e had in his eye. The reason that he gave for
calling his poem _Hudibras_ was, because the name of the old tutelar
saint of Devonshire was _Hugh de Bras_." I find this in the Grubstreet
Journal, January, 1731, a periodical paper conducted by two eminent
literary physicians, under the appropriate names of Bavius and
Maevius,[312] and which for some time enlivened the town with the
excellent design of ridiculing silly authors and stupid critics.

It is unquestionably proved, by the confession of several friends of
Butler, that the prototype of Sir Hudibras was a Devonshire man; and if
Sir _Hugh de Bras_ be the old patron saint of Devonshire, (which however
I cannot find in Prince's or in Fuller's Worthies,)[313] this discovers
the suggestion which led Butler to the _name_ of his hero; burlesquing
the _new saint_ by pairing him with the chivalrous saint of the county;
hence, like the Knight of old, did

Sir _Knight_ abandon dwelling,
And out he rode a _Colonelling!_

This origin of the name is more appropriate to the character of the work
than deriving it from the Sir Hudibras of Spenser, with whom there
exists no similitude.

It is as honourable as it is extraordinary, that such was the celebrity
of Hudibras, that the workman's name was often confounded with the work
itself; the poet was once better known under the name of HUDIBRAS than
of BUTLER. Old Southern calls him "Hudibras Butler;" and if any one
would read the most copious life we have of this great poet in the great
General Dictionary, he must look for a name he is not accustomed to find
among English authors --that of _Hudibras_! One fact is remarkable:
that, like Cervantes, and unlike Rabelais and Sterne, Butler in his
great work has not sent down to posterity a single passage of indecent
ribaldry, though it was written amidst a court which would have got such
by heart, and in an age in which such trash was certain of popularity.

We know little more of Butler than we do of Shakspeare and of Spenser!
Longueville, the devoted friend of our poet, has unfortunately left no
reminiscences of the departed genius whom he so intimately knew, and who
bequeathed to Longueville the only legacy a neglected poet could
leave--all his manuscripts; and to his care, though not to his spirit,
we are indebted for Butler's "Remains." His friend attempted to bury him
with the public honours he deserved, among the tombs of his
brother-bards in Westminster Abbey; but he