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, an excellent French geometrician, a member of the old academy of sciences, and more recently of the conservative senate, and the national institute of France, was horn at Paris, Jan. 28, 1739, and was early distinguished for literary industry, and habits of study and reflection, which were confined at last to the pursuit of mathematical knowledge and natural philosophy. In 1766 he was appointed professor of the latter in the college of France, as coadjutor of Le Monnier, which situation he filled for thirty-two years with great reputation. 3u 1769 he was appointed professor of mathematics in the military school in 1772 he was admitted into the academy of sciences as adjoint-geometer, and in 1777 he published the first edition of his lessons on the “Calcul differentiel, et Calcul integral,” 2 vols. 12mo, reprinted in 1796 and 1797, in 2 vols. 4to, a work which manifests the depth and precision of his geometrical knowledge. In 1787 he published his “Introduction a l‘etude de l’Astronomie physique,” 8v; and in 1798, “Elemens d'Algebre,” 8vo. There are also various essays by him in the Memoirs of the Academy of Sciences. In 1791 he was appointed municipal officer of the commune of Paris, and his office being to provide the metropolis with provisions at that distracted period, he must have executed its duties with no common prudence and skill to have given satisfaction. In 1796 he resumed his professor’s chair in the college of France, and in 1799 was chosen a member of the conservative senate. His conduct in political life we are unacquainted with. He died at Paris December 30, 1808.

, an eminent French artist, and the earliest historical painter France produced, was born at Souci near Sens, in 1530, and studied the fine arts so strenuously in his youth, that he became profoundly learned, especially in the mathematics. Painting on glass being very much in vogue in those days, he applied himself more to that than to the drawing of pictures. Several fine performances of his are to be seen in the churches of the neighbourhood of Sens, and some in Paris; particularly in St. Gervase’s church, where, on the windows of the choir, he painted the martyrdom of St. Laurence, the history of the Samaritan woman, and that of the paralytic. There are several of his pictures in the city of Sens; as also some portraits. But the chief of his works, and that which is most esteemed, is his picture of the Last Judgment, in the sacristy of the Minims at Bois de Vincennes, which was graved by Peter de Tode, a Fleming, a good designer. This picture shews the fruitfulness of Cousin’s genius, by the numbers of the figures that enter into the composition; yet is somewhat wanting in elegance of design.

Cousin married the daughter of the lieutenant-general of Sens, and carried her to Paris, where he lived the rest of his days. His learning acquired him the name of the Great. He was well received at court, and in favour with four kings successively; namely, Henry II. Francis II. Charles IX. and Henry III. He worked also in sculpture, and made admiral Chabot’s tomb, which is in the chapel of Orleans, belonging to the Celestines in Paris. The last French account of him fixes his death in 1589. Of his literary works, we have seen only the following: 1. “Livre de Perspective,” Par. 1560, folio. 2. “Livre de Pourtraiture,” ib. 1618, 4to, and 1671, both which are in the British Museum.

, president of the Mint, one of the forty members of the French academy, was born Aug. 12, 1627, at Paris. He was intended for the ecclesiastical profession, and admitted bachelor of the Sorbonne; but, quitting that situation afterwards, was received advocate, married, and attended the bar till 1657, when he was appointed president of the Mint. He assisted in the “Journal des Savans” from 1687 to 1702. President Cousin was well acquainted with ecclesiastical antiquity, and learned Hebrew at the age of 70, that he might spend his last years in reading the Scripture in the original. He died. February 26, 1707, at Paris, aged 80. He founded six scholarships at the college of Laon, and left his library to the abbey of St. Victor, with 20,000 livres; the interest to be employed in augmenting that library. His works are, “The Roman History of Xiphilin,” &c. 4to, or 2 vols. 12mo, a French translation of the “Ecclesiastical Histories of Eusebius, Socrates, Sozomenus, and Theodoret,” 4 vols. 4to, or 6 vols. 12 mo: there are often hut five, because the History of Constantine has been taken out, and added to that of Constantinople. A translation of the authors of the “Byzantine History,” 1672—1674, in 8 vols. 4to, or 11 12mo and some other works. These translations are written in very good French.

, a learned Benedictine of the congregation of St. Maure, was born at Compiegne in 1654, and died at Paris October 18, 1721, in the abbey of St. Germain des Pres, of which he was dean. He employed much of his time, as was the case with other learned men of his order, in preparing editions of the fathers. In 1693, he published an edition of St. Hilary, folio, and in 1706 undertook the defence of Mabillon on the subject of establishing rules for distinguishing genuine from fictitious writings, and wrote against Mabillon’s antagonist, father Germon$ a Jesuit, “Vindicise ms. codicum a R. P. Barth. Germon impugnatorum, cum appendice in qua S. Hilarii quidam loci ab anonymo (the abbe Faydit) obscurati et depravati illustrantur et explicantur.” In 1715 he published “Vindiciae veterum codicum confirmatae,” against another work of the same Germon’s, “De veteribus hrcreticis ecclesiasticorum codicum corruptoribus.” He also assisted in the Benedictine edition of St. Augustin’s works, and published “The Letters of the Popes,” at Paris, folio, with a preface and notes, 1721. He was, as to private character, a man of unbounded charity, and, his biographer says, not only loved the poor, but poverty itself.

, sculptor in ordinary to the French king, was born at Lyons in 1658, and died at Paris the 1st of May, 1733, aged 75, member of the royal academy of painting and sculpture. He went to Italy as pensionary of the king. It was there he produced his fine statue of the emperor Commodus, represented under the character of Hercules, forming one of the ornaments of the gardens of Versailles. On his return to France, he decorated Paris, Versailles, and Marly, with several pieces of exquisite workmanship. The groupe at the back of the high-altar of Notre Dame de Paris is by him, as well as the two groupes ut Marly, representing two horses tamed by grooms. A fop, who gave himself airs as a great connoisseur, thought fit to say to the artist, while he was employed on this his last grand work: “But this bridle, methinks, should be tighter.” “What pity, sir,” replied Coustou, “you did not come in a moment sooner! you would have seen the bridle just as you would have it; but these horses are so tender-mouthed, that it could not continue so for the twinkling of an eye.” In all his productions he displays an eleyated genius; with a judicious and delicate taste, a fine selection, a chaste design, natural, pathetic and noble attitudes; and his draperies are rich, elegant, and mellow. His brother William was director of the royal academy of painting and sculpture, and died at Paris the 22d of February, 1746, at the age of 69. Although he had not much less merit in the number and perfection of his works, he was not always esteemed so highly as he deserved.

, born at Paris in 1716, the nephew of Nicholas, was son of the last- mentioned, and succeeded to his talents, which he improved at Rome. On his return to France, where previous to his departure for Italy he had carried off the prize for sculpture at the age of nineteen, he was employed repeatedly by many persons of rank. He was engaged to make the mausoleum of the dauphin, father to Louis XVI. and his illustrious consort: a monument which embellishes the cathedral of Sens. It was just finished when its author died in July 1777, in the 6 1st year of his age. His coffin was decorated with the ribbon of St. Michael, which the king had bestowed on him not long before. His other performances are: the apotheosis of St. Francis Xavier, which he executed in marble for the Jesuits of Bourdeaux; an Apollo placed at Bellevue; Venus and Mars, which the king or' Prussia bought as an ornament to his gallery at Berlin, &c. His Venus is particularly conspicuous for the grace, the precision, and the majesty of its form.

, a medical and metaphysical writer, was the son of Mr. William Coward of Winchester, where he was born in the year 1656 or 1657. It is not certain where young Coward received his grammatical education; but it was probably at Winchester-school. In his eighteenth year he was removed to Oxford, and in May 1674 became a commoner of Hart-hall; the inducement to which might probably be, that his uncle was at the head of that seminary. However, he did not long continue there; for in the year following he was admitted a scholar of Wadham college. On the 27th of June, 1677, betook the degree of B. A. and in January 1680 he was chosen probationer fellow of Merton college. In the year 1681, was published Mr. Dvyden’s Absalom and Achitophel, a production on the celebrity of which we need not expatiate. At Oxford it could not fail to be greatly admired for its poetical merit; besjde which, it might be the better received on account of its containing a severe satire on the duke of Monmouth and the earl of Sbftftesboryj two men who were certainly no favourites with tnat loyal university. Accordingly, the admiration of the poem produced two Latin versions of it, both of which were written and printed at Oxford; one by Mr. Francis Atterbury (afterwards the celebrated bishop of Rochester), who was assisted in it by Mr. Francis Hickman, a student of Christchurch; and the other by Mr. Coward. These translations were published in quarto, in 1682. Whatever proof Mr. Coward’s version of the Absalom and Achitophel might afford oi“his progress in classical literature, he was not very fortunate in this first publication. It was compared with Mr. Atterbury’s production, not a little to its disadvantage. According to Anthony Wood, he was schooled for it in the college; it was not well received in the university; and Atterbury’s poem was extolled as greatly superior. To conceal, in some degree, Mr. Coward’s mortification, a friend of his, in a public paper, advertised the translation, as written by a Walter Curie, of Hertford, gentleman; yet Coward’s version was generally mistaken for Atterbury’s, and a specimen given of it in Stackhouse’s life of that prelate. On the 13th of December, 1683, Mr. Coward was admitted to the degree of M.A. Having determined to apply himself to the practice of medicine, he prosecuted his studies in that science, and took the degree of bachelor of physic on the 23d of June 1685, and of doctor on the 2,d of July 1687. After his quitting Oxford he exercised his profession at Northampton, from which place he removed to London in 1693 or 1694, and settled in Lombard-street. In 1695 he published a tract in 8vo, entitled” De fermento volatili nutritio conjectura rationis, qua ostenditur spiritum volatilemoleosum, e sanguine suffusurn, esse verum ac genuinum concoctionis ac nutritionis instrumentum.“For this work he^iad an honourable approbation from the president and censors of the college of physicians. But it was not to medical studies only that Dr. Coward confined his attention. Besides being fond of polite learning, he entered deeply into metaphysical speculations, especially with regard to the nature of the soul, and the natural immortality of man. The result of his inquiries was his publication, in 1702, under the fictitious name of Estibius Psycalethes, entitled” Second Thoughts concerning Human Soul, demonstrating the notion of human soul, as believed to be a spiritual immortal substance united to a human body, to be a plain heathenish invention, and not consonant to the principles of philosophy, reason, or religion; but the ground only of many absurd and superstitious opinions, abominable to the reformed church, and derogatory in general to true Christianity.“This work was dedicated by the doctor to the clergy of the church of England; and he professes at his setting out,” that the main stress of arguments, either to confound or support his opinion, must be drawn from those only credentials of true and orthodox divinity, the lively oracles of God, the Holy Scriptures.“In another part, in answer to the question, Does man die like a brute beast? he says,” Yes, in respect to their end in this life; both their deaths consist in a privation of life.“” But then,“he adds,” man has this prerogative or pre-eminence above a brute, that he will be raised to life again, and be made partaker of eternal happiness in the world to come.“Notwithstanding these professions to the authority of the Christian Scriptures, Dr. Coward has commonly been ranked with those who have been reputed to be the most rancorous and determined adversaries of Christianity. Swift has ranked him with Toland, Tindal, and Gildon; and passages to the like purpose are not unfrequent among controversial writers, especially during the former part of the last century. His denial of the immateriality and natural immortality of the soul, and of a separate state of existence between the time of death and the general resurrection, was so contrary to universal opinion, that it is not very surprising that he should be considered as an enemy to revelation. It might be expected that he would immediately meet with opponents; and accordingly he was attacked by various writers of different complexions and abilities; among whom were Dr. Nichols, Mr. John Broughton, and. Mr. John Turner. Dr. Nichols took up the argument in his” Conference with a Theist.“Mr. Broughton wrote a treatise entitled” Psychologia, or, an Account of the nature of the rational Soul, in two parts;“and Mr. Turner published a” Vindication of the separate existence of the Soul from a late author’s Second Thoughts.“Both these pieces appeared in 1703. Mr. Turner’s publication was answered by Dr. Coward, in a pamphlet called” Farther Thoughts upon Second Thoughts,“in which he acknowledges, that in Mr. Turner he had a rational and candid adversary. He had not the same opinion of Mr. Broughton who therefore was treated by him with severity, in” An Epistolary Reply to Mr. Broughton’s Psychologia;“which reply was not separately printed, but annexed to a work of the doctor’s, published in the beginning of the year 1704, and entitled,” The Grand Essay or, a Vindication of Reason and Religion against the impostures of Philosophy." In this last production, the idea of the human soul’s being an immaterial substance was again vigorously attacked.

So obnoxious were Dr. Coward’s positions, that on Friday, March 10, 1704, a complaint was made to the house of commons of the “Second Thoughts” and the “Grand Essay;” which books were brought up to the table, and some parts of them read. The consequence of this was, an order, “that a committee be appointed to examine the said books, and collect such parts thereof as are offensive; and to examine who is the author, printer, and publisher thereof.” At the same time the matter was referred to a committee, who were directed to meet that afternoon, and had power given them to send for persons, papers, and records. On the 17th of March, Sir David Cullum, the chairman, reported from the committee, that they had examined the books, and had collected out of them several passages which they conceived to be offensive, and that they found that Dr. Coward was the author of them; that Mr. David Edwards was the printer of the one, and Mr. W. Pierson of the other; and that both the books were published by Mr. Basset. Sir David Cullum having read the report in his place, and the same being read again, after it had been delivered in at the clerks’ table, the house proceeded to the examination of the evidence with regard to the writing, printing, and vending of the two books. Sufficient proof having been produced with respect to the writer of them, Dr. Coward was called in. Being examined accordingly, he acknowledged that he was the author of the books, and declared that he never intended any thing against religion; that there was nothing contained in them contrary either to morality or religion; and that if there were any thin^ therein contrary to religion or morality, he was heartily sorry, and ready to recant the same. The house then resolved, “that the said books do contain therein divers doctrines and positions contrary to the doctrine of the church of England, and tending to the subversion of the Christian religion;” and ordered that they should be burnt, next day, by the common hangman, in New Palace-yard, Westminster; which order was carried into execution. Notwithstanding this proceeding, in the course of the same year he published a new edition of his “Second Thoughts;” which was followed by a treatise, entitled, “The just Scrutiny; or, a serious inquiry into the modern notions of the Soul.”

From a letter of our author to Dr. Hans Sloane, dated May 2ti, 1706, it appears that he was in habits of intimacy with this eminent physician and naturalist. Dr. Sloane carried his friendship so far as take upon himself the supervisal of the “Oplulialrniatria.” As the letter to Dr. Sloane is dated from the Green Bell, over against the Castle tavern, near Holborn, in Fetter-lane, there is reason to believe that Dr. Coward had quitted London, and was now only a visitant in town, for the purpose of his publication. Indeed the fact is ascertained from the list of the college of physicians for 1706, where Dr. William Coward, who stands under the head of candidates, is then for the first time mentioned as residing in the country. The opposition he had met with, and the unpopularity arising from his works, might be inducements with him for leaving the metropolis. It does not appear, for twelve years, to what part of the kingdom he had retired nor, from this period, do we hear more of Dr. Coward as a medical or metaphysical writer. Even when he had been the most engaged in abstruse and scientific inquiries, he had not omitted the study of polite literature; for we are told, that in 1705 he published the “Lives of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob,” an heroic poem, which was little noticed at first, and soon sunk in total oblivion. Another poetical performance by Dr. Coward, and the last of his writings that has come to our knowledge, was published in 1709, and is entitled, “Licentia poetica discussed; or, the true Test of Poetry: without which it is difficult to judge of or compose a correct English poem. To which are added, critical observations on the principal ancient and modern poets, viz. Homer, Horace, Virgil, Milton, Cowley, Dryden, &c. as frequently liable to just censure.” This work, which is divided into two books, is dedicated to the duke of Shrewsbury, and introduced by a long and learned preface. Prefixed are three copies of commendatory verses, signed A. Hill, J. Gay, and Sam. Barklay. The two former, Aaron Hill and John Gay, were then young poets, who afterwards, as is well known, rose to a considerable degree of reputation. Coward is celebrated by them as a great bard, a title to which he had certainly no claim; though his “Licentia,” considered as a didactic poem, and as such poems were then generally written, is not contemptible. It is not so correct as lord Roscommon’s essay on translated verse; but it is little, if at all, inferior to the duke of Buckingham’s essay on poetry, which was so much extolled in its day. The rules laid down by Dr. Coward for poetical composition are often minute, but usually, though not universally, founded on good sense and just taste; but he had not enough of the latter to feel the harmony and variety of Milton’s numbers. Triplets, double rhymes, and Alexandrines, are condemned by him; the last of which, however, he admits on some great occasion. The notes, which are large and numerous, display no small extent of reading; and to the whole is added, by way of appendix, a political essay, from which it appears that our author was a very zealous whig.

In the list of the college of physicians for 1718, Dr. Coward begins to be mentioned as residing at Ipswich. From this place he wrote, in 1722, a letter to his old friend, sir Hans Sloane, the occasion of which is somewhat curious. He had learned from the newspapers, that the duchess dowager of Maryborough proposed to give five hundred guineas to any person who should present her with an epitaph, suitable to the late duke her husband’s character. “Now,” says he, “I have one by me, which gives him his just character, without flattery or ostentation, and which I verily believe may be acceptable to any learned man.” He adds, that he hears it was to be approved by Dr. Hare, Dr. Freind of Westminster-school, and Dr. Bland of Eton-school; and, if this be true, he begs that sir Hans would give him leave to send it for his approbation and recommendation. What was the issue of this we know not. From the omission of Dr. Coward’s name in the catalogue of the college of physicians for 1725, it is evident that he was then dead. Though his medical works are now in no reputation, and his other writings are but little attended to, it is nevertheless certain that he was a man of considerable abilities and literature. We cannot dismiss this article without taking notice of a mistake which was commit Led by the late Dr. Caleb Fleming; who, in the year 1758, published a treatise, entitled “A Survey of the Search after Souls,” imagining that he was writing against Dr. Coward. But the Search after Souls was the production of Henry Layton, a barrister of Gray’s Inn .

, a learned and eminent civilian, was born at Ernsborough, in Devonshire, about 1554; educated at Eton school; and elected a scholar of King’s college in Cambridge, in 1570. He was afterwards chosen fellow of that college; and, by the advice of Bancroft bishop of London, applied himself particularly to the study of ci-vil law. He was regularly admitted to the degree of LL.D. in his own university; and, in 1600, was incorporated into the same degree at Oxford. Soon after he was made the king’s professor of civil law in Cambridge, and about the same time master of Trinity-hall. His patron, Bancroft, being advanced to the see of Canterbury in 1604, and beginning to project many things for the service of the church and state, put him upon that laborious, work the “Interpreter,” or an explanation of law-terms, which he published at Cambridge in 1607, 4to. It was reprinted in 1609, and several times since, particularly in 1638, for which archbishop Laud was reflected upon; and it was made an article against him at his trial, as if the impression of that book had been done by his authority, or at least with his connivance, in order to countenance king Charles’s arbitrary measures. In 1677 and 1684 it was published with large additions by Thomas Manley of the Middle Temple, esq. and again in 1708, with very considerable improvements, by another hand: in all which later editions the exceptionable passages have been corrected or omitted.

In the mean time Bancroft was so satisfied with the abilities and learning shewn in the “Interpreter,” that he appointed the author his vicar-general in 1608: nor was this performance censured for some time. But at last great offence was taken at it, because, as was pretended, the author had spoken too freely, and with expressions even of sharpness, of the common law, and some eminent professors of it, Littleton in particular: and this irritated sir Edward Coke especially, who was not only privately concerned for the honour of Litileton, whom he had commented upon, but also valued himself as the chief advocate of his profession. Sir Edward took all occasions to affront him, and used to call him in derision Doctor Cow-heel; and, not satisfied with this, he endeavoured to hurt him with the king, by suggesting that Dr. Cowell “had disputed too nicely upon the mysteries qf this our monarchy, yea, in some points, very derogatory to the supreme power of this crown and had asserted that the king’s prerogative is in some cases limited.” This was touching James ia a most tender part, and had probably ruined Cowell, if the archbishop had not stood his friend. The common lawyers, however, whose contests with the civilians then ran very high, finding that they coukl not hurt him with the king, resolved to try what they could do with the people, and represented him now as a betrayer of the rights and liberties of the people; in consequence of which a complaint was carried up against him in the house of commons, and the author was committed to custody, and his book publicly burnt. The commons also complained of him to the lords, as equally struck at; and he was censured by them for asserting, 1. That the king was solutus a legibus, and not bound by his coronation-oath. 2. That it was not ex necessitate, that the king should call a parliament to make laws, but might do that by his absolute power: for that voluntas regis with him was lex populi. 3. That it vvas a favour to admit the consent of his subjects in giving of subsidies. 4. That he draws his arguments from the imperial laws of the Roman emperors, which are of no force in England." The commons were therefore very desirous to proceed criminally against him, if the king had not interposed. But upon his majesty’s promise to condemn the doctrines of the book as absurd, together with the author of them, they proceeded no farther. In both prosecutions of this work, the malice of Cowell’s enemies was obvious, for the same book could not have had a tendency to infringe upon the prerogative of the king and the liberties of the subject.

Cowell retired after this to his college, where he pursued his private studies, but did not live long. It was his misfortune to be afflicted with the stone, the operation for which proved fatal to him Oct. 11, 1611. He was buried in his chapel of Trinity-hall, where there is a plain Latin inscription to his memory. Besides “The Interpreter,” he had published ifi 1605, “Institutes of the Laws of England, in the same method as Justinian’s Institutes.” He also composed a tract “De regulis juris, Of the rules of the law,” wherein his intent was by collating the cases of both laws, to shew that they are both raised upon one foundation, and differ more in language and terms, than in substance; and therefore, were they reduced to one method, as they easily might, to be attained in a manner with all one pains. But it does not appear that this last was ever published.

, an eminent English poet, was born in London, 1618. His father, who was a grocer, dying before his birth, he was left to the care of his mother, who, by the interest of friends, procured him to be admitted a king’s scholar in Westminster school. The occasion of his first inclination to poetry, was his casual meeting with Spenser’s Fairy Queen. “I believe,” says he, in his essay on himself, “I can tell the particular little chance that filled my head first with such chimes of verses as have never since left ringing there. For I remember, when I began to read, and to take some pleasure in it, there was wont to lie in my mother’s parlour—I know not by what accident, for she herself never in her life read any book but of devotion; but there was wont to lie—Spenser’s Works. This I happened to fall upon, and was infinitely delighted with the stones of the knights and giants, and monsters, and brave houses, which I found every-where, though my understanding had little to do with all this, and by degrees with the tinkling of the rhyme, and dance of the numbers; so that I think I had read him all over before I was twelve years old.”

In 1633, being still at Westminster, and only fifteen years of age, he published a collection of poems, under the title of “Poetical Blossoms;” in which, says Sprat, there were many things that might well become the vigour and force of a manly wit. Of these his Pyramus and Thisbe was written at ten, and his Constantia and Philetus, at twelve years old. Cowley tells us of himself, that he had so defective a memory at that time, that he never could be brought to retain the ordinary rules of grammar; however, as Sprat observes, he abundantly supplied that want, by conversing with the books themselves, from whence those rules had been drawn. He was removed in 1636 from Westminster to Trinity-college, in Cambridge, where he wrote some, and laid the designs of most of those masculine works which he afterwards published. In 1638 he published his “Love’s Riddle,” a pastoral comedy, which was written while he was at Westminster, and dedicated in a copy of verses to sir Kenelm Digby; and a Latin comedy, called “Naufragium Joculare,” or “The merry Shipwreck,” after it had been acted before the university by the members of Trinity college.

At the beginning of the civil war, as the prince passed through Cambridge, in his way to York, he was entertained with a representation of the “Guardian,” a comedy, which Cowley says was neither written nor acted, ' but rough-drawn by him, and repeated by the scholars. That this comedy was printed during his absence from his country, he appears to have considered as injurious to his reputation, though, during the suppression of the theatres, it was sometimes privately acted with sufficient approbation.

The first occasion of his entering into business, was an elegy he wrote on the death of Mr. William Hervey. This brought him into the acquaintance of John Hervey, the brother of his deceased friend, from whom he received many offices of kindness, and principally this, that by his means he came into the service of the lord St. Alban’s. la 1643, being then M. A. he was, among many others, ejected his college and the university, by the prevalence f parliament; upon which, he retired to Oxford, settled in St. John’s college there, and that same year, under the name of an Oxford Scholar, published a satire entitled “The Puritan and the Papist.” His affection to the royal cause engaged him in the service of the king and he attended in several of his majesty’s journies and expeditions. Here he became intimately acquainted with lord Falkland, and other great men, whom the fortune of the war had drawn together. During the heat of the civil war, he was settled in the family of the earl of St. Alban’s, and attended the queen mother when she was forced to retire into France. He was absent from England about ten years, says Wood; about twelve, says Sprat; which, be they more or less, were wholly spent, either in bearing a share in the distresses of the royal family, or in labouring in their affairs. To this purpose he performed several dangerous journies into Jersey, Scotland, Flanders, Holland, and elsewhere; and was the principal instrument in maintaining a correspondence between the king and his royal consort, whose letters he cyphered and decyphered with his own hand, an employment of the highest confidence and honour.

In 1647 his “Mistress” was published f for he imagined, as he declared in his preface to a subsequent edition, that “poets are scarcely thought freemen of their company, without paying some duties, or obliging themselves to be true to love.” Barnes informs us, that whatever Cowley may talk of his own inflammability, and the variety of characters by which his heart was divided, he in reality was in love but once, and then never had the resolution to tell his passion. At Paris, however, he did not much employ his thoughts upon phantoms of gallantry, having constant employment as secretary to lord St. Alban’s.

In 1656 he was sent over into England, with all imaginable secrecy, to take cognizance of the state of affairs here; but soon after his arrival, while he lay hid in London, he was seized on by a mistake, the search having been intended after another gentleman of considerable note in the king’s party. He was often examined before the usurpers, who tried all methods to make him serviceable to their purposes; but proving inflexible, he was committed to close imprisonment, and scarce at last obtained his liberty upon the terms of 1000l. bail, which was tendered by Dr. Scarborough. Thus he continued a prisoner at large, till the general redemption; yet, taking the opportunity of the confusions that followed upon Cromwell’s death, he ventured back into France, and there remained in the same situation as before, till' near the time of the king’s return. Upon his return to England, in 1656, he published a new edition of all his poems, consisting of four parts; viz. 1. Miscellanies. 2. The Mistress. 3. Pindaric Odes. 4. “Davideis.” The “Mistress” had been published in his absence, and his comedy called “The Guardian,” afterwards altered and published under the title of “Cutter of Coleman-street,” but both very incorrectly. In the preface to his poems, he complains of the publication of some things of his, without his consent or knowledge; and those very mangled and imperfect, particularly of the “Guardian,” already noticed. In this preface also he seems to have inserted something suppressed in subsequent editions, which was interpreted to denote some relaxation of his loyalty. He declares, that “his desire had been for some days past, and did still very vehemently continue, to retire himself to some of the American plantations, and to forsake this world for ever.” From the obloquy which the appearance of submission to the usurpers brought upon him, Dr. Sprat and Dr. Johnson have successfully laboured to clear him, and indeed it does not seem to have lessened his reputation. His wish for retirement, says Dr. Johnson, we can easily believe to be undissembled; a man harassed in one kingdom, and persecuted in another, who, after a course of business that employed all his days and half his nights in cyphering and deciphering, comes to his own country and steps into a prison, will be willing enough to retire to some place of quiet and safety. As to the verses on Oliver’s death, which Ant. Wood seems to hint were of the encomiastic kind, no judgment can be formed, since they have not been published. There is, indeed, a discourse concerning his government, with verses intermixed, but such as certainly gained its author no friends among the abettors of usurpation.

During his stay in England, he wrote his two books of Plants, published first in 1662, to which he afterwards added four books more; and all the six, together with his other Latin poems, were printed after his death at London, in 1678. The occasion of his choosing the subject of his six books of plants, Dr. Sprat tells us, was this: When he returned into England, he was advised to dissemble the main intention of his coming over, under the disguise of applying himself to some settled profession; and that of physic was thought most proper. To this purpose, after many anatomical dissections, he proceeded to the consideration of simples, and having furnished himself with books of that nature, retired into a fruitful part of Kent, where every field and wood might shew him the real figures of those plants of which he read. Thus he soon mastered that part of the art of medicine; but then, instead of employing his skill for practice and profit, he laboured to digest it into its present form. The two first books treat of Herbs, in a style, says Sprat, resembling the elegies of Ovid and Tibullus; the two next, of Flowers, in all the variety of Catullus and Horace’s numbers, for which last author he is said to have had a peculiar reverence; and the two last, of Trees, in the way of Virgil’s Georgics. Of these, the sixth book is wholly dedicated to the honour of his country; for, making the British oak to preside in the assembly of the forest trees, he takes that occasion to enlarge upon the history of the late troubles, the king’s affliction and return, and the beginning of the Dutch war; and he does it in a way which is honourable to the nation. Such is Dr. Sprat’s judgment. A more recent and accomplished botanical critic, however, observes that neither the text, nor the notes, manifest sufficient proof of Cowley’s intimate acquaintance with those authors of true fame, among the moderns, through whose assistance the want of that information might in some measure have been supplied. Nevertheless, as in the language of Dr. Johnson, “botany, in the mind of Cowley, turned into poetry,” to those who are alike enamoured with the charms of both, the poems of Cowley must yield delight; since his fertile imagination has adorned his subject with all the beautiful allusions that ancient poets and mythologists could supply; and even the fancies of the modern Signatores, of Baptista Porta, Crollius, and their disciples, who saw the virtues of plants in the physiognomy, or agreement in colour or external, forms with the parts of the human body, assisted to embellish his verse. Vol. X. C c It appears by Wood’s Fasti, that Cowley was created M. D. at Oxford, Dec. 2, 1657, who says, that he had this degree conferred upon him by virtue of a mandamus from the then prevailing powers, and that the thing was much taken notice of by the royal party. At the commencement of the royal society, according to Dr. Birch’s history, he appears busy among the experimental philosophers, with the title of Dr. Cowley, but there is no reason for supposing that he ever attempted practice.

After the king’s restoration, being then past his 40th year, of which the greatest part had been spent in a various and tempestuous condition, he resolved to pass the remainder of his life in a studious retirement; which Sprat represents as the effect of choice, and not of discontent. At first, says the doctor, he was but slenderly provided for such a retirement, by reason of his travels, and the afflictions of the party to which he adhered, which had put him quite out of all the roads of gain. Yet, notwithstanding the narrowness of his income, he remained fixed to his resolution, having contracted his desires into a small compass, and knowing that a very few things would supply them all. But upon the settlement of the peace of the nation, this hindrance of his design was soon removed; for he then obtained a plentiful estate by the favour of the lord St. Alban’s, and the bounty of the duke of Buckingham. All this may be true, but it is certain he was neglected by the court, nor was this his only mortification. Having altered his comedy of “The Guardian” for the stage, he produced it under the title of “Cutter of Coleman-street,” and it was not only treated on the stage with great severity, but was afterwards censured as a satire on the king’s party. From this charge of disaffection he exculpates himself in his preface, by observing how unlikely it is, that, having followed the royal family through all their distresses, “he should chuse the time of their restoration to begin a quarrel with them.”

To these calumnies, says Mr. D'Israeli, it would appear that others were added of a deeper dye, and in malignant whispers distilled into the ear of royalty. Cowley has commemorated the genius of Brutus in an Ode, with all the enthusiasm of a votary of liberty. After the king’s return, when Cowley solicited some reward for his sufferings and services in the royal cause, the chancellor is said to have turned on him with a severe countenance, saying: “Mr. Cowley, your pardon is your reward.” All these causes evidently operated to incline Cowley to retirement; and accordingly he spent the last seven or eight years in his beloved obscurity, and possessed that solitude, which, from his very childhood, he had always most passionately desired. His works, especially his essays in prose and verse, abound with the praises of solitude and retirement. His three first essays are on the subjects of liberty, solitude, and obscurity; and most of the translations are of such passages from the classic authors, as display the pleasures of a country life, particularly Virgil’s “O fortunatos nimium, &c.” Horace’s “Beatns ille qui procui, &c.” Claudian’s “Old Man of Verona,” and Martial’s “Vitam quae faciunt beatiorem, &c.” But his solitude, from the very beginning, had never agreed so well with the constitution of his body, as of his mind. The chief cause of it was, that out of haste to be gone away from the tumult and noise of the town, he had not prepared so healthful a situation in the country as he might have done if he had made “a more leisureable choice. Of this he soon began to find the inconvenience at Barn-Elms, where he was afflicted with a dangerous and lingering fever. After that, he scarce ever recovered his former health, though his mind was restored to its perfect vigour; as may be seen, says Sprat, from his two last books of plants, which were written since that time, and may at least be compared with the best of his other works. Shortly after his removal to Chertsey, where he was disappointed of his expectations of finding a place of solitude and rural simplicity, he fell into another consuming disease; under which, having languished for some months, he seemed to be pretty well cured of its bad symptoms. But in the heat of the summer, by staying too long amongst his labourers in the meadows, he was taken with a violent defluxion and stoppage in his breast and throat. This he at first neglected as an ordinary cold, and refused to send for his usual physicians, till it was past all remedies; and so in the end, after a fortnight’s sickness, it proved mortal to him . He died at Chertsey, July 28, 1667, in his 49th year, in the house that has long been inhabited by an amiable and worthy magistrate, Richard Clark, esq. formerly alderman, sheriff, and lord mayor, and now chamberlain of London. Cowley was buried in Westminster-abbey, near Chaucer and Spenser, where a monument was erected to his memory, in May 1675, by George duke of Buckingham, with a Latin inscription by Dr. Sprat. When Charles II. heard of his death, he was pleased to say, IC that Mr. Cowley had not left a better man behind him in England.”

Besides his works already mentioned, we have of his, 1. “A proposition for the advancement of Experimental Philosophy;” and, 2. “A discourse, by way of vision, concerning the Government of Oliver Cromwell.” He had designed, also, a discourse concerning style, and a review of the principles of the primitive Christian church; but was prevented by death. A spurious piece, entitled the “Iron Age,” was published under his name, during his absence abroad; of which he speaks, in the preface to his poems, with some asperity and concern. “I wondered very much,” says he, “how one who could be so foolish to write so ill verses, should yet be so wise to set them, forth as another man’s, rather than his own; though perhaps he might have made a better choice, and not fathered the bastard upon such a person, whose stock of reputation is, I fear, little enough for the maintenance of his own numerous legitimate offspring of that kind. It would have been much less injurious, if it had pleased the author to put forth some of my writings under his own name, rather than his own under mine. He had been in that a more pardonable plagiary, and had done less wrong by robbery, than he does by such a bounty; for nobody can be justified by the imputation even of another’s merit, and our own coarse clothes are like to become us better than those of another man’s, though never so rich. But these, to say the truth, were so beggarly, that I myself was ashamed to wear them.”

“After so much criticism on his poems, the essays which accompany them must not be forgotten. What is said by Sprat of his conversation, that no man could draw from it any suspicion of his excellence in poetry, may be applied to these compositions. No author ever kept his verse and his prose at a greater distance from each other. His thoughts are natural, and his style has a smooth and placid equability, which has never yet obtained its due commendation. Nothing is far-sought, or hard-laboured; but all is easy without feebleness, and familiar without grossness.” Of his poetry, Dr. Johnson subjoins that “it may be affirmed, without any encomiastic fervour, that he brought to his poetic labours a mind replete with learning, and that his passages are embellished with all the ornaments which books could supply; that he was the first who imparted to English numbers the enthusiasm of the greater ode, and the gaiety of the less; that he was qualified for sprightly sallies, and for lofty flights; that he was among those who freed translation from servility, and, instead of following his author at a distance, walked by his side; and that if he left versification yet improvable, he left likewise from time to time such specimens of excellence as enabled succeeding poets to improve it.”

Cowley’s poems for many years after his death enjoyed a large share of popularity. In 1707 a tenth edition was printed by Jacob Tonson, in 2 vols. 8vo, but exclusive of his Latin poems, which used to form a third. We recollect no subsequent edition, except those given in Dr. Johnson’s and other general collections. In 1772, the late Jbishop of Worcester, Dr. Hurd, published a selection from Cowley’s poems, in 2 small vols. which had the usual fate of selections, to be censured by those critics who thought they could have made a better; nor indeed did it ever become a popular book.

, an ingenious and popular dramatic writer, the daughter of Mr. Philip Parkhouse, of Tiverton, in Devonshire, was born at that place in 1743. Her father was educated for holy orders, but a family loss depriving him of a certainty of provision in the church, he desisted from his first intention, and became a bookseller, as the nearest approach he could then prudently make to a life of some degree of literary enjoyment. He afterwards rose to be a member of the corporation of Tiverton, and was very highly respected as a man of talents and probity, and a good scholar. He was not very distantly related to the poet Gay, who recordshis visit to his relations in Devonshire in his “Journey to Exeter,” inscribed to the earl of Burlington. It was Mr. Parkhouse’s favourite aim to cultivate the promising talents of his daughter, and he lived to witness the reputation she acquired almost to the last period of her literary career. In her twenty -fifth year she was married to Mr. Cowley, a man of very considerable talents, who died in 1797, a captain in the East India company’s service. It was when he was with his regiment in India that she dedicated her comedy of “More Ways than One” to him, in the affectionate lines prefixed to it; and it was to this gentleman’s brother, an eminent merchant of London, now living, that “The Fate of Sparta” is dedicated with so much feeling.

Her acquaintance with the stage was sudden, and apparently accidental. Sitting with her husband at one of the theatres some time in 1776, she expressed to him a notion that she could write as well as the author of the performance before them, and next morning sketched the first act of “The Runaway,” which she so speedily completed, and with such success, as to establish her fame completely. Having now fairly embarked, she improved her vantage ground, and continued to write from time to time those pieces which are now published in the new edition of her works, all of which were received with approbation, and some, as the “Belle’s Stratagem,” were soon ranked among the best stock pieces, and still preserve their original attraction. In all, with considerable elegance and variety of style, she combines that happy observation of natural life and manners which furnishes well discriminated characters, and apposite humour and satire, free from the unreal exaggerations of imagination. Her fables too, with one exception', are original, and sufficiently intricate for the purposes of stage effect.

Those around Mrs. Cowley, we are told, perceived with surprize, that she had none of the vanity of being thought a literary lady; her conversation was never literary; nor did she indulge or solicit correspondence for the sake of publicity. Her reading lay more in books of travels, or of history, than in works of imagination. Of her own works she appears to have been regardless after they had once passed through her hands: and what is more remarkable, she had very little pleasure in theatrical representations; successive years elapsed without her being at a theatre once; and she never witnessed a first performance of any of her own plays. Her more solid pleasure was in domestic life, in superintending the education of her children. Her residence, which had been chiefly in London from the time of her marriage, she exchanged for Tiverton, the place of her birth, where she passed the last eight years of her life. She died there March 11, 1809. Her dramatic and poetical works, with the addition of some unpublished poems, were collected into three vofumes 8vo, in 1813: to these is prefixed a tribute to her memory, both affectionate and just.

, bishop of Galloway, was born at Edinburgh in 1566, and at eight years old was sent by his father to the school of Dunbar, where he made great proficiency in grammar-learning, and evinced a pious disposition, which adhered to him throughout life. Five years after he studied at the university of St. Andrew’s, but made less progress in philosophy than in divinity, to which he was particularly attached. On his return home in 1582, his parents recommended various pursuits, hut his inclination still being to that of divinity, he resolved to go to England, in which, as he informs us, lie arrived but scantily provided; yet just as he had spent the little money he brought with him, he was engaged as an assistant teacher with a Mr. Guthrie, who kept a school at Hoddesden, in Hertfordshire. There he remained three quarters of a year, and having occasion to go to London, was hospitably received by the famous Hugh Broughton, who assisted him for the space of a year and a half in his theological studies. At the age of nineteen he returned to Edinburgh, was admitted into the church, and appointed to preach at the parish of Bothkenner in Stirlingshire. When he arrived at this his first charge, he found a church almost in ruins, without roof, doors, pulpit, pews, of windows, yet such was the effect of his labours, that in less than half a year, the parishioners bestowed a complete repair on the church, with suitable ornaments. From this place, in about eight years, he was removed to Perth, where he continued to preach for nineteen years, not only on the Sundays, but every Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday evening. About the close of this period he was appointed by king James, on the recommendation of some prelates whom his majesty consulted, to be bishop of Galloway, in which see he continned until his death, Feb. 15, 1619, at which time he was also dean of the Chapel Royal. His works were afterwards collected and published at London in one volume folio, 1629, consisting of treatises on various parts of scripture, many of which were originally delivered as sermons, and left by him in a fit state for the press They breathe, says a recent writer, a spirit of cordial piety, and if we consider the time and country of the writer, the simplicity and strength of his style maybe thought peculiarly worthy of commendation. He introduces several of his religious treatises with a variety of dedicatory epistles, which shew that his ardent devotion was united to great elegance of manners. He appears to have been familiar with many illustrious persons of his time, and there is a sonnet prefixed to his commentary on the Revelation, by that adjrurable Scotch poet, Drummond of Hawthornden.

, earl Cowper, lord high chancellor of Great Britain, was descended from an ancient family, and son to sir William Cowper, baronet, and member of parliament for the town of Hertford in the reigns of Charles II. and William III. He is supposed to have been born in the castle of Hertford, of which his family had been a considerable time in possession; but of the place or time of his birth, or where he was educated, we have not been able to obtain any certain information. It appears, however, that he made so great a proficiency in the study of the law, that, soon after he was called to the bar, he was chosen recorder of Colchester, and in the reign of king William he was appointed one of his majesty’s council. In 1695 he was chosen one of the representatives in parliament for the town of Hertford, and on the day he took his seat had occasion to speak three times, with great applause. The following year he appeared as counsel for the crown on the trials of sir William Perkins, and others, who were convicted of high treason, for being concerned in the plot to assassinate king William. He was also counsel for the crown on the trial of captain Thomas Vaughan, for high treason on the high seas; and he likewise supported in parliament the bill of attainder against sir John Fenwick. In 1704, in a speech in the house of commons, in the famous case of Ashby and White, he maintained that an action did lie at common law, for an elector who had been denied his vote for members of parliament. His reputation continuing greatly to increase, on the accession of queen Anne he was again appointed one of the counsel to the crown; and on October 11, 1705, he was constituted lord keeper of the great seal of England. A few days after, queen Anne addressed both houses of parliament in a speech, which was well received, and which was said to be written by the new lord keeper.

1619, 4to. Fuller’s Abel Redivivus. Clarke’s Ecclesiastical History, p. 445. Hayley’s life of Cowper, To!. I. p. '2. 8vo edit. Mr. Hayley thinks it not improbable that he may have been an ancestor of the poet. waited upon the queen at St. James’s with the articles agreed upon between the commissioners, as the terms upon which the union was to take place, and made a speech to her majesty on the occasion. The articles of union, agreed upon by the commissioners, with some few alterations, were afterwards ratified by the parliaments both of England and Scotland. The lord-keeper had a very considera^le hand in this measure, and in consideration of that, and his general merit and services, he was advanced, Nov^ 9, 1706, to the dignity of a peer, by the style and title of lord Cowper, baron Cowper of Wingham in Kent; and on May 4, 1707, her majesty in council declared him lord high chancellor of Great Britain. In 1709, in consequence of the intrigues of Harley and Mrs. Masham, the earl of Sunderland, son-in-law to the duke of Marlborough, was removed from the office of secretary of state; and it being apprehended that this event would give disgust to that great general, and perhaps induce him to quit the command of the army, a joint letter was sent to his grace by lord Cowper, the dukes of Newcastle and Devonshire, and other noblemen, in which they conjured him in the strongest terms, not to quit his command. But soon after, on the 8th of August, 1710, the earl of Godolphin being removed from the post of lord-treasurer, the other whig ministers resigned with spirit and dignity. Lord Cowper, in particular, behaved with unexampled firmness and honour, rejecting with scorn the overtures which Harley, the new favourite, made to induce him to continue. When he waited on the queen to resign, she strongly opposed his resolution, and returned the seals three times after he had laid them down. At last, when she could not prevail, she commanded him to take them ' adding, “I beg it as a favour of you, if I may use that expression.” Cowper could not refuse to obey her commands: but, after a short pause, and taking up the seals, he said that he would not carry them out of the palace except on the promise, that the surrender of them would be accepted on the morrow: and on the following day his resignation was accepted. This singular contest between her majesty and him lasted three quarters of an hour.

Soon after the new ministry came into office, Mr. Harley being at the head of the treasury, some inquiries were set on foot in order to criminate the late administration; and a vote of censure was passed relative to the management of the war in Spain. Lord Cowper took an active part in the debates occasioned by these inquiries, joining in several protests against the determinations of the house of peers concerning the conduct of that war. When prince Eugene was in England, he is said to have been consulted about some dangerous schemes formed by that prince and the duke of I\iarlborough. It may reasonably be questioned, whether any such schemes were ever really formed by those great men; but it is allowed on all hands, that they received no countenance or approbation from lord Cowper. The general opposition, however, which he gave to the administration of the earl of Oxford, occasioned him to be attacked by dean Swift with much virulence in the Examiner; and some reflections were thrown out against him relative to his private character, which is said to have been somewhat licentious with respect to women. In reply to Swift, his lordship wrote “A Letter to Isaac Bickerstaff, occasioned by a Letter to the Examiner,” 1710, which was printed in lord, Somers’s Tracts, vol. IV.

As a public man, he continued to adhere steadfastly to the whigsj and when a debate took place relative to the Catalans, on the 2d of April, 1714, it was observed by lord Cowper, and others, that the crown of Great Britain having drawn in the Catalans to declare for the house of Austria, and engaged to succour and support them, those engagements ought to have been made good and lord Cowper moved for an address to her majesty, importing, “That her majesty’s endeavours for preserving to the Catalans the full enjoyment of their liberties, having proved ineffectual, their lordships made it their humble request to her majesty, that she would be pleased to continue her interposition, in the most pressing manner, in their behalf.” An address to this purpose, though with some alterations, was afterwards agreed to; but to which the queen returned a very evasive answer. Lord Cowper strongly opposed giving any parliamentary approbation to the peace of Utrecht, and in all respects endeavoured to thwart the measures of administration, which he did, however, with more ability than success. Among other occasions, he spoke warmly against the schism bill, and joined in a protest against it, with twenty-six other peers, and five bishops; yet in ths subsequent reign, when the act was repealed, he opposed the bill brought in on that occasion, because it contained some clauses, which in his opinion too much interfered with the test and corporation acts.

On the demise of queen Anne, lord Cowper was nominated one of the lords justices of the kingdom, till the arrival of king George I. from Hanover. On the 29th of August, 1714, he was appointed lord chancellor of Great Britain; and shortly after lord lieutenant and custos rotulorum of the county of Hertford. When a new parliament was assembled, on the 27th of March, 1715, George I. declared from the throne, “That he had ordered the lord chancellor to declare the causes of calling this parliament in his majesty’s name and words.” He then delivered his speech into lord Cowper’s hands, who read it to both houses. On the 6th of February, 1716, his lordship was appointed lord high-steward for the trial of the rebel lords; as he was also, the following year, at the trial of the earl of Oxford, to whom he behaved on that occasion with great politeness. A change taking place in the ministry in the beginning of March 1718, lord Cowper resolved to resign the great seal; but, before his resignation, the king, on account of his great merit and services, on the 18th of that month, raised him to the dignity of a viscount and earl, by the title of viscount Fordwich, in the county of Kent, and earl Cowper. The preamble to his patent was drawn up by Mr. Hughes the poet, whom he had patronized. He resigned the great seal in the month of April, and was succeeded by lord Parker.

After his resignation, lord Cowper diligently attended in the house of peers, and frequently opposed the measures of the court, particularly the peerage bill, and the famous South-sea scheme. When a motion was made, that the South-sea bill should be referred to a committee of the whole house, he observed, “That, like the Trojan horse, the bill was ushered in, and received with great pornp and acclamations of joy, but it was contrived for treachery and destruction.” He advanced a variety of arguments against the bill, but it was carried by a large majority, and was productive of great national evils. Lord Cowper also opposed a bill “for the more effectual suppressing of blasphemy and profaneness;” by which persons were to be subjected to penalties, who denied the doctrine of the Trinity, or the inspiratioa of the scriptures; and by which any preachers, who should deny any of “the fundamental articles of the Christian religion,” were to be deprived of the benefit of the act of toleration. This bill did not pass. On the 13th of December, 1721, he endeavoured to procure the repeal of so much of an act, which had passed the preceding session, relative to the plague, as gave a power to remove to a lazaretto, or pest-house, any persons whatsoever infected with the plague, or ‘healthy persons out of an infected family, from their habitations, though distant from any other dwelling; and also so much of the said act, as gave’ power for drawing lines or trenches round any city, town, or place infected: but he was unsuccessful, and indeed his conduct in this affair seems to have proceeded from too fastidious a regard for the liberty of the subject, which never could be endangered by a measure for the preservation of health. He was yet more unfortunate in signing a protest against the rejection of the bill for the better securing the freedom of election of members to serve for the commons in parliament, which was also signed by twenty-three lay-lords, and two bishops, and gave so much offence, that a vote was passed for expunging it from the Journals. Omitting the other parliamentary proceedings in which his lordship took a part, we must now advert to a circumstance in which he was personally concerned. In the year 1723, Christopher Layer, who had been convicted of high treason, underwent a long examination before a secret committee of the house of commons, relative to a conspiracy for raising the pretender to the throne; in the course of which he mentioned a club of disaffected persons, of which, he said, John Plunket had told him, that lord Cowper was one. This occasioned his lordship to remark in the house of peers, that after having on so many occasions, and in the most difficult times, given undoubted proofs of his hearty zeal and affection for the protestant succession, and of his attachment to his majesty’s person and government, he had just reason to be offended, to see his name bandied about in a list of a chimerical club of disaffected persons, printed in the report of the secret committee, on the bare hearsay of an infamous person, notoriously guilty of prevarication; and who, in the opinion even of the secret committee, “in order to magnify the number of the pretender’s friends, did, in several lists, insert the names of persons as well affected to the pretender’s service, without having the least authority for so doing:” which alone was sufficient to give an air of fiction to the whole conspiracy. But, in justice to his own character, he thought it necessary to move, that John Plunket, from whom Layer pretended to have received the list of the club, mentioned in the report of the committee, should be immediately sent for to the bar of that house, to be there examined. This motion, alter some debate, was rejected by the majority; and it was observed by lord Townshend, that as the secret committee had declared, that they were entirely satisfied of lord Cowper’s innocence, his lordship’s reputation could not have suffered. Lord Cowper, however, thought proper to make a public declaration of his innocence, which is inserted in the Historical Register for 1723.

On the 15th of May this year, earl Cowper made a long speech in the house of peers, in opposition to the bill for inflicting pains and penalties on bishop Atterbury. He urged a variety of arguments to shew, that the evidence against the bishop was extremely insufficient; and he pointed out the danger of such a precedent, as that of inflicting pains and penalties on a man without law, and without proper evidence against him. His lordship strongly objected to the distinction that had been made in the debate, between real evidence, anci legcl evidence; and maintained, that the law required only such real and certain proof, as ought in natural justice and equity, to be received. The last public transaction, in which we find earl Cowper engaged, was opposing the bill for taxing the papists; which he represented as an impolitic and indefensible measure; and when it passed, earl Cowper, and several other lords, signed a protest against it. His lordship lived but a few months after; for he died at his seat at Colne-green, in Hertfordshire, on the 10th of October, 1723; and on the 19th of that month, he was interred in Hertingfordbury church, in the same county.

The eloquence and abilities of earl Cowper were highly celebrated ii> his own time he made a very conspicuous figure at the bar he was a distinguished member of both houses of parliament; his general character as a public man appears to have been entitled to high praise, from which, perhaps, in our days, it will be thought no deduction that he did not always act with the independence which rejects party connections and views. But in his conduct in the court of chancery he displayed great disinterestedness. He opposed the frequency and facility with which private bills passed in parliament; and refused the new year’s gifts, which it had been customary to present to those who held the great seal. Mr. Tindal, who had an opportunity of knowing him, says that he “was eminent for his integrity in the discharge of the office of lord chancellor, which he had twice filled. There may have been chancellors of more extensive learning, but none of more knowledge in the laws of England. His judgment was quick, and yet solid. His eloquence manly, but flowing. His manner graceful and noble.” Lord Chesterfield, in his Letters to his Son, represents earl Cowper as more distinguished, as a speaker, by the elegance of his language, and the gracefulness of his manner, than by the force of his arguments; that his strength as an orator lay by no means in his reasoning, for he often hazarded very weak ones. “But such was the purity and elegancy of his style, such the propriety and charms of his elocution, and such the gracefulness of his action, that he never spoke without universal applause. The ears and the eyes gave him up the hearts and the understanding of the audience.”

Earl Cowper was one of the governors of the Charterhouse, and a fellow of the royal society. He was twice married. By his first wife, Judith, who was daughter and heiress of sir Robert Booth, of London, knight, he had one son, who died young. Mary, his second wife, who did not long survive him, was daughter of John Clavering, esq. of Chopwell, in the bishopric of Durham. By this lady he had issue two sons and two daughters. His eldest son, William, succeeded him in his titles and estate; and his second son, Spencer, became dean of Durham. His eldest daughter, lady Sarah Cowper, who is said to have been “distinguished for her sense and accomplishments,” died unmarried in 1758. His. youngest, lady Anne, was married in 1731 to James Edward Colleton, esq. of Hayneshill in Berkshire, and died in 1750.

William, the second earl Cowper, was twice married; in 1732, to lady Henrietta, youngest daughter and coheir of Henry D'Auverquerque earl of Grantham; and in 1750, to lady Georgina, daughter to earl Granville, and widow of the hon. John Spencer, esq. by whom she was mother of John earl Spencer. By lady Georgina, lord Cowper had no issue; but by his first countess, who died in 1747, he was father of George Nassau, third earl Cowper, who died at Florence in 1789, and was succeeded by his son George Augustus, who also dying in 1799, was* succeeded by Leopold Louis Francis, his brother, the present and fifth earl Cowper.

, D. D. was the second son of the lord high chancellor Cowper, and was born in London in 1713, and educated at Exeter college, Oxford, where he took his degrees, M. A. 1734, and B. and D. D. by diploma 1746. 'Having entered early in life into orders, he obtained the rectory of Fordwich, Kent, and a prebend of Canterbury, which he resigned for the deanery of Durham, which he held till his death, March 25, 1774. He published, 1. “A Speech at the installation of the bishop of Durham,” 1752, 4to. 2. “A Spital Sermon,” 1753, 4to. 3. “Eight Discourses,” 1773, 8vo, and two other occasional Sermons.

, a very distinguished modern English poet, and one whose singular history will apologize for the length of the present article, was the descendant of an ancient and honourable family. His father was the second son of Spencer Cowper (a younger brother of the lord chancellor Cowper) who was appointed chief justice of Chester in 1717, and afterwards a judge in the court of common pleas. He died in 1728, leaving a daughter, Judith, a young lady who had a striking taste for poetry, and who married colonel Madan, and transmitted her poetical taste and devotional spirit to a daughter. This daughter was married to her cousin major Cowper, and was afterwards the friend and correspondent of our poet. His father, John Cowper, entered into the church, and became rector of Great Berkhamstead in Hertfordshire. He married Anne, the daughter of Roger ponne, esq. of Ludlam-hall in Norfolk, by whom he had several children who died in their infancy, and two sons,William and John, who survived their mother. William was born at Berkhamstead Nov. 26, 1731, and from his infancy appears to have been of a very delicate habit both of mind and body. To such a child the loss of a mother is an incalculable misfortune, and must have been particularly so to young Cowper. In his biographer’s opinion, it contributed in the highest degree to the dark colouring of his subsequent life. Undoubtedly when a child requires a more than ordinary share of attention, the task can seldom be expected to be performed with so much success as by a mother, who to her natural affection joins that patience and undisturbed care which are rarely to be found in a father: but at the same time it may be remarked, that Cowper’s very peculiar frame of mind appears to have been independent of any advantages or misfortunes in education. In 1737, the year of his mother’s death, he was sent to a school at Market-street in Hertfordshire, under the conduct of Dr. Pitman, but was removed from it, at what time is uncertain, on account of a complaint in his eyes for which he was consigned to the care of a female oculist for the space of two years. It does not, however, appear that he profited so much from her aid as from the small-pox, which seized him at the age of fourteen, and removed the complaint for the present, but left a disposition to inflammation, to which he was subject nearly the whole of his life.

At Market-street, as well as at Westminster-school, to which he was now removed, he is reported to have suffered much from the wanton tyranny of his school-fellows, who with the usual unthinking cruelty of youth, triumphed over the gentleness and timidity of his spirit. As he informs us, however, that he “excelled at cricket and foot-ball,” he could not have been wholly averse from joining in youthful sports, yet the preponderance of uneasiness from the behaviour of his companions was such, that in his advanced years he retained none but painful recollections of what men in general remember with more pleasure than any other period of their lives. And these recollections no doubt animated his pen with more than his usual severity in exposing the abuses of public schools, to which he uniformly prefers a domestic education. This subject has since been discussed by various pens, and the conclusion seems to be, that the few instances which occur of domestic education successfully pursued are strongly in its favour where it is practicable, but that from the occupations and general state of talents in parents, it can seldom be adopted, and is continually liable to be interrupted by accidents to which public schools are not exposed. In the case of Cowper, a public school might have been judiciously recommended to conquer his constitutional diffidence and shyness, which, it was natural to suppose, would have been increased by a seclusion from boys of hi* owu

He left Westminster-school in 1749, at the age of eighteen, and was articled to Mr. Chapman, an attorney, for the space of three years. This period he professed to employ in acquiring a species of knowledge which he was never to bring into use, and to which his peculiarity of disposition must have been averse. We are not told whether he had been consulted in this arrangement, but it was probably suggested as that in which his family interest might avail him. His own account may be relied on. “I did actually live three years with Mr. Chapman, a solicitor, that is to say, I slept three years in his house, but I lived, that is to say, I spent my days in Southampton-row, as you very well remember. There was I, and the future lord chancellor (Thurlow), constantly employed from morning to night in giggling and making giggle, instead of studying the law.” Yet with this apparent gaiete de caur, and with every advantage, natural and acquired, that bade fair for his advancement in public life, he was kept back by an extreme degree of modesty and shyness from all intercourse with the world, except the society of a few friends, who knew how to appreciate his character, and among whom he found himself without restraint. The loss of a friend and of a mistress appears, among other adversities, to have aggravated his sufferings at this time, and to have strengthened that constitutional melancholy which he delighted to paint, and which, it is to be feared, he loved to indulge.

When he had fulfilled the terms of his engagement in Mr. Chapman’s office, he entered the Temple with a view to the further study of the law, a profession that has been more frequently deserted by men of lively genius than any other. Cowper was destined to add another instance to the number of those who, under the appearance of applying to an arduous and important study, have employed their time in the cultivation of wit and poetry. He is known to have assisted some contemporary publications with essays in prose and verse, and what is rather more extraordinary, in a man of his purity of conduct, cultivated the acquaintance of Churchill, Thornton, Lloyd, and Colman, who had been his schoolfellows at Westminster. It is undoubtedly to Churchill and Lloyd, that he alludes in a letter to lady Hesketh, dated Sept. 4, 1765. “Two of my friends have been cut off during my illness, in the midst of such a life as it is frightful to reflect upon; and here am I, in better health and spirits than I can almost remember to have enjoyed before, after having spent months in the apprehension of instant death. How mysterious are the ways of Providence! Why did I receive grace and mercy? Why was I preserved, afflicted for my good, received, as I trust, into favour, and blessed with the greatest happiness I can ever know, or hope for, in this life, while these were overtaken by the great arrest, unawakened, unrepenting, and every way unprepared for it?”

About the period alluded to, he assisted Colman with, some papers for the Connoisseur, and probably Thornton and Lloyd, who then carried on various periodical undertakings, but the amount of what he wrote cannot now be ascertained, and was always so little known, that on the appearance of his first volume of poems, when he had reached his fiftieth year (1782), he was considered as a new writer. But his general occupations will best appear in an extract from one of his letters to Mr. Park in 1792. “From the age of twenty to thirty-three (when he left the Temple) I was occupied, or ought to have been, in the study of the law from thirty-three to sixty, I have spent my time in the country, where my reading has been only an apology for idleness, and where, when I had not either a magazine or a review, I was sometimes a carpenter, at others a bird-cage maker, or a gardener, or a drawer of landscapes. At fifty years of age I commenced an author; it is a whim that has served me longest, and best, and will probably be my last.” His first poetical effort was a translation of an elegy of Tibullus, made at the age of fourteen; at eighteen, he wrote the beautiful verses “On finding the heel of a Shoe;” but as little more of his juvenile poetry has been preserved, all the steps of his progress to that perfection which produced the “Task,” cannot now be traced.

Unfit as he was, from extreme diffidence, to advance in his profession, his family interest procured him a situation which seemed not ill adapted to gratify his very moderate ambition, while it did not much interfere with his reluctance to public life. In his 34th year he was nominated to the offices of reading clerk and clerk of the private committees of the house of lords. But in this arrangement his friends were disappointed. It presented to his the formidable danger of reading in public, which was next to speaking in public: his native modesty, therefore, recoiled at the thought, and he resigned the office. On this his friends procured him the place of clerk of the journals to the house of lords, the consequence of which is thus related by Mr. Hayley: “It was hoped, from the change of his station, that his personal appearance in parliament might not be required; but a parliamentary dispute made it necessary for him to appear at the bar of the house of lords, to entitle himself publicly to the office. Speaking of this important incident in a sketch, which he once formed himself, of passages in his early life, he expresses what he endured at the time, in these remarkable words: ‘ They, whose spirits are formed like mine, to whom a public exhibition of themselves is mortal poison, may have some idea of the horrors of my situation; others can have none.’ His terrors on this occasion arose to such an astonishing height, that they utterly overwhelmed his reason: for although he had endeavoured to prepare himself for his public duty, by attending closely at the office for several months, to examine the parliamentary journals, his application was rendered useless by that excess of diffidence, which made him conceive, that, whatever knowledge he might previously acquire, it would all forsake him at the bar of the house. This distressing apprehension increased to such a degree, as the time for his appearance approached, that when the day, so anxiously dreaded, arrived, he was unable to make the experiment. The very friends who called on him for the purpose of attending him to the house of lords acquiesced in the cruel necessity of his relinquishing the prospect of a station so severely formidable to a frame of such singular sensibility. The conflict between the wishes of just affectionate ambition, and the terrors of diffidence, so entirely overwhelmed his health and faculties, that after two learned and benevolent divines (Mr. John Cowper, his brother, and the celebrated Mr. Martin Madan, his first cousin), had vainly endeavoured to establish a lasting tranquillity in his mind, by friendly and religious conversation, it was found necessary to remove him to St. Alban’s, where he resided a considerable time, under the care of that eminent physician Dr. Cotton.”

The period of his residence here was from Dec. 1763 to July 1764, and the mode of his insanity appears to have been that of religious despondency; but this, about the last-mentioned date, gave way to more cheering views, which first presented themselves to his mind during a perusal of the third chapter of St. Paul’s Epistle to the Romans. After his recovery from this awful visitation, he determined to retire from the busy world altogether, finding his mind alienated from the conversation and company^ however select, in which he had hitherto delighted, and looking back with particular horror on some of his former associations: and by the advice of his brother, the Rev. John Cowper, of Bene‘t-college, Cambridge, he removed to a private lodging in Huntingdon. He had not, however, resided long in this place, before he was introduced into a family that had the honour, for many years, of administering to his happiness, and of evincing a warmth of friendship of which there are few examples. This intercourse was begun by Mr. Cawthorn Unwin, a young man, a student of Cambridge, and son to the rev. Mr. Unwin, rector of Grimston, and at this time a resident at Huntingdon. Mr. Unwin the younger was one day so attracted by Cowper’ s uncommon and interesting appearance, that he attempted to solicit his acquaintance; and achieved this purpose with such reciprocity of delight, that Cowper was finally induced to take up his abode with his new friend’s amiable family, which then consisted of the rev. Mr. Unwin, Mrs. Unwin, the son, just mentioned, and a daughter. It appears to have been about the month of September 1765 that he formed this acquaintance, and about February 1766 he became an inmate in the family. In July 1767, Mr. Unwin senior was killed by a fall from his horse. The letters which Mr. Hayley has published describe, in the clearest light, the singularly peaceful ajid devout life of the amiable writer, during his residence at Huntingdon, and this melancholy accident, which occasioned his removal to a distant county.

About this time he added to the number of his friends the late venerable and pious John Newton, rector of St. Mary Woolnoth, London, but then curate of Olney in Buckinghamshire, who being consulted by Mr. Cowper as to an eligible residence for Mrs. Unwin, recommended a house at Olney, to which that lady, her daughter, and our poet, removed on the 14th of October 1767. At this residence, endeared to them by the company and public services of a man of congenial sentiments, Cowper for some years continued to enjoy those blessings of a retired and devotional life, which had constituted his only happiness since his recovery. His correspondence at this aera evinces a placid train of sentiment, mixed with an air of innocent gaiety, that must have afforded the highest satisfaction to his friends. Among other pleasures, of the purest kind, he delighted in acts of benevolence; and as he was not rich, he had the additional felicity of being employed as an almoner in the secret benevolences of that most charitable of all human heings, the late John Thornton, esq. an opulent merchant of London, whose name he has immortalized in his poem on charity, and in some verses on his death, which Mr. Hayley first published. Mr. Thornton statedly allowed Mr. Newton the sum of 200l. per annum, for the use of the poor of Olney, and it was the joint concern of Mr. Newton and Mr. Cowper to distribute this sum in the most judicious and useful manner. Such a bond of union could not fail to increase their intimacy. “Cowper,” says Mr. Newton, “loved the poor; he often visited them in their cottages, conversed with them in the most condescending manner, sympathized with them, counselled and comforted them in their distresses; and those, who were seriously disposed, were often cheered and animated by his prayers.” Of their intimacy, the same writer speaks in these emphatic terms: “For nearly twelve years we were seldom separated for seven hours at a time, when we were awake and at home. The first six I passed in daily admiring, and aiming to imitate him: during the second six, I walked pensively with him in the valley of the shadow of death.” Among other friendly services about this time, he wrote for Mr. Newton some beautiful hymns, which the latter introduced in public worship, and published in a collection long before Cowper was known as a poet.

On these employments, Mr. Hayley passes the following opinion: Where the nerves are tender, and the imagination tremblingly alive, any fervid excess in the exercise of the purest piety, may be attended with such perils to corporeal and mental health, as men of a more firm and hardy fibre would be far from apprehending. Perhaps the life that Cowper led, on his settling at Olney, had a tendency to increase the morbid propensity of his frame, thcmgh it was a life of admirable sanctity." It appears however, by his letters, that this was the life of his choice, and that it was varied by exercise and rational amusements. How such a life could have a tendency to increase a morbid propensity, or what mode of life could have been contrived more likely to diminish that propensity, it is difficult to imagine.

From this period, his life affords little of the narrative kind, until 1773, when, in the language of his biographer, “he sunk into such severe paroxysms of religious despondency, that he required an attendant of the most gentle, vigilant, and inflexible spirit. Such an attendant he found in that faithful guardian (Mrs. Unwin), whom he had professed to love as a mother, and who watched over him, during this long fit of depressive malady, extended through several years, with that perfect mixture of tenderness and fortitude, which constitutes the inestimable influence of maternal protection. I wish to pass rapidly over this calamitous period, and shall only observe, that nothing could surpass the sufferings of the patient, or excel the care of the nurse. That meritorious care received from heaven the most delightful of all rewards, in seeing the pure and powerful mind, to whose restoration it has contributed so much, not only gradually restored to the common enjoyments of life, but successively endowed with new and marvellous funds of diversified talents and courageous application.” His recovery was slow; and he knew enough of his malady, to abstain from literary employment' while his mind was in any degree unsettled. The first amusement which engaged his humane affections was the laming of three hares, a circumstance that would have scarcely deserved notice unless among the memoranda of natural history, if he had not given to it an extraordinary interest in every heart, by the animated account he wrote of this singular family. In the mean time his friends, Mrs. Unwin and Mr. Newton, redoubled their efforts to promote his happiness, and to reconcile him to the world, in which he had yet a very important part to act; but as, in 1780, Mr. Newton was obliged to leave Olney, and accept of the living of St. Mary Woolnoth, London, he contrived to introduce Cowper to the friendship of the rev. Mr. Bull, of Newport Pagnell. This gentleman, who had many excellent qualities to recommend him as a fit successor to Mr. Newton, soon acquired the unreserved confidence of our author . It was at Mr. Bull’s request that he translated several spiritual songs from the French of Madame de la Mothe Guion , which have since been published separately. His recovery from this second illness may be dated from the summer of 1778, after which he began to meditate those greater exertions upon which his fame rests.

About this time he was advised to make application to lord Thurlow, who had been one of his juvenile companions, for some situation of emolument; but he declined this from motives of highly justifiable delicacy; intimating, that he had hopes from that quarter, and that it would be better not to anticipate his patron’s favours by solicitation. He afterwards sent a copy of his first volume of poems to his lordship, accompanied with a very elegant letter; and seems to murmur a little, on more occasions than one, at his lordship’s apparent neglect. A correspondence took place between them at a more distant period; but whether from want of a proper representation of his situation, or from forgetfulness, it is to be lamented that this nobleman’s interest was employed when too late for the purpose which Cowper’s friends hoped to promote. It will be difficult to impute a want of liberality to lord Thurlow, while his voluntary and generous offer to Dr. Johnson remains on record.

In the mean time, our author continued to amuse himself with reading such new books as his friends could procure, with writing short pieces of poetry, tending his tame hares and birds, and drawing landscapes, a talent which he discovered in himself very late in life, and which he employed with considerable skill. In all this, perhaps, there was not much labour, but it was not idleness. A short passage in one of his letters to the Rev. William Unwin, dated May 1780, will serve to make the distinction. “Excellence is providentially placed beyond the reach of indolence, that success may be the reward of industry, and that idleness may be punished with obscurity and disgrace. So long as I am pleased with an employment, I am capable of unwearied application, because my feelings are all of the intense kind: I never received a little pleasure from any thing in my life: if I am delighted, it is in the extreme. The unhappy consequence of this temperature is, that my attachment to any occupation seldom, outlives the novelty of it.”

Urged, however, by his amiable friend and companion Mrs, Unvvin, he employed the winter of 1780-1, in preparing his first volume of poems for the press, consisting of the Tabletalk, Hope, the Progress of Error, Charity, &c. But such was his diffidence in their success, that he appears to have been in doubt whether any bookseller would be willing to print them on his own account. He was fortunate enough, however, to find in Mr. Johnson, of St. Paul’s Churchyard (his friend Mr. Newton’s publisher), one whose spirit and liberality immediately set his mind at rest. The volume was accordingly completed, and Mr. Newton furnished the preface; a circumstance which his biographer attributes to “his extreme diffidence in regard to himself, and his kind eagerness to gratify the affectionate ambition of a friend whom he tenderly esteemed.” It was published in 1782.

The success of this volume was undoubtedly not equal to its merit; for, as his biographer has justly observed, “it exhibits such a diversity of poetical powers as have beep given very rarely indeed to any individual of the modern, or of the ancient world.” As an apology for the inattention of the public to a present of such value, Mr. Hayley has supposed that he gave offence by his bold eulogy on Whitefield, “whom the dramatic satire of Foote, in his comedy of the ‘ Minor,’ had taught the nation to deride as a mischievous fanatic;” and that he hazarded sentiments too precise and strict for public opinion. The character of Whitefield, however, had been long rescued from the impious buffooneries of Foote, and the public could now bear his eulogium with tolerable patience: but that there are austerities in these poems, which indicate the moroseBess of a recluse, Cowper was not unwilling to allow. Whether he softened them in the subsequent editions, his biographer has not informed us. It may be added, that the volume was introduced into the world without any of the quackish parade so frequently adopted, and had none of those embellishments by which the eye of the purchaser is caught, at the expence of his pocket. The periodical critics, whose opinions Cowper watched with more anxiety than could have been wished, in a man so superior to the common candidates for poetic fame, were divided; and even those who were most favourable, betrayed no extraordinary raptures. In the mean time, the work crept slowly into notice, and acquired the praise of those who knew the value of such an addition to our stock of English poetry.

Among other small pieces which he composed at the suggestion of lady Austen, was the celebrated ballad of “John Gilpin,” the origin of which Mr. Hayley thus relates “It happened one afternoon, that lady Austen observed him sinking into increasing dejection it was her custom, on these occasions, to try all the resources of her sprightly powers for his immediate relief. She told him the story of John Gilpin (which had been treasured in her memory from her childhood), to dissipate the gloom of the passing hour. Its effect on the fancy of Cowper had the air of enchantment: he informed her the next morning, that convulsions of laughter, brought on by his recollection of her story, had kept him waking during the greatest part of the night, and that he had turned it into a ballad.” Mrs. Unwin sent it to the Public Advertiser, where the late Mr. Henderson, the player, first saw it, and conceiving it might display his comic powers, read it at Freemasons’ ­hall, in a course of similar entertainments given by himself and Mr. Thomas Sheridan. It became afterwards extremely popular among all classes of readers, but was not generally known to be Cowper 1 s, until it was added to his second volume.

The public was soon laid under a far higher obligation to lady Austen for having suggested our author’s principal poem, “The Task,' 1” a poem,“says Mr. Hayley,” of such infinite variety, that it seems to include every subject, and every style, without any dissonance or disorder; and to have flowed without effort, from inspired philanthropy, eager to impress upon the hearts of all readers, whatever may lead them most happily to the full enjoyment of human life, and to the final attainment of Heaven.“This admirable poem appears to have been written in 1783 and 1784, but underwent many careful revisions. The public had iiot done much for Cowper, but he had too much regard for it and for his own character, to obtrude what was incorrect, or might be made better. It was his opinion, an opinion of great weight from such a critic, that poetry, in order to attain excellence, must be indebted to labour; and it was his correspondent practice to revise his poems with scrupulous care and severity. In a letter to his friend Air. Bull, on this poem, he says,” I find it severe exercise to mould and fashion it to my mind." Much of it was written in the winter, a season generally unfavourable to the author’s health, but there is reason to think that the encouragement and attentions of his amiable and judicious friends animated him to proceed, and that the regularity of his progress was favourable to his health and spirits. Disorders, like his, have been known to give way to some species of mental labour, if voluntarily undertaken, and pursued with steadiness. The Task rilled up many of those leisure hours, for which rural walks and employments would have amply provided at a more favourable season. It may be added, likewise, that no man appears to have had a more keen relish for the snugness of a winter fireside, and that, free from ambition, or the love of grand and tumultuous enjoyments, his heart was elated with gratitude for those humbler comforts which a mind like his would be apt to magnify by reflecting on the misery of those who want them.

In November 1784, the “Task” was sent to the press, and he began the “Tirocinium,” the purport of which, in his own words, was “to censure the want of discipline, and the scandalous inattention to morals, that obtain in public schools, especially in the largest; and to recommend private tuition as a mode of education preferable on all accounts; to call upon fathers to become tutors of their own sons, where that is practicable; to take home a domestic tutor, where it is not; and if neither can be done, to place them under the care of some rural clergyman whose attention is limited to a few.”

In this year, when he was beginning his translation of Homer, the quiet and even tenour of his life was disturbed by the necessity he felt of parting with lady Austen. A short extract from Mr. Hayley will give this matter as clear explanation as delicacy can permit: “Delightful and advantageous as his friendship with lady Austen had proved, he now began to feel that it grew -impossible to preserve that triple cord, which his own pure heart had led him to suppose not speedily to be broken. Mrs. Unwin, though by no means destitute of mental accomplishments, was eclipsed by the brilliancy of the poet’s new friend, and naturally became uneasy, under the apprehension of being so, for to a woman of sensibility, what evil can be more afflicting, than the fear of losing all mental influence over a man of genius and virtue, whom she has long been accustomed to inspirit and to guide? Cowper perceived the painful necessity of sacrificing a great portion of his present gratifications. He felt, that he must relinquish that ancient friend, whom he regarded as a venerable parent; or the new associate, whom he idolized as a sister of a heart and mind peculiarly C9ngenial to his own. His gratitude for past services of unexampled magnitude and weight, would not allow him to hesitate: with a resolution and delicacy, that do the highest honour to his feelings, he wrote a farewell letter to lady Austen, explaining and lamenting the circumstances that forced him to renounce the society of a friend, whose enchanting talents and kindness had proved so agreeably instrumental to the revival of his spirits and to the exercise of his fancy. In those very interesting conferences with which I was honoured by lady Austen, I was irresistibly led to express an anxious desire for the sight of a letter written by Cowper, in a situation that must have called forth all the finest powers of his eloquence as a monitor and a friend. The lady confirmed me in my opinion that a more admirable letter could not be written; and had it existed at that time, I am persuaded from her noble frankness and zeal for the honour of the departed poet, she would have given me a oopy; but she ingenuously confessed, that in a moment of natural mortification, she burnt this very tender yet resolute letter. Had it been confided to my care, I am persuaded I should have thought it very proper for publication, as it displayed both the tenderness and the magnanimity of Cowper, nor could I have deemed it a want of delicacy towards the memory of lady Austen, to exhibit a proof, that animated by the warmest admiration of the great poet, whose fancy slie could so successfully call forth, she was willing to devote her life and fortune to his service and protection. The sentiment is to be regarded as honourable to the lady; it is still more honourable to the poet, that with such feelings as rendered him perfectly sensible of all lady Austen’s fascinating powers, he could return her tenderness with innocent gallantry, and yet resolutely preclude himself from her society when he could no longer enjoy it without appearing deficient in gratitude towards the compassionate and generous guardian of his sequestered life. No person can justly blame Mrs. Unwin for feeling apprehensive that Cowper’s intimacy with a lady of such extraordinary talents, might lead him into perplexities, of which he was by no means aware. This remark was suggested by a few elegant and tender verses, addressed by the poet to lady Austen, and shown to me by that lady. Those who were acquainted with the unsuspecting innocence, and sportive gaiety of Cowper, would readily allow, if they had seen the verses to which I allude, that they are such as he might have addressed to a real sister; but a lady only called by that endearing name, may be easily pardoned if she was induced by them to hope, that they might possibly be a prelude to a still dearer alliance. To me they appeared expressive of that peculiarity in his character, a gay and tender gallantry, perfectly distinct from arr-orous attachment. If the lady, who was the subject of the verses, had given them to me with a permission to print them, I should have thought the poet himself might have approved of their appearance, accompanied with such a commentary.”

Notwithstanding this interruption to his tranquillity, for such it certainly proved, although he was conscious that he had acted the part which was most honourable to him, he proceeded with the “Tirocinium,” and the other pieces which composed his second volume. These were published in 1785, and soon engaged the attention and admiration of the public, in a way that left him no regret for the cool reception and slow progress of his first volume. Its success also obtained for him another female friend and associate, lady Hesketh, his cousin, who had long been separated from him. Their intercourse was first revived by a correspondence, of which Mr. Hayley has published many interesting specimens, and says, with great truth, that Cowper’s letters “are rivals to his poems in the rare excellence of representing life and nature with graceful and endearing fidelity.” In explaining the nature of his situation to lady Hesketh, who came to reside at Olney in the month of June 1786, he informs her, that he had lived twenty years with Mrs. Unwin, to whose affectionate care it was owing that he lived at all; but that for thirteen of those years he had been in a state of mind which made all her care and attention necessary. He informs her at the same time that dejection of spirits, which may have prevented many a man from becoming an author, made him one. He found employment necessary, and therefore took care to be constantly employed. Manual occupations do not engage the mind sufficiently, as he knew by experience, having tried many. But composition, especially of verse, absorbs it wholly. It was his practice, therefore, to write generally three hours in a morning, and in an evening he transcribed. He read also, but less than he wrote, for bodily exercise was necessary, and he never passed a day without it. All this shews that Cowper understood his own case most exactly, and that he was not one of those melancholies who are said to give way to their disorder. No man could have discussed the subject with more perspicuity, or treated himself with more judgment. The returns of his malady, therefore, appear to have been wholly unavoidable, and wholly independent of his employments, whether of a religious or literary kind.

In October 1785, he had reached the twentieth book of his translation of Homer, although probably no part was finished as he could have wished. His stated number was forty lines each day, with transcription and revision. His immediate object was to publish the Homer by subscription, in order to add something to his income which appears to have been always scanty, and in this resolution he persisted, notwithstanding offers from his liberal bookseller far more advantageous than a subscription was then likely to have produced. He seems to have felt a certain degree of pleasure, not wholly unmixed, in watching the progress of his subscription, and the gradual accession of names known to the learned world, or dear to himself by past recollections.

During the composition of this work, he at first declined what he had done before, shewing specimens to his friends; and on this subject, indeed, his opinion seems to have undergone a complete change. To his friend Mr. Unwin, who informed him that a gentleman wanted a sample, he says, with some humour, “When I deal in wine, cloth, or cheese, I will give samples, but of verse, never. No consideration would have induced me to comply with the gentleman’s demand, unless he could have assured me, that h^s wife had longed.” From this resolution he afterwards departed in a variety of instances. He first sent a specimen, with the proposals, to his relation general Cowper; it consisted of one hundred and seven lines, taken from the interview between Priam and Achilles in the last book. This specimen fell into the hands of Mr. Fuseli, the celebrated painter, whose critical knowledge of Homer is universally acknowledged; and Cowper likewise agreed that if Mr. Maty, who then published a Review, wished to see a book of Homer, he should be welcome, and the first book and a part of the second were accordingly sent . Mr. Fuseli was afterwards permitted to revise the whole of the manuscript, and how well Cowper was satisfied in falling in with such a critic, appears (among other proofs of his high esteem) from the short character he gives of him in one of his letters: “For his knowledge of Homer, he has, I verily believe, no fellow.” Colman, likewise, his old companion, with whom he had renewed an epistolary intimacy, revised some parts in a manner which afforded the author much satisfaction, and he appears to have corrected the sheets for the press. With Maty he was less pleased, as his criticisms appeared “unjust, and in part illiberal.”

While thus intent on his Homer, he was enabled, by the kindness of lady Hesketh, to remove in November 1786, from Olney to Weston, about two miles distant, where the house provided for him was more sequestered and commodious. Here too he had access to the society of Mr. Throckmorton, a gentleman of fortune in that neighbourhood, whose family had for some time studied to add to his comforts in a manner the most delicate and affectionate. It is indeed not easy to speak of the conduct of Cowper’s friends in terms adequate to their merit, their kindness, sensibility, and judgment. Their attentions exceeded much of what we read, and perhaps all that we commonly meet with under the name of friendship. In the midst of these fair prospects, however, he lost his steady and beloved friend Mr. Unwin, who died in December of this year.

The translation of Homer, after innumerable interruptions, was sent to press about November 1790, and published on the first of July 1791, in two quarto volumes, the Iliad being inscribed to earl Gowper, his young kinsman, and the Odyssey to the dowager lady Spencer. Such was its success with the subscribers and non-subscribers that the edition was nearly out of print in less than six months. Yet after all the labour he had employed, and all the anxiety he felt for this work, it fell so short of the expectation formed by the public, and of the perfection which he hoped he had attained, that instead of a second edition, he began, at no long distance of time, what may be termed a new translation. To himself, however, his first attempt had been of great advantage, nor were any number of his years spent in more general tranquillity, than the five which he had dedicated to Homer. One of the greatest benefits he derived from his attention to this translation, was the renewed conviction that labour of this kind, although with intermissions, sometimes of relaxation, and sometimes of anxiety, was necessary to his health and happiness. And this conviction led him very soon to accede to a proposal made by his bookseller, to undertake a magnificent edition of Milton’s poetical works, the beauties of which had engaged his wonder at a very early period of life. These he was now to illustrate by notes, original and selected, and to translate the Latin and Italian poems, while Mr. Fuseli was to paint a series of pictures to be engraven by the first artists. To this scheme, when yet in its infancy, the public is indebted for the friendship which Mr. Hayley contracted with Cowper, and one of its happiest consequences, such a specimen of biography, minute, elegant, and highly instructive, as can seldom be expected.

Vol. X, Ee Hayley, with every inclination for an office so agreeable, and a partnership so honourable, still imagined that at this time he might render more essential service to the poet by an application to his more powerful friends. This delicate office was undertaken in consequence of what he had observed in Cowper on a late visit to Weston. “He possessed completely at this period,” says his biographer, “all the admirable faculties of his mind, and all the native tenderness of his heart but there was something indescribable in his appearance, which led me to apprehend, that without some signal event in his favour, to re-animate his spirits, they would gradually sink into hopeless dejection. The state of his aged and infirm companion (Mrs. Unwin) afforded additional ground for increasing solicitude. Her cheerful and beneficent spirit could hardly resist her own accumulated maladies, so far as to preserve ability sufficient to watch over the tender health of him, whom she had watched and guarded so long. Imbecility of body and mind must gradually render this tender and heroic woman unfit for the charge which she had so laudably sustained. The signs of such imbecility were beginning to be painfully visible; nor can nature present a spectacle more truly pitiable than imbecility in such a shape, eagerly grasping for dominion, which it knows neither how to retain, nor how to relinquish.”

For some time, however, the fears of Mr. Cowper’s affectionate friend appeared to be groundless. His correspondence after the departure of Mr. Hayley, in November, 1793, bespoke a mind considerably at ease, and even cheerful and active. From various circumstances, the scheme of publishing an edition of Milton appears to have been totally relinquished, and as his enthusiasm for this undertaking had abated, he expresses considerable satisfaction that he could devote the whole of his time to the improvement of his translation of Homer. A new scheme, more suitable to his original talents, had been suggested in 1791, by the rev. Mr. Buchanan, curate of Ravenstone, a man of worth and genius. This was a poem to be entitled “The Four Ages, or the four distinct periods, of Infancy, Youth, Manhood, and Old Age.” For some time our poet meditated with great satisfaction on this design, and probably revolved many of the subordinate subjects in his mind. It seems to have been particularly calculated for his powers of reflection, his knowledge of the human heart, and his exquisite talent for depicting life and manners; and it was intended likewise to unite the fascinations of the graphic art. Mr. Hayley has published a fragment of this work, imperfect as the author left it, but more than enough to make us regret that his situation and the situation of his aged companion soon forbade all hopes of its being executed .

In January 1794, he informed his friend Mr. Rose that he had just ability enough to transcribe, and that he wrote at that moment under the pressure of sadness not to be described. In the expressive language of his biographer, “his health, his comfort, and his little fortune, were perishing most deplorably.” Mrs. Unwin had passed into a state of second childhood, and something seemed wanting to cheer the mind of Cowper, if possible, against the prospect of decaying comforts and competence. Application was accordingly made to those who had it in their power to procure what so much merit must have dignified, a pension; but many months elapsed before effectual attention could be obtained. What power refused, however, was in some degree performed by friendship; lady Hesketh, with her accustomed benevolence of character, and with an affection of which the instances are very rare, removed to Weston, and became the tender nurse of the two drooping invalids, of Mrs. Unwin, who was declining by years and infirmities, and of Cowper, who, in April 1794, had relapsed into his worst state of mental inquietude.

At this time, in consequence of a humane and judicious letter from the rev. Mr. Greathead, of Newport-Pagnel, Mr. Hayley paid a visit to this house of mourning, but found his poor friend “too much overwhelmed by his oppressive malady to show even the least glimmering of satisfaction at the appearance of a guest, whom he used to receive with the most lively expressions of affectionate delight.” In this deplorable state he continued during Mr. Hayley’s visit of some weeks, and the only circumstance which contributed in any degree to cheer the hearts of the friends who were now watching over him, was the intelligence that his majesty had been pleased to confer upon him such a pension as would insure an honourable competence for his life. Earl Spencer was the immediate agent in procuring this favour, and it would no doubt have added to its value, had the object of it known that he was indebted to one, who of all his noble friends, stood the highest in his esteem. But he was now, and for the remainder of his unhappy life, beyond the power of knowing or acknowledging the benevolence in which his heart delighted. Mr. Hayley left him for the last time in the spring of 1794, and from that period till the latter end of July 1795, Cowper remained in a state of the deepest melancholy.

His removal from Weston now appeared to his friends a necessary experiment, to try what change of air and of objects might produce; and his young kinsman, the rev. Mr. Johnson, undertook to convey him and Mrs. Unwin from that place to North Tuddenham, in Norfolk, where they arrived in the beginning of August 1795, and resided till the 19th. Of Cowper’s state during this time, all that we are told is, that he exhibited some regret on leaving Weston, and some composure of mind during a conversation of which the poet Thomson was the subject. He was able also to bear considerable exercise, and on one occasion walked with Mr. Johnson to the neighbouring village of Mattishall, on a visit to his cousin Mrs. fiodhain. On surveying his own portrait, by Abbot, in the house of that lady, he clasped his hands in a paroxysm of pain, and uttered a vehement wish, that his present sensations might be such as they were when that picture was painted.

After this short residence at Tuddenham, Mr. Johnson conducted his two invalids to Mundsley, a village on the Norfolk coast, where they continued till October, but without deriving any apparent benefit from the sea-air. Some calm recollection of past scenes, however, returned, enough to prompt him to write a letter to Mr. Buchanan, inquiring after matters at Weston. But this was almost the last of his correspondence. In October, Mr. Johnson removed him and Mrs. Unwin to Dereham, which they left in November for Dunham Lodge, a house situated on high ground, in a park about four miles from Swaffam.

Here his affectionate kinsman endeavoured by various means to rouse in him an attention to literary or common subjects, such as might prevent his mind from preying on itself, and on some occasions appears to have succeeded in a small degree; but the recurrence of fixed melancholy was so frequent as to destroy the transient hopes which these promising appearances excited. In the following year, change of scene was again adopted, and not without such effect as justified the measure, even when all prospect of permanent advantage had vanished. In December 1796, death removed Mrs. Unwin by a change as tranquil as her decayed body and mind promised. Cowper, about an hour after her departure, looked at the corpse, but started suddenly away, with a broken sentence of passionate sorrow, and spoke of her no more. He was now in that state, and at that age, when grief is neither exasperated by memory, nor relieved by consolation; and was mercifully relieved from feelings which neither religion nor reason could any longer regulate.

His subsequent intervals of bodily health, few as they were, appear to have been attended with some return of attention to his favourite pursuits. His anxious and tender friend, Mr. Johnson, embraced such opportunities to lead him to take delight in the revision of his Homer, and from September 1797 to March 1799, he completed by snatches the revisal of the Odyssey. ' Of the returns of his disorder, he appears to have been sensible, and could describe it on its commencement, and before it totally overpowered his faculties. In a letter to lady Hesketh, dated Oct. 13, 1798, which Mr. Hayley has preserved, he describes himself as one to whom nature “in one day, in one minute, became an universal blank.” On this, his biographer notices the opinion of some of his friends! 1 that his disorder “arose from a scorbutic habit, which, when perspiration was obstructed, occasioned an unsearchable obstruction in the fine parts of his frame.”

At intervals he still wrote a few original verses, of which “The Cast-away,” his too favourite subject, was the last that came from his pen, but he amused himself occasionally with translations from Latin and Greek epigrams. His last effort of the literary kind, was an improved version of a passage in Homer, which he wrote at Mr. Hayley’s gestion, and which that gentleman received on the 31st of January, 1800. In the following month he exhibited all the symptoms of dropsy, which soon made a rapid progress. On April 25, about five in the afternoon, he expired so quietly that not one of his friends who were present perceived his departure, but from the awful stillness which succeeded.

On Saturday, May 3, he was buried in St. Edmund’s chapel in Dereham church, where lady Hesketh caused a marble tablet to be erected, with an elegant inscription by Mr. Hayley.

That such a man should have been doomed to endure a life of mental distraction, relieved by few intervals, will probably ever be the subject of wonder; but that wonder will not be removed by curious inquiries into the state of Cowper’s mind, as displaying circumstances that have never occurred before. Awful as his case was, and most deeply as it ever must be deplored, there was nothing singular in the dispensation, unless that it befell one of more than common powers of genius, and consequently excited more general sympathy. Mr. Hayley, who has often endeavoured to reason on the subject, seems to resolve it at last into a bodily disorder, a sort of scorbutic affection, which, when repelled, brought on derangement of more or less duration. It appears to the present writer, from a careful perusal of that instructive piece of biography, that Cowper from his infancy had a tendency to errations of mind; and without admitting this fact in some degree, it must seem extremely improbable that the mere dread of appearing as a reader in the house of lords should have brought on his first settled fit of lunacy. Much, indeed, has been said of his uncommon shyness and diffidence, and more, perhaps, than the history of his early life will justify. Shyness and diffidence are common to all young persons who have not been early introduced into company; and Cowper, who had not, perhaps, that advantage at home, might have continued to be shy when other boys are forward. But had his mind been, even in this early period, in a healthful state, he must have gradually assumed the free manners of an ingenuous youth, conscious of no unusual imperfection that should keep him back. At school, we are told, he was trampled upon by ruder hoys, who took advantage of his weakness, yet we find that he mixed in their amusements, which must in some degree have advanced him on a level with them; and what is yet more extraordinary, we find him for some years associating with men of more gaiety than pure morality admits, and sporting with the utmost vivacity and wildness with Thurlow and others, when it was natural to expect that he would have been glad to court solitude for the purposes of study, as well as for the indulgence of his habitual shyness, if indeed at this period it was so habitual as we are taught to believe.

Although, therefore, it be inconsistent with the common theories of mania, to ascribe his first attack to his aversion to the situation which was provided for him, or to the operation of delicacy or sensibility on a healthy mind, it is certain that at that time, and when, by his own account, he was an entire stranger to the religious system which he afterwards adopted, he was visited by the first attack of his disorder, which was so violent, and of such a length, as to put an end to all prospect of advancement in his profession. It is particularly incumbent on all who venerate the sound and amiable mind of Cowper, the clearness of his understanding, and his powers of reasoning, to notice the date and circumstances of this first attack, because it has been the practice with superficial observers, and professed infidels, who are now running down all the important doctrines of revealed religion, under the name of methodism, to ascribe Cowper' s malady to his religious principles, and his religious principles to the company he kept. But, important as it may be to repel insinuations of this kind, it is become less necessary since the publication of Mr. Hayley’s life, which affords the most complete vindication of Mr. Cowper’s friends, and decidedly proves that his religious system was no more connected with his malady than with his literary pursuits; that his malady continued to return without any impulse from either, and that no means of the most judicious kind were omitted by himself or his friends to have prevented the attack, if human means could have availed. With respect to his friends, there can be nothing conceived more consolatory to him who wishes to cherish a good opinion of mankind, than to contemplate Cowper in the midst of his friends, men and women exquisitely tender, kind, and disinterested, animated by the most pure benevolence towards the helpless and interesting sufferer, enduring cheerfully every species of fatigue and privation, to administer the least comfort to him, and sensible of no gratification but what arose from their success in prolonging and gladdening the life on which they set so high a value.

To add much to this sketch respecting the merit of Cowper as a poet, would be superfluous. After passing through the many trials which criticism has instituted, he remains, by universal acknowledgment, one of the first poets of the eighteenth century. Even without awaiting the issue of such trials, he attained a degree of popularity which is almost without a precedent, while the species of popularity which he has acquired is yet more honourable than the extent of it. No man’s works ever appeared with less of artificial preparation; no venal heralds proclaimed the approach of a new poet, nor told the world what it was to admire. He emerged from obscurity, the object of no patronage, and the adherent of no party. His fame, great and extensive as it is, arose from gradual conviction, and gratitude for pleasure received. The genius, the scholar, the critic, the man of the world, and the man of piety, each found in Cowper' s works something to excite their surprize and their admiration, something congenial with their habits and feelings, something which taste readily selected, and judgment decidedly confirmed. Cowper was found to possess that combination of energies which marks the comprehensive mind of a great and inventive genius, and to furnish examples of the sublime, the pathetic, the descriptive, the moral, and the satirical, so numerous, that nothing seemed beyond his grasp, and so original, that nothing reminds us of any former poet.

, a celebrated surgeon and anatomist, the youngest son of Richard Cowper of Hampshire, esq. was born in 1666, probably at Bishop’s Sutton, near Alresford in that county, where he lies interred. After a medical education, he practised in London, where his first work, “Myotomia reformata, or a new administration of all the Muscles of the Human Body,” was published in 1694, 8vo, and reprinted in a splendid folio, by Dr. Mead in 1724, several years after the death of the author, with an introductory discourse on muscular motion, and some additions; but the figares, although elegant, are said to be somewhat deficient in correctness. In 1697, the author published at Oxford, in folio, “The Anatomy of Human Bodies,” many of the plates of which were purchased by some London booksellers in Holland, and belonged to Bidloo’s anatomy. The dispute which this occasioned, we have already noticed (see Bidloo), and may now add that it terminated very little to Cowper’s credit. Bidloo complained of the theft to the royal society, and wrote a very severe pamphlet, entitled “Gul. Cowperus citatus coram tribunali.” Cowper, instead of acknowledging the impropriety of his conduct, published a virulent pamphlet, entitled “Vindiciae;” in which he endeavours to shew that they were not really Bidloo’s figures, but hacl been engraved by Swammerdam, and purchased by Bidloo from Swammerdam’s widow, a malicious charge which some subsequent writers have been malevolent enough to propagate and defend. Cowper has the merit of giving a description of some glands, seated near the neck of the bladder, which have obtained the name of Cowper’s mucous glands. He was also author of several communications to the royal society, on the subjects of anatomy and surgery, which are printed in their Transactions, and of some observations inserted in the “Anthropologia” of Drake. He is said to have ruined his constitution by severe labour and watchings, and was seized at first with an asthmatic complaint, and afterwards with the dropsy, of which he died March 8, 1709.

, M. D. and F. S. A. practised physic many years at Chester with great reputation. He published (without his name), 1. “A Summary of the Life of St. Werburgh, with a historical account of the images upon her shrine (now the episcopal throne) in the choir of Chester. Collected from ancient chronicles and old writers. By a citizen of Chester. Published for the benefit of the Charity -school, Chester,” 1749, 4to; butby this work, which he is said to have stolen from the Mss. of Mr. Stone, a great collector of antiquities respecting that church, he gained very little reputation. He was also author of “11 Penseroso: an evening’s contemplation in St. John’s churchyard, Chester. A rhapsody, written more than twenty years ago; and now (first) published, illustrated with notes historical and explanatory,” London, 1767, 4to, (addressed, under the name of M. Meanwell, to the rev. John Allen, M. A. senior fellow of Trinity college, Cambridge, and rector of Torporley in Cheshire); in which he takes a view of some of the most remarkable places around it, distinguished by memorable personages and events. He died Oct. 20, 1767, while he was preparing a memorial of his native city. He had also made collections for the county, which were left in the hands of his brother, an attorney near Chester, but consist of little more than transcripts from printed books and minute modern transactions, interweaving, with the history of the county and city, a great mass of other general history.

, a learned writer of the sixteenth century, was the second son of Laurence Cox, son of John Cox, of the city of Monmouth. His mother’s name was Elizabeth Willey. He was educated at Cambridge, where he took his bachelors degree in arts, but at what college is not known. In 1528 he went to Oxford, and was incorporated in the same degree in February 1529. He supplicated also for the degree of M. A. but it does not appear that he was admitted to it. About this time he became master of Reading school; and was living there, in great esteem, at the time when Fryth, the martyr, was first persecuted by being set in the stocks. Cox, who soon, discovered his merit by his conversation, relieved his wants, and out of regard to his learning, procured his release. In 1532 he published “The art or craft of Rhetoryke,” inscribed to Hugh Farington, abbot of Reading, in which he divides his subject into four parts, invention, judgment, disposition, and eloquence in speaking; but the present treatise is confined to the first. In 1540 he published tc Commentaries on William Lilly’s construction of the eight parts of speech,“which are mentioned in Dr. Ward’s edition of Lilly’s grammar; and, according to Wood, he translated from Greek into Latin,” Marcus Eremita de lege et spiritu;“and from Latin into English,” The paraphrase of St. Paul’s Epistle to Titus,“by Erasmus, with whom he was well acquainted. These, Wood says, were published in 1540, but by a ms note of Mr. Baker, we are told, that the paraphrase of Erasmus was published in 1549, at which time, the author says,” he was then in hand“with Eremita, who had written” on the law and the spirit,“and” of them that thynke to be justyfyed by their works."

In 1541, Henry VIII. granted him, by patent, the office of master of the grammar-school of Reading, with a certain tenement called “a scole-house,” with a stipend of ten pounds, issuing out of the manor of Cholsey, belonging to the late dissolved monastery of Reading. A few years after he had obtained this patent, which he appears, to have had the power of assigning during his life, he quitted Reading, and travelled over great part of the continent, teaching the learned languages. Leland, in some Latin verses, among his “Encomia,” addressed to Cox, speaks of his visiting the universities of Prague, Paris, and Cracow, and that he was known to Melancthon, who was Greek professor at Wittemberg. In the latter part of his life he kept a school at Caer-leon, and is said to have survived until the reign of Edward VI. Bale says that he was instructed in all the liberal arts, that he was a grammarian, a rhetorician, and a poet; a sound divine, and a diligent preacher of God’s word. It is needless after this to add that he was of the reformed religion. In Edward Vlth’s time, he was one of the licensed preachers.

, a learned English bishop, was born at Whaddon in Buckinghamshire, of mean parentage, in the year 1499. He had probably his first education in the small priory of Snelshall, in the parish of Whaddon; but being afterwards sent to Eton-school, he was elected into a scholarship at King’s college in Cambridge, of which he became fellow in the year 1519. Having the same year taken his bachelor of arts degree, and being eminent for his piety and learning, he was invited to Oxford by cardinal Wolsey, to fill up his new foundation. He was accordingly preferred to be one of the junior canons of Cardinal college; and on the 7th of December, 1525, was incorporated bachelor of arts at Oxford, as he stood at Cambridge. Soon after, having performed his exercises, he took the degree of M. A. July 2, 1526, and at this time was reputed one of the greatest scholars of his age; and even his poetical compositions were in great esteem. His piety and virtue were not inferior to his learning, and commanded the respect of all impartial persons. But shewing himself averse to many of the popish superstitions, and declaring freely for some of Luther’s opinions, he incurred the displeasure of his superiors, who stripped him of his preferment, and threw him into prison on suspicion of heresy. When he was released from his confinement, he left Oxford; and, some time after, was chosen master of Eton-school, which flourished under his care. In 1537, he commenced doctor in divinity at Cambridge, and December 4, 1540, was made archdeacon of Ely; as he was also appointed in 1541, the first prebendary in the first stall of the same cathedral, upon its being new founded by king Henry VIII. September 10, 1541. He was likewise, June 3, 1542, presented by the same king to the prebend of Sutton with Buckingham in the church of Lincoln, and installed the llth of that month, but this he surrendered up in 1547. In the year 1543, he supplicated the university of Oxford, that he might take place among the doctors of divinity there, which was unusual, because he was not then incorporated in that degree, but this took place in June 1545. When a design was formed, of converting the collegiate church of Southwell into a bishopric, Dr. Cox was nominated bishop of it. On the 8th of January, 1543-4, he was made the second dean of the new-erected cathedral of Osney near Oxford; and in 1546, when that see was translated to Christ church, he was also made dean there. These promotions he obtained by the interest of archbishop Cranmer and bishop Goodrich, to the last of whom he had been chaplain; and, by their recommendation, he was chosen tutor to the young prince Edward, whom he instructed with great care in the true principles of religion, and formed his tender mind to an early sense of his duty, both as a Christian and a king. On that prince’s accession to the throne, he became a great favourite at court, and was made a privy-counsellor, and the king’s almoner. The 2 1st of May, 1547, he was elected chancellor of the university of Oxford; installed July 16, 1548, canon of Windsor; and the next year made dean of Westminster. About the same time he was appointed one of the commissioners to visit the university of Oxford, in which he and his brother commissioners destroyed some of the most valuable treasures in the libraries, from a notion that they encouraged popery and conjuration *. In 1550, he was ordered to go down into Sussex, and endeavour by his learned and affecting sermons, to quiet the minds of the people, who had been disturbed by the factious preaching of Day bishop of Chichester, a violent papist: and when the noble design of reforming the canon law was in agitation, he was appointed one of the commissioners. Both in this and the former reign, when an act passed for giving all chantries, colleges, &c. to the king, through Dr. Cox’s powerful intercession, the colleges in both universities were excepted out of that act. In November 1552, be resigned the office of chancellor of Oxford and soon after queen Mary’s accession to the crown, he was stripped of his preferments and on the 15th of August, 1553, committed to the Marshalsea. He was indeed soon discharged from this confinement; but foreseeing the inhuman persecution likely to ensue, he resolved to quit the realm, and withdraw to some place where he might enjoy the free exercise of his religion, according to the form established in the reign of king Edward. With this view he went first to Strasburgh in Germany, where he heard with great concern of some English exiles at Francfort having thrown aside the English Liturgy, and set up a form of their own, framed after the French and Geneva models. On the 13th of March 1555, he came to Francfort in order to oppose this innovation, and to have the Common- Prayer-Book settled among the English congregation there, which he had the satisfaction to accomplish. Then he returned to Strasburgh for the sake of conversing with Peter Martyr, with whom he had contracted an intimate friendship at Oxford, and whom he loved and honoured for his great learning and moderation. After the death of queen Mary he returned to England; and was one of those divines who were appointed to revise the Liturgy. When a disputation was to be held at Westminster between eight papists and eight of the reformed clergy, he was the chief champion on the protestants’ side. He preached often before queen Elizabeth in Lent; and, in his sermon at the opening of her first parliament, exhorted them in most affecting terms to restore religion to its primitive purity, and banish all the popish innovations and corruptions. These excellent discourses, and the great zeal he had shewn in support of the English liturgy at Francfort, so effectually recommended him to the queen’s esteem, that in June 1559, she nominated him to the bishopric of Norwich; but altering her mind, preferred him to the see of Ely in July 1559, in the room of Dr. Thirlby, who was deprived. Before his consecration (Dec. 19) he joined with Dr. Parker, elect archbishop of Canterbury, and the bishops elect of London, Chichester, and Hereford, in a petition to the queen, against an act lately passed for the alienating and exchanging the lands and revenues of the bishops; and sent her several arguments from scripture and reason against the lawfulness of it; observing withal, the many evils and inconveniencies both to church and state that would thence arise. In 1559 we find him again appointed one of the visitors of the university of Oxford, but this visitation was conducted so moderately as to obtain a letter of thanks to queen Elizabeth for the services of the commissioners. He enjoyed the episcopal dignity about twenty-one years and seven months, and was justly considered one of the chief pillars and ornaments of the church of England, having powerfully co-operated with archbishop Parker, and his successor Grindal, in restoring our church in the same beauty and good order it had enjoyed in king Edward’s reign. He indeed gave some offence to the queen by his zealous opposition to her retaining the crucifix and lights on the altar of the Chapel Royal, and his strenuous defence of the lawfulness of the marriage of the clergy, to which the queen was always an enemy. He was a liberal patron to all learned men whom he found well affected to the church; and shewed a singular esteem for Dr. Whitgift, afterwards archbishop of Canterbury, made him his chaplain, and gave him the rectory of Teversham in Cambridgeshire, and a prebend of Ely. He did his utmost to get a body of ecclesiastical laws established by authority of parliament; but through the opposition of some of the chief courtiers, this design miscarried a third time. As he had, in his exile at Francfort, been the chief champion against the innovations of the puritans, he still continued, with some vigour and resolution, to oppose their attempts against the discipline and ceremonies of the established church. At first he tried to reclaim them by gentle means; but finding that they grew more audacious, and reviled both church and bishops in scurrilous libels, he wrote to archbishop Parker, to go on vigorously in reclaiming or punishing them, and not be disheartened at the frowns of those court-favourites who protected them; assuring him that he might expect the blessing of God on his pious labours to free the church from their dangerous attempts, and to establish uniformity. When the privycouncil interposed in favour of the puritans, and endeavoured to screen them from punishment, he wrote a bold letter to the lord- treasurer Burieigh in which he warmly expostulated with the council for meddling with the affairs of the church, which, as he said, ought to be left to the determination of the bishops; admonished them to keep within their own sphere; and told them he would appeal to the queen if they continued to interpose in matters not belonging to them. He is blamed by some for giving up several manors and other estates belonging to his see, while others thought he deserved commendation for his firmness in resolving to part with no more, and for being proof against the strongest solicitations and most violent attacks which he had to encounter, even from those who were most in favour at court, and who were backed by royal command and authority. In the years 1574- and 1575, sir Christopher Hatton, a noted favourite of the queen, endeavoured to wrest Ely-house in Holborn from him; and in order to preserve it to his see he was forced to have a long and chargeable suit in chancery, which was not determined in 1579. The lord North also attempted, in 1575, to oblige him to part with the manor of Somersham, in Huntingdonshire, one of the best belonging to his bishopric; and with Downham park; which he refusing to yield, that lord endeavoured to irritate the queen against him, and to have him deprived. For that purpose, North, and some others of the courtiers, examined and ransacked his whole conduct since his first coming to his see, and drew tip a large body of articles against him addressed to the privy-council. But the bishop, in his replies, so fully vindicated himself, that the queen was forced to acknowledge his innocence, though the lord North boasted he had found five prsemunires against him. Vexed, however, with the implacable malice of the lord North, and other his adversaries, he desired, in 1577, leave to resign his bishopric, which the queen refused. North, though disappointed in his former attempt, yet not discouraged, brought three actions against the poor old bishop for selling of wood, on which the bishop offered again, in 1579, to resign, provided he had a yearly pension of two hundred pounds out of his see, and Donnington (the least of five country houses belonging to Ely bishopric) for his residence during life. The lord- treasurer Burieigh, at the bishop’s earnest desire, obtained leave of the queen for him to resign; and in February 1579-80, upon the bishop’s repeated desires, forms of resignation were actually drawn up. But the court could not find any divine of note who would take that bishopric on their terms, of surrendering* up the best manors belonging to it. The first offer of it was made to Freak, bisbop of Norwich; and, on his refusal, it was proffered to several others; but the conditions still appeared so ignominious that they all rejected it; by which means bishop Cox enjoyed it till his death, which happened on the 22d of July 1581, in the eighty-second year of his arge. By his will he left several legacies, amounting in all to the sum of 945l.; and died worth, in good debts, 2,322l. He had several children. His body was interred in Ely cathedral, near bishop Goodrich’s monument, under a marble stone, with an inscription, now nearly effaced. His character is said to have been that of a man of a sound judgment and clear apprehension, and skilled in all polite and useful learning. He wanted no advantages of education, and improved them with such diligence and industry, that he soon became an excellent proficient both in divine and human literature. The holy scriptures were his chief study; and he was perfectly well versed in the original language of the New Testament. He was extremely zealous for the true interest of the reformed church, and a constant and vigorous defender of it against alj, the open, assaults of all its enemies. He is accused by some of having been a worldly and covetou’s person; and is said to have made a great havock and spoil of his woods and parks, feeding his family with powdered venison to save expences. Several complaints and long accusations were exhibited against him and his wife, in 1579, to queen Elizabeth upon these accounts, but the bishop fully vindicated himself, and shewed that all these complaints were malicious calumnies. It is likewise said, that he appears to have been of a vindictive spirit, by reason of his prosecution of, and severity to, the deprived catholics in his custody; and especially by his complaints against Dr. Feckenham, the last abbot of Westminster. But the bishop alleges in his own excuse, that these complaints were well founded; and that his endeavours to convert him were by order of the court. It must be remembered of this bishop, that he was the first who brought a wife to live in a college; and that he procured a new body of statutes for St, John’s college in Cambridge, of which, as bishop of Ely, he was, visitor.

His works, chiefly published after his decease, are, 1. “An Oration at the beginning of the Disputation of Dr. Tresham and others with Peter Martyr.” 2. “An Oration at the conclusion of the same;” both in Latin, and printed in 1549, 4to, and afterwards among Peter Martyr’s works. The second is also printed in the Appendix to Strype’s Life, of Cranmer. 3. He had a great hand in compiling the first Liturgy of the Church of England: and was one of the chief persons employed in the review of it in 1559. 4. He turned into verse the Lord’s Prayer, commonly printed at the end of Sternhold and Hopkins’s Psalms, a composition which will not bear modern criticism. 5. When a new Translation of the Bible was made in the reign of queen Elizabeth, now commonly known by the name of the Bishop’s Bible, the Four Gospels, the Acts of the Apostles, and the Epistle to the Romans, were allotted to him, for his portion. 6. He wrote, “Resolutions of some Questions concerning the Sacraments;” in the collection of records at the end of Dr. Burnet’s History of the Reformation. 7. He had a hand in the “Declaration concerning the functions and divine institution of Bishops and Priests,” and in the “Answers to the Queries concerning some abuses of the Mass.” 8. Several letters, and small pieces of his have been published by the industrious Strype, in his Annals of the Reformation, and Lives of the four Archbishops; and he is said to have had a hand in Lilly’s Grammar. A letter written by him in 1569, directed to the Parson of Downham, and found in the parish chest of that place, was some years ago published in the Gentleman’s Magazine. It relates chiefly to the state and condition of the poor, before the statutes of the 14th and 43d of queen Elizabeth were enacted and shews that the bishop was animated with a very laudable zeal for engaging persons of wealth and substance to contribute liberally, chearfully, and charitably, to their indigent neighbours.

, bart. lord chancellor of Ireland, and author of a history of that kingdom, was son to Richard Cox, esq. captain of a troop of horse, and was born at Bandon, in the county of Cork, on the 25th of March 1650. He had the misfortune to become an orphan before he was full three years of age and was then taken care of by his mother’s father, Walter Bird, esq. of Cloghnakilty. But his grandfather also dying when he was about nine years old^ he was then taken under the protection of his uncle, John Bird, esq. who placed him at an ordinary Latin school at Cloghnakiity, where he soon discovered a strong inclination to learning. In 1668, in his eighteenth year, he began to practise as an attorney in several manor courts where his uncle was seneschal, and continued it three years, and was entered of Gray’s Inn in 1671, with a view of being called to the bar. Here he was so much distinguished for his great assiduity and consequent improvement, that in the summer of 1673 he was made one of the surveyors at sir Robert Shaftoe’s reading. He soon after married a lady who had a right to a considerable fortune; but, being disappointed in obtaining it, he took a farm near Cloghnakiity, to which he retired for seven years. Being at length roused from his lethargy by a great increase of his family, he was, hy the interest of sir Robert Southwell, elected recorder of Kinsale in 1680. He now removed to Cork; where he practised the law with great success. But, foreseeing the storm that was going to fall on the protestants, he quitted his practice, and his estate, which at that time amounted to 300l. per ann. and removed with his wife and five children to England, and settled at Bristol. At this place he obtained sufficient practice to support his family genteelly, independently of his Irish estate; and at his leisure hours compiled the History of Ireland;“the first part of which he published soon after the revolution, in 1689, under the title of” Hibernia Anglicana; or the History of Ireland, from the conquest thereof by the English to the 'present time." When the prince of Orange arrived in London, Mr. Cox quitted Bristol, and repaired to the metropolis, where he was made undersecretary of state. Having given great satisfaction to the king in the discharge of this office, Mr. Cox was immediately after the surrender of Waterford made recorder of that city. On the 15th of September 1690, he was appointed second justice of the court of common pleas. In April 1691 Mr. Justice Cox was made governor of the county and city of Cork. His situation now, as a judge and a military governor, was somewhat singular; and he was certainly not deficient in zeal for the government, whatever objections may be made to his conduct on the principles of justice and humanity. During the time of Mr. Cox’s government, which continued till the reduction of Limerick, though he had a frontier of 80 railes to defend, and 20 places to garrison, besides Cork and the fort of Kinsale, yet he did not lose a single inch of ground. On the 5th of November 1692, Mr. justice Cox received the honour of knighthood; in July 1693 was nominated lord chancellor of Ireland, and in October 1706 was created a baronet. On the death of queen Anne, and the accession of king George I. sir Richard Cox, with the other principal Irish judges, was removed from his office, and also from the privy council. He then retired to his seat in the county of Cork, where he hoped to have ended his days in peace; hut his tranquillity was disturbed by several attacks which were made against him in the Irish parliament, but though several severe votes were passed against, him, they were not followed by any farther proceedings. He now divided his time between study, making improvements on his estate, and acts of beneficence. But in April 1733, he was seized by a fit of apoplexy, which ended in a palsy, under which he languished till the 3d of May that year, when he expired without pain, at the age of 83 years one month and a few days.

, a faithful and industrious collector of old English literature, was born of an ancient and respectable family at Lechdale in Gloucestershire, Sept. 20, 1689. He was educated in grammatical learning, first under the rev. Mr. Collier, at Coxwell in Berkshire, and afterwards under the rev. Mr. Collins, at Magdalen school, Oxford, from which he entered a commoner of Trinity college, Oxford, in 1705. From Oxford, where he wore a civilian’s gown, he came to London, with a view of pursuing the civil law; but losing his friend and patron sir John Cook, knight, who was dean of the arches and vicargeneral, and who died in 1710, he abandoned civil law and every other profession. An anonymous funeral poem to the memory of sir John Cook, entitled “Astrea lacrirnans,” the production probably of Coxeter, appeared in 1710. Continuing in London without any settled pursuit, he became acquainted with booksellers and authors. He amassed materials for a biography of our poets, which were afterwards used in what is called Gibber’s Lives. (See art. The Cibber). He also assisted Mr. Ames in the History of British typography. He had a curious collection of old plays, and pointed out to Theobald many of the blackletter books which that critic used in his edition of Shakspeare. He compiled one, if not more, of the indexes to Hudson’s edition of Josephus in 1720. In 1739 he published a new edition of Baily’s, or rather Hall’s, lire of bishop Fisher, first printed in 1655. In 1744 he circulated proposals “for printing the dramatic works of Thomas May, esq. a contemporary with Ben Jonson, and, upon his decease, a competitor for the bays. With notes, and an account of his life and writings.” fl The editor,“says he,” intending to revive the best of our plays, faithfully collated with all the editions, that could be found in a search of above thirty years, happened to communicate his scheme to one who now invades it. To vindicate which, he is resolved to publish this deserving author, though out of the order of his design. And, as a late spurious edition of “Gorboduc” is sufficient to shew what mistakes and confusion may be expected from the medley now advertising in ten volumes, a correct edition will be added of that excellent tragedy; with other poetical works of the renowned Sackville, his life, and a glossary. These are offered as a specimen of the great care that is necessary, and will constantly be used, in the revival of such old writers as the editor shall be encouraged to restore to the public in their genuine purity.“Such are the terms of the proposals: and they shew, that, though this design did not take effect, Coxeter was the first who formed the scheme, adopted by Dodsley, of publishing a collection of our ancient plays. Sackville’s” Gorboduc,“here referred to, is the edition published by Mr. Spence in 1736. In 1747 he was appointed secretary to a society for the encouragement of an essay towards a complete English history; under the auspices of which appeared the first volume of Carte’s” History of England.“Mr. Warton made considerable use of his Mss. in his” History of Poetry“and in 1759, an edition of Massinger’s works was published in 4 vols. 8vo. said to be” revised, corrected, and the editions collated by Mr. Coxeter." He died of a fever April 19, 1747, in his 59th year, and was buried in the chapel-yard of the Royal hospital of Bridewell: leaving an orphan daughter, who was often kindly assisted with money by Dr. Johnson, and in her latter days by that excellent and useful institution, the Literary Fund. She died in Nov. 1807.

, an artist, was born at Mechlin in 1497, and received the first notions of painting, when he was very young, from Bernard Van Orlay of Brussels but quitting- his own country, he travelled to Rome, and there had the good fortune to become a disciple of Raphael. He studied and worked under the direction of that superior genius, for several years; and in that school acquired the taste of design and colouring peculiar to his master, as also the power of imitating his exquisite manner so far, as to be qualified to design his own female figures with a great deal of grace and elegance. He had, however, no great invention, nor did he possess a liveliness of imagination; and therefore, when he left Rome, to return to Jns native country, he took care to carry along with him a considerable number of the designs of Raphael, and other eminent masters of Italy, which he did not scruple to make use of afterwards in his own compositions. By that means he gained a temporary reputation, and his pictures were wonderfully admired through the Low Countries; but when Jerom Cock returned from Rome, and brought with him into Flanders, the “School of Athens,” designed by Raphael, and other designs of the most famous Italian artists, they were no sooner made public, than the plagiarism of Coxis was discovered, and his reputation proportionably decreased.

In the church of St. Gudule at Brussels, there is a “Last Supper” painted by Coxis, which is much commended and in the church of Notre Dame, at Antwerp, a St> Sebastian, a Crucifixion, and several portraits, which are fine imitations of nature, and the expression in all of them is excellent. And in the chapel of St. Luke, at Mechlin, he painted two folding-doors, intended to cover an altar-piece, which were so greatly esteemed, that the archduke Matthias purchased them at a very large price, and carried them out of the Low Countries. Towards the close of his life, having become very rich, he built three houses in Malines, which he furnished with his own performances. His pictures, though from the length of his life, and his incessant application, very numerous, are yet rarely to be met with. He was killed by a fall from a scaffold in 1592, in the town-hall of Antwerp, where he was painting, at the very advanced age of 95 years.

, who was born at Baumeles-Nones in Franche-Comtt;, and died at Paris July 18, 1782, in an advanced age, was for some time a Jesuit. Having quitted that society, he repaired to the capital about 1751, and sought a livelihood by his pen. He began his career by certain fugitive pieces, of which some, as the “Discovery of the Philosopher’s stone,” in imitation of Swift, and the “Miraculous year,” had the most success. These trifles were collected under the very suitable title of “Bagatelles morales.” Some of the pieces in this collection are written, with ease, delicacy, and sprightliness; but irony being the favourite figure with the author, the style of it is too monotonous, and the witticisms sometimes too far fetched. There was visible in the writings of the abbe Coyer, as well as in his conversation, a perpetual effort at being agreeable, which he was unable to sustain to any length. Besides some temporary pieces, the abbé Coyer also wrote, 1. “The History of John Sobieski,” 1761, 3 vols. 12mo; a very interesting work. 2. “Travels in Italy and Holland,” 1775, 2 vols. 12mo. The abbe Coyer ran over these countries, oiot so much in the character of a deep observer, as of a light Frenchman, who takes a superficial glance, and then hastily sets down some remarks analogous to the fluctuation of his mind, of his inclinations and his character. The book is far inferior both to the observations of M. Grosley and the travels of M. de la Lande. 3. “New observations on England,” 1779, 12mo, which is little else that an abridgment of Grosley’s London. 4. “Noblesse Commenjante,” 2 vols. 8vo, and a little romance entitled “Chinki, histoire Cochin-Chinoise,” which made more noise in France than his “Bagatelles,” and are said to have contributed to two important changes in France, the granting of letters of noblesse to eminent merchants, and the abolition of wardenships. 5. “Plan d'education publique,” 1770, 12 mo. The abbe Coyer also translated Biackstone’s Commentaries on the Criminal Law of England. He had long fruitlessly endeavoured to obtain admittance into the French academy, and had adopted many of the sentiments of the modern philosophers, who do not appear, however, to have had a profound respect for him. He was always telling Voltaire that he intended to come and spend three months with him, until the poet, frightened at his threat, wrote to him, “Mons. Abbe, do you know the difference which I find between you and Don Quixote It is, that he took inns for castles, and you take castles for inns.”

is the name of a family of celebrated painters. Noel Coypel, the grandfather, was director of the academy at Rome; Antony Coypel, the father, was principal painter to the king and the duke of Orleans, and at the same time surveyor of painting and sculpture; and Noel Nicholas Coypel, the uncle, professor of that academy.

was admitted into the academy of painting in his twentieth year, where he had already executed several pictures of great merit; his son, who was born at Paris in 1694, and to whom he left his name, his talents, his knowledge, and virtues, enjoyed the same good fortune. in his 2ist year: he was first painter to the duke of Orleans, and in 1747 to the king. Though his peronal qualities and endowments had already made him a welcome guest with the princes and great men of the court, yet this last appointment increased his reputation; and the first use he made of his consequence, was to induce M. de Tourathem, who had fortitude of mind sufficient for such a sacrifice, to decline the title of a protector of the academy, which hitherto had always been connected with the office of superintendant of the buildings, in order that the academy of painting, like all the rest, might be under the immediate protection of the king. He also erected a preparatory school, at Paris, for the y^ung pupils, who went to Rome, where they studied history, and exercised themselves under able masters. To him likewise the public were indebted for the exhibition of the pictures in the Luxembourg gallery. Like all men of genius, he had his enviers and rivals; but his rivals were his friends, his modesty drew them to him, and he never refused them his esteem. His place as first painter to the king brought him to court, and made him more intimately acquainted with the queen and the dauphin. The queen often gave him, work to do, which chiefly consisted in pictures of the saints and other objects of devotion. On her return from Metz, finding over her chimney a picture which he had privately executed, representing France in the attitude of returning thanks to heaven for the deliverance of the king, she was so moved, that she exclaimed, “No one but my friend Coypel is capable of such. a piece of gallantry!” The dauphin had frequently private conversations with him. He himself executed the drawing for the last work of Coypel, the “Sultan in his seraglio.” His table was always strewed with the manuscripts of this artist, which he intended to publish at his own expence. The death of the author prevented his design, and on hearing of the event, the prince said publicly at supper: “I have in one year lost three of my friends!”

Coypel seems to have exerted himself more for others than for himself; he was a good master, a good relation, a good friend, and a man of veracity. His father disinherited him in favour of his sister by a second marriage, and tJie son did the same in regard to his brother, by depriving him of all benefit from the inheritance of Bidautt. Coypel was author of several theatrical performances, the rehearsals of which were attended by crowds of people, not for the sake of feeding his vanity with an artificial applause, but from friendly participation, and the conviction of their intrinsic noerit. Most of them were performed at the private theatre of madame Marchand, and in the Mazarine college, for which they were expressly composed. The well-known “Don Quixote” is by him. Coypel also wrote several dissertations on the art of painting, and academical lectures, which latter are in print. He even wrote the life of his father, which excels no less by the delicate manner in which he criticises his father, than by the modesty with which he speaks of himself. His acquaintance was very much sought after. One proof of this is in the prodigious heaps of letters that were found after his death. He was particularly the favourite of a small coterie, where talents, knowledge, and good humour were cherished, unmixed with jealousy, pride, and licentiousness. In the number of its membevs were Mess. Caylus, Helvetius, Mirabeau, Mariveaux, inad lle Quinaut, madtime Marchand, and several more. They met alternately at the apartments of each other, and sat down to a supper which, by a law of the society, was not to cost more than fifteen livres. Coypel was remarkable for his liberal spirit. He caused a house that had been thrown clown by an inundation to be rebuilt at his own expence on a far more convenient and handsome plan, without the impoverished owner’s ever knowing to whom he was indebted for the bounty. He annually laid by 2000 livres of his revenue for works of charity, and requested the duke of Orleans to employ the expence of the coach which that prince kept for him in alms to the poor. The duke of Orleans had an uncommon value for him. The duke could not bear a warm room, but when Coypel came to him, he always ordered a rousing fire to be made up, “for,” said he, “he is chilly<” This same prince composed a poem, shewed it to the artist, and asked him, whether he should have it printed? Coypel was honest enough to say, “No:” and the duke tore it, and threw it into the fire.

A similar anecdote of the duke of Orleans the regent, and Antony Coypei the father, deserves to be related here by way of conclusion. The regent knew that Coypel, on account of some disgusts, was intending to accept of an invitation to England. He therefore drove to his lodgings one morning, in a fiacre, quite alone, without any attendants, and had him called down: “Come into the carriage,” said he to the artist, who was quite disconcerted at this visit; “let us go and take a drive together: you are. chagrined I want to try whether I cannot put you in a good humour,” and this jaunt made Coypel at once forget both England and his chagrin. The subject of this memoir died in 1752, in the 58th year of his age.

, an ingenious French sculptor, born at Lyons, in 1640, died chancellor and regent of the academy of painting and sculpture in 1720. Versailles boasts his best works, except the figure of that great minister, M. Colbert, on his tomb, in the church of S. Eustache; the two groupes of Renown, and Mercury, in the Thuilleries; and the player on the flute, in the same garden. The Neptune and Amphytrite, at Marly, with many very fine busts, are the chief works of this artist, who was endowed with a most fruitful imagination, and an admirable execution.

, a Russian by birth, was a landscape painter in London, but chiefly practised as a drawing-master. He taught in a way that was new and peculiar, and which appears to have been adopted from the hint given by Leonardo da Vinci, who recommends selecting the ideas of landscape from the stains of an old plaster wall, and his method of composing his drawings may be considered as an improvement upon the advice of Da Vinci. His process was to dash out, upon several pieces of paper, a number of accidental large blots and loose flourishes, from which he selected forms, and sometimes produced very grand ideas; but they were in general too indefinite in their execution, and unpleasing in their colour. He published a small tract upon this method of composing landscapes, in which he has demonstrated his process. He also published some other works, the most considerable of which was a folio, entitled “The Principles of Beauty relative to the Human Head,” 1778, French and English, a very ingenious, but somewhat fanciful work, illustrated with engravings by Bartolozzi, showing the gradations of character, from the outline of a feature, 'to the outline of the face, and to each face is applied an head dress in the style of the antique. He also published “The various species of Composition in Nature, in sixteen subjects, on four plates,” with observations and instructions and “The shape, skeleton, and foliage of thirty-two species of Trees,” 1771, reprinted 1736; but, in Mr. Edwards’s opinion, not very creditable to the artist. As a drawingmaster, he had very considerable reputation and employment. He attended for some years at Eton school, and among other pupils of high rank, had the honour of giving some lessons to his royal highness the prince of Wales, He died at his house in Leicester-street, Leicester-square, April, 1786, leaving a son John Cozens, who greatly excelled him as a landscape painter: rejecting his lather’s method of fortuitous blots and dashes, he followed the arrangements of nature, which he saw with an enchanted eye, and drew with an enchanted hand. He owes his fame to those tinted drawings, of which, Mr. Fuseli says, the method has been imitated with more success than the sentiment which inspired them. A collection of his drawings, amounting to ninety-four, the property of Mr. Beckford, were sold by Christie in 1805, and produced 510l. He visited Italy twice, where he appears to have drawn most of these In 1794, he was seized with a mental derangement which continued to his death in 1799.

, an eminent benefactor to the taste, elegance, and literature of his time, was the son of col. Mordaunt Cracherode, who sailed with lord Anson, and in 1753 was appointed lieut. governor of Fort St. Philip, in Minorca. His mother was Mary, the daughter of Thomas Morice, esq. paymaster of the British forces in Portugal in queen Anne’s time, and brother to William Morice, esq. who married bishop Atterbury’s daughter. The colonel died June 20, 1773, and his widow Dec. 27, 1784, at their house in Queen’s-square, Westminster, which was afterwards inhabited by their son, the subject of the present article. Mr. Cracherode was born in 1729, and educated at Westminster school, where his contemporary the late Mr. Cumberland says, he was “as grave, studious, and reserved as he was through life; but correct in morals and elegant in manners, not courting a promiscuous acquaintance, but pleasant to those who knew him, beloved by many, and esteemed by all.” He was admitted a scholar at Westminster in 1742, and in 1746 was elected to Christ-church, Oxford, where he took his degree of B. A. and M.A. at the usual periods: the latter, April 5, 1753. He entered into holy orders, and atone time held the curacy of Binsey, a donative, near Oxford, but accepted no preferment afterwards. At the same time, he maintained that simplicity and purity in his appearance, manners, and sentiments, which belong to the character he professed. The tenor of Mr. Cracherode’s life, after he came to reside in London, that of a man of literary taste and research, was even and uniform: his principal object was the collection of a library and museum, and while his thoughts were confined to it, his associations were necessarily with men of similar pursuits. He employed a considerable part of a large revenue in making collections of what was best and most curious in literature, and certain branches of the arts. His library soon became unrivalled in its kind; and his cabinet of prints, drawings, and medals, was considered as among the most select and valuable in a country that possesses so many of them. He was an exquisite judge of art, both ancient and modern, particularly of sculpture, painting, and music, and collected the choicest'of early printed books, drawings, coins, and gems. Many of hisarticles were unique for their beauty, their preservation, or the rarity of their occurrence: such, for instance, as his cameo of a lion on a sardonyx, and intaglio of the discobolos; his Tyndale’s New Testament on vellum, that formerly belonged to Anne Boleyn; his lord Finch, with wings on his head, by Marshal; his Olbiopolis, and his Dichalcos, the first and smallest coin, being the fourth part of an obolus. Of these, and every other curiosity in his possession, he was, at all times, most obligingly communicative. His books, which he used modestly to call a specimen collection, particularly books of the fifteenth century, form perhaps the most perfect series ever brought together by one man. His passion for collecting was strong in death, and while he was at the last extremity, his agents were buying prints for him. In his farewell visit to Payne’s shop he put an Edinburgh Terence in one pocket, and a large paper Cebes in another, and expressed an earnest desire to carry away “Triveti Annales,” and Henry Stephens’s “Pindar” in old binding, both beautiful copies, and, as he thought, finer than his own, but which Mr. Payne had destined for lord Spencer.

This last visit was paid on the Monday before his death, when he seemed to depart in a manner that was visibly affecting. Soon after he got home, it was found necessary to call in sir George Baker, who paid the most unremitting attention, and revived him from the momentary effects of a fit in which he fell down, but could not protract life beyond the Friday following, April 6, 1799, when this amiable man expired. He was interred in Westminsterabbey.

His death was probably brought on by a cold he caught in going out after a long confinement. It was apparently an atrophy, but at last, a constipation of the bowels. Among his other habits, in which he was extremely regular, he was accustomed for 40 years of his life, to go every day first to Mr. Elmsly’s the bookseller in the Strand, and thence to Mr. Payne’s at the Mews-gate, to meet his literary friends: and punctually called every Saturday at the late Mr. Mudge’s, now Button’s, the ingenious mechanic in Fleet-street, to have his watch exactly regulated.

The principal features of his face, which was a very fine one, were mildness, kindness, and goodness and though they could not well be described in one line, yet they might be expressed by the single epithet of // benevolo. He was an universal favourite, because he possessed those qualities of which mankind are seldom jealous, and which they are ever ready to commend. His judgment was sound, and his taste excellent: he was eager. to learn, and modest to decide. His general manner of life, though he occasionally mixed with the world, and lived with the first people, was quiet and recluse: and his excursions from Queen-square were, for the most part, terminated at Clapham. The greatest journey of his life was from London to Oxford, and he was never on horseback. He had an estate in Hertfordshire, on which grew a remarkable c-hcsnut-tree, which he never saw but in an etching. This property was the manor of great Wimondly, held of the crown in grand serjeantry by the service of presenting to the king the first cup he drinks at his coronation; the cup to be of silver gilt, and the king returns it as the fee of office. His father, colonel Cracherode, purchased this manor of the Grosvenor family, and officiated at the coronation of his present majesty. The apprehension of being called to perform this service occasioned no small uneasiness to his son. His fortune was large, which he received from his father. Possessing about 600l. a year in landed property, and nearly 100,000l. in three per cents, he was usually reckoned worth 5000l. a year, of which he made the best possible use, for his charities were as ample as his fortune, but secret.

His attainments were various and considerable. He wrote elegantly in Latin verse, as may be seen in three specimens in the “Carmina Quadragesimal ia,” for the year 1748, the only things he was ever known to have published. The only likeness existing of Mr. Cracherode is a blacklead drawing made by order, and in the possession of lady Spencer, but by himself expressly forbidden to be engraved.

Mr. Cracherode left no formal will; and as he never was married, his fortune devolved by inheritance to his sister, a maiden lady, who died July 17, 1802. He left detached memoranda, bequeathing his immense collection of books, medals, drawings, &c. to the British Museum, of which he had for some years been a trustee. He was also a fellow of the royal and antiquarian societies. Every friend to literature must rejoice to hear that this unparalleled library (with the exception of his Polyglott Bible, which he left to the bishop of Durham, and his copy of the first edition of Homer, formerly belonging to the celebrated historian Thuanus, which he gave to Dr. Cyril Jackson, late dean of Christ church) went entire to this excellent repository, where they now are placed under the title of the Museum Cracherodiqnum.

, an eminent writer among the nonconformists, was born in 1620, but where we do not find. He was educated at Emanuel college, Cambridge, of which he became a fellow, and was presented to the college living of North Cadbury in Somersetshire, worth 300l. a year. When he kept the bachelor of divinity’s act, at the public commencement in 1651, his performance was highly applauded. He was ejected for nonconformity in 1662, but his wants were soon supplied by the death of a relation, who left him a good estate at Wickham Brook in Suffolk, on which he resided for twenty-six years, occasionally preached, and kept an academy for teaching young nonconformists those branches of science usually taught at the universities. Dr. Calamy, who was one of his pupils, gives him a high character for learning and piety, and Granger remarks that he has never seen two different characters of Mr. Cradock. He was so good and inoffensive, that every body spoke well of him, when it was usual for men of all religions to speak ill of each other. Nothing was ever objected to him but his nonconformity. In the reign of Charles II. he drew up a vindication of himself and others who kept private academies, notwithstanding their having taken an oath to the contrary at the university; a copy of it may be seen in Calamy. In his 79th year he became pastor of a congregation at Bishop Stortford in Hertfordshire, where he died October 7, 1706, in his 86th year, and was buried at Wickham Brook. His works, which were recommended by bishop Reynolds and archbishop Tillotson, are still in high esteem with the orthodox dissenters. They consist of, 1. “Knowledge and Practice,” a system of divinity, folio. 2. “The Harmony of the Four Evangelists,” folio, revised by Dr. Tillotson, who preserved it from the flames in the fire of London. 3. “The Apostolical History, containing the Acts, &c. of the Apostles,” folio. 4. “A Catechism on the principles of the Christian Faith.” 5. “The Old Testament History methodized.” 6. “A plain and brief Exposition on the Revelation.” Most of these have been often reprinted.

, said to be brother to the preceding, was born in 1633, and was educated at Queen’s college, Cambridge, where he gained such esteem by his learning and piety, that Dr. Cudworth, in 1656, wrote in the strongest terms to secretary Thurloe, to recommend him to Oliver Cromwell, as a proper person for the chaplainship of the English factory at Lisbon. Some years after the restoration, he was made canon-residentiary of Chichester, and was elected fellow of Eton college in 1672. In 1680 he was chosen by the fellows provost of Eton in opposition to Waller the poet, who was twice disappointed of the same preferment, once in 1665, when the lord chancellor Clarendon refused to put the seal to the grant, because it could be held only by a clergyman, and now when the privy-council came to the same determination. Dr. Cradock, who was admired in his own time for his uncommon talents, great copiousness and vivacity in preaching, is scarce known to the present day, except by the high character given of him by his contemporaries, and two excellent sermons: one on Providence, preached before Charles II. by whose command it was printed: it has since passed through several editions: the other “On the great end and design of Christianity,” was printed some years after his death, which happened Oct. 16, 1695, when he was interred in the college chapel.

, a brave officer, was of a respectable Scottish family, the Craigs of Dalnairand Costarton; and born in 1748 at Gibraltar, where his father held the appointments of civil and military judge* He entered the army at the early age of fifteen; and in a season of peace he imbibed the elementary knowledge of his profession in the best military schools of the continent. In 1770, he was appointed aid-de-camp to general sir Robert Boyd, then governor of Gibraltar, and obtained a company in the 47th regiment, with which he went to America in 1774, and was present at the battles of Lexington and Bunker’s-hill, in which latter engagement he was severely wounded. In 1776, he accompanied his regiment to Canada, commanding his company in the action of Trois Rivieres, and he afterwards commanded the advanced guard of the army in the expulsion of the rebels from that province. In 1777 he was engaged in the actions at Ticonderago and Hnbertown, in the latter of which engagements he was again severely wounded. Ever in a position of honourable danger, he received a third wound in the action at Freeman’s Farm. He was engaged in the disastrous affair at Saratoga, and was then distinguished by general Burgoyne, and the brave Fraser, who fell in that action, as a young officer who promised to attain to the very height of the military career. On that occasion he was selected by general Burgoyne to carry home the dispatches, and was immediately thereafter promoted to a majority in the new 82d regimen^ which he accompanied to Nova Scotia in 1778, to Penobscot in 1779, and to North Carolina in 1781; being engaged in a continued scene of active service during the whole of those campaigns, and generally commanding the light troops, with orders to act from his own discretion, on which his superiors in command relied with implicit confidence. In a service of this kind, the accuracy of his intelligence, the fertility of his resources, and the clearness of his military judgment, were alike conspicuous, and drew on him the attention of his sovereign, who noted him as an officer of the highest promise. In 1781, he obtained the lieutenant-colonelcy of the 82d regiment, and in 1783 that of the 16th, which he commanded in Ireland till 1791, having been promoted to the rank of colonel in 1790. In 1782, he went to the continent for the purpose of instructing himself in the discipline of the Prussian army, at that time esteemed the most perfect in Europe; and in a correspondence with general sir D. Dundas, communicated the result of his knowledge to that most able tactician, from whose professional science his country has derived so much advantage in the first improvement of the disciplinary system; and it is believed that the first experiments of the new exercise were, by his majesty’s orders, reduced to the test of practice, under the eye of colonel Craig, in the 16th regiment. In 1793 he was appointed to the command of Jersey, and soon thereafter of Guernsey, as lieutenant-governor. In 1794 he was appointed adjutant-general to the army under his royal highness the duke of York, by whose side he served during the whole of that campaign on the continent, and whose favour and confidence he enjoyed to the latest moment of his life. In 1794 he obtained the rank of major-­general, and in the beginning of the following year, he was sent on the expedition to the Cape of Good Hope, where, in the reduction and conquest of that most important settlement, with the co-operation of admiral sir G. K. Elphinstone, and major-gen. Clark, he attained to the highest pitch of his military reputation, and performed that signal service to his king and country, of which the memory will be as lasting as the national annals. Nor were his merits less conspicuous in the admirable plans of civil regulation, introduced by him in that hostile quarter, when invested with the chief authority, civil and military, as governor of the Cape, till succeeded in that situation by the earl of Macartney, in 1797, who, by a deputation from his majesty, invested general Craig with the red ribbon, as an honourable mark of his sovereign’s just sense of his distinguished services. Sir James Craig had scarcely returned to England, when it was his majesty’s pleasure to require his services on the staff in India. On his arrival at Madras, he was appointed to the command of an expedition against Manilla, which not taking place, he proceeded to Bengal, and took the field service. During a five years command in India, his attention and talents were unremittingly exerted to the improvement of the discipline of the Indian army, and to the promotion of that harmonious co-operation between its different constituent parts, on which not only the military strength, but the civil arrangement of that portion of the British empire so essentially depend. January 1801, sir James Craig was promoted to the rank of lieutenantgeneral, and returned to England in 1S02. He was appointed to the command of the eastern district, and remained in England till 1805, when, notwithstanding his constitution was much impaired by a long train of most active and fatiguing service, he was appointed by his sovereign to take the command of the British troops in the Mediterranean. He proceeded to Lisbon, Gibraltar, Malta, and from thence to Naples, to act in co-operation with the Russian army. But these plans being frustrated by the event of the battle of Austerlitz, sir James withdrew the troops from Naples to Messina, in Sicily. During the whole period of his command in the Mediterranean, he had suffered severely from that malady which terminated his life, a dropsy, proceeding from an organic affection of the liver; and feeling his disease sensibly gaining ground, he returned, with his sovereign’s permission, to England in 1805. A temporary abatement of his disorder flattering him with a prospect of recovery, and being unable to reconcile his mind to a situation of inactivity, he once more accepted of an active command from the choice of his sovereign; and in 1808, on the threatening appearance of hostilities with the United American States, was sent out to Quebec, as governor in chief of British America. The singular union of vigour and prudence, which distinguished his government in that most important official situation, are so recently impressed on the public mind, as to need no detail in this place. His merits were avowed and felt on both sides of the Atlantic: and as they proved the termination, so they will "ever be felt as throwing the highest lustre on the whole train of his public services. His constitution being now utterly enfeebled by a disease which precluded all hope of recovery, he returned to England in July 1811. Within three weeks of his death he was promoted to the rank of general. He looked forward with manly fortitude to his approaching dissolution, and in January 1812, ended a most honourable and useful career by an easy death, at the age of sixty-two.

, M. A. a Scotch clergyman, was born at Gifford in East Lothian 1682, and educated in the university of Edinburgh, took his degrees, and was ordained minister at Yester, where he continued some years till he was removed to Haddington. During the time he was minister at Yester, he wrote a volume of “Divine Poems,” which have gone through two editions, and are much esteemed. In 1732 he was translated to Edinburgh, and was much followed as one of the most popular preachers in that city. While he was at Edinburgh; he published three volumes of “Sermons,” in 8vo, chiefly on the principal heads of Christianity; but they are now become scarce. He died at Edinburgh in 1744, aged 62.

, a learned mathematician, was a native of Scotland, in the seventeenth century, and well known for many papers recorded in the Philosophical Transactions, and in the Acta Eruditorum. He had a controversy with Bernouilli, in which Leibnitz took the part of Craig. He made his name, however, famous chiefly by a pamphlet of 36 pages, 4to, entitled “Theologise Christianae prinfcipia mathematica,” printed at London in 1699, and reprinted at Leipsic in 1755, with a preface upon the life and works of Craig. The author calculates the force and diminution of the probability of things. He establishes, as his fundamental proposition, that whatever we believe upon the testimony of men, inspired or uninspired, is nothing more thau probable. He then proceeds to suppose, that this probability diminishes in proportion as the distance of time from this testimony increases: and, by means of algebraical calculations, he finds at length, that the probability of the Christian religion will last only 1454 years from the date of his book; but will be nothing afterwards, unless Jesus Christ should prevent the annihilation of it by his second coming, as he prevented the annihilation of the Jewish religion by his first coming. Some in Germany and France have seriously refuted these learned reveries. The time of his death is not known.

, Cragius, was born in 1549, at Ripen, and was regent of the school of Copenhagen in 1576. He married two years qfter this, and then set out on his travels over Europe. On his return, he found at his house two children that did not belong to him, which he got rid of, together with their mother, by dissolving his marriage; and then, forgetting his disaster, he married again. His turn for business procured him the management of several important negociations, which he terminated much to the satisfaction of the king of Denmark. He died in 1602, at the age of 61, leaving a Latin work in high repute, on the republic of the Lacedemonians, “De Republica Lacedsemoniorum,” first printed in 1592, and then at Leyden in 1670, 8vo, and the annals of Denmark, “Annalium libri Sex,” from the death of Frederic I. to the year 1550, Copenhagen, 1737, folio, a reprint. He was the author also of a “Latin Grammar,” 1578; “Titi Livii Patavini sententiose dicta,” with sentences taken from Sallust and “Differentia Ciceronis,” 1589, of which last, however, he is thought to have been only the editor.

, was born at Edinburgh in 1548, and studied the civil law in the university of Paris. While very young, he was called to the bar as an advocate in the court of session: his practice at the bar was great, and he was treated with every mark of respect by his countrymen; and when on a visit to London, he was knighted by king James. Bering well skilled in British and European antiquities, he wrote a learned treatise on the feudal law, entitled “Jus Feudale,” which is still in very great esteem. In 1535 he wrote a treatise on the sovereignty of Scotland, which was translated into very bad English by Ridpath in 1675. In 1602 he wrote a large treatise in folio to prove the legality of James’s succession to the crown of England on the death of queen Elizabeth. His book on the feudal law is esteemed all over England and the continent of Europe, and often quoted both by historians and lawyers. If others have excelled him in general researches and abstract speculation, few have united such practical utility with a profound and comprehensive view of the feudal system. He died at Edinburgh 1608, aged 60.

, a divine of the church of Scotland, was the son of a merchant in Glasgow, where he was horn in February 1709; and in the seminaries of education in that city, he began and prosecuted his studies. At college he distinguished himself by his early taste and uncommon proficiency in classical learning; and received great assistance and encouragement from his kinsman the rev. Mr. Clerk, of Neilston in Renfrewshire. The moral philosophy of the ancients engaged his attention in a particular manner: and the moral writers of Greece and Rome were his favourite authors. By the attentive perusal of their works, and of the moral poets of antiquity, he had committed to his memory a great number of their most striking passages, and used to apply them occasionally, in the company of his select friends, with great ease, judgment, and ingenuity. In this he had an excellent example in the practice of his friend and instructor, the justly-celebrated Dr. Hutcheson, who was elected to the professorship of moral philosophy in the university of Glasgow about the time that Craig had nearly finished his theological and philosophical course. W T ith this amiable and eminent philosopher he was early and intimately connected. Com-­mencing preacher in 1734, his philosophical monitor embraced every opportunity of hearing him; and with a frankness which shewed the opinion he entertained of the candour and abilities of his disciple, he offered such remarks on his sermons as he thought necessary. He particularly admonished him against a propensity to which young clergymen of ability are very liable, of indulging themselves in abstruse and philosophical disquisition. He advised, because he knew he was able to follow the advice, to preach to and from the heart. He did so. Habitually pious, ardently devout, and deeply interested in the welfare of those who listened to his instruction, he delivered himself with genuine and becoming earnestness. This was the spirit that directed his manner, which was solemn, yet animated; earnest, but correct; and though correct, not formal.

It is not to be supposed that a preacher of such eminence, especially at a time when this mode of preaching was rare, should remain unknown or unnoticed. He soon received a presentation from Mr. Lockhart of Cambusnethan, to be minister of that parish and settled there in the year 1737. About this time great opposition was made by the people of Scotland, and particularly by those of Clydesdale, to the manner of appointing ministers by presentations from lay-patrons, and Mr. Craig encountered considerable opposition. Zealous, however, in the discharge of his duty, and hoping, in the conscious ardour of his endeavours, to reconcile his parishioners to that system of instruction which he thought best suited to their condition, and most consistent with Christianity, he refused a presentation to a church in Airshire, offered him by Mr. Montgomery of Coilsfield; and another offered him by the amiable but unfortunate earl of Kilmarnock. At length he accepted of a presentation to a church in Glasgow, the place of his nativity, where most of his relations resided, where he could have opportunities of conversing with his literary friends, and where the field for doing good was more extensive. He was first appointed minister of the Wyndchurch in that city: and, after the building of St. Andrew’s churrh, one of the most elegant places of public worship in Scotland, he was removed thither. His audience was at no time so numerous, but especially during the last fiveand-twenty years of his life, as those who valued good composition and liberality of sentiment apprehended that he deserved.

Craig about this time married the daughter of Mr. Anderson, a considerable merchant in Glasgow. She lived with him sixteen years; and by her he had several children; two of whom, namely, William, an eminent lawyer at the Scottish bar, and John, a merchant in Glasgow, survived their father. But the excellent understanding and amiable dispositions of his wife, which rendered his married state happy, contributed, by their painful recollection, to embitter the sufferings of his declining age. She died in 1758 and though he afterwards formed a very happy marriage with the daughter of Gilbert Kennedy, esq. of Auchtifardel, he scarcely ever recovered the shock of his first separation. Several years before he died, his strength and health gradually declined; his spirits were overwhelmed with melancholy; he seemed to have lost the power of enjoying happiness-; no amusement could relieve his depressions; he lamented that he was become useless; and that he felt, not only his body, but the faculties of his soul impaired. His sufferings were heightened by many additional afflictions; particularly by the death of his son Alexander, a very agreeable young man, who had been bred a merchant, but who was strongly inclined to the study of polite literature: and soon after by the death of his second wife, whose affectionate assiduities had been invariably employed in endeavouring to solace and support his infirmities. In this state of feebleness and dejection, notwithstanding the unwearied attention of, his surviving sons, he continued to languish: and, at length, in 1784, in the seventy-fifth year of his age, he was released by an easy death. Great sensibility seems to have given the general and prevailing colour to his character. It rendered his piety devout, his benevolence tender, and his friendship affectionate. In the culture of his understanding it inclined him to those studies that please by their beautiful imagery, or touch the heart with agreeable feelings. He was therefore very early addicted to classical learning; and cherished those views of religion that represent both God and man in a favourable light. Such sentiments and propensities, though not altogether singular at the time that he commenced his studies, were, however, so rare among students of theology, that, speaking figuratively, we may call them singular. But singularity of disposition or opinion is usually disliked or opposed. The man of fortitude and strong nerves encounters the opposition; and either makes converts, or, by a bold authoritative tone, though he fails to conciliate affection, imposes respect. But the man of extreme sensibility, yielding to his native bias, is afraid of the struggle, declines the contest; and, excepting in the retirements of confidential friendship, not only appears, but really becomes shy and reserved. This disposition is nearly allied to modesty, and even humbleness of mind; yet the appearance of distance it so often assumes, is misrepresented by the undiscerning multitude; and, by a violent misapplication of terms, is misconstrued into pride. Effects almost of an opposite appearance are produced by the same principle, yet tend in their final issue to confirm this mistaken reserve. The man of sensibility, conscious of powers, exerts them; and, conscious of his own candour, expects suitable returns. He is disappointed. The observation of men is otherwise engaged: accidental circumstances, and other causes than such as arise from perversion of mind, carry away their attention from the merit that claims and deserves their notice. Of these the man of shy and retired sensibility is not aware; he becomes still more cautious in his intercourse with mankind; more shy, and more retired. But Craig, under the sacred shade, and in the retirements of intimate and confidential friendship, was unreserved, open, and even ardent. The spirit of real enjoyment, with which in his better days he engaged in familiar and literary conversation with his friends, displayed the most interesting view of his character. Conversations on the merits of elegant authors, both ancient and modern, but, above all, the liberal discussion of moral and religious topics, were the joy of his soul. On these occasions, his eyes, naturally animated, sparkled with additional lustre; his voice, naturally musical, became delightfully mellow; his features brightened, for his heart glowed. These were blessed intervals, anticipations, perhaps, of what he now enjoys. By degrees, this glowing mood became tinged with melancholy: at first it was amiable and interesting; but became at last distressful. The sensibility which gave him such moments of rapture, had not, perhaps, been duly managed; and contributed to or occasioned his sufferings. It had rendered him averse to indiscriminate society, and thus precluded him from many innocent means of relieving the lassitude, or alleviating the weight of declining age. It quickened his sense of misfortune, and rendered his affliction for the loss of friends too poignant. It overwhelmed him with too much sorrow, if at any time he apprehended that the affection of those in whose love he trusted had suffered change. His sense of deity was strong and lively. Even though the dejection and the despondency of affliction might at times have brought a gloomy cloud between him and the radiance of heaven, the cloud was transient: his religious opinions, founded not merely on feeling, but on conviction, were permanent: and even in the earlier periods of his life he often lamented that men of worth and integrity were not pious; and though they performed many charitable and disinterested actions from very laudable motives, yet that their conduct did not seem to be founded on any principles of religion. It might be friendship, it might be compassion, it might be beneficence; but it wanted those aids, those supports and comforts, which alone could arise from hope and trust in God. It is unnecessary to say of such a character, that he was just, charitable, and temperate. His virtues were those of a Christian, his failings were those incident to the weakness of human nature; and his sufferings were occasioned, or much aggravated by his feelings.

, originated from a gentleman’s family at Strickland in Westmoreland, where he was born in 1567, and in 1583 was admitted in Queen’s college in Oxford, of which he obtained a fellowship in 1598. He was esteemed a celebrated preacher and a deep controversial divine, and was particularly admired by the puritans. When king James 1. sent the lord Evers ambassador to the emperor, Mr. Crakanthorpe went along with him in 1603 as chaplain; and upon his return he was chaplain to Dr. Ravis, bishop of London, and presented to the rectory of Black Notley, near Braintry in Essex. He had the reputation of a general scholar, was a considerable canonist, and perfectly acquainted with ecclesiastical antiquity and scholastic divinity. He died in 1624, at his rectory of Black-Notley. His works are, 1. “Justinian the emperor defended against cardinal Baronius,” 1616, 4to. 2. “Introductio in Metaphysicam, lib. 4.” Oxon. 1619, 8vo Lond. 1641, 4to. 3. “A Defence of Constanthie, with a treatise of the pope’s Temporal Monarchy,” Lond. 1621, 4to. 4. “Pefensio ecclesiae Anglicanse contra M. Anton, cle Dominis archiepisc. Spalatensis injurias,” Lond. 1625, 4to; this book has the character of a most exact piece of controversy. 5. “Vigilius dormitans; or, a treatise of the 5th general council held at Constantinople, ann. 553,” Lond. 1631, fol. 6. “Logicae libri quinque,” Lond. 1622; Ox. 1677, 4to. 7. “Tractatus de providentia,” Camb. 1622, 4to; with several sermons, and some controversial Mss. left behind him, a part of which are in Queen’s college library.

, a learned protestant divine, was born at Retz in the new march of Brandenburgh, Jan. 20, 1568, where his father was pastor of the church, and for some time superintended his education. In 1531 he was sent to Lansberg, where he was educated in Greek and Latin by J. M. Capito, and afterwards pursued his studies at other seminaries, particularly Rostock, where he applied to philosophy and mathematics under Dr. Duncan Liddel, a learned native of Scotland, and Gotschovius. Under the presidentship of Dr. Liddel he defended a thesis on the organon of Aristotle with great applause, and lectured on the ethics to some of his fellow-students. About this time, 1590, the son of the prime minister of Denmark, Rosenkranz, being at Rostock for his education, Cramer was appointed his tutor, and afterwards accompanied him to Denmark, and to the university of Whtemberg; here he was appointed professor of logic, and superintendant of the scholars who were exhibitioners. From hence, being invited to Stettin, he was made first dean, and professor, and assessor of the consistory. In 1597 he was appointed pastor at Marienkirk, and inspector of the college. In 1598 he received the degree of doctor of divinity at Wittemberg, where Moreri, blunderingly, makes him die in the following year: on the contrary, after refusing many preferments, he remained here until Oct. 5, 1637, on which day he died, in his sixty-ninth year. His works, both in Latin and German, are very numerous. Freher has given a complete list, in which we find several treatises on Aristotle, “Emblematum Sacrorum Decades X.” with plates, and Latin, German, Italian and French verses,“8vo. ”Isagoge ad libros Propheticos et Apostolicos,“8vo;” Arbor hsereticse consanguinitatis," a history of heresies, divided into four classes, 4to; and various controversial works in favour of the Lutheran opinions.

, an eminent mathematician, was born at Geneva, in 1704, and became a pupil of John Bernouilli, and a professor of mathematics at the age of nineteen. He was known all over Europe, and was of the academies of London, Berlin, Montpellier, Lyons, and Bologna. He died in 1752, worn out with study, at the baths of Languedoc, whither he had repaired for the recovery of his health. He made a most important and interesting collection of the works of James and John Bernouilli, which was published 1743, under his inspection, in 6 vols. 4to, and he had before bestowed no less pains on an edition of Christopher Wolf’s “Elementa universae matheseos,” Genev. 1732 1741, 5 vols. 4to. The only work he published of his own was an excellent “Introduction to the Theory of Curve lines,” 1750, 4to. L'Avocat says he was an universal genius, a living Encyclopedia, and a man of pious and exemplary conduct. His family appears to have been numerous and literary. There wap another Gabriel Cramer, probably his father, who was born at Geneva, 1641, rose to be senior of the faculty of medicine, died in 1724, and left a son, John Isaac, who took the degree of doctor in 1696, succeeded to his practice, and published an “Epitome of Anatomy,” and a “Dissertation on Diseases of the Liver,” left by his father. Also, “Thesaurus secretorum curiosorum, in quo curiosa, ad omnes corporis humani, turn internes turn externos, morbos curandos, &c. continentur,” 1709, 4to, He again was succeeded by his son, John Andrew Cramer, who rendered himself famed by his skill in mineralogy and chemistry; and published at Leyden, in 1739, 2 vols. 8vo, “Elementa Artis Docirnasticae.” It was reprinted in 1744, and again translated into French, in 1755. He wrote also a treatise on the management of forests and timber, and gave public lectures on Assaying, both in Holland and England. He died Dec. 6, 1777. Tn his person he was excessiyely slovenly, in his temper irritable, and when disputes occurred, not very delicate in his language.

, of another family, a German divine and poet, doctor and professor of divinity at the university of Kiel, was born in 1723, at Jostadt, near Aunaberg. He was educated at Leipsic, where he made great proficiency in learning, but was soon under the necessity of employing his talents to defray the expences of the university, which he did partly in teaching, and partly in translating for the booksellers. He soon, however, acquired great reputation, and in 1750 was invited to Copenhagen, where he became court-chaplain. In 1765 he was appointed professor of divinity in the university of Copenhagen, and in 1773 was appointed to the same office in the university of Kiel, where he died June 12, 1738. He ranks as an orator, historian, poet, and translator, but his countrymen distinguish him principally as an historian, and a poet. His translation of, and additions to Bossuet’s “Introduction to Universal History,” bespeak the highest talents, and his translation of the “Psalms” is said to breathe the true spirit of Oriental poetry. His two lyric odes of “David” and “Luther” are excellent; and, though inferior to Klopstock and Ramler in spirit, he far surpasses them in versification and ease. His principal works are: 1. “A Translation of the Sermons of St. Chrysostom, with an Introduction and Remarks,” ten parts, Leipsic, 1748 51. 2. Bossuet’s Introduction, with additions, ibid. 1748 72. 3. Poetical Translation of the “Psalms,” in four parts, ibid. 1762 64. 4. “Gospel Imitation of the Psalms of David, and other holy songs,” Copenhagen, 1769. 5. “Luther,” an ode, 1771. 6. “Melancthon,” an ode. He was also concerned with Klopstock in publishing the “Northern Inspector,” one of the best periodical publications in Germany.

, a learned protestant divine, was born at Elcau, Feb. 14, 1678, and was first instructed in classical learning by his father, who was a pastor of the reformed church, and who intended him for the medical profession, but by the advice of his brother, professor of the oriental languages at Zurich, he studied divinity, after the death of his father, in 1693, and was admitted into the ministry in 1699. The same year he accompanied his brother to Herborn, where the latter had been appointed professor of divinity, and pursued his studies in that place for two years, under the ablest professors. He then removed to Leyden, and having made great progress in Hebrew antiquities, he published there, in 1702, his “Seven Dissertations on the Hilcoth Biccurim.” His brother dying at Zurich the same year, he was unanimously chosen to succeed him as Hebrew professor, and on Sept. 18, he opened his lectures with a discourse “de philologis a reformatione in schola Tigurina claris.” In 1705 he was appointed to teach sacred and profane history, and the year following succeeded to the Hebrew professorship in the superior college. In 1725 he succeeded John James Lavater, the elder, as professor of theology, and after some other preferments, the duties of which appear to have affected his health, he died July 14, 1737. His works are very numerous: 1. “Decas Thesium Theologicarum,” 1704, 4to. 2. “Constitutiones de primitivis R. Mosis F. Maimonis, &c. cum versione et notis philologicis,” Leyden, 1702, 4to. 3. “De Summa pryedicationis apostolicae, quod Jesus sit Christus,” 1725, 4to. 4. “De genuina indole fidei Jesum ceu Christum recipientis,” two parts, 1726 and 1727, 4to. 5. “Dissertationes Theolog. VII. de benedictione Mosis in tribum Levi enunciata,” 1725, 1736, 4to. 6. “Positiones theolog. ex pastorali instructione sancti Pauli ad Titum data,” 1727, 4to. 7. “Demonstratio quibus in rebus S'erae religionis prsestantia ponenda sit,” 172H. 8. “De nonnullis Antichrist! characteribus,” 1729, 4to. He published, also, various other dissertations in Latin and German, and after his death appeared, “Meditatio sacra in verba S. Pauli, quee beatitudinem in Domino morientium veram ac certam demonstrat,” Zurich, 1737, 4to. His funeral oration was pronounced by John James Zimmerman.

, the first Protestant archbishop of Canterbury, was the son of Thomas Cranmer, esq. and of Agnes, daughter of Laurence Hatfield, of Willoughby, in Nottinghamshire. He was born at Aslacton, in that county, July 2, 1489, and educated in grammar learning, under a rude and severe parish-clerk, of whom he learned little, and endured much. In 1503, at the age of fourteen, he was admitted into Jesus college, in Cambridge; of which he became fellow, and where he studied such learning as the times afforded, till the age of twenty-two, For the next four or five years he applied himself to polite literature; and for three years more, to the study of the Scriptures. After he was M. A. he married a gentleman’s daughter named Joan, living at the Dolphin, opposite Jesus-lane, and having by this match lost his fellowship, he took up his residence at the Dolphin, and became reader of the common lecture in Buckingham, now Magdalen college; but his wife dying in child-bed within a year, he was again admitted fellow of Jesus college. Upon cardinal Wolsey’s foundation of his new college at Oxford, Cranmer was nominated to be one of the fellows; but he refused the offer, or, as some say, was on the road to Oxford, when he was persuaded to return to Cambridge. In 1523, he was made D. D. reader of the theological lecture in his own college; and one of the examiners of those that took the degrees in divinity. The most immediate cause of his advancement to the greatest favour with king Henry VIII. and, in consequence of that, to the highest dignity in the church of England, was the opinion he gave in the matter of that king’s divorce. Having, on account of the plague at Cambridge, retired to Waltham-abbey, in Essex, to the house of one Mr. Cressy, to whose wife he was related, and whose sons were his pupils at the university; Edward Fox, the king’s almoner, and Stephen Gardiner, the secretary, happened accidentally to come to that house, and the conversation turning upon what then was a popular topic, the king’s divorce, Cranmer, whose opinion was asked, said, that “it would be much better to have this question, e whether a man may marry his brother’s wife, or no?' decided and discussed by the divines, and by the authority of the word of God, than thus from year to year prolong the time by having recourse to the pope; and that this might be done as well in England in the universities here, as at Rome, or elsewhere.” This opinion being communicate-d by Dr. Fox to the king, his majesty approved of it much; saying, in his coarse language, that Cranmer “had the sow by the right ear.” On this, Cranmer was sent for to court, made the king’s chaplain, ordered to write upon the subject of the divorce, furnished with books for that purpose, and placed in the family of Thomas Boleyn, earl of Wiltshire and Ormond. When he had finished his book, he went to Cambridge to dispute upon that point, and brought several over to his opinion, which was, that, according to the Scriptures, general councils, and ancient writers, the pope had no authority to dispense with the word of God. About this time he was presented to a living, and made archdeacon of Tauntpn. In 1530 he was sent, with some others, into France, Italy, and Germany, to discuss the affair of the king’s marriage. At Rome he got his book presented to the pope, and offered to dispute openly against the validity of king Henry’s marriage; but no one chose to engage him. While he was at Rome, the pope constituted him his pcenitentiary throughout England, Ireland, and Wales. In Germany he was sole embassador on the same affair; and in 1532 concluded a treaty of commerce between England and the Low Countries. He was also employed on an embassy to the duke of Saxony, and other Protestant princes. During his residence in Germany, he married at Nuremberg a second wife, named Anne, niece of Osiander’s wife. Upon the death of archbishop Warham, in August 1532, Cranmer was nominated for his successor; but, holding still to his opinion on the supremacy, he refused to accept of that dignity, unless he was to receive it immediately from the king, without the pope’s intervention Before his consecration, the king so far engaged him in the business of his divorce, that he made him a party and an actor almost in every step he took in that affair. He not only pronounced the sentence of divorce between king Henry and queen Catherine, at Dunstable, May the 23d, 1533, but, according to Parker, married him to Anne Boleyn; although lord Herbert says they were privately married by Rowland Lee, afterwards bishop of Litchfield and Coventry, in the presence of lady Anne’s father, mother, and brother, Dr. Cranmer, and the duke of Norfolk. However this may be, on March 30th, 1533, he was consecrated archbishop of Canterbury, by the bishops of Lincoln, Exeter, and St. Asaph, when he made an unusual protestation. His design was by this expedient to save his liberty, to renounce every clause in his oath which barred him doing his duty to God, the king, and his country. Collier, who often argues as if he were fee'd by the church of Rome, thinks there was something of human infirmity in this management, because it was not made at Koine to the pope, nor by Cranmer’s proxies there, before the obtaining of the bulls, not perceiving that Cranmer’s opposition to the power of the pope was as uniform as it had been early, and the effect of conviction. The temporalities of the archbishopric were restored to Cranmer the 29th of April following. Soon after, he forbad all preaching throughout his diocese, and visited it this year in December. The pope threatening him with excommunication, on account of his sentence against queen Catherine, he appealed from his holiness to a general council, and in the ensuing parliaments, strenuously disputed against the pope’s supremacy. All along he showed himself a zealous promoter of the reformation; and, as the first step towards it, procured the convocation to petition the king that the Bible might be translated into English. When that was obtained, he diligently encouraged the printing and publication of it, and caused it to be recommended by royal authority, and to be dispersed as much as he possibly could. Next, he forwarded the dissolution of the monasteries, which were one of the greatest obstacles to a reformation *. He endeavoured also to restore the church of England to its original purity. In 1535 he performed a provincial visitation, in order to recommend the king’s supremacy, and preached upon that subject in several parts of his diocese, urging that the bishop of Rome was not God’s vicar upon earth, as supposed, and that that see so much boasted of, and by which name popes affected to be styled, was but a holiness in name, and that there was no such holiness at Rome, as he easily proved from the vices of the court of Rome. In

1537 he visited his diocese, and endeavoured to abolish the superstitious observation of holidays. In 1538, he was in a commission against the anabaptists, and visited the diocese of Hereford. The next year, he and some of the bishops fell under the king’s displeasure, because they could not be brought to give their consent in Parliament, that the monasteries should be suppressed for the king’s sole use. He also strenuously opposed the Act for the six articles, in the house of lords. It has been observed by a late biographer, that he never appeared in a more truly Christian light than on this occasion. In the midst of so general a defection (for there were numbers in the house who had hitherto shewn great forwardness in reformation), he alone made a stand. Three days he maintained his ground, and baffled the arguments of all opposers. But argument was not their weapon, and the archbishop saw himself obliged to sink under superior power. Henry ordered him to leave the house. The primate refused “It was God’s business,” he said, “and not man’s.” And when he could do no more, he boldly entered his protest, and upon the passing of the statute, sent his wife into Germany. In 1540 he was one of the commissioners for inspecting into matters of religion, and explaining some of its chief doctrines. The result of their commission was the book entitled “A necessary erudition of any Christian man.” After lord Cromwell’s death (in whose behalf he had written to the king), he retired, and lived in great privacy, meddling not at all with state affairs. In 1541, he gave orders, pursuant to the king’s directions, for taking away superstitious shrines; and exchanging Bishopsbourn for Bekesbourn, united the latter to his diocese. In 1542 he procured the “Act for the advancement of true religion, and the abolishment of the contrary,” which moderated the rigour of the six articles. But, the year following, some persons preferring accusations against him, for being an enemy to popery, he would have been ruined, had not the king interposed in his behalf. He was complained of in the house of commons, and in the privycouncil, and was very near being sent to the Tower; but the king protected him, and gave him his ring, as a token that he took the affair into his own hands. The substance of the accusations against him, which were contrived by Gardiner, the implacable enemy to the reformation, was.

Vol.X. H H “that he, with his learned men, had so infected the whole realm with their unsavoury doctrine, that three parts of the land were hecome abominable heretics. And that it might prove dangerous to the king, being likely to produce such commotions and uproars as were sprung up in Germany. And therefore, they desired that the archbishop might be cojnmitted to the Tower, till he could be examined.” In 1545 he undertook to reform the canonlaw; but the book he compiled upon that subject, was, through bishop Gardiner’s artifices, never confirmed by the king. He likewise corrected some service, or prayerbooks. Upon king Henry’s decease, he was one of the executors of his will, and one of the regents of the kingdom. February the 20th, 1545-6, he crowned king Edward VI. to whom he had been godfather; as he was also to the lady Elizabeth. Soon after, he took out a commission for executing his office of archbishop; and caused the Homilies to be composed, being himself the author of some of them; and likewise encouraged the translation of Erasmus’s paraphrase on the New Testament. He also laboured earnestly in the reformation of religion; and for that purpose, procured the repeal of the Six Articles, the establishment of the Communion in both kinds, and a new office for that sacrament, the revisal and amendment of the rest of the offices of the church, frequent preaching, a royal visitation to inspect into the manners and abilities of the clergy, and visited his own diocese himself for the same purpose. He likewise showed himself a patron to the universities, in defending their rights, securing their revenues, and encouraging learning. In 1549, he was one of the commissioners for examining bishop Bonner, with a power to imprison or deprive him of his bishopric. Upon the insurrection in Devonshire, he expressed hie zeal for religion and his prince, by giving an excellent" and full answer to the rebels’ articles, and ordered sermons to be composed and preached upon that occasion. The same year he ordained several priests and deacons according to the new form of ordination in the Common-prayer book; which, through the archbishop’s care, was now finished and settled by act of parliament*. A review was made of this

* The persons by whom it was com- of London Thomas Goodrich, bishop

bishop of Canterbury; Nicolas Rid- Lincoln; John Skip, bishop of Hereley, bishop of Rochester, afterwards ford; Thomas Thirlby, bishop of Westbook towards the end of the next year, and several things changed or amended that were thought to savour too much of superstition. In 1552, it was printed again with amendments and alterations, by the archbishop’s care, and authorized by parliament. This same year, he and some others compiled the articles of religion, and caused them, to be enjoined by the king’s authority. He confined not his care to the church of England, but extended it also to those protestant foreigners who fled to England, by obtaining churches for them, and recommending them to the favour and protection of the crown.

His palace at Lambeth, says Mr. Gilpin, might be called a seminary of learned men; the greater part of whom persecution had driven from home. Here, among other celebrated reformers, Martyr, Bucer, Aless, Pha.je, found sanctuary. Martyr, Bucer, and Phage, were liberally pensioned by the archbishop, till he could otherwise provide for them. It was his wish to fix them in the two universities, where he hoped their great knowledge and spirit of inquiry would forward his designs of restoring learning; and he at length obtained professorships for them all. Bucer and Phage were settled at Cambridge; where they only shewed what might have been expected from them, both dying within a few months after their arrival. But at Oxford, Martyr acted a very conspicuous part; and contributed to introduce among the students there a very liberal mode of thinking. Aless had been driven from Scotland, his native country, for the novelty of his opinions. The cause in which he suffered, added to his abilities and learning, so far recommended him to the university of Leipsic, to which he retired, that he was chosen a professor there. At this place he became acquainted with Melancthon, who, having written a treatise on some part of the controversy between the papists and protestants, was desirous of consulting the archbishop on a few points; and engaged Aless, otherwise not averse to the employment, to undertake a voyage into England for that purpose. In the course of the conference, the archbishop was

minster, afterwards of Ely; George Paul’s; Dr. Thomas Robertson, archDay, bishop of Chichester; Dr. John deacon of Leicester, afterwards dean Taylor, dean, afterwards bishop of of Durham; Dr. Simon Heines, dean Lincoln; Dr. Richard Cox, chancellor of Exeter; and Dr. John Rednflayne, of Oxford, and dean of Christ-church master of Trinity-college, in Camand Westminster, afterwards bishop of bridge. Ely Dr. Willia'm May, dean of St. so much taken with his simplicity and learning, that he settled a pension on him, and retained him in his family. The misfortunes of the times drew Alasco also into England, where the archbishop became an early patron to him; and shewed on this occasion at least, the candour and liberality of his sentiments, by permitting a person who held many opinions very different from his own, to collect his brethren, and such as chose to communicate ttith him, into a church. At the head of this little assembly Alasco long presided, exhibiting an eminent example of piety and decency of manners. Among other learned foreigners, John Sleidan was under particular obligations to the archbishop. Sleidan was at that time engaged in writing the “History of the Reformation,” a work from which much was expected; and which the archbishop, by allowing him a pension, and opportunities of study, enabled him to prosecute with less difficulty than Jiad attended the beginning of his labours.

Another point that much employed Cranmer’s thoughts, was, to preserve the revenues of the church, which the courtiers were parcelling out among themselves. As the archbishop had in 1534- endeavoured to save the lives of bishop Fisher and sir Thomas More so now, when Tonjtall bishop of Durham came into trouble, and a bill was brought into the house of lords for attainting him for misprision of treason, Cranmer spoke freely, and protested against it, though they two were of different persuasions. In 1533, he opposed the new settlement of the crown upon lady Jane Gray, and would no way be concerned in that affair, (though at last, through many importunities, he was prevailed upon to set his hand to it,) neither would he join in any of Dudley’s ambitious projects. However, upon king Edward the Vlth’s decease, he appeared for Jane Gray. Soon after, it being reported that he had offered to sing mass at the funeral of the late king, he vindicated himself in a declaration.

After queen Mary’s accession to the throne, so obnoxious an enemy to popery could not long escape, and accordingly he was first ordered to appear before the council, and bring an inventory of his goods; which he did August the 27th, when he was commanded to keep his house, and be forth-coming. September the 13th, he was again summoned before the council, and enjoined to be at the Starchamber the next day, when he was committed to the Tower; partly, for setting his hand to the instrument of the lady Jane’s succession; and, partly, for the public offer he had made a little before, of justifying openly“the religious proceedings of the late king. Some of his friends, foreseeing the storm that was likely to fall upon him, advised him to fly, but he absolutely refused, as unworthy of his character and the station he held. In the ensuing parliament, on November the 3d, he was attainted, and at Guildhall found guilty of high treason; on which the fruits of his archbishopric were sequestered; yet, upon his humble and repeated application, he was pardoned the treason, but it was resolved he should be proceeded against for heresy. In April 1554, he, and Ridley and Latimer, were removed to Oxford, for a public disputation with the papists on the subject of the sacrament; which was accordingly held there towards the middle of the month, with great noise, triumph, and confidence on the papists’ side, and with as much gravity, learning, modesty, and argument on the side of the protestant bishops. The 20th of April, two days after the end of these disputations, Cranmer and the two others were brought before the commissioners, and asked, whether they would subscribe (to Popery)? which they unanimously refusing, were condemned as heretics. From this sentence the archbishop appealed to the just judgment of the Almighty; and wrote to the council, giving them an account of the disputation, and desiring the queen’s pardon for his treason, which it seems was not yet remitted. By the convocation, which met this year, his” Defence of the true and Catholic doctrine of the Sacrament of the Body and Blood of our Saviour Christ," was ordered to be burnt. Some of his friends petitioned the queen in his behalf; putting her in mind, how he had once preserved her, by his earnest intercessions for her, when her father had determined to send her to the Tower, and make her suffer for disobedience to the laws; so that she had reason to believe he loved her, and would speak the truth to her, more than all the rest of the clergy. But all these endeavours were ineffectual. The sentence pronounced against him by Weston at Oxford being void in law, because the Pope’s authority was not yet re-established in England, a new commission was sent from Rome for his trial and conviction. Accordingly, on September the 12th, 1555, he appeared before the commissioners; viz. Brooks bishop of Gloucester, for the pope; and Drs. Martin and Story for the queen: the commission was opened at St. Mary’s church, Oxford, and Cranmer was accused of blasphemy and heresy, for his writings against popery; of perjury, for breaking his oath to the pope; and of incontinency, or adultery, on account of his being married: against all which he vindicated himself. At last, he was cited to appear *at Rome within eighty days, to answer in person; which he said he would do, if the king and queen would send him, but this was not done, and therefore the pope dispatched, on December the 14th, his letters executory to the king and queen, and to Bonner and Thirlby bishops of London and Ely, to degrade and deprive him. In these letters, Cranmer was declared contumacious, for not appearing at Rome within eighty days, according to his citation; as if he could have appeared at Rome, when he was all the while kept a prisoner. Upon the arrival of the letters, Bonner and Thirlby, with Dr. Martin and Dr. Story the king’s and queen’s proctors, went to Oxford to degrade him. They dressed him in all the garments and ornaments of an archbishop, only in mockery every thing was of canvass and old clouts: and then he was, piece by piece, stripped of all again. When they came to take the crosier gut of his hand, he refused to part with it, and appealed to the next general council. After he was degraded, they put him on a poor yeoman -beadle’s gown, thread- bare, and a towns-man’s cap, and remanded him to prison. From thence he wrote letters to the queen, to give her an impartial account of vyhat had passed at his degradation, to prevent mis-reports, and to justify himself in what he had said and done; and hitherto he manifested a great deal of courage and wisdom in his sufferings; but at last human frailty made him commit what he felt as the greatest blemish of his life. For, through flatteries, promises, importunities, threats, and the fear of death, he was prevailed upon to sign a recantation *, wherein he renounced the Protestant

* Strype informs us that archbishop have received the pope’s authority Cranmcr was subtilly drawn in by the within this realm, I am content to subpapists to subscribe six different pa- mit myself to their laws herein, and to pers the fust being expressed in am- take the pope for chief head of this biguous words, capable of a favoura- chuich of England, so far as God’s ble construction, tiVe five following were laws, and the laws and customs of thi| added as explanations of it. That first realm, will permit.“In the nrxt, he recantation was in these words,” For submitted himself to the Catholic as much as the king’s and queen’s ma- church of Clirist, and unto the pope, jesties, by consent of their parliament, supreme head of the same church. In religion, and embraced again all the errors of popery; which, recantation was immediately printed and dispersed about by his enemies. Notwithstanding that, the merciless queen, not satisfied with this conquest, resolved to glut her revenge, by committing Cranmer to the flames. Accordingly, she sent for Dr. Cole, provost of Eton, and gave him instructions to prepare a sermon for that mournful occasion; and on the 24th of February a writ was signed for the execution. The 2 1st day of March, the fatal day, he was brought to St. Mary’s church, and placed on a kind of stage over against the pulpit, where Dr. Cole was to preach. While Cole was haranguing, the unfortunate Cranmer expressed great inward confusion; often lifting up his hands and eyes to heaven; and frequently pouring out floods of tears. At the end of the sermon, when Cole desired him to make an open profession of his faith, as he had promised him he would; he, first, prayed in the most fervent manner; then made an exhortation to the people present, not to set their minds upon the world; to obey

the third, he submitted to the king and qii'vn, and to all their laws, as well concerning the pope’s supremacy, as others: and promised, that he would stir and move all others to live in quietness and obedience to their majesties. As for his book, he was content to submit to the judgment of the Catholic church, and the next general council. Tiiis was followed by a fourth, wherein be- professed firmly, stedfastly, and assnndly to believe in all articles and points of the Christian religion and Catholic faith, as the Catholic church doih believe. Moreover, as concerning the sacraments, he declared he believed uiiiVig-iiediy in all poinis as the said Catholic church did. In the fifth paper, which is that in Fox, and has been thought to be his only recantation, they required of him, to renounce and anathematize all Lutheran and Zumglian heresies and errors; to acknowledge the one only Catholic church, to be that whereof the pope is the head; and to declare him Christ’s vicar. Then followed an express acknowledgment of transubstantiation, the seven sacraments, and of all the doctrines of the church of Rome in general. A sixth was still required of him, which was drawn up in so strong terms, that nothing was capable of being added to it. For it contained a large acknowledgment of all the popish errors and corruptions, and a most grievous accusation of himself as a blasphemer, enemy of Christ, and murderer of souls, on account of his being the author of king Henry’s divorce, and of all the calamities, schisms, and heresies of which that was the fountain. This was subscribed on the 18lh of March. These six papers were, soon after his death, sent to the press by Bonner, and published with the addition of another, which they had prepared for him to speak at St. Mary’s, before his execution: and though he then spoke to a quite contrary effect, and revoked his former recantations, Bonner had the confidence to publish this to the world, as if it had been approved and made use of by the archbishop. In 1736, William Whiston, M. A. published a little book, entitled “An Enquiry into the Evidence of Archbishop Cranmer’s Recantation: or reasons for a suspicion that the pretended copy of it is not genuine.” In this he supposes, that what Cranmer signed, was only the first part of the Recantation printed in Fox’s “Acts and Monuments,” as far as the words -“without which there is no Salvation,” that the rest was added by the papists, but that Cranmer never set his hand to it. the king and queen; to love each other; and to be charitable. After this he made a confession of his faith, beg nning with the Creed, and concluding with these words, “And I believe every word and sentence taught by our Saviour Jesus Christ, his apostles and prophets, in the Old and New Testament. And now,” added he, “I come to the great thing, that so much troubleth my conscience more than any thing I ever did or said in my whole life-; and that is the setting abroad a writing contrary to the truth, which 1 here now renounce as things written with my hand contrary to the truth which 1 thought in my heart, and written for fear of death, and to save my life if it might be; that is, all such bills and papers which I have written or signed with my hand since my degradation, wherein I have written many things untrue. And forasmuch as my hand offended, writing contrary to my heart, my hand shall first be punished; for, may I come to the fire, it shall be first burned. As for the pope, I refuse him, as Christ’s enemy and antichrist, with all his false doctrine. And as for the Sacrament, I believe as I have taught in my book against the bishop of Winchester.” Thunderstruck as it were with this unexpected declaration, the enraged popish crowd admonished him not to dissemble: “Ah,” replied he with tears, “since I lived hitherto, I have been a hater of falsehood, and a lover of simplicity, and never before this time have I dissembled.” On this, they pulled him off the stage with the utmost fury, and hurried him to the place of his martyrdom, over against Baliol-college; where he put off his clothes in haste, and standing in his shirt, and without shoes, was fastened with a chain to the stake. Some pressing him to agree to his former recantation, he answered, showing his hand, “This is the hand that wrote it, and therefore it shall first suffer punishment.” Fire being applied to him, he stretched out his right hand into the flame, and held it there unmoved (except that once with it he wiped his face) till it was consumed, crying with a loud voice, “This hand hath offended;” and often repeating, “This unworthy right hand.” At last, the fire getting up, he soon expired, never stirring or crying out all the while, only keeping his eyes fixed to heaven, and repeating more than once, “Lord Jesus, receive my spirit.” Such was the end of the renowned Thomas Cranmer, in the 67th year of his age, a man who deservedly ranks high among the most illustrious characters in ecclesiastical history, although his conduct was not in all respects free from blame. Of the two instances in which Cranmer has been accused of retaining the spirit of persecution, after he had got rid of every other attribute of popery, Mr. Gilpin gives the following account: “Joan Bocher and George Paris were accused, though at different times, one for denying the humanity of Christ the other for denying his divinity. They were both tried, and condemned to the stake: and the archbishop not only consented to these acts of blood; but even persuaded the aversion of the young king into a compliance.” Your majesty must distinguish (said he, informing his royal pupil’s conscience) between common opinions, and such as are the essential articles of faith. These latter we must on no account suffer to be opposed.“Mr. Gilpin justly observes, that” nothing even plausible can be suggested in defence of the archbishop on this occasion; except only that the spirit of popery was not yet wholly repressed." That he was not, however, a man of blood, and that in every case of personal injury he was the most placable of human beings, is amply confirmed by all authorities. The last act of Henry’s reign, says the same biographer, was an act of blood; and gave the archbishop a noble opportunity of shewing, how well he had learned that great Christian lesson of forgiving an enemy. Almost without the shadow of justice, Henry had given directions to have the duke of Norfolk attainted by an act of parliament. The king’s mandate stood in lieu of guilt; and the bill passed the house with great ease. No man, except the bishop of Winchester, had been so great an enemy to the archbishop as the duke of Norfolk. He had always thwarted the primate’s measures; and oftener than once had practised against his life. How many would have seen with secret pleasure the workings of Providence against so rancorous an enemy; satisfied in having themselves no hand in his unjust fate! But the archbishop saw the affair in another light; he saw it with horror: and although the king had in a particular manner interested himself in this business, the primate opposed the bill with all his might; and when his opposition was vain, he left the house with indignation, and retired to Croydon.

He was so remarkable for this placability of temper, and for shewing kindness to those by whom he had been greatly injured, that it is mentioned, by Shakspeare, as a common saying concerning him:

Bishop Burnet takes notice of some malevolent accusations that had been privately brought to the king against Cranmer, with a view to ruin him, including a charge of heresy, and on which subject his majesty conversed with him; and the bishop adds: “His candour and simplicity wrought so on the king, that he discovered to him the whole plot that was laid against him; and said, that instead of bringing him to any trial about it, he would have him try it out, and proceed against those his accusers. But he excused himself, and said it would not be decent for him to sit judge in his own cause. But the king said to him, he was resolved none other should judge it, but those he should name. So he named his chancellor and his register; to whom the king added another: and a commission being given them, they went into Kent, and sat three weeks to find out the first contrivers of this accusation. And now every one disowned it, since they saw he was still firmly rooted in the king’s esteem and favour. But it being observed, that the commissioners proceeded faintly, Cranmer’s friends moved, that some man of courage and authority might be sent thither, to canvass this accusation more carefully. So Dr. Lee, dean of York, was brought up about Allhallow-tide, and sent into Kent.And he, who had been well acquainted with the arts of discovering secrets, when he was one of the visitors of the abbies, managed it more vigorously. He ordered a search to be made of all suspected persons; among whose papers letters were found, both from the bishop of Winchester, and Dr. London, and some of those whom Cranmer had treated with the greatest freedom and kindness, in which the whole plot against him was discovered. But it was now near the session of parliament: and the king was satisfied with the discovery, but thought it not fit to make much noise of it. And he received no addresses from the archbishop to prosecute it further: who was so noted for his clemency, and following our Saviour’s rule of doing good for evil, that it was commonly said, the way to get his favour was to do him an injury. These were the only instances in which he expressed his resentments. Two of the conspirators against him had been persons signally obliged by him. The one was the bishop suffragan of Dover; the other was a civilian, whom he had employed much in his business. But all the notice he took of it was to shew them their letters, and to admonish them to be more faithful and honest for the future. Upon which he freely forgave them, and carried it so to them afterwards, as if he had absolutely forgotten what they had contrived against him. And a person of quality coming to him about that time, to obtain his favour and assistance in a suit, in which he was to move the king, he went about it, and had almost procured it: but the king calling to mind that he had been one of his secret accusers, asked him whether he took him for his friend. He answered that he did so. Then the king said, the other was a knave, and his mortal enemy; and bad him, when he should see him next, call him knave to his face. Cranmer answered, that such language did not become a bishop. But the king sullenly commanded him to do it; yet his modesty was such, that he could not obey so harsh a command. And so he passed the matter over. When these things came to be known, all persons, that were not unjustly prejudiced against him, acknowledged, that his behaviour was suitable to the example and doctrine of the meek and lowly Saviour of the world: and very well became so great a bishop, and such a reformer of the Christian religion; who in those sublime and extraordinary instances practised that which he taught others to do.”

As archbishop Cranmer was a learned man hiinself, so he was also a great patron of all solid learning, and of whatever he thought calculated to promote it. Mr. Gilpin observes, that the archbishop always thought himself much interested in the welfare of both the universities, but of Cambridge in particular; and though he does not appear to have bad any legal power there, yet such was his interest at court, and such was the general dependence of the more eminent members of that society upon him, that scarcely any thing was d,one there, either of a public or a private nature, without consulting him. It was his chief endeavour to encourage, as much as possible, a spirit of inquiry; and to rouse the students from the slumber of their predecessors; well knowing, the libertas philosophandi was the great mean of detecting error, and that true learning could never be at variance with true religion. Ascham and Cheke, two of the most elegant scholars of that age, were chiefly relied on, and consulted by the archbishop in this work. Leia'.id, also, the first British antiquary, was among the archbishop’s particular friends. Leland had a wonderful facility in learning languages, and was esteemed the first linguist in Europe. The archbishop soon took notice of him; and, with his usual discernment, recommended him to be the king’s librarian. His genius threw him on the study of antiquities; and his opportunities, on those of his own country. The archbishop, in the mean time, by procuring preferment for him, enabled him to make those inquiries to which his countrymen have been so much indebted.

Among others, who were under obligations to the archbishop’s generosity, was the amiable bishop Latimer, who not choosing to be reinstated in his old bishopric, and having made but an indifferent provision for his future necessities, spent a great part of his latter life with the archbishop, at Lambeth; and besides this intimacy with learned men at home, the archbishop held a constant correspondence with most of the learned men in Europe. The great patron of Erasmus had been archbishop Warham; than whom, to give popery its due, few churchmen of those times led a more apostolical life. When Cranmer succeeded Warham, Erasmus was in the decline of age. He found, however, during the short time he lived, as beneficent a friend under the new archbishop, as he had lost in the old one. The primate corresponded also with Osiander, Melancthon, and Calvin. His foreign correspondence, indeed, was so large, that he appointed a person with a salary at Canterbury, whose chief employment it was, to forward and receive his packets.

Of the learning of archbishop Cranmer, Mr. Gilpin remarks, that it was chiefly confined to his profession. He had applied himself in Cambridge to the study of the Greek and Hebrew languages; which though esteemed at that time as the mark of heresy, appeared to him the only sources of attaining a critical knowledge of the scriptures. He had so accurately studied canon-law, that he was esteemed the best canonist in England: and his reading in theology was so extensive, and IiHi collections from the fathers so very voluminous, that there were few points in which he was not accurately informed; and on which he could not give the opinions of the several ages of the church from the times of the apostles. f< If I had not seen with my own eyes,“says Peter Martyr,” I could not easily have believed, with what infinite pains and labour he had digested his great reading into particular chapters, under the heads of councils, canons, decrees, &c. His parts were solid, rather than shining; and his memory such, that it might be called an index to the books he had read and the collections he had made.

He was a sensible writer, rather nervous than elegant. His writings were entirely confined to the great controversy which then subsisted; and contain the whole sum of the theological learning of those times. His library was filled with a very noble collection of books; and was open to all men of letters. “I meet with authors here,” Roger Ascham would say, “which the two universities cannot furnish.” At the archbishop’s death, the greater part of his original Mss. were left at his palace of Ford near Canterbury, where they fell into the hands of his enemies. In the days of Elizabeth, archbishop Parker, who had an intimation that many of them were still in being, obtained an order from lord Burleigh, then secretary of state, in 1563. to search for them in all suspected places; and recovered a great number of them. They found their way afterwards into some of the principal libraries of England; but the greatest collection of them were deposited in Bene't-college in Cambridge.

In his sermons to the people he was very plain and instructive; insisting chiefly on the essentials of Christianity. Sir Richard Morrison, a gentleman who had been much employed in embassies abroad, both under Henry the eighth and Edward the sixth, gives us this character of the archbishop’s sermons, of which he was a frequent auditor: “The subjects of his sermons, for the most part, were, from whence salvation is to be fetched and on whom the confidence of man ought to lean. They insisted much on doctrines of faith and works; and taught what the fruits of faith were, and what place was to be given to works. They instructed men in the duties they owed their neighbour; and that every one was our neighbour, to whom we might any way do good. They declared, what men ought to think of themselves, after they had done all; and lastly, what promises Christ hath made; and who they are, to whom he will make them good. Thus he brought in the true preaching of the Gospel, altogether different from the ordinary way of preaching in those days, which was to treat concerning saints, to tell legendary tales of them, and to report miracles wrought for the confirmation of transubstantiation, and other popish corruptions. And such a heat of conviction accompanied his sermons, that the people departed from them with minds possessed of a great hatred of vice, and burning with a desire of virtue.”

He was a great ceconomist of his time. He rose commonly at five o'clock; and continued in his study till nine. These early hours, he would say, were the only hours he could call his own. After breakfast he generally spent the remainder of the morning either in public or private business. His chapel-hour was eleven; and his dinner-hour twelve. After dinner, he spent an hour either in conversation with his friends, in playing at chess, or in what he liked better, overlooking a chess-board. He then retired again to his study, till his chapel- bell rang at five. After prayers, he generally walked till six, which was, in those times, the hour of supper. His evening meal was sparing. Often he ate nothing; and when that was the case, it was his usual custom, as he sat down to table, to draw on a pair of gloves; which was as much as to say, that his hands had nothing to do. After supper, he spent an hour in walking, and another in his study, retiring to his bed-chamber about nine. This was his usual mode of living when he was most vacant; but very often his afternoons, as well as his mornings, were engaged in business. To this his chess-hour after dinner was commonly first assigned, and the remainder of the afternoon as the occasion required. He generally, however, contrived, if possible, even in the busiest day, to devote some proportion of his time to his books besides the morning. And Mr. Fox tells us, he always accustomed himself to read and write in a standing posture; esteeming constant sitting very pernicious to a studious man.

He was a very amiable master in his family; and admirably preserved the difficult medium between indulgence and restraint. He had, according to the custom of the times, a very numerous retinue; among whom the most exact order was observed. Every week the steward of his household held a kind of court in the great hall of his palace, in which all family affairs were settled; servants wages were paid; complaints were heard; and faults examined. Delinquents were publicly rebuked, and after the third admonition discharged. His hospitality and charities were great and noble, equal to his station, greater often than his abilities. A plentiful table was among the virtues of those days. His was always bountifully covered. In an upper room was spread his own; where he seldom wanted company of the first distinction. Here a great many learned foreigners were daily entertained, and partook of his bounty. In his great hall a long table was plentifully covered, every day, for guests and strangers of a lower rank; at the upper end of which were three smaller tables, designed for his own officers, and inferior gentlemen. The learned Tremellius, who had himself often been an eye-witness of the archbishop’s hospitality, gives this character of it: “Archiepiscopi domus, publicum erat doctis, et piis omnibus hospitium; quod ipse hospes, Mcecenas, et pater, talibus semper patere voluit, quoad vixit, aut potuit homo piXofevo; nee minus <pi*o*oyoj.”

Among other instances of the archbishop’s charity, we have one recorded which was truly noble. After the destruction of monasteries, and before hospitals were erected, the nation saw no species of greater misery, than that of wounded and disbanded soldiers. For the use of such miserable objects, as were landed on the southern coasts of the island, the archbishop fitted up his manor-house of Beckesburn in Kent. He formed it indeed into a complete hospital; appointing a physician, a surgeon, nurses, and every thing proper, as well for food as physic. Nor did his charity stop here. Each man, on his recovery, was furnished with money to carry him home, in proportion to the distance of his abode.

It has been taken notice of, that after the passing of the act for the six articles, archbishop Cranmer sent his wife into Germany. But she afterwards returned again to England; and Mr. Strype informs us, that " in the time of king Edward, when the marriage of the clergy was allowed, he brought her forth, and lived openly with- her. 7 ' He left behind him a widow and children but as he always kept his family in obscurity, for prudential reasons, we know little about them. They had been kindly provided for by Henry VIII.; who, without any solicitation from the primate himself, gave him a considerable grant from the abbey of Welbeck in Nottinghamshire; which his family enjoyed after his decease. King Edward made some addition to his private fortune: and his heirs were restored in blood by an act of parliament, in the reign of Elizabeth.

His printed works are, 1. An account of Mr. Pole’s book, concerning king Henry Vlllth’s Marriage. 2. Several Letters to divers persons to king Henry VIII. to secretary Cromwell to sir William Cecil to foreign divines. 3. Three discourses upon his review of the king’s book, entitled “The Erudition of a Christian man.” 4. Other Discourses of his. 5. The Bishops’ Book, in which he had a part. 6. Answers to the fifteen articles of the rebels in Devonshire in 1549. 7. The examination of most points of religion. 8. A form for the alteration of the mass into a communion. 9. Some of the homilies. 10. A catechism, entitled “A short Instruction to Christian Religion, for the singular profit of children and young people.” 11. Against unwritten verities. 12. A defence of the true and catholic doctrine of the Sacrament of the Body and Blood of our Saviour Christ; with a confutation of sundry errors concerning the same. Grounded and established upon God’s holy word, and approved by the consent of the most ancient doctors of the church. This was translated into Latin by John Young. In opposition to it, Gardiner published “An Explication and Assertion of the true Catholic Faith touching the most blessed Sacrament of the Altar, with the Confutation of a book wrote against the same.” 13. Cranmer replied in the following book, “An Answer by the reverend father in God, Thomas Archbishop of Canterbury, Primate of all England, and Metropolitan, unto a crafty and sophistical caviilation, devised by Stephen Gardiner, doctor of law, late bishop of Winchester, against the true and godly doctrine of the most Holy Sacrament of the Body and Blood of our Saviour Christ. Wherein is also, as occasion serveth, answered such places of the book of Dr. Richard Smith, as may seem any thing worthy the answering. Also a true Copy of the book written, and in open court delivered by Dr. Stephen Gardiner, not one word added or diminished, but faithfully in all points agreeing with the original,” London, 1551, reprinted in 1580. It was translated into Latin by sir John Cheke. An answer was also made to this book by Stephen Gardiner, under the feigned name of Marcus Antonius Constantinus, and entitled “Confutatio cavillationum, quibus sacrosanctum Eucharistiae Sacramentum ab impiis Capernaitis impeti soiet.” Paris, 1552. 14. Craumer began an Answer to this, and finished three parts of it, but lived not to complete the whole. 15. Preface to the English translation of the Bible. 16. A Speech in the house of lonls, concerning a general council. 17. Letter to king Henry VIII. in justification of Anne Boleyn, May 3, 15‘35. Is. The Reasons that led him to oppose the Six Articles. For this he had like to come into great trouble, as may be seen in Fox. 19. Resolution of some questions concerning the Sacrament. 20. Injunctions given at his visitation within the diocese of Hereford. ’Jl. A collection, of passages out of the canon law, to shew the necessity of reforming it. 22. Some queries in order to the correcting of several abuses. 23. Concerning a farther reformation, and against sacrilege. 24. Answers to some queries concerning confirmation. 25. Some considerations offered to king Edward VI. to induce him to proceed to a farther reformation. 26. Answer to the lords of the privy-council. 27. Manifesto against the Mass.

, the last celebrated philosopher of the Old Academy, a native of Soli in Cilicia, flourished about 30O years B. C. and died about the 270th year B. C. He studied under Xenocrates and Polemo; and he was the first who wrote commentaries on the works of Plato, whose system he supported. He was highly celebrated for the purity of his moral doctrine, as we may infer from the praises that are bestowed by the ancients upon his discourse “On Grief,” which Cicero calls “a small but golden piece, adapted to heal the wounds of the mind, not by encouraging stoical insensibility, but by suggesting arguments drawn from the purest fountains of philosophy.” That Grantor acquired great reputation as a moral preceptor is intimated by Horace.

, an English poet, was the son of the rev. William Crashaw, a divine of some note in his day, and preacher at the Temple church, London. He published several volumes on points controverted between the Roman catholics and protestants, either original or translated; and in 1608, a translation of the Life of Galeacius Caracciolo, marquis of Vico, an Italian nobleman, who was converted by the celebrated reformer Peter Martyr, and forsook all that rank, family, and wealth could yield, for the quiet enjoyment of the reformed religion. Mr. Crashaw also translated a supposed poem of St. Bernard’s, entitled “The Complaint or Dialogue between the Soule and the Bodie of a damned man,” 1616, and in the same year published a “Manual for true Catholics, or a handfull or rather a heartfull of holy Meditations and Prayers.” All these show him to have been a zealous protestant; but, like his son, somewhat tinctured with a love of mystic poetry and personification.

Our poet was born in London, but in what year is uncertain. In his infancy, sir Henry Yelverton and sir Randolph Crew undertook the charge of his education, and afterwards procured him to be placed in the Charter- house on the foundation, where he improved in an extraordinary degree under Brooks, a very celebrated master. He was thence admitted of Pembroke-hall, March 1632, and took his bachelor’s degree in the same college, in 1634. He then removed to Peterhouse, of which he was a fellow in 1637, and was admitted to his master’s degree in 1633. In 1634, he published a volume of Latin poem?, mostly of the devotional kind, dedicated to Benjamin Lang, master of Pembroke- hall. This contained the well-known line, which has sometimes been ascribed to Dryden and others, on the miracle of turning water into wine:

In 1641, Wood informs us, he took degrees at Oxford. At what time he was admitted into holy orders is uncertain, but he soon became a popular preacher, full of energy and enthusiasm. In 1644, when the parliamentary army expelled those members of the university who refused to take the covenant, Crashaw was among the number; and being unable to contemplate with resignation or indifference, the ruins of the church-establishment, went over to France, where his sufferings and their peculiar influence on his mind prepared him to embrace the Roman catholic religion. Before he left England, he appears to have practised many of the austerities of a mistaken piety, and the poems entitled “Steps to the Temple,” were so called in allusion to his passing his time almost constantly in St. Mary’s church, Cambridge. “There,” says the author of the preface to his poems, “he lodged under Tertullian’s roof of angels; there he made his nest more gladly than David’s swallow near the house of God; where like a primitive saint he offered more prayers in the night, than others usually offer in the day; there he penned these poems,” Steps for happy souls to climb Heaven by.“The same writer informs us that he understood Hebrew, Greek, Latin, Italian, and Spanish, and was skilled in poetry, music, drawing, painting, and engraving, which last he represents as” recreations for vacant hours, not the grand business of his soul."

In 1646, the poet Cowley found Crashaw in France in great distress, and introduced him to the patronage of Charles the First’s queen, who gave him letters of recommendation to Italy. There he became secretary to one of the cardinals at Rome, and was made canon in the church of Loretto, where he died of a fever, soon after this last promotion, about the year 1650. Cowley’s very elegant and affectionate lines may be seen in the works of that poet. Mr. Hayley remarks, that “fine as they are, Cowley has sometimes fallen into the principal defect of the poet whom he is praising. He now and then speaks of sacred things with a vulgar and ludicrous familiarity of language, by which (to use a happy expression of Dr. Johnson’s), ` readers far short of sanctity, may be offended in the present age, when devotion, perhaps not more fervent, is more delicate. 1 Let us add, that if the poetical character of Crashaw seem not to answer this glowing panegyric; yet in his higher character of saint, he appears to have had the purest title to this affectionate eulogy.” It appears by a passage in Selden’s Table Talk, that Crashaw had at one time an intention of writing against the stage, and that Selden succeeded in diverting him from his purpose. He had not, however, to regret that the stage outlived the church.

Crashaw’s poems were first published in 1646, under the title of, 1. Steps to the Temple. 2. The Delights of the Muses. 3. Sacred Poems presented to the Countess of Denbigh. But Mr. Hayley is of opinion that this third class only was published at that time, and that the two others were added to the subsequent editions. So many republications within a short period, and that period not very favourable to poetry, sufficiently mark the estimation in which this devotional enthusiast was held, notwithstanding his having relinquished the church in which he had been educated. His poems prove him to have been of the school which produced Herbert and Quarles. Herbert was his model, and Granger attributes the anonymous poems, at the end of Herbert’s volume, to Crashaw; but however partial Crashaw might be to Herbert, it is impossible he could have been the author of these anonymoVis poems, which did not appear until after his death, and were written by a clergyman of the church of England known to Walton, who subjoins some commendatory lines dated 1654.

In 1785, the late Mr. Peregrine Phillips published a selection from Crashaw’s poems, with an address in which he attacks Pope, for having availed himself of the beauties of Crashaw, while he endeavoured to injure his fame. Against this accusation, Mr. Hayley has amply vindicated Pope. That he has horrowed from him is undeniable, and not unacknowledged by himself, but that it should be his intention to injure the fame of a writer whose writings were unknown, unless to poetical antiquaries, and that in a confidential letter to a friend whom he advised to read the poems as well as his opinion of them, is an absurdity scarcely worthy of refutation. Pope enumerates among Crashaw’s best pieces, the paraphrase on Psalm xxiii. the verses on Lessius, Epitaph on Mr. Ashton, Wishes to his supposed Mistress, and the Dies Irae. Dr. Warton recommends the translation from Moschus, and another from Catullus, and amply acknowledges the obligations of Pope and Roscommon to Crashaw. Mr. Hayley, after specifying some of Pope’s imitations of our author, conjectures that the elegies on St. Alexis suggested to him the idea of his Eloisa; but, adds he, “if Pope borrowed any thing from Crashaw in this article, it was only as the sun borrows from the earth, when drawing from thence a mere vapour, he makes it the delight of every eye, by giving it all the tender and gorgeous colouring of heaven.” Some of Crashaw’s translations are esteemed superior to his original poetry, and that of the “Sospetto d' Herod e,” from Marino, is executed with Milton ic grace and spirit. It has been regretted that he translated only the first book of a poem by which Milton condescended to profit in his immortal Epic. The whole was, however, afterwards translated and published in 1675, by a writer whose initials only are known, T. R. Of modern critics, Mr. Headley and Mr. Ellis have selected recommendatory specimens from Crashaw. In Mr. Headley’s opinion, “he has originality in many parts, and as a translator is entitled to the highest applause.” Mr. Ellis, with his accustomed judgment and moderation, pronounces that “his translations have considerable merit, but that his original poetry is full of conceit. His Latin poems were first printed in 1634, and have been much admired, though liable to the same objections as his English.”

, the most distinguished philosopher of the Cynic sect after Diogenes, was by birth a Theban, and flourished about the 113th olympiad, B. C. 328, and died after the year 287 B. C. He was honourably descended, and inherited a large estate; but when he devoted himself to philosophy, that he might be free from the dominion of those passions which are fostered by wealth, he distributed his whole properly among the poorer citizens. Leaving his native city, where he had been a disciple of Bryso, he went to Athens, and hecame a zealous disciple of Diogenes adopting all the singularities of his master. In his natural temper, however, he was not, like Diogenes, morose and gloomy, but cheerful and facetious. The following whimsical tarif of expences is attributed to him: To a cook should be given two minae, to a physician a drachma, to a flatterer five talents, to an adviser smoke, a talent to a courtezan, and three oboles to a philosopher. Being asked of what use philosophy was to him? “To teach me,” returned he, “to be contented with a vegetable diet, and to live exempt from care and trouble.” Alexander, curious to see this Cynic, offered to rebuild Thebes, the place of his nativity; “To what purpose?” interrogated Crates; “Another Alexander will destroy it afresh. The contempt of fame, and my complacency with poverty stand me in stead of a country: these are comforts that are above the reach of fortune.” Patient under injuries, he took no other revenge for a blow he had received from a certain Nicodromus, than by writing under the mark of it on his cheek, “Nicodromus fecit.” This disposition attached to him many friends, and procured for him access to the houses of the most wealthy Athenians, and he frequently became an arbiter of disputes and quarrels among relations. His influence in private families is said to have had a great e fleet in correcting the luxuries and vices which prevailed at that time in Athens. His wife, Hipparchia, who was rich and of a good family, and had many suitors, preferred Crates to every other, and when her parents opposed her inclination, so determined was her passion, she threatened to put an end to her life. Crates, at the request of her parents, represented to Hipparchia every circumstance in his condition and manner of -living, which might induce her to change her mind. Slill she persisted in her resolution, and not only became his wife, but adopted all the Cynic peculiarities. Disgraceful tales have been circulated concerning Crates and his wife; but since they do not appear in any writings of the period in which they lived, and are neither mentioned by Epictetus, who wrote an apology for the Cynic philosophy, nor by Lucian or Athenxus, who were so industrious in accumulating calumnies against philosophers, Brucker thinks they must be set down among the malicious fictions of later writers, who were desirous to bring the Cynic and Stoic sects into discredit. Had either Diogenes or Crates been the beasts which some have represented them, it is wholly incredible that Zeno and the Stoics would have treated their memory with so much respect.

There was another Crates, an Athenian, who succeeded Polemo in the direction of the old academy. Long attached to one another by a similarity of dispositions and pursuits, their friendship was uninterrupted whilst they lived, and they were both buried in the same grave. This Crates died about the year 250 B. C.

, an ancient comic poet, frequently mentioned by Quhuilian, Horace, and Persius, along with Eupolis and Aristophanes, as the great masters of what we call the ancient comedy, flourished in the 81st olympiad, about twenty or thirty years before Aristophanes. He was un Athenian, and appears to have spent his long life in his native city; where, if he did not invent comedy, he was at least the first who brought it into some form and method, and made it fit for the entertainment of a civilized audience, although it still retained many marks of its rude original. Persons and vices were exposed in barefaced satire, and the chief magistrates of the commonwealth ridiculed by name upon the stage. We find in Plutarch’s life of Pericles several passages out of Cratinus’s plays, where he reflected boldly on that great general. Cratinus appears to have been an excessive drinker, for which he offered the excuse that it was absolutely necessary to warm his fancy, and Horace quotes his authority to shew what short-lived things the offspring of water poets commonly prove. For the same reason, Aristophanes, in his “Irene,” attributes the death of Cratinus to the shock he received at the sight of a noble cask of wine split in pieces and washing the streets. The time of it is preserved in the same jest of Aristophanes, and referred to the year in which the Lacedaemonians first invested Athens; namely, in the 37th olympiad, or B. C. 431. Suidas tells us, that be wrote twenty-one plays, none of which are extant, and he gives only this short description of his excellencies, that he was “splendid and animated in his characters.”

, pronounced by Cicero to be by far the greatest of all the Peripatetic philosophers he ever heard, was of Mitylene, and taught philosophy there. He went afterwards to Athens, where he followed the sa'riie profession; and amongst his disciples had Cicero’s son. Cicero had an high esteem for him, and prevailed upon Ca;sar to grant him the freedom of Rome; and afterwards engaged the Areopagus to make a decree, by which Cratippns was desired to continue at Athens, as an ornament to the city, and to read lectures to the youth there. These lectures were probably interesting, as Brutus went to hear them when he was preparing for the war against Marc Antony. Cratippus had the art of making himself agreeable to his disciples, and of pleasing them by his conversation, which was free from austerity. This appears from a letter of young Cicero, where there is the following passage: “Know then that Cratippus loves me not as a disciple, but as a son; and as I am very well pleased to hear his lectures, so I am extremely delighted with the sweetness of his temper. I prevail with him whenever I can to sup with me; and this being now customary, he comes often to us unawares, when we are at supper; and, laying aside his philosophic gravity, he is so kind as to laugh and joke with us.” There are other proofs beside this, that Cratippus was a man who understood life as well as philosophy. After the battle of Pharsalia, Pompey went to Mitylene, where the inhabitants paid their respects to him, and Cratippus among them. Pompey complained, as Plutarch tells us, and disputed a little upon divine providence; but Cratippus gently yielded to him, giving him hopes of better times, lest he should have tired and vexed him with answering and refuting his objections. Cratippus wrote some pieces about divination; and is supposed to he the same with him whom Tertullian, in his book “De Anima,” has ranked among the writers upon dreams.

, a physician and voluminous writer, was born at Breslaw in 15iy. He received his first instruction under Philip Melancthon, and being intended for the church, he afterwards studied for six years under Martin Luther at Wittenburgh, but being more inclined to the practice of medicine, he was sent to Padua, and placed under professor Monti. He here took the degree of doctor, and returned and settled at Breslaw, whence, at the end of a few years, he was called to Vienna, and made physician and aulic counsellor to the emperor, Ferdinand I. He tilled the same post under the two succeeding emperors, Maximilian and Rodolph, which he notices in an epigram he composed a short time before his death:

His works were numerous the titles of the principal of them were, “De Morbo Gallico Commentarius,” Franc. 1594, 8vo; “De vera praecavendi et curandi Febrem contagiosam pestiientem ratione,” 1594; “Methodus Therapeutica ex Galeni et Montani Sententia.” There were also published seven volumes in 8vo, of Epistles and Consultations; and, according to Niceron, he was the editor of Luther’s “Table Talk;” or, as some say, that work was compiled from his recollections of conversation with Lmher, but this seems doubtful. He died Nov. 9, 1585.

was born at Drumsoy near Glasgow, 1665, and brought up to the law; but seldom went to the bar, his taste being confined to history and antiquities, in which he made very great progress. He was appointed historiographer-royal of Scotland by queen Anne, and it was at that time thought that no man ever deserved that place better. In 1706 he published, 8vo, “Memoirs of Scotland” during the times of the four regents, which has gone through two editions. The “Peerage,” and “History of the Stuart Family,” attributed to him in the last edition of this Dictionary, belong to George Crawfurd, of whom we have no account; but, perhaps, with more reason, the Biographia Dramatica attributes to him two plays, “Courtship Alamode,” 1700, and “Love at first Sight,” 1704. He is said to have died at Drumsoy, 1726.

Crawfurd’s “Memoirs” have hitherto been held in considerable estimation, and frequently quoted as authorities; but a discovery has lately been made which proves him to Jiave been in one instance at least, shamefully regardless of veracity, and has procured him the disgrace of being “the first Scotchman who published his own compositions as the genuine productions of a former age.” This discovery was made by Mr. Laing, the editor of “The Historic and Life of king James the sext,” published in 1804, 8vo. He informs us that in Crawfurd’s “Memoirs of the Affairs of Scotland,” references occur to a ms. in support of certain positions, which includes nothing that in the least countenances them, and the above “Historic,” printed from that identical ms. amply confirms this heavy charge, “the earliest, if not the most impudent literary furgery ever practised in Scotland.” Every circumstance in the ms. unfavourable either to queen Mary or to Bothwell, or favourable to their adversaries, Crawford carefully suppressed; while every vague assertion in Camden, Spottiswood, Melvill, and others, or in the state papers which Crawfurd had transcribed from the Cotton Mss. is inserted in the Memoirs; and these writers are quoted on the margin as collateral authorities, confirming the evidence of some unknown contemporary. Fictions, invented by Crawfurd himself, are profusely intermixed: and even the illdigested form of the genuine narrative is a pretext for the transposition and alteration of facts. Crawfurd, having thus, on the narrow basis of the original ms. constructed spurious memoirs of his own, “declares solemnly that he has not wrested any of the words to add to one man’s credit, or to impair the honesty of another: that he has neither heightened nor diminished any particular character or action; but that he has kept as close as possible to the meaning and sense of his author;” and even in his titlepage professes that the work “is faithfully published from an authentic manuscript.” The Memoirs, adds the editor of the “Historic,” have been quoted as genuine by Hume and Robertson, and their authority has been re-echoed by disputants as a full confirmation of the most absolute fictions. Nor is it possible to acquit Goodall of connivance at the fraud: he had collated the memoirs with two copies of the original ms. and was conscious of the imposture, which, in the preface to the second edition, he endeavours partly to vindicate, and partly to conceal.

, was born at Kelso, 1676, and educated in the university of Edinburgh, where he took his degrees, and was ordained minister of a small country parish in the Merse. In 1711 he made a most vigorous opposition to the settlement of ministers by presentations instead of election by the people, in which he was supported by some of the most popular clergy in Scotland. In 1734 he took part with Messrs. Ralph and Ebenezer Erskine, in their general sentiments, but did not think proper to join with them in their leaving the established church. He wrote a small work entitled “Dying Thoughts;” and some “Sermons,” which have been published in 2 vols. 12mo. He died 1742, aged sixty-six.

, an eminent artist, was born at Antwerp in 1585, and was a disciple of Raphael Coxis, the son of that Coxis who had studied under Raphael; but Crayer soon shewed such proofs of genius, that he far surpassed his master, and therefore quitted him. Afterwards he made judicious observations on the particular excellencies of the most renowned masters, and taking nature for his constant guide, formed for himself a manner that was extremely pleasing. The first work which established him in the favour of the court of Brussels, was a portrait of cardinal Ferdinand, brother to the king of Spain, a full length, as large as life, in which he succeeded so happily, that when it was viewed by the court at Madrid it laid the foundation of his fame and fortune. The king sent him a gold chain with a medal; and added, as a farther instance of his favour, a considerable pension. The testimony of Rubens was also highly in his favour, who went to Antwerp to visit Crayer, and after examining attentively a picture of his painting in the refectory of the abbey of Affleghem, he publicly declared that no painter could surpass Crayer. Nor was he less distinguished by Vandyck, who always expressed a friendship for him, and painted his portrait. It has been said that he had somewhat less fire in his compositions than Rubens; but that his design was frequently more correct. Yet, says Mr. Fuseli, let not this high strain of commendation seduce the reader to imagine that Crayer was a painter of the same rank with Rubens. If he was more equal, the reason lay in his inferiority. Rubens had the flights, the falls, and the neglects of genius. Crayer steered a middle course, and preserved dignity by caution. His composition generally consisted of a small number of figures; and he very judiciously avoi ded the encumbering his design with superfluous particulars, or loading his subject with any thing that seemed not to contribute to its elegance. He grouped his figures with skill, and his expressions have all the truth of nature. There is a remarkable variety in his draperies, and an equal degree of simplicity in their folds; and his colouring is admirable. Of all his contemporaries he was reckoned to approach nearest to Vandyck, not only in history, but in portrait. He principally painted religious subjects, and was continually at work; and although he lived to a great age, yet his temperance and regular habits preserved the full use of his faculties; and to the last month of his long life his pencil retained the same force and freedom which it possessed in his most vigorous days. He died in 1669, aged eighty-four. The subject of the picture which was so highly honoured by the approbation of Rubens, is the centurion alighting from his horse to prostrate himself at the feet of Christ. Yet sir Joshua Reynolds says of it, that though it cannot be said to be defective in drawing or colouring, it is far from being a striking picture. There is no union between his figures and the ground; the outline is every where seen, which takes away the softness and richness of effect; the men are insipid characters, and the women want beauty. The composition is something on the plan of the great picture of Rubens in the St. Augustins at Antwerp: that is, the subject is of the same kind, but there is a great difference indeed in their degree of merit.

, 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.

Become, however, more calm, he wrote his tragedy of “Idomeneus,” the success of which consoled him for his former misfortune. Its action, indeed, was feeble, its style negligent, and the fable unpleasing, yet some particular beauties caused the faults, both of the plan and of the execution, to be pardoned. He made a single bound from “Idomeneus” to “Atreus and Thyestes,” a tragedy which left the former far behind it. The interest in the latter piece is not, perhaps, much more considerable than in “Idomeneus” but the action is more lively and attractive the style, without being much more correct, has more colour and strength and the beauties are more frequent and srnkiug. This tragedy long kept its place on the stage, but the horrid catastrophe by which it is terminated, has always injured the complete success of the piece at its revivals, as it did during its novelty.

The character of horror for which “Atreus” was reproached, was softened by the author, not without some regret, in his tragedy of “Electra,” which soon followed, and which obtained great and deserved success; and although the critics pointed out some defects in the management of the fable, the interesting nature of the subject, the warmth of the action, happy and impressive lines, the character of Electra, drawn with a firm and noble pencil, and the superior beauty of the part of Palamedes, united all suffrages.

After the success of “Electra,” it might have been supposed that Crebillon’s dramatic glory had been at its height, as he had already left behind him the whole swarm of tragic poets who lingered on the scene after Corneille and Racine. He surpassed himself, however, in “Rhadamistus,” his master-piece; bold and lofty in its design, original and vigorous in its execution. The characters of Rhadamistus, Zenobia, and Pharasmanes, are drawn with equal energy and warmth; the action is interesting and animated; the situations striking and theatrical; the style is marked with a kind of savage dignity, which seems to be the characteristic quality of this tragedy, and to distinguish it from all others. The subject of “Rhadamistus” had wonderfully delighted Crebillon. The part of Pharasmanes, the implacable enemy of Roman ambition and arrogance, gave scope to the author to display in all its force the deep and lively hatred with which he was himself penetrated for “tyrants of the universe;” for this was the title he always gave to the Romans, whose annals awaken so many ideas of glory, and whose glory made so many wretched. He considered the conquests of this insolent and cruel nation, and the chains which it imposed upon so many nations, as one of the greatest calamities which had ever befallen the human race. We know not how far the English reader may understand the merits of this piece from Mr. Murphy’s tragedy of Zenobia, professedly taken from it, and which was at one time very popular. Of Crebillon’s “Rhadamistus,” two editions were printed in a week. It received the highest applause at Versailles, which in this instance agreed with Paris; and the author’s friends pressed him to shew himself at court, to enjoy his triumph, and to receive thence those favours which his narrow fortune rendered necessary. Full of those fallacious hopes, he repaired to Versailles, but was totally disregarded. After a considerable stay, he determined to depend upon his own resources, and flattered himself with obtaining fresh laurels, and with giving worthy successors to “Rhadamistus.” But to all writers, and especially to dramatic writers, there is an aera at which their success reaches the highest point which their measure of genius permits them to attain. This happened to Crebillon, who now produced “Xerxes,” and “Semiramis,” both of which had very small success. His “Pyrrhus” met with a better reception, yet its success was temporary, and the work has disappeared from the stage. In the interval between “Xerxes” and “Semiramis,” he commenced a tragedy of “Cromwell,” in which he gave the freest range to the sentiments of liberty, and was prohibited from continuing the piece. But the tragedy of “Pyrrhus” may be considered as almost the limit of his dramatic labours. Alter this, becoming disgusted with the theatre, he went to an unknown retreat, where he adopted a simple, frugal, and almost rigid mode of living, surrounded by about thirty dogs and cats, whose attachment, as he said, consoled him for the injustice of men; and here he used to smoke tobacco to render his room bearable with such company. Crebillon, however, was not unjust to the world; he might have felt the disappointment of his ambition at court, but he imputed his theatrical disgraces to himself alone. Alter the first representation of “Xerxes,” which was not a favourable one, he asked the players for their parts, and having thrown them into the lire in their presence, he said, “I was mistaken, but the public has undeceived me.”

Notwithstanding his repeated successes, he was unable in the most brilliant season of his reputation, to obtain a seat in the French academy, perhaps, for one reason, because he had written a severe satire against them. After, however, he had been long forgotten, he was elected into the academy, Sept. 27, 1731, and obtained favours from the court. He was also urged to finish the tragedy of “Cataline *,” which he had begun thirty years before, and which, from some passages he had read to his friends, was spoken of as a dramatic wonder. This piece had but a transient success, however, and even for this it was indebted to the interest inspired in the public by the advanced a;e of the author, and especially to the numerous and powerful cabal, whose object was to sacrifice his rival Voltaire f, who was now making an eminent figure in the drama. Crebillon himself was so little flattered by the

* The creditors of Crebillon would ceived him uncommonly well, being have stopped the profits of this tragedy; struck with his venerable and interestbut the spirited old bard appealed to ing figure; but she was in bed, and the king in council, and procured an ai the instant the old poet was kissing honourable decree in his favour, netting hc-r hand, the king entered the room, forth, that works of genius should not “Alas! ruadame!” exclaimed Crebi4be deemed effects that weie capable of Ion, “the king has surprised us: 1 am being seized. Warton’s Essay on undone.” This exclamation, fro:n the Pope. inouth of an old man of eighty, dif In order to remove Voltaire from verted Louis XV. exceedingly. The

court, Crebillon was recommended as monarch zealously patronized Crea superior poet to madame de Pompa- billon ever after, got his works printed

dour. Hearing that he was poor, this at the press of the Louvre, and, after

2400 French livres. When Crebillon to his memory in the church of St. Gerwent to thank his patroness, she re- vais, where his remains are interred. indiscreet ardour of his friends, that he opposed, as much as he was able, all the means they wished to employ for his success. One of them having asked him for tickets for the first representation of “Cataline,” “You well know,” he replied, “that I would not have a single person in the pit who should think himself ohliged to applaud me.” * c Such applause,“returned his friend,” it is so far from my intention to procure, that, you may he assured, the persons to whom I shall give your tickets, will he the fir>t to hiss the piece, if it deserves to be hissed.“” In that case,“said Crebillon,” you shall have them."

The favours of the court, even when Crebillon was loaded with them, only incited him to justify them by new success, and therefore he undertook a tragedy on “The Triumvirate,” in which he thought he might introduce, with some slight alterations, several passages of that tragedy of Cromwell, formerly so dear to lain, and which he hud suppressed against his will. These passages he now, by the advice of his friends, so altered, as not to give offence to government; but the age of the author was too visible in this piece, and though it escaped being hissed, the crowd staid away. After a few representations, the tragedy disappeared, and the author thought only of finishing the remainder of his days in peace.

The memory of Crebillon was astonishing; and it continued so to the end of his life. He never wrote down his pieces till the moment of representation; and when more than seventy, he repeated by heart his tragedy of “Cataline” to the actors. When he recited a scene to his friends, and they made a criticism which appeared to him just, he recomposed the passage, and totally forgot the first manner, remembering only the last. In general, he was much more docile to criticism than many authors, to whom this docility would have been so useful. He once recited to a company of men of letters a tragedy he had just composed, and finding that they did not admire it, “There is no more to be said about it,” he cried, “you, have pronounced its sentence” and thenceforth he entirely forgot it.

About the time when Crebillon first devoted himself to the theatre, he fell in love, and married without the consent of his parents. His father was already greatly irritated against him for having preferred the glory of a celebrated writer to the consequence of a subaltern magiatrate. But he thought his son entirely dishonoured by alliance with a family neither opulent nor noble; and he disinherited him for his ingratitude and rebellion. Some years afterward, however, when the brilliant 'reputation Crebillon began to enjoy, came to the ears of his hitherto inexorable father, the old man’s vanity was flattered, and he began to think that his son had acted his part in life very prudently. In consequence he restored him to his rights. Crebillon, after his father’s death, went to receive the very moderate inheritance he had left him; but the fees of justice devoured a part, and the Mississippi bubble finished the rest. For some time he found a resource in the bounty of some opulent persons; but they were soon wearied with heaping favours upon one who would neither be their humble servant nor their dependent. Crebillon again became free and poor; and though, during the season of his transitory opulence, he had carried the love of expence to a taste for fancies and superfluities, he had no difficulty in accommodating himself to the kind of life his new situation required.

Crebillon died on June 17, 1762, aged eighty-eight, of a disease which the robustness of his constitution long resisted. The players caused a solemn service to be performed for him in the church of St. Jean de Latran, at which they all assisted with the most respectful decorum, and the ceremony was also graced by the presence of the academies, the most distinguished men of letters, and a great number of persons of the highest rank. From La Harpe’s Lectures, who is rather severe on Crebillon, we learn that the “Rhadamistus” and “Atreus” are the only pieces by him which still keep their place on the stage. His works, however, continue to be in demand in France, if we 'may judge from the numerous editions which have very lately issued from the press.

, 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.

, an English poet, chiefly noted for his translatious of ancient authors, was son of Thomas Creech, and born near Sherbourne in Dorsetshire, 1659. He was educated in grammar learning under Mr. Gurganven of Sherbourne, to whom he afterwards dedicated a translation of one of Theocritus’s Idylliums; and entered a commoner of Wadham college in Oxford, 1675. Wood tells us, that his father was a gentleman; but Jacob says, in his “Lives and Characters of English Poets,” that his parents were not in circumstances sufficient to support him through a liberal education, but that his disposition and capacity for learning raised him up a patron in colonel Strangeways, whose generosity supplied that defect. Creech certainly distinguished himself much; and was accounted a good philosopher and poet, and a severe student. June 13, 1683, he took the degree of M. A. and not long after was elected probationer fellow of All-souls college; to which, Jacob observes, the great reputation acquired by his translation of Lucretius recommended him. Wood tells us, that upon this occasion he gave singular proofs of his classical learning and philosophy before his examiners. In 1696 he took his degree of bachelor of divinity, and began to be well known by the works he published; but they were of no great advantage to his fortune, since his circumstances were always indifferent. In 1699, having taken orders, he was presented by his college to the living of Welwyn in Hertfordshire; but while at Oxford, on another occasion, in June 1700, he put an end to his life. The motives of this fatal catastrophe have been variously represented. M. Bernard informs us, in the “ Republic of Letters,” that in 1700, Creech fell in love with a, woman, who treated him contemptuously, though she was complaisant enough to others; that not being able to digest this usage, he was resolved not to survive it; and that he hanged himself in his study, in which situation he was found three days after. Jacob says nothing of the particular manner of his death, but only that he unfortunately made away with himself: which he ascribes to a naturally morose and splenetic temper, too apt to despise the understandings and performances of others. “This,” says Jacob, “made him less esteemed than his great merit deserved; and his resentments on this account frequently engaged him in those heats and disputes which in the end proved fatal to him.” But from an original letter of Arthur Charlett, preserved in the Bodleian library, it has lately been discovered, that this unhappy event was owing to a very different cause. There was a fellow collegian of whom Creech frequently borrowed money; but repeating his applications too often, he met one day with such a cold reception, that he retired in a fit of gloomy disgust, and in three days was found hanging in his room: and Mr. Malone has more recently published a letter from Dr. Tanner, by which it appears that Creech had before exhibited marks of insanity.

The following is a list of his translations; for we do not find him to have been the author of any original works. 1. A translation of “Lucretius,” printed in 8vo, at Oxford, 1682. Dryden, in the preface to the “Miscellany Poems,” which were published by him, speaks of this translation in the highest terms of approbation, calling Creech “the ingenious and learned translator of Lucretius” and every body else entertained the same opinion of it.' In the edition of 1714, in 2 vols. 8vo, all the verses of the text, which Creech had left untranslated, particularly those in the fourth book about the nature of love, are supplied; and many new notes added and intermixed by another hand, by way of forming a complete system of the Epicurean philosophy. Creech had published in 1695 an edition of Lucretius in Latin, with notes, which were afterwards printed at the end of the English translation. Another edition of this, much enlarged, but very incorrect, was published in 1717 in 8vo. The best is that of Glasow, 1759, 12 mo. He will perhaps be far longer rememred as the editor than the translator of Lucretius. 2. In 1684 he published a translation of “Horace” in which, however, he has omitted some few odes. As to the satires, he was advised, as he tells us in the preface, “to turn them to our own time; since Rome was now rivalled in her vices; and parallels for hypocrisy, profaneness, avarice, and the like, were easy to be found.” But those crimes,“he declares,” were out of his acquaintance; and since the character is the same whoever the person is, he was not so fond of being hated, as to make any disobliging application. Such pains,“says he,” would look like an impertinent labour to find a dunghill.“3. The” Idylliums“of Theocritus, with Rapin’s discourse of pastorals, 1684,- 8vo. 4. The second elegy of Ovid’s first book of elegies the sixth, seventh, eighth, and twelfth of the second book; the story of Lucretia, out of the Fasti; and the second and third of Virgil’s eclogues; printed in a collection of miscellany poems, 1684. 5. The thirteenth satire of Juvenal, with notes. Printed in the English translation of the satires, 1693, in folio. 6. A translation into English of the verses prefixed to Quintinie’s Complete Gardener. 7. The Lives of Solon, Pelopidas, and Cleomenes, from Plutarch. 8. The Life of Pelopidas, from Cornelius Nepos. 9. Laconic apophthegms, or remarkable sayings of the Spartans, from Plutarch. 10. A discourse concerning Socrates’s da3mon, and the two first books of the Symposiacs, from Plutarch. These translations from Plutarch were published in the English translations of his” Lives“and” Morals.“11. A translation of Manilius’s Astronomicon, dated from All-Souls, Oct. 10, 1696. On his father’s monument he is called” the learned, much admired, and much envied Mr. Creech.“By whom he could have been envied, we know not, yet there is a ridiculous story that Dryden became so jealous of him, as to incite him to translate Horace that he might lose as much reputation by that poet, as he had gained by Lucretius. His poetry will scarcely at present be deemed an object which calls for much criticism, as he is rather a good scholar than a good poet; and in the instance of Lucretius, a most judicious editor. Dr. Warton, however, who will be allowed Jto be an admirable judge, has spoken of him in terms of applause.” Creech,“says the doctor,” in truth, is a much better translator than he is usually supposed and allowed to be. He is a nervous and vigorous writer: and many parts, not only of his Lucretius, but of his Theocritus and Horace (though now decried) have not been excelled by other translators. One of his pieces may be pronounced excellent; his translation of the thirteenth satire of Juvenal; equal to any that Dryden has given us of that author.“Pope certainly paid him no small compliment by beginning his epistle to Mr. Murray (afterwards lord Mansfield) with two lines from Creech’s Horace. Pope used to say that” he hurt his translation of Lucretius very much by imitating Cowley, and bringing in turns even into some of the most grand parts. He has done more justice to Manilius."

, a very amiable and ingenious lady, nearly related to the poet Dryden, was the only daughter of sir Gilbert Pickering, bart. by Elizabeth, the only daughter of sir Sidney Montagu, knt. and sister of Edward Montagu, first earl of Sandwich. She was born in 1642, and was married to John Creed of Oundle, esq. a wise, learned, and pious man (as his inscription, written by her, intimates), “who served his majesty Charles II. in diverse honourable employments at home and abroad; lived with honour, and died lamented, 1701.” By this gentleman she had a numerous family, one of whom, the brave major Richard Creed, is commemorated by a monument in Westminster-abbey, as well as by one erected by his mother in the church of Tichmarsh. During her widowhood, Mrs. Creed resided many years in a mansionhouse at Barnwell, near Oundle in Northamptonshire, belonging to the Montagu family, where she amused and employed herself in painting, and gratuitously instructed many young women in drawing, fine needle-work, and other elegant arts. Many of the churches in the neighbourhood of Oundle are decorated with altar-pieces, monuments, and ornaments of different kinds, the works of her hand; and her descendants are possessed of many portraits, and some good pictures painted by her. Two days in every week she constantly allotted to the public; on one, she was visited by all the nobility and gentry who resided near her; on the other, she received and relieved all the afflicted and diseased of every rank, giving them food, raiment, or medicine, according to their wants. Her reputation in the administration of medicine was considerable; and as she afforded it gratis, her practice was of course extensive. Her piety was great and unaffected. That it was truly sincere, was evinced by the magnanimity with which she endured many trials more heavily afflictive than what usually fall to the lot even of those whose life is prolonged to so great an extent. In 1722, when in her eightieth year, she erected a monument in the church of Ticbmarsh to the memory of Dryden and his ancestors, with a:; inscription by herself. She died at Ountlle in May 1728, and her remains were removed to Tichmarsh, where she was buried with her ancestors. Her funeral sermon, which Mr. Malone doesnot appear to have seen, was preached hy Henry Lee, D. D. rector of Tichmarsh in May 1728, and therefore probably the date of her death, in Malone’s Life of Dryden, viz. “the beginning of 1724-5,” must be incorrect. This sermon, printed at London the same year, 8vo, is dedicated to Mrs. Stuart, executrix and sole surviving daughter of Mrs. Creed. An extract from it, confirming the excellence of her character, may be seen in a compilation less respected than it deserves, Wilford’s “Memorials.”

, a once celebrated writer of the Sociriian persuasion, was born in Franconia in 1590, and after some early education received from his father, studied at Nuremberg, and other German schools or universities. He was brought up in the Lutheran church, but in the course of his reading, having formed to himself a set of opinions nearly coinciding with those of Socinus, he declined the offers of promotion in the Lutheran church, where he probably would not have been favourably received, and determined to go to Poland, where such opinions as his were no bar to advancement. In 1612 he went to Racow, and besides becoming a preacher, was appointed Greek professor and afterwards rector of the university. His theological works form a considerable part of the works’ of the “Fratres Poloni,” and he engaged in a controversy with Grotius, who had written against Socinus, and a correspondence, of great politeness, took place between them, which made Grotius be suspected of inclining too much to the opinions of his antagonist. He certainly carried his politeness very far, when he told Crellius that “he was, grieved to see so much enmity between those, who call themselves Christians, for such trifling matters,” these matters being no less than the doctrine of the Trinity, and the divinity and atonement of Jesus Christ. Crellius, we are told, like many of his descendants, would not be called a Socinian, but an Artemonite, after Artemon, who lived in the reign of the emperor Severus, and denied the pre-existence and divinity of Christ. Crellius’ opinions on other subjects will not probably procure him much respect, at least from one sex. In his “Ethics,” he is said to maintain that it is lawful for men upon certain occasions to beat their wives! Crellius died at Racow, of an epidemic fever, 1633. Father Simon’s opinion of him may be quoted as generic. “Crellius is a grammarian, a philosopher, and a divine throughout. He has a wonderful address in adapting St. Paul’s words to his own prejudices. He supports the doctrines of his sect with so much subtlety, that he does not seem to say any thing of himself, but to make the scriptures speak for him, even where they are most against him.”

, professor of philosophy at Fer­*ara and at Padua, who raised himself to such a pitch of fame, that princes and kings were ambitious to procure his portrait, was born at Cento in the Modenese, in 1550; and died at Padua, of the plague, in 1630, at the age of 80. His principal works are; 1. “Aminta e Clori, favola silvestre,” Ferrara, 1591, 4to. 2. '< II nasciinento di Venetia,“Bergamo, 1617, 12mo. 3.” De physico auditu,“1596, folio. 4.” De calido innato,“1626, 4to. 5.” De sensibus & facilitate appetiva," 1644, 4to, and other works which shew that his religious creed was reducible to very few articles. He thought that, according to the principles of Aristotle, the soul is material, capable of corruption, and mortal, as well as the souls of brutes.

, a native of the marche of Brandenburg, where he was born in 1648, was one of the most laborious compilers of his time. He taught philosophy at Giessen, was minister near Zell, schoolmaster in Hungary, corrector of the press at Rotterdam and Leyden, and finally master of a boarding-school, and private tutor in the last mentioned city, where he died March 29, 1728, aged 80. Amidst all his employments he found time to publish a great number of collections: “Fasciculi Dissertatiomun et Dissertationes Philologicae,” 2 vols. 12mo; “Commentationes in varios Autores,” 3 vols. 12mo; “Musseum Philologicum,” 2 vols. 12fno; “Thesaurus Librorum Philologicorum,” 2 vols. 8vo; “De Furibus Librariis,” Leyden, 1705, 12mo. The most valued among his works are 3 vols. in 4to, the first entitled, “Consilia et Methodi Studiorum optime instituendorum,” Rotterdam, 1692; the second, “De Philologia,” &c. Leyden, 1696; and the third, “DeEruditione comparanda,” Leyden, 1696. This collection contains all the best rules for studying the different sciences.

, or, as he called himself, de Crescentiis, was born at Bologna about 1233, and after studying philosophy, medicine, and natural history, engaged in a course of law, but did not take his doctor’s degree; by which means, although he might plead causes, he was not at liberty to give lectures, a privilege which belonged only to doctors. For thirty years he was employed as assessor, or judge to the civil and military governors of various cities in Italy, an office of which he discharged the duties with impartiality, and witb the happiest effect in preserving peace in those places. In the mean time having contracted a taste for agriculture, wherever he removed, he collected such observations as might improve his knowledge of that branch, and on his return to Bologna, which he had left during the political dissentions there, he wrote in 1304 a treatise on agriculture, with the title of “Ruralia Commoda,” dedicated to Charles II. king of Naples. The first edition appeared in 147 1 at Augsburgh, fol. under the title of “Petri de Crescentiis rurahum commodorum, libri duodecim.” It was translated into Italian, Florence, 1478, fol. but the two best editions are that of Cosmo Giunta, ] 605, and that of Naples, 1724, 2,vols. 8vo. It is a book of considerable value, and gives a very correct display of the modes of agriculture in Italy at that time, which are said to approximate nearer to the modern than could have been expected. Crescentius died in 1320, nearly eighty-seven years old.

, an Italian poet, and poetical historian, the son of John Philip Crescimbeni, a lawyer, and Anna Virginia Barbo, was born Oct. 9, 1663, at Macerata in the marche ofAncona. Jerome Casanati, afterwards cardinal, was his godfather, and gave him the names of John-Maria-Ignatius-Xavier-Joseph-Antony, of which he retained only John Maria, and afterwards changed the latter into Mario. After receiving grammatical education at home, his uncle Antony-Francis, an advocate, invited him to Rome in 1674; hut the following year his father and mother recalled him to Macerata, where he engaged in a course of study among the Jesuits. His teacher of rhetoric was Charles d' Aquino, under whom he made great progress in eloquence and poetry. Among his early attempts, he wrote a tragedy in the style of Seneca, “The Defeat of Darius, king of Persia,” and translated the first two hooks of Lucan’s Pharsalia into Italian verse from which performances he derived so much reputation, as to be admitted a member of the academy of the Disposti, in the town of Jesi, although only in his fifteenth year. About that time he continued his classical studies for eight months under Nicolas Antony Raffaelli, and entered upon a course of philosophy. His father now recommending the law as a profession, Crescimbeni took his doctor’s degree Oct. 3, 167 y, and was appointed to lecture on the institutes, which he did for a year. His uncle before mentioned, aoain inviting him to Rome, he divided his time there between law and polite literature, and in 1685, the academy of the Infecondi admitted him a member. Hitherto his studies in Italian poetry had not been conducted so as to inspire him with a very pure taste; but about 1687, he entered on a course of reading of the best Italian poets, which not only enabled him to correct his own taste and style, but gave him hopes that tie might improve those of his countrymen. With this intention he endeavoured to form a new society, or, as they are called in Italy, academy, rindcr the name of Arcadia, the members to be called the shepherds of Arcadia, and each to take the name of a shepherd, and that of some place in ancient Arcadia, and his own name accordingly was Alfesibeo Cario. Such was the origin of this celebrated academy, and surely no origin was ever mure childishly romantic, or unpromising as to any beneficial e licet on solid or elegant literature, to which purposes, however, we are told it has eminently contributed. It was established Oct. 5, 1690. A short account of it, written in 1757, informs us that the first members were those itained persons chiefly who were about queen Christina of Sweden. (See Christina, vol. IX.) It admits all sciences, all arts, all nations, all ranks, and both sexes. The number of its members is not determined; they are said at present to be upwards of two thousand, but we have heard a much larger number assigned, for they sometimes aggregate whole academies. At Home, the academicians assemble in pastoral habits, in a most agreeable garden, called Bosco Parrhasia. The constitution of the society being democratic, they never chusje a prince for their protector. At the end of each olympiad, for that is the method of computing adopted by the Arcadians, they cbuse a custode, who is the speaker, and has the sole right of assembling the society, who are also represented by him alone, when they are not assembled. In order to be admitted a member, it is requisite that the person should be twenty-four years of age complete, of a reputable family, and to have given some specimen of abilities in one or more branches of education. As to the ladies, a poem, or a picture, is a testimony of genius that is held sufficient. The stated assemblies of this academy are fixed to seven different days, between the first of May and the seventh of October. In the first six they read the works of the Roman shepherds, the productions of strangers being reserved for the seventh and last. Each author reads his own compositions, except ladies and cardinals, who are allowed to employ others.

Crescimbeni was the first custode, or president of this academy, and retained that office for thirty-eight years, during which the academy is said to have produced very beneficial effects on public taste, and on the style of Italian poetry. Crescimbeni, however, was so intent on this establishment, as to neglect his profession as a lawyer, and now embraced, as it is termed, the ecclesiastical state. In 1705, pope Clement XI. bestoweu on him a canonry of St. Mary in Cosmedino, and in 1719 appointed him archpriest of the same city, at which time he took the regular orders of the priesthood. In 1728, during a fit of sickness, he took the vows of the Jesuits, but died March 8, of that year. He appears to have enjoyed great literary reputation in his time, and was a member of most of the Italian, academies, and of the Naturae Curiosorutn in Germany.

, an African bishop of the seventh century, is chiefly noticed for having made a collection of canons, in two parts, the first entitled “An Abridgement of the Canon Law,” apparently a book of references only; the second contains the canons themselves, at full length, as referred to in the abridgment. The abridgment was published at Paris in 1588, by Pithoeus, from a ms. of the church of Troyes, and since by Altasaranus at Poictou in 1630, and by Chifflet in 1649. But both parts are inserted in Justel and Voellus’s “Bibliotheca Juris Canonici.” Baronius speaks of a ms. of this work in the Vatican, and Moreri adds that there is a Paris edition, of the date 1609.

, an artist, better known by the name of Cerano, where he was born in 1557, descended from a family of painters, studied at Rome and Venice, and with painting united a knowledge of modelling, architecture, and literature. With such talents he occupied the first rank at the court of Milan, in the direction of the academy, and the vast plans of cardinal Federigo: he painted a number of pictures, whose beauties are not seldom balanced by blemishes of equal magnitude, free, spirited, harmonious, but often mannered from affectation of grace or grandeur. The singular talent he possessed of painting birds and quadrupeds in cabinet pictures, is mentioned by Soprani. One of his best pictures is the “Madonna del Rosario,” in the church of St. Lazzaro at Milan. He died in 1633.

, a Milanese, born in 1592, at first was a disciple of Gio. Batista Crespi, though he afterwards studied under Giulio Cesare Procaccini, and soon became superior to the first, and at least equal to the second. With great vigour of conception, and facility of execution, he combines equal suavity and strength of colour in oil and fresco the distribution of his figures leavesk> wish for alteration. He seems familiar with the best principles of the Caracci, without having frequented their school. In the church della Passione at Milan, where he painted the “Taking down from the Cross,” he has left many portraits that may vie with the best of Titian’s. Continued progress from good to better marked the short period of his life. His last and most admired works are the histories from the life of St. Bruno, in the Certosa at Milan. The most celebrated of them is that of the Parisian teacher, who, raising himself from the bier, pronounces his own condemnation; despair and terror are personified in him and the assembly. Nor is that of the duke of Calabria, who in hunting discovers the solitary cell of the hermit, much inferior. On this the painter wrote, “Daniel Crispus Mediolanensis pinxit hoc temphim an. 1629,” one year before his death, for he died of the plague in 1630, extremely lamented, and with him all his family.

, sometimes called La Spagnuolo, from the style in which he affected to dress, was born at Bologna, in 1665, and received his earliest instruction in design from Angelo Toni, a very moderate artist; but in a short time he quitted that school, and successively studied under Domenico Cainuti, Carlo Cignani, and Giovanni Antonio Burrini. From them he applied himself to study the works of Baroccio, and afterwards the principles of colouring at Venice, from the paintings of Titian, Tintoretto, and Paul Veronese. Thus qualified to appear with credit in his profession, his merit was made known to the grand duke Ferdinand, who immediately engaged him in several noble compositions, which he executed with success. In portrait he was particularly excellent; and to those subjects he gave elegant attitudes, with a strong and graceful resemblance.

His imagination was lively, and often whimsical; he was very famous for caricatures, and frequently amused himself with designing comic and burlesque fancies, which he expressed with abundance of humour and drollery. Sometimes he etched those designs with aqua fortis, selecting his subjects from the writings of the facetious and burlesque poets. He was remarkably singular, in accustoming himself to paint in a chamber properly darkened, and so contrived as to admit a ray of the sun, or the light of a flambeau, to enable him to give a greater roundness and relief to his paintings, by a nice observation of the force of natural light and shadow. His works are dispersed into different parts of Europe. In the gallery of Dresden were “The Seven Sacraments,” in seven pieces; “The Virgin, Christ, and St. John,” “An Ecce Homo, attended by two Soldiers.” He died in 1747. His sons, Antonio and Lewis, were some of the best of their father’s scholars, but though their works were much studied, and composed with more sobriety than those of their father, they never attained his eminence in the art. Lewis, indeed, quitted the pencil for the pen, and wrote many considerable works relating to the arts, and amongst others, the Supplement or 3d volume of the “Felsina Pittrice.” He died in 1779, and Antonio survived him only three years.

, a celebrated popish writer, descended from an ancient and honourable family, seated formerly in Nottinghamshire, but before his time it had removed into Yorkshire, in which county he was born, at Wakefield, in 1605. His father was Hugh Cressey, esq. barrister of Lincoln’s-inn; his mother’s name was Margery, the daughter of Dr. Thomas Doylie, an eminent physician in London. He was educated at a grammar-school at Wakefield, and about the age of fourteen, in Lent term 1619, he was removed to Oxford, where he studied with great vigour and diligence, and in the year 1626 was admitted fellow of Merton college, in that university. After taking the degrees of B. A. and M. A. he entered into holy orders, and became chaplain to Thomas lord Wentworth, then lord president of the north, with whom he lived some years. About 1638, he went over to Ireland with Lucius Carey, lord viscount Falkland, to whom he was likewise chaplain; and by him, when he was secretary of state, Cressey was, in 1642, promoted to a canonry in the collegiate church of Windsor, and to the dignity of dean of Laughlin, in the kingdom of Ireland, but through the disturbances of the times, he never attained the possession of either of these preferments. After the unfortunate death of his patron, who was killed in the battle of Newbury, he found himself destitute of subsistence, and therefore readily accepted a proposal that was made him, of travelling with Charles Bertie, esq. afterwards created earl of Falmouth, a great favourite of king Charles II. who was unhappily killed in a battle at sea in the first Dutch war after the restoration. Cressey quitted England in 1644, and making the tour of Italy with his pupil, moved by the declining state of the church of England, he began to listen to the persuasion of the Romish divines, and in 1646 made a public profession at Rome of his being reconciled to that church. He went from thence to Paris, where he thought fit to publish what he was pleased to style the motives of his conversion, which work of his, as might reasonably be expected, was highly applauded by the Romanists, and was long considered by them as a very extraordinary performance. It is entitled, “Exomologesis, or a faithfal narration of the occasions and motives of his conversion to Catholic Unity,” Paris, 1647, and 1653, 8vo. To the last edition is an appendix, “In which are cleared certain misconstructions of his Exomologesis, published by J. P. author of the preface to the lord Falkland’s discourse of Infallibility.” As soon as this was finished, he sent it over to his friend Dr. Henry Hammond, as to one whose sincerity he had experienced, and for whose judgment he had a high esteem. That learned person wrote him a kind letter of thanks for his book, but at the same time told him there was a vein of fallacy ran through the whole contexture of it; adding, “we are friends, and I do not propose to be your antagonist.” At the close of this epistle, he invited him into England, assuring him that he should be provided with a convenient place to dwell in, and a sufficient subsistence to live comfortably, without being molested by any about his religion and conscience. This offer, though our author did not accept, yet he returned, as became him, an answer full of respect and gratitude to the kind friend who had made it.

After this, he was much inclined to become a monk of the Carthusian order, and had thoughts of entering into the monastery of English Carthusians at Newport, in Flanders, but from this he was dissuaded by some of his zealous countrymen, who were desirous that he should continue to employ his pen in defence of their religion, for which the severe discipline of that order would have allowed him but little time; and therefore by their advice he laid aside that design, and being recommended to Henrietta-Maria, queen-dowager of England, he was taken under her protection, and being invited by the Benedictine college of English monks at Douay, in Flanders, he at length resolved to retire thither, and for the expence of his journey received one hundred crowns as a bounty from that princess, who could but ill spare even so small a sura at that time. Some time after his arrival at Douay he entered into the Benedictine order, and upon that occasion changed the name he received at his baptism, of Hugh Paulin, for that of Serenus de Cressey, by which he was afterwards known to the learned world. He remained about seven years or more in that college, and during his residence tnere published a large work, of the mystical kind, entitled “Sancta Sophia, or directions for the prayers of contemplation, &c. extracted out of more than XL treatises, written by the late reverend father Aug. Baker, a monk of the English congregation of the holy order of St. Benedict,” Douay, 1657, 2 vols. 8vo. To which are added, “Certain patterns of devout exercises of immediate acts and affections of the will.” This father Augustine Baker, whose true name was David Baker, who had studied the law in the Middle temple, and who from being little better than an atheist, became a convert to popery, and a very zealous devotionist, had once, it seems, some intention of writing the Ecclesiastical History of England, for which he had made very copious collections, that were of great service to Cressey, when he entered upon the execution of the same project.

After the restoration, and the marriage of king Charles II. queen Catharine appointed our author, who was then become one of the mission in England, her chaplain, and from that time he resided in Somerset-house, in the Strand. The great regularity of his life, his sincere and unaffected piety, his modest and mild behaviour, his respectful deportment to persons of distinction, with whom he was formerly acquainted when a protestant, and the care he took to avoid all concern in political affairs or intrigues of state, preserved him in quiet and safety, even in the most troublesome times- He was, however, a very zealous champion in the cause of the church of Rome, and was continually writing in defence of her doctrines, or in answer to the books of controversy written by protestants of distinguished learning or figure; and as this engaged him in a variety of disputes, he had the good fortune to acquire great reputation with both parties, the papists looking upon him to be one of their ablest advocates, and the protestants allowing that he was a grave, a sensible, and a candid writer. Among the works he published after his return to England, were: 1. “A non est inventus returned to Mr. Edward Bagshaw’s enquiry and vainly boasted discovery of weakness in the Grounds of the Church’s Infallibility,” 1662, 8vo. 2. “A Letter to an English gentleman, dated July 6th, 1662, wherein bishop Morley is concerned, printed amongst some of the treatises of that reverend prelate,” 3. “Roman Catholic Doctrines no Novelties; or, an answer to Dr. Pierce’s court-sermon, miscalled The primitive rule of Reformation,” 1663, 8vo; answered by Dr. Daniel Whitby. But that which contributed to make him most known, was his large and copious ecclesiastical history, entitled “The Church History of Britanny,” Roan, 1668, fol. which was indeed a work of great pains and labour, and executed with much accuracy and diligence. He had observed that nothing made a greater impression upon the people in general of his communion, than the reputation of the great antiquity of their church, and the fame of the old saints of both sexes, that had flourished in this island; and therefore he judged that nothing could be more serviceable in promoting what he styled the catholic interest, than to write such a history as might set these points in the fairest and fullest light possible. He had before him the example of a famous Jesuit, Michael Alford, alias Griffith, who had adjusted the same history under the years in which the principal events happened, in four large volumes, collected from our ancient historians; but, as this was written in Latin, he judged that it was less suited to the wants of common readers, and therefore he translated what suited his purpose into English, with such helps and improvements as he thought necessary. His history was very much approved by the most learned of his countrymen of the same religion, as appears by the testimonies prefixed to it. Much indeed may be said in favour of the order, regularity, and coherence of the facts, and the care and punctuality shewn in citing his authorities. On the other hand, he has too frequently adopted the superstitious notions of many of our old writers; transcribing from them such fabulous passages as have been long ago exploded by the inquisitive and impartial critics of his own faith. The book, however, long maintained its credit among the Romanists, as a most authentic ecclesiastical chronicle, and is frequently cited by their most considerable authors. He proposed to have published another volume of this history, which was to have carried it as low as the dissolution of monasteries by king Henry VIII. but he died before he had proceeded full three hundred years lower than the Norman conquest. Dodd, however, informs us that a considerable part of the second volume was preserved in ms. in the Benedictine monastery at Douay, and that it was never published “upon account of some nice controversies between the see of Rome, and some of our English kings, which might give offence.” While engaged on this work, he found leisure to interfere in all the controversies of the times, as will presently be noticed. His last dispute was in reference to a book written by the learned Dr. Stillingfleet, afterwards bishop of Worcester, to which, though several answers were given by the ablest of the popish writers, there was none that seemed to merit reply, excepting that penned by father Cressey, and this procured him the honour of a very illustrious antagonist, his old friend and acquaintance at Oxford, Edward earl of Clarendon. Being now grown far in years, and having no very promising scene before his eyes, from the warm spirit that appeared against popery amongst all ranks of people, and the many excellent books written to confute it by the most learned of the clergy, he was the more willing to seek for peace in the silence of a country retirement; and accordingly withdrew for some time to the house of Richard Caryll, esq. a gentleman of an ancient family and affluent fortune, at East Grinstead, co. Sussex, and dying upon the 10th of August 1674, being then near the seventieth year of his age, was buried in the parish church there. His loss was much regretted by those of his communion, as being one of their ablest champions, ready to draw his pen in their defence on every occasion, and sure of having his pieces read with singular favour and attention. His memory also was revered by the protestants, as well on account of the purity of his manners, and his mild and humble deportment, as for the plainness, candour, and decency with which he had managed all the controversies that he had been engaged in, and which had procured him, in return, much more of kindness and respect, than almost any other of his party had met with, or indeed deserved. It is very remarkable, however, that he thought it necessary to apologize to his popish readers for the respectful mention he made of the prelates of our church. Why this should require an apology, we shall not Inquire, but that his candour and politeness deserve the highest commendation will appear from what he says of archbishop Usher: “As for B. Usher, his admirable abilities in ‘chronological and historical erudition,’ as also his faithfulness and ingenuous sincerity in delivering without any provoking reflection*, what with great labour he has observed, ought certainly at least to exempt him from being treated by any one rudely and contemptuously, especially by me, who am moreover always obliged to preserve a just remembrance of very many kind effects of friendship, which I received from, him.” We have already taken notice of his inclination to the mystic divinity, which led him to take so much pains about the works of father Baker, and from the same disposition he also published “Sixteen revelations of divine love, shewed to a devout servant of our Lord, called mother Juliana, an anchorete of Norwich, who lived in the days of king Edward Hi.” He left also in ms. “An Abridgment of the book called The cloud of unknowing, and of the counsel referring to the same.” His next performance, was in answer to a famous treatise, written by Dr. Stillingfleet, against the church of Rome, which made a very great noise in those days, and put for some time a stop to the encroachments their missionaries were daily making, which highly provoked those of the Roman communion. This was entitled “Answer to part of Dr. Stillingfleet’s book, entitled Idolatry practised in the church of Rome,” 1672, 8vo, and was followed by “Fanaticism fanatically imputed to the Catholic Church by Dr. Stillingfleet, and the imputation refuted and retorted,” &c. 1672, 8vo, and “Question, Why are you a Catholic? Question, Why are you a Protestant?” 1673, 8vo. In support of Dr. Stillingfleet, the earl of Clarendon wrote “Animadversions” upon our author’s answer; in which he very plainly tells him and the world, that it was not devotion, but necessity and want of a subsistence, which drove him first out of the church of England, and then into a monastery. As this noble peer knew him well at Oxford, it may be very easily imagined that what he said made a very strong impression, and it was to efface this, that our author thought tit to send abroad an answer under the title of “Epistle apologetical to a person of honour, touching his vindication of Dr. Stillingfleet,' 1 1674, 8vo. In this work he gives a large relation of the state and condition of his affairs, at the time of what he styles his conversion, in order to remove the imputation of quitting his faith to obtain bread. The last work that he published was entitled” Remarks upon the Oath of Supremacy."

, a French historian, was born at Pads in 1693. His father was a journeyman printer. He studied under the celebrated Rollin, and became professor of rhetoric in the college de Beauvais. After Rollin’s death, he undertook the continuation of his Roman history, and published various works, in which, as in the education of his pupils, he preserved a sacred regard for the interests of religion, virtue, and literature. He died at Paris, Dec. I, 1765, after publishing, 1. an edition of “Livy,” with notes, 6 vols. 4to, which, says Gibbon, contains a sensible life of the historian, a judicious selection of the best remarks on his work, and displays as much intelligence as taste on the part of the editor. Ernesti is not less in favour of this edition, which has been reprinted in 8vo and 12mo. 2. Continuation of “llollin’s Roman History,” already noticed. 3. “Histoire des Empereurs Remains jusqu' a Constantin,” Paris, 1756, 6 vols. 4to, which was soon after translated into English, and published in 8vo. 4. “Histoire de l'universite” de Paris,“7 vols. 12mo; a very useful work, for which his countrymen think he was better qualified than to write the Roman history. 5.” Observations sur V Esprit des Lois,“12mo, some remarks on Montesquieu’s celebrated work, from which Crevier derived little reputation. 6.” Rhetorique Fransoise," 1765, 2 vols. 12mo, which was well received, and was reprinted at Liege, in 1787. Crevier, like most voluminous writers, is careless in his style, but generally correct and precise in his narrative.

, bishop of Durham, the fifth sen of John lord Crewe, of Stean, co. Northampton, by Jemima, daughter and coheir of Edward Walgrave, of Lawford, in Essex, esq. was born at Stean, the 3 1st of January, 1633; and in 1652 admitted commoner of Lincoln college, in Oxford, where he took the degree of B. A. Feb. 1, 1655-6; soon after which he was chosen fellow of that college. On June 29th, 1658, he took the degree of M. A. At the restoration he declared heartily in favour of the crown and hierarchy; and in 1663 was one of the proctors of the university. The year following, on the 2d of July, he took the degree of LL. D.; and soon after went into holy orders. August the 12th, 1668, he was elected rector of Lincoln -college, upon the decease of Dr. Paul Hood. On the 29th of April, 1669, he was installed dean of Chichester, and held with that dignity, the praecentorship, in which he had been installed the day before. He was also appointed clerk of the closet to king Charles II. In 1671, upon the translation of Dr. Blandford to the see of Worcester, he was elected hishop of Oxford in his room, on the 16th of June, confirmed June the ISth, consecrated July the 2d, and enthroned the 5th of the same month; being allowed to hold with it, in commendam, the living of Whitney, and the rectorship of Lincoln college, which last he resigned in October 1672. In 1673 he performed the ceremony of the marriage of James duke of York with Maria of Este; and through that prince’s interest, to whom he appears to have been subservient, he was translated, the 22d of October, 1674, to the bishopric of Durham. In the beginning of J6.75, he baptized Katharina- Laura, the new-born daughter of James duke of York. The 26th of April, 1676, he was sworn of the privy council to king Charles II. and upon the accession of king James II. to the crown, he was in great favour with that prince; he was made dean of his majesty’s royal chapel in 1685, in the room of Compton, bishop of London, who had been removed; and within a few days after, was admitted into the privy council. In 1686 he was appointed one of the commissioners in the new ecclesiastical commission erected by king James, an honoqr which he is said to have valued beyond its worth. By virtue of that commission, he appeared on the 9th of August, at the proceedings against Henry bishop of London, and was for suspending him during the king’s pleasure; though the earl and bishop of Rochester, and chief justice Herbert, were against it. Immediately after that bishop’s suspension, commissioners were appointed to exercise all manner of ecclesiastical jurisdiction within the diocese of London, of which bishop Crewe was one. The 20th of November following, he was present at, and consenting to, the degradation of Mr. Samuel Johnson, previously to the most severe punishment that was inflicted on that eminent divine; and countenanced with his presence a prosecution carried on, in May 1687, against Dr. Peachy, vice-chancellor of Cambridge, for refusing to admit one Alban Francis, a Benedictine monk, to the degree of master of arts in that university, without taking the oaths. In July the same year, he offered to attend the pope’s nuncio at his public entry into London; but we are told his coachman refused to "drive lijm that way. His name was put again in a new ecclesiastical commission issued out this year, in October; in which he acted, during the severe proceedings against Magdalen college in Oxford, for refusing to elect one Anthony Farmer their president, pursuant to the king’s mandate. The bishop continued acting as an ecclesiastical commissioner till October 1688; when that commission was abolished. Towards the end of the year 1687, he was employed, with the bishops of Rochester and Peterborough, to draw up a form of thanksgiving for the queen’s being with child. But finding that the prince of Orange’s party was likely to' prevail, he absented himself from the council-board, and told the archbishop of Canterbury, that he was sorry for having so long concurred with the courtand desired now to be reconciled to his grace, and the other bishops. Even in the convention that met January 22, 1688-9, to consider of filling the throne, he was one of those who voted, on the 6th of February, that king James II. had abdicated the kingdom. Yet his past conduct was too recent to be forgotten, and therefore he was excepted by name out of the pardon granted by king William and queen Mary, May 23, 1690, which so terrified him, that he went over to Holland, and returned just in time to take the oaths to the new government, and preserved his bishopric. But, in order to secure to himself the possession of that dignity, he was forced to permit the crown to dispose of, or at least to nominate to, his prebends of Durham, as they should become vacant. By the death of his two elder brothers, he became in 1691, baron Crewe of Stean; and, about the 21st of December the same year, he married, but left no issue. During the rest of king William’s reign, he remained quiet and unmolested; and in the year 1710, he was one of the lords that opposed the prosecution then carried on against Dr. Sacheverell, and declared him not guilty; and likewise protested against several steps taken in that affair. He applied himself chiefly, in the latter part of his life, to works of munificence and charity. Particularly, he was a very great benefactor to Lincoln college, of which he had been fellow and rector; and laid out large sums in beautifying the bishop’s palace at Durham; besides many other instances of generosity and munificence of a more private nature. At length, his lordship departed this life on Monday September 18, 1721, aged eighty-eight; and was buried in his chapel at Stean, the 30th of the same month, with an inscription on his monument. He held the see of Durham forty-seven years. Dying without issue, the title of Baron Crewe of Stean became extinct with him.

, was a Scotch gentleman, who lived in the sixteenth century, and has furnished a sort of biographical romance. His endowments both of body and mind were esteemed so great, that he obtained the appellation of “The admirable Crichton,” and by that title he has continued to be distinguished down to the present day. The accounts given of his abilities and attainments are indeed so wonderful, that they seem scarcely to be credible; and many persons have been disposed to consider them as almost entirely fabulous, though they have been delivered with the. utmost confidence, and without any degree of hesitation, by various writers. The time of Crichton’s birth is said, by the generality of authors, to have been in 1551; but according to lord Buchan, it appears from several circumstances, that he was born in the month of August, 1560. His father was Robert Crichton of Elliock in the county of Perth, and lord advocate of Scotland in queen Mary’s reign, from 1561 to 1573; part of which time he held that office in conjunction with Spens of Condie. The mother of James Crichton was Elizabeth Stuart, the only daughter of sir James Stuart of Beath, who was a descendant of Robert duke of Albany, the third son of king Robert II. by Elizabeth Muir, or More, as she is commonly called. It is hence evident, that when the admirable Crichton boasted, as he did abroad, that he was sprung from Scottish kings, he said nothing but what was agreeable to truth. Nevertheless, Thomas Dempster, who sufficiently amplifies his praises in other respects, passes a severe censure upon him on this account; which is the more remarkable, as Dempster lived so near the time, and was well acquainted with the genealogies of the great families of Scotland. James Crichton is said to have received his grammatical education at Perth, and to have studied philosophy in the university of St. Andrew. His tutor in that university was Mr. John Rutherford, a professor at that time famous for his learning, and who distinguished himself by writing four books on Aristotle’s Logic, and a commentary on his Poetics. But nothing, according to Mackenzie, can give us a higher idea of Rutherford’s worth and merit, than his being master of that wonder and prodigy of his age, the great and admirable Crichton. However, it is not to this professor alone that the honour is ascribed of having formed so extraordinary a character. There are others who may put in their claim to a share in the same glory; for Aldus Manutius, who calls Crichton first cousin to the king, says that he was educated, along with his majesty, under Buchanan, Hepburn, and Robertson, as well as Rutherford. Indeed, whatever might be the natural force of his genius, jnany masters must have been necessary, in order to his acquiring such a variety of attainments as he is represented to have possessed. For it is related, that he had scarcely reached the twentieth year of his age, when he had run through the whole circle of the sciences, and could speak and write to perfection in ten different languages. Nor was this all; for he had likewise improved himself to the highest degree in riding, dancing, and singing, and in playing upon all sorts of instruments. Crichton, being thus accomplished, went abroad upon his travels, and is said to have gone to Paris; of his transactions at which place the following account is given. He caused six placards to be fixed on the gates of the schools, halls, and colleges belonging to the university, and on the pillars and posts before the houses of the most renowned men for literature in the city, inviting all those who were well versed in any art or science to dispute with him in the college of Navarre, that day six weeks, by nine o'clock in the morning, where he would attend them, and be ready to answer to whatever should be proposed to him in any art or science, and in any of these twelve languages, Hebrew, Syrlac, Arabic, Greek, Latin, Spanish, French, Italian, English, Dutch, Flemish, and Sclavonian; and this either in verse or prose, at the discretion of the disputant. During this whole time, instead of closely applying to his studies, he regarded nothing but hunting, hawking, tilting, vaulting, riding of a well-managed horse, tossing the pike, handling the musquet, and other military feats; or else he employed himself in domestic games, such as balls, concerts of music, vocal and instrumental; cards, dice, tennis, and other diversions of youth. This conduct so provoked the students of the university, that, beneath the placard that was fixed on the Navarre gate, they caused the following words to be written: “If you would meet with this monster of perfection, to search for him either in the tavern or t)ie brothel is the readiest way to find him.” Nevertheless, when the day appointed arrived, Crichton appeared in the college of Navarre, and acquitted himself beyond expression in the disputation, which lasted from nine in the morning till six at night. At length, the president, after extolling him highly for the many rare and excellent endowments which God and nature had bestowed upon him, rose from his chair; and, accompanied by four of the most eminent professors of the university, gave him a diamond ring and a purse full of gold, as a testimony of their approbation and favour. The whole ended with the repeated acclamations and huzzas of the spectators; and henceforward our young disputant was called “The admirable Crichton.” It is added, that he was so little fatigued with the dispute, that he went the very next day to the Louvre, where he had a match'at tilting, an exercise then in great vogue; and, in presence of some princes of the court of France, and a great many ladies, carried away the ring fifteen times successively, and broke as many lances on the Saracen, whatever that might be; probably a sort of mark.

The next account we have of Crichton is, that he went to Rome, where he fixed a placard in all the eminent places of the city, in the following terms: “Nos Jacobus Crichtonus, Scotus, cuicunque rei propositae ex improviso respondebimus.” In a city which abounded in wit, this bold challenge, to answer to any question that could be proposed to him, without his being previously advertised of it, could not escape the ridicule of a pasquinade. It is said, however, that being nowise discouraged, he appeared at the time and place appointed, and that, in presence of the pope, many cardinals, bishops, and doctors of divinity, and professors in all the sciences, he displayed such wonderful proofs of his universal knowledge, that he excited no less surprise than he had done at Paris. Boccalini, who was then at Rome, gives something of a different relation of the matter. According to this author, the pasquinade against Crichton, which was to the following effect, “And he that will see it, let him go to the sign of the Falcon, and it shall be shewn,” made such an impression upon him, that he left a place where he had been so grossly affronted as to be put upon a level with jugglers and mountebanks. From Rome he went to Venice, at his approach to which city he appears to have been in considerable distress, of mind at least, if not with regard to external circumstances. This is evident from the following lines of his poem, “In suum ad urbem Venetam appulsum:”

The chief design of Crichton in this poem was to obtain a favourable reception at Venice, and particularly from Aldus JMamitius, whose praises he celebrates in very high strains. When he presented his verses to Manutins, that critic was struck with a very agreeable surprise; and judged, from the performance, that the author of it must be a person of extraordinary genius. Upon discoursing with the stranger, he was filled with admiration; and, finding him to be skilled in every subject, he introduced him to the acquaintance of the principal men of learning and note in Venice. Here he contracted an intimate friendship not only with Aldus Manutius, but with Laurentius Massa, Spero Speronius, Johannes Donatus, and various other learned persons, to whom he presented several poems in commendation of the city and university. Three of CrichtoH's odes, one addressed to Aldus Manutius, and another to Laurentius Massa, and a third to Johannes Donatus, are still preserved; but are certainly not the productions either of an extraordinary genius, or a correct writer. At length he was introduced to the doge and senate; in whose presence he made a speech, which was accompanied with such beauty of eloquence, and such grace of person and manner, that he received the thanks of that illustrious body; and nothing was talked of through the whole city but this rara in tcrris avis, this prodigy of nature. He held likewise disputations on the subjects of theology, philosophy, and mathematics, before the most eminent professors, and large multitudes of people. His reputation was so great, that the desire of seeing and hearing him brought together a vast concourse of persons from different quarters to Venice. It may be collected from Manutius, that the time in which Crichton exhibited these demonstrations of his abilities, was in the year 1580. During his residence at Venice, he fell into a bad state of health, which continued for the space of four months, and before he was perfectly recovered, he went, by the advice of his friends, to Padua, the university of which city was at that time in great reputation. The day after his arrival, there was a meeting of all the learned men of the place, at the house of Jacobus Aloysius Cornelius; when Crichton opened the assembly with an extemporary poem in praise of the city, the university, and the company who had honoured him with their presence. After this, he disputed for six hours with the most celebrated professors, on various subjects of learning; and he exposed, in particular, the errors of Aristotle, and his commentators, with so much solidity and acuteness, and, at the same time, with so much modesty, that he excited universal admiration. In conclusion, he delivered, extempore, an oration in praise of ignorance, which was conducted with such ingenuity and elegance, that his hearers were astonished. This display of Crichton’s talents was on the 14th of March, 1581. Soon after, he appointed another day for disputation at the palace of the bishop of Padua; not for the purpose of affording higher proofs of his abilities, for that could not possibly be done, but in compliance with the earnest solicitations of some persons, who were not present at the former assemhly. However, several circumstances occurred, which prevented this meeting from taking place. Such is the account of Manutius; but Imperialis relates, that he was informed by his father, who was present upon the occasion, that Crichton was opposed by Archangel us Mercenarius, a famous philosopher, and that he acquitted himself so well as to obtain the approbation of a very honourable company, and even of his antagonist himself. Amidst the discourses which were occasioned by our young Scotchman’s exploits, and the high applauses that were bestowed on his genius and attainments, there were some persons who endeavoured to detract from his merit. For ever, therefore, to confound these invidious impugners of his talents, he caused a paper to be fixed on the gates of St. John and St. Paul’s churches, in which he offered to prove before the university, that the errors of Aristotle, and of all his followers, were almost innumerable; and that the latter had failed, both in explaining their master’s meaning, and in treating on theological subjects. He promised likewise to refute the dreams of certain mathematical professors; to dispute in all the sciences and to answer to whatever should be proposed to him, or objected against him. All this he engaged to do, either in the common logical way, or by numbers and mathematical figures, or in an hundred sorts of verses, at the option of his opponents. According to Manutius, Crichton sustained this contest without fatigue, for three days; during which time he supported his credit, and maintained his propositions, with such spirit and energy, that, from an unusual concourse of people, he obtained acclamations and praises, than which none more magnificent were ever heard by men.

The next account we have of Crichton, and which appears to have been transmitted, through sir Thomas Urquharr, to later biographers, is of an extraordinary instance of bodily courage and skill. It is said, that at Mantua there was at this time a gladiator, who had foiled, in his travels, the most famous fencers in Europe, and had lately killed three persons who had entered the lists with him. The duke of Mantua was much grieved at having granted this man his protection, as he found it to be attended with such fatal consequences. Crichton, being informed of his highness’s concern, offered his service, not only to drive the murderer from Mantua, but from Italy, and to fight him for fifteen hundred pistoles. Though the duke was unwilling to expose such an accomplished gentleman to so great a hazard, yet, relying upon the report he had heard of his warlike achievements, he agreed to the proposal; and, the time and place being appointed, the whole court attended to behold the performance. At the beginning of the combat, Crichton stood only on his defence; while the Italian made his attack with such eagerness and fury, that, having over-acted himself, he began to grow weary. Our young Scotchman now seized the opportunity of attacking his antagonist in return; which he did with so much dexterity and vigour, that he ran him through the body in three different places, of which wounds he immediately died. The acclamations of the spectators were loud and extraordinary upon this occasion; and it was acknowledged by all of them, that they had never seen art grace nature, or nature second the precepts of art, in so lively a manner as they had beheld these two things accomplished on that day. To crown the glory of the action, Crichton bestowed the prize of his victory upon the widows of the three persons who had lost their lives in fighting with the gladiator. It is asserted, that, in consequence of this, and his other wonderful performances, the duke of Mantua made choice of him for preceptor to his son Vincentio di Gonzaga, who is represented as being of a riotous temper and a dissolute life. The appointment was highly pleasing to the court. Crichton, to testify his gratitude to his friends and benefactors, and to contribute to their diversion, framed, we are told, a comedy, wherein he exposed and ridiculed all the weaknesses and failures of the several employments in which men are engaged. This composition was regarded as one of the most ingenious satires that was ever made upon mankind. But the most astonishing part of the story is, that Crichton sustained fifteen characters in the representation of his own play. Among the rest, he acted the divine, the philosopher, the lawyer, the mathematician, the physician, and the soldier, with such inimitable grace, that every time he appeared upon the stage he seemed to be a different person . From being the principal actor in a comedy, Crichton soon became the subject of a dreadful tragedy. One night, during the time of carnival, as he was walking along the streets of Mantua, and playing upon his guitar, he was attacked by half a dozen people in masks. The assailants found that they had no ordinary person to deal with; for they were not able to maintain their ground against him. In the issue, the leader of the company, being disarmed, pulled off his mask, and begged his life, telling him that he was the prince his pupil. Crichton immediately fell on his knees, and expressed his concern for his mistake; alleging, that what he had done was only in his own defence, and that if Gonzaga had any design upon his life he might always be master of it. Then, taking his own sword by the point, he presented it to the prince, who immediately received it, and was so irritated by the affront which he thought he had sustained in being foiled with all "his attendants, that he instantly ran Crichton through the heart. Various have been the conjectures concerning the motives which could induce Vincentio di Gonzaga to be guilty of so ungenerous and brutal an action. Some have ascribed it to jealousy, asserting that he suspected Crichton to be more in favour than himself with a lady whom he passionately loved; and sir Thomas Urqnhart has told a story upon this head which is extravagant and ridiculous in the highest degree. Others, with greater probability, represent the whole transaction as the result of a drunken frolic; and it is uncertain, according to Imperiaiis, whether the meeting of the prince and Crichton was by accident or design. However, it is agreed on all hands, that Crichton lost his life in this rencontre. The time of his decease is said, by the generality of his biographers, to have been in the beginning-of July 1583; but lord Buchan, most likely in consequence of a more accurate immiry, fixes it to the same month in the preceding year. There is a difference likewise with regard to the period of life at which Crichton died. The common accounts declare that he was killed in the thirty-second year of his age; but Imperialis asserts that he was only in his twenty-second when that calamitous event took place; and this fact is confirmed by lord Buchan. Criehton’s tragical end excited a very great and general lamentation. If the foolish ravings of sir Thomas Urquhart are to be credited, the whole court of Mantua went three quarters of a year into mourning for him; the epitaphs and elegies that were composed upon his death, and stuck upon his hearse, would exceed, if collected, the bulk of Homer’s works; and, for a long time afterwards, his picture was to be seen in most of the bed-chambers and galleries of the Italian nobility, representing him on horseback, with a lance in one hand and a book in the other. From all this wonderful account we can only infer, with any degree of confidence, that Crichton was a youth of such lively parts as excited great present admiration, and high expectations with regard to his future attainments. He appears to have had a fine person, to have been adroit in his bodily exercises, to have possessed a peculiar facility in learning languages, to have enjoyed a remarkably quick and retentive memory, and to have excelled in a power of declamation, a fluency of speech, and a readiness of reply. His knowledge likewise was probably very uncommon for his years; and this, in conjunction with his other qualities, enabled him to shine in public disputation. But whether his knowledge were accurate or profound, may justly be questioned; and it may equally be doubted whether he would have arisen to any extraordinary degree of eminence in the literary world, which, however, his early and untimely death prevented from being brought to the test of experiment.

, bishop of Bath and Wells, was born of an ancient family at Dunkeld, in Scotland, in 1593, and was educated at Westminster school, whence in 1613 he was elected to Trinity college, Cambridge, where he took his degrees in arts, and was chosen Greek professor, and university orator. In 1632 he was made treasurer of the cathedral of Wells, and was also canon residentiary, prebendary of Taunton, and had a living in Somersetshire. In 1637 he was admitted to the degree of D. D. and, as reported, was made dean of St. Burian, in Cornwall, but this seems doubtful. In the beginning of the rebellion, Dr. Crighton’s loyalty endangered his person and property, and to save the former he joined the king’s troops at Oxford. But from this place he was obliged afterwards to escape into Cornwall, in the dress of a day-labourer, and contrived to go to Charles II. abroad, who employed him as his chaplain, and bestowed on him the deanery of Wells, of which he took possession at the restoration. In 1670 he was promoted to the bishopric of Bath and Wells, which he held until his death Nov. 21, 1672. He was accounted a man of much learning, and in the discharge of his duty as a preacher, reproved the vices of the court with great boldness and plainness. His only publication was a translation from Greek into Latin, of Sylvester Syguropolus’s history of the council of Florence, Hague, 1660, fol. which was animadverted upon by Leo Allatius, to whom the bishop wrote an answer. Wood says he has some sermons in print. His son, who was chanter of Wells, published a volume of Sermons in 1720.

, of an illustrious family of Italy, established in the comtat Venaissin, knight of Malta, and one of the greatest generals of his age, was born in 1541, and entered into the service in 1557. At the age of fifteen he was at the siege of Calais, and contributed greatly to the taking of that place, by a brilliant action that brought him to the notice of Henry II. He afterwards signalized himself against the Huguenots, or protestants, at the battles of Dreux, of Jarnac, and of Moncontour, in 1562, 1568, and 1569. The youthful hero so greatly distinguished himself in his caravans, especially at the battle of Lepanto in 1571, that he was made choice of, though wounded, to carry the news of the victory to the pope and to the king of France. We find him two years afterwards, in 1573, at the siege of la Rochelle, and in almost all the other considerable rencontres of that period. He every where shewed himself worthy of the name usually given him hy Henry IV. of the Brave Crillon. Henrv Hi. who was well acquainted with his valour, made him knight of his orders in 1585. The specious pretences of the league, the mask of religion which it put on, could never shake the fidelity of the brave Crillon, however great his antipathy to the Huguenots. He rendered important services to his prince in the affair of the Barricades, at Tours, and elsewhere. Henry III. ventured to propose to Crillon to assassinate the duke de Guise, a rebellious subject whom he was afraid to put to death by the sword of the law. Crillon offered to fiorht him; but disdained to hear of assassination. When Henry IV. had made the conquest of his kingdom, Crillon was as faithful to him as he had been to his predecessor. He repulsed the leaguers before Boulogne. The army of Villars having invested Villebceuf in 1592, he vigorously defended that place, replying to the besiegers, on their summoning the besieged to surrender, “Crillon is within, and the enemy without.” Henry, however, did but little for him; “because,” said he, “I was sure of the brave Crillon and I had to gain over my persecutors.” The peace of Vervins having put an end to the wars that had troubled Europe, Crillon retired to Avignon, and there died, in the exercises of piety and penance, the 2d of December 1615, at the age of seventy-four. Francis Bening, a Jesuit, pronounced the discourse at his funeral: a piece of burlesque eloquence, printed in 1616, under the title of “Boucher d'Honnenr,” the “Buckler of Honour,” and reprinted not many years since, as a specimen of ridiculous jargon. Mademoiselle de Lusson published in 2 vols. 12mo, 1757, the life of this hero, called by his contemporaries I'homme sans peur (the man without fear), le brave des braves (the bravest of the brave). This was translated into English by Miss Lomax, of Hertfordshire, and after being revised by Richardson, the author of Clarissa, was published at London, 1760, 2 vols. 12mo. Crillon appears to have been a second chevalier Bayard, not on account of his fantastic and sullen humour, but from the excellence of his heart and his attachment to religion. It is well known that being present one day at a sermon on the sufferings of Christ, when the preacher was come to the description of the flagellation, Crillon, seized with a sudden fit of enthusiasm, put his band to his sword, crying out, “Where wert thou, Crillon?” These sallies of courage, the effect of an exuberant vivacity of temper, engaged him too frequently in duels, in which he always came off with honour. Two instances are recorded of an intrepidity highly characteristic of Crillon. At the battle of Moncontour in 1569, a Huguenot soldier thought to serve his party by dispatching the bravest and most formidable of the catholic generals. In this view he repaired to a place where Crillon, in his return from pursuing the fugitives, must necessarily pass. The soldier no sooner perceived him than he drew the trigger of his piece. Crillon, though severely wounded in the arm, ran up to the assassin, laid hold on him, and was instantly going to thrust him through with his sword, when the soldier threw himself at his feet and begged his life. “I grant it thee,” said Crillou; “and if any faith could be put in a man that is at once a rebel to his king, and an apostate to his religion, I would put thee on thy parole never to bear arms but in the service of thy sovereign.” The soldier, confounded at this act of magnanimity, swore that he would for ever shake off all correspondence with the rebels, and return to the catholic religion. — The young duke of Guise, to whom Henry IV. had sent him at Marseilles, was desirous of trying how far the fortitude of Crillon would go. In this design he caused the alarm to be sounded before the quarters of his brave commander, and two horses to be led to his door. Then, running up to his apartments, pretended that the enemy was master of the port and town, and proposed to him to make his escape, that he might not swell the triumph of the conquerors. Though Crillon was hardly well awake when he heard these tidings, he snatched up his arms without the least trepidation, maintaining that it was better to die sword in hand, than survive the loss of the place. Guise, finding it impossible, by all the arguments he could use, to alter his resolution, accompanied him out of the chamber; but, when they were about the middle of the stairs, he burst out into a violent laughter, which plainly discovered the trick to Crillon. He then put on a graver countenance than when he thought he was going to fight; and griping the duke of Guise by the hand, he said, with an oath, according to his custom, “Young man, never again amuse thyself with putting to the test the heart of an honest man. Par la mort! if thou hadst found me weak, I would have poignarded thee!” After these words he retired without saying any thing more. We will conclude with the laconic billet written to him from the field of battle by Henry IV. after the victory of Arques, where Crillon was unable to be present: “Hang thyself, Crillon! We have been fighting at Arques, and thou wert not there. Adieu, brave Crillon! I love thee whether right or wrong.”

, a learned Bohemian, was born at Schlackowald, in 1584, and after receiving the first rudiments of education at home, was sent in 1603, first to Jena, and afterwards to Wittemberg, where he studied divinity, philosophy, and the learned languages, in which last, particularly the oriental languages, he became critically skilled. He also taught the oriental languages at Wittemberg, published several critical works, which were highly esteemed, and had for his pupils many young men who were afterwards authors of great name. His reputation extending to Austria, he was invited in 1614 to become pastor at Geschwend, where he remained five years, until he was induced to accept the pastoral office at Muhlgrub, the residence of a nobleman named Fenzelius, who offered him the situation, with a liberal income; and here, probably, he would have spent his days, had not Ferdinand II, banished all Lutheran preachers and teachers, which obliged him to go to Ratisbon, and afterwards to Nuremberg. He was then made professor of divinity at Altdorff, which he enjoyed only four years, dying there, of what his biographers call the falling sickness, (comitialis morbus), Aug. 28, 1629. His principal works are, 1. “A Dissertation on the Confusion of Tongues.” 2. “Exercitationes Hebraicse.” 3. “Gymnasium & Lexicon Syriacum,” 2 vols. 4to. 4. “Lingua Samaritica,” 4to. 5. “Grammatica Chaldaica,” 4to. 6. “De auctoritate verbi divini in Hebraico codice,” Amsterdam, 1664, in 4to, &c.

, or more properly Peter Ricci, an Italian scholar, whose memory Mr. Roscoe has rescued from the misrepresentations of his biographers, was descended from the noble family of the Ricci, of Florence, and, when young, was instructed by, and obtained the friendship of Politian. He afterwards became an associate in the literary and convivial meetings at the palace of the Medici at Florence, and after the death of Lorenzo still continued to enjoy the society of Picus and Politian till the death of these distinguished scholars, in 1494. After this it is probable that he quitted his native place, and took an active part in the political commotions which soon occurred, as he frequently refers in his writings to the labours and misfortunes which he sustained, and avows his determination to return to his literary studies. Some part of his time he appears to have passed at Naples, and at Ferrara. He died, according to Negri, about the close of the fifteenth century, at the age of thirty-nine years; but his writings refer to many events beyond that period; and his dedication of his treatise “De Poetis Latinis” to Cosmo de Pazzi, is dated in 1505, which period, it is probable, he did not long survive. His death was the issue of a long sickness, on which he wrote a beautiful and pathetic Latin ode, from which we learn that he resigned himself to his untimely fate, at the same time asserting his claim to the esteem of posterity from the integrity of his life and conduct. The principal work of Crinitus, “De Honesta Disciplina,” as well as his treatise on the Latin poets, before mentioned, Paris, 1520, fol. demonstrates the extent of his learning, and the accuracy of his critical taste. His poetry, all of which is in the Latin language, is also entitled to commendation, and is frequently introduced by Mr. Roscoe, as illustrating the public transactions of the times in which he lived.

, an eminent and loyal citizen in the reigns of king Charles the First, and king Charles the Second, the son of a very eminent merchant of London, was born in 1598, and bred, according to the custom of those times, in a thorough knowledge of business, though heir to a great estate. He made a considerable addition to this by marriage; and being a man of an enterprizing genius, ever active and solicitous about new inventions and discoveries, was soon taken notice of at court, was knighted, and became one of the farmers of the king’s customs. When the trade to Guinea was under great difficulties and discouragements, he framed a project for retrieving it, which required a large capital, but his reputation was so great, that many rich merchants willingly engaged with him in the prosecution of the design; and to give a good example, as well as to shew that he meant to adhere to the work that he had once taken in hand, he caused the castle of Cormantyn upon the Gold Coast, to be erected at his own expence. By this judicious precaution, and by his wise and wary management afterwards, himself and his associates carried their trade so successfully, as to divide amongst them fifty thousand pounds a year. When the rebellion began, and the king was in want of money, sir Nicholas Crispe, and his partners in the farming of the customs, upon very short warning, and when their refusing it would have been esteemed a merit with the parliament, raised him one hundred thousand pounds at once. After the war broke out, and in the midst of all the distractions with which it was attended, he continued to carry on a trade to Holland, France, Spain, Italy, Norwaj', Moscovy, and Turkey, which produced to the king nearly one hundred thousand pounds a year, besides keeping most of the ports open and ships in them constantly ready for his service. All the correspondence and supplies of arms which were procured by the queen in Holland, and by the king’s agents in Denmark, were consigned to his care, and by his prudence and vigilance safely landed in the north, and put into the hands of those for whom they were intended. In the management of so many nice and difficult affairs, he was obliged to keep up a very extensive correspondence, for which he hardly ever made use of cypher, but penned his letters in such a peculiar style, as removed entirely his intentions from the apprehension of his enemies, and yet left them very intelligible unto those with whom he transacted. He had also great address in bringing any thing to bear that he had once contrived, to which it contributed not a little, that in matters of secrecy and danger he seldom trusted to any hands but his own, and made use of all kinds of disguises. Sometimes, when he was believed to be in one place, he was actually at another; letters of consequence he carried in the disguise of a porter; when he wanted intelligence he would be at the water side, with a basket of flounders upon his head, and often passed between London and Oxford in the dress of a butter-woman on horseback, between a pair of panniers. He was the principal author of a well-laid design for publishing the king’s commission of array at London, in which there was nothing dishonourable, so far as sir Nicholas Crispe was concerned, which, however, Clarendon inadvertently confounds with another design, superinduced by Mr. Waller, of surprizing the parliament, in bringing which to bear he proceeded very vigorously at first, till, finding that he had engaged in a matter too big for his management, he suddenly lost his spirits, and some of the chief men in the house of commons gaining intelligence that something was in agitation to their prejudice, May 31st, 1643, they presently seized Mr. Waller, and drew from him a complete discovery, which, from the account they published, plainly distinguished these two projects. By the discovery of this business, sir Nicholas Crispe found himself obliged to declare openly the course he meant to take; and having at his own expence raised a regiment of horse for the king’s service, he distinguished himself at the head of it as remarkably in his military, as he had ever done in his civil capacity. When the siege of Gloucester was resolved on, sir Nicholas Crispe was charged with his regiment of horse to escort the king’s train of artillery from Oxford, which important service he very gallantly performed; but in the month of September following, a very unlucky accident occurred, and though the circumstances attending it clearly justified his conduct to the world, yet the concern it gave him was such as he could not shake off so long as he lived. He happened to be quartered at Rouslidge, in Gloucestershire, where one sir James Ennyon, bart. of Northamptonshire, and some friends of his took up a great part of the house, though none of them had any commands in the army, which, however, sir Nicholas bore with the utmost patience, notwithstanding he was much incommoded by it. Some time after, certain horses belonging to those gentlemen were missing, and sir James Ennyon, though he had lost none himself, insinuating that some of sir Nicholas’s troopers must have taken them, insisted that he should immediately draw out his regiment, that search might be made for them. Sir Nicholas answered him with mildness, and offered him as full satisfaction as it was in his power to give, but excused himself from drawing out his regiment, as a thing improper and inconvenient at that juncture, for reasons which he assigned. Not content, however, sir James left him abruptly, and presently after sent him a challenge, accompanied with a message to this effect, that if he did not comply with it, he would pistol him against the wall. Upon this, sir Nicholas Crispe taking a friend of his with him, went to the place appointed, and finding sir James Ennyon and the person who brought him the challenge, sir Nicholas used his utmost endeavours to pacify him; but he being determined to receive no satisfaction, unless by the sword, they engaged, and sir James received a wound in the rim of the belly, of which he died in two days. Before this, however, he sent for sir Nicholas Crispe, and was sincerely reconciled to him. Upon the 2d of October following, sir Nicholas was brought to a court-martial for this unfortunate affair, and upon a full examination of every thing relating to it, was most honourably acquitted. He continued to serve with the same zeal and fidelity during 1644, and in the spring following; but when the treaty of Uxbridge commenced, the parliament thought fit to mark him, as they afterwards did in the Isle of Wight treaty, by insisting that he should be removed from his majesty’s presence; and a few months after, on April 16th, 1645, they ordered his large house in Breadstreet to be sold, which for many years belonged to his family. Neither was this stroke of their vengeance judged a sufficient punishment for his offences, since having resolved to grant the elector palatine a pension of eight thousand pounds a year, they directed that two thousand should be applied out of the king’s revenue, and the remainder made up out of the estates of lord Culpeper and sir Nicholas Crispe, Sir Nicholas finding himself no lon^ev in a capacity to render his majesty any service, thought it expedient to preserve himself; and in April 1646 embarked with lord Culpeper and colonel Monk for France, but as he had many rich relations who had interest with those in power, they interposed in his favour; and as sir Nicholas perceived that he could be of no service to the royal cause abroad, h did not look upon it as any deviation from his duty, to return and live quietly at home. Accordingly, having submitted to a composition, he came back to London, to retrieve his shattered fortunes, and very soon engaged again in business, with the same spirit and success as before. In this season of prosperity he was not unmindful of the wants of Charles II. but contributed cheerfully to his relief, when his affairs seemed to be in the most desperate condition. After the death of Oliver Cromwell, he was instrumental in reconciling many to their duty, and so well were his principles known, and so much his influence apprehended, that when it was proposed that the royalists in and about London should sign an instrument signifying their inclination to preserve the public tranquillity, he was called upon, and very readily subscribed it. He was also principally concerned in bringing the city of London, in her corporate capacity, to give the encouragement that was requisite to leave general Monk without any difficulties or suspicion as to the sincerity and unanimity of their inclinations. It was therefore very natural, after reading the king’s letter and declaration in common-council, May 3d, 1660, to think of sending some members of their own body to preSent their duty to his majesty; and having appointed nine aldermen and their recorder, they added sir Nicholas Crispe, with several other worthy persons, to the committee, that the king might receive the more satisfaction from their sentiments being delivered by several of those who had suffered deeply in his own and in his father’s cause. His majesty accordingly received these gentlemen very graciously, as a committee, and afterwards testified to them separately the sense he had of their past services, and upon his return, sir Nicholas Crispe and sir John Wolstenholme, were re-instated as farmers of the customs. Sir Nicholas was now in years, and somewhat infirm, spent a great part of his time at his noble country seat near Hammersmith, where he was in some measure the founder of the chapel, and having an opportunity of returning the tbligation he had received from some of his relations, he procured for them that indemnity from the king, gratis, for which he had so dearly paid during the rebellion. The last testimony he received of his royal master’s favour, was his being created a baronet, April 16th, 1665, which he did not long survive, dying February 26th, the next year, in the sixty-seventh year of his age, leaving a very large estate to his grandson, sir Nicholas Crispe. His corpse was interred with his ancestors, in the parish church of St. Mildred, in Bread-street, and his funeral sermon was preached by his reverend and learned kinsman Mr. Crispe, of Christ-church, Oxford. But his heart was sent to the chapel at Hammersmith, where there is a short and plain inscription upon a cenotaph erected to his memory; or rather upon that monument which himself erected in grateful commemoration of king Charles I. as the inscription placed there in sir Nicholas’s life-time tells us, under which, after his decease, was placed a small white marble urn, upon a black pedestal, containing his heart.

, a puritan writer of considerable eminence, the third son of Ellis Crisp, esq. an alderman, and probably related to the family of the subject of the preceding article, was born in Bread-street, London, in 1600, and educated at Eton-school. He afterwards went to Cambridge, where he studied until he took his degree of B. A, and was, on his removal to Oxford, “for the accomplishment,” says Wood, “. of certain parts of learning,” incorporated in the same degree as a member of Baliol-college, in the end of Feb. 1626, and the degree was completed by him in the act following, July 1627. In this year he was presented to the rectory of Newington Butts, near Southwark, but enjoyed the living only a few months, being removed on account of a simoniacal contract. In the same year, however, he became rector of Brinkwortb, in Wiltshire, and a few years after proceeded D. D. At Brinkworth he was much followed for his edifying manner of preaching, and for his great hospitality. But on the breaking out of the rebellion, being noted among those who were inclined to favour the republicans, he met witk. such harsh treatment from the king’s soldiers, as obliged him to repair to London, where his preaching, although at first acceptable, was soon accused of leaning to Antinomianism, and involved him with many of his brethren in a controversy. He was baited, says Wood, by fifty-two opponents, in a grand dispute concerning the freeness of the grace of God in Jesus Christ; and by this encounter, which was eagerly managed on his part, he contracted a disease that brought him to his grave. This disease, communicated by infection, and probably nowise connected with the eagerness of his dispute, was the small-pox, of which he died Feb. 27, 1642, and was buried in the family vault in St. Mildred’s, Bread-street. In his last sickness, he avowed his firm adherence in the doctrines he had preached. The dispute mentioned by Wood, was probably carried on in person, or in the pulpit, for we do not find that he published any thing in his life-time; but, after his death, three 4to volumes of his sermons were printed by his son, under the title of “Christ alone exalted,” containing in all forty-two sermons. When they appeared, we are told, that the Westminster assembly proposed to have them burnt; and although we do not find that this was done, Flavel, and other non-conformists, endeavoured to expose the danger of some of his sentiments. Here, probably, the controversy might have rested, had not his works been again published about the revolution, by one of his sons, with additions. This excited a new controversy, confined almost entirely to the dissenters, but in which some of the most eminent of that body took a part, and carried it on with an asperity which produced considerable disunion. In particular it disturbed the harmony of the weekly lecture established at Pinners’ -hall, and the congregation mostly inclining to Dr. Crisp’s sentiments, the minority seceded, and began a weekly lecture at Salters’-hall. The principal writers in this controversy were Williams, Edwards, Lorimer, &c. against Crisp; and Chauncey, Mather, Lobb, &c. for him; and after a contest of seven-years, they rather agreed to a suspension of hostilities than came to a decision. The truth appears to have been, that Crisp was extremely unguarded in many of his expressions, but was as far as the fiercest of his antagonists from intending to support any doctrine that tended to licentiousness. A very full account of the whole controversy may be seen in the last of our authorities.

, abbot of Westminster in the eleventh and twelfth centuries, was born in Normandy, of a considerable family, and educated in the monastery of Bee, under Lanfranc, afterwards archbishop of Canterbury, who was then prior of that convent, and taught the liberal arts with great reputation. In this seminary Crispin became a monk, under Anselm, who was at that time abbot. He was much esteemed by both these eminent men, the former of whom, after his advancement to the see of Canterbury, sent for him to England, and made him abbot of St. Peter’s, Westminster, and Lanfranc parted with him reluctantly, and continued to correspond with him as long as he lived. Crispin was abbot of Westminster thirty-two years, during which he was sent on different embassies by king Henry I. Leland says, that he was some time at Rome, probably on some ecclesiastical errand. He died in 1117, and was buried in the south part of the great cloisters. Leland, Bale, and Pits, who give him the character of a very learned and pious ecclesiastic, attribute a great many works in divinity to him, of which we know of one only that was published, “De fide ecclesise, contra Judasos,” Cologne, 1537, and Paris, 1678, with Anselm’s works. This was occasioned by a disputation which he held with a very learned Jew at Mentz, whose arguments, with his own, he drew up in the form of a dialogue.

, an ingenious printer in the sixteenth century, and a native of Arras, was originally clerk to Charles du Moulin, and admitted advocate to the parliament of Paris; but afterwards, forming a friendship with Beza, he embraced the reformed religion, and retired to Geneva, where he gained great reputation by his printing, and died of the plague, 1572. Crispin was author of a Greek Lexicon, Geneva, 1562, 4to, and reprinted in folio. He also published a martyrology under the title of “Histoire des vrais temoings de la verité, &c. depuis Jean Hus, jusqu'au tems present,” ibid. 1570, fol. and reprinted in 1582, 1597, and 1609. Moreri and Foppen, while they allow Crispin’s merit as a man of learning and an useful and accurate printer, cannot forgive him for this last publication.