusting such allies, whose treachery towards his friends was still fresh in his recollection, declined any participation in the scheme. On being assured of personal

safety, Sydney proceeded alone to Paris, where he laid before the court his proposals for exciting an insurrection in England, demanding at the same time one hundred thousand crowns for that purpose. This the French government were not disposed to advance, until some disposition was shown on the part of his countrymen to concur in the undertaking. They however offered twenty thousand crowns, with the promise of further assistance when it should be thought necessary. This he declined, and, taking leave of the court, retired under a promise of security to the south of France. This chimerical project ended as might have been foreseen. The treaty of Breda was signed, (June 29, 1667,) without any provision for the unfortunate and deluded exiles. Sydney remained a long time in retirement, and very little seems to be known of him during the interval between his unsuccessful negotiation with the French court, and his return to England. He made known however the place of his retreat to his family, through sir William Temple, the English resident at Brussels, and son of his old friend and correspondent, sir John Temple. In 1670 it is said that lord Arlington, hearing from Colbert de Croissy, the French ambassador, that Sydney was at Paris, proposed that a pension should be allowed him by the king of France, and that the king of England consented to it. There is no evidence however of its ever having been paid. Indeed Sydney appears to have been still an object of great jealousy to Charles II, who frequently expressed his dread of his determined principles and courage. During his residence in France an anecdote is related of him, which is so characteristic, that we shall insert it, though we do not know that it is supported by very good authority:

The king of France having taken a fancy to a fine English horse on which he had seen him mounted in a chase, requested that he would part with it at his own price. On his declining the proposal, the king, determined to take no denial, gave orders to tender him money or to seize the horse. Sydney on hearing this instantly took a pistol and shot it, saying," that his horse had been born a free creature, had served a free man, and should not be mastered by a king of slaves !" "

He is supposed, in the long season of leisure which this seclusion afforded, to have digested and composed his essays on government, for which he afterwards suffered most severely New Series, No. 9.

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