of Ireland, Bramhall, wrote that Milton had deserved to be turned, not only out of the University of Cambridge, but out of the society of men; and that if Salmasius knew as much of Milton as he did, he would make him go near to hang himself (Rawdon Papers, p. 109). Locke, whom all now revere as a philosopher, was ignominiously expelled by a truckling Bishop from a Christ Church studentship at Oxford, in obedience to the arbitrary mandate of a profligate Secretary of State, for alleged ‘factious and disloyal behaviour, ’ which the Bishop disbelieved. Who would now care to exchange the place of Locke, Milton, and Marvell in the gallery of fame for those of Bishop Fell, Earl of Sunderland, Archbishop Bramhall, Sir Heneage Finch, afterwards Earl of Nottingham, and Bishop Parker?
In 1877 the Reverend R. Weiser of Georgetown, Colorado, wrote an article on Marvell (‘The Incorruptible Member from Hull’) for the Lutheran Quarterly, published in Gettysburg, Pennsylvania. Totally lacking in critical value, it is none the less illustrative of the way in which the derivative image of the incorruptible statesman was kept current. As the essayist acknowledges, his immediate impetus was provided by ‘an old musty volume’—E. P. Hood’s biographical and critical study, Andrew Marvell, the Wit, Statesman, and Poet, published in 1853. As Hood himself acknowledged, he too had had recourse to the lives of Marvell by Dove (No. 50) and Hartley Coleridge (No. 52), though since they seemed ‘so precisely alike, and appeared so simultaneously’ he could not ascertain who was, in fact, the original author. These two lives, in turn, were derived from a two-part anonymous article in the Retrospective Review for 1824-5 (No. 47), from