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Abulfaragius was ordained bishop of Guba at 20 years of age, by Ignatius, the patriarch of the Jacobites. In 1247 he was promoted to the see of Lacabena, and some years after to that of Aleppo. About the year 1266 he was elected primate of the Jacobites in the East. As Abulfaragius lived in the 13th century, an age famous for miracles, it would seem strange if some had not been wrought by him, or in his behalf: he himself mentions two. One happened in Easter holidays, when he was consecrating the chrism or holy ointment; which, though before consecration it did not fill the vessel in which it was contained, yet increased so much after, that it would have run over, had they not immediately poured it into another. The other happened in 1285. The church of St. Barnagore having been destroyed by some robbers, Abulfaragius built a new one, with a monastery, in a more secure place, and dedicated it to the same saint; and as he desired the relics of the saint should be kept in the new church, he sent some persons to dig them out of the ruins of the old one: but they not finding the relics, the saint appeared to some Christians, and told them, if the primate himself did not come, they would never be found. Abulfaragius, hearing of this, would not believe it; and feigning to be sick, shut himself up in his cell from Friday till the Sunday evening; when a glorified boy appeared to him, and told him, the relics were deposited under the altar of the old church. Upon this the primate went immediately with his brother and two bishops in quest of those holy remains, which they found according to the boy’s direction.

, an eminent Spanish statesman, and cardinal, was born May 15, 1664. His birth and early employments afforded no presage of his future ambition and fame. He was the son of a gardener near Parma, and when a boy, officiated as bell-ringer, and attended upon the parish church of his village. The rector, finding him a shrewd youth, taught him Latin. Alberoni afterwards took orders, and had a small living, on which he resided. While here, M. Campistron, a Frenchman^ secretary to the duke of Vendome, who commanded Louis XIV's armies in Italy, was robbed, and stripped of his clothes and money, by some ruffians near Alberon^s village. Alberoni, hearing of his misfortune, took him into his house, furnished him with clothes, and gave him as much money as he could spare, for his travelling expences. Campistron, no less impressed with the strength of his understanding than with the warmth of his benevolence, took him to the head quarters, and presented him to his general, as a man to whom he haxi very great obligations.

, grand duke of Russia, and a saint of the Russian church, is so often mentioned on account of the order of knighthood instituted to his honour by Peter the Great, and yet is so little known out of Russia, that an article may well be allowed him here. He was born in 1218, and seems to have been a man of strong character, of personal courage, and bodily strength. The almost incessant wars in which his father Yaroslauf was engaged with Tshingis khan and the neighbouring horcles of Mongoies, inspired him early in life with a passion for conquest. Probably too an unhappy conceit entertained by the princes of those times and those countries, might have contributed somewhat to prepare Alexander for the part of the hero he. afterwards performed. This was the custom of conferring on young princes particular provinces as apanages or viceroyalties. Yaroslauf had in 1227 changed his residence at Novgorod for that of Pereyaslaf, leaving in the former place his two eldest sons, Feodor and Alexander, as his representative, under the guidance of two experienced boyars. However small the share that a boy of ten years old, as Alexander then was, could take in the government; yet it must have been of advantage to him to be thus initiated in a situation preparatory to the exercise of that power he was one day to enjoy in his own right. Five years afterwards Feodor died; and now Alexander was alone viceroy of Novgorod he was not an apanaged prince till 1239, when his father took possession of Vladimir. He now married a princess of the province of Polotzk, and the first care of his government was to secure the country against the attacks of the Tshudes (among whom are particularly to be understood the Esthonians), who were partly turbulent subjects, and partly piratical neighbours of the principality of Novgorod. To this end he built a line of forts along the river Shelonia, which falls into the Ilmenlake. But a more imminent danger soon furnished him with an opportunity of performing far greater service to his nation. Incited by the oppressions exercised by the Tartars on southern Russia, the northern borderers formed a league to subdue Novgorod; and thought it necessary to begin their enterprise the sooner, as, from the accounts they had received by one of their chiefs, who had gained a personal knowledge of Alexander at Novgorod, the young prince would shortly be too powerful for them. The warlike king of Denmark, Valdemar II. at that time possessed a considerable portion of Esthonia, together with Reval, which he had lately built . He had long been in alliance with the Teutonic knights of Livonia, which he renewed in 1233; ift which treaty they agreed upon a combined expedition against the Russians. This was accordingly undertaken in 1239. A very considerable fleet came to land on the banks of the Neva, while the Swedes were coming down from Ladoga to attack them by land. An embassy was sent to Alexander, commanding him immediately to submit, or to stake his fortunes on a decisive battle. He made choice of the latter. Too near the enemy, and too distant from his father, he had no hope of any foreign succour, and his army was extremely weak. In the presence of his people he solemnly implored the assistance of heaven, was certified of it by the formal benediction of the archbishop; and thus raised the efficacy of the only support he had, the courage of his soldiers. Having their strength increased by the persuasion that the hosts of heaven were on theic­'side, they went to battle, and began the attack. This was at six in the morning. The two armies were closely engaged during the whole day, and the slaughter continued till night put an end to the contest. The field was covered with the bodies of the slain. Three ship-loads of them were sunk in the sea, and the rest were thrown together in pits. On the side of the Novgorodians only 20 men were killed, say the chronicles; perhaps by an error of the writers, perhaps in the meaning that only the principal citizens of Novgorod are reckoned. But most likely this statement is one of those poeac extravagancies which are not to be mistaken in perusing the Russian accounts of this battle. In the ancient history of all nations a certain lively colouring is used in describing the decisive transactions of early times; a natural consequence of the intimate concern the chronologer takes in the successes of his conntry, and the enthusiasm with which he wishes to represent it as a nation of heroes. Thus the old historians mention six mighty warriors, who, by some signal act in this battle, have handed down their names to the latest posterity. It is impossible not to imagine we are perusing a fragment of romance, when we read, that Gavriela Alexiri pursued a king’s son on horseback into a ship, fell into the sea, came back unhurt, and slew a general and two bishops. Sbislauf was armed only with an axe, Jacob Polotshanin with nothing but a sword, and both killed a multitude of the ene r my. Sava rushed into the enemy’s camp, destroyed the tent of the general, &c. Alexander, our heroic saint, is also indebted to this poetical colouring (perhaps to a vulgar ballad) for his canonization and his fame. He sprung like a lion upon the leader of the hostile troops, and cleft his face in two with a stroke of his sword. This personage, according to the Russian annalists, was no less a man than the king of the northern regions himself. And this act it was that procured our Alexander the surname of Nevskoi, i.e. the conqueror on the banks of the Neva. Peter the Great took a politic advantage of the enthusiasm of the nation, for this Alexander, in order to procure a religious interest for his new city of Petersburg. On the spat where, according to the common opinion, the holy hero had earned the glorious name of Nevskoi, he caused the foundations of a monastery to be laid in 1712, to which he afterwards, in 1723, caused the bones of the great duke to be brought. Peter gave orders that the relics of the saints of Volodimer should be brought to Petersburg (a distance of 700 miles) attended by great solemnities. Between 300 and 400 priests accompanied the procession. On their arrival, the emperor himself, with all his court, went out to meet them; and the coffin, inclosed in a case of copper strongly gilt, was deposited in the monastery with great ceremony. This monastery of St. Alexander Nevskoi is about five versts from the castle at Petersburg, in an agreeable situation on the bank of the Neva. It has gradually been enlarged by the several sovereigns since the emperor Peter; and the present empress has built a magnificent church within its walls, and a sumptuous mausoleum for herself and her descendants. The shrine of the saint is of massy silver, of great value, but both the workmanship and the inscription in a bad taste. The order of knighthood of St. Alexander Nevskoi was properly instituted by Peter the Great in 1722; but he died before he had appointed the knights. This was done by Catherine I. in June 1725. The number of the knights are at present about 135, among whom are one or more crowned heads.

, a learned divine, was born in the year 1573, educated in the king’s school at Worcester, and from thence removed to Brazen-nose college, Oxford, 1589. He was elected a probationer fellow of Merton college in 1593. He afterwards went into orders; but, instead of preaching, he applied himself to the more abstruse and critical parts of learning. This recommended him to the esteem of sir Henry Savile, by whose interest he obtained a fellowship of Eton college in 1604, and whom he assisted in his elaborate edition of St. Chrysostom. While at Eton, he assisted the studies of Dr. Hammond, then a school-boy, particularly in the Greek language. He wrote “Observationes in libellum Chrysostomi in Esaiam.” He died Oct. 10, 1638, and was buried in Eton college chapel. He was a benefactor in books to the libraries of Brazen ­nose and Merton colleges.

, bishop of Auxerre and grand almoner of France, was born Oct. 1514, of an obscure family at Melun. The following particulars of his origin are from various authors. Variilas affirms, That at the age often years, Amyot was found lying sick in a ditch on the road to Paris, by a gentleman, who was so singularly compassionate, as to set him upon his horse, and carry him to a house, where he recovered, and was furnished with sixteen pence to bear his charges home. This goodness met with an ample reward, as Amyot left to the heirs of this early benefactor the sum of 1600 crowns a year. It is also said, that as Henry II. was making a progress through his kingdom, he stopt at a small inn in Berry to sup. After supper a young man sent in to his majesty a copy of Greek verses. The king, being no scholar, gave them to his chancellor to read, who was so pleased with them, that he desired him to order the boy who wrote them to come in. On inquiry he found him to be Amyot, the son of a mercer, and tutor to a gentleman’s son in that town. The chancellor recommended his majesty to take the lad to Paris, and to make him tutor to his children. This was complied with, and led to his future preferments.

, a man of great learning, whq raised himself from a low condition by his merit, his parents being so far from able to support him in his studies, that they themselves stood in need of charity, was born at Rome in 1540. He made a quick and most surprising progress in his studies; for when he was but ten years old, he could make verses upon any subject proposed to him; and these so excellent, though pronounced extempore, that it was commonly thought they exceeded those of the most studied preparation. A proof of this was at the table of the cardinal of Pisa, when he gave an entertainment one day to several other cardinals. Alexander Farnese, taking a nosegay, gave it to this youth, desiring him to present it to him of the company whom he thought most likely to be pope: he presented it to the cardinal of Medicis, and made an eulogium upon him in verse. This cardinal, who was pope some years afterwards, under the name of Pius IV. imagined it all a contrivance, and that the poem had been artfully prepared before-hand, by way of ridicule upon him. He therefore appeared hurt at it, but the company protested that it was an extempore performance, and requested him to make a trial of the boy: he did so, and was convinced of his extraordinary talents. According to Strada, as the cardinal of Medicis was thinking upon a subject for this purpose, the clock in the hall struck; which was the occasion of his proposing a clock for the subject of his verses. The duke de Ferrara coming to Rome, to congratulate Marcellus II. upon his being raised to the pontificate, was so charmed with the genius of Antoniano, that he carried hi:n to Ferrara, where he provided able masters to instruct him in all the sciences. From thence he was sent for by Pius IV. who recollecting the adventure of the nosegay, made inquiry for the young poet; and having found him, invited him to Rome, and gave hinvan honourable post in his palace, and some time after made him professor of the belles lettres in the college at Rome. Antoniano filled this place with so much reputation, that on the day when he began to explain the oration pro Marco Marcello, he had a crowd of auditors, and among these no less than twenty-five cardinals. He was afterwards chosen rector of the college; and after the death of Pius IV. being seized with a spirit of devotion, he joined himself to Philip Neri, and accepted the office of secretary to the sacred college, offered him by Pius V. which he executed for many years with the reputation of an honest and able man. He refused a bishopric which Gregory XIV. wculd have given him, but he accepted the office of secretary to the briefs, offered him by Clement VIII. who made him his chamberlain, and afterwards a cardinal. It is reported, that cardinal Alexander de Montalto, who had behaved a Hitle too haughtily to Antoniano, said, when he saw him promoted to the purple, that for the future he would not despise a man of the cassoc and little band, however low and despicable he might appear; since it might happen that he whom he had despised, might not only become his equal, but even his superior. His intense application is said to have hastened his death, Aug. 15, 1603. His printed works are, 1. “Dele 1 Educazione Cristiana de Figliuoli libri tre,” Verona, 1584, 4to, reprinted at Cremona and Naples. This work on education he wrote at the request of cardinal Borromeo. 2. “Orationes tredecim,” Rome, 1610, 4to, with a life of the author by Joseph Castalio. 3. Various discourses, letters, pieces of poetry, both Latin and Italian, in the collections.

Struck with the discovery, he retired to his study; and having perfected his system, began to introduce it into practice: the persons to whom he communicated it were brethren of his own monastery, from whom it met with but a cold reception, which, in the epistle to his friend, he ascribes probably to its true cause, envy: however, his interest with the abbot, and his employment in the chapel, gave him an opportunity of trying the efficacy of his method on the boys who were in training for the choral service, and it exceeded the most sanguine expectations. “To the admiration of all,” says cardinal Baronius, “a boy learnt thereby, in a few months, what no man, though of great ingenuity, could before that attain in several years.”

The master of St. John’s college at this time, Nicholas Medcalf, was a great encourager of learning, and his tutor, Mr. Hugh Fitzherbert, had not only much knowledge, but also a graceful and insinuating method of imparting it to his pupils. To a genius naturally prone to learning, Mr. Ascham added a spirit of emulation, which induced him to study so hard, that, while a mere boy, he made a great progress in polite learning, and became exceedingly distinguished amongst the most eminent wits in the university. He took his degree of B. A. on the twenty-eighth of February, 1534, when eighteen years* of age; and on the twenty-third of March following, was elected fellow of his college by the interest of the master, though Mr. Ascham’s propensity to the reformed religion had made it difficult for Dr. Medcalf, who, according to Ascham' s account, was a man of uncommon liberality, to carry his good intention into act. These honours served only to excite him to still greater vigilance in his studies, particularly in that of the Greek tongue, wherein he attained an excellency peculiar to himself, and read therein, both publicly for the university, and privately in his college, with universal applause. At the commencement held after the feast of St. Peter and St. Paul, in 1536, he was inaugurated M. A. being then twenty-one years old. By this time many of his pupils came to be taken notice of for their extraordinary proficiency, and William Grindall, one of them, at the recommendation of Mr. Ascham, was chosen by sir John Cheke, to be tutor to the lady Elizabeth. As he did not accept this honour himself, he probably was delighted with an academical life, and was not very desirous of changing it for one at court. His affection for his friends, though it filled him with a deep concern for their interests, and a tender regard for their persons, yet could not induce him to give up his understanding, especially in points of learning. For this reason he did not assent to the new pronunciation of the Greek, which his intimate friend, sir John Cheke, laboured, by his authority, to introduce throughout the university; yet when he had thoroughly examined, he came over to his opinion, and defended the new pronunciation with that zeal and vivacity which gave a peculiar liveliness to all his writings. In July 1542, he supplicated the university of Oxford to be incorporated M. A. but it & doubtful whether this was granted. To divert him after the fatigue of severer studies, he addicted himself to archcry, which innocent amusement drew upon him the censure of some persons, against whose opinion he wrote a small treatise, entitled “Toxophilus,” published in 1544, and dedicated to king Henry VIII. then about to undertake his expedition against Boulogne. This work was very kindly received and the king, at the recommendation of sir William Paget, was pleased to settle a pension of ten pounds (now probably in value one hundred) upon him, which, after that prince’s death, was for some time discontinued, but at length restored to him, during pleasure, by Edward VI. and confirmed by queen Mary, with an additional ten pounds per annum. Among other accomplishments he was remarkable for writing a very fine hand, and taught that art to prince Edward, the lady Elizabeth, the two brothers Henry and Charles, dukes of Suffolk, and several other persons of distinction, and for many years wrote all the letters of the university to the king, and to the great men at court. The same year that he published his book he was chosen university- orator, in the room of Mr. John Cheke, an office which gratified his passion for an academical life, and afforded him frequent opportunities of displaying his superior eloquence in the Latin and Greek tongues. In 1548, on the death of his pupil, Mr. Grindal, he was sent for to court, in order to instruct the lady Elizabeth in the knowledge of the learned languages, which duty he discharged for two years, with great reputation to himself, and with much satisfaction to his illustrious pupil. For some time he enjoyed as great comfort at court as he had done at college but at length, on account of some illjudged and ill-founded whispers, Mr.Ascham took such a distaste at some in the lady Elizabeth’s family, that he left her a little abruptly, which he afterwards heartily repented, and took great and not unsuccessful pains, to be restored to her good graces. On his returning to the university, he resumed his studies, and the discharge of his office of public orator, his circumstances being at this time tolerably easy, by considerable assistance from lovers of learning, and a small pension allowed him by king Edward, and another by archbishop Lee. In the summer of 1550, he went, into Yorkshire to visit his family and relations, but was recalled to court in order to attend sir Richard Morysine, then going ambassador to the emperor Charles V. Imia journey to London he visited the lady Jane Gray, at er father’s house at Broad gate in Leicestershire, with whm he had been well acquainted at court, and for whomie had already a very high esteem. In September followig, he embarked with sir R. Morysine for Germany, wherehe remained three years, during which he left nothing omitsd which might serve to perfect his knowledge of men as veil as books. As he travelled with an ambassador, he thought it became him to make politics some part of his study, ad how well he succeeded appears from a short but very cirious tract which he wrote, concerning Germany, and of he affairs of Charles V. He was also of great use to the anbassador, not only in the management of his public concerns, but as the companion of his private studies, vihich were for the most part in the Greek language. He read Herodotus, Sophocles, Euripides, and Demosthenes, three days in a week the other three he copied the letters which the ambassador sent to England. While thus employed, his friends in England, particularly sir William Cecil, procured for him the post of Latin secretary to king Edward. But this he did not enjoy long, being recalled on account of the king’s death, on which occasion he lost all his places, together with his pension, and all expectation of obtaining any farther favours at court. In this situation he was at first hopeless, and retired to the university to indulge his melancholy. But the prospect quickly became more promising. His friend the lord Paget mentioned him to Stephen Gardiner bishop of Winchester, lord high chancellor, who very frankly received him into his favour, notwithstanding Mr. Ascham remained firm to his religion, which was so far from being a secret to the bishop, that he had many malicious informations given him on that head, which he treated with contempt, and abated nothing in his friendship to our author. He first procured him the re-establishment of his pension, which consisted of but ten pounds a year, with the addition of ten pounds a year more he then fixed him in the post of Latin secretary to the king and queen, and, by her majesty’s interest and his own, kept him in the fellowship of St. John’s, and in his place of orator to the university, to Midsummer 1554. Soon after his admission to his new employment, he gave art extraordinary specimen of his abilities and diligence, by composing and transcribing, with his usual elegance, in three days, forty-seven letters to princes and personaes, of whom cardinals were the lowest. He was likewe patronised by cardinal Pole, who, though he wrote e;gant Latin, yet sometimes made use of Mr. Ascharn’s pn, particularly in translating his speech to the parliaBsnt, which he made as the pope’s legate, and of which Unslation he sent a copy to the pope. On the first of June 1554, Ascham married Mrs. Margaret Howe, a lady of a rood family, with whom he had a very, considerable fortme, and of whom he gives an excellent character, in one oi his letters to his friend Sturmius. His favour with qteen Mary’s ministers was not less than what he enjoyed frtm the queen herself, who conversed with him often, and was much pleased with his company. On her death, having been previously reconciled to the lady Elizabeth, he was immediately distinguished by her, now queen, and from his time until his death he was constantly at court, very fully employed in the discharge of his two great offices, the cne of secretary for the Latin tongue, and the other of tutor to her majesty in the learned languages, reading some hours with her every day. This interest at court would have procured a man of a more active temper many considerable advantages; but such was either Ascham’s indolence, or disinterestedness, that he never asked any thing, either for himself or his family, though he received several favours unsolicited, particularly the prebend of Westwang in the church of York, in 1559, which he held to his death. Yet however indifferent to his own affairs, he was very far from being negligent in those of his friends, for whom he was ready to do any good office in his power, and in nothing readier than in parting with his money, though he never had much to spare. He always associated with the greatest men of the court, and having once in conversation heard the best method of educating youth debated with some heat, he from thence took occasion, at the request of sir Richard Sackville, to write his “Schoolmaster,” which he lived to finish, but not to publish. His application to study rendered him infirm throughout his whole life, and at last he became so weak, that he was unable to read in the evenings or at night; to make amends for which, he rose very early in the morning. The year before his death he was seized with a hectic, which brought him very low and then, contrary to his former custom, relapsing into night-studies, in order to complete a Latin poem with which he designed to present the queen on the new year, he, on the 23d of December 1568, was attacked by an aguish ‘distemper, which threatened him with immediate death. He was visited in his last sickness by Dr. Alexander Nowell, dean of St. ’Paul’s, and Graves, vicar of St. Sepulchre’s, who found him perfectly calm and chearful, in which disposition he continued to the 30th of the same month, when he expired. On the 4th of January following, he was interred according to his own directions, in the most private manner, in St. Sepulchre’s church, his funeral sermon being preached by the before-mentioned Dr. Nowell. He was universally lamented, and even the queen herself not only shewed great concern, but was also pleased to say, that phg had rather have lost ten thousand pounds than her tutor Ascham. His only failing was too great a propensity to dice and cock-fighting, which the learned bishop Nicolson would persuade us to be an unfounded calumny; but as it is mentioned by Camden, as well as some other contemporary writers, it seems impossible to deny it. It is certain that he died in very indifferent circumstances, as may appear from the address of his widow to sir William Cecil, in her dedication of his “Schoolmaster,” wherein she says expressly, that Mr. Ascham left her a poor widow with many orphans; and Dr. Grant, in his dedication of Ascham’s letters to queen Elizabeth, pathetically recommends to her his pupil, Giles Ascham, the son of our author, representing, that be had lost his father, who should have taken care of his education, and that he was left poor and without friends. Besides this son he had two others, Dudley and Sturmur, of whom we know little. Lord Burleigh took Giles Ascham under his protection, by whose interest he was recommended to a scholarship of St. John’s, and afterwards by the queen’s mandate, to a fellowship of Trinity college in Cambridge, and was celebrated, as well as his father, for his admirable Latin style in epistolary writings.

, Viscount St. Alban'S, and highchancellor of England in the reign of James I. justly styled the glory and ornament of his age and nation, was the son of sir Nicholas Bacon, and Anne, the subject of the preceding article, and was born at York House, in the Strand, on the 22d of January 1560-1. He gave early proofs of a surprizing strength and pregnancy of genius, and when a mere boy, was distinguished by persons of worth and dignity for something far beyond his years. Queen Elizabeth, a very acute discerner of merit, was so charmed with the solidity of his sense and the gravity of fais behaviour, that she would often call him “her young lord keeper,” an office which he eventually reached, although not in her reign. When qualified for academicalstudies, he was sent to the university of Cambridge, where,. June 10, 1573, he was entered of Trinity college, under Dr. John Whitgift, afterwards archbishop of Canterbury, Such was his progress under this able tutor, and such the vigour of his intellect, that before he had completed his sixteenth year, he had not only run through the whole circle of the liberal arts, as they were then taught, but began, to perceive the imperfections of the reigning philosophy, and meditated that change of system which has since immortalized his name, and has placed knowledge upon its most firm foundation. Extraordinary as this may -appear, he was heard even at that early age, to object to the Aristotelian system, the only one then in repute, and to say, that his “exceptions against that great philosopher were not founded upon the worthlessness of the author, to whom he would ever ascribe all high attributes, but for the unfruitfulness of the way being a philosophy only for disputations and contentions, but barren in the production of works for the benefit of the life of man.”

, one of the promoters of the reformation in Scotland, was born at Kircaldy, in the county of Fife, in the reign of James V. and educated at the university of St. Andrew’s. He afterwards went to France, in order to complete his studies and, returning to Scotland, was admitted into the family of the earl of Arran, who at that time governed the kingdom; but in the year 1542 the earl dismissed him, for having embraced the Protestant religion. In 1546 he joined the murderers of cardinal Beaton, although without having been concerned in that act, yet for this he was declared a traitor, and excommunicated. Whilst that party were besieged in the castle of St. Andrew’s, they sent Balnaves lo England, who returned with a considerable supply of provisions and money but, being at last obliged to surrender to the French, he was sent, with the rest of the garrison, to France. He returned to Scotland about the year 1559, and having joined the congregation, he was appointed one of the commissioners to treat with the duke of Norfolk on the part of queen Elizabeth. In 1563 he was made one of the lords of session, and appointed by the general assembly, with other learned men, to revise the book of discipline. The celebrated reformer Knox, his contemporary, gives him the character of a very learned and pious divine, and we learn from Calderwood’s ms history, and from Sadler’s State Papers, that he raised himself by his talents and probity, from an obscure station to the first honours of the state, and was justly regarded as one of the principal supporters of the reformed cause in Scotland. It is added, that when a boy, he travelled to the continent, and hearing of a free school at Cologne, procured admission to it, and received a liberal education. He died at Edinburgh in 1579. It was during his confinement at Rouen in France that he wrote a treatise on justification, and the works and conversation of a justified man, which was revised hy Knox, who added a recommendatory dedication, and desired it might he printed. The ms. however, was not discovered until after Knox’s death, when it was published in 1584, 8vo, with the title of “Confession of Faith, &c. by Henry Balnaves, of Halhill, one of the lords of council, and lords of session.” According to Irvine, it was printed at Edinburgh, but M'Rie speaks of a London edition of the same date. Mackenzie erroneously divides it into two works, one “A treatise concerning Justification,” Edin. 1550, and the other, “A Catechism or Confession of Faith,” ib. 1584, From a poem subscribed Balnaves, having appeared in Ramsay’s collection, he has been ranked among the minor poets of Scotland.

He afterwards applied himself to the study of the fathers and the councils, of philosophy, mathematics, and above all, of astronomy. This boy, as he really was, formed schemes for finding the longitude, which he sent in January 1735, to the royal society at London; and, though these schemes had been already tried and found insufficient, yet they exhibited such a specimen of his capacity for mathematical learning, that the royal society of Berlin admitted him, the same year, as one of their members. Notwithstanding these avocations and amusements, he published, in 1735, the fourteenth year of his age, a learned theological work, entitled “Anti Artemonius” written against Samuel Crellius, who had assumed the name of Artemonius, and the subject is the text at the beginning of St. John’s gospel. In 1735 too, he went with his father to Halle, at which university he was offered the degree of M. A. or (as it is there termed) doctor in philosophy. Baratier drew up that night fourteen theses in philosophy and the mathematics, which he sent immediately to the press, and which he defended the next day so very ably, that all who heard him were delighted and amazed he was then admitted to his degree. He went also to Berlin, and was presented to the king of Prussia as a prodigy of erudition, who shewed him remarkable kindness, and conferred upon him great honours, but, not being very fond of men of letters, treated him, as some write, with a small tincture of severity. He asked him, for instance, by way of mortifying him, whether he knew the public law of the empire which being obliged to confess that he did not, “Go,” says the king, “and study it, before you pretend to be learned.” Baratier applied himself instantly to it, and with such success, that at the end of five months he publicly maintained a thesis in it.

, an eminent citizen and alderman of London of the last century, and many years one of its representatives in parliament, will not probably be thought undeserving of a lengthened notice, in these days of political delusion and imposture. He was born at Heading, in Berkshire, in 1685. His parents, who were of the people called Quakers, put him to a school at Wandsworth, in Surrey, which was solely appropriated to the education of persons of that profession. From this school, the master of which was of the same religious principles, young Barnard is said to have derived very iittle advantage in point of classical and polite literature. This loss, however, his native good sense, and love of knowledge, soon led him to supply, as far as possible, by carefully reading, in our own tongue, the best writers of Greece and Rome. By these means, though he could not be fully sensible of the elegance of the classic authors, which was, for the most part, lost in the translations of them, he became well acquainted with every remarkable sect, character, and action, in profane history. Such were the integrity and candour of his mind, when he was a boy, that his playmates used to choose him for their chancellor, in the disputes which they had with each other, and readily submitted to his decisions. When in the fifteenth year of his age, his father, who appears to have been settled in London, and had long been afflicted with bad health, determined to take him into his comptinghouse and, from observing his natural turn, assiduity, and talents, scrupled not to commit to his care the management of a great business in the wine trade, nor was he disappointed in the early confidence which he placed in his son. At this time our young gentleman took peculiar pleasure in the study of figures, which he pursued with such success, that his judgment was afterwards highly valued in affairs which required profound skill in calculation, and his knowledge as an able financier became undisputed. In the midst of these pursuits and engagements, he did not neglect the subject of religion. Some scruples having arisen in his mind with regard to the principles wherein he had been educated, he determined to apply himself to the devout study of the Bible, which he firmly believed to be the sole repository of divine truth. The result of his inquiries was, that he found himself called upon, by the dictates of his conscience, to make the painful sacrifice of openly renouncing the distinguishing tenets of his revered parents. For this purpose, he was introduced to doctor Compton, then bishop of London and, after several conferences with that prelate, was baptized by him, in his chapel at Fulham, 1703. Mr. Barnard was under nineteen years of age when he quitted the society of the Quakers; and from that time he continued, till his death, a member of the established church, an admirer of her liturgy, and an ornament to her communion. There was a peculiarity of character in the early part of his life, which deserves to be noticed. When he was a youth himself, he never chose to associate with those of his own age. Being convinced that he could derive no improvement from an acquaintance with them, he sought out companions among men distinguished by their knowledge, learning, and religion; and such men received, with open arms, a young person who discovered so much good sense and discernment.

Several good anecdotes are told of Barrow, as well of his great integrity, as of his wit, and bold intrepid spirit and strength of body. His early attachment to fighting when a boy is some indication of the latter; to which may be added the two following anecdotes: in his voyage between Leghorn and Smyrna, already noticed, the ship was attacked by an Algerine pirate, which after a stout resistance they compelled to sheer off, Barrow keeping his post at the gun assigned him to the last. And when Dr. Pope in their conversation asked him, “Why he did not go down into the hold, and leave the defence of the ship to those, to whom it did belong r” He replied, “It concerned no man more than myself: I would rather have lost my life, than to have fallen into the hands of those merciless infidels.”

, an author of some merit on the subject of education, was born at Hamburgh in 1723. His father appears to have been a person of a rigid temper, and so frequent in correcting his son with severity, as to drive him from home for a time, during which the boy served as a domestic in the house of a land-surveyor at Holstein. Being, however, persuaded to return, he was placed at the public school at Hamburgh, where he made himself respected by his talents, and the aid he was enabled to give to his indolent schoolfellows. When advanced to the higher class, he attended the lectures of professors Richey and Reimarus, from whose instructions, particularly those of Reimarus, he derived great improvement: but he afterwards allowed that he did not pay a regular attention to the sciences, and passed much of his time with indolent and dissolute companions. He had little disposition for study, and remained for some time undetermined in the choice of a profession. His father was ambitious that he should be a clergyman, and the means being provided, he went to Leipsic in 1744, to prosecute his studies particularly in theology. Here he continued for two years, attending the lectures of professor Crusius, who had begun to philosophize on religion; and these lectures, with the writings of Wolf, to which he also applied, induced a sceptical disposition, which more or less prevailed in all his writings and opinions during his life. In 1749, he was appointed private tutor to the son of a gentleman at Hoistein, and this situation gave him an opportunity of bringing to the test of experience, the plan of an improved method of education, which he had, for some time, in contemplation. The attempt succeeded to his wishes, and his pupil, who was only seven years old, when put under him, and could merely read the German language, became able in the space of three years, not only to read Latin authors, but to translate from the German into that language, and also to speak and write it with a degree of fluency. The young gentleman had also made considerable progress in the principles of religion and morals, in history, geography, and arithmetic.

, called the Cavalier Ber­NiN, and by some styled the modern Michael Angelo, because he united the knowledge and practice of painting, statuary, and architecture, owes his extensive reputation prinqipally to his excellence in the latter, branch. His father Peter Bernini, left Tuscany when young, and went to Rome to study painting and sculpture. Having acquired considerable skill in both, he removed to Naples, and practised with great success. There in, 15.98, his son, the subject of this memoir, was born, and from his earliest years discovered a surprising capacity for the fine arts, having at the age of eight executed a head in marble, which was considered as a prodigy. His father, desirous of cultivating so promising a genius, brought him to Rome, and imparted to him a taste for the great masters, which he never altogether lost, although in the sequel he did not follow their track. The pope expressed a desire to see this extraordinary child who had astonished the artists, and when introduced, asked him if he knew how to sketch a head, “Whose head” said Bernini. “You know then how to draw any let it be that of St. Paul,” replied the pope.' The boy performed the task before him in about half an hour, and the pope, enchanted with the specimen, recommended him warmly to cardinal Barberini, that celebrated patron of the arts. “Direct his studies,” added his holiness, “and he will become the Michael Angelo of the age.” About the same time, happening to be in St. Peter’s church, with Annibal Carrache, and some other celebrated artists, Carrache, looking to the cupola, said it would be very desirable to find a man of genius great enough to form and erect two objects in the middle, and at the end of that temple, which should correspond to its dimensions.“The young Bernini instantly exclaimed with enthusiasm,” Would I were that man," little thinking that one day he was to fulfil Carrache’s wish.

, a native of Venice, deserves some notice in a work of this description, on account of his poems, which were the production of nature, without any aid from instruction or cultivation. He lived about the middle of the last century, and was a gondolier or waterman’s boy when he wrote, 1. “II Davide, re d'Israele, poema-eroico-sagro, di Antonio Bianchi, servitor di gondola Veneziano, canto XII.” Venice, 1751, fol. and reprinted the same year with an oratorio entitled “Elia sur Carmelo,” ibid. 8vo. In this, although we do not find a strict attention to the laws of the epic, nor the most perfect purity of language, yet there are many truly poetical, nervous, and highly animated passages. The same may be said of his, 2. “II Tempio owero il Salomone, canti X.” Venice, 1753, 4to, with historical and theological notes, which are believed to be from the same pen. In his first poem, he promised two others, one a heroi-comic, under the title of “Cuccagna distrutta,” the other “La Formica contro il Leone,” but it does not appear that either was published. He gave, however, a specimen of his critical talents, in a volume entitled “Osservazioni contro-critiche di Antonio Bianchi, sopra un trattato della commedia Italiana, &c. Venice, 1752, 8vo. Joseph Antony Costantini, the author of this treatise on Italian comedy, wrote an answer, and asserted that the” Observations“were not written by Bianchi, and that the poem of David was not his. Bianchi, however, in the preface to his second poem,” The Temple of Solomon," offered every kind of proof that he was the author of both. We have no farther account of this extraordinary young man, although it is probable from the merit and character of his poems, that he found patrons who procured him leisure and competence.

His two sons were now entered on the foundation at the college near Winchester, and had both of them made such rapid progress in their education, that they gave him every possible satisfaction. The eldest was the senior scholar at 16 years of age, and was certain of succeeding at the next election to that goal of Wiccamical hope, a fellowship of New college, in Oxford; when, a few days prior to that sera, as he was bathing in the navigable river Itchin, in a place well known to every Winchester boy by the name of The Pot, he was seized with a cramp within two yards of the shore, in the presence of more than 100 expert swimmers, and his unfortunate younger brother, who was close to him at the moment, and sunk beneath the water never to appear again. His lifeless body was not found till half an hour had expired. All arts to re-animate him were tried in vain; and he was buried a few days after in the cloisters of Winchester college, amidst the tears of his afflicted companions.

, a Greek philosopher, who flourished 300 B.C. was born at Borysthenes, a Greek town on the borders of the river of that name, now the Dneiper. Of his family, he is said to have given the following account to king Antigonus, who had heard something of his mean birth, and thinking to embarrass him, demanded his name, his country, his origin, &c. Bion, without being in the least disconcerted, answered, “My father was a freed-man, whose employment was to sell salt-fish. He had been a Scythian, born on the banks of the Borysthenes. He got acquainted with my mother in a place of bad fame, and there the couple celebrated their hopeful marriage. My father afterwards committed some crime, with the precise nature of which I am unacquainted; and for this, he, his wife, and his children, were exposed to sale. I was then a sprightly boy. An orator purchased me and on his death, bequeathed to me all his effects. I instantly tore his will, threw it into the fire, and went to Athens, where I applied to the study of philosophy.” In this city he first attached himself to Crates, and became a cynic, and then embraced the opinions of Theodoras, the atheist, and Theophrastus, and at last became a philosopher in his own way, without belonging to any sect. The name of philosopher, however, seems ill applied to him. He uttered, indeed, some wise and moral sayings, but his general conduct was that of extreme profligacy. He died at Chalcis, and during his last illness, is said to have repented of his libertinism, for which he endeavoured to atone by superstitious observances. He wrote copiously on the subject of morals, and Stobeus has preserved a few fragments.

Though Dr. Blow’s church music was never collected in, a body, yet besides the three services and ten full and verse anthems printed by Boyce, nineteen of his choral productions have been preserved in Dr. Tudway’s ms collection and in Dr. Aldrich’s collection in Christ church, there are five more. He appears to have been a composer of anthems, even while a singing-boy in the chapel royal. His secular compositions were published in a folio volume in 1700, under the title of “Amphion Anglicus,” in imitation of Purcell’s collection, the “Orpheus Britannicus,” but are deemed considerably inferior. Some of his choral productions are in a very bold and grand style, yet he is unequal and frequently unhappy in his attempts at new harmony and composition. Dr. Burney has given a very elaborate criticism on all his works, accompanied by specimens on plates, by which it appears that he was either defective in some of the qualifications of a great composer, or careless and inaccurate.

, a celebrated French comic writer of native wit and genuine humour, was born at Vic in Auvergne in 1694. He came early to Paris, and began to write for the stage. The rest of his life is a moral. As has often been the fate of extraordinary favourites of the muses, though he laboured incessantly for the public, his works procured him only a competency of fame he wanted bread, and while the theatres and coffee-houses of Paris were ringing with plaudits on his uncommon talents to promote their mirth, he was languishing, with a wife and child, under the pressures of the extremest poverty. Yet, melancholy as his situation was, he lost nothing of that pride, which forbid him to creep and fawn at the feet of a patron. Boissi had friends, who would readily have relieved him; but they were never made acquainted with his real condition, or had not that friendly impetuosity which forces assistance on the modest sufferer. He at length became the prey of distress, and sunk into despondency. The shortest way to rid himself at once of his load of misery seemed to him to be death, on which he speculated with the despair of a man who has none of the consolations of religion. His wife, who was no less weary of life, listened with participation as often as he declaimed, in all the warmth of poetic rapture, on the topic of deliverance from this earthly prison, and the smiling prospects of futurity; till at length she took up the resolution to accompany him in death. But she could not bear to think of leaving her beloved son, of five years old, in a world of misery and sorrow; it was therefore agreed to take the child along with them, on their passage into another and a better, and they made choice of starving. To this end, they shut themselves up in their solitary and deserted apartment, waiting their dissolution with immovable fortitude. When any one came and knocked, they fled trembling into a corner, for fear of being discovered. Tneir little boy, who had not yet learned to silence the calls of hunger by artificial reasons, whimpering and crying, asked for bread; but they always found means to quiet him.

It occurred to one of Boissi’s friends, that it was very extraordinary he should never find him at home. At first he thought the family had changed their lodgings; but, on assuring himself of the contrary, he began to be alarmed. He called several times in one day, and at last burst open the door, when he saw his friend, with his wife and son, extended on the bed, pale and emaciated, scarcely able to utter a sound! The boy lay in the middle, and the husband and wife had their arms thrown over him. The child stretched out his little hands towards his deliverer, and his first word was Bread! It was now the third day that not a morsel of food had entered his lips. The parents lay still in a perfect stupor; they had never heard the bursting open of the door, and felt nothing of the embraces of their agitated friend. Their wasted eyes were directed towards the boy; and the tenderest expressions of pity were in the look with which they had last beheld him, and still saw him dying. Their friend hastened to take measures for their recovery; but could not succeed without difficulty. They thought themselves already far from the troubles of life, and were terrified at being suddenly brought back to them. Void of sense and reflection, they submitted to the attempts that were made to recall them to life. At length a thought occurred to their friend, which happily succeeded. He took the child from their arms, and thus roused the last spark of paternal and maternal tenderness. He gave the child to eat; who, with one hand held his bread, and with the other alternately shook his father and mother. It seemed at once to rekindle the love of life in their hearts, on perceiving that the child had left the bed and their embraces. Nature did her office. Their friend procured them strengthening broths, which he put to their lips with the utmost caution, and did not leave them till every symptom of restored life was fully visible.

, an eminent English musician, chapel-master and organist to George II. and III. was the son of William Boyce, a joiner and cabinet-maker, and housekeeper of Joiners’-hall, where our musician was born, B'eb. 7, 1710. He was at first a singing-boy at St. Paul’s, and afterwards apprenticed to the celebrated Dr. Greene, who bequeathed to him his manuscripts. In 1734 he was a candidate for the place of organist of St. Michael’s church, Cornhill, with Froud, Young, James Worgan, and Kelway; but though unsuccessful in this application, Kelway being elected, he was appointee! the same year to the place of organist of Oxford chapel and in 1736, upon the death of Weltlon, when Kelway being elected organist of St. Martin' sin the Fields, resigned his place at St. Michael’s Cornhill, Boyce was not only elected organist of that church, but organist and composer in the chapel royal. The same year he set David’s “Lamentation over Saul and Jonathan,” which was performed at the Apollo Society. About the year 1743, he produced his serenata of “Solomon,” which was not only long and justly admired as a pleasing and elegant composition, but still affords great delight to the friends of English music whenever it is performed. His next publication was “Twelve Sonatas or Trios for two violins and a base,” which were longer and more generally purchased, performed, and admired, than any productions of the kind in this kingdom, except those of CorelH. They were not only in constant use, as chamber music, in private concerts, for which they were originally designed, but in our theatres, as act-tunes, and public gardens, as favourite pieces, during many years.

On the 5th of August 1732, Mr. Boy dell was chosen alderman of London, for the ward of Cheap, in the room of alderman Crichton, deceased. In the year 1785 he served the office of sheriff; and in 1790, was chosen lord mayor of London, an office of which he discharged the duties and the honours with a diligence, uprightness, and liberality, that may be equalled, but will rarely be exceeded.

, a lexicographer and miscellaneous writer, was born June 13, 1667, at the city of Castres in Upper Languedoc. His great-grandfather and grandfather were masters of the riding-school at Nismes; his father was president of the supreme court at Castres, and his mother was Catherine, daughter of Campdomerius, a celebrated physician, circumstances which have been recorded to prove that he was of a good family. He was certainly of a conscientious one, his relations being exiles for their adherence to the protestant religion. He was first educated by his mother’s brother, Campdomerius, a noted divine and preacher of the reformed church, and then was sent to the protestant school at Puy Laurent, where he applied assiduously, and excelled all his schoolfellows in Greek and Latin. In 1685, when the persecution prevailed against the protestants in France, he followed his uncle to Holland, and pressed by want, was obliged to enter into the military service in 1687; but soon, by the advice of his relations, returned to his studies, and went to the university of Franeker, where he went through a regular course of education, and added to philosophy, divinity, history, &c. the study of the mathematics. In 1689 he came over to England, and the hopes of being able to return to France, which the protestants in general entertained, being disappointed, he was obliged to have recourse to his pen for a livelihood. His first employment appears to have been to transcribe and prepare for the press Camden’s letters from the Cotton ian library, for Dr. Smith, who afterwards published them. In 1692, he became French and Latin tutor to Allen Bathurst, esq. eldest son of sir Benjamin Bathurst, who, being much in favour with the princess Anne of Denmark, afterwards queen of Great Britain, he had hopes of some preferment at court. With this view he paid great attention to his pupil’s education (who was afterwards lord Bathurst), and for his use composed two compendious grammars, the one Latin, the other French; but the latter only was printed, and to this da,y is a standard book. His hopes of preferment, however, Appear to have been fallacious, which his biographer attributes to his siding with a different party from the Bathurst family in the political divisions which prevailed at that time in the nation, Boyer, like the rest of his countrymen who had fled hither for religion, being a zealous whig. After this, having made himself master of the English tongue, he became an author by profession, and engaged sometimes alone, and sometimes in conjunction with the booksellers, in various compilations, and periodical works of the political kind, particularly a newspaper called the “Post-Boy;” the “Political State of Great Britain,” published in volumes from 1710 to 1729 a “History of William III.” 3 vols. 8vo “Annals of the reign of Queen Anne,” 11 vols. 8vo, and a “Life of Queen Anne,” fol. all publications now more useful than when published, as they contain many state papers, memorials, &c. which it would be difficult to find elsewhere; but his name is chiefly preserved by his French Dictionary, 1699, 4to, and a French Grammar, of both which he lived to see several editions, and which still continue to be printed. His political principles involved him with Swift, who often speaks contemptuously of him, and with Pope, who has given him a place in the Dunciad. He died Nov. 16, 1729, at a house he had built in Five Fields, Chelsea, and was buried in Chelsea church-yard.

, a facetious preacher among the dissenters, whose oddities are still traditionary, was born in 1677, at Wakefield, in Yorkshire. His father belonged to a dissenting meeting at Alverthorp, near that town, of which Mr. Peter Naylor, an ejected minister, was pastor. Under his care, and at the free-school at Leeds, he received the first rudiments of learning. He was afterwards sent to an academy kept by Mr. Jollie, at Attercliffe. He began to preach at the early age of eighteen, about the year 1696, when his juvenile figure procured him some rebuffs, which he soon disregarded, and convinced his hearers that he was a boy only in appearance. His conquest over these remarks at this time seems to have formed an aera in his history, as he used to “bless God that from that hour he had never known the fear of man.” He soon after left the academy, and was taken into the family of Mr. Whitaker, who, according to his biographer, checked his ardour, at least so far that he preached but seldom. In 1697 he went to Beverley, where he continued two years, and then became assistant to Dr. Gilpin, at Newcastle-upon-Tyne, and remained there three years, with almost unbounded popularity. He then removed to Stepney, near London, and in 1707 was chosen pastor of a meeting in Fetter-lane, vacant by the death of Mr. Benoni Rowe. After preaching here to a crowded congregation for twenty years, a quarrel took place; about what, his biographer does not inform us; but Mr. Bradbury was immediately invited to succeed the noted Daniel Burgess, in the meeting at New-court, Carey-street, and in less than a fortnight exchanged his former for his latter pulpit, carrying with him such of his Fetter-lane hearers as adhered to him in the late contest. Here he succeeded Daniel Burgess as a wit as well as a divine, and his biographer gravely informs us, that “this pulpit a se*cond time presented a phenomenon as rare as it is beneficial, wit consecrated to the service of serious and eternal truth.” Of this wit, however, Mr. N. Neal, in a letter to Dr. Doddridge, (1749,) gives a different opinion. “I have seen Mr. Bradbury’s sermons, just published, the nonsense and buffoonery of which would make one laugh, if his impious insults over the pious dead did not make one tremble.” After entertaining the public by this species of comic preaching for thirty-two years, he died at Warwick-court, Gray’s-inn, Sept. 9, 1759, aged eighty-two. Of his character it is said, that “had he possessed as much judgment as quickness of wit, and as much temper as zeal, he would have been a man of much greater consideration. His usefulness was much abated after the Sailers’ -hall synod, for though he was warm on the orthodox side, his ill-conducted zeal did much mischief.” Among his other differences of opinion from his brethren, he made it his business in the pulpit to lampoon and satirize the hymns and psalms of Dr. Watts. It is said, indeed, that whentever he gave out one of the former, it was prefaced with “Let us sing one of Watts’s whims.” Among the numerous anecdotes of Tom Bradbury, as he was familiarly called, we shall give only the following, which contains some characteristic features. “Tom generally gave audience at supper-time, and the ceremony was thus conducted. On a little table lay two pocket bibles, one of which was taken up by Bradbury, and the other by his daughter, and each having read a portion, one of the visiting ministers was desired to pray: they then adjourned to supper; after which, Tom entertained the company with ‘ The roast beef of old England,’ which, it is said, he sung better than any man in England.” His printed works amply justify the character usually given of him, that with much zeal he was totally destitute of judgment, and regardless of the dignity of his sacred calling, dwelling perpetually on political topics, and enforcing them in a strain of ridicule totally unfit for the place in which he stood. These works consist of “Fifty-four Sermons,” 1762, in 3 volumes octavo, all of which, except seven, had been printed separately. They are principally of the political kind, and it was justly remarked of them at the time of publication, that " from the great number of satred texts applied to the occasion, one would imagine the bible was written only to confirm, by divine authority, the benefits accruing to this nation from the accession of king William III.

, an early English poet, was a native of Chester, where he was born about the middle of the fifteenth century. Discovering an early propensity to religion and literature, he was received, while a boy, into the monastery of St. Werbergh, in that city; and having there imbibed the rudiments of his education, he was sent afterwards to Gloucester college (now Worcester) in the suburbs of Oxford, where, for a time, he studied theology, with the novices of his order, and then returned to his convent at Chester: here in the latter part of his life, he applied himself chiefly to the study of history, and wrote several books. He died either in 1508, or in 1513. Before the year 1500, he wrote the “Life of St. Werburgh,” in English verse, declaring that he does not mean to rival Chaucer, Lydgate, Barklay, or Skelton, which two last were his contemporaries, and his versification is certainly inferior to Lydgate’s worst manner. This piece was first printed by Pinson in 1521, 4to. a volume of great rarity^ but amply analysed by Mr. Dibdin in his second volume of Typographical Antiquities, who thinks that he may stand foremost in the list of those of the period wherein he wrote. His descriptions are often happy as well as minute: and there is a tone of moral purity and rational piety in his thoughts, enriched by the legendary lore of romance, that renders many passages of his poem exceedingly interesting. It comprehends a variety of other subjects, as a description of the kingdom of the Mercians, the lives of St. Ethelred and St. Sexburgh, the foundation of the city of Chester, and a chronicle of our kings.

, a very celebrated astronomer, descended from a noble and illustrious Danish family, was born in 1546 at Knudstorp, a small lordship near Helsingborg, in Scania. His father, Otto Brahe, having a large family, Tycho was educated under the care and at the expence of his uncle George Brahe, who, having no children, adopted him as his heir. Finding his nephew a boy of lively capacity, and though only seven years of age, strongly inclined to study, he had him instructed in the Latin tongue unknown to his father, who considered literature as inglorious, and was desirous that all his sons should follow the profession of arms. In the twelfth year of his age, Tycho was removed to the academy of Copenhagen; and his mind, which, had not yet taken any direction, was casually incited to the study of astronomy by fin eclipse of the sun, which happened on. Aug. 21? 1560. He had for some time examined the astrological diaries or almanacks, which pretended to predict future events from the inspection of the stars; but when he observed that the eclipse happened at the precise time at which it was foretold, he considered that science 'as divine, which could thus so thoroughly understand the motions of the heavenly bodies as to foretel their places and relative positions: and from that moment he devoted himself to astronomy.

, a divine of great eminence for his extensive knowledge in Hebrew and rabbinical learning, was descended from an ancient family, and born in 1549, at Oldbury, in the county of Salop. Dr. Lightfoot says, that it is uncertain in what school he was instructed in grammar, but, according to the writers of the life of Bernard Gilpin, he was brought up in the school founded by that excellent man at Houghton, and by him sent to Cambridge. Gilpin is said to have become acquainted with him by accident, when he was a poor boy travelling on the Oxford road, and finding him a good scholar, took the charge of his farther education. The biographer of Gilpin adds, apparently upon slender foundation, that Broughton acted with ingratitude to Gilpin, when the latter was old and infirm, and persuaded the bishop of Durham to give him a living intended for Gilpin.

Without offering any objection to these remarks, it may still be necessary to remind the reader of a circumstance to which this excellent critic has not adverted, namely, that the Inner Temple Mask appears to have been exhibited about the year 1620, when Milton was a boy of only twelve years old, and remained in manuscript until Dr. Farmer procured a copy for the edition of 1772 and that Milton produced his Comus at the age of twenty-six. It remains, therefore, for some future conjecturer to determine on the probability of Milton’s having seen Browne’s manuscript in the interim.

“When you see Dr. Heberden, pray communicate to him. an unexpected honour I have lately received. The other day, word was brought me from below, that one sir William Browne sent up his name, and should be glad to kiss my hand. I judged it to be the famous physician, whom I had never seen, nor had the honour to know. When I came down into the drawing-room, I was accosted by a little, round, well-fed gentleman, with a large muff in one hand, a small Horace, open, in the other, and a spying-glass dangling in a black ribbon at his button. After the first salutation, he informed me that his visit was indeed to me; but principally, and in. the first place, to Prior-Park, which had so inviting a prospect from below; and he did riot doubt but, on examination, it would sufficiently repay the trouble he had given himself of coming up to it on foot. We then took our chairs; and the first thing he did or said, was to propose a doubt to me concerning a passage in Horace, which all this time he had still open in his hand. Before I could answer, he gave me the solution of this long-misunderstood passage; and, in support of his explanation, had the charity to repeat his own paraphrase of it in English verse, just come hot, as he said, from the brain. When this and chocolate were over, having seen all he wanted of me, he desired to see something more of the seat, and particularly what he called the monument, by which I understood him to mean the Prior’s tower. Accordingly, I ordered a servant to attend him thither, and when he had satisfied his curiosity, either to let him out from the Park above, into the Down, or from the garden below into the road. Which he chose, I never asked; and so this honourable visit ended. Hereby you will understand that the design of all this was to be admired. And indeed he had my admiration to the full; but for nothing so much, as for his being able at past eighty to perform this expedition on foot, in no good weather, and with all the alacrity of a boy, both in body and mind.” This portrait is correct in every thing but the age, sir William being only then (1767) seventy-five.

, the most eminent French naturalist of the eighteenth century, the son of a counsellor of the parliament of Dijon, was born at Moytbard in Burgundy, September the 7th, 1707. Having manifested an early inclination to the sciences, he gave up the profession of the law, for which his father had designed him. The science which seems to have engaged his earliest attachment was astronomy; with a view to which he applied with such ardour to the study of geometry, that be always carried in his pocket the elements of Euclid. At the age of twenty he travelled into Italy, and in the course of his tour he directed his attention to the phenomena of nature more than to the productions of art: and at this early period he was also ambitious of acquiring the art of writing with ease and elegance. In 1728 he succeeded to the estate of his mother, estimated at about 12,000l. a year; which by rendering his circumstances affluent and independent, enabled him to indulge his taste in those scientific researches and literary pursuits, to which his future life was devoted. Having concluded his travels, at the age of twenty-five, with a journey to England, he afterwards resided partly at Paris, where, in 1739, he was appointed superintend ant of the royal garden and cabinet, and partly on his estate at Montbard. Although he was fond of society, and a complete sensualist, he was indefatigable in his application, and is said to have employed fourteen hours every day in study; he would sometimes return from the suppers at Paris at two in the morning, when he was young, and order a boy to call him at five; and if he lingered in bed, to drag him out on the floor. At this early hour it was his custom, at Montbard, to dress, powder, dictate letters, and regulate his domestic concerns. At six he retired to his study, which was a pavilion called the Tower of St. Louis, about a furlong from the house, at the extremity of the garden, and which was accommodated only with an ordinary wooden desk and an armed chair. Within this was another sanctuary, denominated by prince Henry of Prussia “the Cradle of Natural History,” in which he was accustomed to compose, and into which no one was suffered to intrude. At nine his breakfast, which consisted of two glasses of wine and a bit of bread, was brought to his study; and after breakfast he wrote for about two hours, and then returned to his house. At dinner he indulged himself in all the gaieties and trifles which occurred at table, and in that freedom of conversation, which obliged the ladies, when any of character were his guests, to withdraw. When dinner was finished, he paid little attention either to his family or guests; but having slept about an hour in his room, he took a solitary walk, and then he would either converse with his friends or sit at his desk, examining papers that were submitted to his judgment. This kind of life he passed for fifty years; and to one who. expressed his astonishment at his great reputation, he replied, “Have not I spent fifty years at my clesk?” At nine he retired to bed. In this course he prolonged his life, notwithstanding his excessive indulgences with women, and his excruciating sufferings occasioned by the gravel and stone, which he bore with singular fortitude and patience, to his 81st year; and retained his senses till within a few hours of his dissolution, which happened on the 16th of April, 1788. His body was embalmed, and presented first at St. Medard’s church, and afterwards conveyed to Mont-bard, where he had given orders in his will to be interred in the same vault with his wife. His funeral was attended by a great concourse of academicians, and persons of rank, and literary distinction; and a crowd of at least 20,000 spectators assembled in the streets through which the hearse was to pass. When his body was opened, 57 stones were found in his bladder, some of which were as large as a small bean: and of these 37 were crystallized in a triangular form, weighing altogether two ounces and six drams. All his other parts were perfectly sound; his brain was found to be larger than the ordinary size; and it was the opinion of the gentlemen of the faculty who examined the body, that the operation of the lithotomy might have been performed without the least danger; but to this mode of relief M. Buffon had invincible objections. He left one son, who fell a victim to the atrocities under Robespierre. This son had erected a monument to his father in the gardens of Montbard; which consisted of a simple column, with this inscription:

It was between the fifteenth and sixteenth year of his age, that Robert, as he himself informs us, first “committed the sin of rhyme.” Having formed a boyish affection for a female who was his companion in the toils of the field, he composed a song, which is inserted in his works; but which, however extraordinary from one at his age, and in his circumstances, is far inferior to any of his subsequent performances. He was at this time “an ungainly, awkward boy,” unacquainted with the world, but who occasionally had picked up some notions of history, literature, and criticism, from the few books within his reach. These, he informs us, were Salmon’s and Guthrie’s Geographical Grammars, the Spectator, Pope’s Works, some plays of Shakspeare, Tull and Dickson on Agriculture, the Pantheon, Locke’s Essay on the Human Understanding, Stackhouse’s History of the Bible, Justice’s British Gardener’s Directory, Boyle’s Lectures, Allan Ramsay’s Works, Taylor’s Scripture Doctrine of Original Sin, a Select Collection of English Songs, and Hervey’s Meditations. Of this motley assemblage, it may readily be supposed, that some would be studied, and some read superficially. There is reason to think> however, that he perused the works of the poets with such attention, as, assisted by his naturally vigorous capacity, soon directed his taste, and enabled him to discriminate tenderness and sublimity from affectation and bombast.

As to his character, we are told by those who had the best opportunities of knowing him, that he was acquainted with all parts of learning, especially Philology; and of his skill in grammar, his works are sufficient proof. Notwithstanding his being the greatest master of it, he was the freest man in the world from that pedantic humour and carriage which hath made some of that profession ridiculous to the more sensible part of the world. No one ever trained up a greater number of eminent men, both in church and state, than himself; which was a plain demonstration of his uncommon skill and diligence in his profession. He extremely liked, and even applauded, and rewarded, wit in any of his scholars, though it reflected upon himself; of which many instances, are still remembered. We are farther told, that there was an agreeable mixture of seventy and sweetness in his manners; so that if his carriage was grave, it was at the same time full of good-nature, as his conversation was always modest and learned; but in his school he was extremely severe, and his character in this respect, probably exaggerated by tradition, is become almost proverbial. Several letters, however, from his scholars have been lately discovered, by which it appears that he was much beloved by them. His piety was unfeigned and without affectation, and his steadfast zeal to the church^ and loyalty to the crown, were eminent, and not without trials in the worst of times. But his greatest virtue was chanty; in the discharge of which none ever took more care that his right hand should not know what his left did. As to his constitution of body, he was healthy to such a degree, that his old age proved altogether free from those diseases and infirmities which most commonly attend other persons: and as this was the consequence and reward of his chastity, sobriety, and temperance, so he spent this bodily strength altogether upon his indefatigable labours, in the education of youth in Westminster-school; which he never remitted till he was released of it by death, ‘to which he submitted with the utmost constancy and patience. Mr. Seward informs us that he is said not to have allowed notes to any classical author that was read at Westminster. According to the late Dr. Johnson, Busby used to declare that his rod was his sieve, and that whoever J c’ould not pass through that was no boy for him. He early discovered the genius of Dr. South, lurking, perhaps, under idleness and obstinacy. “I see,” said he, “great talents in that sulky boy, and I shall endeavour to bring them out,” which he is said to have effected by means of very great severity. When the rev. Philip Henry, who was one of his scholars, requested leave to attend the nonconformist morning lecture at Westminster abbey, Busby granted his, or rather his mother’s request, but did not suffer him to abate any part of his school-tasks. Henry says he never punished him but once, and that for telling a lie, and appointed him also to make a penitential copy of Latin verses, which When he brought, he gave him sixpence, and received him 'into favour. Henry farther informs us of the great pains Dr. Busby took with his scholars when they were to partake of the sacrament. When afterwards Henry was ejected for non-conformity, his old master said, “Prithee, child, who made” thee a non-conformist?“to which Henry answered,” Truly, sir, you made me one, for you taught me those things that hindered me from conforming.“Many of Busby’s witticisms are in circulation. His biographers give us the following: Once, in a large company, he sat at table between Mrs. South and Mrs. Sherlock, when the conversation turned upon wives. Dr. Busby said that he believed wives, in general, were good;” though, to be sure, there might be a bad one here, and a bad one there." The late Mr. Duncombe informed the editors of the Biographia Brit, that the face on Dr. Busby’s monument is said to have been copied from a cast taken after his death, as he would never sit for his picture; if so, whence came the portraits of him in Christ Church, Oxford?

His perpetual application to figures prevented him from making the smallest acquisition in any other branch of knowledge; for, beyond mere calculation, his ideas were as confined, perhaps, as those of a boy at ten years of age in the same class of life. The only objects of Jedediah’s curiosity, next to figures, were the king and royal family; and his desire to see them was so strong, that in the beginning of spring, 1754, he walked up to London for that purpose, but was obliged to return disappointed, as his majesty had removed to Kensington just as he arrived in town. He was however introduced to the royal society, whom he called the volk of the siety court. He was likewise taken to see the tragedy of Richard III. at Drury-lane, and it was expected that the novelty of every thing in this place, together with the splendour of the surrounding objects, would have fixed him in astonishment, or that his passions would in some degree have been roused by the action of the performers, even if he did not fully comprehend the dialogue. Instead of this, during the dances his attention was engaged in reckoning the number of steps. After a fine piece of music, he declared that the innumerable sounds produced by the instruments perplexed him beyond measure, but he counted the words uttered by Mr. Garrick in the whole course of the entertainment, and affirmed that in this he had perfectly succeeded. He lived to about seventy years of age, but the exact time of his death we cannot learn. He was married, and had several children.

, an ingenious Roman catholic writer, was born in London in 1540, and educated at Christ’s hospital. Being a boy of great parts, he was selected while at school, to make an oration before queen Mary at her accession to the crown; and from thence elected scholar of St. John’s college in Oxford by Thomas White, the founder of it, in 1553. He took his degrees of B. and M. A. regularly, and afterwards went into orders. In 1566, when queen Elizabeth was entertained at Oxford, he made an oration before her, and also kept an act in St. Mary’s church, with very great applause from that learned queen. In 1568, he went into Ireland, where he wrote a history of that country in two books; but being then discovered to have embraced the popish religion, and to labour for proselytes, he was seized and detained for some time. He escaped soon after into England; but in 1571 transported himself into the Low Countries, and settled in the English college of Jesuits at Doway, where he openly renounced the protestant religion, and had the degree of B. D. conferred upon him. From thence he went to Rome, where he was admitted into the society of Jesuits in 1573; and afterwards sent by the general of his order into Germany. He lived for some time in Brune, and then at Vienna where he composed a tragedy, called “Nectar and Ambrosia,” which was acted before the emperor with great applause. Soon after he settled at Prague in Bohemia, and taught rhetoric and philosophy for about six years in a college of Jesuits, which had been newly erected there. At length being called to Rome, he was sent by the command of pope Gregory XIII. into England, where he arrived in June 1580. Here he performed all the offices of a zealous provincial, and was diligent in propagating his religion by all the arts of conversation and Writing. He seems to have challenged the English clergy to a disputation, by a piece entitled “Rationes decem oblati certaminis in causa fidei, redditse academicis Angliae,” which was printed at a private press in 1581; and many copies of which, as Wood tells us, were dispersed that year in St. Mary’s church at Oxford, during the time of an act. It was afterwards printed in English, and ably refuted by the English divines. In short, Campian, though nobody knew where he was, was yet so active as to fall under the cognizance of Walsingham, secretary of state; and Walsingham employed a person to find him out. He was at last discovered in disguise at the house of a private gentleman in Berks, from whence he was conveyed iiv great procession to the Tower of London, with a paper fastened to his hat, on which was written “Edmund Campian, a most pernicious Jesuit.” Afterwards, having been found guilty of high treason in adhering to the bishop of Rome, the queen’s enemy, and in coming to England todisturb the peace and quiet of the realm, he was hanged and quartered, with other Romish priests, at Tyburn, December 1, 1581.

, a native of Tipperary in Ireland, lived principally in Paris, where he was made doctor in medicine in 1742. The same year he published a translation into French of the account of Mrs. Stephens’s medicine for dissolving the stone in the bladder; and in 1746 an account of sir Hans Sloane’s medicines for diseases of the eyes; also some severe strictures on the practice of propagating the small pox by inoculation; and in the Philosophical Transactions, London, No. 453, an account of a double child, a boy. He died at Paris, July 11, 1764.

, a Latin poet, lived about the year 490 of the vulgar aera. He is thought to have been an African and proconsul. We have a poem of his mixed with prose, entitled “De nuptiis Philologiae et Mercurii, et de septem artibus liberalibus.” Grotius, at the age of only fourteen years, gave a good edition of this production in 1599, in 8vo, with notes and corrections. He restored numberless corrupted passages, with a sagacity truly wonderful in a boy of his age. That part which treats of music has been most noticed by inquirers into the history of that art.

, son of the preceding, was born at Geneva, August 14, 1599, and had the name of Meric from Meric de Vicq, a great friend and benefactor to his father. His first education he received at Sedan, but coming to England with his father, in the year 1610, he was instructed by a private master till 1614, when he was sent to Christ Church, Oxford; and being put there under a most careful tutor, Dr. Edward Meetkirk (afterwards Regius Hebrew professor), was soon after elected a student of that house. He took the degree of bachelor of arts, May 8, 1618, and that of master, June 14, 1621, being even then eminent for his extensive learning; and the same year, though he was but two and twenty, he published a book in defence of his father, against the calumnies of certain Roman catholics, entitled “Pietas contra maledicos, &c.” Loud. 1621, 8vo. This book made him known to king James I. who ever after entertained a good opinion of him; and also brought him into reputation abroad, especially in France, whither he was invited with offers of promotion, when his godfather, Meric de Vicq, was keeper of the great seal of that kingdom. Three years after, he published another vindication of his father, written by the command of king James I. and entitled, “Vindicatio Patris, &c.” 1624, 4to. About that time he was collated by Dr. Lancelot Andrews, bishop of Winchester, to the rectory of Bledon in Somersetshire; and June 1628, took the degree of bachelor of divinity. He had now formed the design of continuing his father’s “Exercitations against Baronius’s Annals,” but was diverted by some accident. At length, when he came to maturity of years for such a work, and had acquainted archbishop Laud, his great friend and patron, with his design, who was very ready to place him conveniently in Oxford or London, according to his desire, that he might be furnished with books necessary for such a purpose, the rebellion broke out in England. Having now no fixed habitation, he was forced to sell a good part of his books; and, after about twenty years’ sufferings, became so infirm, that he could not expect to live many years, and was obliged to relinquish his design. Before this, however, in June 1628, he was made prebendary of Canterbury, through the interest of bishop Laud; and when that prelate was promoted to the archbishopric of Canterbury, he collated him, in Oct. 1634, to the vicarage of Minster, in the Isle of Thanet; and in the same month, he was inducted into the vicarage of Monckton, in that island. In August 1636, he was created doctor in divinity, by order of king Charles I. who was entertained at the same time, with his queen, by the university of Oxford. About the year 1644, during the heat of the civil wars, he was deprived of his preferments, abused, fined, and imprisoned. In 1649, one Mr. Greaves, of Gray’s inn, an intimate acquaintance of his, brought him a message from Oliver Cromwell, then lieutenant-general of the parliament forces, desiring him to come to Whitehall, on purpose to confer with him about matters of moment; but his wife being lately dead, and not, as he said, buried, he desired to be excused. Greaves came again afterwards, and Dr. Casaubon being somewhat alarmed, desired him to tell him the meaning of the matter; but Greaves refusing, went away the second time. At length he returned again, and told him, that the lieutenant-general intended his good and advancement; and his particular errand was, that he would make use of his pen to write the history of the late war; desiring withal, that nothing but matters of fact should be impartially set down. The doctor answered, that he desired his humble service and hearty thanks should be returned for the great honour done unto him; but that he was uncapable in several respects for such an employment, and could not so impartially engage in it, as to avoid such reflections as would be ungrateful, if not injurious, to his lordship. Notwithstanding this answer, Cromwell seemed so sensible of his worth, that he acknowledged a great respect for him; and, as a testimony of it, ordered, that upon the first demand there should be delivered to him three or four hundred pounds, by a bookseller in London, whose name was Cromwell, whenever his occasions should require, without acknowledging, at the receipt of it, who was his benefactor. But this ofter he rejected, although almost in want. At the same time, it was proposed by Mr. Greaves, who belonged to the library at St. James’s, that if our author would gratify him in the foregoing request, Cromwell would restore to him all his father’s books, which were then in the royal library, having been purchased by king James; and withal give him a patent for three hundred pounds a year, to be paid to the family as long as the youngest sou of Dr. Casaubon should live, but this also was refused. Not long after, it was intimated to him, by the ambassador of Christiana, queen of Sweden, that the queen wished him to come over, and take upon him the government of one, or inspection of all her universities; and, as an encouragement, she proposed not only an honourable salary for himself, but offered to settle three hundred pounds a year upon his eldest son during life: but this also he waved, being fully determined to spend the remainder of his days in England. At the restoration of king Charles II. he recovered his preferments; namely, his prebend of Canterbury in July 1660, and his vicarages of Monckton and Minster the same year: but, two years after, he exchanged this last for the rectory of Ickham, near Canterbury, to which he was admitted Oct. 4, 1662. He had a design, in the latter part of his days, of writing his own life; and would often confess, that he thought himself obliged to do it, out of gratitude to the Divine Providence, which had preserved and delivered him from more hazardous occurrences than ever any man (as he thought) besides himself had encountered with; particularly in his escape from a fire in the night-time, which happened in the house where he lived, at Geneva, while he was a boy: in his recovery from a sickness at Christ Church, in Oxford, when he was given over for dead, by a chemical preparation administered to him by a young physician: in his wonderful preservation from drowning, when overset in a boat on the Thames near London, the two watermen being drowned, and himself buoyed up by his priest’s coat: and in his bearing several abuses, fines, imprisonments, &c. laid upon him by the republicans in the time of his sequestration: but this he did not execute. He died July 14, 1671, in the seventy-second year of his age, and was buried in the south part of the first south cross aile of Canterbury cathedral. Over his grave was soon after erected a handsome monument with an inscription. He left by will a great number of manuscripts to the university of Oxford. His character is thus represented. He was a general scholar, but not of particular excellence, unless in criticism, in which probably he was assisted by his father’s notes and papers. According to the custom of the times he lived in, he displays his extensive reading by an extraordinary mixture of Greek and Latin quotations and phrases. He was wont to ascribe to Descartes’s philosophy, the little inclination people had in his time for polite learning. Sir William Temple very highly praises his work, hereafter mentioned, on “Enthusiasm;” and unquestionably it contains in any curious and learned remarks; buthisbeingamaintainer of the reality of witches and apparitions, shews that he was not more free from one species of enthusiasm than most of his contemporaries. In his private character he was eminent for his piety, charity to the poor, and his courteous and affable disposition towards scholars. He had several children, but none made any figure in the learned world; one, named John, was a surgeon at Canterbury .

, commonly called Cato Minor, or Cato of Utica, was great-grandson of Cato the censor. It is said, that from his infancy he discovered an inflexibility of mind, and a disposition to go through whatever he undertook, even though the task was ill-suited to his strength. He was rough towards those that flattered him, and quite intractable when threatened; was rarely seen to laugh, or even to smile; was not easily provoked to anger, but, if once incensed, hard to be pacified. Sylla, having had a friendship for the father of Cato, sent often for him and his brother, and talked familiarly with them. Cato, who was then about fourteen years of age, seeing the heads of great men brought there, and observing the sighs of those that were present, asked his preceptor, “Why does no body kill this man?” “Because,” said the other, “he is more feared than he is hated.” The boy replied, “Why then did you not give me a sword when you brought me hither, that I might have stabbed him, and freed my country from this slavery?”

Being harshly treated by those to whose care she was committed after the death of her mother, she resolved, whilst very young, to quit the country, and to go up to London to seek her fortune. The circumstances of her life at this period are involved in much obscurity, and the particulars which are related seem somewhat romantic. It is said that she attempted her journey to the capital alone, and on foot, and on her way thither was met by Anthony Hammond, esq. father of the author of the “Love Elegies.” This gentleman, who was then a member of the university of Cambridge, was struck with her youth and beauty, and offered to take her under his protection. Her distress and inexperience inducing her to comply with his proposal, she accompanied him to Cambridge, where, having equipped her in boy’s clothes, he introduced her to his intimates at college, as a relation who was come down to see the university, and to pass some time with him. Under this disguise an amorous intercourse was carried on between them for some months; but at length, being probably apprehensive that the affair would become known in the university, he persuaded her to go to London. He provided her, however, with a considerable sum of money, and recommended her by letter to a lady in town with whom he was acquainted. He assured her at the same time, that he would speedily follow her, and renew their connection. This promise appears not to have been performed: but notwithstanding her unfavourable introduction into life, she was married in her sixteenth year to a nephew of sir Stephen Fox, who did not live more than a twelvemonth after their marriage; but her wit and personal attractions soon procured her another husband, whose name was Carrol, who was an officer in the army, but who was killed in a duel about a year and a half after their marriage, when she became a second time a widow She is represented as having a sincere attachment to Mr. Carrol, and consequently as having felt his loss as a severe affliction.

, was born at Paris in 1717, and destined to supply his father’s place in the parliament of that city as a judge, as well as that of his uncle in the same situation. He made choice of the one of them that would give him the least trouble, and afford him the most leisure for his benevolent projects. Medicine was his favourite study. This he practised on the poor only, with such an ardour and activity of mind, that the hours which many persons give to sleep, he bestowed upon the assistance of the sick. To make himself more useful to them, he had learned to bleed, which operation he performed with all the dexterity of the most experienced surgeon. His disposition to do good appeared so early that when he was a boy, he used to give to the poor the money which other boys spent in general in an idle and unprofitable manner. He was once very much in love with a young lady of great beauty and accomplishment; but imagining that she would not make him a suitable assistant in his attendance upon the poor, he gave over all thoughts of marriage; not very wisely, perhaps, sacrificing to the extreme delicacy of one woman only his attachment to that sex, in whose tenderness of disposition, and in whose instinctive quickness of feeling, he would have found tluufc reciprocation of benevolence he was anxious to procure. He was so forcibly struck with the wretched situation of the great hospital of Paris (the Hotel Dieu, as it is called), where the dead, the dying, and the living, are very often crowded together in the same bed (five persons at a time occasionally occupying the same bed), that he wrote a plan of reform for that hospital, which he shewed in manuscript to the famous John James Rousseau, requesting him to correct it for him. “What correction,” replied Rousseau, “can a work want, that one cannot read without shuddering at the horrid pictures it represents? What is the end of writing if it be not to touch and interest the passions?” M. de Chamousset was occasionally the author of many benevolent and useful schemes; such as the establishment of the penny post at Paris; the bringing good water to that city; a plan for a house of association, by which any man, for a small sum of money deposited, may be taken care of when he is sick; and many others; not forgetting one for the abolition of begging, which is to be found in “Lesvues d'uncitoyen.” M. de Chamousset was now so well known as a man of active and useful benevolence, that M. de Choiseul (when he was in the war department) made him, in 1761, intendant-general of the military hospitals of France, the king, Louis XV. telling him, “that he had never, since he came to the throne, made out an appointment so agreeable to himself;” and added, “I am sure I can never make any one that will be of such service to my troops.” The pains he took in this employment were incredible. His attention to his situation was so great, and conducted with such good sense and understanding, that the marshal de Soubise, on visiting one of the great military hospitals at Dusseldorf, under the care of M. de Chamousset, said, “This is the first time I have been so happy as to go round an hospital without hearing any complaints.” Another marshal of France told his wife: “Were I sick,” said he, “I would be taken to the hospital of which M. de Chamousset has the management.” M. de Chamousset was one day saying to the minister, that he would bring into a court of justice the peculation and rapine of a particular person. “God forbid you should!” answered the minister, “you run a risk of not dying in your bed.” “I had rather,” replied he, “die in any manner you please, than live to see my country devoured by scoundrels.”

He died in 1634, at the age of seventy-seven, and was buried on the south side of St. Giles’s church in the Fields. His friend Inigo Jones planned and erected a monument to his memory, which was unfortunately destroyed with the old church. He appears to have been much respected in his own time; and, indeed, the man who communicated Homer to his countrymen, even in such language as that of Chapman, might justly be considered as their benefactor; and in estimating the merit of his version, candid allowance ought to be made for the age in which he lived, and the then unimproved state of our language. Of this translation Mr. Warton says, Chapman “is sometimes paraphrastic and redundant, but more frequently retrenches or impoverishes what he could not feel and express. In the mean time he labours with the inconvenience of an aukward, inharmonious, and unheroic measure, imposed by custom, but disgustful to modern ears. Yet he is not always without strength or spirit. He has enriched our language with many compound epithets, much in the manner of Homer, such as the silver-footed Thetis, the silver-thorned Juno, the triple-feathered helme, the highwalled Thebes, the fair-haired boy, the silver-flowing floods, the hugely-peopled towns, the Grecians navy-bound, the strong-winged lance, and many more which might be collected. Dryden reports, that Waller never could read Chapman’s Homer without a degree of transport. Pope is of opinion that Chapman covers his defects by a daring fiery spirit, that animates his translation, which is something like what one might imagine Homer himself to have written before he arrived to years of discretion.' But his fire is too frequently darkened by that sort of fustian which now disfigured the face of our tragedy.” Mr. Warton’s copy once belonged to Pope in which he has noted many of Chapman’s absolute interpolations, extending sometimes to the length of a paragraph of twelve lines. A diligent observer will easily discern that Pope was no careless reader of his rude predecessor. Pope complains that Chapman took advantage of an unmeasureable length of line but in reality, Pope’s lines are longer than Chapman’s. If Chapman affected the reputation of rendering line for line, the specious expedient of chusing a protracted measure which concatenated two lines together, undoubtedly favoured his usual propensity to periphrasis. — As a dramatic writer, he had considerable reputation among his contemporaries, and was justly esteemed for the excellence of his moral character. Wood says that he was a person of most reverend aspect, religious and temperate, qualities rarely meeting in a poet."

was youngest daughter of CoUey Cibber the player, and afterwards poet-laureat. At eight years old she was put to school, but had an education more suitable to a boy than a girl; and as she grew up, followed the same plan, being more frequently in the stable than in the bed-chamber, and mistress of the curry-comb, though ignorant of the needle. Her very amusements all took the same masculine turn shooting, hunting, riding races, and digging in a garden, being ever her favourite exercises. She also relates an act of her prowess when a mere child, in protecting the house when in expectation of an attack from thieves, by the firing of pistols and blunderbusses out at the windows. All her actions seem to have had a boyish mischievousness in them, and she sometimes appears to have run great risque of ending them with the most fatal consequences. This wildness, however, was put some check to, by her marriage, when very young, with Mr. Richard Charke, an eminent performer on the violin; immediately after which she launched into the billows of a stormy world, where she was, through the remainder of her life, buffeted about without ever once reaching a peaceful harbour. Her husband’s insatiable passion for women soon gave her just cause of uneasiness, and in a short time appears to have occasioned a separation.

His next removal was to Colston’s charity school, at the age of eight years, where he was taught reading, writing, and arithmetic, at the daily rate of nine hours in summer, and seven in winter. Such at least was the prescribed discipline of the school, although it was far more than a boy of his capacity required. One of his masters, Phillips, whom he has celebrated in an elegy, was a frequent writer of verses in the magazines, and was the means of exciting a degree of poetical emulation among his scholars, but to this Chatterton appeared for some time quite indifferent. About his tenth year he began to read from inclination sometimes hiring his books from a circulating library, and sometimes borrowing them from his friends; and before he was twelve, had gone through about seventy volumes, principally history and divinity. Before this time also he had composed some verses, particularly those entitled “Apostate Will” which, although they bear no comparison with what he afterwards produced, discover at that early age a disposition to personal satire, and a consciousness of superior sense. It would be more remarkable, were it true, that while at this school he is said to have shown to his master Phillips, one of those mawuscripts which he pretended had been found in a chest in Redcliffe church, but as neither Phillips or another person to whom this treasure was exhibited, could read it, the commencement of his Rowleian impostures must be postponed to a future period.

His first literary attempts by which he was to realize the dreams of presumption, were of the political kind, chiefly satires against the members and friends of administration. In March 1770, he wrote a poem called “Kew Gardens,” part of which only has been published, but enough to show that he had been supplied by some patriotic preceptor with the floating scandal of the day against the princess dowager, lord Bute, and other statesmen. It is highly improbable that a boy who had spent the greater part of his time since he left school, in fabricating or deciphering the -poetry, heraldry, and topography of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, should on a sudden become well acquainted with the intrigues of political men and their families. In all this, his materials must have been supplied by some persons who lived by propagating the calumnies of personal and political history, and who would rejoice in the dauntless spirit of their new associate. Another poem, of the same description, was entitled “The Whore of Babylon.” Of both these there are specimens in his works, but it does not appear that the whole of them were printed.

It has been regretted that we know very little of the life of this extraordinary young man, whose writings have since become an object of so much curiosity; and great surprize has been expressed, that from the many with whom he appears to have been acquainted, such scanty information has been obtained. For this, however, various reasons may be assigned, which will lessen the wonder. In the first place, his fame, using that word in its most common application, was confined principally to his native city, and there it appears that his friends undervalued his talents, because they considered him in no better light than that of an unprincipled young man, who had accidentally become possessed of certain ancient manuscripts, some of which he had given up, some he had mutilated, and the rest he had destroyed. He was with them an illiterate charity-boy, the run-away apprentice or hackney-writer of an attorney, and after he came to London, they appear to have made very few inquiries after him, congratulating themselves that they had got rid of a rash, impetuous, headstrong boy, who would do some mischief, and disgrace himself and his relations. Again, in London, notwithstanding his boasting letters to his mother and sister, he rose to no high rank among the reputable writers of the day, his productions being confined to publications of the lower order, all of which are now forgotten. But there cannot be a more decisive proof of the little regard he attracted in London, than the secrecy and silence which accompanied his death. This event, although so extraordinary, for young suicides are surely not common, is not even mentioned in any shape, in the Gentleman’s Magazine, the Annual Register, the St. James’s or London Chronicles, nor in any of the respectable publications of the day. He died, a coroner’s jury sat upon the body, and he was buried among paupers, so long before his acquaintance heard of these circumstances, that it was with some difficulty they could be traced with any degree of authenticity. And lastly, it does not appear that any inquiries were made into his early history for nearly seven years after his death, when the Poems of Rowley were first published, and led the way to a very acute and long protracted discussion on their merits. It may be added, too, that they who contended for the authenticity of the poems, were for sinking every circumstance that could prove the genius of Chatterton, until Mr. Thomas Warton and some others took the opposite side of the question, brought the poems to the test of internal evidence, and discovered that however extraordinary it was for Chatterton to produce them in the eighteenth century, it was impossible that Rowley could have written them in the fifteenth.

As to his genius, it must ever be the subject of admiration, whether he was, or was not, the author of the poems ascribed to Rowley. If we look at the poems avowedly his own, together with his productions in prose, where shall we find such and so many indubitable proofs of genius at an early age, struggling against many difficulties? Let us contemplate him as a young man, without classical education, and who knew nothing of literary society, but during the few months of his residence in London; and if to this we add what has been most decidedly proved, that he was not only the author of the poems attributed to Rowley, but consumed his early days in the laborious task of disguising them in the garb of antiquity, perpetually harassed by suspicion and in dread of discovery; if likewise we reflect that the whole of his career closed before he had completed his eighteenth year, we must surely allow that he was one of the most extraordinary young men of modern times, and deserves to be placed high among those instances of premature talents recorded by Kleferus in his “Bibliotheca Eruditorurn Praecocium,” and by Baillet in his “Enfans Celebres.” Still our admiration should be chastened by confining it to the single point of ChtUterton’s extreme youth. If we go farther, and consider Rowley’s poems as the most perfect productions of any age; if, with dean Milles, we prefer him to Homer, Virgil, Spenser, and Shakspeare, we go far beyond the bounds of sober criticism, or rather we defy its laws. Wonderful as those poems are, when considered as the productions of a boy, many heavy deductions must be made from them, if we consider them as the productions of a man, of one who has bestowed labour as well as contributed genius, and who has learned to polish and correct, who would not have admitted such a number of palpable imitations and plagiarisms, and would have altered or expunged a multitude of tame, prosaic, and bald lines and metres.

, an actress of great merit, whose piaiden name was Raftor, was born in 1711, and shewed a very early inclination and genius for the stage. Being recommended to Cibber, he immediately engaged her at a small salary, and she made her first appearance on the stage in boy’s clothes, in the character of Isnienes, the page of Ziphores, in the play of “Mithridates,” at Drury-lane theatre. Continuing to improve in her profession, she added both to her salary and her fame. In 1731 her performance of Nell in the “Devil to pay,” fixed her reputation as the greatest performer of her time in that species of character, in which for more than thirty years she remained without a rival. In the next year, 1732, she united herself in marriage with George Clive, a gentleman of the law, and brother to baron Chve; an union which was not productive of happiness to either party. They soon agreed to separate, and for the rest of their lives had no intercourse together. Mr. Clive, if we mistake not, died at Bath in 1780, but we doubt whether he was brother to the baron of the exchequer, as above mentioned. In 1768, Mrs. dive’s intimate friend Mrs. Pritchard quitted the stage; and the succeeding year she determined to follow her example; but certainly might have continued several years longer to delight the public in various characters adapted to her figure and time of life, as to the last she was admirable and unrivalled. From this time Mrs. Clive retired to a small but elegant house near Strawberry-hill, Twickenham, where she passed the remainder of her life in ease and independence, respected by the world, and beloved by a circle of friends; at which place, after a short illness, she departed this life, December 6, 1785. A'more extensive walk in comedy than that of Mrs. Clive cannot be imagined; the chambermaid, in every varied shape which art or nature could lend her; characters of whim and affectation, from the high-bred lady Fanciful, to the vulgar Mrs. Heidelberg; country girls, romps, hoydens, and dowdies; superannuated beauties, viragoes, and humourists. To a strong and pleasing voice, with an ear for music, she added all the sprightly action requisite to a number of parts in ballad farces. Her mirth was so genuine, that whether it was restrained to the arch sneer and the suppressed half-laugh, widened to the broad grin, or extended to the downright honest burst of loud laughter, the audience was sure to accompany her. Mrs. Clive, in private life, was so far above censure, that her conduct in every relation of it was not only laudable but exemplary. For her benefits she introduced some trifling pieces on the stage, written by herself or hejr friends, but of no great merit.

, or Con-Fu-Tsee, the celebrated Chinese philosopher, was born in the kingdom of Lou, which is at present the province of Chan Long, in the 2 1 st year of the reign of Ling van, the 23d emperor of the race of Tcheou, 551 years B. C. He was contemporary with Pythagoras, and a little before Socrates. He was but three years old when he lost his father Tcho leang he, who had enjoyed the highest offices of the kingdom of Long; but left no other inheritance to his son, except the honour of descending from Ti ye, the 27th emperor of the second race of the Chang. His mother, whose name wasChing, and who sprung originally from the illustrious family of the Yen, lived twenty-one years after the death of her husband, Confucius did not grow in knowledge by degrees, as children ordinarily do, but seemed to arrive at reason and the perfect use of his faculties almost from his infancy. Taking no delight in amusements proper for his age, he had a grave and serious deportment, which gained him respect, and was joined with an appearance of unexampled artd exalted piety. He honoured his relations; he endeavoured in all things to imitate his grandfather, who was then alive in China, and a most holy man: and it was observable, that he never ate any thing but he prostrated himself upon the ground, and offered it first to the supreme Lord of heaven. One day, while he was a child, he heard his grandfather fetch, a deep sigh; and going up to him with many bowings and much reverence, “May I presume,” says he, “without losing the respect I owe you, to inquire into the occasion of your grief? perhaps you fear that your posterity should degenerate from your virtue, and dishonour you by their vices.” “What put this thought into your head,” says Coum-tse to him, “and where have you learnt to speak after this manner?” “From yourself,” replied Confucius: “I attend diligently to you every time you speak; and I have often heard you say, that a son r who does not by his virtue support thfe glory of his ancestors, does not deserve to bear their name.” After his grandfather’s death he applied himself to Tcem-se, a celebrated doctor of his time; and, under the direction of so great a master, soon made a surprising progress in antiquity, which he considered as the source from whence all genuine knowledge was to be drawn. This love for the ancients very nearly cost him his life when he was not more than sixteen years of age. Falling into discourse one day about the Chinese books with a person of high quality, who thought them obscure, and not worth the pains of searching into, “The books you despise,” says Confucius, “are full of profound knowledge, which is not to be attained but by the wise and learned: and the people would think cheaply of them, could they comprehend them of themselves. This subordination of spirits, by which the ignorant are dependent upon the knowing, is very useful, and even necessary in society. Were all families equally rich and equally powerful, there could not subsist any form of government; but there would happen a yet stranger disorder, if mankind were all equally knowing, viz. every one would be for governing, and none would think themselves obliged to obey. Some time ago,” added Confucius, “an ordinary fellow made the same observation to me about the books as you have done, and from such a one indeed nothing better could be expected: but I wonder that you, a doctor, should thus be found speaking like one of the lowest of the people.” This rebuke had indeed the good effect of silencing the mandarin, and bringing him to a better opinion of the learning of his country; yet vexed him so at the same time, as it came from almost a boy, that he would have revenged it by violence, if he had not been prevented.

, a poet and miscellaneous writer, was born at Braintree in Essex, in 1702 or 1703, where his father was an inn-keeper, and as Pope used to say, a Muggletonian. He was educated at Felsted school, where he made considerable proficiency, but how long he remained here, or what was his destination in life is not known. For some time he appears to have been domesticated in the family of lord Pembroke, who died in 1733, and who probably suggested to him a translation of Hesiod, to which his lordship contributed some notes. Before this nobleman’s death, he came to London in 1722, and became a writer by profession, and a strenuous supporter of revolution-principles, which formed a bond of union between him and Tickell, Philips, Welsted, Steele, Dennis, and others, whose political opinions agreed with his own. He wrote in some of the weekly journals of the time, and was considered as a man of learning and abilities. He is supposed to have attacked Pope from political principles, but it is fully as probable, that, as he was a good Greek scholar, he wished to derive some reputation from proving that Pope, in his translation of Homer, was deficient in that language. In 1725 he published a poem entitled “The Battle of the Poets,” in which Pope, Swift, and some others were treated with much freedom and translated and published in the Daily Journal, 1727, the episode of Thersites, from the second book of the Iliad, to show how much Pope had mistaken his author. For this attack Pope gave him a place in the “Dunciad,” and notices him with equal contempt in his Epistle to Dr. Arbutlmot. In a note likewise he informs us that Cooke “wrote letters at the same time to him, protesting his innocence;” but Cooke’s late biographer, sir Joseph Mawbey, is inclined to doubt this, and rather to believe that he was regardless of Pope’s enmity. In a subsequent edition of “The Battle of the Poets” Cooke notices the Dunciad with becoming spirit, and speaks with little respect of Pope’s “philosophy or dignity of mind, who could be provoked by what a boy writ concerning his translation of Homer, and in verses which gave no long promise of duration.” In 1725 or 172G, Cooke published “The Knights of the Bath,” and “Philander and Cydippe,” both poetical tales; and several other pieces of poetry the former evidently meant to attract the public attention, on the revival, about that time, of the order of the Bath. He wrote soon after “The Triumphs of Love and Honour,” a play; “The Eunuch,” a farce; and “The Mournful Nuptials,” a tragedy; all performed at Drury-lane theatre, but with little success. In 1726 he published an account of the “Life and Writings of Andrew Marvell, esq.” prefixed to an edition of the poetical works of that celebrated politician, 2 vols. 12mo, and in 1728 his translation of “Hesiod.” In 1734 he published an edition of Terence, with an English translation, 3 vols. 12mo, and in 1737 “A Translation of Cicero on the Nature of the Gods,” with philosophical, critical, and explanatory notes, to which is added an examination into the astronomy of the ancients, 8vo. In 1741 he encreased his classical reputation by an edition of Virgil, with an interpretation in Latin, and notes in English. In 1742 he published a volume of his original “Poems,” with imitations and translations, and in 1746 undertook a new edition and translation of Plautus, by subscription. Of this he produced in 1754 the first volume, containing a dissertation on the life of Plautus, and a. translation of the comedy of Amphitryon, but although his list of subscribers was very copious, and he went on receiving more, he never completed the work.

, earl of Shaftesbury, an eminent statesman of very dubious character, was son of sir John Cooper, of llockborn in the county of Southampton, bart. by Anne, daughter of sir Anthony Ashley of Winborne St. Giles in the county of Dorset, bart. where he was born July 22, 1621. Being a boy of uncommon parts, he was sent to Oxford at the age of fifteen, and admitted a gentleman commoner of Exeter college, under Dr. John Prideaux, the rector of it. He is said to have studied hard there for about two years; and then removed to Lincoln’s inn, where he applied himself with great vigour to the law, and especially that part of it which related to the constitution of the kingdom. He was elected for Tewksbury in Gloucestershire, in the parliament which met at Westminster, April 13, 1640, but was soon dissolved. He seems to have been well affected to the king’s service at the beginning of the civil war: for he repaired to the king at Oxford, offered his assistance, and projected a scheme, not for subduing or conquering his country, but for reducing such as had either deserted or mistaken their duty to his majesty’s obedience. He was afterwards invited to Oxford by a letter from his majesty; but, perceiving that he was not in confidence, that ins behaviour was disliked, and his person in danger, he retired into the parliament quarters, and soon after went up to London, where he was well received by that party “to which,” says Clarendon, “he gave himself up body and soul.” He accepted a commission from the parliament and, raising forces, took Wareham by storm, October 1644, and soon after reduced all the adjacent parts of Dorsetshire. This, and some other actions of the same nature, induced the above-mentioned historian to say that he “became an implacable enemy to the royal family.” The next year he was sheriff of Wiltshire, in 1651 he was of the committee of twenty, appointed to consider of ways and means for reforming the law. He was also one of the members of the convention that met after Cromwell had turned out the long parliament. He was again a member of parliament in 1654, and one of the principal persons who signed that famous protestation, charging the protector with tyranny and arbitrary government; and he always opposed the illegal measures of that usurper to the utmost. When the protector Richard was deposed, and the Rump came again into power, they nominated sir Anthony one of their council of state, and a commissioner for managing the army. He was at that very time engaged in a secret correspondence with the friends of Charles II. and greatiy instrumental in promoting his restoration; which brought him into peril of his life with the powers then in being. He was returned a member for Dorsetshire, in that which was called the healing parliament, which sat in April 1660; and a resolution being taken to restore the constitution, he was named one of the twelve members of the house of commons to carry their invitation to the king. It was in performing this service that he had the misfortune to be overturned in a carriage upon a Dutch road, by which he received a dangerous wound between the ribs, which ulcerated many years after, and was opened when he was chancellor.

, who has been called the Æsehvlus of France, was born at Dijon, Feb. 13, 1671, and was educated among the Jesuits, who are said to have recorded him in their registers “as a boy of parts, but remarkably graceless.” His family, long distinguished in the magistracy both on the father’s and mother’s side, wishing to preserve its acquired lustre, his father, who was chief register in the chamber of accounts at Dijon, recommended the law to him, without, it would appear, consulting his inclination. He studied it, however, at Paris; was admitted advocate, and afterwards entered as pupil to a solicitor. His frequent attendance on public spectacles, appears to have early given him a relish for the stage, and he could not conceal it from his master, the solicitor, who, from the eloquence with which Crebillon spoke of the master-pieces of the drama, predicted that he would one day make a figure on the theatre. He even ventured to advise his pupil to renounce the bar, and follow the impulse of his genius. This, however, rather disheartened, than encouraged him, as he had a great diffidence of himself; but at length, daily urged by counsels, the sincerity of which he could not suspect, and still more by inclination, he hazarded a piece which he ventured to read to the players, but it was rejected, and he almost forswore the pursuit of dramatic fame.

, son of the preceding, was born at Paris February 12, 1707, and died there April 12, 1777, at the age of 70. It is said that his father being one day asked, in a large company, which of his works he thought the best? “I don't know,” answered he, “which is my best production; but this (pointing to his son, who was present) is certainly my worst.” “It is,” replied the son, with vivacity, “because no Carthusian had a hand in it:” alluding to the report, that the best passages in his father’s tragedies had been written by a Carthusian friar, who was his friend. His father had gained his fame as a manly and nervous writer; the son was remarkable for the ease, elegance, and caustic malignity of his conversation and writings, and might be surnamed the Petronius of France, as his father had been characterised by that of the Æschylus. The abbe Boudot, who lived on familiar terms with him, said to him one day in reply to some of his jokes: “Hold thy tongue! Thy father was a great man; but as for thee, thou art only a great boy.” “Crebiilon the father,” says M. d'Alembert, “paints in the blackest colours the crimes and wickedness of man. The son draws, with a delicate and just pencil, the refinements, the shades, and even the graces of our vices; that seducing levity which renders the French what is called amiable, but which does not signify worthy of being beloved; that restless activity, which makes them feel ennui even in the midst of pleasure; that perversity of principles, disguised, and as it were softened, by the mask of received forms; in short, our manners, at once frivolous and corrupt, wherein the excess of depravity combines with the excess of ridiculousness.” This parallel is more just than the opinion of L'Advocat, who says that the romances of Crebiilon are extremely interesting, because all the sentiments are drawn from a sensible heart, but it is plain that this “sensible heart” is full of affectation, and that the author describes more than he feels. However this may be, Crebiilon never had any other post than that of censor-royal. He is said to have lived with his father as with a friend and a brother; and his marriage with an English woman, whom Crebiilon the father did not approve, only produced a transient misunderstanding. The principal works of the son are: 1. Letters from the marchioness to the count of ***, 1732, 2 vols. 12rno. 2. Tanzai and Neadarne“, 1734, 2 vols. 12mo. This romance, abounding in satirical allusions and often unintelligible, and which caused the author to be put into the bastille, was more applauded than it deserved. 3.” Les egarements du coeur & de Tesprit,“1736, three parts, 12mo. 4.” The Sopha,“a moral tale, 1745, 1749, 2 vols. 12mo, grossly immoral, as most of his works are. For this he Was banished from Paris for some time. 5.” Lettres Atheniennes,“177I,4vols. 12mo. 6.” Ah! que?i conte“1764, 8 parts, 12mo. 7.” Les Heureux Orphelins,“1754, 2 vols. 12mo. 8.” La Nuit & le Moment,“1755, 12mo. 9.” Le hasard du coin du feu,“1763, 12mo. 10.” Lettres de la duchesse de ***,' &c. 1768, 2 vols. 12mo. 11. “Lettres de la marquise de Pompadour,” 12mo, an epistolary romance, written in an easy and bold style; but relates few particulars of the lady whose name it bears. The whole of his works have been collected in 7 vols. 12mo, 1779.

Cromwell was born in the parish of St. John, Huntingdon, where his father mostly lived, April 25, 1599, and baptized 29th of the same month; and educated in grammar-learning at the free-school in that town, under Dr. Beard, a severe disciplinarian. We have very different accounts of his behaviour while he remained at school: some say that he shewed very little propensity to learning; others, that he made a great proficiency in it. It is very probable that berth are wrong; and that he was not either incorrigibly dull, or wonderfully bright; but that he was an unlucky boy, and of an uneasy and turbulent temper, is reported by authors of unsuspected veracity. Many stories are told of his enthusiasm in this early part of his life; one of which we shall mention: lying melancholy upon his bed, in the day-time, he fancied he saw a spectre, which told him, that he should be the greatest man in the kingdom. His father, being informed of this, was very angry, and desired his master to correct him severely, which, however, had no great effect; for Oliver was still persuaded of the thing, and would sometimes mention it, notwithstanding his uncle Stewart told him, “it was too traitorous to repeat it.” Sir Philip Warwick tells us, that he was very well acquainted with one Dr. Simcot, Cromwell’s physician in the earlier part of his life, who assured him, that he was a very fanciful man, and subject to great disorders of imagination: and it is. certain, that he was not altogether free from these fits during his whole life, not even in the height of his prosperity.

Richard, the subject of this article, was born Feb. 19, 1732, under the roof of his grandfather Bentley, in the master’s lodge in Trinity college. When turned of six years of age, he was sent to the school at Bury St. Edmund’s, then under the mastership of the reverend Arthur Kinsman. For some time he made but little progress in his learning; till Kinsman, having observed his low station in the school, publicly reproved him; and thus roused in him a spirit of emulation. While he continued in this school, his grandfather Bentley died; and the affectionate manner in which Kinsman imparted the melancholy event to him, with the kind regard he evinced for his improvement, wrought so much upon his mind, that his task became his delight. In his exercises, however, he describes himself, in his “Memoirs,” as aiming at something like fancy and invention, and as being too frequently betrayed into grammatical errors, which did him no credit with his master, who commented on his blunders in one instance with great severity, producing so great an effect on his sensibility, that he never perfectly recovered it. It was about this time that he made his first attempt in English verse; the subject of which was an excursion he had made with his family in the summer holidays to visit a relation in Hampshire, which engaged him in a description of the docks at Portsmouth, and of the races at Winchester, where he had been present. This little poem he exhibited to his father, who received it with unreserved commendation, and persisted in reciting it to his intimates, when its author had gained experience enough to wish it had been consigned to oblivion. In the intervals from, school his mother began to form both his taste and his ear for poetry, of which art she was a very able mistress, by employing him every evening to read to her. Their readings were, with few exceptions, confined to Shakspeare, whom she both admired and understood in the true spirit and sense of the author. Under her instruction he became passionately fond of these evening entertainments, and the effect was several attempts on his part towards the drama. He was then head-boy of Bury school, though only in his 12th year. He fitted and compiled a kind of cento, eiititled “Shakspeare in the Shades,” in one act, in which the characters of Hamlet and Ophelia, Romeo and Juliet, Lear and Cordelia, were introduced, and Ariel as an attendant spirit on Shakspeare, who is present through the piece: some extracts from this juvenile production are printed in his “Memoirs.” Mr. Kinsman intimating his purpose of retiring from Bury school, young Cumberland was transplanted to Westminster, and admitted under Dr. Nichols, where he remained about a year and a half; and particularly profited there in point of composition. When only in his fourteenth year, he was admitted of Trinity college, Cambridge, where he had two tutors, who took little care of him; but the inconvenience of this being soon felt, the master of the college, Dr. Smith, in the last year of his being under-graduate, recommended him to lose no time in preparing for his degree, and to apply closely to his academical studies for the remainder of the year. During the year of trial, he determined to use every effort for redeeming lost time; he began a course of study so apportioned as to allow himself but six hours’ sleep, to which he strictly adhered, living almost entirely upon milk, and using the cold bath very frequently. In the several branches of mechanics, hydrostatics, optics, and astronomy, he made himself master of the best treatises; he worked all his propositions, and formed all his minutes, even his thoughts, in Latin, and thereby acquired advantages superior to some of the best of his contemporaries in public disputations; for, so long as his knowledge of a question could supply matter for argument, he never felt any want of terms for explanation. In consequence of this diligence, he was enabled to go through his scholastic exercises four times in the course of the year, keeping two acts and two first opponencies, and acquitted himself with great credit. On being cited to the senate -house for examination for the bachelor’s degree, he was kept perpetually at the table under the process of question and answer. His constitution, considerablv impaired by the intense application he had given, just held him up to the expiration of the scrutiny; and on hastening to his father’s, he soon fell ill of a rheumatic fever, from which, after six months’ care and attention, he was recovered. While in this state of extreme indisposition, a high station was adjudged to him amongst the wranglers of his year.

Sir James Dalrymple died in 1750; and the hon. general St. Clair having married sir James’s sister, a very sensible and accomplished woman (the relict of sir John Baird, bart.), in 1752, from his intimacy with alderman Baker, then chairman of the East India company, general St. Clair got Mr. Baker’s promise to appoint his nephew, Mr. Dalrymple, a writer in the company’s service; the young man having conceived a strong desire of going to the East Indies, by reading Nieuhoff’s Voyages, and a novel of that time, called Joe Thomson. He accordingly left Scotland in the spring of 1752, with his brother sir David, who affectionately accompanied him to London. He was put to Mr. Kinross’s academy, at Forty-hill, near Enfield, for some months antecedent to his appointment in the company’s service. He tells us he was obliged to Mr. Kinross for his great kindness and attention to him, and received much good instruction for his conduct through life; by which he greatly profited: but was too short a time at that academy to learn much of what was the object of sending him there, viz. writing and merchants’ accounts; which are, at least were at that time, the only qualifications the East India company thought requisite in their servants: and the absurdity of supposing a boy of sixteen from an academy competent to keep a set of merchants’ books not being considered, some demur was made to Mr. Kinross’s certificate of this part of Mr. Dalrymple’s education not being expressed in terms sufficiently direct; however, this was not insisted on.

, a very learned Jesuit, was born at Antwerp of Spanish parents, in 1551. The progress he made in letters, while a very boy, is recorded with wonder. He was taught grammar in the Low Countries, and then sent to Paris to learn rhetoric and philosophy under the Jesuits. Afterwards he went to study civil law in the new university of Do way; but removing from thence to Louvain, he laid aside that pursuit, and applied himself to polite literature, which he cultivated with so much ardour and success, that he surprised the public, when he was only nineteen years of age, with some good notes upon the tragedies of Seneca. “What is more,” says Baillet, “he cited in this work almost 1100 authors, with all the assurance of a man who had read them thoroughly, and weighed their sentiments with great judgment and exactness.” The reputation he acquired by this first essay of his erudition was afterwards increased. He is said to have understood at least ten languages, and to have read every thing, ancient and modern, that was thought worth reading. He was admitted LL. D. at Salamanca in 1574; and was afterwards a counsellor of the parliament of Brabant, and an intendant of the army. In 1580 he became a Jesuit at Valladolid; from whence going into the Low Countries, he taught divinity and the belles lettres, and contracted a firm friendship with Lipsius. He taught also at Liege, at Mentz, at Gratz, and at Salamanca. He died at Louvain, in 1608, about two years after his friend Lipsius.

, of the academy of Berlin, an eminent French writer, was the son of a cutler, and was bora at Langres, in 1713. The Jesuits, with whom he went through a course of study, were desirous of having him in their order, and one of his uncles designing him for a canonry which he had in his gift, made him take the tonsure. But his father, seeing that he was not inclined to be either a Jesuit or a canon, sent him to Paris to prosegute his studies. He then placed him with a lawyer, to whose instructions young Diderot paid little attention, but employed himself in general literature, which not coinciding with the views of his father, he stopped the remittance of his pecuniary allowance, and seemed for some time to have abandoned him. The talents of the young man, however, supplied him with a maintenance, and gradually made him known. He had employed his mind on physics, geometry, metaphysics, ethics, belles-lettres, from the time he began to read with reflection, and although a bold and elevated imagination seemed to give him a turn for poetry, he neglected it for the more serious sciences. He settled at an early period at Paris, where the natural eloquence which animated his conversation procured him friends and patrons. What first gave him reputation among a certain class of readers, unfortunately for France, too numerous in that country, was a little collection of “Pensees philosophiques,” reprinted afterwards under the title of “Etrennes aux esprits-forts.” This book appeared in 1746, 12mo. The adepts of the new philosophy compared it, for perspicuity, elegance, and force of diction, to the “Pensees de Pascal.” But the aim of the two authors was widely different. Pascal employed his talents, and erudition, which was profound and various, in support of the truths of religion, which Diderot attacked by all the arts of an unprincipled sophist. The “Pensées philosophiques,” however, became a toiletbook. The author was thought to be always in the right, because he always dealt in assertions. Diderot was more usefully employed in 1746, in publishing a “Dictionnaire universelle de Medecine,” with Messrs. Eidous and Toussaint, in G vols. folio. Not that this compilation, says his biographer, is without its defects in many points of view, or that it contains no superficial and inaccurate articles; but it is not without examples of deep investigation; and the work was well received. A more recent account, however, informs us that this was merely a translation of Dr. James’s Medical Dictionary, published in this country in 1743; and that Diderot was next advised to translate Chambers’ s Dictionary; but instead of acting so inferior a part, he conceived the project of a more extensive undertaking, the “Dictionnaire Encyclopedique.” So great a monument not being to be raised by a single architect, D'Alembert, the friend of Diderot, shared with him the honours and the dangers of the enterprise, in which they were promised the assistance of several literati, and a variety of artists. Diderot took upon himself alone the description of arts and trades, one of the most important parts, and most acceptable to the public. To the particulars of the several processes of the workmen, he sometimes added reflections, speculations, and principles adapted to their elucidation. Independently of the part of arts and trades, this chief of the encyclopedists furnished in the different sciences a considerable number of articles that were wanting; but even his countrymen are inclined to wish that in a work of such a vast extent, and of such general use, he had learned to compress his matter, and had been less verbose, less of the dissertator, and less inclined to digressions. He has also been censured for employing needlessly a scientific language, and for having recourse to metaphysical doctrines, frequently unintelligible, which occasioned him to be called the Lycophron. of philosophy; for having introduced a number of definitions incapable of enlightening the ignorant, and which he seems to have invented for no other purpose than to have it thought that he had great ideas, while in fact, he had not the art of expressing perspicuously and simply the ideas of others. As to the body of the work, Diderot himself agreed that the edifice wanted an entire reparation; and when two booksellers intended to give a new edition of the Encyclopedic, he thus addressed them on the subject of the faults with which it abounds: “The imperfection of this work originated in a great variety of causes. We had not time to be very scrupulous in the choice of the coadjutors. Among some excellent persons, there were others weak, indifferent, and altogether bad. Hence that motley appearance of the work, where we see the rude attempt of a school-boy by the side of a piece from the hand of a master; and a piece of nonsense next neighbour to a sublime performance. Some working for no pay, soon lost their first fervour; others badly recompensed, served us accordingly. The Encyclopedic was a gulf into which all kinds of scribblers promiscuously threw their contributions: their pieces were ill-conceived, and worse digested; good, bad, contemptible, true, false, uncertain, and always incoherent and unequal; the references that belonged to the very parts assigned to a person, were never filled up by him. A refutation is often found where we should naturally expect a proof; and there was no exact correspondence between the letter-press and the plates. To remedy this defect, recourse was had to long explications. But how many unintelligible machines, for want of letters to denote the parts!” To this sincere confession Diderot added particular details on various parts; such as proved that there were in the Encyclopedic subjects to be not only re-touched, but to be composed afresh; and this was what a new company of literati and artists undertook, but have not yet completed. The first edition, however, which had been delivering to the public from 1751 to 1767, was soon sold off, because its defects were compensated in part by many well-executed articles, and because uncommon pains were taken to recommend it to the public.

From the numerous maxims and apothegms which have been ascribed to Diogenes, we shall select the following, without staying to inquire what right he has to the credit of them: Diogenes treading upon Plato’s robe, said, “I trample under foot the pride of Plato.” “Yes,” said Plato, “with greater pride of your own.” Being asked in what part of Greece he had seen good men, he answered, “No-where; at Sparta I have seen good boys.” To a friend who advised him in his old age to indulge himself, he said, “Would you have me quit the race when J have almost reached the goal?” Observing a boy drink water out of the hollow of his hand, he took his cup out of his wallet, and threw it away, saying that he would carry no superfluities about him. Plato having defined man to be a two-legged animal without wings, Diogenes plucked off the feathers from a cock, and turned him into the academy, crying out, “See Plato’s man.” In reply to one who asked him at what time he ought to dine he said, “If you are a rich man, when you will; if you are poor, when you can.” “How happy,” said one, “is Callisthenes, in living with Alexander!” “No,” said Diogenes, “he is not happy; for he must dine and sup when Alexander pleases.” Plato, discoursing concerning ideas, spoke of the abstract idea of a table and a cup; Diogenes said, “I see the table and the cup, but not the idea of the table and the cup.” Plato replied, “No wonder, for you have eyes, but no intellect.” His answer to an invitation from Craterus to come and live with him was, “I had rather lick salt at Athens, than sit down to the richest feast with Craterus.” Being asked what countryman he was, he answered, “A citizen of the world.” To one that reviled him he said, “No one will believe you, when you speak ill of me, any more than they would me, if I were to speak well of you.” Hearing one of his friends lament that he should not die in his own country, he said, “Be not uneasy; from every place there is a passage to the regions below.” “Would you be revenged upon your enemy,” said Diogenes, “be virtuous, that he may have nothing to say against you.”

"It is, however, but justice to observe that there is a subject in which Domenichino has not unsuccessfully copied, and perhaps even excelled RafTaello. I mean that of the Cure of the demoniac boy, among the series of frescoes painted by him at Grotto Ferrata. That inspired figure is evidently the organ of an internal preternatural agent, darted upward without contortion, and even considered without any connexion with the story, never can be confounded with a mere tumultuary distorted maniac; which is not perhaps the case of the boy in the Transfiguration; the subject, too, being within the range of Domenichino’s powers, a domestic one, the whole of the persons introduced is characteristic. Awe of the saint who operates the miracle, and terror at the redoubled fury of the son at his approach, mark the rustic father: confidence, serene activity, and fervent prayer, the saint and his companion: nor could the agonizing female with the child, as she is the mother, be exchanged to advantage; here she properly occupies that place which the fondling females in the pictures of St. Sebastian, St. Andrew, and St. Agnes, only usurp.

, an English mariner, and a native of Leicestershire, merits some notice as the author of the most authentic account ever given of Madagascar, which was first published in 1729, reprinted in 1743, and more recently, in 1808. Drury was shipwrecked in the Degrave East Indiaman, on the south side of that island, in 1702, being then a boy, and lived there as a slave fifteen years. After his return to England, he had among those who knew him, the character of a plain honest man, without any appearance of fraud or imposture. The truth of his narrative, as far as it goes, was confirmed by its exact agreement with the journal kept by Mr. John Benbow (eldest son of the brave but unfortunate admiral), who, being second-mate of the Degrave, was also shipwrecked, and narrowly escaped being massacred by the natives, with the captain and the rest of the crew, Drury and three other boys only excepted. Mr. Benbow’s journal was accidentally burnt in 1714, in a fire near Aldgate; but several of his friends who had seen it, recollected the particulars, and its correspondence with Dairy’s. (See Benbow). Indeed the authenticity of Drury’s narrative seems to be amply confirmed, and his facts have been accordingly adopted by the compilers of geography. There is all that simplicity and verbiage which may be expected in the narratives of the illiterate, but none of the artifices of fiction. After his return from his captivity, he went to Loughborough, to his sister and other relations. It is said that he had the place of a porter at the India-house, and that his father left him 200l. and the reversion of a house at Stoke Newington. A friend of the late Mr. Duncombe, who was living in 1769, knew him well, and used frequently to call upon him at his house in Lincoln’s-inn fields, which were not then inclosed, and had often seen Drury throw a javelin there, and hit a small mark at a surprizing distance; but other particulars of his life are not known.

About the same time he married a lady of Coleshill, named Ensor; “whose grandmother,” says he, “was a Shakspeare, descended from a brother of every body’s Shakspeare.” His ecclesiastical provision was a long time but slender. His first patron, Mr. Harper, gave him in 1741, Calthorp in Leicestershire, of 80l. a year, on which he lived ten years; and in April 1757, exchanged it for Belchford, in Lincolnshire, of 75l. which was given him by lord-chancellor Hardwicke, on the recommendation of a friend to virtue and the muses. His condition now began to mend. In the year 1752 sir John Heathcote gave him Coningsby, of 140l. a-year; and in 1756, when he was LL. B. without any solicitation of his own, obtained for him, from the chancellor, Kirkby-on-Bane, of 110l. “I was glad of this,” says Mr. Dyer, in 1756, “on account of its nearness to me, though I think myself a loser by the exchange, through the expence of the seal, dispensations , journies, &c. and the charge of an old house, half of which I am going to pull down” The house, which is a very good one, owes much of its improvement to Mr. Dyer. His study, a little room with white walls, ascended by two steps, had a handsome window to the church-yard, which he stopped up, and opened a less, that gave him a full view of the fine church and castle at Tateshall, about a mile off, and of the road leading to it. He also improved the garden. In May 1757 he was employed in rebuilding a Lirge barn, which a late wind had blown down, and gathering materials for re-building above half the parsonage-house at Kirkby. “These,” he says, “some years ago, I should have called trifles but the evil days are come, and the lightest thing, even the grasshopper, is a burden upon the shoulders of the old and fickly.” He had then just published “The Fleece,” his greatest poetical work; of which Dr. Johnson relates this ludicrous story: Dodsley the bookseller was one day mentioning it to a critical visitor, with more expectation of success than the other could easily admit. In the conversation the author’s age was asked: and being represented as advanced in life, “he will,” said the critic, “be buried in woollen.” He did not indeed long outlive that publication, nor long enjoy the increase of his pre; ments; for a consumptive disorder, with which he had long struggled, carried him off at length, July 24, 1758. Mr. Gough, who visited Coningsby Sept.5, 17S2, could find no memorial erected to him in the church. Mr--. Dyer, on her husband’s decease, retired to her friends in Caernarvonshire. In 17.56 they had four children living, three girls and a boy. Of these, Sarah died single. The son, a youth of the most amiable disposition, heir to his father’s truly classical taste, and to his uncle’s estate of 300l. or 400l. a year in Suffolk, devoted the principal part of his time to travelling; and died in London, as he was preparing to set out on a tour to Italy, in April 1782, at the age of thirty-two. This young gentleman’s fortune was divided between two surviving sisters; one of them married to alderman Hewitt, of Coventry; the other, Elizabeth, to the rev. John Gaunt, of Birmingham. Mr. Dyer had some brothers, all of whom were dead in 1756, except one, who was a clergyman, yeoman of his majesty’s almonry, lived at Marybone, and had then a numerous family.

The literary knowledge of William Edwards was at first confined to the Welsh language, which he could read and write from early youth. He was supposed to be rather obstinate when a boy; an imputation which generally rests on genius, that sees beyond the scope of those by whom it is controlled. His own account of this alleged temper was, that he always considered whether any thing that was proposed to him, or any principle that he was required to act upon, coincided with his own ideas of rectitude. If he found that it did, he firmly persisted in it. His general character was that of uncommon resolution and inflexibility. He was very wild, as it is commonly reported of him, till about eighteen years of age. After that period, he became very steady and sedate. A neighbour instructed him a little in arithmetic. About the age of twenty or twenty-one, he undertook the building of a large iron forge at Cardiff, and lodged with a person namedWalter Rosser, a baker, and blind. This man taught English reading. William Edwards was alive to every opportunity of improvement, and rapidly acquired what he eagerly pursued.

, an eminent painter, was born in the village of Peene, near Cassel, in 1658, of parents extremely poor, and seemed destined to rise in the world by slow degrees. His mother, who was a widow, lived in the country on what she earned by washing linen; her whole wealth consisted in a cow, which her little boy used to lead to pick up its pasture by the side of the ditches. One day Corben, a famous painter of landscapes and history, going to put up some pictures which he had made for Cassel, as he went along the road, took notice of this lad, who had made a fortification of mud, and little clay" figures that were attacking it. Corbéen was immediately struck with the regularity and taste that was evident in the work. He stopped his chaise, and put several questions to the lad, whose answers increased his astonishment. His figure and countenance added to the impression; and the painter asked him whether he would go and live with him, and he would endeavour to put him in a way of getting his bread; the boy said he would willingly accept of his offer, if his mother would but agree to it. Elias failed not to be at the same place on the day appointed, accompanied by his mother; he ran before the chaise, and Corbéen told the woman to bring her son to him at Dunkirk, where he lived. The boy was received, and the master put him to school, where he was taught the languages, and he himself taught him to draw and to paint. The scholar surpassed his fellow-students: he acquired the esteem of the public, and gained the favour of his master to such a degree, that he sent him to Paris at the age of twenty; whence Elias transmitted his works to his master and benefactor. With great gentleness of character, he possessed the good quality of being always grateful; he thus repaid his master for his kindness to him, as Corbéen frequently confessed. Elias, after having been some while at Paris, married. He made a journey to Dunkirk for the purpose of visiting his master, and it was while there that he painted a picture for the altar of St. Barbara’s chapel, in which he represented the martyrdom of that saint; a fine composition. On his return to Paris, he was appointed professor at St. Luke, and successively obtained several other posts. He was much employed, and composed several subjects taken from the life of St. John Baptist de la Barriere, author of the reform of the Feuillants. All these subjects were painted on glass, by Simpi and Michu, and are in the windows of the cloister. Elias, now become a widower, took a journey to Flanders, in hopes of dispelling his grief. Being arrived at Dunkirk, the brotherhood of St. Sebastian engaged him to paint their principal brethren in one piece; he executed this great picture, with a number of figures as large as life, and some in smaller dimensions. The company of taylors having built a chapel in the principal church, Elias was employed to paint the picture for the altar, in which he represented the baptism of Christ; in the fore-ground is St. Lewis at prayers, for obtaining the cure of the sick. Being now on the point of returning to Paris, he was so earnestly solicited to remain in his native country, that at length he yielded to the entreaties of his numerous friends. He now executed a grand picture for the high altar of the Carmelites; it was a votive piece of the city to the Virgin Mary. This picture is a fine composition, and of a style of colouring: more true and warm than was usual with him the artist, as is often the practice, has introduced his own portrait. Elias was complimented on this alteration in his colouring; by which he was encouraged to redouble his care. He executed for the parish church of Dunkirk art altar-piece of the chapel of St. Croix; a Transfiguration for the altar of the parish church of Bailleul, and in that of the Jesuits at Cassel, a miracle of St. Francis Xavier, &c. The abbot of Bergues, St. Winox, employed our artist a long time in ornamenting the refectory of his house. Among his great works he made some portraits in a capital manner. In his greatest successes, Elias never made any change in his conduct, but always continued to lead the same regular life; he was seen no where but at church and in his work-room, into which he rarely admitted visitors. He was much esteemed for the mildness of his disposition. Detesting those malicious reports which are but too common among rival artists, he minded only his business. Not desirous of having pupils, he rather dissuaded young men from cultivating an art that was attended with so much trouble, than encouraged them to enter upon it; those that knew him best, always spoke of this artist as a model of good conduct. He continued working to the end of his days, which happened at Dunkirk the 22d of April 1741, in the eighty -second year of his age. He had but one son, who died at Paris, doctor of the Sorbonne. Neither had he more than one pupil, Carlier, who was living at Paris in 1760.

Referring to lord Orford, &c. for a catalogue of her translations from the French, her prayers and meditations, her speeches in parliament, and her letters, which last are dispersed in vast numbers through a variety of collections, we may remark that education and principle led her to favour the reformation; nor could she hesitate on the subject, but acted with caution, not to alarm the adherents to popery by too explicit a declaration of her sentiments, and yet taking care to afford early indications of her favourable views to the cause, some of them displayed in a manner pleasing and ingenious. At the time of her coronation, when she was solemnly conducted through London, a boy, who personated Truth, was let down from one of the triumphal arches, and presented her with a copy of the Bible, which she received in the most gracious manner, placing it in her bosom, and declaring, that amidst all the costly testimonies which the citizens had that day afforded of their attachment, this present was by far most precious and acceptable.

From the extreme care and excellence with which his works are finished, they were not, of course, in his short life, very numerous; and are rarely to be met with. While he was alive, his pictures bore an excessive high price, which was amazingly enhanced after his death: and Houbraken mentions one of them, representing Pomona, which was sold for eight hundred German florins. Sandrart describes a great number of his capital performances; among which are, Tobit and the angel, now at lord Egremont’s Latona and her sons, with the Peasants turned into Frogs the death of Procris and his most capital picture of the flight into Egypt, which needs no description, as there is a print of it extant, engraved by Gaud, the friend and benefactor of Elsheimer. Some of his works were in the collection of the grand duke of Tuscany. The richest collection of them in this country is at the earl of Egremont’s, at Petworth, in Sussex. There are ten pictures by him, eight of which are of one size, viz. about four inches high, by two and a half wide, or perhaps a little more. The subjects are, a St. Peter, St. Paul, St. John Baptist, Tobit and the angel with a fish, an old woman and a girl, an old man with a boy, and a capuchin friar, with a model of a convent in his hand. The figures in all these are about three inches high, yet their characters and expressions are just and excellent; and the drawing of their figures, and the draperies, in the best style of art. Another picture represents the interior of a brothel by fire and candle light, in which there are ten or more figures gaming, and indulging in the licentiousness of such a place, all exquisitely wrought; with some expressions that have never been surpassed, although the figures are not more than two inches and a half high. The last is “Nicodemus’s visit to Christ;” but it is not of so good a quality as the others.

Being now recommended to sir Richard Brown, bart. the king’s minister there, he made his addresses to his only daughter Mary, whom he married June 27, 1647, and in her right became possessed of Sayes-court near Deptford, in Kent, where he resided after his return to England, which was in October of that year. Soon after his arrival he went to Hampton court, where he had the honour to kiss his majesty’s hand, and gave him an account of several things he had in charge. On Jan. 21, 1648-9, he published his tract on liberty and servitude, for which he wasseverely threatened, and probably on this account he went again to France in July 1649, and in November of that year he attended his father-in-law sir Richard Brown, when he had his first audience at the French court, after the death of Charles I. and delivered his credentials from Charles II. In July 1650 he went again to England, but returned to Paris in the following month. In Jan. 1651-2 he left France, and returning to England, settled at Sayescourt near Deptford, and in May was joined by his wife from France. In all he appears to have spent about seven years in his travels, and with a mind highly improved by what he had seen and read, he silently pursued his studies at this retirement (for such it then was), and wrote and published some of those works which afterwards gave him a distinguished name in the learned world. It was here also that he first shewed his skill in planting and gardening, both then very little understood in England, and rendered this place the wonder and admiration of the most judicious men of his time. The situation, indeed, of public affairs induced him to consider privacy as a very great blessing; and so fond was he of his rural retreat, that he very rarely quitted it, though but a young man, with a considerable fortune, and extremely admired and courted by all his acquaintance. This studious disposition, together with his disgust of the world, occasioned by that strange scene of violence and confusion that was then acted upon the public stage, was so strong, that he actually proposed to the honourable Mr. Robert Boyle, the raising of a kind of college for the reception of persons of the same turn of mind, where they might enjoy the pleasure of agreeable society, and at the same time pass their days without care or interruption. His plan was thus formed: “I propose the purchasing of thirty or forty acres of land, in some healthy place, not above twenty-five miles from London, of which a good part should be tall wood, and the rest upland pastures, or downs sweetly irrigated. If there were not already an house which might be converted, &c. we wonld erect, upon the most convenient site of this near the wood, our building, viz. one handsome pavillion, containing a refectory, library, withdrawing-room, and a closet this the first story for, we suppose the kitchen, larders, cellars, and offices, to be contrived in the half-story under ground. In the second should be a fair lodging-chamber, a palletroom, gallery, and a closet, all which should be well and very nobly furnished, for any worthy person that might desire to stay any time, and for the reputation of the college. The half-story above, for servants, wardrobes, and like conveniences. To the entry fore-front of this court, and at the other back-front, a plot walled in, of a competent square for the common seraglio, disposed into a garden, or it might be only carpet, kept curiously, and to serve for bowls, walking, or other recreations, &c. if the company please. Opposite to the house, towards the wood, should be erected a pretty chapel, and, at equal distances, even within the flanking walls of the square, six apartments or cells for the members of the society, and not contiguous to the pavillion, each whereof should contain a small bed-chamber, an outward room, a closet, and a private garden, somewhat after the manner of the Carthusians. There should likewise be an elaboratory, with a repository for rarities and things of nature; aviary, dovehouse, physic-garden, kitchen-garden, and a plantation of orchard-fruit, &c. all uniform buildings, but of single stories, or a little elevated. At a convenient distance, towards the olitory garden, should be a stable for two or three horses, and a lodging for a servant or two. Lastly, a garden-house and conservatory for tender plants. The estimate amounts thus the pavillion 400l. the chapel, 150. apartments, walls, and out-housing, 600l. the purchase of a fee for thirty acres, at fifteen pounds 1600/, will be the utmost. Three of the cells, or apartments, that is, one moiety with the appurtenances, shall be at the disposal of one of the founders, and the other half at the others. If, I and my wife take up two apartments (for we are to be decently asunder, however, I stipulate, and her inclination will greatly suit with it, that shall be no impediment to the society, but a considerable advantage to the ceeonomicpart), a third shall be for some, worthy person; and, to facilitate the rest, I offer to furnish the whole pavillion completely to the value of 500l. in goods and moveables, if need be for seven years, till there shall be a public stock, &c. There shall be maintained, at the public charge, only a chaplain, well qualified, an ancient woman to dress the meat, wash, and do all such offices; a man to buy provision, keep the garden, horses, &c. a boy to assist him and serve within. At one meal a day, of two dishes only, unless some little, extraordinary upon particular days or occasions (then never exceeding three) of plain and wholesome meat a small refection at night wine, beer, sugar, spice, bread, fish, fowl, candle, soap, oats, hay, fuel, &c. at four pounds per week, 200l. per annum; wages, fifteen pounds; keeping the gardens, twenty pounds; the chaplain, twenty pounds per annum. Laid up in the treasury 145l. to be employed for books, instruments, drugs, trials, &c. The. total, 400l. a year, comprehending the keeping of two horses for the chariot, or the saddle, and two kine; so that 200l. per annum will be the utmost that the founders shall be at to maintain the whole society, consisting of nine persons (the servants included), though there should no others join capable to alleviate the expence. But, if any of those who desire to be of the society be so well qualified as to support their own particulars, and allow for their proportion, it will yet much diminish the charge; and of such there cannot want some at all times, as the apartments are empty. If either of the founders thinks expedient to alter his condition, or that any thing do humanitus contingere, he may resign to another, or sell to his colleague, and dispose of it as he pleases, yet so as it still continue the institution. Orders. At six, in summer, prayers in the chapel. To study till half an hour after eleven. Dinner in the refectory till one. Retire till four. Then called to conversation (if the weather invite) abroad, else in the refectory. This never omitted but in case of sickness. Prayers at seven. To bed at nine. In the winter the same, with some abatements for the hours, because the nights are tedious, and the evening’s conversation more agreeable. This in the refectory. All play interdicted, sans bowls, chess, &c. Every one to cultivate his own garden. One month in spring a course in the claboratory on vegetables, &c. In the winter a month on other experiments. Every man to have a key of the elaboratory, pavillion, library, repository, &c. Weekly fast. Communion once every fortnight, or month at least. No stranger easily admitted to visit any of the society, but upon certain days weekly, and that only after dinner. Any of the society may have his commons to his apartment, if he will not meet in the refectory, so it be not above twice a week. Every Thursday shall be a music-meeting at conversation hours. Every person of the society shall render some public account of his studies weekly, if thought fit, and especially shall be recommended the promotion of experimental knowledge, as the principal end of the institution. There shall be a decent habit and uniform used in the college. One month in the year may be spent in London, or any of the universities, or in a perambulation for the public befiefit, &c. with what other orders shall be thought convenient.”

It must indeed have been with reluctance that a boy who had begun to taste the sweets of literature, consented to serve an apprenticeship on board a merchant vessel at Leith, which we are told he did when very young. He was afterwards in the capacity of a servant to Campbell, the author of Lexiphanes, when purser of a ship. Campbell is said to have discovered in Falconer talents worthy of cultivation; and when the latter distinguished himself as a poet, used to repeat with some pride, that he had once been his scholar.

, one of the most celebrated historians and poets of his nation in the seventeenth century, was born March 18, 1590, at Sonto near Caravilla in Portugal, of a noble family, both by his father’s and mother’s side. His father’s name was Arnador Perez d'Eiro, and his mother’s Louisa Faria, but authors are not agreed in their conjectures why he did not take his father’s name, but preferred Faria, that of his mother, and Sousa, which is thought to have been his grandmother’s name. In his infancy he was very infirm, yet made considerable progress, even when a puny child, in writing, drawing, and painting. At the age of ten, his father sent him to school to learn Latin, in which his proficiency by no means answered his expectations, owing to the boy’s giving the preference to the Portuguese and Spanish poets. These he read incessantly, and composed several pieces in verse and prose in both languages, but he had afterwards the good sense to destroy his premature effusions, as well as to perceive that the Greek and Roman classics are the foundation of a true style, and accordingly he endeavoured to repair his error by a careful study of them. In 1604, when only in his fourteenth year, he was received in the Tank of gentleman into the household of don Gonzalez de Moraes, bishop of Porto, who was his relation, and afterwards made him his secretary; and during his residence with this prelate, which lasted ten years, he applied himself indefatigably to his studies, and composed some works, the best of which was an abridgment of the historians of Portugal, “Epitome de las historias Portuguesas, desde il diluyio hasta el anno 1628,” Madrid, 1628, 4to. In this he has been thought to give rather too much scope to his imagination, and to write more like an orator than a historian. In 1612 he fell in love with a lady of Porto, whom he calls Albania, and who was the subject of some of his poems; but it is doubtful whether this was the lady he married in 1614, some time after he left the bishop’s house, on account of his urging him to go into the church, for which he had no inclination. -He remained at Porto until 1618, when he paid his father a visit at Pombeiro. The year following he went to Madrid, and into the service of Peter Alvarez Pereira, secretary of state, and counsellor to Philip the III. and IV. but Pereira did not live long enough to give him any other proof of his regard than by procuring to be made a knight of the order of Christ in Portugal. In 1628 he returned to Lisbon with his family, but quitted Portugal in 1631, owing to his views of promotion being disappointed. Returning to Madrid, he was chosen secretary to the marquis de Castel Rodrigo, who was about to set out for Rome as ambassador at the papal court. At Rome Faria was received with great respect, and his merit acknowledged; but having an eager passion for study, he visited very few. The pope, Urban VIII. received him very graciously, and conversed familiarly with him on the subject of poetry. One of his courtiers requested Faria to write a poem on the coronation of that pontiff, which we find in the second volume of his poems. In 1634, having some reason to be dissatisfied with his master, the ambassador, he quitted his service, and went to Genoa with a view to return to Spain. The ambassador, piqued at his departure, which probably was not very ceremonious, wrote a partial account of it to the king of Spain, who caused Faria to be arrested at Barcelona. So strict was his confinement, that for more than three months no person had access to him; until Jerome de Villa Nova, the prothonotary of Arragon, inquired into the affair, and made his innocence known to the king. This, however, had no other effect than to procure an order that he should be a prisoner at large in Madrid; although the king at the same time assured him that he was persuaded of his innocence, and would allow him sixty ducats per month for his subsistence. Faria afterwards renewed his solicitations to be allowed to remove to Portugal, but in vain; and his confinement in Madrid, with his studious and sedentary life, brought on, in 1647, a retention of urine, the torture of which he bore with great patience. It occasioned his death, however, on June 3, 1640. He appears to have merited an excellent character, but was too little of a man of the world to make his way in it. A spirit of independence probably produced those obstacles which he met with in his progress; and even his dress and manner, we are told, were rather those of a philosopher than of a courtier. Besides his History of Portugal, already mentioned, and of which the best edition was published in 1730, folio, he Wote, 1. “Noches claras,” a collection of moral and political discourses, Madrid, 1623 and 1626, 2 vols. 12mo. 2. “Fuente de Aganipr, o Rimes varias,” a collection of his poems, in 7 vols. Madrid, 1644, &c. 3. “Commentarios sobra las Lusiadas de Luis de Camoens,” an immense commentary on the Lusiad, ibid. 1639, in 2 vols. folio. He is said to have began it in 1614, and to have bestowed twentyfive years upon it. Some sentiments expressed here had alarmed the Inquisition, and the work was prohibited. He was permitted, however, to defend it, which he did in, 4. * Defensa o Information por'los Commentaries, &c.“Madrid, 1640 or 1645, folio. 5.” Imperio de la China, &e.“and an account of the propagation of religion by the Jeuits, written by Semedo: Faria was only editor of this work, Madrid, 1643, 4to. 6.” Nobiliario del Concle D. Petro de Barcelos,“&c. a translation from the Portuguese, with notes, ibid. 1646, folio. 7.” A Life of Don Martin Bapt. de Lanuza,“grand justiciary of Arragon,” ibid. 1650, 4to. 8. “Asia Portuguesa,” Lisbon, 1666, &c. 3 vols. folio. 9. “Europa Portuguesa,” ibid. 1678, 2 vols. folio. 10. “Africa Portuguesa,” ibid. 1681, folio. Of this we have an English Edition by John Stevens, Lond. 1695, 3 vols. 8vo. 11. “America Portuguesa.” All these" historical and geographical works have been considered as correct and valuable. Faria appears to have published some other pieces of less importance, noticed by Antonio.

, an English artist of great promise, the fourth son of the rev. William Farington, B. D. rector of Warrington, and vicar of Leigh in Lancashire, was born in 1754, and received his first instructions in the art from his brother Joseph, one of the present royal academicians; but his inclinations leading him to the study of historical painting, he acquired farther assistance from Mr. West. He was for some time employed by the late alderman Boy dell, for whom he executed several very excellent drawings from the Houghton collection. He studied long in the royal academy, and obtained a silver medal in 1779; and in 1780, obtained the golden medal for the best historical picture, the subject of which was the cauldron scene in Macbeth. In 1782 he left England, and went to the East Indies, being induced to undertake that voyage by some advantageous offers. In India he painted many pictures; but his principal undertaking was a large work, representing the Durbar, or court of the nabob, at Mershoodabad. Whilst employed on this work, he imprudently exposed himself to the night air, to observe some ceremonies of the natives, in order to complete a series of drawings begun for that purpose, when he was suddenly seized with a complaint, which, in a few days, unfortunately terminated his life in 1788.

He was now induced to trust to his abilities for a subsistence, but whatever his difficulties or discouragements, he kept his name unsullied, and never descended to any mean or dishonourable shifts. Indeed, whoever mentioned him, mentioned him with honour, in every period of his life. His first employ he owed to a recommendation to Charles earl of Orrery, whom he accompanied to Flanders, in quality of secretary, and returned with his lordship to England in 1705. Being then out of employment, he became assistant in the school of Mr. Bonwicke, (see Bo?7­Wicki:), at Headley, near Leatherhead, in Surrey; after which he was invited to the mastership of the free grammar school at Sevenoaks, in Kent, and in a few years brought that seminary into much reputation, while he enjoyed the advantage of making easy and frequent excursions to visit his friends in London. In 1710 he was prevailed upon by Mr. St. John (lord Bolingbrokt ) to give up what was called the drudgery of a school, for the worse drudgery of dependence on a political patron, from whom, after all, he derived no advantage. When Steele resigned his place of commissioner in the stamp-office, Fenton applied to his patron, who told him that it was beneath his merit, and promised him a superior appointment; but this, the subsequent change of administration prevented him from fulfilling, and left Fenton disappointed, and in debt. Not long after, however, his old friend the earl of Orrery appointed him tutor to his son, lord Broghill, a boy of seven years old, whom he taught English and Latin until he was thirteen. About the time this engagement was about to expire, Craggs, secretary of state, feeling his own want of literature, desired Pope to procure him an instructor, by whose help he might supply the deficiencies of his education. Pope recommended Fenton, but Craggs’s sudden death disappointed the pleasing expectations formed from this connection.

, a person memorable for public benefactions and charities, was born at Ipswich in Sutfolk, in June 1633. His parents, whowere puritans, and very reputable and substantial people, at a proper age put out their son to an apprenticeship in London. His master was an Arminian, a hearer of Mr. John Goodwin; to whose sermons young Firmin resorting, “exchanged, 77 as we are told,” the harsh opinions of Calvin, in which he had been educated, for those more reasonable ones of Arminius and the remonstrants.“But here he did not stop: being what is called a free inquirer into religious matters, he was afterwards carried by this spirit and temper to espouse some opinions totally at variance with the orthodox faith: he became persuaded, for instance,” that “the unity of God is an unity of person as well as of nature; and that the Holy Spirit is indeed a person, but not God.” He adopted these principles first from the noted Biddle, who was imprisoned for his opinions in 1645, and Firmin was so zealous in his cause, that when he was only an apprentice, he delivered a petition for his release to Oliver Cromwell, who gave him this laconic answer: “You curl-pated boy, do you think I'll show any favour to a man that denies his Saviour, and disturbs the government?”

His life had as little of affectation in it as his writings: he was all nature, approaching to the extreme of simplicity or even stupidity, without a grain of art. He had a son, whom, after keeping a short time at. home, he recommended to the patronage of the president Harlay. Fontaine, being one day at a house where this son was come, did not know him again, but observed to the company, that he thought him a boy of parts and spirit. Being told that this promising youth was no other than his own son, he answered very unconcernedly, “Ha truly I am glad on't.” This apathy, which so many philosophers have vainly affected, was perfectly natural to Fontaine; it ran through every part of his behaviour, and seemed to render him insensible to every thing without. As he had a wonderful facility in composing, so he had no particular apartment for that purpose, but went to work wherever the humour came upon him. One morning, madam de Bouillon going to Versailles, spied him deep in thought under a tree; and, when she returned in the evening, there was Fontaine in the same place and attitude, though the day had been cold, and much rain fallen. Whether from the same simplicity, or rather, we think, absolute stupidity, we are told that he did not perceive the evil tendency of his writings, not even of his Tales; for being once exhorted by his confessor in a severe illness to prayer and almsgiving, he replied, “I can give no alms for I have nothing to give: but there is a new edition of my Tales in the press, of which the bookseller is to let me have a hundred copies; I will give them to you, that you may sell them for the benefit of the poor.” Another time having written a Tale, in which he made a very profane application of these words of the gospel “Lord, thou deliveredst unto me five talents” he addressed it to the celebrated M. Arnauld, in a very ingenious prologue, “wishing,.” he said, “to show posterity his great esteem for this learned doctor;” nor did he perceive the indecency of the application of scripture, or of his dedication, till Boileau and Kacine made him sensible of it. Notwithstanding their advice, the same is said to have been his design agairr, with respect to another Tale, which he was going to dedicate to M. Harlai, archbishop of Paris.

, an ecclesiastical writer, was borti at Telepta, or Tellepte, about the year 468. He was of an illustrious family, the son of Claudius, and grandson of Gordianus, a senator of Carthage. Claudius dying early, left his son, then very young, to the care of his widow Mariana. He was properly educated in the knowledge of the Latin and Greek languages, and made such progress in his studies, that while yet a boy he could repeat all Homer, and spoke Greek with fluency and purity. As soon as he was capable of an employment he was made procurator or receiver of the revenues of his province. But this situation displeased him, because of the rigour he was forced to use in levying taxes; and therefore, notwithstanding the tears and dissuasions of his mother, he left the world, and took the monastic vows under Faustus, a bishop persecuted by the Arian faction, who had founded a monastery in that neighbourhood. The continued persecutions of the Arians soon separated him and Faustus; and not long after, the incursions of the Moors obliged him to retire into the country of Sicca, where he was whipped and imprisoned. Afterwards he resolved to go into Egypt; but in his voyage was dissuaded by Eulalius bishop of Syracuse, because the monks of the East had separated from the catholic church. He consulted also a bishop of Africa, who had retired into Sicily; and this bishop advised him to return to his own country, after he had made a journey to Rome. King Theodoric was in that city when he arrived there, which was in the year 500. After he had visited the sepulchres of the apostles he returned to his own country, where he built a monastery.

, a celebrated English divine, and master of Pembroke-hal in Cambridge, wns born in London, and educated in St. John’s college, Cambridge, of which he was chosen fellow in 1564. He was a youth of great parts, and of a very high spirit. When a boy at school, he is said to have betrayed great anger and mortification on losing a literary contest for a silver pen, with the celebrated Edmund Campian, and as the latter was educated at Christ’s hospital, this incident seems to prove that t'ulke was of the same school. Before he became fellow of his college, he complied with the wishes of his father, by studying law at Clirtbrd’s-inn, but on his return to the university, his inclinations became averse to that pursuit, and he was unable to conquer them, although his father refused to support him any longer. Young Fulke, however, trusted to his industry and endowments, and soon became a distinguished scholar in mathematics, languages, and divinity. Having taken orders, his early intimacy with some of the puritan divines induced him t< preach in favour of some of their sentiments respecting the ecclesiastical habits and ceremonies. This occurred about 1565, and brought upon him the censure of the chancellor of the university, which, it is said, proceeded to expulsion. On this he took lodgings in the town of Cambridge, and subsisted for some time by reading lectures. His expulsion, however, if it really took place, which seems doubtful, did not lessen his general reputation, as in 1561) there was an intention to choose him master of St. John’s college, had not archbishop Parker interfered but about the same time he found a patron in the earl of Leicester, who was more indulgent to the puritans, and who received Mr. luilke into his house, as his chaplain. It was now also that he fell under the charge of being concerned in some unlawful marriages, and in such circumstances thought it his duty to resign his fellowship, but being honourably acquitted in an examination before the bishop of Ely, he was immediately re-elected by the college.

The subjects he chose for representation were generally rery simple, to which his own excellent taste knew how to give expression and value. In his landscapes a rising mound and a few figures seated upon, or near it; with a cow or some sheep grazing, and a slight marking of disstance, sufficed for the objects; their charm was the purity of tone in the colour; the freedom and clearness of thfc touch; together with an agreeable combination of the forms; and with these simple materials, which appear so easy as to be within every one’s grasp, but which constantly elude the designer who is not gifted with his feeling and taste, does he always produce a pleasing picture. In his fancy pictures the same taste prevailed. A collage girl; a shepherd’s boy; a woodman; with very slight materials in the back-ground, were treated by him with so much character, yet so much elegance, that they never fail to delight.

, a learned divine, and an eminent preacher among the baptists, was born May 26, 1680, at London. His father was a citizen of good repute; and observing the natural turn of his son to be from his infancy grave and composed, he resolved to breed him for the ministry. He spared no cost jn his education, and the boy’s diligence was such, that, both in school and out of school, heapplied attentively to his learning, and became not only master of the Latin and Greek, but of the Hebrew language, at the age of seventeen; when he was sent to Ley den, to finish what he had so happily begun. Soon after his arrival there he received the news of his mother’s death, and, being sensible that this would hasten his return home, he made it a spur to his industry; and so surprisingiwas.his progress in academical learning, that he was thought. -worthy of the degrees of master of arts and doctor of philosophy in his nineteenth year, and accordingly received those honours in 1699, having performed the usual exercises with universal applause . This extraordinary testimony of his son’s merit could not fail to be very acceptable to the father; and the rector of the university communicated it, in a strong letter of commendation. Upon this occasion our author published his “Thesis,” and dedicated it to his father and his two uncles, sir John and sir Joseph Wolf; and a aioble attestation of his merit was subjoined by Adrian Ileland in a Latin panegyric.

, a very eminent mathematician and philosopher, was born Jan. 22, N. S. 1592, at a village called Chantersier, about three miles from Digne in Provence, in France. His father, Antony Gassendi, a Roman catholic, educated him with great piety, and the first words he learned to pronounce were those of his prayers. This practice made such an impression upon his infant mind, that at four years of age he demonstrated the good effects of it in reproving or exhorting his playfellows, as occasion prompted. In these first years of his youth he likewise took particular delight in gazing at the moon and stars, in clear uncloudy weather, and was so intent on these observations in solitary places, that his parents had him often to seek, not without many anxious fears. At a proper age they put him to school at Digne, to Godfrey Wendeline, an excellent master, under whose care he made a quick and extraordinary progress in learning. In a very short time he learned not only the elements of the Latin language, but was so far advanced in rhetoric as to be superior to all the boys in that school; and some friends who had witnessed his proficiency, recommended to have him removed, in order to study philosophy under Fesay, a very learned Minorite friar, then at Aix. This proposal was not much relished by his father, whose design was to breed up his son in his own way to country business, or farming, as a more profitable employment than that of a scholar, nor would he consent but upon condition that the boy should return home in two years at farthest. Young Gassendi accordingly, at the end of his allotted time, repaired to Chantersier; but he did not stay there long, being invited to be a teacher of rhetoric at Digne, before he was full sixteen years of age; and he had been engaged in this not above three years, when his master Fesay dying, he was made professor of philosophy in his room at Aix.

, or, as some spell the name, Gessner (Solomon), a distinguished German poet, was born at Zurich in 1730. His youth afforded no remarkable symptoms of his future fame, but his father was assured that the boy had talents, which would one day or other exalt him above his school-fellows. As. these, however, were not perceptible at that time, and the progress he made in school-learning at Zurich was unpromising, he was sent to Berg, and put under the care of a clergyman, where he appears to have made greater proficiency. In about two years he returned to his father, who was a bookseller at Zurich, and, probably encouraged by the men of genius who frequented his father’s shop, our author now began to court the muses. His success, however, not being such as to induce his father to devote him to a literary life, he preferred sending him to Berlin in 1749 to learn the trade of a bookseller. Young poets are not easily confined by the shackles of commercial life, and young Gesner soon eloped from his master, while his father, irritated at this step, discontinued his remittances as the most effectual mode of recalling him ta his duty.

, an eminent musician, and in many respects the greatest performer on the violin during the last century, was a native of Piedmont; and when a boy, was a chorister in the Duomo at Milan, under Paladini, of whom he learned singing, the harpsichord, and composition; but having previously manifested a partiality for the violin, his father recalled him to Turin, in order to receive instructions on that instrument of the famous Somis. He went to Rome early in his life, and afterwards to Naples, where, having obtained a place among ripienos in the opera orchestra, he used to flourish and change passages much more frequently than he ought to have done. “However,” says Giardini, of whom Dr. Burney had this account, “I acquired great reputation among the ignorant for my impertinence yet one night, during the opera, Jomellfc who had composed it, came into the orchestra, and seating himself close by, me, I determined to give the maestro di cappella a touch of my taste and execution; and in the symphony of the next song, which was in a pathetic style, I gave loose to my fingers and fancy; for which I was rewarded by the composer with a violent slap in the face; which,” adds Giardini, “was the best lesson I ever received from a great master in my life.” Jomelli, after this, was however very kind, in a different way, to this young and wonderful musician.

To Oxford, he informs us, he brought “a stock of erudition that might have puzzled a doctor, and a degree of ignorance of which a school-boy would have been ashamed.” During the last three years, although sickness interrupted a regular course of instruction, his fondBess for books increased, and he was permitted to indulge it by ranging over the shelves without plan or design. His indiscriminate appetite fixed by degrees in the historical line, and he perused with greatest avidity such historical books as came in his way, gratifying a curiosity of which he could not trace the source, and supplying wants which he could not express. In this course of desultory reading be seems inconsciously to have been led t6 that particular branch in which he was afterwards to excel. But whatever connection this had with his more distant life, it was by no means favourable to his academical pursuits. He was exceedingly deficient in classical learning, and went to Oxford without either the taste or preparation which could enable him to reap the advantages of academical education. This may probably account for the harshness with which he speaks of the English universities. He informs us that he spent fourteen months at Magdalencollege, which proved the most idle and unprofitable of his whole life; but why they were so idle and unprofitable, we cannot learn from his Memoirs. To the carelessness of his tutors, indeed, he appears to have had some reason to object, but he allows that he was disposed to gaiety and to late hours, and therefore complains with little justice, that he was not taught what he affected to despise. The truth seems to be, that when he sat down to write his Memoirs, the memoirs of an eminent and accomolisued seholar, he found a blank which is seldom found in the bicM graphy of English scholars; the early displays of genius, the laudable emulation, and the well-earned honours; he found that he owed no fame to his academical residence, and therefore determined that no fame should be derivable from an univefsity education.

When he first left Magdalen-college, he informs us that his taste for books began to revive, and that “unprovided with original learning, unformed in the habits of thinking, unskilled in the arts of composition, he resolved to write a book.” The title of this first essay was “The Age of Sesostris,” the sheets of which he afterwards destroyed. On his return to college, want of advice, experience, and occupation, betrayed him into improprieties of conduct, late hours, ill-chosen company, and inconsiderate expense. In his frame of mind, indeed, there appears to have been originally a considerable proportion of juvenile arrogance and caprice. At the age of sixteen he tells us that his reading became of the religious kind, and after bewildering himself in the errors of the church of Rome, he was converted to its doctrines, if that can be called a conversion which was rather the adoption of certain opinions by a boy who had never studied those of his own church. This change, in whatever light it may be considered, he imputes principally to the works’ of Parsons the Jesuit, who in his opinion had urged all the best arguments in favour of the Roman catholic religion. Fortified with these, on. the 8th of Jdne 1753, he solemnly abjured what he calls the errors of heresy, before a catholic priest in London, and immediately announced the important event to his father in a very laboured epistle. His father regretted the change, but divulged the secret, and thus rendered his return to Magdalen college impossible. At an advanced age, and when he had learned to treat all religions with equal indifference, our author speaks of this conversion with a vain respect, declaring himself not ashamed to have been entangled by the sophistry which seduced the acute and manly understandings of Chillingworth and Bayle. The resemblance is more close, however, in the transition which, he adds, they made from superstition to scepticism.

When in order to enlighten the nation in true learning and religion, public schools began to be recommended, Mr. Gilpin endeavoured to promote the good work with the utmost of his ability. As his manner of living was most affluent and generous, and his hospitality and charities made daily a larger demand upon him, it was thought extraordinary, that, amidst such great expences, he should entertain the design of building and endowing a grammar school; yet his exact ceconomy soon enabled him to accomplish this, and the effects of his endowment were very quickly seen: his school was no sooner opened than it began to flourish, and to afford the agreeable prospect of a succeeding generation rising above the ignorance and errors of their forefathers. He not only placed able masters in his school, whom he procured from Oxford, but himself constantly inspected it, and took an active part in the education of the scholars. Such was his benevolence that whenever he met with a poor boy upon the road, he would make trial of his capacity l)y a few questions; and if he found it such as pleased him, he would provide for his education. From the school also he sent several to the universities, where he maintained them wholly at his own expence. Nor was this munificent and uncommon care unrewarded. Many of his scholars became great ornaments to the church, and exemplary instances of piety, among whom have been particularly mentioned, Henry Ayray, afterwards provost of Queen’s college; George Carleton, bishop of Chichester; and Hugh Broughton. It was also at Mr. Gilpin’s suggestion that his friend bishop Pilkington founded a school at the place of his nativity in Lancashire, the statutes of which he revised and corrected at the bishop’s request. Mr. Gilpin’s general reputation for learning and piety, made it the desire of persons of all religious persuasions to have their cause credited by his authority; and among others, the first dissenters, or puritans, who had contracted prejudices against certain church ceremonies, habits, &c. made early applications to Mr. Gilpin, but without effect. The reformation, he said, was just; essentials were there concerned; hut at present he saw no ground for disaffection. " The church of England, he thought, gave no reasonable offence. Some things there might be in it, which had been perhaps as well avoided (probably meaning the use of the vestments), but to disturb the peace of a nation for such trifles, he thought, was quite unchristian. And what indeed appeared to him chiefly blameable in the dissenters, was, that heat of temper with which they propagated their opinions, and treated those who differed from them. Such was not his practice, for he confined all his dislike to their sentiments, urged with intemperate warmth, but bore not the least ill-will to their persons. One of the most intimate friends he ever had was Mr. Lever, a minister of their persuasion, and a sufferer in their cause. It is almost needless to add, that he found it equally or more easy to resist the solicitations of the papists, who lamented, as they well might, that so good a man had forsaken their communion, and consequently they left no methods untried to bring him back.

, an eminent painter, sculptor, and architect, was born in 1276, at a village near Florence, of parents who were plain country people. When a boy, he was sent out to keep sheep in the fields; and, having a natural inclination for design, he used to amuse himself with drawing his flock after the life upon sand, in the best manner he could. Cimabue travelling once that way, found him at this work, and thence conceived so good an opinion of his genius for painting, that he prevailed with his father to let him go to Florence, and be brought up under him. He had not applied himself long to designing, before he began to shake off the stiffness of the Grecian masters. He endeavoured to give a finer air to his heads, and more of nature to his colouring, with proper actions to his figures. He attempted likewise to draw after the life, and to express the different passions of the mind; but could not come up to the liveliness of the eyes, the tenderness of the flesh, or the strength of the muscles in naked figures. What he did, however, had not been done in, two centuries before, with any skill equal to his. Giotto’s reputation was so far extended, that pope Benedict IX. sent a gentleman of his court into Tuscany, to bring him a just report of his talents; and withal to bring him a design from each of the Florentine painters, being desirous to have some notion of their skill. When he came to Giotto, he told him of the pope’s intentions, which were to employ him in St. Peter’s church at Rome; and desired him to send some design by him to his holiness. Giotto, who was a pleasant ready man, took a sheet of white paper, and setting his arm close to his hip to keep it steady, he drew with one stroke of his pencil a circle so round and so equal, that “round as Giotto’s O” afterwards became proverbial. Then, presenting it to the gentleman, he told him smiling, that “there was a piece of design, which he might carry to his holiness.” The man replied, “I ask for a design:” Giotto answered, “Go, sir, I tell you his holiness asks nothing else of me.” The pope, who understood something of painting, easily comprehended by this, how much Giotto in strength of design excelled all the other painters of his time; and accordingly sent for him to Rome. Here he painted many pieces, and amongst the rest a ship of Mosaic work, which is over the three gates of the portico, in the entrance to St. Peter’s church, and is known to painters by the name of Giotto’s vessel. Pope Benedict was succeeded by Clement V. who transferred the papal court to Avignon; whither, likewise, Giotto was obliged to go. After some stay there, having perfectly satisfied the pope by many fine specimens of his art, he was largely rewarded, and returned to Florence full of riches and honour in 1316. He was soon invited to Padua, where he painted a new-built chapel very curiously; thence he went to Verona, and then to Ferrara. At the same time the poet Dante, hearing that Giotto was at Ferrara, and being himself then in exile at Ravenna, got him over to Ravenna, where he executed several pieces; and perhaps it might be here that he drew Dante’s picture, though the friendship between the poet and the painter was previous to this. In 1322, he was again invited abroad by Castruccio Castrucani, lord of Luca; and, after that, by Robert king of Naples. Giotto painted much at Naples, and chiefly the chapel, where the king was so pleased with him, that he used very often to go and sit by him while he was at work: for,Giotto was a man of pleasant conversation and wit. One day, it being very hot, the king said to him, “If I were you, Giotto, I would leave off working this hot weather” “and so would I, Sir,” says Giotto, “if I were you.” He returned from Naples to Rome, and from Rome to Florence, leaving monuments of his art in almost every place through which he passed. There is a picture of his in one of the churches of Florence, representing the death of the blessed Virgin, with the apostles about her: the attitudes of which story, Michael Angelo used to say, could not be better designed. Giotto, however, did not confine his genius altogether to painting: he was both a sculptor and architect. In 1327 he formed the design of a magnificent and beautiful monument for Guido Tarlati, bishop of Arezzo, who had been the head of the Ghibeline faction in Tuscany: and in 1334 he undertook the famous tower of Sancta Maria del Fiore; for which work, though it was not finished, he was made a citizen of Florence, and endowed with a considerable yearly pension. His death happened in 1336: and the city of Florence erected a marble statue over his tomb. He had the esteem and friendship of most of the excellent men of the age in which he lived and among the rest, of Dante and Petrarch. He drew, as already noticed, the picture of the former and the latter mentions him in his will, and in one of his familiar epistles.

, an eminent poet and miscellaneous writer, was born on Nov. 29, 1728, at a place called Pallas, in the parish of Forney and county of Longford in Ireland. His father, the rev. Charles Goldsmith, a native of the county of Roscommon, was a clergyman of the established church, and had been educated at Dublin college. He afterwards held the living of Kilkenny West in the county of Westmeath. By his wife, Anne, the daughter of the rev. Oliver Jones, master of the diocesan school of Elphin, he had five sons, and two daughters. His eldest son, Henry, went into the church, and is the gentleman to whom our poet dedicated his “Traveller.” Oliver was the second son, and is supposed to have faithfully represented his father in the character of the Village Preacher in the “Deserted Village.” Oliver was originally intended for some mercantile employment, as his father found his income too scanty for the expences of the literary education which he had bestowed on his eldest son. With this view he was instructed in reading, writing, and arithmetic, at a common school, the master of which was an old soldier, of a romantic turn, who entertained his pupil with marvellous stories of his travels and feats, and is supposed to have imparted somewhat of that wandering and unsettled turn which so much appeared in his pupil’s future life. It is certain that Oliver had not been long at this humble school before he proved that he was “no vulgar boy.” He made some attempts in poetry when he was scarcely eight years old, and by the inequalities of his temper and conduct, betrayed a disposition more favourable io the flights of genius than the regularity of business. This after some time became so obvious, that his frfends, who had at first pleaded for his being sent to the university, now determined to contribute towards the expence, and by their assistance, he was placed at a school of reputation, where he might be qualified to enter the college with the advantages of preparatory learning.

* “From this most accomplished, the guide.” This may probably alas well as learned man,“says Mr. lude to some early view Mr. Gough Gough in a fragment of his own memoirs, entertained of rising in public life; and” I must acknowledge myself to have he afterwards gives hints of being long derived great advantage and had he restrained and controuled in the purbeen left to indulge the liberality of suits to which he subsequently was led his temper, uncontrouled by female by inclination, and which became haand maternal partiality and peculia- bitual. In another place he says, rity, 1 might have been forwarded in “Jhe year 1774, by the death of my tfhat style of life to which it was his mother, made me cmpletety master ambition to train me, and to which I of myself.' 1 ever after wanted both the spur and three sheets. The style is throughout juvenile and simple; and such were even at this early age our author’s notions of literary honour, that he would receive no aid without acknowledgment, and therefore page 24, which contains an account of the furniture and inhabitants of Noah’s ark, is introduced with these words:” The printer gives you this explanation." It is impossible not to contemplate this volume with a strong impression of the excellent and amiable disposition which conducted a mere boy, unwearied and pleased, through so laborious a task. Mr. Gough himself, in his mature years, appears to have looked at it with complacency; and the copy in Mr. Nichols’s possession, is filled with corrections and improvements of the language.

About this time he was presented to an exhibition (or bursary, as it is called) in the university of St. Andrew, which he accepted, but found reason soon after to decline, upon discovering that it subjected him to repeat a course of languages and philosophy, which the extent of his acquisitions, and the ardour of his ambition, taught him to hold in no great estimation. In 1770, therefore, he resumed his studies at Edinburgh, and, having finished the usual preparatory course, was admitted into the theological class: but the state of his health, which soon after began to decline, did not allow him to deliver any of the exercises usually prescribed to students in that society. In autumn 1771, his ill-health, that had been increasing almost unperceived, terminated in a deep consumption; the complicated distress of which, aggravated by the indigence of his situation, he bore with an heroic composure and magnanimity, and continued at intervals to compose verses, and to correspond with his friends, until after a tedious struggle often months, he expired July 26, 1772, in the 24th year of his age. His poems, consisting of elegies and miscellaneous pieces, were collected, and printed at Edinburgh, 1773, 8vo. There are few of them entitled to superior praise, and certainly none that can justify the length to which the detail of his life and opinions has been extended. Unfortunately als, these poems were reprinted in a late collection, and among them a specimen of his Latin poetry, called a Sapphic ode, and styled “a correct and manly performance for a boy of fifteen.” But so far from being correct, it is not even a decent attempt, and the lines are formed with such total ignorance of the Sapphic measure, that it has justly been said, “a boy producing such at one of our public schools could only be considered as intending to insult the master.” It seems difficult, therefore, to form any judgment of the illiteracy of those “most industrious and accomplished students of his standing,” whom he surpassed in “classical learning.”

Having accepted this offer, he was employed, as formerly, on missions to Umbria, Milan, and other places, but now his tranquillity was disturbed by a domestic affair, in which he fancied he had been improperly treated;Alexander, his eldest son, who, in 1587, had married a rich heiress, niece to cardinal Canani, being weary of living under the subjection of his father, and disgusted, whether justly or not, with the treatment he met with from him, resolved to leave his house, and live apart with his wife. Guarino was so highly offended at their departure, that he immediately seized their income, on pretence of debts due to him for money expended at their marriage. His son, deprived of his income for nine months, at last applied to the duke of Ferrara to interpose his authority, which he did, commanding the chief judge to take cognizance of the affair, who immediately decided it in favour of Alexander. This sentence exasperated the father still more; so that, looking on it as a proof that the duke had no regard for him, he addressed a letter to him in the most respectful but strongest terms, to be dismissed the service; which the duke granted, though not without intimating some displeasure at Guarino, for shewing so little regard to the favours he had conferred on him. The treatment, however, which Tasso had suffered was a recent lesson for the poets who iiad the misfortune to be patronized by Alphonso, and Guarino immediately went into the service of the duke of Savoy, where he had some reason to expect a better lot; but here he did not remain many months; and during a year of repose in the country, he resumed his labours on his favourite pastoral, which at length was published in 1590, at Venice, 4to, and the same year at Ferrara, in 12mo. The great applause which he received from this poem, was followed by a most severe loss in the death of his wile, Dec. 25, 1590, at Padua. This misfortune appears to have greatly affected him. His two eldest sons had left him two of his daughters were married three others he had placed in convents and from being surrounded by a numerous family, he was now left with one boy only often years old. In this desolate state he appears to have entertained thoughts of going to Home and becoming an ecclesiastic. He was, however, diverted from this step by an invitation received in 1592 from the duke of Mantua, who sent him to Inspruck to negociate some affairs at the archduke’s court. But he afterwards was dismissed this service, as he had been that of Ferrara, by the solicitations of duke Alphonso; who, it is said, could not bear that a subject of his, of Guarino’s merit, should serve other princes. Thus persecuted, he went to Rome apparently with the design just mentioned, but was again prevented from executing it by a reconciliation with Alphonso, which brought him back to Ferrara in 1595. This reconciliation was obtained by his son Alexander, who was very much beloved at court. However, fresh quarrels between father and son soon broke out again, which were afterwards carried to a great height; and, great changes happening upon the death of Alphonso in 1597, Guarino thought himself ill used, and left Ferrara to go to Ferdinand de Medicis, grand duke of Tuscany, who expressed a great esteem for him.

It has been said of him, that out of his profession he was ignorant and dull, but, if the fact was as true as it is severe, it must be allowed in extenuation, that to possess a difficult art in the perfect manner in which he did, and to be possessed by it, seems a natural consequence, and all that the public had a right to expect, as he pretended to nothing more. So occupied and absorbed was Handel by the study and exercise of his profession, that he had little time to bestow, either on private amusements or the cultivation of friendship. Indeed, the credit and reverence arising from these, had Handel possessed them, would have been transient, and confined to his own age and acquaintance; whereas the fame acquired by silent and close application to his professional business is universal. Dr. Burney thinks it probable that his name, like that of many of his brethren, will long survive his works. The most learned man can give us no information concerning either the private life or compositions of Orpheus, Amphion, Linus, Olympus, Terpander, or Timotheus, yet every school-boy can tell us that they were great musicians, the delight of their several ages, and many years after, of posterity. Though totally free from the sordid vices of meanness and avarice, and possessed of their opposite virtues, charity and generosity, in spite of temporary adversity, powerful enemies, and frequent maladies of body, which sometimes extended to intellect, Handel died worth upwards of 20,000l.; which, except 1000l. to the fund for decayed musicians and their families, he chiefly bequeathed to his relations on the continent.

Sir John had a cenotaph in the church of his native town, erected by his executors Robert Rokeden senior and junior, and John Coe. It is described by Weever, as “a tomb arched over, and engraven to the likeness of hawks flying in a wood,” which, Fuller says, was “quite flown away.” It is plain the last of these writers never took any pains to visit or procure true information about this monument, which still remains in good preservation near the upper end of the fourth aile of Sible Hedingham church. The arch of this tomb is of the mixed kind, terminating in a sort of bouquet, on both sides of which, over the arch, are smaller arches of tracery in relief. The arch is adorned with hawks and their bells, and other emblems of hunting, as, a hare, a boar, a boy sounding a conch-shell, &c. The two pillars that support it are charged with a dragon and lion. Under this arch is a low altar-tomb with five shields in quatrefoils, formerly painted. In the south window of the chantry chapel, at the east end of this aile, are painted hawks, hawks bells, and escallops, which last are part of the Hawkwood arms, as the first were probably the crest, as well as a rebus of the name; and we find a hawk volant on sir John’s seal. In the north and west side of the tower are two very neat hawks on perches in relief, in rondeaux hollowed in the wall: that over the west door is extremely well preserved. They probably denote that some of the family built the tower. Mr. Morant imagines some of them rebuilt this church about the reign of Edward III. but none appear to have been in circumstances equal to such munificence before our hero; and perhaps his heirs were the rebuilders.

In 1763-4-5, Mr. Heathcote preached the Boy lean lectures, twenty-four in number, at St. James’s, Westminster, by the appointment of the trustees, archbishop Seeker and the duke of Devonshire. He published, however, only two of them, in 1763; on the “Being of a God,” which soon passed into a second edition. In 1765, on the death of his father, he succeeded to the vicarage of Sileby, and in 1766 was presented to the rectory of Sawtry-All-Saints, in Huntingdonshire 5 and in 1768 to a prebend in the collegiate church of Southwell. “These,” he says, “in so short a compass, may look pompous; but their clear annual income, when curates were paid, and all expences deducted, did uot amount to more than 150l.” In 1771 he published “The Ireuarch, or Justice of the Peace’s Manna!,” a performance which, witii some singularities of opinion, was accounted both sensible and seasonable. He was now in the commission of the peace. A second edition of this work appeared in 1774, with a long dedication, to lord Mansfield, with a view to oppose the invectives levelled against that illustrious character in a time of political turbulence; and in 1781 he published a third edition, to which he gave his name.

, an eminent typographical antiquary, was born Nov. 29, 1718, and educated at Hitchin in Hertfordshire. He appears to have been originally destined for trade, as he was bound apprentice to a hosier in London, and carried on that business for some time on his own account. It is probable, however, that he did noj succeed, or became desirous of some other means of livelihood, and it is said that one time he studied the art of painting on glass. About his thirtieth year he accepted the situation of purser’s clerk to three East-India ships. He set sail in one of them which was to take in a lading of pepper at Tellicherry: but before she had completed that purpose, an alarm of six French men of war was given. The governor demanded thirty men out of each ship, as he had a power to do, for the defence of the place; and the ship sailed away without lights round the Lucadine islands, and by Mount Delhi, to Bombay. After the alarm was over they returned, and sent Mr. Herbert, in a miserable boat, without change of linen, to demand their men, whom the governor refused to give up, and he returned; but the ships having left their station, the boat could not find them, and the wind being against him, he was obliged to remain at Tellicherry. Being engaged to return to his ship by the middle of July, he was obliged to undertake a journey over land on the sixteenth of that month, with a Portuguese boy, (who understood a little English, Portuguesej and Parriar or Lingua Franca), twelve sepoys, eight porters, in all twenty, besides himself and boy; and went round by sea to Calicut, before he ascended the heights with two bramins, who were bound by their caste to conduct him safe. The anxiety at not meeting the ships at the appointed time, he did not recover for a twelvemonth: though he rejoined them August 8, at Fort St. David, Fort George being in the hands of the French.

, an eminent English divine, was born Jan. 1, 1659, atOcicombe in the county of Somerset, of which place his father was rector. He discovered while a boy, a great propensity to learning; and, in 1676, was admitted into Wadham-college, Oxford, of which he was chosen fellow in 1684. When he was only in his twenty-first year he published his “Dissertation against Aristeas’ s History of the Seventy-two Interpreters.” The substance of that history of Aristeas, concerning the seventy-two Greek interpreters of the Bible, is this: Ptolemy Philadelphus, king of Egypt, and founder of the noble library at Alexandria, being desirous of enriching that library with all sorts of books, committed the care of it to Demetrius Phalereus, a noble Athenian then living in his court. Demetrius being informed, in the course of his inquiries, of the Law of Moses among the Jews, acquainted the king with it; who signified his pleasure, that a copy of that book, which was then only in Hebrew, should be sent for from Jerusalem, with interpreters from the same place to translate it into Greek. A deputation was accordingly sent to Eleazar the high-priest of the Jews at Jerusalem; who sent a copy of the Hebrew original, and seventy-two interpreters, six out of each of the twelve tribes, to translate it into Greek. When they were come to Egypt the king caused them to be conducted into the island of Pharos near Alexandria, in apartments prepared for them, where they completed their translation in seventy-two days. Such is the story told by Aristeas, who is said to be one of king Ptolemy’s court. Hody shews that it is the invention of some Hellenist Jew; that it is full of anachronisms and gross blunders; and, in short, was written on purpose to recommend and give greater authority to the Greek version of the Old Testament, which from this story has received the name of the Septuagint. This dissertation was received with the highest applause by all the learned, except Isaac Vossius. Charles du Fresne spoke highly of it in his observations on the “Chrouicon Paschale,” published in 1688; and Menage, in his notes upon the second edition of “Diogenes Laertius,” gave Hody the titles of “eruditissimus, doctissimus, elegantissimus, &c.” but Vossius alone was greatly dissatisfied with it. He had espoused the contrary opinion, and could not bear that such a boy as Hody should presume to contend with one of his age and reputation for letters. He published therefore an appendix to his “Observations on Pomponius Mela,” and subjoined an answer to this dissertation of Hody’s; in which, however, he did not enter much into the argument, but contents himself with treating Hody very contemptuously, vouchsafing him no better title than Juvenis Oxoniensis, and sometimes using worse language. When Vossius was asked afterwards, what induced him to treat a young man of promising hopes, and who had certainly deserved well of the republic of letters, so very harshly, he answered, that he had received some time before a rude Latin epistle from Oxford, of which he suspected Hody to be the author; and that this had made him deal more severely with him than he should otherwise have done. Vossius had indeed received such a letter; but it was written, according to the assertion of Creech, the translator of Lucretius, without Hody’s knowledge or approbation. When Hody published his “Dissertation, &c.” he told the reader in his preface, that he had three other books preparing upon the Hebrew text, and Greek version but he was now so entirely drawn away from these studies by other engagements, that he could not find time to complete his work, and to answer the objections of Vossius, till more than twenty years after. In 1704, he published it altogether, with this title, “De Bibliorum textibns originalibus, versionibus Grsecis, et Latina Vulgata, libri IV. &c.” The first book contains his dissertation against Aristeas’s history, which is here reprinted with improvements, and an answer to Vossius’s objections. In the second he treats of the true authors of the Greek version called the Septuagint; of the time when, and the reasons why, it was undertaken, and of the manner in which it was performed. The third is a history of the Hebrew text, the Septuagint version, and of the Latin Vulgate; shewing the authority of each in different ages, and that the Hebrew text has been always most esteemed and valued. In the fourth he gives an account of the rest of the Greek versions, namely, those of Symmachus, Aquila. and Theodotion; of Origen’s “Hexapla,” and other ancient editions; and subjoins lists of the books of the Bible at different times, which exhibit a concise, but full and clear view of the canon of Holy Scripture. Upon the whole, he thinks it probable, that the Greek version, called the Septuagint, was done in the time of the two Ptolemies, Lagus and Philadelphus; and that it was not done by order of king Ptolemy, or under the direction of Demetrius Phalereus, in order to be deposited in the Alexandrine library, but by Hellenist Jews for the use of their own countrymen.

, an excellent classical scholar, the son of the rev. Henry Homer, rector of Birdingbury, in Warwickshire, who died a few months after this son, in 1791, was born in 1752, and at the age of seven was sent to Rugby school, where he remained seven years, and became the head-boy of about sixty. He afterwards went to Birmingham-school, where he remained three years more. In November 1768, he was admitted of Emanuel-college, Cambridge, under Dr. Farmer, where he became acquainted with Dr. Samuel Parr, and was in some measure directed in his studies by this eminent scholar. He proceeded regularly to his degree of B. A. in 1773, of M. A. in 1776, and that of B. D. in 1783. He was elected fellow of his college in 1778, but had lived in Warwickshire about three years before he became fellow, and returned to the university soon after his election. He then resided much at Cambridge, frequently visiting the public library, and making himself acquainted with the history or contents of many curious books which are noticed only by scholars, and particularly turned his attention to several philological works of great utility and high 'reputation. He was well versed in the notes subjoined to some of the best editions of various authors; and of his general erudition the reader will form no unfavourable opinion from the following account of the works in which he was engaged. He joined with Dr. Parr in the republication of Bellenden’s Tracts in 1787, and about the same year published three books of “Livy,” viz. the 1st, 25th, and 31st from Drachenborch’s edition, with dissertations, &c. This was followed by, 1. “Tractatus varii Latini aCrevier, Brotier,” &c. 1788. 2. Ovid’s “Epistles” ex editione Burman. 1789. 3. “Sallust. ex cditione Cortii,” 1789. 4. “Pliny, ex editione Cortii et Longolii,” 1790; 5. “Caesar, ex edit. Oudendorp,” 1790. 6. “Persius ex edit. Heninii.” 7. “Tacitus, ex edit, Brotier,” complete all but the Index. 8. “Livy” and “Quintilian,” in the press at the time of his death. He also intended to have published “Quintus Curtius,” but no steps were taken towards it. To these, however, may be added his “Tacitus de Moribus Germanorum et de Vita Agricolje,” 1788, and Tacitus “De Oratoribus,” 1789. Dr. Parr having considered him as a very proper person to undertake a variorum edition of Horace, he had made some progress in that work, which was finally published by Dr. Combe, and occasioned a paper-war between Dr. Combe and Dr. Parr, which we had rather refer to than detail. Mr. Homer, in consequence of some religious scruples, refused to take priest’s orders, when by the founder’s statutes he was required to take them, in order to preserve the rank he had attained in the college; in consequence of which his fellowship was declared vacant in June 1788. HediedMay4, 1791, of a decline, hastened, if not occasioned, by too close an attention to his literary pursuits. The works he left unfinished were completed by his brothers, but, we are sorry to hear, have not met with that encouragement from the public, which they amply merit.

, an eminent English divine, and author of an excellent work, entitled “The Laws of Ecclesiastical Polity, in eight books,” was born at Heavytree near Exeter, about the end of March 1554. His parents, not being rich, intended him for a trade; but his schoolmaster at Exeter prevailed with them to continue him at school, assuring them, that his natural endowments and learning were both so remarkable, that he must of necessity be taken notice of, and that God would provide him some patron who would free them from any future care or charge about him. Accordingly his uncle John Hooker, the subject of the preceding article, who was then chamberlain of the town, began to notice him; and being known to Jewell, made a visit to that prelate at Salisbury soon after, and “besought him for charity’s sake to look favourably upon a poor nephew of his, whom nature had fitted for a scholar; bill the estate of his parents was so narrow, that they were unable to give him the advantage of learning; and that the bishop therefore would become his patron, and prevent him from being a tradesman, for he was a boy of remarkable hopes.” The bishop examining into his merits, found him to be what the uncle had represented him, and took him immediately under his protection. He got him admitted, in 1567, one of the clerks of Corpus-Christi college in Oxford, and settled a pension on him; which, with the contributions of his uncle, afforded him a very comfortable subsistence. In 1571, Hooker had the misfortune to lose his patron, together with his pension. Providence, however, raised him up two other patrons, in Dr. Cole, then president of the college, and Dr. Edwyn Sandys, bishop of London, and afterwards archbishop of York. To the latter of these Jewell had recommended him so effectually before his death, that though of Cambridge himself, he immediately resolved to send his son Edwyn to Oxford, to be pupil to Hooker, who yet was not much older; for, said he, “I will have a tutor for my son, that shall teach him learning by instruction, and virtue by example.” Hooker had also another considerable pupil, namely, George Cranmer, grand nephew to Cranmer the archbishop and martyr; with whom, as well as with Sandys, he cultivated a strict and lasting friendship. In 1573, he was chosen scholar of Corpus, and in 1577, having taken his master’s degree, was elected fellow of his college; and about two years after, being well skilled in the Oriental languages, was appointed deputy-professor of Hebrew, in the room of Kingsmill, who was disordered in his senses. In 1581, he entered into orders; and soon after, being appointed to preach at St. Paul’s-cross in London, was so unhappy as to be drawn into a most unfortunate marriage; of which, as it is one of the most memorable circumstances of his life, we shall give the particulars as they are related by Walton. There was then belonging to the church of St. Paul’s, a house called the Shunamites house, set apart for the reception and entertainment of the preachers at St. Paul’s cross, two days before, and one day after the sermon. That house was then kept by Mr. John Churchman, formerly a substantial draper in Watluig-sti'eet, but now reduced to poverty. Walton says, that Churchman was a person of virtue, but that he cannot say quite so much of his wife. To this house Hooker came from Oxford so wet and weary, that he was afraid he should not be able to perform his duty the Sunday following: Mrs. Churchman, however, nursed him so well, mat he presently recovered from the ill effects of his journey. For this he was very thankful; so much indeed that, as Walton expresses it, be thought himself bound in conscience to believe all she said; so the good man came to be persuaded by her, “that he had a very tender constitution; and that it was best for him to have a wife, that might prove a nurse to him; such a one as might both prolong his life, and make it more comfortable; and such a one she could and would provide for him, if he thought fit to marry.” Hooker, not considering “that the children of this world are wiser in their generation than the children of light,” and fearing no guile, because he meant none, gave her a power to choose a wife for him; promising, upon a fair summons, to return to London, and accept of her choice, which he did in that or the year following. Now, says Walton, the wife provided for him was her daughter Joan, who brought him neither beauty nor portion; and for her conditions, they were too like that wife’s which Solomon compares to a dripping-house; that is, says Wood, she was “a clownish silly woman, and withal a mere Xantippe.”

, a dramatic poet and translator, was the son of Samuel Hoole, of London, watch-maker, by Sarah his wife, the daughter of James Drury, a clockmaker, whose family came from Warwickshire. He was born in. Moorfields, in December 1727, and received part of his early instruction from his uncle, a taylor, who lived in Grub-street. He was afterwards sent to a private boarding-school in Hertfordshire, kept by Mr. James Bennet, the publisher of Roger Ascham’s works, where he acquired an accurate knowledge of the Latin and French languages, and a small portion of the Greek. His father, who had carried on the business of watch-making to considerable advantage, in consequence of some newly-invented machinery of his own construction, wished to have his son brought up to his own trade, but his being extremely near-sighted proved an insuperable objection, and therefore, at the age of seventeen, he was placed as a clerk in the East- India-house, in the accountant’s office. At this time, as he often accompanied his father to the theatre, who had access behind the scenes, and assisted in constructing some of the pantomime scenery, he contracted a fondness for this amusement which might have been fatal to him, for he had no qualifications for the stage, had not his father prevented him. He employed his leisure hours, therefore, more profitably, in improving himself in the Latin, and especially the Italian tongue, which last he studied with a view to be able to read in the original his favourite Ariosto, of whom, when a boy, he became enamoured by reading the “Orlando Furioso” in sir John Harrington’s old translation.

, a great mathematician of France, was born of a branch of the preceding family, in 1661. He was a geometrician almost from his infancy; for one day being at the duke de Rohan’s, where some able mathematicians were speaking of a problem of PaschaPs, which appeared to them extremely difficult, he ventured to say, that he, believed he could solve it. They were amazed at what appeared such unpardonable presumption in a boy of fifteen, for he was then no more, yet it a few days be sent them the solution. He entered early into the army, but always preserved his love for the mathematics, and studied them even in his tent; whither he used to retire, it is said, not only to study, but also to conceal his application to study: for in those days, to be knowing in the sciences was thought to derogate from nobility; and a soldier of quality, to preserve his dignity, was in some measure obliged to hide his literary attainments. De l'Hospital was a captain of horse; but, being extremely short-sighted, and exposed on that account to perpetual inconveniences and errors, he at length quitted the army, and applied himself entirely to his favourite amusement. He contracted a friendship with Malbranche, judging by his “Recherche de la Verite*,” that he must be an excellent guide in the sciences; and he took his opinion upon all occasions. His abilities and knowledge were no longer a secret: and at the age of thirty-two he gave a public solution of problems, drawn from the deepest geometry, which had been proposed to mathematicians in the acts of Leipsic. In 1693 he was received an honorary member of the academy of sciences at Paris; and published a work upon sir Isaac Newton’s calculations, entitled “L'Analyse des iniinimens petits.” He was the first in France who wrote on this subject: and on this account was regarded almost as a prodigy. He engaged afterwards in another work of the mathematical kind, in which he included “Les Sectiones coniques, les Lieux georoetriques, la Construction des Equations,” and “Une Theorie des Courbes mechaniques:” but a little before he had finished it, he was seized with a fever, of which he died Feb. 2, 1704, aged 49. It was published after his death, viz. in 1707. There are also six of his pieces inserted in different volumes of the memoirs of the academy of sciences.

Although he did not yet cease to be the boy, he frequently gave indications of the man, and perhaps in nothing more than the useful turn of his amusements, which generally had some reference to his studies, and proved that learning was uppermost in his mind. Of this disposition, the following anecdote, related by lord Teignmouth, is pleasingly characteristic. " He invented a political play, in which Dr. William Bennet, bishop of Cloyne, and the celebrated Dr. Parr, were his principal associates. They divided the fields in the neighbourhood of Harrow, according to a map of Greece, into states and kingdoms; each fixed upon one as his dominions, and assumed an ancient name. Some of their schoolfellows consented to be styled barbarians, who were to invade their territories, and attack their hillocks, which were denominated fortresses. The chiefs vigorously defended their respective domains against the incursions of the enemy; and in these imitative wars, the young statesmen held councils, made vehement harangues, and composed memorials; all doubtless very boyish, but calculated to fill their minds with ideas of legislation and civil government. In these unusual amusements, Jones was ever the leader; and he might justly have appropriated to himself the words of Catullus: ‘ Ego gymnasii flos, ego decus oleiY’

Dr. Bennet informs us that “great abilities, great particularity of thinking, fondness for writing verses and plays of various kinds, and a degree of integrity and manly courage, distinguished him even at this period.” And Dr. Thackeray, the master of the school, however niggardly in general of his praises before the objects of his esteem, confessed in private that “he was a boy of so active a mind, that if he were left naked and friendless on Salisbury Plain, he would nevertheless find the road to fame and riches.” When Dr. Sumrier succeeded Dr. Thackeray in 1761, he more publicly distinguished Mr. Jones, as one whose proficiency was marked by uncommon diligence and success. To a critical knowledge of Greek and Latin, he began now to add some acquaintance with the Hebrew, and even learned the Arabic characters, while during the vacations, he improved his former knowledge of the French and Italian languages. His ardent thirst for knowledge, however, at this time, induced him to study with so little intermission from sleep or exercise, that he was beginning to contract a weakness of sight. On this occasion, his friends interposed their advice, and for some time he consented to relax from fatigues so unsuitable to his tender age. It is probable, however, that he had already gone too far, for weakness of sight was one of the first complaints which impeded his studies when in India.

The account Jonson gave of himself to Drummond is jiot uninteresting. It was first published in the folia editiort of Drummond’s Works, 1711. “He,” Ben Jonson, "said that his grandfather came from Carlisle, to which he had come from Annandale in Scotland that he served king Henry VIII. and was a gentleman. His father lost his estate under queen Mary, having been cast in prison and forfeited; and at last he turned minister. He was posthumous, being born a month after his father’s death, and was put to school by a friend. His master was Camden. Afterwards he was taken from it, and put to another craft, viz. to be a bricklayer, which he could not endure, but went into the Low Countries, and returning home he again betook himself to his wonted studies. In his service in the Low Countries, he had, in the view of both the armies, killed an enemy, and taken the opima spolia from him; and since coming to England, being appealed to in. a duel, he had killed his adversary, who had hurt him in the arm, and whose sword was ten inches longer than his. For this crime he was imprisoned, and almost at the gallows. Then he took his religion on trust of a priest, who visited him in prison. He was twelve years a papist; but after this he was reconciled to the church of England, and left off to be a recusant. At his first communion, in token of his true reconciliation, he drank out the full cup of wine. He was master of arts in both universities. In the time of his close imprisonment under queen Elizabeth, there were spies to catch him, but he was advertised of them by the keeper. He had an epigram on the spies. He married a wife, who was a shrew, yet honest to him. When the king came to England, about the time that the plague was in London, he (Ben Jonson) being in the country at sir Robert Cotton’s house, with old Camden, saw in a vision his eldest son, then a young child, and at London, appear unto him with the mark of a bloody cross on his forehead, as if it had been cut with a sword; at which, amazed, he prayed unto God, and in the morning he came to Mr. Camden’s chamber to tell him, who persuaded him it was but an apprehension, at which he should not be dejected. In the mean time came letters from his wife, of the death of that boy in the plague. He appeared to him, he said, of a manly shape, and of that growth he thinks he shall be at the resurrection.

For the motto of his “Life of Erasmus,” he chose the following words of Erasmus himself: “illud certe praesagio, de meis lucubrationibus, qualescunque sunt, candidius judicaturam Posteritatem: tametsi nee de meo seculo queri possum.' 1 Yet it is certain that he had very slight notions of posthumous fame or glory, and of any real good which could arise from it; as appears from what he has collected and written about it, in a note upon Milton, at the end of his” Remarks upon Spenser.“He would sometimes complain, and doubtless with good reason, of the low estimation into which learning was fallen; and thought it discountenanced and discouraged, indirectly at least, when ignorant and worthless persons were advanced to high stations and great preferments, while men of merit and abilities were overlooked and neglected. Yet he laid no undue stress upon such stations and preferments, but entertained just notions concerning what must ever constitute the chief good and happiness of man, and is himself believed to have made the most of them. Dr. Parr has drawn his character with his usual elegance and discrimination.” Jortin,“says he,” whether I look back to his verse, to his prose, to his critical, or to his theological works, there are few authors to whom I am so much indebted for rational entertainment, or for solid instruction. Learned he was, without pedantry. He was ingenious without the affectation of singularity. He was a lover of truth, without hovering over the gloomy abyss of scepticism, and a friend to free inquiry, without roving into the dreary and pathless wilds of latitudinarianism. He had a heart which never disgraced the powers of his understanding. With a lively imagination, an elegant taste, and a judgment most masculine, and most correct, he united the artless and amiable negligence of a school-boy. Wit without ill-nature, and sense without effort, be could at will scatter upon every subject; and in every book the writer presents us with a near and distinct view of the real man."

, a learned English clergyman, was born Nov. 1, 1750, at Douglas, in the Isle of Man. Descended from a line of forefathers who had from time immemorial possessed a small freehold near that town, called Aalcaer, which devolved on the doctor, he was placed under the tuiton of the rev. Philip Moore, master of the free grammar-school of Douglas, where he became speedily distinguished by quickness of intellect, and the rapidity of his classical progress. From the pupil he became the favourite and the companion of his instructor, whose regard he appears to have particularly conciliated by his skill in the vernacular dialect of the Celtic tongue, spoken in that island. When not seventeen, young Kelly attempted the difficult task of reducing to writing the grammatical rules, and proceeded to compile a dictionary of the tongue. The obvious difficulties of such an undertaking to a school- boy may be estimated by the reflection that this was the very first attempt to embody, to arrange, or to grammaticize, this language: that it was made without any aid whatever from books, Mss or from oral communications; but merely by dint of observation on the conversation of his unlettered countrymen. It happened at this moment that Dr. Hildesley, the then bishop of Sodor and Man, had brought to maturity his benevolent plan of bestowing on the natives of the island a translation of the Holy Scriptures, of the Common Prayer book, and of some religious tracts, in their own idiom. His lordship most gladly availed himself of the talents and attainments of this young man, and prevailed on him to dedicate several years of his life to his lordship’s favourite object. The Scriptures had been distributed in portions amongst the insular clergy, for each, to translate his part: on Mr. K. the serious charge was. imposed of revising, correcting, and giving uniformity to these several translations of the Old Testament; and also that of conducting through the press the whole of these publications. In June 1768 he entered on his duties: in April 1770 he transmitted the first portion to Whitehaven, where the work was printed; but when conveying the second, he was shipwrecked, and narrowly escaped perishing. The ms. with which he was charged was held five hours above water; and was nearly the only article on board preserved. In the course of “his labours in the vineyard,” he transcribed, with his own hand, all the books of the Old Testament three several times. The whole impression was completed, under his guidance, in December 1772, speedily after the worthy bishop died.

, a very learned divine, the son of Benjamin Kennicott, parish clerk of Totnes in Devonshire, was born April 4, 1718, at that place. From his early age he manifested a strong inclination for books, which his father encouraged by every means within the compass of his ability; for he had from the scanty pittance of a parish clerk , and the profits of a small school, saved money to purchase a very good library. Dr. Kennicott was placed as a foundation boy under the care of Mr. Row, then master of the grammar-school at Totnes, where he distinguished himself by industry and regularity of conduct. At this school he continued about seven years, with a constant wish and expectation of one day being sent to the university. After he left Mr. Row, he became master of the charity-school in Totnes, and occasionally added to the small emoluments of his school by writing for the attornies. A short poem which he wrote, entitled “Bidwell,” recommended him to the attention of the neighbouring gentlemen; and before he was thirty, he published a poem on the recovery of Mrs. Courtenay of Painsford. This strongly entitled him to her favour, and subscriptions were solicited for his support, at Oxford, to the success of which scheme he now bent all his efforts but every exertion, on the first attempt, failed and a mind less firm than, his, would, perhaps, have sunk under the disappointment. Soon after, however, another subscription was set on foot, under the auspices of the benevolent Mr. Allen of Bath, in consequence of which, in 1744, he was entered of Wadham college, where he soon proved that he was deserving of the patronage conferred upon him. In 1747 he produced his first performance, entitled “Two Dissertations: the first, On the Tree of Life in Paradise, with some observations on the Creation and Fall of Man: the second, On the Oblations of Cain and Abel,” 8vo, printed at the university press. To this work he prefixed a dedication, addressed to a numerous list of benefactors, to whom h had been indebted for his education, which speaks strongly the language of an humble and grateful heart; and of this, indeed, he exhibited many proofs in the course of his life. The approbation bestowed on this performance was not without some mixture of opposition, and some answers appeared against it. It procured him, however, so much reputation at Oxford, that a vacancy for a fellowship of Exeter college occurring before he could qualify himself to be a candidate by taking his first degree, the university, as a mark of favour, conferred his bachelor’s degree on him before the statutable period, and without fees. Soon, after, he was elected fellow of Exeter college, and on the 4th of May 1750, took the degree of M. A.

was a pontiff whose history is so connected with that of literature and the reformation, that more notice of him becomes necessary than we usually allot to his brethren, although scarce any abridgment of his life will be thought satisfactory, after the very luminous and interesting work of Mr. Roscoe. Leo was born at Florence in December 1475, the second son of Lorenzo de Medici, the Magnificent, and was christened John. Being originally destined by his father for the church, he was prorooted before he knew what it meant, received the tonsure at the age of seven years, two rich abbacies, and before he ceased to he a boy, received other preferments to the number of twenty-nine, and thus early imbibed a taste for aggrandizement which never left him. Upon the accession of Innocent VIII. to the pontificate, John, then thirteen years of age only, was nominated to the dignity of cardinal. Having now secured his promotion, his father began to think of his education, and when he was nominated to the cardinalate, it was made a condition that he should spend three years at the university of Pisa, in professional studies, before he was invested formally with the purple. In 145>2 this solemn act took place, and he immediately went to reside at Rome as one of the sacred college. His father soon after died, and was succeeded in his honours in the Florentine republic by his eldest son Peter. The young cardinal’s opposition to the election of pope Alexander VI. rendered it expedient for him to withdraw to Florence, and at the invasion of Italy by Charles VIII. he and the whole family were obliged to take refuge in Bologna. About 1500 he again fixed his residence at Rome, where he resided during the remainder of Alexander’s pontificate, and likewise in the early part of that of Julius II. cultivating polite literature, and the pleasures of elegant society, and indulging his taste for the fine arts, for music, and the chase, to which latter amusement he was much addicted. In 1505 he began to take an active part in public affairs, and was appointed by Julius to the government of Perugia. By his firm adherence to the interest of the pope, the cardinal acquired the most unlimited confidence of his holiness, and was entrusted with the supreme direction of the papal army in the Holj League against the French in 1511, with the title of legate of Bologna. At the bloody battle of Ravenna, in 1512, he was made prisoner, and wos conveyed to Milan, but afterwards effected his escape. About this time he contributed to the restoration of his family at Florence, by overthrowing the popular “constitution of that republic, and there he remained until the death of Julius II. in 1513, when he was elected pope in his stead, in the thirty-eighth year of his age. He assumed the name of Leo X. and ascended the throne with greater manifestations of goodwill, both from Italians and foreigners, than most of his predecessors had enjoyed. One of his first acts was to interpose in favour of some conspirators against the house of Medici, at Florence, and he treated with great kindness the family of Sodorini, which had long been at the head of the opposite party in that republic. He exhibited his taste for literature by the appointment of two of the most elegant scholars of the age, Bembo and Sadoleti, to the ffice of papal secretaries. With regard to foreign politics, he pursued the system of his predecessor, in attempting to free Italy from the dominion of foreign powers: and in order to counteract the antipapal council of Pisa, which was assembled at Lyons, he renewed the meetings of the council of Lateran, which Julius II. had begun, and he had the good fortune to terminate a division which threatened a schism in the church. Lewis XII. who had incurred ecclesiastical censure, made a formal submission, and received absolution. Having secured external tranquillity, Leo did not delay to consult the interests of literature by an ample patronage of learned studies. He restored to its former splendour the Roman gymnasium or university, which he effected by new grants of its revenues and privileges, and by filling its professorships with eminent men invited from all quarters. The study of the Greek language was a very particular object of his encouragement. Under the direction of Lascaris a college of noble Grecian youths was founded at Rome for the purpose of editing Greek authors; and a Greek press was established in that city. Public notice was circulated throughout Europe, that all persons who possessed Mss. of ancient authors would be liberally rewarded on bringing or sending them to the pope. Leo founded the first professorship in Italy of the Syriac and Chaldaic languages in the university of Bologna. With regard to the politics of the times, the pope had two leading objects in view, viz. the maintenance of that balance of power which might protect Italy from the over-bearing influence of any foreign potentate; and the aggrandizement of the house of Medici. When Francis I. succeeded to the throne of France, it was soon apparent that there would necessarily be a new war in the north of Italy.' Leo attempted to remain neuter, winch. being found to be impracticable, he joined the emperor, the Swiss, and other sovereigns against the French king and the state of Venice. The rapid successes of the French arms soon brought him to hesitate, and after the Swiss army had been defeated, the pope thought it expedient to abandon his allies, and form an union with the king of France. These two sovereigns, in the close of 1515, had an interview at Bologna, when the famous Pragmatic Sanction was abolished, and a concordat established in it stead. The death of Leo’s brother left his nephew Lorenzo the principal object of that passion for aggrandizing his family, which this pontiff felt full as strongly as any one of his predecessors, and to gratify which he scrupled no acts of injustice and tyranny. In 1516 he issued a monitory against the duke of Urbino, and upon his non-appearance, an excommunication, and then seized his whole territory, with which, together with the ducal title, he invested his nephew. In the same year a general pacification took place, though all the efforts of the pope were made to prevent it. In 1517 the expelled duke of Urbino collected an army, and, by rapid movements, completely regained his capital and dominions. Leo, excessively chagrined at this event, would gladly have engaged a crusade of all Christian princes against him. By an application, which nothing could justify, of the treasures of the church, he raised a considerable army, under the command of his nephew, and compelled the duke to resign his dominion, upon what were called honourable terms. The violation of the safe conduct, granted by Lorenzo to the duke’s secretary, who was seized at Rome, and put to torture, in order to oblige him to reveal his master’s secrets, imprints on the memory of Leo X. an indelible stain. In the same year his life was endangered by a conspiracy formed against him, in which the chief actor was cardinal Petrucci. The plan failed, and the cardinal, being decoyed to Rome, from whence he had escaped, was put to dt-ath; and his agents, as many as were discovered, were executed with horrid tortures. The conduct of Leo on this occasion was little honourable to his fortitude or clemency, and it was believed that several persons suffered as guilty who were wholly innocent of the crimes laid to their charge. To secure himself for the future, the pope, by a great stretch of his high authority, created in one day thirty-one nevr cardinals, many of them his relations and friends, who had not even risen in the.church to the dignity of. the episcopal office; but many persons also, who, from their talents and virtues, were well worthy of his choice. He bestowed upon them rich benefices and preferments, as well in the remote parts of Christendom, as in Italy, and thus formed a numerous and splendid court attached to his person, and adding to the pomp and grandeur of the capital. During the pontificate of Leo X. the reformation under Luther took its rise, humanly speaking, from the following circumstances. The unbounded profusion of this pope had rendered it necessary to devise means for replenishing his exhausted treasury; and one of those which occurred was the sale of indulgences, which were sold in Germany with such ridiculous parade of their efficacy, as to rouse the spirit of Luther, who warmly protested against this abuse in his discourses, and in a letter addressed to the elector of Mentz. He likewise published a set of propositions, in which he called in question the authority of the pope to remit sins, and made some very severe strictures on this method of raising money. His remonstrances produced considerable effect, and several of his cloth undertook to refute him. Leo probably regarded theological quarrels with contempt, and from his pontifical throne looked down upon the efforts of a German doctor with scorn; even when his interference was deemed necessary, he was inclined to lenient measures. At length, at the express desire of the emperor Maximilian, he summoned Luther to appear before the court of Rome. Permission was, however, granted for the cardinal of Gaeta to hear his defence at Augsburg. Nothing satisfactory was determined, and the pope, in 1518, published a bull, asserting his authority to grant indulgences, which would avail both the living, and the dead in purgatory. Upon this, the reformer appealed to a general council, and thus open war was declared, in which the abettors of Luther appeared with a strength little calculated upon by the court of Rome. The sentiments of the Christian world were not at all favourable to that court.” The scandal,“says the biographer,” incurred by the infamy of Alexander VI., and the violence of Julius II., was not much alleviated in the reign of a pontiff who was characterized by an inordinate love of pomp and pleasure, and whose classical taste even caused him to be regarded by many as more of a heathen than a Christian."

Dr. Liddel’s works are, 1. “Disputationum Medicinalium,” 1605, 4 vols. 4to, consisting of theses maintained by himself and his pupils at Helmstadt from 1592 to 1606. The copy in the library at Aberdeen is full of ms notes in his own hand. Manget mentions what appears to be a new edition, or a new arangement, of these theses, published at Helmstadt in 1720, 4to, under the title of “Universae Medicinae compendium.” 2. “Ars Medica, succincte et perspicue explicata,” Hamburgh, 1607, 8vo, reprinted at Lyons, 1624, by Serranus; and again at Hamburgh, 1628, by Frobenius, who acknowledges his obligations to Dr. Patrick Dun, principal of the Marischal College of Aberdeen, for the use of a copy corrected and enlarged by the author. 3. “De Febribus libri tres,” Hamburgh, 1610, 12mo, republished by Serranus, along with the “Ars Medica.” 4. “Tractatus de dente aureo,” &c. ibid. 1628, 12mo, in answer to Horstius’s ridiculous account of a boy who had a golden tooth. (See James Horstius). He appears to have undertaken this work out of regard to the reputation of the university of Helmstadt, which, Horstius being one of the professors, he thought might be affected by this imposture. 5. “Artis conservandi Sanitatem, libri duo, a C. D. doctore Liddelio defuncto delineati, opera et studio D. Patricii Dunaei, M. D. &c.” Aberdeen, 1631, 12mo. In the preface to this work Dr. Dun, who had studied physic at Helmstadt under Dr. Liddel, says, that having found the ms. among his papers, he thought it a duty he owed to the public and his old master, to complete and publish it. All these writings received the distinguished approbation of his colleagues and contemporaries, and have been mentioned with respect by succeeding authors.

The encomiums bestowed upon Livy, by both ancients and moderns, are great and numerous. Quinctiliau speaks of him in the highest terms, and thinks that Herodotus need not take it ill to have Livy equalled with him. In general, probity, candour, and impartiality, are what have distinguished Livy above all historians. Neither complaisance to the times, nor his particular connexions with the emperor, could restrain him from speaking so well of Pompey, as to make Augustus call him a Pompeian. This we learn from Cremutius Cortlus, in Tacitus, who relates also, much to the emperor’s honour, that this gave no interruption to their friendship. Livy, however, has not escaped censure as a writer. In the age in which he lived, Asinius Pollio charged him with Patavinity, a word variously explained by writers, but generally supposed to relate to his style. The most common opinion is, that Pollio, accustomed to the delicacy of the language spoken in the court of Augustus, could not bear with certain provincial idioms, which Livy, as a Paduan, used in various places of his history. Pignorius is of a different opinion, and considers Patavinity as relating to the orthography of certain words, in which Livy used one letter for another, according to the custom of his country, writing “sibe” and “quase” for “sibi” and “quasi;” which he attempts to prove by several ancient inscriptions. Chevreau maintains, that it does not concern the style, but the principles of the historian: the Paduans, he says, preserved a long and constant inclination for a republic, and were therefore attached to Pompey; while Pollio, being of Caesar’s party, was naturally led to attribute to Livy the sentiments of his countrymen, on account of his speaking well of Pompey. It seems remarkable that there should exist such difference of opinion, when Quinctilian, who must be supposed to know the true import of this Patavinity, has referred it entirely to the language of our author. MorhofPs elaborate treatise, however, is highly creditable to his critical skill. The merit of Livy’s history is so well known, as to render it unnecessary to accumulate the encomiums which modern scholars have bestowed on him. With these the school -boy is soon made acquainted, and they meet the advanced scholar in all his researches. His history was first printed at Rome, about 1469, by Sweynheym and Pannartz, in folio. Of this rare edition, lord Spencer is in possession of a fine copy; but the exquisite copy on vellum, formerly in the imperial library at Vienna, now belongs to James Edwards, esq. of Harrow; and is perhaps the most magnificent volume of an ancient classic in the world. Of modern printing the best editions are, that of Gronovius, “cum Notis variorum & suis, Lugd. Bat. 1679,” 3 vols. 8vo; that of Le Clerc, at “Amsterdam, 1709,” 10 vols. 12mo that of Crevier, at “Paris, 1735,” 6 vols. <Ko of Prakenborch, Auist. 1738, 7 vols. 4to of Ruddiman, Edinburgh, 1751, 4 vols. 12mo; of Homer, Lond. 1794, 8 vols. 8vo and that of Oxford, 1800, 6 vols. 8vo. Livy has been translated into every language. The last English translation was that of George Baker, A. M. 6 vols. 8vo, published in 1797, which was preceded by that of Philemon Holland, in 1600; that of Bohun, in 1686; and a third, usually called Hay’s translation, though, no such name appears, printed in 1744, 6 vols. 8vo.

, was born in 1635, the son of that count de Brienne who was ambassador in England in 1624. He had the reversion of the secretary of state’s office which his father held, and was made counsellor of state in 1651, when a boy of sixteen, with permission to exercise this office when he should attain the age of twenty- five. During this interval, be travelled over Italy, Germany, and the north, to acquire a knowledge of the countries he was afterward to treat with, and on his return, although only twenty-three years old, the king permitted him to act as secretary of state; but after his wife’s death, in 1665, Louis XIV. obliged him to resign his post. M. de Lomenie then retired to the fathers of the oratory, and was sub-deacon, but left them, and went to the court of Christian Louis, duke of Mecklenburgh, in 1672. His residence at that court was the origin of all the troubles which he brought upon himself; for, having entertained a criminal passion for the princess of Mecklenburg, he had the audacity to acquaint her with it. She complained of this affront to Louis XIV. who ordered him to return to Paris, and confined him in the abbey of St. Germain-des-Prez, then at St. Benolt-sur- Loire, afterwards at St. Lazare, and lastly, at the abbey of St. Severin, at Chateau Landon, where he died, April 17, 1698. He left an account of his travels, in Latin,entitled “Itinerarinm,” 8vo, written with elegance and perspicuity. 2. “Recueil de Poesies diverses et Chre”­tiennes,“Paris, 1671, 3 vols. 12mo. 3.” Remarques sur les Regies de la Poésie Françoise,“which are at the end of the” Nouvelle Methode Latine“of Port Royal, the seventh edition, 8vo. M. de Châlons has borrowed, without any acknowledgment, almost the whole of these remarks, in his treatise” Des Regies de la Poésie Fransoise.“Lomenie also published a translation of the” Institutions of Thanlerus," 8vo and 12mo, &c. and left in ms. memoirs of his life, and some poems. It appears from his works, that he possessed wit and genius, but that a capricious, fickle, and inconstant disposition, joined to a depraved fancy, rendered them useless to him, ad in some measure to the world.

Besides his astronomical work,- he published in 1731, under the name of Dicaiophilus Cantabrigiensis, “The Rights of Churches and Colleges defended; in answer to a pamphlet called * An Enquiry into the customary estates and tenant-rights of those who hold lands of church and other foundations, by the term of three lives, &c. by Everard Fleetwood, esq.;' with remarks upon some other pieces on the same subject,” 8vo. The author of this pamphlet, to which our author replied, was not Fleetwood, which was an assumed name, but Samuel Burroughs, esq. a master in chancery. Dr. Long published also a “Commencement-Sermon, 1728;” and an answer to Dr. Gally’s pamphlet “On Greek Accents.” We shall subjoin a few traits of him, as delineated in 1769, by Mr. Jones: " He is now in the eighty-eighth year of his age, and, for his years, vegete and active. He was lately (in October) put in nomination for the office of vice-chancellor. He executed that trust before; I think in the year 1737. A very ingenious person, and sometimes very facetious. At the public commencement in the year 1713, Dr. Greene (master of Bene't college, and afterwards bishop of Ely) being then vice-chancellor, Mr. Long was pitched upon for the tripos-performance; it was witty and humourous, and has passed through divers editions. Some that remembered the delivery of it told me, that, in addressing ttye vice chancellor (whom the university-wags usually styled Miss Greene), the tripos-orator, being a native of Norfolk, and assuming the Norfolk dialect, instead of saying, Domine vice-cancellarie, did very archly pronounce the words thus, Domina vice-cancellaria; which occasioned a general smile in that great auditory. His friend the late Mr. Bonfoy of Ripton told me this little incident: `That he and Dr. Long walking together in Cambridge, in a dusky evening, and coming to a short post fixed in the pavement, which Mr. B. in the midst of chat and inattention, took to be a boy standing in his way, he said in a hurry, `Get out of my way, boy.‘ `That boy, sir,’ said the doctor very calmly and slily, `is a post-boy, who turns out of his way for nobody.'

He was next appointed one of the Assembly of Divines, and minister of St. Lawrence Jury, and is said also to have been chosen minister of St. Anne’s, Aldersgate-street. He was one of the London ministers who signed a declaration against the king’s death. He was afterwards engaged in a plot, which cost him his life, and was known at the time by the name of Love’s plot, either because he was a principal agent, or a principal sufferer. Mr. Love, we have already noticed, was a presbyterian, and when he found that the independents were gaining the ascendancy, he united with various gentlemen and ministers of his own way of thinking to assist the Scotch (before whom Charles II. had taken the covenant, and by whom he had been crowned,) in their endeavours to advance that sovereign to the crown of England. Cromwell, howev&r, was too watchful for the success of such a design in London; and the chief conspirators being apprehended, Mr. Love and a Mr. Gibbons were tried and executed, the rest escaping by interest, or servile submission. Mr. Love appears on his trial to have used every means to defeat its purpose, and was certainly more tenacious of life, than might have been expected from the boldness of his former professions. Great intercessions were made to the parliament for a pardon: his wife presented one petition, and himself four; several parishes also, and a great number of his brethren interceded with great fervour; but all that could be obtained was the respite of a month. It is said that the affairs of the commonwealth being now at a crisis, and Charles II. having entered England with 16,000 Scots, it was thought necessary to strike terror in the presbyterian party, by making an example of one of their favourite ministers. Some historians say that Cromwell, then in the north, sent a letter of reprieve and pardon for Mr. Love, but that the post-boy was stopped on the road by some persons belonging to the late king’s army, who opened the mail, and finding this letter, tore it in pieces, exclaiming that “he who had been so great a firebrand at Uxbridge, was not fit to live.” Whatever truth may be in this, he was executed, by beheading, on Tower-hill, Aug. 22, 1651. He was accompanied at his death by the three eminent nonconformists, Simeon Ashe, Edmund Calamy, and Dr. Manton. The latter preached a funeral sermon for him, in which, while he avoids any particular notice of the cause of his death, he considers him, as the whole of his party did, in the light of a saint and martyr. The piety of his life, indeed, ereated a sympathy in his favour which did no little harm to the power of Cromwell. Thousands began to see that the tyranny of the republic would equal all they had been taught to hate in the mo larchv. The government, we are told, expressed some displeasure at Dr. Manton’s intention of preaching a funeral sermon, and their creatures among the soldiers threatened violence, but he persisted in his resolution, and not only preached, but printed the sermon. The loyalists, on the other hand, considered Love’s death as an instance of retributive justice. Clarendon says that he “was guilty of as much treason as the pulpit could contain;” and his biographers have so weakly defended the violence of his conduct during the early period of the rebellion, as to leave this fact almost indisputable. His works consist of sermons and pious tracts, on various subjects, mostly printed after his death, and included in three volumes, 8vo. They were all accompanied by prefaces from his brethren, of high commendation.

, in Latin Lubieniecius, a celebrated Socinian divine, was descended from a very noble family, related to the house of Sobieski, and born at Racow in that kingdom, in 1612—3. His father, a minister, bred him up with great care under his own eye; and, even while he was a school-boy, brought him into the diet of Poland, in order to introduce him to the acquaintance of the grandees, and instruct him in knowledge suitable to his birth, fn 1644 he sent him to Thorn in Saxony, where, young as he was, he joined the two Socinian deputies at the conference then held in that city, for the re-union of different religions among the reformed, drew up a diary of the conference, and then attended a young nobleman as travelling tutor through Holland and France, where he acquired the esteem of several learned men, with whom he conferred on subjects of religion, and on the death of his father, in 1648, he returned to Poland.

, a famous English prelate, born at London, July 27, 1697, of obscure parents, whom he lost while he was young, was taken care of by an aunt, who placed him in a charity-school, and afterwards put him on trial to a pastry-cook; but, before he was bound apprentice, the master told her that the boy was not fit for trade; that he was continually reading books of learning above his (the master’s) comprehension, and therefore advised that she should take him away, and send him back to school, to follow the bent of his inclination. He was on this sent, by an exhibition of some dissenting friends, to one of the universities of Scotland, Cole says, that of Aberdeen; but, not caring to take orders in that church, was afterwards, through the patronage of bishop Gibson, admitted to Queen’s-college, Cambridge, and was favoured with a doctor’s degree at Lambeth. After entering into orders, he first was curate of St. Bride’s, then domestic chaplain to Dr. Waddington, bishop of Chichester, whose niece he married, and was afterwards promoted to the rectory of St. Vedast, in Foster-lane, London. In 1729, he was appointed clerk of the closet to queen Caroline. In 1733, he became dean of Wells, and was consecrated bishop of St. Asaph, in 1736. He was translated to the see of Worcester, in 1743. In 1733 he published the first part of the “Review of Neal’s History of the Puritans,” under the title of, “A Vindication of the Government, Doctrine, and Worship of the Church of England, established in the reign of queen Elizabeth:” of which the late bishop Hallifax said, “a better vindication of the reformed church of England, I never read.” He was a great benefactor to the London hospitals, and the first promoter of the Worcester Infirmary in 1745, which has proved of singular benefit to the poor, and a great advantage to medical and surgical knowledge in that neighbourhood. He was also a great encourager of trade, engaging in the British fishery, by which he lost some money. He likewise was a strong advocate for the act against vending spirituous liquors. He married Elizabeth daughter of Richard Price, esq. of Hayes in Middlesex, in 1731; and had two daughters and a son, of whom only one daughter survived him, and was afterwards married to the hon. James Yorke, bishop of Gloucester, and late bishop of Ely. He died Sept. 27, 1739. Bishop Madox published fourteen occasional sermons preached between the years 1734 and 1752. Among other instances of his benevolence, we may mention his assigning 200l.perann. during his life, for the augmentation of the smaller benefices of his diocese. He corresponded with Dr. Doddridge with affectionate familiarity, and visited him when at Bristol, offering in the most obliging manner to convey him to the Wells in his chariot, at the stated times of drinking. He used to anticipate any hints respecting his origin by a joke which he was fond of repeating. When tarts wera on his table, he pressed the company to partake, saying “that he believed they were very good, but that they were not of his own making” This he varied, when John Whiston dined with him, into, “some people reckon me a good judge of that article!” Upon the whole he appears to have been an amiable and benevolent man, and to have employed his wealth as well as his talents to the best purposes. His widow survived him thirty years, dying Feb. 19, 1789.

, one of the most celebrated, and certainly one of the most extraordinary men of his time, was born at Florence, Oct. 28 or 29, 1633. His parents, who were of low rank, are said to have been satisfied when they got him into the service of a man who sold fruit and herbs. He had never learned to read, and yet was perpetually poring over the leaves of old books, that were used as waste paper in his master’s shop. A bookseller who lived in the neighbourhood, and who had often observed this, and knew the boy could not read, asked him one day, “what he meant by staring so much on printed paper?” He said, “that he did not know how it was, but that he loved it; that he was very uneasy in the business he was in, and should be the happiest creature in the world, if he could live with him, who had always so many books about him.” The bookseller, pleased with his answer, consented to take him, if his master was willing to part with him. Young Magliabechi thanked him with tears in his eyes, and having obtained his master’s leave, went directly to his new employment, which he had not followed long before he could find any book that was asked for, as ready as the bookseller himself. This account of his early life, which Mr. Spence received from a gentleman of Florence, who was well acquainted with Magliabechi and his family, differs considerably from that given by Niceron, Tiraboschi, and Fabroni. From the latter, indeed, we learn that he was placed as an apprentice to a goldsmith, after he had been taught the principles of drawing, and he had a brother that was educated to the law, and made a considerable figure in that profession. His father died while he was an infant, but Fabroni makes no mention of his poverty. It seems agreed, however, that after he had learned to read, that became his sole employment, but he never applied himself to any particular study. He read every book almost indifferently, as they happened to come into his hands, with a surprizing quickness; and yet such was his prodigious memory, that he not only retained the sense of what he read, but often all the words, and the very manner of spelling them, if there was any thing peculiar of that kind in any author.

, an excellent antiquary and topographer, the son of Mr. Owen Manning, of Orlingbury, co. Northampton, was born there Aug. 11, 1721. He was admitted of Queen’s-college, Cambridge, where he proceeded B. A. in 1740; and about this time met with two extraordinary instances of preservation from untimely death. Having been seized with the small pox, he was attended by Dr. Heberden, who thinking he could not survive, desired that his father might be sent for. On his arrival he found the young man to all appearance dying, and next day he was supposed to have expired, and was laid out, as a corpse, in the usual manner. An undertaker was sent for, and every preparation made for his funeral. His father, however, who had not left the house, could not help frequently viewing the seemingly lifeless body; and in one of his visits, without seeing any cause for hope, said, “I will give my poor boy another chance,” and at the same time raised him up, which almost immediately produced signs of life. Dr. Heberden was then sent for, and by the use of proper means, the young man recovered. As it was customary for the scholars of every college to make verses on the death of any one of their own college, which are pinned to the pall at the funeral, like so many escutcheons, this tribute of respect was prepared for Mr. Manning, who was much beloved by his fellow students; and it is said that the verses were presented to him afterwards, and that he kept them for many years as memoranda of his youthful friendships. Scarcely had he met with this narrow escape, when, his disorder having made him for some time subject to epileptic fits, he was seized with one of these while walking by the river, into which he feJl, and remained so long that he was thought to be drowned, and laid out on the grass, until he could be conveyed to the college, where Dr. Heberden being again called in, the proper means of recovery were used with success.

, an eminent optician, was born at Worplesdon, in Surrey, in 1704, and began life as a plough-boy at Broad-street, a hamlet belonging to that parish. By some means, however, he contrived to learn reading, writing, and arithmetic, so as to be soon enabled to teach them to others. For some time he continued to assist in the farming business, but, as our authority states, “finding that he became a poor husbandman in proportion as he grew a learned one, he prudently forsook what indeed he had no great inclination for,” and having a strong inclination to mathematics and philosophical speculations, now entered upon such a course of reading and study as in some measure supplied the want of a learned education. The historian of Surrey says that he first taught reading and writing at Guildford. It was probably some time after this that a legacy of five hundred pounds bequeathed to him by a relation encouraged his laudable ambition, and after purchasing books, instruments, &c. and acquiring some knowledge of the languages, we find him, in 1735, settled at Chichester, where he taught mathematics, and performed courses of experimental philosophy. At this time he published his first work, “The Philosophical Grammar; being a view of the present state of experimental physiology, or naturaf philosophy, &c.” London, 8vo. When he came up to London we have not been able to discover, but after settling there he read lectures on experimental philosophy for many years, and carried on a very extensive trade as an optician and globe-maker in Fleet-street, till the growing infirmities of old age compelled him to withdraw from the active part of business. Trusting too fatally to what he thought the integrity of others, he unfortunately, though with a capital more than sufficient to pay all his debts, became a bankrupt. The unhappy old man, in a moment of desperation from this unexpected stroke, attempted to destroy himself; and the wound, though not immediately mortal, hastened his death, which happened Feb. 9th, 1782, at seventy-eight years of age.

By the time he had taken the degree of master of arts, which was in 1610, he had made such progress in all kinds of academical study, that he was universally esteemed an accomplished scholar. He was an acute logician, an accurate philosopher, a skilful mathematician, an excellent anatomist, a great philologer, a master of many languages, and a good proficient in history and chronology. His first public effort was an address that he made to bishop Andrews, in a Latin tract “De sanctitate relativa;” which, in his maturer years, he censured as a juvenile performance, and therefore never published it. That great prelate, however, who was a good judge and patron of learning, liked it so well, that he not only was the author’s firm friend upon an occasion that offered soon after, but also then desired him to be his domestic chaplain. This Mede very civilly refused; valuing the liberty of his studies above any hopes of preferment, wnd esteeming that freedom which he enjoyed in his cell, so he used to call it, as the haven of all his wishes. These thoughts, indeed, had possessed him. betimes: for, when he was a school-boy, he was invited by his uncle, Mr. Richard Mede, a merchant, who, being then without children, offered to adopt him for his son, if he would live with him: but he refused the offer, preferring, as it should seem, a life of study to a life of gain.

, whom the common consent of all ecclesiastical historians has placed among the most eminent of the reformers, was born at Bretten, in the Palatinate upon the Rhine, Feb. 16, 1497. His family name, Schwartserd, in German, means literally black earth, which, according to the custom of the times (as in the case of Oecolampadius, Erasmus, Chytraeus, Reuchlin, c.), was exchanged for Melancthon, a compound Greek word of the same signification. His education was at first chiefly under the care of his maternal grandfather Reuter, as his father’s time was much engrossed by the affairs of the elector Palatine, whom he served as engineer, or commissary of artillery. He first studied at a school in Bretten, and partly under a private tutor, and gave very early proofs of capacity. He was afterwards sent to Pfortsheim, a city in the marquisate of Baden, where was a flourishing college, and here he became known to the celebrated Reuchlin, to whom it would appear he was distantly related, and who assisted him in learning the Greek language. Probably by his advice, Melancthon went to the university of Heidelberg, where he was matriculated on Oct. 13, 1509. Such was his improvement here that his biographers inform us he was admitted to his bachelor’s degree, although under fourteen years of age, and that he was intrusted to teach the sons of count Leonstein. Yet, notwithstanding his extraordinary proficiency, he was refused his degree of master on account of his youth; and, either disappointed in this, or because the air of Heidelberg did not agree with his constitution, he left that university in 1512, and went to Tubingen, where he resided six years. Baillet has with much propriety classed Melancthon among the enfans celebres, or list of youths who became celebrated for early genius and knowledge. It is said that while at Heidelberg he was employed in composing the greatest part of the academical speeches, and Baillet adds, that at thirteen he wrote a comedy, and dedicated it to Reuchiin. With such capacity and application he could not fail to distinguish himself during his residence at Tubingen, where he studied divinity, law, and mathematics, and gave public lectures on the Latin classics, and on the sciences. About this time Reuchiin had made him a present of a small edition of the Bible, printed by Frobenius, in reading which, we are told, he took much delight. In 1513 he was created doctor in philosophy, or master of arts, and had attracted the notice of Erasmus, who conceived the highest hopes of him “What hopes, indeed,” he said about 1515, “may we not entertain of Philip Melancthon, who though as yet very young, and almost a boy, is equally to be admired for his knowledge in both languages What quickness of invention what purity of diction what powers of memory what variety of reading what modesty and gracefulness of behaviour!”

In 1772, he formed that collection of fugitive poetry, which was published in four volumes by George Pearch, bookseller, as a continuation of Dodsley’s collection. In this Mickle inserted his “Hengist and Mey,” and the “Elegy on Mary queen of Scots.” He contributed about the same time other occasional pieces, both in prose and verse, to the periodical publications, when he could spare leisure from his engagements at the Clarendon press, and from a more important design which he had long revolved in his mind, and had now the resolution to carry into execution in preference to every other employment. This was his justly celebrated translation of the “Lusiad” of Camoens, a poem which he is said to have read when a boy in Castera’s French translation, and which at no great distance of time he determined to familiarize to the English, reader. For this purpose he studied the Portuguese language, and the history of the poem and of its author, and without greatly over-rating the genius of Camoens, dwelt on the beauties of the “Lusiad,” until he caught the author’s spirit, and became confident that he could transfuse it into English with equal honour to his original andto himself. But as it was necessary that the attention of the English public should be drawn to a poem at this time very little known, he first published proposals for his translation to be printed by subscription, and afterwards sent a small specimen of the fifth book to be inserted in the Gentleman’s Magazine, which was then, as now, the common vehicle of literary communications. This appeared in the Magazine for March 1771, and a few months after he printed at Oxford the first boo.k of the “Lusiad.” These specimens were received with indulgence sufficient to encourage him to prosecute his undertaking with spirit; and that he might enjoy the advantages of leisure and quiet, he relinquished his situation at the Clarendon press, and retired to an old mansion occupied by a Mr. Tomkins, a farmer at Forrest- hill, about five miles from Oxford. Here be remained until the end of 1775, at which time he was enabled to complete his engagement with his numerous subscribers, and publish the work complete in a quarto volume printed at Oxford.

, the celebrated comic writer of France, whose original name was Pocquelin, was born at Paris about 1620. He was both son and grandson to valets de chambres on one side, and tapissiers on the other, to Louis XIII. and was designed for the latter business, that of a domestic upholsterer, whose duty was to take care of the furniture of the royal apartments. But the grandfather being very fond of the boy, and at the same time a great lover of plays, used to take him often with him to the hotel de Bourgogne; which presently roused up Moliere’s natural genius and taste for dramatic representations, and created in him such a disgust to his intended employment, that at last his father consented to let him study under the Jesuits, at the college of Clermont. During the five years that he resided here, he made a rapid progress in the study of philosophy and polite literature, and, if we mistake not, acquired even now much insight into the varieties of human character. He had here also an opportunity of contracting an intimate friendship with Chapelle, Bernier, and Cyrano. Chapelle, with whom Bernier was an associate in his studies, had the famous Gassendi for his tutor, who willingly admitted Moliere to his lectures, as he afterwards also admitted Cyrano. When Louis XIII. went to Narbonne, in 1641, his studies were interrupted: for his infirm father, not being able to attend the court, Moliere was obliged to go there to supply his place. This, however, he quitted on his fathers death; and his passion for the stage, which had induced him first to study, revived more strongly than ever. Some have said, that he for a time studied the law, and was admitted an advocate. This seems doubtful, but, if true, he soon yielded to those more lively pursuits which made him the restorer of comedy in France, and the coadjutor of Corneille, who had rescued the tragic Muse from barbarism. The taste, indeed, for the drama, was much improved in France, after cardinal de Richelieu granted a peculiar protection to dramatic poets. Many little societies now made it a diversion to act plays in their own houses; in one of which, known by the name of “The illustrious Theatre,” Moliere entered himself; and it was then, in conformity to the example of the actors of that time, that he changed his name of Pocquelin for that of Moliere, which he retained ever after. What became of him from 1648 to 1652 we know not, this interval being the time of the civil wars, which caused disturbances in Paris; but it is probable, that he was employed in composing some of those pieces which were afterwards exhibited to the public. La Bejart, an actress of Champagne, waiting, as well as he, for a favourable time to display her talents, Moliere was particularly kind to her; and as their interests became mutual, they formed a company together, and went to Lyons in 1653, where Moliere produced his first play, called “L'Etourdi,” or the Blunderer, and appeared in the double character of author and actor. I his drew almo_st all the spectators from the other company of comedians, which was settled in that town; some of which company joined with Moliere, and followed him to Beziers in Languedoc, where he offered his services to the prince of Co'nti, who gladly accepted them, as he had known him at college, and was among the first to predict his brilliant career on the stage. He now received him as a friend; and not satisfied with confiding to him the management of the entertainments which he gave, he offered to make him his secretary, which the latter declined, saying, “I am a tolerable author, but I should make a very bad secretary.” About the latter end of 1657, Moliere departed with his company for Grenoble, and continued there during the carnival of 1658. After this he went and settled at Rouen, where he staid all the summer; and having made some journeys to Paris privately, he had the good fortune to please the king’s brother, who, granting him his protection, and making his company his own, introduced him in that quality to the king and queen-mother. That company began to appear before their majesties and the whole court, in Oct. 1658, upon a stage erected on purpose, in the hall of the guards of the Old Louvre; and “were so well approved, that his majesty gave orders for their settlement at Paris. The hall of the Petit Bourbon was granted them, to act by turns with the Italian players. In 1663, Moliere obtained a pension of a thousand livres: and, in 1665, his company was altogether in his majesty’s service. He continued all the remaining part of his life to give new plays, which were very much and very justly applauded: and if we consider the number of works which he composed in about the space of twenty years, while he was himself all the while an actor, and interrupted, as he must be, by perpetual avocations of one kind or other, we cannot fail to admire the quickness, as well as fertility of his genius; and we shall rather be apt to think with Boileau,” that rhime came to him,“than give credit to some others, who say he” wrote very slowly."

, only son of the preceding lady Mary, was born in October 1713, and in the early part of his life seems to have been the object of his mother’s tenderest regard, though he afterwards lost her favour. In 1716, he was taken by her on his father’s embassy to Constantinople, and while there, was, as we have noticed in her life, the first English child on whom the practice of inoculation was tried. Returning to England with his parents in 1719, he was placed at Westminsterschool, where he gave an* early sample of his wayward disposition, by running away, and eluding every possible search, until about a year after he was accidentally discovered at Blackwall, near London, in the character of a vender offish, a basket of which he had then on his head. He had bound himself, by regular indenture, to a poor fisherman, who said he had served him faithfully, making his bargains shrewdly, and paying his master the purchasemoney honestly. He was now again placed at Westminster-school, but in a short time escaped a second time, and bound himself to the master of a vessel which sailed for Oporto, who, supposing him a deserted friendless boy, treated him with great kindness and humanity. This treatment, however, produced no corresponding feelings; for the moment they landed at Oporto, Montague ran away up the country, and contrived to get employment for two or three years in the vintage. Here at length he was discovered, brought home, and pardoned but with no better effect than before. He ran away a third time after which, his father procured him a tutor, who made him so far regular that he had an appointment in one of the public offices and, in 1747, he was elected one of the knights of the shire for the county of Huntingdon but in his senatorial capacity he does not appear to have any way distinguished himself; nor did he long retain his seat, his expences so far exceeding his income, that he found it prudent once more to leave England, about the latter end of 1751. His first excursion was to Paris, where, in a short time, he was imprisoned in the Chatelet, for a fraudulent gambling transaction: how he escaped is not very clear, but he published a defence of himself, under the title of “Memorial of E. W. Montague, esq. written by himself, in French, and published lately at Paris, against Abraham Payba, a Jew by birth, who assumed the fictitious name of James Roberts. Translated into English from an authentick copy sent from Paris,” 1752, 8vo.

At the age of twenty-one, he had a seat in parliament, and shewed great independence of spirit, in 1503, by opposing a subsidy demanded by Henry VII. with such strength of argument, that it was actually refused by the parliament: on this Mr. Tyler, one of the king’s privycouncil, went presently from the house, and told his majesty, that a beardless boy had defeated his intention. The king resented the matter so highly, that he would not be satisfied, till he had some way revenged it: but as the son, who had nothing, could lose nothing, he devised a causeless quarrel against the father; and, sending him to the Tower, kept him there till he had forced a fine of 100l. from him, for his pretended offence. It happened soon after, that More, coming on a suit to Fox, bishop of Winchester, one of the king’s privy-council, the bishop called him aside, and with much apparent kindness, promised, that if he would be ruled by him, he would not fail to restore him to the king’s favour. It was conjectured, perhaps unjustly, that Fox’s object was to draw from him some confession of his offence, so that the king might have an opportunity of gratifying his displeasure against him. More, however, if this really was the case, had too much prudence to be entrapped, and desired some time to consider the matter. This being granted, he obtained a conference with Mr. Whitford, his familiar friend, then chaplain to the bishop, and afterwards a monk of Sion, and related what the bishop proposed. Whitford dissuaded him from listening to the bishop’s motion: “for,” says he, “my lord and master, to serve the king’s turn, will not stick to consent to the death of his own father.” After receiving this opinion, which Fox does not seem to have deserved, More became so alarmed, as to have some thoughts of visiting the continent. With this view he studied the French tongue, and cultivated most of the liberal sciences, as music, arithmetic, geometry, astronomy, and history; but the death of Henry VII. rendered the precaution unnecessary, and he again resumed his profession.

As to his family, by his first wife he had four children, who all survived him; three daughters and one son, named John, after his grandfather. Sir Thomas had the three daughters first, and his wife very much desired a boy: at last she brought him this son, who appearing weak in his intellects, sir Thomas said to his lady, “Thou hast prayed so long for a boy, that thou hast one now who will be a boy as long as he lives.” By a liberal education, however, his natural parts seem to have been much improved. Among Erasmus’s letters, there is one written to him, in which that great scholar calls him “Optimae Spei Adolescens.” Erasmus also inscribed to him the “Nux of Ovid,” and “An Account of Aristotle’s Works.” After the death of his father he was committed to the Tower for refusing the same oath of supremacy, and condemned, but afterwards pardoned, and set at liberty, which favour he did not long survive. He was married very young to a Yorkshire heiress, by whom he had five sons. His eldest son Thomas had a son of the same name, who, being a zealous Roman catholic, gave the family estate to his younger brother, and took orders at Rome; whence, by the pope’s command, he came a missionary into England. He afterwards lived at Rome; where, and in Spain, he negociated the affairs of the English clergy at his own expence. He died, aged fifty-nine years, in April 1625; and, two years after, was printed in 4to, with a dedication to Henrietta Maria, king Charles I.'s queen, his “Life of sir Thomas More,” his great grandfather. The learned author of the “Life of Erasmus” says, that “this Mr. More was a narrow-minded zealot, and a very fanatic;” and afterwards adds, very justly, that “there is no relying on such authors as these, unless they cite chapter and verse.”

While Morton sat in the see of Coventry and Lichfield, which was above fourteen years, he educated, ordained, and presented to a living, a youth of excellent talents and memory, who was born blind . He also acquired no little reputation by detecting the imposture of the famous boy of Bilson in Staffordshire, who pretended to be possessed with a devil; but who, in reality, was only suborned by some Romish priests, to assume the appearance of possession, according to the common notions of it, for the sake of promoting their own private purposes. In 1632, he was translated to the bishopric of Durham, which he held with great reputation till the opening of the Long-parliament, when he met with great insults from the common people, and was once in extreme hazard of his life at Westminster, some crying, “Pirll him out of his coach” others, “Nay, he is a good man” others, “But for all that he is a bishop.” He used often to say that he believed he should not have escaped alive, if a ringleader among the rabble had not cried out, “let him go and hang himself.” He was then committed to the custody of the usher of the black rod; and, as Whitlocke tells us, “April 1645, was brought before the Commons for christening a child in the old way, and signing it with the sign of the cross, contrary to the directory; and, because he refused to deliver up the seal of the county-palatine of Durham, he was committed to the Tower.” Here he continued six months, and then returned to his lodgings at Durham-house; the parliament, upon the dissolution of the bishoprics, voted him an annuity. Whitlocke informs us, that, in May 1649, an ordinance passed for 800l. per annum to bishop Morton; but Barwick observes, that, while he^vas able to subsist without it, he never troubled himself with looking after it; and, at last, when he had no alternative but to claim this, or be burthcnsome to his friends, he determined upon the former, and procured a copy of the vote, but found it to contain no more than that such a sum should be paid, but no mention either by whom or whence. And before he could obtain an explanation of the order to make the pension payable out of the revenues of his own bishopric, all the lands and revenues of it were sold or divided among members of parliament themselves. Only by the importunity of his friends he procured an order to have a thousand pounds out of their treasury at Goldsmitbs’-hall, with which he paid his debts, and purchased to himself an annuity of 200l. per annum, during life; which annuity was

Soon after the birth of Thomas, his father was appointed master of the free grammar-school at Biddeford, in the north of Devonshire, whither he removed with his family; and here, under his own immediate care, his son Thomas received his education. At a very early period of life he gave strong indications of that mechanical genius by which he has since been so eminently distinguished; for, while he was yet a school-boy, he could with ease take to pieces a watch, and put it together again, without any previous instruction. At the age of fourteen he was bound apprentice to Mr. George Graham, watch-maker, a distinguished philosopher, and the most celebrated mechanic of his time. He soon attracted the particular attention of his master, who so highly estimated his mechanical powers, that, upon all occasions, he assigned to him the nicest and most difficult work; and once, in particular, having been applied to by one of his friends to construct a machine new in its mechanical operation, his friend, some time after it had been sent home, complained that it did not perform its office. Mr. Graham answered, that he was very certain the complaint could not be well founded, the work having been executed “by his apprentice, Thomas;” and, indeed, it appeared, upon examination, that Mr. Graham was fully justified in this implicit confidence in his apprentice, the work having been executed in a very masterly manner, and the supposed defect arising entirely from the unskilful management of the owner.

, commonly called Regiomontanus, from his native place, Mons Regius, or Koningsberg, a town in Franconia, was born in 1436, and became the greatest astronomer and mathematician of his time. He was indeed a very prodigy for genius and learning. Having first acquired grammatical learning in his own country, he was admitted, while yet a boy, into the academy at Leipsic, where he formed a strong attachment to the mathematical sciences, arithmetic, geometry, astronomy, &c. But not finding proper assistance in these studies at this place, he removed, at only fifteen years of age, to Vienna, to study under the famous Purbacb, the professor there, who read lectures in those sciences with the highest reputation. A strong and affectionate friendship soon took place between these two, and our author made such rapid improvement in the sciences, that he was able to be assisting to his master, and to become his companion in all his labours. In this manner they spent about ten years together, elucidating obscurities, observing the motions of the heavenly bodies, and comparing and correcting the tables of them, particularly those of Mars, which they found to disagree with the motions, sometimes as much as two degrees.

“Munday was first a stage-player, after an apprentise, which tyme he wel served with deceaving of his master, then wandring towardes Italy, by his own report became a cosener in his journey. Comming to Rome, in his short abode there, was charitably relieved, but never admitted in the seminary, as he pleseth to lye in the title of his booke, and being wery of well doing returned home to his first vomite, and was hist from his stage for his folly. Being therby discouraged he set forth a balet against plays, though (o constant youth) he afterwards began again to ruffle upon the stage. I omit (continues this author) among other places his behaviour in Barbican with his good mistress and mother. Two things, however, must not be passed over of this boy’s infelicitie, two several ways of late notorious. First he writing upon the death of Everard Haunse, was immediately controled and disproved by one of his owne batche, and shortly after setting forth the apprehension of M. Campion was disproved by George (I was about to say Judas) Eliot, who writing against him, proved that those things he did were for lukers sake only, and not for the truthe thogh he himself be a person of the same predicament, of whom I muste say that if felony be honesty, then he may for his behaviore be taken for a lawful witness against so good men.”

a very extraordinary personage, was born at Swansea, in Glamorganshire, Oct. 18, 1674. His father was a gentleman, whose principal income arose from a partnership in a glass-house: his mother was niece to colonel Poyer, who was killed by Oliver Cromwell, for defending Pembroke-castle against the rebels. He was educated at Carmarthen-school, and thence sent to Jesus college, Oxford, in order to prepare him for the study of the law. His father had strained his little income to give his son such an education; and from the boy’s natural vivacity, he hoped a recompence from his future preferment. In college, however, he soon shewed, that, though much might be expected from his genius, nothing could be hoped from his industry. The first method Nash took to distinguish himself at college was not by application to study, but by assiduity in intrigue. Our hero was quickly caught, and went through all the mazes and adventures of a college intrigue, before he was seventeen he offered marriage, the offer was accepted but, the affair coming to the knowledge of his tutors, his happiness, or perhaps misery, was prevented, and he was sent home from college, with necessary advice to him, and proper instructions to his father. He now purchased a pair of colours, commenced a professed admirer of the sex, and dressed to the very edge of his finances; but soon becoming disgusted with the life of a soldier, quitted the army, entered his name as a student in the Temple-books, and here went to the very summit of second-rate luxury. He spent some years about town, till at last, his genteel appearance, his constant civility, and still more his assiduity, gained him the acquaintance of several persons qualified to lead the fashion both by birth and fortune. He brought a person genteelly dressed to every assembly; he always made one of those who are called good company; and assurance gave him an air of elegance and ease.

These fancies sometimes engrossed so much of his thoughts that he was apt to neglect his book, and dull boys were now and then put over him in his form. But this made him redouble his pains to overtake them, and such was his capacity that he could soon do it, and outstrip them when he pleased: and this was taken notice of by his master. He used himself to relate that he was very negligent at school, and very low in it till the boy above him gave him a kick which put him to great pain. Not content with having threshed his adversary, Isaac could not rest till he had got before him in the school, and from that time he continued rising until he was head-boy. Still, no disappointments of the above kind could induce him to lay aside his mechanical inventions; but during holidays, and every moment allotted to play, he employed himself in knocking and hammering in his lodging-room, pursuing the strong bent of his inclination, not only in things serious, but in ludicrous contrivances, calculated to please his school-fellows as well as himself; as, for example, paper kites, which he first introduced at Grantham, and of which he took pains to find out their proper proportion and figures, and the proper place for fixing the string to them. He made lanterns of paper crimpled, which he used to go to school by in winter mornings with a candle, and he tied them to the tails of his kites in a dark night, which at first frightened the country people exceedingly, who took his candles for comets. He was no less diligent in observing the motion of the sun, especially in the yard of the house where he lived, against the wall and roof, wherein he drove pegs, to mark the hours and half hours made by the shade. These, by some years’ observation, he made so exact that any body knew what o'clock it was by Isaac’s dial, as they usually called it.

If Newton wrote these lines, it must be remembered that they were written when he was only a boy at school.

Of the writings of Mr. Oldys, some of which were anonymous, the following account is probably very imperfect: I. In the British Museum is Oidys’s copy of “Langbaine’s _ Lives,” &c. not interleaved, but filled with notes written in the margin, and between the lines, in an extremely small hand. It came to the Museum as a part of the library of Dr. Birch, who bought it at an auction of Oidys’s books and papers for one guinea. Transcripts of this have been made by various literary gentlemen. 2. Mr. Gough, in the first volume of his “British Topography,” p. 567, tells us, that he had “been favoured, by George Steevens, esq. with the use of a thick folio of titles of books and pamphlets relative to London, and occasionally to Westminster and Middlesex, from 1521 to 1758, collected by the late Mr. Oldys, with many others added, as it seems, in another hand. Among them,” he adds, “are many purely historical, and many of too low a kind to rank under the head of topography or histpry. The rest, which are very numerous, I have inserted, marked O, with corrections, &c. of those I had myself collected. Mr. Steevens purchased this ms. of T. Davies, who bought Mr. Oidys’s library. It had been in the hands of Dr. Berkenhout, who had a design of publishing an English Topographer, and riiay possibly have inserted the articles in a different hand. It afterwards became the property of sir John Hawkins.” 3. “The British Librarian, exhibiting a compendious Review of all unpublished and valuable books, in all sciences,” which was printed without his name, in 1737, 8vo, and after having been long neglected and sold at a low price, is now valued as a work of such accuracy and utility deserves. 4, A “Life of sir Waiter Raleigh,” prefixed to his “History of the World,” in folio. 5. “Introduction to Hay ward’s British Muse (1738);” of which he says, “that the penurious publishers, to contract it within a sheet, left out a third part of the best matter in it, and made more faults than were in the original.” In this he was assisted by Dr. Campbell. 6. “His Observations on the Cure of William Taylor, the blind boy at Ightharn, in Kent, by John Taylor, jun. oculist, 1753,” 8vo. Thetide of the pamphlet here alluded to was, “Observations on the Cure of William Taylor, the blind Boy, of Ightham, in Kent, who, being born with cataracts in both eyes, was at eight years of age brought to sight on the 8th of October, 1751, by Mr. John Taylor, jun. oculist, in Hattongarden; containing his strange notions of objects upon the first enjoyment of his new sense; also, some attestations thereof; in a letter written by his father, Mr. William Taylor, farmer, in the same parish: interspersed with several curious examples, and remarks, historical and philosophical, thereupon. Dedicated to Dr. Monsey, physician to theRoyal hospital at Chelsea. Also, some address to the public, for a contribution towards the foundation of an hospital for the blind, already begun by some noble personages,” 8vo. 7. Various lives in the “Biographia Britannica,” with the signature G, the initial letter of Gray’sInn, where he formerly lived. He mentions, in his notes on Langbaine, his life of sir George Etherege, of Caxton, of Thomas May, and of Edward Alleyn, inserted in that work. He composed the “Life of Atherton;” which, if it ever deserved to have had a place in that work, ought not to have been removed from it any more than the “Life of Eugene Aram,” which is inserted in the second edition. That the publishers of the second edition meant no indignity to Oldys, by their leaving out his “Life of Atherton,” appears fram their having transcribed into their work a much superior quantity of his writings, consisting of notes and extracts from printed books, styled “Oldys’s Mss.” Of these papers no other account is given than that “they are a large and useful body of biographical materials;” but we may infer, from the known industry and narrow circumstances of the writer, that, if they had been in any degree prepared for public consideration, they would not have so long lain dormant. 8. At the importunity of Curll, he gave him a sketch of the life of Nell Gvvin, to help out his V History of the Stage.“9. He was concerned with Des Maizeaux in writing the” Life of Mr. Richard Carew,“the antiquary of Cornwall, in 1722. 10.” Observations, Historical and Critical, on the Catalogue of English Lives.“Whether this was ever printed we know not. 11.” Tables of the eminent persons celebrated by English Poets.“This he seems to quote in a manuscript note on Langbaine, but it does not appear to have been printed. 12. He mentions, ibidem, the first volume of his” Poetical Characteristics,“on which we may make the same remark. If these two works continued in ms. during his life-time, it is probable that they were not finished for publication, or that no bookseller would buy them. 13. O,idys seems to have been concerned likewise as a writer in the” General Dictionary,“for he mentions his having been the author of” The Life of sir-John Talbot,“in that work and in Birch’s Mss. is a receipt from him for \.L 5s. for writing the article of Fas tolf 14. He mentions likewise, in his notes on Langbaine, that he was the author of a pamphlet against Toland, called” No blind Guides.“15. He says, ibidem, that he communicated many things to Mrs. Cooper, which she published in her” Muse’s Library.“16. In 1746 was published, in 12mo,” health’s Improvement; or, Rules comprising the nature, method, and manner, of preparing foods used in this nation. Written by that ever famous Thomas Moffett, doctor in physic; corrected and enlarged by Christopher Bennet, doctor in physic, and fellow of the College of Physicians in London. To which is now prefixed, a short View of the Author’s Life and Writings, by Mr. Oldys; and an Introduction by R. James, M. D.“17. In the first volume of British Topography,” page 31, mention is made of a translation of “Gamden’s Britannia,” in 2 vols. 4to, “by W. O. esq.” which Mr. Gough, with great probability, ascribes to Mr. Oldys. 18. Among the Mss. in the British Museum, described in Mr. Ayscough’s Catalogue, we find p. 24, “Some Considerations upon the publication of sir Thomas Roe’s Epistolary Collections, supposed to be written by Mr. Oldys, and by him tendered to Sam. Boroughs, esq. with proposals, and some notes of Dr. Birch.” 19. In p. 736, “Memoirs of the family of Oldys.” 20. In p. 741, “Two small pocket books of short Biographical Anecdotes of many Persons,” and “some Fragments of Poetry,” perhaps collected by Mr. Oldys? 21. In p. 750, and p. 780, are two ms letters “of Mr. Oldys,” 1735 and 1751. 22. It is said, in a ms paper, by Dr. Dticarel, who knew him well, that Oldys had by him, at the time of his death, some collections towards a “Life of Shakspeare,” but not digested into any order, as he told the doctor a few days before he died. 23. On the same authority he is said to be a writer in, or the writer of, “The Scarborough Miscellany,” 1732, and 1734. 24. “The Universal Spectator,” of which he was some time the publisher, was a newspaper, a weekly journal, said; on the top of the paper, which appeared originally in single sheets, to be “by Henry Stonecastle, in Northumberland,” 1730 1732. It was afterwards collected into two volumes 8vo to which a third and fourth were added in 1747. In one of his Mss. we find the following wellturned anagram

Mr. Ozell had the good fortune to escape all those vicissitudes and anxieties in regard to pecuniary circumstances which too frequently attend on men of literary abilities; for, besides that he was, from his earliest setting out in life, constantly in possession of very good places, having been for some years auditor-general of the city and bridge accounts, and, to the time of his decease, auditor of the accounts of St. Paul’s cathedral and St. Thomas’s Hospital, all of them posts of considerable emolument; a gentleman, who was a native of the same country with him, who had known him from a school-boy, and it is said lay under particular obligations to his family, dying when Mr. Ozell was in the very prime of life, left him such a fortune as would have been a competent support for him if he should at any time have chosen to retire from business entirely, which, however, it does not appear he ever did. He died Oct. 15, 1743, and was buried in the vault of a church belonging to the parish of St. Mary Aldermanbury; but in what year he was born, and consequently his age at the time of his death, are particulars that we do not find on record. Mr. Ozell was a man of application, but of no ta’ste or genius, yet acquired some reputation for his numerous translations, and would have deserved more had he confined his labours to serious works, where a reader may be content with a literal meaning; but it was his misfortune to undertake works of humour and fancy, which were qualities he seemed not to possess himself, and therefore could not do justice to in others. Moliere, particularly, is an author of that superior genius, that it would require abilities almost equal to his own to translate him in such a manner as to give him, in the clothing of our own language, the air and manner of a native.

, a celebrated divine of the reformed religion, was born Dec. 30, 1548, at Frankenstein in Silesia, and put to the grammar-school there, apparently with a design to breed him to learning; but his father marrying a second time, a capricious and narrow-minded woman, she prevailed with him to place his son apprentice to an apothecary at Breslau; and afterwards changing her mind, the boy was, at her instigation, bound to a shoemaker. Some time after, however, his father resumed his first design, and his son, about the age of sixteen, was sent to the college-school of Hirchberg, in the neighbourhood of Frankenstein, to prosecute his studies under Christopher Schilling, a man of considerable learning, who was rector of the college. It was customary in those times for young students who devoted themselves to literature, to assume a classical name, instead of that of their family. Schilling was a great admirer of this custom, and easily persuaded his scholar to change his German name of Wangler for the Greek one of Pareus, from wa^ice, a cheek, which Wangler also means in German. Pareus had not lived above three months at his father’s expence, when he was enabled to provide for his own support, partly by means of a tutorship in the family, and partly by the bounty of Albertus Kindler, one of the principal men of the place. He lodged in this gentleman’s house, and wrote a poem upon the death of his eldest son, which so highly pleased the father, that he not only gave him a gratuity for it, but encouraged him to cultivate his poetical talents, prescribing him proper subjects, and rewarding him handsomely for every poem which he presented to him.

, an eminent prelate of the sixteenth century, was born at Guild ford, in Surrey, in 1511, and was the son of Mr. George Parkhurst of that place. He was educated there in the grammar school adjoining to Magdalen college gate, under Thomas Robertson, a very famous teacher. He was elected fellow of Merton college in 1529, and three years after, proceeding in arts, entered into holy orders. Anthony Wood says that he was at this time better esteemed for poetry and oratory than divinity. Yet we find him recorded in the life of Jewell, as the tutor of that excellent prelate, who entered of Merton college in 1535, and as “prudently instilling, together with his other learning, those excellent principles into this young gentleman, which afterwards made him the darling and wonder of his age.” Among other useful employments, we find him collating Coverdale and Tindal’s translations of the Bible along with his pupil, of whom he conceived a very high opinion, and on one occasion exclaimed “Surely Paul’s Cross will one day ring of this boy,” a prophecy which was remarkably fulfilled in Jewell’s celebrated sermon there in 1560. Parkhurst, it is true, was a poet and an orator, but he had very early examined the controversy that was about to end in the reformation, and imbibed the spirit of the latter. In 1548, according to a ms note of Baker, he was presented by Thomas lord Seymour to the rich benefice of Bishop’s Cleve in Gloucestershire, which he held three years in commendam, and where he did much good by his hospitality and charity; but the author of Jewell’s life says that he held this living in 1544, and when in that year Jewell commenced master of arts, he bore the charges of it. Nor, says Jewell’s biographer, “was this the only instance wherein he (Jewell) did partake of this good man’s bounty, for he was wont twice or thrice in a year to invite him to his house, and not dismiss him without presents, money, and other things that were necessary for the carrying on his studies. And one time above the rest, coming into his chamber in the morning, when he was to go back to the university, he seized upon his and his companions purses, saying, What mo'ney, I wonder, have these miserable, and beggardly Oxfordians? And finding them pityfully lean and empty, stuffed them with money, till they became both fat and weighty.”

, whose family name was Francis Mazzuoli, is more generally called Parmigiano, from Parma, where he was born in 1503. He studied under two uncles, Michele and Philip, but the chief modelof his imitation was Correggio, from whose works, compared with those of Michael Angelo, Raphael, and Julio, he formed that peculiar style for which he is celebrated. He displayed his natural genius for painting so very early, that at sixteen he is said to have produced designs which would have done honour to an experienced painter. His first public work, the St. Eustachius, in the church of St. Petronius, in Bologna, was done when he was a boy. In 1527, when Rome was sacked by the emperor Charles V. Parmigiano was found, like Protogenes at Rhodes, so intent upon his work as not to notice the confusion of the day. The event is variously related; some say that he escaped, like the ancient artist, from all violence, by the admiration of the soldiers; others, that he was plundered by them of his pictures, though his person was safe the first party who came taking only a few, while those who followed swept away the rest. His turn for music, and particularly his talent for playing on the lute, in some degree seduced him from his principal pursuit; and Vasari says he was much diverted from his art by the quackery of the alchymists; but this fact has by some writers been questioned. He died of a violent fever, in 1540, at the early age of 36.

, in both which ways he wrote his name, a celebrated English Jesuit, was the son of a blacksmith, at Nether Stowey, near Bridgewater in Somersetshire, where he was born in 1546; and, appearing to be a boy of extraordinary parts, was taught Latin by the vicar of the parish, who conceived a. great affection for him t, and contributed to his support at Oxford, where he was admitted of Baliol college in 1563. In the university he became so remarkable, as an acute disputant in scholastic exercises, then much in vogue, that, having taken his first degree in arts in 1568, he was the same year made probationer fellow of his college. He soon after became the most famous tutor in the society, and when he entered into orders, was made socius sacerdos, or chaplain fellow. In 1572 he proceeded M. A. was bursar that year, and the next dean of the college; but it is said that being charged by the society with incontinency, and embezzling the college-money, to avoid the shame of a formal expulsion, he was permitted, out of respect to his learning, to resign, which he did in Feb. 1574, obtaining leave to keep his chamber and pupils as long as he pleased, and to have his commons also till the ensuing Easter. These last circumstances have induced some writers to think that it was merely a change of religious principles which occasioned his resignation.

, a singular instance of an almost universal genius, and of learning, mechanical ingenuity, and ceconomy, applied to useful purposes, was the eldest son of Anthony Petty, a clothier at Rumsey, in Hampshire, and was born May 16, 1623. It does not appear that his father was a man of much property, as he left this son none at his death, in 1641, and contributed very little to his maintenance. When young, the boy took extraordinary pleasure in viewing various mechanics at their work, and so readily conceived the natjure of their employment, and the use of their tools, that he was, at the age of twelve, able to iiandle the latter with dexterity not much inferior to that of the most expert workmen in any trade which he had ever seen. What education he had was first at the grammar-school at Rum?ey, where, according to his own account, he acquired, before the age of fifteen, a competent knowledge of the Latin, Greek, and French languages, and became master of the common rules of arithmetic, geometry, dialling, and the astronomical part of navigation. With this uncommon fund of various knowledge he removed, at the above age of fifteen, to the university of Caen in Normandy. This circumstance is mentioned among those particulars of his early life which he has given in his will, although, by a blunder of the transcriber, Oxford is put for Caen in Collir.s’s Peerage. Wood says that, when he went to Caen, “with a little stock of merchandizing which he then improved, he maintained himself there, learning the French tongue, and at eighteen years of age, the arts and mathematics.” Mr. Aubrey’s account is in these not very perspicuous words: “He has told me, there happened to him the most remarkable accident of life (which he did not tell me), and which was the foundation of all the rest of his greatness and acquiring riches. He informed me that about fifteen, in March, he went over to Caen, in Normandy, in a vessel that went hence, with a little stock, and began to play the merchant, and had so good successe that he maintained himselfe, and also educated himselfe: this I guesse was that most remarkable accident that he meant. Here he learned the French tongue, and perfected himself in Latin, and had Greeke enough to serve his turne. At Caen he studyed the arts. At eighteen, he was (I have heard him say) a better mathematician than he is now; but when occasion is, he knows how to recurre to more mathematical knowledge.” These accounts agree in the main points, and we may learn from both that he had at a very early period begun that money-making system which enabled him to realize a vast fortune. He appears to have been of opinion, that “there are few ways in which a man can be more harmlessly employed than in making money.” On his return to his native country, he speaks of being 1 preferred to^the king’s navy, but in what capacity is not known. This he attributes to the knowledge he had acquired, and his “having been at the university of Caen.” In the navy, however, before he was twenty years of age, he got together about 60l. and the civil war raging at this time, he determined to set out on his travels, for further improvement in his studies. He had now chosen medicine as a profession, and in the year 1643, visited Leyden, Utrecht, Amsterdam, and Paris, at which last city he studied anatomy, and read Vesalixis with the celebrated Hobbes, who was partial to him. Hobbes was then writing on optics, and Mr. Petty, who had a turn that way, drew his diagrams, &c. for him. While at Paris, he informed Aubrey that “at one time he was driven to a great streight for money, and told him, that he lived a week or two on three pennyworths of walnuts.” Aubrey likewise queries whether he was not some time a prisoner there. His ingenuity and industry, however, appear to have extricated him from his difficulties, for we have his own authority that; he returned home in 1646, a richer man by IQl. than he set out, and yet had maintained his brother Anthony as well as himself.

, an ancient Latin author, who wrote five books of “Fables” in Iambic verse, was a Thracian and was born, as there is reason to suppose, some years before Julius Caesar made himself master of the Roman empire. His parentage is uncertain; though some have imagined his liberal education to be an argument that it was not mean. Perhaps he might have been made captive by Octavius, the father of the emperor Augustus; for we read, that while Octavius was prcetor in Macedonia, he gave the Thracians a very great overthrow. This fell out the same year that Q. Cicero was proconsul of Asia, and Csesar sole consul at Rome. As this opinion would carry his age pretty high, Phsedrus outliving the 18th year of Tiberius, pome have therefore rejected it, though with little reason; since many proofs may be collected, from his Fables, that he lived to be very old. How he came into the service of Augustus is unknown: but his being called “Augustus’s freedman,” in the title of his book, shews that he had been that emperor’s slave. It should seem as if he had arrived early in life at Rome for he quotes a line from “Ennius,” which, he says, he remembers to have read when he was a boy and it is not probable that he should have read it before he left Thrace. He received his freedom from Augustus, and no doubt such a competency, as enabled him to enjoy that valuable gift. He expresses a great regard for that prince’s memory, which he had indeed the more reason to do, since misfortunes overtook him after his decease. Under Tiberius, he was unjustly persecuted by Sejanus, to which he has frequently alluded in his “Fables;” and particularly in the preface to his third book. We know not the cause of this persecution, but it was not for his wealth: he represents himself, in the very same place, as a man who had never cared to hoard up riches; and mentions this as one of the reasons which should facilitate his promotion to the rank of a poet. He seems to have written all his Fables after the death of Augustus; the third book he certainly wrote after that of Sejanus, who perished in the eighteenth year of Tiberius; for, in the dedication of that book to his patron Eutychus, he has mentioned the favourite with a resentment which would never have been pardoned had he been living. How long Phsedrus survived him, is uncertain; but, supposing him to have lived a little longer, he must have been above seventy at his death; for so many years there are from Caesar’s first dictatorship to the eighteenth of Tiberius. Chronologers place him between 41 and 54 A. C.

The young Piccini was admitted in that seminary in 1742, and was placed at first under the tuition of a subaltern master, whose lessons, given in a dry and contracted manner, soon disgusted him; and, in a few months, his discontent at such unprofitable instructions drew on him the resentment of his tutor, expressed in no very gentle way. Shocked with this treatment, he resolved to study by himself, and began composing without rules, or any other guides than his own genius and fancy, psalms, oratorios, and opera airs; which soon excited the envy or admiration of all his fellow-students. He even had the courage to compose an entire mass. One of the masters who had seen it, and even permitted him to have it rehearsed, thought it right to mention it to Leo; who, a few days after, sent for Piccini, who, frightened at this message, obeyed the order with fear and trembling. “You have composed a mass,” said Leo, with a cold and almost severe countenance. “Yes, sir.” “Shew me your score.” “Sir, sir,” “Shew it me, I say.” Piccini thought himself ruined, but he must obey. He fetched his score at which Leo looked, turned over the leaves, examined each movement, smiled, rung the bell, as the signal for a rehearsal. The young composer, more dead than alive, begged in vain to be spared what he thought such an affront. The singers and instrumental performers obeyed the summons: the parts were distributed, and the performers waited only for Leo to beat the time. When, turning gravely to Piccini, he presented him the baton, which was then used every where, in the performance of full pieces. Piccini, put to new confusion, wished he had never dared to meddle with composition; but at length rnustere 1 his courage, and marked with a trembling hand the first bars. Soon, however, animated and infl imed by the harmony, he neither saw Leo nor the standers by, who were numerous: he was absorbed in his music, and directed its performance with a fire, energy, and accuracy, which astonished the whole audience, and acquired him great applause. Leo kept a profound silence during the performance. When, it was over “I forgive you, for once,” said he; “but if you are again guilty of such presumption, you shall be punished in such a manner as you will remember as long as you live. What! you have received from nature so estimable a disposition for study, and you lose all the advantages of so precious a gift! Instead of studying the principles of the art, you give way to all the wild vagaries of your imagination, and fancy you have produced a master-piece.” The boy, piqued by these reproaches, related what had passed between him and the assistant-master under whom he was placed. Leo became calm, and even embraced and caressed him; ordering him to come to his apartments every morning, to receive instructions from himself.

, of Mirandula, considered as a prodigy of learning in his day, was the youngest child of John Francis Picus, prince of Mirandula and Concordia, by Julia, of the noble house of Boirado; and was born Feb. 24, 1463. His father dying early, his mother took great care of his education; and the progress he made in letters was so extremely rapid, that his friends are said to have seen with astonishment a mere boy become one of the first poets and orators of his age. What contributed to this progress, besides intense application, was great vigour of intellect, and a memory so tenacious, as to let nothing be lost which he had ever read or heard. At fourteen years of age, being designed for the church, he was sent to Bologna to study canon law; and though he was soon disgusted with a study so lirtle suited to his talents and fertile imagination, he acquired a knowledge of it sufficient to enable him to compose an abbreviated digest, or manual, of the pontifical letters, termed Decretals, in a manner that would have done credit to the most accomplished professor. Having afforded this proof of early capacity, on a subject so ungenial, he left Bologna, and visiting successively all the most celebrated schools and colleges of Italy and France, he profited so well by what was taught there, or by what he learned in discussions with the eminent scholars and professors, that, before he had attained to manhood, he was universally recognized as a most consummate philosopher and divine.

, one of the most celebrated sculptors that France has produced, was born at Paris in 1714, the son of a joiner, and by his talents became not only sculptor to the king, but chancellor of the academy of painting, and knight of the order of St. Michael. He did not manifest any early disposition for designing; he loved to model, but set about it awkwardly, and finished nothing but by means of indefatigable labour. A visit to Italy gave him that facility which he could not acquire at home. He there studied the works of the great artists, and returned thoroughly inspired with their genius. He died at Paris, Aug. 20, 1785. His most known works are, 1. “A Mercury and a Venus,” which he made by order of Louis XV. and which were presented to the king of Prussia. The king, who was delighted with them, was desirous to see the sculptor; and Pigalle, some time after, went to Berlin, but, being announced as the author of the Mercure de France, could not obtain an audience. When Frederic understood the mistake, he was very anxious to repair it; but Pigalle was already gone in some digust. Pigalle maintained that none of the heads of Frederic did justice to his physiognomy, which, in point of spirit, was the finest he had ever seen; and much regretted that he had not been allowed to model it. 2. The monument of marechal Saxe, in which the beauty of the whole obliterates all objections to the parts. 3. The pedestrian statue of Louis *XV. executed in bronze for the city of Rheims. 4. The statue of Voltaire. 5. A little boy holding a cage. '6. A girl taking a thorn from her foot. 7. Several busts of men of letters who were his friends. If Pigaile cannot be ranked among the men of the first genius in his art, the good sense of his designs, and the soundness of his taste, afford him a place in the very next class.

In 1549, our cardinal had the prospect of advancement to all of power and dignity which the church of Rome had to bestow, the chair of St. Peter itself. On the death of pope Paul III. he was proposed in the conclave as his successor by cardinal Farnese, and the majority of votes appeared to be in his favour, when an opposition was excited by the French party, with cardinal Caraffa at their head, who hoped, if Pole were set aside, to be chosen himself. It was necessary, however, to show some strong grounds for opposing cardinal Pole and these, bad they been proved, were certainly strong enough, heresy and incontinency he had been lenient to the protestants at Viterbo, and he was the reputed father of a young girl, at this time a nun. But against both these charges Pole vindicated himself in the most satisfactory manner, and his party determined to elect him. Why they did not succeed is variously related. It is said that they were so impatient to bring the matter to a conclusion as to go late at night to Pole’s house to pay their adorations to him, according to custom, and that Pole refused to accede to such a rash and unseasonable proceeding, and requested they would defer it until morning. They then retired, but immediately after two of the cardinals came again to him, and assured him that they required nothing of him but what was usual upon which he gave his consent, but afterwards repented, and endeavoured to retract. The cardinals, in the mean time, of their own accord had deferred proceedings until next morning, when a very different spirit appeared in the conclave, and the election fell upon cardinal de Monte, who reigned as pope by the name of Julius, 111. a man of whom it is sufficient to say that he gave his cardinal’s hat to a boy who had the care of his monkey. When Pole appeared, with the other cardinals, to perform his adoration to the new pope, the latter raised him up and embraced him, telling him, that it was to his disinterestedness he owed the papacy. How far our cardinal was really disinterested, is a matter of dispute. Some suppose that he still had in view a marriage with the princess Mary, and the hopes of a crown; and it is certain that he had hitherto never taken priest’s orders, that he might be at liberty to return to the secular world, which his being only a cardinal would not have opposed.

, a famous sculptor of antiquity, was a native of Sicyon, and flourished about the year 430 B. C. We know nothing of his history but from incidental notice of him in Pliny. His Doryphorus, one of his figures, for his excellence lay in single figures, was esteemed a canon of proportion; we read also of the statue of a boy, which was estimated at a hundred talents, or perhaps nearly 20,000l. according to our mode of reckoning. The emperor Titus had two naked boys playing at a game, by his hand, which was considered as a perfect performance. Lysippus the painter formed his manner on the study of the Doryphorus of this artist.

, a late eminent Greek scholar and most accomplished critic, was born at East Ruston, in Norfolk, Dec. 25, 1759, and was first initiated in knowledge by his father, Mr. Huggin Person, the parish-clerk of East Ruston, who, though in humble life, and without the advantages himself of early education, 'laid the basis of his son’s unparalleled acquirements. From the earliest dawn of intellect, Mr. Person began the task of fixing the attention of his children, three sons and a daughter; and he had taught Richard, his eldest son, all the common rules of arithmetic, without the use of a book or slate, pen or pencil, up to the cube root, before he was nine years of age. The memory was thus incessantly exercised; and by this early habit of solving a question in arithmetic, he acquired such a talent of close and intense thinking, and such a power of arranging every operation that occupied his thought, as in process of time to render the most difficult problems, which to other men required the assistance of written figures, easy to the retentive faculties of his memory. He was initiated in letters by a process equally efficacious, and which somewhat resembled Dr. Bell’s admirable plan. His father taught him to read and write at one and the same time. He drew the form of the letter either with chalk on a board, or with the finger in sand; and Richard was made at once to understand and imitate the impression. As soon as he could speak he could trace the letters; and this exercise delighting his fancy, an ardour of imitating whatever was put before him was excited to such a degree that the walls of the house were covered with characters delineated with great neatness and fidelity. At nine years of age, he and his youngest brother, Thomas, were sent to the village school, kept by a Mr. Summers, a plain but intelligent man, who having had the misfortune in infancy to cripple his left hand, was educated for the purpose of teaching, and he discharged his duties with the most exemplary attention. He professed nothing beyond English, writing, and arithmetic but he was a good accountant, and an excellent writing-master. He perfected Mr. Richard Porson in that delightful talent of writing, in which he so peculiarly excelled but which we are doubtful whether to consider as an advantage, or a detriment to him, in his progress through life. It certainly had a considerable influence on his habits, and made him devote many precious moments in copying, which might have been better employed in composition. It has been the means, however, of enriching his library with annotations, in a text the most beautiful, and with such perfect imitation of the original manuscript or printing, as to embellish every work which his erudition enabled him to elucidate. He continued under Mr. Summers for three years; and every evening during that time he had to repeat by heart to his father the lessons and the tasks of the day; and this not in a loose or desultory manner, but in the rigorous order in which they hadbeen taught; and thus again the process of recollection was cherished and strengthened, so as to become a quality of his mind. It was impossible that such a youth should remain unnoticed, even in a place so thinly peopled, and so obscure, as the parish of East Ruston. The reverend Mr. Hewitt, vicar of the parish, heard of his extraordinary propensities to study, his gift of attention to whatever was taught him, and the wonderful fidelity with which he retained whatever he had acquired. He took him and his brother Thomas under his care, and instructed them in the classics. The progress of both was great, but that of Richard was most extraordinary, and when he had reached his fourteenth year, had engaged the notice of all the gentlemen in the vicinity. Among others, he was mentioned as a prodigy to an opulent and liberal man, the late Mr- Norris, or‘ Grosvenorplace, who, after having put him under an examination of the severest kind, from which an ordinary boy would have shrunk dismayed, sent him to Eton in August 1774, when he was in his 15th year. In that great seminary, he almost, from the commencement of his career, displayed such a superiority of intellect, such facility of acquirement, such quickness of perception, and sucli a talent of bringing forward to his purpose all that he had ever read, that the upper boys took him into their society, and promoted the cultivation of his mind by their lessons, as well, probably, as by imposing upon him the performance of their own exercises . He was courted’ by them as the never-failing resource in every difficulty and in all the playful excursions of the imagination, in their frolics, as well as in their serious tasks, Person was the constant adviser and support. He used to dwell on this lively part of his youth with peculiar complacency, and used to repeat a drama which he wrote for exhibition in their long chamber, and other compositions, both of seriousness and drollery, with a zest that the recollection of his enjoyment at the time never failed to revive in him. A very learned scholar, to whom the public was indebted for “A short account of Mr. Person,” published soon after his death, has the following remarks on his progress at Eton “By his own confession he learnt nothing, or added little to his stock, at school and perhaps for a good reason, since he had every thing that was given him to read, where he was first placed, by heart; that is, he could repeat all the Horace, and all the Virgil, commonly read at Eton, and the Iliad, and extracts from the Odyssey, Cicero, and Livy, with the Ambubaiarum of Horace, the Eclogues and Georgics, and the Culex, Ciris, and Catalecta, which they do not read. But still, though he would not own it, he was much obliged to the collision of a public school for the rapidity with which he increased his knowledge, and the correction of himself by the mistakes of others.”

, an English surgeon of the highest eminence, was born in Thread needle-street, London, in December 1713. His father dying before he was quite four years old, he was left, in some degree, to the protection and patronage of Wilcox, bishop of Rochester, who was a distant relation of his mother. The profession of surgery was his own decided choice, though the connection above mentioned might naturally have led him to the church; and, in 1729, he was bound apprentice to Mr. Nourse, one of the surgeons of St. Bartholomew’s hospital, under whom he was profoundly instructed, in what, at that time, was taught only by a few, the science of anatomy. His situation brought with it an abundance of practical knowledge, to which his own industry led him to add all that can be gained from a sagacious and careful perusal of the early writers on surgery. Thus qualified, he was admirably calculated to reform the superfluous and awkward modes of practice which had hitherto disgraced the art. In 1736, having finished his apprenticeship, he took a house in Fencburch-street, and quickly was distinguished as a young man of the most brilliant and promising talents. In 1745, he was elected an assistant surgeon; and, in 1749, one of the principal surgeons of St. Bartholomew’s hospital. It was one of the honours of Mr. Pott’s life, that he divested surgery of its principal horrors, by substituting a mild and rational mode of practice (notwithstanding the opposition of the older surgeons), instead of the actual cautery, and other barbarous expedients which had hitherto been employed and he lived to enjoy the satisfaction of seeing his improved plan universally adopted. Though he possessed the most distinguished talents for communicating his thoughts in writing, it seems to have been by accident that he was led to become an author. Immersed in practice, it does not appear that hitherto he had written any thing, except a paper “on tumours attended with a softening of the bones,” in the forty-first volume of the Philosophical Transactions; but, in 1756, a compound fracture of the leg, occasioned by a fall of his horse in the streets, gave him leisure to plan, and in part to write, his Treatise on Ruptures. The flattering reception of his publications attached him afterwards to this mode of employing his talents, so that he was seldom long without being engaged in some work. His leg was with difficulty preserved, and he returned to the labours of his profession. In 1764, he had the honour of being elected a fellow of the Royal Society; and in the ensuing year he began to give lectures at his house, which was then in Watling-street; but finding it necessary, from the increase of his business, to choose a more central situation, he removed, in 1769, to Lincoln’s-rnn-fields, and in 1777 to Hanover-square. His reputation had now risen nearly to the greatest height, bj means of his various publications, and the great success of his practice. He was universally consulted, and employed by persons of the first rank and situation; and received honorary tributes to his merit from the royal college of surgeons at Edinburgh and in Ireland. In 1787, he resigned the office of surgeon to St. Bartholomew’s hospital, “after having served it,” as he expressed himself, “man and boy, for half a century” and in December 1788, in consequence of a cold caught by going out of town to a patient in very severe weather, he died, at the age of seventy-five. He was buried near his mother, in the church of St. Mary Aldermary, Bow-lane, where a tablet was affixed to his memory, inscribed by his son, the rev. J. H. Pott, the present archdeacon of London, and vicar of St. Martin’s-­in-the-fields.

A deep sigh filled up the judicious break in the last line, and the audience felt the complete effect of the strongest sympathy. About the same time Cato was performed at Leicester-house by the family of Frederick prince of Wales, and Quin, whom the prince strongly patronized, was employed to instruct the young performers. From his judgment in the English language, he was also engaged to teach his present majesty, and the other royal children, a correct mode of pronunciation, and delivery on which account, when the theatrical veteran was afterwards informed of the graceful manner in which the king pronounced his first speech in parliament, he is said to have exclaimed with eagerness, “I taught the boy”

, an eminent scholar and teacher, was born May 20, 1760. He received the first rudiments of his education under his father, the rev. Matthew Raine, who was for many years a schoolmaster of ability and reputation at Hackforth near Richmond in Yorkshire. In June 1772, he was admitted on the foundation of the Charter-house, to which he was nominated by the king at the request of lord Holderness. After distinguishing himself, as a boy, he was elected, in 1778, to a Charter-house exhibition at Trinity college, Cambridge, of which he became a fellow in 1783, having taken the degree of B. A. in 1782. He engaged for some time in tuition at the university, and had several distinguished pupils. In 1791, he was elected schoolmaster of the Charter-house, his only opponent being Charles Burney, D. D. whose talents as a scholar were even then generally acknowledged, and are now perhaps unrivalled.

, doctor of music, and an ecclesiastical composer, whose works are still contained in our cathedral service, and for whose fame Anthony Wood has manifested great zeal, was born at Windsor, and brought up in that college under Dr. Nath. Giles; being employed there, first as a singing boy, and afterwards in the capacity of lay clerk or singing man. Thence he went to Ireland, and was appointed organist of Christ-church ia Dublin, where he continued till the breaking out of the rebellion, in 1641; at which time, being forced to quit his station, he returned to Windsor, where he was again reinstated as choirman; but being soon after silenced in consequence of the civil wars, he procured a subsistence by teaching in the neighbourhood. And during this time, according to his friend Anthony Wood, having addicted himself much to study, he acquired great credit as a composer, and produced several sets of airs in four parts for violins and an organ, which being then imagined the best that could be composed of that kind, were sent as great rarities to the archduke Leopold, afterwards emperor, and himself a great musician; and, upon their being performed by his band, they were very much admired.

, an illustrious Italian painter, the son of a painter, was born at Rome in 1601, or as some writers say, in 1594. He learned the principles of his art under his father, but became afterwards the disciple of Francesco Albano, and made such advances, that, under twelve years of age, he carried the prize, in the academy of St. Luke, from all his much older competitors. With this badge of honour, they gave him the nickname of Andreuccio, to denote the diminutive figure he then made, being a boy; and which he long retained. His application to the works of Polidoro da Caravaggio and Raphael, and the antique marbles, together with his studies under Albano, and his copying after Correggio, and others, the best Lombard masters, were the several steps by which he raised himself to extraordinary perfection in historical composition The three first gave him his correctness and elegance of design; and the last made him the best colourist of all the Roman school. His works are not very numerous, o ving io the infirmities which attended his latter years; and especially the gout, which occasioned frequent and long interruptions to his labours. He was likewise slow and fastididus, and wished to rest his fame more upon the quality than quantity of his performances. His first patrons were the cardinals Antonio Barberini and del Morte, the protector of the academy of painting. He became afterwards a great favourite of Urban VIII. and drew an admirable portrait of him. Several of the public edifices at Rome are ^embellished with his works, some of which have been ranked among the most admired productions of art in that capital. Such are his celebrated picture of the Death of St. Anne, in the church of S. Carlo a Catinari; the Angel appearing to St. Joseph, the principal altar-piece in S. Giuseppe a Capo le Case; and his St. Andrea, in the Quirinal. But his most distinguished performance is his famous picture of S/Romualdo, formerly in the church dedicated to that saint, now in the gallery of the Louvre. This admirable production was considered one of the four finest pictures at Rome, where Sacchi died in 1668.

, lord viscount Bolingbroke, an eminent statesman and writer, was descended from an ancient and noble family, and born, as all his biographers say, in 1672, but it appears by the register of Battersea parish that he was baptised Oct. 10, 1678. His father, sir Henry St. John, son of sir Walter St. John, died at Battersea, his family-seat, July 3, 1708, in his eighty- seventh year his mother was lady Mary, second daughter and coheiress of Robert Rich, earl of Warwick. He was bred up, with great care, under the inspection of his grandfather, as well as his father, who neglected no means to cultivate his mind. It was once noticed in parliament that he was educated in dissenting principles, and it is very certain that the first director of his studies was the famous Daniel Burgess, who, with all his oddities (See Burgess) was frequently employed as tutor to the sons of men of rank. Goldsmith seems desirous to impute Bolingbroke’s infidelity to this divine, and to his being obliged to read Manton’s Sermons on the 119th Psalm but such an opinion is as dangerous as it is absurd. From Burgess or Manton, he could have imbibed only a higher reverence for religion than was to be expected from a lively youth; and as to the disgust he felt, to which his biographer seems inclined to trace his infidelity, it is probable that a boy would not have entertained much less dislike to a voluminous history of England, if obliged to read it when he wished to be idle. But, whatever instruction he might receive from his first tutors, it is very certain, that he had a regular and liberal education. He was sent to Eton, where he had for his companion and rival sir Robert Waipole. “The parts of Mr. St. John,” says Coxe, “were more lively and brilliant, those of Walpole more steady and solid. Walpole was industrious and diligent, because his talents required application; St. John was negligent, because his quickness of apprehension rendered labour less necessary.” These characteristics prevailed in both throughout life. From Eton Mr. St. John was removed to Christ-church, Oxford, where he made a shining figure as a polite scholar, and when he left the university, he was considered as a youth highly accomplished for public life. His person was agreeable, and he had a dignity mixed with sweetness in his looks, and a manner very prepossessing, and, as some of his contemporaries said, irresistible. He had much acuteness, great judgment, and a prodigious memory. Whatever he read he retained so as to make it entirely his own; but in youth, he was not in general much given either to reading or reflection. With great parts, he had, as it usually happens, great passions which hurried him into those indiscretions and follies that distinguish the libertine. He does not, however, appear to have been without his serious moments, nor always unwilling to listen to the voice of conscience. “There has been something always,” says he, “ready to whisper in my ear, while I ran the course of pleasure and of business, * Solve senescentem mature sanus equum;‘ < and while ’tis well, release thy aged horse.' But my genius, unlike the demon of Socrates, whispered so softly, that very often I heard him not, in the hurry of those passions with which I was transported. Some calmer hours there were in them I hearkened to him. Reflection had often its turn and the love of study and the desire of knowledge have never quite abandoned me. I am not, therefore, entirely unprepared for the life I will lead; and it is not without reason that I promise myself more satisfaction in the latter part of it than I ever knew in the former.”

, one of the most learned men of the seventeenth century, and whom Baillet has with great propriety classed among his “Enfant celebres par les etudes,” was born at Semur-en-Auxois, in Burgundy. His family was ancient and noble, and his father, an eminent lawyer, and a member of the parliament of Burgundy, wasa man of worth and learning. Respecting the time of his birth, all his biographers differ. Peter Burman, who has compared their differences, justly thinks it very strange that so many persons who were his contemporaries and knew him intimately, should not have ascertained the exact dates either of his birth or death. The former, however, we presume may be fixed either in 1593 or 1594. He was educated at first solely by his father, who taught him Latin and Greek with astonishing success. At the age of ten he was able to translate Pindar very correctly, and wrote Greek and Latin verses. At the age of eleven, his father wished to send him for farther education to the Jesuits’ college at Dijon, not to board there, but to attend lessons twice a day, and improve them at his lodgings. In this scheme, however, he was disappointed. His mother, who was a protestant, had not only inspired Claude with a hatred of the Jesuits, but encouraged him to write satires against the order, which he did both in Greek and Latin, and entertained indeed throughout life the same aversion to them. Having refused therefore to comply with his father’s request m this respect, his mothef proposed to send him to Paris, where her secret wish was that he should be confirmed in her religion. This being complied with, he soon formed an acquaintance with Casaubon and some other learned men in that metropolis, who were astonished to find such talents and erudition in a mere boy. During his residence here he conversed much with the clergy of the reformed church, and being at length determined to make an open avowal of his attachment to protestantism, he asked leave of his father to go to Heidelberg, partly that he might apply to the study of the law, but principally that he might be more at his freedom in religious matters. Baillet calls this a trick of his new preceptors, who wished to persuade Salmasius’s father that Paris, with respect to the study of the law, was not equal to Heidelberg, where was the celebrated Denis Godefroi, and an excellent library.

the only clergyman belonging to it. In lain, and a well-stored wine-cellar clergyman ever admitted into it, was a member of Emanuel college, Cambridge, where he took his degrees, and was D. D. of both universities. He was rector, first of Bygrave, then of Clottiall, Herts, and lecturer of St. George, Hanover-square, London. In his younger days he had travelled with James, fifth earl of Salisbury, who gave him the great living of Clothall, where Dr. Savage rebuilt the rectory-house. In his more advanced years he was so lively, pleasant, and facetious, that he was called the “Aristippus” of the age. One day, at the levee, George I. asked him, “How long he had stayed at Rome with lord Salisbury” Upon his answering how long, “Why,” said the king, “you stayed long enough, why did you not convert the Pope” “Because, sir,” replied he, “I had nothing better to offer him.” Having been bred at Westminster, he had always Jl great fondness for the school, attended at all their plays and elections, assisted in all their public exercises, grew young again, and, among boys, was a great boy himself. He used to attend the schools, to furnish the lads with extempore epigrams at the elections. He died March 24, 1747, by a fall down the stairs belonging to the scaffolding for lord Lovat’s trial; and the king’s scholars had so great a regard for him, that, after his decease, they made a collection among themselves, and, at their own charge, erected a small tablet of white marble to his memory in the East cloister, with a Latin inscription. Besides a visitation and an assize sermon, Mr. Cole attributes the following works to him: 1. “The Turkish History by Mr. Knolles and sir Paul Rycaut abridged,” 1701, 2 vols. 8vo. This was shewn to sir Paul, who approved of it so much, that he designed to have written a preface to it, had not death prevented him. 2. “A Collection of Letters of the Ancients, whereby is discovered the morality, gallantry, wit, humour, manner of arguing, and in a word the genius of the Greeks and Romans,” 1703, 8vo.

, a German writer, principally known in this country as a dramatist, was born Nov. 10, 1759, at Marbach, in the duchy jf Wurtemberg, where his father was lieutenant in the service of the duke. While a boy, he was distinguished by uncommon ardour of imagination, which he never sought to limit or controul. When young, he was placed in the military school at Stuttgard, but disliked the necessary subordination. He was intended for the profession of surgery, and which he studied for some time; but from the freedom of his opinions, he was obliged to withdraw himself through apprehension of the consequences, and it is said that, at this time, he produced his first play, “The Robbers.” This tragedy, though full of faults and pernicious extravagancies, was the admiration of all the youth of enthusiastic sentiments in Germany, and several students at Leipsic deserted their college, with the avowed purpose of forming a troop of banditti in the forests of Bohemia; but their first disorders brought on them a summary punishment, which restored them to their senses, and Schiller’s biographer gravely tells us, that this circumstance added to his reputation. The tragedy certainly was quite adapted to the taste of Germany, was soon translated into several foreign languages, and the author appointed to the office of dramatic composer to the theatre of Mauheim. For this he now wrote his ' Cabal and Love,“the” Conspiracy of Fiesco,“and” Don Carlos,“and published a volume of poems, which procured him a wife of good family and fortune. This lady fell in love with him from reading his works, and is said to have roused him from those habits of dissipation in which he had in* dulged, and to which he was in great danger of falling a victim. He was now patronized by the duke of Saxe- Weimar, who conferred on him the title of aulic counsellor, and nominated him to the professorship of history and philosophy at the university of Jena. He had previously written an account of the” Revolt of the Netherlands from the Spanish government,“and he now set about composing his 4< History of the thirty Years’ War in Germany,” a work which has been much admired in his own country. At length he removed to Weimar, where the pension, as honorary professor from the duke, was continued to him; and produced the “History of the most memorable Conspira cies,” and the “Ghost-Seer,” which displayed the peculiar turn of his mind, and were much read. In the latter part of his life he conducted a monthly work published at Tubingen, and an annual poetical almanac, and composed a tragedy entitled “The Maid of Orleans.” He was the author of other dramatic pieces, some of which are known, though imperfectly, in this country, through the medium of translation. He died at Weimar, May 9, 1805, and he was interred with great funeral solemnity. In his private character Schiller was friendly, candid, and sincere. In his youth he affected eccentricity in his manners and appearance, and a degree of singularity seems always to have adhered to him. In his works, brilliant strokes of genius are unquestionably to be found, but more instances of extravagant representation of passion, and violation of truth and nature. They enjoyed some degree of popularity here, during the rage for translating and adapting German plays for our theatres; and although this be abated, they have contributed to the degeneracy of dramatic taste, and have not produced the happiest effects on our poetry.

On his arrival in London, which was probably in 1586, when he was twenty -two years old, he is said to have made his first acquaintance in the play-house, to which idleness or taste may have directed him, and where his necessities, if tradition may be credited, obliged him to accept the office of call-boy, or prompter’s attendant. This is a menial, whose employment it is to give the performers notice to be ready to enter, as often as the business of the play requires their appearance on the stage. Pope, however, relates a story, communicated to him by Rowe, but which Rowe did not think deserving of a place in the life he wrote, that must a little retard the advancement of our poet to the office just mentioned. According to this story, Shakspeare’s first employment was to wait at the door of the play-house, and hold the horses of those who had no servants, that they might be ready after the performance. But “I cannot,” says his acute commentator, Mr. Steevens, “dismiss this anecdote without observing, that it seems to want every mark of probability. Though Shakspeare quitted Stratford on account of a juvenile irregularity, we have no reason to suppose that he had forfeited the protection of his father, who was engaged in a lucrative business 3 or the love of his wife, who had already brought him two children, and was herself the daughter of a substantial yeoman. It is unlikely, therefore, when he was beyond the reach of his prosecutor, that he should conceal his plan of life, or place of residence, from those who, if he found himself distressed, could not fail to afford him such supplies as would have set him above the necessity of holding horses for subsistence. Mr. Malone has remarked in his ‘Attempt to ascertain the order in which the plays of Shakspeare were written,’ that he might have found an easy introduction to the stage; for Thomas Green, a celebrated comedian of that period, was his townsman, and perhaps his relation. The genius of our author prompted him to write poetry; his connexion with a player might have given his productions a dramatic turn; or his own sagacity might have taught him that fame was not incompatible with profit, and that the theatre was an avenue to both. That it was once the general custom to ride on horse-back to the play, I am likewise yet to learn. The most popular of the theatres were on the Bank-side; and we are told by the satirical pamphleteers of that time, that the usual mode of conveyance to these places of amusement was by water, but not a single writer so much as hints at the custom of riding to them, or at the practice of having horses held during the hours of exhibition. Some allusion to this usage (if it had existed) must, I think, have been discovered in the course of our researches after contemporary fashions. Let it be remembered too, that we receive this tale on no higher authority than that of Gibber’s Lives of the Poets, vol. I. p. 130. Sir Win. Davenant told it to Mr. Betterton, who communicated it to Mr. Howe, who, according to Dr. Johnson, related it to Mr. Pope.” Mr. Malone concurs in opinion that this story stands on a very slender foundation, while he differs from Mr. Steevens as to the fact of gentlemen going to the theatre on horseback. With respect likewise to Shakspeare’s father being “engaged in a lucrative business,” we may remark, that this could not have been the case at the time our author came to London, if the preceding dates be correct. He is said to have arrived in London in 1586, the year in which his father resigned the office of alderman, unless, indeed, we are permitted to conjecture that his resignation was not the consequence of his necessities.

“If tradition may be trusted, Shakspeare often baited at the Crown inn or tavern in Oxford, in his journey to and from London. The landlady was a woman of great beauty and sprightly wit, and her husband, Mr. John Davenant, (afterwards mayor of that city) a grave melancholy man; xvho, as well as his wife, used much to delight in Shaks^ peare’s pleasant company. Their son, young Will. Davenant, (afterwards sir William) was then a little school-boy in the town, of about seven or eight years old, and so fond also of Shakspeare, that whenever he heard of his arrival, he would fly from school to see him. One day an old townsman observing the boy running homeward almost out of breath, asked him whither he was posting in that heat and hurry. He answered to see his god-father Shakspeare. `There’s a good boy,‘ said the other, ’but have a care that you don‘t take God’s name in vain.’ This story Mr. Pope told me at the earl of Oxford’s table, upon occasion of some discourse which arose about Shakspeare’s monument then newly erected in Westminster abbey.”

, an eminent English admiral, was born near Clay, in Norfolk, about 1650, of parents in middling circumstances, and put apprentice to some mechanic trade, to which he applied himself for som.e time. He is said to have early discovered an inclination for the naval service, and at length went to sea, under the protection of sir Christopher Mynns, as a cabbin-boy, and applying himself very assiduously to the study of navigation, became an able seaman, and quickly arrived at preferment. In 1674, our merchants in the Mediterranean being very much distressed by the piratical state of Tripoly, a strong squadron was sent into those parts under the command of sir John Narborough, who arrived before Tripoly in the spring of the year, and found considerable preparations for defence. Being, according to the nature of his instructions, desirous to try negotiation rather than force, he thought proper to send Shovel, now a lieutenant, to demand satisfaction for what was past, and security for the time to come. Shovel went on shore, and delivered his message with great spirit; but the Dey, despising his youth, treated him with much disrespect, and sent him back with an indefinite answer. Shovel, on his return to the admiral, acquainted him with some remarks he had made on shore. Sir John sent him back with another message, and well furnished him with proper rules for conducting his inquiries and observations. The Dey’s behaviour was worse the second time, which Shovel made a pretence for delaying his departure that he might complete his observations. On his return he assured the admiral it was very practicable to burn the ships in the harbour, notwithstanding their lines and forts: accordingly, in the night of the 4th of March, Shovel, with all the boats in the fleet, filled with combustibles, went boldly into the harbour, and destroyed the vessels in it, after which he returned safe to the fleet, without the loss of a single man; and the Tripolines were so disconcerted at the boldness and success of the attack, as immediately to sue for peace. Of this affair sir John Narborough gave so honourable account in all his letters, that the next year Shovel had the command given him of the Sapphire, a fifth rate; whence he was not long after *e* moved into the James galley, a fourth rate, in which he continued till the death of Charles II. Although he was known to be unfriendly to the arbitrary measures of James II. yet that prince continued to employ him, and he was preferred to the Dover, in which situation he was when the Revolution took place, and heartily concurred in that event. In 1689, he was in the first battle, that of Bantry-bay, in the Edgar, a third-rate; and so distinguished himself by courage and conduct, that when king William came down to Portsmouth, he conferred on him the honour of knighthood. In 1690, he was employed in conveying king YVilr liam and his army into Ireland, who was so highly pleased with his diligence and dexterity, that he did him the honour to deliver him a commission of rear-admiral of the blue with his own hand. Just before the king set out for Holland, in 1692, he made him rear-admiral of the red, at the same time appointing him commander of the squadron that was to convoy him thither. On his return, Shovel joined admiral Russell with the grand fleet, and had a share in the glory of the victory at La Hogue. When it was thought proper that the fleet should be put under command of joint admirals in the succeeding year, he was one; and, as Campbell says, “if there had been nothing more than this joint commission, we might well enough account from thence for the misfortunes which happened in our affairs at sea, during the year 1693.” The joint admirals were of different parties; but as they were all good seamen, and probably meant well to their country, though they did not agree in the manner of serving it, it is most likely, “that, upon mature consideration of the posture things were then in, the order they had received from court, and the condition of the fleet, which was not either half manned or half victualled, the admirals might agree that a cautious execution of the instructions which they had received was a method as safe for the nation, and more so for themselves, than any other they could take.” On this occasion sir Cloudesley Shovel was at first an object of popular odium; but when the affair came to be strictly investigated in parliament, he gave so clear and satisfactory an account of the matter, that it satisfied the people that the commanders were not to blame; and that if there was treachery, it must have originated in persons in office at home. The character of sir Cloude&ley remaining unimpeached, we find him. again at sea, in 1694, under lord Berkley, in the expedition to Camaret-bay, in which he distinguished himself by his dextrous embarkation of the land forces, when they sailed on that unfortunate expedition; as also when, on their return to England, it was deemed necessary to send the fleet again upon the coast of France, to bombard Dieppe, and other places. In 1702 he was sent to bring the spoils of the Spanish and French fleets from Vigo, after the capture of that place by sir George Rooke. In 1703, he commanded the grand fleet up the Streights; where he protected our trade, and did all that was possible to be done for the relief of the protestants then in arms in the Cevenues; and countenanced such of the Italian powers as were inclined to favour the allies. In 1704 he was sent, with a powerful squadron, to join sir George liooke, who commanded a grand fleet in the Mediterranean, and had his share in the action off Malaga. Upon his return he was presented to the queen by prince George, as lord high admiral, and met with a very gracious reception; and was next year employed as commander in chief. In 1705, when k was thought necessary to send both a fleet and army to Spain, sir Cloudesley accepted the command of the fleet jointly with the earls of Peterborough and Monmouth, which sailed to Lisbon, thence to Catalonia, and arrived before Barcelona on the 12th of August and it was chiefly through his activity, in furnishing guns for the batteries, and men ta play them, and assisting with his advice, that the place was taken.

, a strenuous champion for repub-­lican government, who set up Marcus Brutus for his pattern, and died like him in the cause of liberty, was second son of Robert, earl of Leicester, by Dorothy, eldest daughter of Henry Percy, earl of Northumberland; and was born about 1617, or as some say, 1622. Of his education, and how he spent the younger part of his life, we know little. It appears that his father, when he went as ambassador to Denmark in 1632, took him with him, when a mere boy, and again in 1636, when he went as ambassador to France. During the rebellion he adhered to the interest of the parliament, in whose army he was a colonel; and was nominated one of the king’s judges, and as some say, sat on the bench, but was not present when sentence was passed, nor: did he sign the warrant for his execution. His admirers, however, assure us that he was far from disapproving of that atrocious act. He was in truth such a zealous republican, that he became a violent enemy to Cromwell, after “he had made himself protector. In June 1659 he was appointed, by the council of state, to go with sir Robert Houeywood, and Bulstrode Whitelocke, esq. commissioners to the Sound, to mediate a peace between the kings of Sweden and Denmark: but Whitelocke observes, that himself was unwilling to undertake that service,” especially,“says he,” to be joined with those that would expect precedency of me, who had been formerly ambassador extraordinary to Sweden alone; and I knew well the over-ruling temper and height of colonel Sidney. I therefore endeavoured to excuse myself, by reason of my old age and infirmities; but the council pressed it upon me:" which at last he evaded. While Sidney was at the court of Denmark, M. Terlon, the French ambassador there, had the 1 confidence to tear out of the university Album this verse; which the colonel, when it was presented to him, had written in it

, called L‘Abate Ciccio, from his mode of dressing like an abbot, an illustrious Italian painter, was descended of a good family, and born at Nocera de’ Pagani near Naples in 1657. His father Angelo, who had been a scholar of Massimo, and was a good painter and a man of learning, discerned an uncommon genius in his son; who is said to have spent whole nights in the studies of poetry and philosophy. He designed also so judiciously in chiaro obscure, tiiat his performances surprised all who saw them. Angelo intended him for the Jaw, and did not alter his purpose, though he was informed of his other extraordinary talents, till cardinal Orsini advised him. This cardinal, afterwards Benedict Xiji. at a visit happened to examine the youth in philosophy, and, although satisfied with his answers, observed, that he would do better, if he did not waste so much of his time in drawing; but when these drawings were produced, he was so surprised, that he told the father how unjust he would be both to his son and to the art, if he attempted to check a genius so manifestly displayed. Ou this, Solimene had full liberty given him to follow his inclination. Two years passed on, while he studied under his lather, after which, in 1674, he went to Naples, and put himself under the direction of Francesco di Maria. Thinking, however, that this artist laid too great a stress on design, he soon left him, and guided himself by the works of Lanfranc and Calabrese in composition and chiaro obscuro, while those of Pietro Cortona and Luca Jordano were his standards for colouring, and Guido and Carlo Maratti for drapery. By an accurate and well-managed study of these masters, he formed to himself an excellent style, and soon distinguished himself as a painter. Hearing that the Jesuits intended to paint the chapel of St. Anne in the church Jesu Nuovo, he sent them a sketch by an architecture painter; not daring to carry it himself, lest a prejudice against his youth might exclude him. His design was nevertheless accepted, and, while he was employed on this chapel, the best painters of Naples visited him, astonished to h'nd themselves surpassed by a mere boy. This was his first moment of distinction, and his reputation increased so fast, that great works were offered him from every quarter. His fame extending to other countries, the kings of France and Spain made him very advantageous proposals to engage him in their service, all which he declined. Philip V. arriving at Naples, commanded him to paint his portrait, and allowed him to sit in his presence: and the emperor Charles VI. knighted him on account of a picture he sent him. In 1701, he resided at Rome during the holy year: when the pope and cardinals took great notice of him. This painter is also known by his sonnets, which have been often printed in collections of poetry; and, at eighty years of age, he could repeat from memory the most beautiful passages of the poets, in the application of which he was very happy. He died in 1747, at almost ninety. He painted entirely after nature; being fearful, as he said, that too servile an attachment to the antique might damp the fire of his imagination. He was a man of a good temper, who neither criticised the works of others out of envy, nor was blind to his own defects. He told the Italian author of his life, that he had advanced many falsities in extolling the character of his works: which had procured him a great deal of money, but yet were very far short of perfection. The grand duke of Tuscany with difficulty prevailed on Solimene’s modesty to send him his picture, which he wanted to place in his gallery among other painters.

, an eminent printer, and many years printer to his majesty, was born at Edinburgh in 1715. His father, who had a small appointment in the customs, gave his son the education which every boy of decent rank then received in a country where the avenues to learning were easy, and open to men of the most moderate circumstances. After having passed through the tuition of a grammar-school, he was put apprentice to a printer; and, when a very young man, went to follow his trade in London. Sober, diligent, and attentive, while his emoluments were for some time very scanty, he contrived to live rather within than beyond his income; and though he married early, and without such a provision as prudence might have looked for in the establishment of a family, he continued to thrive, and to better his circumstances. His abilities in his profession, accompanied with perfect integrity, and unabating diligence, enabled him, after the first difficulties were overcome, to proceed with rapid success. He was one of the most flourishing men in the trade, when, in 1770, he purchased a share of the patent for king’s printer, of Mr. Eyre, with whom he maintained the most cordial intimacy during all the rest of his life. Besides the emoluments arising from this appointment, as well as from a very extensive private business, he was eminently successful in the purchase of the copy-rights of some of the most celebrated authors of the time. In this his liberality kept equal pace with his prudence, and in some cases went perhaps rather beyond it. Never had such rewards been given to the labours of literary men, as were now received from him and his associates (See Cadell) in those purchases of copy-rights from authors.

, a celebrated architect and lover of classical antiquity, was born in London, in 1713. His parents resided in Creed-lane, Ludgate-street. His father, who was a mariner, was a native of Scotland, and his mother of Wales. Their circumstances were very narrow; but they were honest and worthy people, and gave their son the best education in their power. Mr. Stuart, who was the eldest of four children, was left utterly unprovided for when his father died. He exhibited, however, at a very early period of life, the dawnings of a strong imagination, splendid talents, and an ardent thirst for knowledge. By whom he was educated we have no account; but drawing and painting were his earliest occupations; and these he pursued with such industry and perseverance, that, while yet a boy, he contributed very essentially to the support of his widowed mother and her little family, by designing and painting fans for a person in the Strand. He placed one of his sisters under the care of this person as his shop-woman; and he continued, for many years, to pursue the same mode of maintaining the rest of his family. Notwithstanding the great pressure of such a charge, and the many temptations to dissipation, which are too apt to attract a young man of lively genius and extensive talents, Mr. Stuart employed the greatest part of his time in such studies as tended to perfect himself in the art he loved. He acquired a very accurate knowledge of anatomy; he became a correct draughtsman, and rendered himself master of geometry, and all the branches of the mathematics, so necessary to form the mind of a good painter: and it is no less extraordinary than true, that necessity and application were his only instructors. He has often confessed, that he was first led into the obligation of studying the Latin language, by a desire to understand what was written under prints, published after pictures of the ancient masters.

Mr. Stuart was twice married; first in 1760, to his housekeeper, a very worthy woman, by whom he had a son, who died an infant; his second wife, who survived him, was the daughter of Mr. Blackstone, a farmer in Kent; and to this lady, who was very young, he was united at the age of sixty-seven. By her he had four children; one of whom— a boy—was the very image and transcript of himself, both in body and mind. He exhibited an astonishing genius for drawing, even before he was three years old, and would imitate with pen, or pencil, any thing that he saw lying on his father’s table. This child (the darling of his father) died of the small-pox toward the end of 1787. Mr. Stuart’s health was observed to decline very rapidly from that time. He expired, at his house, in Leicester-square, on the 2d of February, 1788, in the seventy-sixth year of his age, and and was buried in a vault of the church of St. Martin’s in the Fields. Two volumes of his great work, “The Antiquities of Athens,” have been published since his death; the 2d in 1790, the 3d in 1794: the former by Mr. Newton, the latter by Mr. Revely. A fourth volume, containing a great many plates, has just been published under the superintendance of Mr. Taylor, of the architectural library, Holborn.

, an English writer of uncommon parts and learning, and very celebrated in his day, was born at Partney, near Spilsbye in Lincolnshire, Feb. 28, 1631. His father was a minister, and lived at Spilsbye; but being inclined to be an anabaptist, and forced to leave that place, he went with his wife and children into Ireland. Upon the breaking out of the rebellion there in 1641, the mother fled with her son Henry into England; and, landing at Liverpool, went on foot from thence to London, where she gained a comfortable subsistence by her needle, and sent her son Henry, being then ten years of age, to Westminster- school. There Dr. Busby, the master, was so struck with the surprising parts of the boy, that he shewed him more than ordinary favour; and recommended him to the notice of sir Henry Vane, junior, who one day came accidentally into the school. Sir Henry took a fancy to him, and frequently relieved him with money, and gave him the liberty of resorting to his house, “to fill that belly,” says Stubbe, “which otherwise had no sustenance but what one penny could purchase for his dinner, and which had no breakfast except he got it by making somebody’s exercise.” He says this in the preface to his “Epistolary Discourse concerning Phlebotomy;” where many other particulars of his life, mentioned by Mr. Wood, and here recorded, are also to be found. Soon after he was admitted on the foundation, and his master, in consideration of his great progress in learning, gave him additional assistance in books and other necessaries.

, an eminent naturalist and anatomist, was born at Amsterdam in 1637, where his father was an apothecary, and had a museum of natural history. He intended his son for the church, and with this view gave him a classical education, but the boy prevailed upon him to let him apply to physic. He was therefore kept at home, till he should be prpperly qualified to engage in that study, and frequently employed in cleaning, and arranging the articles of his father’s collection. From this occupation he acquired a taste for natural history, and soon began to form a museum of his own. Entomology having particularly struck his fancy, be became indefatigable in discovering, catching, and examining, the flying insects, not only in the province of Holland, but in those of Gueldreland and Utrecht. In 1661 he went to Leydeu, to pursue his studies, which he did with so much success, that, in 1663, he was admitted a candidate of physic, after undergoing the examinations prescribed on that occasion. On his arrival at Leyden, he contracted a friendship with the great anatomist Nicolas Steno, and ever after lived with him in intimacy.

He was, in 1597, a candidate for the office of secretary to the company of merchant adventurers at Stade, of which he was a member; on which occasion the unfortunate earl of Essex interested himself in his favour, and wrote two letters in his behalf, dated from the court on the last of April; a private one to Mr. Ferrers, the deputy-governor, recommending Mr. Sylvester as an able and honest man; and a general one to the company, to the same purpose, in which he mentions that he had received a very good report of his sufficiency and fitness for the post of secretary, being both well qualified with language, and many other good parts, and honest and of good conversation; two especial motives of his lordship’s request in his behalf. Sylvester’s translation of Du Bartas is dedicated to king James;^nd among those who pay him the highest compliments appears Ben Jonson, whom tradition makes an intimate friend, and, as some think, a relation. He translated also the Quatrains of Pibrac, and many other pieces of French poetry; with some from the Latin of Fracastorius, &c. One of his own pieces has the ridiculously quaint title of “Tobacco battered, and the pipes shattered, (about their ears that idlely idolize so base and barbarous a weed; or at least-wise over-love so loathsome a vanitie:) by a volley of holy shot thundered from mount Helicon.” This may be supposed to have been written to please the great enemy of tobacco, James I. Not much can now be said in favour of his compositions, either the translations, or those that are original, although he gained greater reputation from the former than the latter. Dryden tells us, in the Dedication to the Spanish Fryar, that tf when he was a boy, he thought inimitable Spenser a mean poet, in comparison of Sylvester’s Dubartas," and ^ was wrapt into an ecstacy when he read these lines

, an eminent German critic, was born at Wonscisch in Franconia, about 1565. His father, who was a tradesman of the lower order, died while Taubman was a child, and his mother married a taylor, who, however, had sense enough to discern the boy’s capacity, and resolved to bring him up to letters. For that purpose he sent him to Culmbach, a town of Franconia, to school, where he remained until he was sixteen years of age, and made an uncommon progress in literature. The circumstances of his parents, however, were so very indifferent, *hat they were unable to furnish him with much, and it is said that he was frequently constrained to beg his bread from door to door. While he was at this school his mother died, and his father-in-law married another wife, who proved very kind to one now become an orphan in every way.

, an excellent engraver, was born in 1758, at Pattrington, in Holderness, in the East Riding of York, where his father was an innkeeper. At a proper age he was placed as an apprentice to a cooper, at which business, on the expiration of his apprenticeship, he worked some time. During the American war he became a private in ifie Northumberland militia; at the conclusion of which, in 1783, he came to settle at Hull, where he commenced engraver of shop-bills, cards, &c. One of his fust attempts was a card for a tinner and brazier, executed in a very humble style. He engraved and published a plan of Hull, which is dated May 6, 1784, and afterwards solicited subscriptions for two views of the dock at that place, which, it is thought, he shortly after published. He also engraved, while there, a head of Harry Rowe, the famous puppet-showman of York, after a drawing by J. England. Another account says, that an engraving of an old woman’s head, after Gerard Dow, was his first attempt, and appeared so extraordinary, that on the recommendation of the hon. Charles Fox, the duchess of Devonshire, and lady Duncannon, he was appointed historical engraver to the prince of Wales. In 1788, the marquis of Carmarthen, whose patronage he first obtained by constructing a very curious camera obscura, wrote him a recommendatory lelter to Alderman Boy dell, who immediately offered him 300 guineas to engrave a plate from Northcote’s picture of Edward V. taking leave of his brother the duke of York. He afterwards engraved, for Boydell, a number of capital plates from the Shakespeare gallery,and from the paintings by sir Joshua Reynolds, Shee, Westall, Smirke, Fuseli, Northcote, Peters, &c. all which are very extraordinary specimens of graphic excellence, and have been highly and deservedly approved by the connoisseur, and well received by the public. Of Boydell’s Shakspeare, nineteen of the large plates are from his hand. He had received very little instruction, but depended solely on native genius, aided by an intense application, by which \\e suddenly arrived at great excellence in the art. Almost at the outset of his career he became connected with Messrs. Boydell by extensive engagements on their Shakspeare, a work which will long bear ample testimony to his rare merit and talents. The distinguishing characteristics of his practice consisted in most faithfully exhibiting the true spirit and style of each master; a most minute accuracy, a certain polish, and exquisite delicacy of manner; with the appropriate character given to all objects, while a mildness of tone and perfect harmony pervaded the whole piece. The Cardinal Wolsey entering Leicester Abbey, from Westall, is certainly the greatest effort of his skill, and is, by many of the bestinformed connoisseurs and artists, held to be a first-rate specimen in that style of engraving. This ingenious artist died in July 1802, at Stevenage in Hertfordshire.

, an illustrious historian of France, was son of a first president of the parliament of Paris, and born there the 9th of October, 1553. He was so exceedingly weak and infirm in his infancy, that there was no hope of rearing him for the first five years of his life; and to this it is owing, that abundantly more care was taken to preserve his body, than to cultivate his mind, although he then appeared to be a boy of uncommon talents; for he was not addicted to the amusements of childhood, but aimed at something higher, and would divert himself with drawing and painting, for which he had always a very good taste. When he was ten years old, he was put to books, and placed in the college of Bourgogne; but in less than a year he was attacked with a violent fever, and taken home. The physicians gave him over for many months; but he recovered, and applied again to books, though with great moderation; for hie constitution was not able to* undergo the least fatigue. He was afterwards placed under the care of private tutors \ and regard seems to have been had, in the choice of them, to the weakness of his nature, as well as to the improvement of his understanding; for they were physicians, and successively four of them. Then he studied under the famous Dionysius Lambinus, and Joannes Pellerinus, who was professor of the Greek language in the College-royal.

His life, like his studies, was drawn after the model of the ancient sages. Frugal, temperate, modest, he exhibited a striking contrast to the luxurious manners of his age. In religion he adhered strictly, though not superstitiously, to the opinions of his ancestors. He was firm in his resolutions, but not foolishly obstinate: and so strict an observer of equity, that his probity would have remained inviolate, even though there had been no law to bind him to justice. He never married, that he might have leisure to devote himself, with less interruption, to his favourite studies. Every one readily found admission to him, and no man left him without being both pleased and instructed; such was the sweetness of his temper, and the readiness with which he communicated information. He adhered with great constancy to his friendships. This was particularly exemplified in the case of Clemens Sibiliati, whose life of him is prefixed to the Oxford edition of his Archimedes; with him he kept up the closest connection from a school boy to the day of his death. He was peculiarly attached likewise to many men of distinction, both in Italy and Britain, the late earl Stanhope, earl Mansfield, John Strange, esq. &c. Torelli died August 18, 1781, in the sixtieth year of his age.

, a political and miscellaneous writer, was born in Southwark, March 31, 1737, where his father was a dealer in second-hand books, the easy access to which gave his son a taste for reading, and enabled him at an early period of life to accumulate a fund of useful knowledge. He appears to have had no regular education, for when scarcely twelve years old, he was placed, as an errand boy, in the shop of a stationer under the Royal Exchange. With him he remained some years, until in 3754, he was bound apprentice to Mr. Robert Goadby, printer at Sherborne in Dorsetshire. During his first years here, he applied at his leisure hours to the Latin and Greek languages, and acquired a competent knowledge of both, and by carefully perusing the best books in other branches of learning, he very successfully supplied the want of a regular education, although he never could be reckoned a profound scholar in any pursuit.

, an English poet of the sixteenth century, and styled the British Varro, was born, as it is supposed, about the year 1515, at Rivenhall near Witham in Essex. His father, William Tusser, married a daughter of Thomas Smith, of Rivenhall, esq. by whom he had five sons and four daughters; and this match appears to have been the chief foundation of “the gentility of his family,” for which he refers his readers to “the Heralds’ book.” The name and race, however, have long been extinct. At an early age, much against his will, he was sent by his father to a music-school; and was soon placed as a chorister or singing-boy in the collegiate chapel of the castle of Wallingford; and after some hardships, of which he complains, and frequent change of place, he was at length admitted into St. Paul’s, where he arrived at considerable proficiency in music, under John Redford, the organist of that cathedral, a man distinguished for his attainments in the science. From St. Paul’s he was sent to Eton school, and was some time under the tuition of the famous Nicholas Udall, of whose severity he complains, in giving him fiftythree stripes at once for a trifling fault. Hence he was removed to Cambridge, and, according to some, was first entered of King’s college, and afterwards removed to Trinity hall; but his studies being interrupted by sickness, he left the university, and was employed about court, probably in his musical capacity, by the influence of his patron, William lord Paget. He appears to have been a retainer in this nobleman’s family, and he mentions his lordship in the highest terms of panegyric.

, a miscellaneous writer of considerable talents, was one of the two sons of Mr. Jonathan Tyers, the original embellisher of Vauxhall gardens, of which he was himself a joint proprietor till the end of the season of 1785, when he sold his share to his brother’s family. He was born in 1726, and being intended for one of the learned professions, was sent very early in life to the university of Oxford, where he entered of Exeter college, and was so young when he took his bachelor’s degree that he was called the boy bachelor. That of master of arts he completed in April 1745, when he was only nineteen. In 1753 he was admitted a student of the Inner Temple, and became, after he had kept his terms, a barrister in that house; but he tells us that, although his father hoped he would apply to the law, take notes, and make a figure in Westminster-hall, he never undertook any causes, nor went a single circuit. He loved his ease too much to acquire a character in that or any other profession. It is said that the character of Tom Restless (in the Idler, N 8 48) was intended by Dr. Johnson for Mr. Tyers, but he was certainly a man of superior cast to the person described under that name. It could not be said of Mr. Tyers that he sought wisdom more in conversation than in his library, for few men read more, and he was heard to say, not long before his death, that for the last forty years, he had not been a single day, when in health, without a book or a pen in his hand, “nulla dies sine linea.”

Thomas Tyrwhitt, the subject of the present article, the eldest son of Dr. Tyrwhitt, was born March 29, 1730, and had his first education at a school at Kensington, to which he was sent in his sixth year. In 1741 he removed to Eton. Here, as well as afterwards, he manifested the strongest propensities tp literature, at an age when other boys are employed, every moment they can steal from books, in pursuit of pleasure. But Mr. Tyrwhitt, it has been justly said, never was a boy, his calm and contemplative disposition always leading him to manly and scholar-like studies. After a residence of six years at Eton, he was entered of Queen’s college, Oxford, in 1747, and took the degree of bachelor of arts in 1750. He removed to Merton college, in consequence of being elected to a fellowship in 1755, and the following year took his degree of M.A. He remained on his fellowship until 1762, when he left the university, carrying with him an extensive fund of various knowledge, to which he afterwards added by most unwearied application.

Having continued five years under these excellent masters, of whom he ever afterwards spoke with honour, and having made a progress far beyond his age, he was admitted into the college of Dublin, which was finished that very year, 1593. He was one of the first three students who were admitted; and his name stands to this day in the first line of the roll. Dr. Bernard seems to hint that he was the first graduate, fellow, and proctor, which we doubt, at least as to the fellowship, his uncle being first fellow, and his tutor at this time senior fellow, according to Harris. Here he learned logic, and the philosophy of Aristotle, under Mr. Hamilton, his tutor, and though, as we are told, his love of poetry and cards retarded his studies for some time, yet he soon recovered himself from these habits, applied to books again with great vigour, and at the same time acquired that pious turn which was ever afterwards a distinguishing; feature in his character. He is said to hare been wonderfully affected with that passage in Cicero, “Nescire quid antea quam natus sis accident, id est semper esse puerum” that is, “to know nothing of what happened before you were born is to be always a boy.” About this time, from meeting with Sleidan’s little book “De quatuor imperiis,” he contracted an extreme fondness for the study of history, which he afterwards pursued with equal depth and preciseness. At fourteen years of age he began to make extracts from all the historical books he could meet with, in order to fix the facts more firmly in his memory; and, between fifteen or sixteen, he had made such a proficiency in chronology, that he had drawn up in Latin an exact chronicle of the Bible, as far as the book of Kings, not much differing from his “Annals,” which have since been published. The difference chiefly consists in the addition of observations and the parallel chronofcugy of the heathens. Before he was full sixteen, he had entered upon theological studies, and perused the most able writers, on both sides, on the Romish controversy. Among the Romanists, he read Stapleton’s “Fortress of Faith;” and, finding that author confident in asserting antiquity for the tenets of Popery, and in taxing our church with novelty in. what it dissented from theirs, he kept his mind in suspense, till he could examine how the truth stood in that particular. He took it for granted, as his historian says, that the ancient doctrines must needs be the right, as the nearer the fountain the purer the stream; and that errors sprang up as the ages succeeded, according to that known saying of Tertullian, “Verum quodcunque primum, adulterum quodcunque posterius.” Bishop Jewel had adopted the same principle before him; and too much deference to the authority of the fathers prevailed in their days and long after. Yet they were far from being ignorant, as has been absurdly imputed to them, that the question concerning doctrines is not how ancient, but how true those doctrines are. The dispute was purely historical. Stapleton quoted the fathers as holding the doctrines of popery. Usher thought this impossible, and rather believed that Stapleton had misquoted them, at least had wrested and tortured them to his own sense. This made him then take up a firm resolution, that in due time (if God gave him life) he would himself read all the fathers, and trust none but his own eyes in searching out their sense: which great work he afterwards began at twenty years of age, and finished at thirty-eight; strictly confining himself to read a certain portion every day, from which he suffered no occasion to divert him.

Being now settled to his liking, and freed from worldly connexions and cares, he devoted himself entirely to the pursuit of every species of literature, human and divine; He was admitted fellow of the college, and acknowledged to be a model of piety, modesty, and learning. About this time, the learned Jesuit Fitz-simons (See Fitz-Simons), then a prisoner in Dublin-castle, sent out a challenge , defying the ablest champion that should come against him, to dispute with him about the points in controversy between the Roman and the Protestant churches. Usher, though but in his nineteenth year, accepted the challenge; and when they met, the Jesuit despised him as but a boy; yet, after a conference or two, was so very sensible of the quickness of his wit, the strength of his arguments, and his skill in disputation, as to decline any farther contest with him. This appears from the following letter of Usher, which Dr. Parr has inserted in his life; and which serves also to confute those who have supposed that there was not any actual dispute between them. “I was not purposed, Mr. Fitz-simons, to write unto you, before you had first written to me, concerning some chief points of your religion, as at our last meeting you promised; s but, seeing you have deferred the same, for reasons best known to yourself, I thought it not amiss to inquire farther of your mind, concerning the continuation of the conference begun betwixt us. And to this I am the rather moved, because I am credibly informed of certain reports, which I could hardly be persuaded should proceed from him, who in my presence pretended so great love and affection unto me. If I am a boy, as it hath pleased you very contemptuously to name me, I give thanks to the Lord, that my carriage towards you hath been such as could minister unto you no just occasion to despise my youth. Your spear belike is in your own conceit a weaver’s beam, and your abilities such, that you desire to encounter with the stoutest champion in the host of Israel; and therefore, like the Philistine, you contemn me as being a boy. Yet this I would fain have you know, that I neither came then, nor now do come unto you, in any confidence of any learning that is in me; in which respect, notwithstanding, I thank God I am what I am: but I come in the name of the Lord of Hosts, whose companies you have reproached, being certainly persuaded, that even out of the mouths of babes and sucklings he was able to shew forth his own praises. For the farther manifestation thereof, I do again earnestly request you, that, setting aside all vain comparisons of persons, we may go plainly forward in examining the matters that rest in controversy between us; otherwise I hope you will not be displeased, if, as for your part you have begun, so 1 also for my own part may be bold, for the clearing of myself and the truth which I profess, freely to make known what hath already passed concerning this matter. Thus intreating you in a few lines to make known unto me your purpose in this behalf, I end; praying the Lord, that both this and all other enterprises that we take in hand may be so ordered as may most make for the advancement of his own glory and the kingdom of his son Jesus Christ.” Tuus ad Aras usque,

, an Italian historian, poet, and critic, was born at- Florence in 1502. His father, a lawyer, placed him with a master, who reported that he was not fit for literature, and advised him to breed the boy up to merchandise. He was accordingly sent to a counting-­house, and there his masters discovered that he never was without a book, and minded nothing but reading. His father then, after examining him, found that he had been deceived by the school-master, and determined to give his son a learned education, and for that purpose sent him to Padua and Pisa. Unfortunately, however, he prescribed the study of the law, which Varchi relished as little as commerce; and although, out of filial respect, he went through the usual courses, he immediately, on his father’s death, relinquished both the study and practice of the law, and determined to devote all his attention to polite literature. In this he acquired great reputation; but when Florence became distracted by civil commotions, he joined the party in opposition to the Medici family, and was banished. During his exile he resided at Venice, Padua, and Bologna, where his talents procured him many friends; and his works having diffused his reputation more widely, Cosmo de Medicis had the generosity to forgive the hostility he had shewn to his family, and, respecting him as a man of letters, recalled him home, and appointed him his historiographer. In this capacity he recommended him to write the history of the late revolutions in Florence. All this kindness, accompanied with a handsome pension, produced a great change in the mind of the republican Varchi, who became now the equally zealous advocate of monarchy. As soon as he had finished a part of it, he submitted it to the inspection of his patron, and some copies were taken of it. These being seen by soma persons who suspected that he would make free with their characters, or the characters of their friends, they conspired to assassinate the apostate author, as they thought him; and having one night attacked him, left him weltering in his blood, but his wounds were not mortal; and although it is said he knew who the assassins were, he declined appearing against them. He was, however, so much affected by the affair, that he embraced the ecclesiastical profession, and obtained some preferment. He died at Florence in 1565. His history, which extends from 1527 to 1538, was not published until 1721, at Cologne, and reprinted at Leydeu 1723; but both these places are wrong, as both editions were published in Italy. There is a recent edition, Milan, 1803, 5 vols. 8vo. The style, like that of all his works, is pure and elegant, though a little too much elaborated. The facts, of course, are strongly tinctured with an attachment to the house of Medici.

But neither his amusements nor his studies were ever suffered to interfere with his public or professional duties. In the church, in the school^ among his parishioners, or among his boys, he was always active and assiduous: fully prepared for the task of the day, whether to preach or teach; to illustrate the classics, or expound the Scriptures. His mode of instructing the boys on the foundation at Westminster, is admirably described by a well-informed writer in the Gent. Mag. 1815. “The under-master,” he says, “has the care of the college; and in his hands are the preservation of its discipline, the guardianship of its morals, and the charge of its religious instruction. With a steadiness and fidelity rarely equalled Dr. Vincent discharged these difficult functions; but perhaps there never existed a man who rivalled him in the art of attracting from boys attention to his lectures. Four times a year, each week preparatory to receiving the sacrament, Dr. V. explained the nature of that religious rite; its institution, its importance, and its benefits. And we believe, such was his happy mode of imparting instruction, that there never was known an instance of any boy treating the disquisition with levity, or not shewing an eagerness to be present at, and to profit by, the lesson. A clear sonorous voice, a fluent, easy, yet correct delivery, an expression at once familiar and impressive, rendered him a delightful speaker. These advantages he possessed in common conversation, but he displayed them more especially on. public occasions, and never to greater advantage than in the pulpit.”

, the greatest literary character which France produced in the last century, was born at Paris, February 20, 1694. His father, Francis Arouet, was “ancien notaire du Chatelet,” and treasurer of the chamber of accounts; his mother, MaryMargaret Daumart. At the birth of this extraordinary man, who lived to the age of eighty-five years and some months, there was little probability of his being ‘reared, and for a considerable time he continued remarkably feeble. In his earliest years he displayed a ready wit and a sprightly imagination: and, as he said of himself, made verses before he was out of his cradle. He was educated under Father Por6, in the college of Louis the Great; and such was his proficiency, that many of his essays are now existing, which, though written when he was between twelve and fourteen, shew no marks of infancy. The famous Ninon de l’Enclos, to whom this ingenious boy was introduced, left him a legacy of 2000 livres to buy him a library. Having been sent to the equity-schools on his quitting college, he was so disgusted with the dryness of the law, that he devoted himself entirely to the Muses. He was admitted into the company of the abb< Chaulieu, the marquis de la Fare, the duke de Sully, the grand prior of Vendo;ne, marshal Villars, and the chevalier du Bouillon; and caught from them that easy taste and delicate humour which distinguished the court of Louis XIV. Voltaire had early imbibed a turn for satire; and, for some philippics against the government, was imprisoned almost a year in the Bastile. He had before this period produced the tragedy of “Oedipus,” which was represented in 1718 with great success; and the duke of Orleans, happening to see it performed, was so delighted, that he obtained his release from prison. The poet waiting on the duke to return thanks: “Be wise,” said the duke, “and I will take care of you.” “I am infinitely obliged,” replied the young man; “but I intreat your royal highness not to trouble yourself any farther about my lodging or board.” His father, whose ardent wish it was that the son should have been an advocate, was present at one of the representations of the new tragedy: he was affected, even to tears, embraced his son amidst the felicitations of the ladies of the court, and never more, from that time, expressed a wish that he should become a lawyer. About 1720, he went to Brussels with Madam de Rupelmonde. The celebrated Rousseau being then in that city, the two poets met, and soon conceived an unconquerable aversion for each other. Voltaire said one day to Rousseau, who was shewing him “An Ode to Posterity,” “This is a letter which will never reach the place of its address.” Another time, Voltaire, having read a satire which Rousseau thought very indifferent, was advised to suppress it, lest it should be imagined that he “had lost his abilities, and preserved only his virulence.” Such mutual reproaches soon inflamed two hearts already sufficiently estranged. Voltaire, on his return to Paris, produced, in 1722, his tragedy of “Mariamne,” without success. His “Artemira” had experienced the same fate in 1720, though it had charmed the discerning by the excellence of the poetry. These mortifications, joined to those which were occasioned by his principles of imprudence, his sentiments on religion, and the warmth of his temper, induced him to visit England, where he printed his “Henriade.” King George I. and particularly the princess of Wales (afterwards queen Caroline) distinguished him by their protection, and obtained for him a great number of subscriptions. This laid the foundation of a fortune, which was afterwards considerably increased by the sale of his writings, by the munificence of princes, by commerce, by a habit of regularity, and by an ceconomy bordering on avarice, which he did not shake off till near the end of his life. On his return to France, in 1728, he placed the money he carried with him from England into a lottery established by M. Desforts, comptroller-general of the finances; he engaged deeply, and was successful. The speculations of finance, however, did not check his attachment to the belles lettres, his darling passion. In 1730, he published “Brutus,” the most nervous of all his tragedies, which was more applauded by the judges of good writing than by the spectators. The first wits of the time, Fontenelle, La Motte, and others, advised him to give up the drama, as not being his proper forte. He answered them by publishing “Zara,” the most affecting, perhaps, of all his tragedies. His “Lettres Philosophiques,” abounding in bold expressions and indecent witticisms against religion, having been burnt by a decree of the parliament of Paris, and a warrant being issued for apprehending the author in 1733, Voltaire very prudently withdrew; and was sheltered by the marchioness du Chatelet, in her castle of Cirey, on the borders of Champagne and Lorraine, who entered with him on the study of the “System” of Leibnitz, and the “Principia” of Newton. A gallery was built, in which Voltaire formed a good collection of natural history, and made a great many experiments on light and electricity. He laboured in the mean time on his “Elements of the Newtonian Philosophy,” then totally unknown in France, and which the numerous admirers of Des Cartes were very little desirous should be known. In the midst of these philosophic pursuits, he produced the tragedy of “Alzira.” He was now in the meridian of his age and genius, as was evident from the tragedy of “Mahomet,” first acted in, 174-1 but it was represented to the “procureur general” as a performance offensive to religion and the author, by order of cardinal Fleury, withdrew it from the stage. “Merope,” played two years after, 1743, gave an idea of a species of tragedy, of which few models have existed. It was at the representation of this tragedy that the pit and boxes were clamorous for a sight of the author; yet it was severely criticised when it came from the press. He now became a favourite at court, through the interest of madam d'Etoile, afterwards marchioness of Pompadour. Being employed in preparing the festivities that were celebrated on the marriage of the dauphin, he attained additional honours by composing “The Princess of Navarre.” He was appointed a gentleman of the bed-chamber in ordinary, and historiographer of France. The latter office had, till his time, been almost a sinecure; but Voltaire, who had written, under the direction of the count d'Argenson, the “History of the War of 1741,” was employed by that minister in many important negociations from 1745 to 1747; the project of invading England in 1746 was attributed to him and he drew up the king ofFrance’s manifesto in favour of the pretender. He had frequently attempted to gain admittance into the academy of sciences, but could not obtain his wish till 1746 , when he was the first who broke through the absurd custom of filling an inaugural speech with the fulsome adulation of Richelieu; an example soon followed by other academicians. From, the satires occasioned by this innovation he felt so much uneasiness, that he was glad to retire with the marchioness du Chateletto Luneville, in the neighbourhood of king Stanislaus. The marchioness dying in 1749, Voltaire returned to Paris, where his stay was but short* Though he had many admirers, he was perpetually complaining of a cabal combined to filch from him that glory of which he was insatiable. “The jealousy and manoeuvres of a court,” he would say, “are the subject of conversation; there is more of them among the literati.” His friends and relations endeavoured in vain to relieve his anxiety, by lavishing commendations on him, and by exaggerating his success. He imagined he should find in a foreign country a greater degree of applause, tranquillity, and reward, and augment at the same time both his fortune and reputation, which were already very considerable. The king of Prussia, who had repeatedly invited him to his court, and who would have given any thing to have got him away from Silesia, attached him at last to his person by a pension of 22,000 livres, and the hope of farther favour . From the particular respect that was paid to him, his time was now spent in the most agreeable manner; his apartments were under those of the king, whom he was allowed to visit at stated hours, to read with him the best works of either ancient or modern authors, and to assist his majesty in the literary productions by which he relieved the cares of government. But this happiness was soon at an end; and Voltaire saw, to his mortification, when it was too late, that, where a man is sufficiently rich to be master of himself, neither his liberty, his family, nor his country, should be sacrificed for a pension. A dispute which our poet had with Manpertuis, the president of the academy at Berlin, was followed by disgrace . It has been said that the king of Prussia dismissed him with this reproof: “I do not drive you away, because I called you hither; I do not take away your pension, because I have given it to you; I only forbid you my presence.” Not a word of this is true; the fact is, that he sent to the king the key of his office as chamberlain, and the cross of the order of merit, with these verses:

“That he was strictly and enthusiastically honest, ought, we think, to be allowed, in the fullest sense of the terms; and his mind, naturally ardent, soon became so enamoured with this consciousness (which is undoubtedly, to a mind capable of relishing it, abundantly delightful) that he seems to have acquired even a passion for privations; as witnessing to himself an integrity which could cheerfully sacrifice inclination to conviction. These feelings, added to his pride of independent thinking, led him, we doubt not, to abstain from wine; to have relinquished in part, and to be tending entirely to give up, the use of animal food; with various other instances of peculiarity. Not even the Creator, who ordained that animals should afford sustenance to each other, could obtain credit with him, against his private opinions: nor would he see even the obvious truth, that if the use of animal food were abandoned, a small number would be produced, to die by miserable decay, while whole classes and genera would gradually become extinct. In all things it was the same with G. W. Whatever coincided not with his ideas of rectitude, justice., elegance, or whatever else it might be, was to give way at once, and be rescinded at his pleasure, on pain of the most violent reprehension to all opponents: whether it were an article of faith, a principle of policy, a doctrine of morality, or a reading in an ancient author, still it was equallycut and slash, away it must go, to the dogs and vultures. These exterminating sentences were also given with such precipitancy, as not to allow even a minute for consideration. To the paper, to the press, to the world, all was given at once, frequently to the incurring of most palpable absurdity. Thus the simple elegance of” O beate Sexti“in Horace, was proposed, in an edition of that author, to be changed to” O bea Te, Sexti," though the alteration, besides being most bald and tasteless, produced a blunder in quantity so gross, that no boy even in the middle part of a public school could have been thought pardonable in committing it. It may easily be judged, whether a man of such precipitance, and so blind a self-confidence, was likely to be successful as an investigator of truth. So very far was he from it, that though no man of common sense perhaps ever literally exemplified the latter part of Dryden’s famous line on Zimri——

, a learned physician and medical writer, was born at Powick, in Worcestershire, 1708. He was the son of Mr. John Wall, an opulent tradesman of the city of Worcester, who served the office of mayor in 1703. He received the early part of his education at a grammar-school at Leigh-Sinton, and at the college school of Worcester, whence he was elected scholar of Worcester-college, Oxford, in June 1726. In 1735, he was elected fellow of Merton -college, soon after which he took the degree of bachelor of physic, and removed to the city of Worcester, where he was many years settled in practice. In 1759, he took the degree of M. D. Besides an ingenious “Treatise on the virtues of Malvern-waters,” which he brought into reputation, he enriched the repositories of medical knowledge with many valuable tracts, which, since his death, have been collected into an octavo edition, by his son, the present learned Dr. Martin Wall, F. R. S. clinical-professor of. the university, and were printed at Oxford in 1780. He married Catherine youngest daughter of Martin Sandys, esq. of the city of Worcester, barrister at law, and uncle to the first lord Sandys. Dr. Wall was a man of extraordinary genius, which he improved by early and indefatigable industry in the pursuit of science; but he was more particularly eminent in those branches of natural philosophy which have an immediate connexion with the arts, and with medicine. He was distinguished likewise through his whole life by an uncommon sweetness of manners, and cheerfulness of disposition, which, still more than his great abilities, made his acquaintance courted, and his conversation sought, by persons of all ranks and ages. His practice, as a physician, was extended far beyond the common circle of practitioners in the country, and he was particularly eminent for benevolence, courtesy, penetration, and success. His native country still boasts many monuments of the application of his eminent talents to her interests. To his distinguished skill in chemistry, and his assiduous researches (in conjunction with some other chemists) to discover materials proper for the china-ware, the city of Worcester owes the establishment of its porcelain-manufacture. Besides the improvements he suggested and put in execution for the accommodation of visitors at Malvern, it was to his zeal and diligence the county of Worcester is in no small degree indebted for the advantages of the infirmary, which he regularly attended during his whole life. His principal amusement was painting; and it has been said of him, that, if he had not been one of the best physicians, he would have been the best painter of his age. This praise is perhaps too high, yet his designs for the two frontispieces to “Hervey’s Meditations,” that for Cambridge’s “Scribleriad,” and for the East window of the chapel of Oriel-college, Oxford, are very creditable specimens of his talents. He died at Bath, after a lingering disorder, June 27, 1776, and lies buried in the abbey-church. The tracts published by his son, are, 1. “Of the extraordinary effects of Musk in convulsive disorders.” 2. “Of the use of the Peruvian Bark in the small-pox.” 3. “Of the cure of the putrid sore-throat.” 4. “Mr. Oram’s account of the Norfolk-boy.” 5. “Observations on that case, and on the efficacy of oil in wormcases.” 6. “Experiments and Observations on the Mal­* vern- waters.” 7. “Letters to Sir George Baker, &c. on the poison of lead, and the impregnation of cyder with that metal.” 8. “A Letter to Dr. Heberden on the Angina Pectoris.” 9. “Supplement; containing an account of the epidemic fever of 1740, 1741, and 1742.” The editor has enriched this publication with various notes, which discover an extensive acquaintance with the subjects in question, and a candid and liberal turn of mind. To the treatise on Malvern-waters Dr. Martin Wall has also subjoined an appendix of some length, containing an experimental inquiry into their nature; from which it appears, that the Holywell-water at Malvern owes its virtues principally to its extreme purity, assisted by the fixed air which it contains.

, an elegant scholar, poet, and critic, brother to the preceding, was born at the house of his maternal grandfather, the rev. Joseph Richardson, rector of Dunsford, in 1722. Except for a very short time that he was at New-college school, he was educated by his father until he arrived at his fourteenth year. He was then admitted on the foundation of Winchester-college, under the care of the venerable Dr. Sandby, at that time the head of the school, and * afterwards chancellor of Norwich. He had not been long at this excellent seminary before he exhibited considerable intellectual powers, and a laudable ambition to outstrip the common process of education. Colons, the poet, was one of his school-fellows, and in conjunction with him and another boy, young Warton sent three poetical pieces to the Gentleman’s Magazine, of such merit as to be highly praised in that miscellany, but not, as his biographer supposes, by Dr. Johnson. A letter also to his sister, which Mr. Wooll has printed, exhibits very extraordinary proofs of fancy and observation in one so young.

By will, proved April 5, 1683, sir Peter Warwick left to the parish of Chiselhurst 100l. to be placed out at interest for apprenticing a boy in the sea-service. To his native parish of St. Margaret, Westminster, the like sum for the same purpose and towards the building of St. Paul’s church lOO/.; to sir Charles Cotterill the little seal of his old master king Charles.

, an amiable and ingenious poet, untimely snatched from the world, was the second son of John and Mary White, and was born at Nottingham, March 21, 1785. From his third until his fifth year he learned to read at the school of a Mrs. Garrington, who had the good sense to perceive his extraordinary capacity, and spoke of what it promised with confidence. At a very early age his love oi reading was decidedly manifested, and was a passion to which every thing else gave way. When about six years old, he was placed under the rev. John Blanchard, who kept at that time the best school in Nottingham, and here he learned writing, arithmetic, and French. When he was about eleven, he one day wrote a separate theme for every boy in the class, which consisted of about twelve or fourteen. The master said he had never known them write so well upon any subject before, and could not refrain from expressing his astonishment at young White’s. It was considered as a great thing for him to be at so good a school, yet there were some circumstances which rendered it less advantageous to him than it might have been. Mrs. White had not yet overcome her husband’s intention of breeding him up to his own business (that of a butcher), and by an arrangement which took up too much of his time, one whole day in the week, and his leisure hours on the others, were employed in carrying the butcher’s basket. Some differences at length arose between his father and Mr. Blanchard, in consequence of which Henry was removed. It is remarkable that one of the ushers, when he came to receive the money due for tuition, represented to Mrs. White, either from stupidity or malice, what an incorrigible son she had, and that it was impossible to make the lad do any thing. This unfavourable impression, however, was soon removed by a Mr. Shipley, under whose care he was next placed, and who having discovered that he was a boy of quick perception, and very admirable talents, came with joy to relieve the anxiety and painful suspicions of his family. But while his school-masters were complaining that they could make nothing of him, he discovered what nature had made him, and wrote satires upon them. These pieces were never shewn to any, except his most particular friends, who say that they were pointed and severe, and it appears that he afterwards destroyed them.

, another English poet, of a more estimable character, was born at Cambridge in the beginning of 1715. His father was a baker in St. Botolph’s parish, and at one time must have been a man of some property or some interest, as he bestowed a liberal education on his eldest son, John, wtio after entering into the church, held the living of Pershore in the diocese of Worcester. He would probably have been enabled to extend the same care to William, his second son, had he not died when the boy was at school, and left his widow involved in debts contracted by extravagance or folly. A few acres of land, near Grantchester, on which he expended considerable sums of money, without, it would appear, expecting much return, is yet known by the name of White head’s Folly* William received the first rudiments of education at some common school at Cambridge, and at the age of fourteen was removed to Winchester, having obtained a nomination into that college by the interest of Mr. Bromley, afterwards lord MonttorC. Of his behaviour while at school his biographer, Mr. Mason, received the following account from Dr. Balguy. " He was always of a delicate turn, and though obliged to go to the hills with the other boys, spent his time there in reading either plays or poetry; and was also particularly fond of the Atalantis, and all other books of private history or character. He very early exhibited his taste for poetry; for while other boys were contented with shewing up twelve or fourteen lines, he would till half a sheet, but always with English verse. This Dr. Burton, the master, at first discouraged; but, after some time, he was so much charmed, that he spoke of them with rapture. When he was sixteen he wrote a whole comedy. In the winter of the year 1732, he is said to have acted a female part in the Andria, under Dr. Burton’s direction. Of this there are some doubts; but it is certain that he acted Marcia, in the tragedy of Cato, with much applause. In the year 1733, the earl of Peterborough, having Mr. Pope at his house near Southampton, carried him to Winchester to shew him the college, school, &c. The earl gave ten guineas to be disposed of in prizes amongst the boys, and Mr. Pope set them a subject to write upon, viz. Peterborough. Prizes of a guinea each were given to six of the boys, of whom Whitehead was one. The remaining sum was laid out for other boys in subscriptions to Pine’s Horace, then about to be published. He never excelled in writing epigrams, nor did he make any considerable figure in Latin verse, though he understood the classics very well, and had a good memory. He was, however, employed to translate into Latin the first epistle of the Essay on Man; and the translation is still extant in his own hand. Dobson’s success in translating Prior’s Solomon had put this project into Mr. Pope’s head, and he set various persons to work upon it.

This is n singular anecdote; how far Gray was right in his opinion may be left to the consideration of the reader, who is to remember that the subject of these verses is school-boy friendship. Some instances of its instability Whitehead may have experienced, and the name of Charles Townshend is mentioned as one who forgot him when he became a statesman. But it is certain that he had less to complain of, in this respect, than most young men of higher pretensions, for he retained the greater part of his youthful friendships to the last, and was, indeed, a debtor to friendship for almost all he had. What Gray seems to be afraid of, is Whitehead’s admission that the decay of friendship may be mutual, and from causes for which neither party is seriously to blame.

The lord keeper made use of his influence with the king, in behalf of several noblemen who were under the royal displeasure and in confinement. He prevailed with his majesty to set at liberty the earl of Northumberland, who had been fifteen years a prisoner in the Tower. He procured also the enlargement of the earls of Oxford and Arundel, both of whom had been a considerable time under confinement. He employed likewise his good offices with the king, in behalf of many others of inferior rank, particularly some clergymen who offended by their pulpit freedoms. One instance we shall extract from his principal biographer, as a proof of his address, and knowledge of king James’s peculiar temper. A Mr. Knight, a young divine at Oxford, had advanced in a sermon somewhat which was said to be derogatory to the king’s prerogative. For this he was a long time imprisoned, and a charge was about to be drawn up against him, to impeach him for treasonable doctrine. One Dr. White, a clergyman far advanced in years, was likewise in danger of a prosecution of the same kind. Bishop Williams was very desirous of bringing both these gentlemen off, and hit on the following contrivance. Some instructions had been appointed to be drawn up by his care and direction, for the performance of useful and orderly preaching; which being under his hand to dispatch, he now besought his majesty that this proviso might pass among the rest, that none of the clergy should be permitted to preach before the age of thirty years, nor after three-score. “On my soul,” said the king, “the devil, or some fit of madness is in the motion; for I have many great wits, and of clear distillation, that have preached before me at Royston and Newmarket to my great liking, that are under thirty. And my prelates and chaplains, that are far stricken in years, are the best masters of that faculty that Europe affords.” “I agree to all this,” answered the lord keeper, “and since your majesty will allow both young and old to go up into the pulpit, it is but justice that you shew indulgence to the young ones if they run into errors before their wits be settled (for every apprentice is allowed to mar some work before he be cunning in the mystery of his trade), and pity to the old ones, if some of them fall into dotage when their brains grow dry. Will your majesty conceive displeasure,' and not Jay it down, if the former set your teeth on edge sometimes, before they are mellow- wise and if the doctrine of the latter be touched with a blemish, when they begin to be rotten, and to drop from the tree?” “This is not unfit for consideration,” said the king, “but what do you drive at?” “Sir,” replied Williams, “first to beg your pardon for mine own boldness; then to remember you that Knight is a beardless boy, from whom exactness of judgment could not be expected. And that White is a decrepit, spent man, who had not a fee-simple, but a lease of reason, and it is expired. Both these that have been foolish in their several extremes of years, I prostrate at the feet of your princely clemency.” In consequence, of this application, king James readily granted a pardon to both of them.

, a celebrated cardinal and statesman, but to be remembered with more respect as a benefactor to learning, was so obscure in his origin that scarcely any historian mentions the names of his father and mother. Their names, however, are preserved by Rymer (Feed. vol. XIV. p. 355), in the pope’s bull of favours to those who came to Cardinal college in Oxford, and prayed for the safety of the said cardinal, and after his decease for the souls of him, his father Robert, and his mother Joan. This partly confirms the discovery of his zealous biographer, Dr. Fiddes, that he was the son of one Robert Wolsey, a butcher of Ipswich, where he was born in March 1471. Fiddes says that this Robert had a son whose early history corresponds with that of the cardinal, and that he was a man of considerable landed property. We may from other evidence conclude that his parents were either not poor, or not friendless, since they were able to give him the best education his native, town afforded, and afterwards to send him to Magdalen college. But in whatever way he was introduced here, it is certain that his progress in academical studies was so rapid that he was admitted to the degree of bachelor of arts at the age of fifteen, and from this extraordinary instance of precocity, was usually named the boy bachelor.

He was a great enemy to wrangling and disputes about religion and used to cut inquiries short by witticisms. To one who asked him, “Whether a Papist may be saved” he replied, “You may be saved without knowing that look to yourself.” To another, who was railing at the papists with more zeal than knowledge, he gave this advice: “Pray, Sir, forbear, till you have studied the points better; for, the wise Italians have this proverb, c He that understands amiss concludes worse;' and beware of thinking, that, the farther you go from the church of Rome, the nearer you are to God.” One or two more of his bons mots are preserved. A pleasant priest of his acquaintance at Rome invited him one evening to hear their vespermusic, and seeing him standing in an obscure corner of the church, sent a boy to him with this question, writ upon a scrap of paper, “Where was your religion to be found before Luther?” To which sir Henry sent back underwritten, “Where yours is not to be found, in the written word of God.” Another evening, sir Henry sent a boy of the choir with this question to his friend: “Do you believe those many thousands of poor Christians damned who were excommunicated because the popeand the duke of Venice could not agree about their temporalities?” To which the priest underwrit in French, “Excusez moi, Monsieur.”

, an English divine of uncommon parts and learning, was the son of Mr. Henry Wotton, rector of Wrentham, in Suffolk, a man of considerable learning also, and well skilled in the Oriental tongues. He was born at Wrentham the 13th of August, 1666, and was educated by his father. He discovered a most extraordinary genius for learning languages; and, though what is related of him upon this head may appear wonderful, yet it is so well attested that we know not how to refuse it credit. Sir Philip Skippon, who lived at Wrentham, in a letter to Mr. John Ray, Sept. Is, 1671, writes thus of him: “I shall somewhat surprise you with what I have seen in a little boy, William Wotton, five years old the last month, the son of Mr. Wotton, minister of this parish, who hath instructed his child within the last three quarters of a year in the reading the Latin, Greek, and Hebrew languages, which he can read almost as well as English; and that tongue he could read at four years and three months old as well as most lads of twice his age. I could send you many particulars about his rendering chapters and psalms out of the three learned languages into English,” &c. Among sir Philip’s papers was found a draught of a longer letter to Mr. Ray, in which these farther particulars are added to the above: “He is not yet able to parse any language, but what he performs in turning the three learned tongues into English is done by strength of memory; so that he is ready to mistake when some words of different signification have near the same sound. His father hath taught him by no rules, but only uses the child’s memory in remembering words: some other children of his age seem to have as good a fancy and as quick apprehension.” He was admitted of Catharine Hall, Cambridge, in April 1676, some months before he was ten years old; and upon his admission Dr. John Eachard, then master of the college, gave him this remarkable testimony: Gulidmns Wottonus infra decem annos nee Ilammondo nee Grotio secundus. His progress in learning was answerable to the expectations conceived of him; and Dr. Duport, the master of Magdalen-college, and dean of Peterborough, has described it in an elegant copy of verses; “In Gulielmum Wottanum stupendi ingenii et incomparabilis spei puerum vixdum duodecim annorum.” He then goes on to celebrate his skill in the languages, not only in the Greek and Latin, which he understood perfectly, but also in the Hebrew, Arabic, Syriac, Chaldee; his skill too in arts and sciences, in geography, logic, philosophy, mathematics^ chronology.

Many curious particulars are recorded of this painter; among others we are told that he had painted some grapes so very naturally, that the birds used to come and peck them; and Parrhasius painted a curtain so artfully, that Zeuxis, mistaking it for a real curtain, which hid his rival’s work, ordered it to be drawn aside, that he might see Parrhasius’s painting; but, finding his mistake, he confessed himself vanquished; since he had only imposed upon birds, whereas Parrhasius had misled even those who were masters of the art. Another time, he painted a boy loaded with grapes, when the birds flew again to this picture, at which he was vexed; and frankly confessed, that it was not sufficiently finished, since, had he painted the boy as perfectly as the grapes, the birds would have been afraid of him. Archelaus, king of Macedon, made use of Zeuxis’s pencil for the embellishment of his house; upon which Socrates made this reflection, as it is preserved by Æian: “Archelaus,” said he, “has laid out a vast sum, of money upon his house, but nothing upon himself: whence it is, that numbers come from all parts of the world to see his house, but none to see him; except those who are tempted by his money and presents, and who wilt not be found among the worthiest of men.”

In 1737 he made a visit to his own country; and after his return, his eyes failing, he retired from business, about 1746, to South Lambeth, with a second wife, by whom he hacj three or four children. His first wife was a handsome woman, of whom he had been very fond; there is a print of him and her; he had a son by her, for whom he bought a place in the six clerks office, and a daughter, ic? lib died a little before he retired to Lambeth. After his quitting business, madanne Pompadour prevailed upon him to copy, in enamel, a picture of the king of France, which she sent over on purpose. He died in March 1767. Thus far from Walpole’s “Anecdotes.”What follows is from another authority. “When Zincke was in the greatest practice, he was in a very bad state of health; and being well respected by a number of the most celebrated physicians, had their assistance and advice. All of them pronounced that he was in a decline; but about the method of cure, they were not unanimous. Some prescribed one drug, and some another; and one of them recommended breast-milk. The drugs he swallowed; but the breast-milk he did not much relish the thought of. Finding himself grow rather worse than better; and being told that air and exercise were the best remedy for his complaint, he tasked himself to walk through the Park, and up Constitution-bill, every morning before breakfast. Tnis did Hot relieve him; but from habit rather than hope, he still continued his perambulations. One summer morning, a handsome young woman, very meanly clad, with a child about six weeks old in her arms, asked his charity. He gave her some pence, and asked her how she came into her present distressed situation. Her history was short she had been a servant she became partial to a footman in the same house, and married him they were both turned away the man had no other resource but to enlist he became a soldier; was sent abroad she had never heard from him since; had been delivered of the child now at her breast, for whose support and her own she should beg till her infant was a few months older, when she should try to get some more reputable employment. `Her frankness,' said Zincke, `pleased me; her face pleased me; her complexion pleased me; I gave her my direction she came to me I took her infant into my house I did bring myself to take her milk; it recovered me; I made inquiry after her husband, and found he was killed in the first engagement he was in, at the pillaging a village in Germany. I married her; and a better wife no man ever had/ With this woman he lived near twenty years. The soldier’s child he educated for the army, and promised to get him a commission when he was twenty-one; but the boy died at fourteen. By Zincke she had two children, each, of them were well provided for; and one of them was a very few years since alive, and well situated in a northern province.”