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148 beautiful lady, daughter to Cunninghame of Barnes, an ancient and honourable family. His affection was returned by his mistress ; the marriage day appointed, and preparations in progress for the happy solemnization, when the young lady was seized suddenly with a fever, of which she died. His grief on this event he has expressed in many of those sonnets, which have given to him the title of this country's Petrarch ; and it has well been said, tint with more passion and sincerity he celebrated his dead mistress, than others use to praise their living ones.

The melancholy temperament of Drummond, we have before said, was one reason of his secluding himself from the world, and the ease and relief of mind which he sought, he had probably found, in his mode of life; but the rude shock which he now received rendered solitude irksome and baneful to him. To divert the train of his reflections, he resolved once more to go abroad, and in time, distance, and novelty, lose recollection of the happiness which had deluded him in his own country. He spent eight years in prosecution of this design, during which he travelled through the whole of Germany, France, and Italy ; Home and Paris being the two places in which he principally resided. He was at pains in cultivating the society of learned foreigners; and bestowed some attention in forming a collection of the best ancient Greek and Latin ter which might afterwards be reported to his prejudice. Drummond was no doubt entirely innocent of any such treacherous design; but being cut off from intercourse with men of genius, and yet having a great liking to such society, the opportunity of hearing, from the mouth of one of the most eminent wits of his time, a rapid sketch of whatever was interesting in the literary world, seemed too high an advantage not to be improved to the utmost; and Drummond wrote down notes of what passed, that he might recur to them when he could no longer enjoy the conversation of his visitor. If there happen to be some things which Jonson's biographers could wish had not been recorded against him, we cannot join them in their regret. It is certainly a pity that great men are not immaculate; but it is no pity that such faults as they are chargeable with are made known. If we were to choose, we would have the courses most frequented by our ships all clear of rocks and sands; but not being able to get things to our mind in this respect, the only resource is to mark them but as faithfully and conspicuously as possible, that those who sail the same way in future, may know to keep dear of these dangerous places. We trust the time is now nearly past for the biographer thinking it his duty to preserve an unvarying whiteness in the character he undertakes to draw. Cromwell's injunction to his painter ought to serve as a canon to all historians and writers of memoirs: 'I desire, Mr Lely,' said the gruff protector, 'that you will paint my picture truly like me, and not flatter me at all; but remark all these roughness's, pimples, warts, and every thing as you see me: otherwise, I will never pay you a farthing.'

"But all this, it may be said, is nothing to the breach of private confidence: Drummond was not Jonsen's biographer; and there was no occasion for his setting down aught to his prejudice, of what passed in the course of social converse, and was not expected by his guest ever to be repeated. To this it may be answered, that probably Jonson cared very little whether his conversation was repeated or not. His opinions must have been expressed with equal freedom to many others besides Drummond; for he was not a man to carry them about with him, locked up with difficulty in his own breast, till he came down to Scotland, and then think he had got them safely buried in a hole, like that foolish servant of Midas, who could not rest till he had dug a pit, whispered into it the portentous fact that his master had the ears of an ass, and then retired, thinking his secret closed up under the earth with which he had filled the pit again. If, then, Jonson did not care whether what he said was repeated or not, there was no breach of confidence towards him as an individual, and as for what is said of such disclosures having the effect to put a stop to all freedom of intercourse among literary men, since no one can be sure but that his friend is a note-taker, and will exhibit his private conversations, why, ever) one must take care for himself not to utter any thing upon these occasions derogatory to his own character, or which he would be ashamed to avow openly. This is a restraint, indeed, but it is one of a most salutary kind; for it cannot be contended that the enjoyments of society or at least what ought to be its enjoyments are abridged by the exclusion of such talk as people would afterwards have the world believe they took no part in. It is true, that in this way a man has no safeguard against a malicious or ignorant representation of his words ; because such things do not usually come abroad till after the death of those persons to whom they refer. But there is no help for it; every one must just oppose uprightness of conduct and purity of conversation, to slanders present and posthumous. Voltaire furnished the world with at least one safe maxim, when he said, 'the only way to oblige people to speak well of us, is to deserve it.' "