Produced by Jonathan Ingram, Carol David and PG Distributed Proofreaders
It is too true, after all, that the lives of poets are not, in general,very interesting. Could we, indeed, trace the private workings of theirsouls, and read the pages of their mental and moral development, nobiographies could be richer in instruction, and even entertainment, thanthose of our greater bards. The inner life of every true poet must bepoetical. But in proportion to the romance of their souls' story, isoften the commonplace of their outward career. There have been poets,however, whose lives are quite as readable and as instructive as theirpoetry, and have even shed a reflex and powerful interest on theirwritings. The interest of such lives has, in general, proceeded eitherfrom the extraordinary misfortunes of the bard, or from his extremelybad morals, or from his strange personal idiosyncrasy, or from his beinginvolved in the political or religious conflicts of his age. The life ofMilton, for instance, is rendered intensely interesting from hisconnexion with the public affairs of his critical and solemn era. Thelife of Johnson is made readable from his peculiar conformation of body,his bear-like manners, his oddities, and his early struggles. You devourthe life of Gifford, not because he was a poet, but because he was ashoemaker; and that of Byron, more on account of his vices, his peerage,and his domestic unhappiness, than for the sake of his poetry. And inWaller, too, you feel some supplemental interest, because he united whatare usually thought the incompatible characters of a poet and apolitical plotter, and very nearly reached the altitudes of the gallowsas well as those of Parnassus.
March 1605 was the date, and Coleshill, in Hertfordshire, the place, ofthe birth of our poet. He was of an ancient and honourable familyoriginally from Kent, some members of which were distinguished for theirwealth and others for the valour with which, at Agincourt and elsewhere,they fought the battles of their country. Robert Waller, the poet'sfather, inherited from Edmund, his father, the lands of Beaconsfield,in Bucks, and other territory in Hertfordshire. These had been in 1548-9left by Francis Waller, in default of issue by his own wife, to hisbrothers Thomas and Edmund, but Thomas dying, Edmund inherited thewhole. Robert, on receiving his estates, quitted the profession of thelaw, to which he had attached himself, and spent the rest of his lifechiefly at Beaconsfield, employed in the manly business and healthyamusements of a country gentleman. He died in August 1616, and left awidow and a son—the son, Edmund, being eleven years of age. It was atBeaconsfield. We need hardly remind our readers, that a far greaterEdmund—Edmund Burke—spent many of his days. It was there that hecomposed his latest and noblest works, the "Reflections on the FrenchRevolution," and the "Letters on a Regicide Peace;" and there hesurrendered to the Creator one of the subtlest, strongest, brightest,and best of human souls. Shortly after Burke's death, the house ofBeaconsfield was burnt down, and no trace of it is now, we believe,extant.
Mrs. Waller's brother, William, was the father of John Hampden. Hiswife, Elizabeth Cromwell, the aunt of the great Oliver, was, however,and continued to the end, a violent Roy