THE

LIFE OF WILLIAM HABINGTON.

BY MR. CHALMERS.

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The admission of Habington's poems into this collection has been suggested by many modern critics, and will unquestionably be sanctioned by every man of taste and feeling. He was, beyond most of his contemporaries, an honour to the fraternity of poets. It is easier, however, to revive the memory of his poems, than of his personal history. Wood's account of his family is not unsatisfactory, but he says little of our poet, although that little is commendatory. A few particulars are now added from Nash's History of Worcestershire and other authorities, but not enough to gratify our curiosity respecting one who was not only an excellent poet, but a virtuous and ami

a

able man.

His family were Roman catholics. His great-grand-father was Richard Habington, or Abington, of Brockhampton, in Herefordshire. His grand-father, John, second son of this Richard Flabington, and cofferer to queen Elizabeth, was born in 1515, and died in 1581. He bought the manor of Hindlip, in Worcestershire, and rebuilt the mansion about the year 1572. His father, Thomas Habington, was born at Thorpe, in Surrey, 1560, studied at Oxford, and afterwards travelled to Rheins and Paris. On his return he involved himself with the party who laboured to release Mary queen of Scots, and was afterwards imprisoned on a suspicion of being concerned in · Babington's conspiracy. During this imprisonment, which lasted six years, he employed his time in study. Having been at length released, and his life saved, as is supposed, on account of his being queen Elizabeth's godson, he retired to Hindlip, and married Mary, eldest daughter of Edward Parker, lord Morley, by Elizabeth, daughter and sole beir of sir William Stanley, lord Monteagle.

On the detection of the gun-powder plot, he again fell under the displeasure of government, by concealing some of the agents in that affair in his house', and was condemned to die, but pardoned by the intercession of his brother-in law, lord Morley,

'Of this he appears to have been unjustly accused. According to Nash's description of the house, it was, however, well adapted for the concealment of suspected persons. Sce Archæologia, vol. XV. j. 137, and Nash's Worcestershire. 6.

who discovered the plot by the famous letter of warning, which Mrs. Habington is reported to have written. The condition of his pardon was, that he should never stir out of Worcestershire. With this he appears to have complied, and devoted his time, among other pursuits, to the history and antiquities of that county, of which he left three folio volumes of parochial antiquities, two of miscellaneous collections, and one relating to the cathedral. These received additions from his son and from Dr. Thomas, of whom bishop Lyttelton purchased them, and presented them to the Society of Antiquaries. They have since formed the foundation of Dr. Nash's elaborate history3. Wood says he had a hand in the history of Edward IV. published afterwards under the name of his son, the poet, whom he survived, dying in 1647, at the advanced age of eighty-seven.

William Habington, his eldest son, was born at Hindlip, November 5, 1605*, and was educated in the Jesuits' College at St. Omer's, and afterwards at Paris, with a view to induce him to take the habit of the order, which he declined. On his return from the continent, he resided principally with his father, who became his preceptor, and evidently sent him into the world a man of elegant accomplishments and virtues. Although allied to some noble families, and occasionally mixing in the gaieties of high life, his natural disposition inclined him to the purer pleasures of rural life. He was probably very early a poet and a lover, and in both successful. He married Lucy, daughter of William Herbert, first lord Powis, by Eleanor, daughter of Henry Percy, eighth earl of Northumberland by Katherine, daughter and co-heir of John Neville, lord Latimer, It is to this lady that, we are indebted for his. poems, most of which were written in allusion to his courtship and marriage. She was the Castara who animated his imagination with tenderness and elegance, and purified it from the grosser opprobria of the amatory poets, His poems, as was not unusual in that age, were written occasionally, and dispersed confidentially. In 1635, they appear to have been first collected into a volume, which Oldys calls the second edition, under the title of Castara, Another edition was published in. 1640, which is by far the most perfect and correct. The reader to whom an analysis may be necessary, will find a very judicious one in the last volume of the Censura Literaria.

1

some particular pieces of history in the reigns of Henry II. Richard I, &c. interspersed with political and moral reflections, similar to what he bad introduced in his larger history. This was entitled The History of Edward IV. fol. 1640, which, as Wood asserts was both written and published at the desire of Charles I. He also insinuates that Habington "did run with the times, and was not unknown to Oliver the Usurper," but we have no evidence of any compliance with a system of political measures so diametrically opposite to those which, we may suppose, belonged to the education and principles of a Roman Catholic family. It is, indeed, grossly improbable that he should have complied with Cromwell who was as yet no usurper, and during the life of his royal master whose cause was not yet desperate. Of his latter days we have no farther account than that he died Nov. 13, 1645, and was buried at Hindlip in the family vault. He left a son, Thomas, who, dying without issue, bequeathed his estate to sir William Compton.

His poems are distinguished from those of most of his contemporaries, by delicacy of sentiment, tenderness, and a natural strain of pathetic reflection. His favourite subjects, virtuous love and conjugal attachment, are agreeably varied by strokes of fancy and energies of affection. Somewhat of the extravagance of the metaphysical poets is occasionally discernible, but with very little affectation of learning, and very little effort to draw his imagery from sources with which the Muses are not familiar. The virtuous tendency and chaste language of his poems form no inconsiderable part of their merit, and his preface assures us that his judgment was not inferior to his imagipation.

THE AUTHOR.

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a

THE presse hath gathered into one, what fancie bad scattered in many loose papers. To write this, love stole some houres from businesse, and my more serious study. For though poetry may challenge, if not priority, yet equality, with the best sciences, both for antiquity and worth ; I never set so high a rate upon it, as to give my selfe entirely up to its devotion. It hath too much ayre, and (if without offence to our next transmarine neighbour) wantons too much according to the French garbe. And when it is wholly imployed in the soft straines of love, his soule who entertaines it, loseth much of that strength which should confirme bim man. The nerves of judgement are weakened most by its dalliance; and when woman (I meane onely as she is externally faire) is the supreme object of wit, we soone degenerate into effeminacy. For the religion of fancie declines into a mad superstition, when it adores that idoll which is not secure from age and sicknesse. Of such heathens, our times afford us a pittyed multitude, who can give no nobler testimony of twenty yeares' imployment, than some loose coppies of lust happily exprest. Yet these the common people of wit blow up with their breath of praise, and honour with the sacred name of poets : to which, as I believe, they can never have any just claime, so shall I not dare by this essay to lay any title, since more sweate and oyle he must spend, who shall arrogate so excellent an attribute. Yet if the innocency of a chaste Muse shall bee more acceptable, and weigh heavier in the ballance of esteeme than a fame begot in adultery of study, I doubt I shall-leave them no hope of competition. For how unhappie soever I may be in the elocution, I am sure the theame is worthy enough. In all those flames in which I burnt, I never felt a wanton heate; nor was my invention ever sinister from the straite way of chastity. And when love builds upon that rocke, it may safely contempe the battery of the waves and threatnings of the wind. Since time, that makes a mockery of the firmest structures, shall it selfe be ruinated, before that be demolisht. Thus was the foundation layd. And though my eye, in its survey, was satisfied, even to curiosity, yet did not my search rest there. The alabaster, ivory, porphir, iet, that lent an admirable beauty to the outward building, entertained me with but a halfe pleasure, since they stood there onely to make sport for ruine. But when my soule grew acquainted with the owner of that mansion, I found that Oratory was dombe when it began to speake her, and wonder (which must necessarily seize the best at that time) a lethargie, that dulled too much the faculties of the minde, onely fit to busie themselves in discoursing her perfections: Wisdome, I encountered there, that could not spend it selfe since it affected silence, attentive onely to instructions, as if all her sences had beene contracted into hearing: Inocencie, so not vitiated by conversation with the world, that the subtile witted of her sex,' would have tearm'd it ignorance: wit, which seated it selfe most in the apprehension, and if not inforc't by good manners, would scarce have gain’d the name of affability:. Modesty, so timorous, that it represented a besieged citty, standing watchfully upon her guard, strongest in the loyalty to her prince. In a word, all those vertues wbich should restore woman to her primitive state of beauty, fully adorned her. But I shall be censured, in labouring to come nigh the truth, guilty of an indiscreet rheroticke. However such I fancied her, for to say shee is, or was such, were to play the merchant, and boast too much the value of a jewell I possesse, but have no minde to part with. And though I appeare to strive against the streame of best wits, in erecting the selfe same altar, both to chastity and love; I will for once adventure to doe well, without a president. Nor if my rigid friend question superciliously the setting forth of these poems, will I excuse my selfe (though justly perhaps I might) that importunity prevailed, and cleere judgements advised. This onely I dare say, that if they are not strangled with envie of the present, they may happily live in the not dislike of future times. For then partiality ceaseth, and vertue is without the idolatry of ber clients, esteemed worthy bonour. Nothing new is free from detraction, and when princes alter customes even heavie to the sub