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, an eminent English divine, was born at Wetherslack, in Westmoreland, April 20, 1612. His parents were not considerable either for rank or riches; but were otherwise persons of great merit, and happy in their family. John, the third son, was intended for the church, but being sent to school in the neighbourhood, he lost much time under masters deficient in diligence and learning. At length he was sent to Sedberg school, in Yorkshire, where, under the care of a tolerable master, he gave early marks both of genius and piety. In the year 1631, and the eighteenth of his age, he was admitted of St. John’s college, at Cambridge, under the tuition of Mr. Thomas Fothergill, who proved at once a guardian and a preceptor, supplying his necessities, as well as instructing him in learning. By this help Mr. Barwick quickly so distinguished himself, that when a dispute arose about the election of a master, which at last came to be heard before the privy-council, the college chose Mr. Barwick, then little above twenty, to manage for them, by which he not only became conspicuous in the university, but was also taken notice of at court, and by the ministry. In 1635 he became B. A. while these affairs were still depending. April the 5th, 1636, he was created Fellow, without opposition, and in 1638 he took the degree of M. A. When the civil war broke out, and the king wrote a letter to the university, acquainting them that he was in extreme want, Mr. Barwick concurred with those loyal persons, who first sent him a small supply in money, and afterwards their college-plate, and upon information that Cromwell, afterwards the protector, lay with a party of foot at a place called Lower Hedges, between Cambridge and Huntington, in order to make himself master of this small treasure, Mr. Barwick made one of the party of horse which conveyed it through by-roads safely to Nottingham, where his majesty had set up his standard. By this act of loyalty the parliament was so provoked, that they sent Cromwell with a body of troops to quarter in the university, where they committed the most brutal outrages. Mr. Barwick also published a piece against the covenant, entitled “Certain Disquisitions and Considerations, representing to the conscience the unlawfuluess of the oath entitled A Solemn League and Covenant for Reformation, &c. as also the insufficiency of the urgiiments used in the exhortation for taking the said covenant. Published by command,” Oxford, 1644. In this, he was assisted by Messrs. Isaac Barrow, Seth Ward, Peter Gunning, and others. The above is the date of the second edition, the first having been seized and burnt. Having by this time provoked the men in power, he retired to London, and soon after was intrusted with the management of the king’s most private concerns, and carried on with great secrecy a constant correspondence between London and Oxford, where the king’s head-quarters then were, an employment for which there never was a man perhaps better fitted. For with great modesty, and a temper naturally meek, he had a prudence, sagacity, and presence of mind. He lived upon his first coming to town with Dr. Morton, then bishop of Durham, at Durham-house, which being an old spacious building, afforded him great conveniences for hiding his papers, and at the same time his residence with that prelate as his chaplain, countenanced his remaining in London. One great branch of his employment, was the bringing back to their duty some eminent persons who had been misled by the fair pretences of the great speakers in the long parliament. Amongst those who were thus reclaimed by the care of this religious and loyal gentleman, were sir Thomas Middleton and colonel Roger Pope, both persons of great credit with the party, and both very sincere converts. By his application, likewise, Mr. Cresset was convinced of his errors, and became an useful associate in the dangerous employment of managing the king’s intelligence. Even after the king’s affairs became desperate, Mr. Barwick still maintained his correspondence; and when his majesty was in the hands of the army, had frequent access to him, and received his verbal orders. To perform his duty the more effectually, he had the king’s express command to lay aside his clerical habit; and in the dress of a private gentleman, with his sword by his side, he remained without suspicion in the army, and gave the king much useful intelligence; and even when his majesty came to be confined inCarisbrook castle, in the closest manner, Mr. Cresset, who was placed about him through the dexterous management of Mr. Barwick, preserved his majesty a free intercourse with his friends; for this purpose he first deposited with Mr. Barwick a cypher, and then hid a copy of it in a crack of the wall in the king’s chamber. By the help of this cypher, the king both wrote and read many letters every week, all of which passed through the hands of Mr. Barwick. He likewise was concerned in a well-laid design for procuring the king’s escape, which, however, was unluckily disappointed. These labours, though they were very fatiguing, did not hinder him from undertaking still greater; for when Mr. Holder, who had managed many correspondences for the king, was discovered and imprisoned, he had so much spirit and address as to procure admittance to, and a conference with him, whereby his cyphers and papers were preserved, and Mr. Barwick charged himself with the intelligence which that gentleman had carried on. After this he had a large share in bringing about the treaty at the Isle of Wight, and was now so well known to all the loyal party, that even those who had never seen him, readily trusted themselves to his care, in the most dangerous conjunctures. When the king was murdered, and the royal cause seemed to be desperate, Mr. Barwick, though harassed with a continual cough, followed by a spitting of blood, and afterwards by a consumption of his lungs, yet would not interrupt the daily correspondence he maintained with the ministers of king Charles II. At last, when he was become very weak, he was content that his brother, Dr. Peter Barwick, should share in his labours, by attending the post-office, which he did for about six months; and then this office was devolved on Mr. Edward Barwick, another of his brothers. This gentleman had not been engaged two months in this perilous business, before one Bostock, who belonged to the post-office, betrayed both him and Mr. John Barwick, together with some letters which came from the king’s ministers abroad, into the hands of those who were then possessed of the government. These letters were superscribed to Mr. James Vandelft, Dutch merchant in London, which was a fictitious name made use of to cover their correspondence. Upon his examination, Mr. Barwick did all he could to take the blame upon himself, in order to free his brother Edward. Yet so careful he was of offending against truth, that he would not deny his knowledge of the letters, but insisted that he was not bound to accuse himself. Those who examined him were not ashamed to threaten him, though half dead with his distemper, with putting him to the torture if he did not immediately discover all who were concerned with him. To this Mr. Barwick answered with great spirit, that neither himself, nor any of his friends, had done any thing which they knew to be repugnant to the laws; and if by the force of tortures, which it was not likely a dry and bloodless carcase like his would be able to bear, any thing should be extorted which might be prejudicial to others, such a confession ought to go for nothing. Mr. Edward Barwick behaved with the like firmness, so that not so much as one person fell into trouble through their misfortune; and as for Mr. John Barwick, he had the presence of mind to burn his cyphers and other papers before those who apprehended him could break open his door. This extraordinary fortitude and circumspection so irritated president Bradshaw, sir Henry Mildmay, and others of the council who examined them, that, by a warrant dated the 9th of April 1650, they committed both the brothers to the Gate-house, where they were most cruelly treated, and three days afterwards committed Mr. John Barwick to the Tower. The reason they assigned for this change of his prison was, that he might be nearer to the rack, assuring him that in a few days they would name commissioners to examine him, who should have that engine for their secretary. Mr. Francis West, who was then lieutenant of the Tower, put him in a dungeon where he was kept from pen, ink, and paper, and books, with restraint from seeing any person except his keepers and, as an additional punishment, had boards nailed before his window to exclude the fresh air. In this melancholy situation he remained many months, during which time the diet he used was herbs or fruit, or thin water-gruel, made of oatmeal or barley, with currants boiled in it, and sweetened with a little sugar, by which he recovered beyond all expectation, and grew plump and fat. A cure so perfect, and so strange, that Dr. Cheyne, and other physicians have taken notice of it in their writings as a striking instance of the power of temperance, even in the most inveterate diseases. While he was thus shut up, his friends laboured incessantly for his service and relief, and his majesty king Charles II. for whom he thus suffered, gave the highest testimonies of his royal concern for so faithful a subject. After fifteen months passed in confinement, Mr. Otway, and some other friends, procured a warrant from president Bradshaw to visit him, who were not a little surprised to find him in so good health, whom they had seen brought so low, as to engage this very Mr. Otway to take care of his burial. His prudence and patience under this persecution was so great, that they had a happy effect on all who came about him. Robert Brown, who was deputy lieutenant of the Tower, became first exceeding civil to him, and afterwards his convert, so as to have his child baptized by him; and, which was a still stronger proof of his sincerity, he quitted the very profitable post he held, and returned to his business, that of a cabinet-maker. Nay, Mr. West, the lieutenant of the Tower, who treated him so harshly at his entrance, abated by degrees of this rigour, and became at last so much softened, that he was as ready to do him all offices of humanity, removing him out of a noisome dungeon into a handsome chamber, where he might enjoy freer air, and sometimes even the company of his friends. He likewise made assiduous application to the council of state, that while Mr. Barwick remained in the Tower, he might have an allowance granted him for his subsistence; and when he could not prevail, he supplied him from his own table. Indeed, after two years confinement, the commonwealth did think fit to allow him five shillings a week, which he received for about four months. Then, through the same friendly intercession of Mr. West, he was discharged on the 7th of August, 1652, but upon giving security to appear at any time within a twelve-month before the council of state. He then visited his old patron, the bishop of Durham, his aged parents, and the incomparable lady Savile; but the place he chose for his residence was the house of sir Thomas Eversfield, of Sussex, a man of great integrity as well as learning, with whom he lived for many months. After the expiration of the year, to which the recognizance entered into hy himself and his friends, Mr. Thomas Royston, student of Gray’s-inn, and Mr. Richard Royston, of London, bookseller, extended, he began to think of getting up his bond, and entering again into the king’s service. With this view he found it expedient to pay a visit to president Bradshaw, who, as he had now quarrelled with Cromwell, received him civilly, and told him he probably would hear no more of his recognizance. On this assurance, he began to enter again into business, and drew over several considerable persons, such as colonel John Clobery, colonel Daniel Redman, and colonel Robert Venables, to the king’s service, with whom he conferred on several schemes for restoring monarchy, in all which they were long disappointed by Cromwell. His friend, sir Thomas Eversfield, dying, and his widow retiring to the house of her brother, sir Thomas Middleton, at Chirk castle, in Denbighshire, Dr. Barwick accompanied her thither, and remained for some time with sir Thomas, who was his old friend. His own and the king’s affairs calling him back to London, he lived with his brother, Dr. Peter Barwick, in St. Paul’s Church-yard, and there managed the greatest part of the king’s correspondence, with as much care, secrecy, and success as ever. While he was thus engaged, he received some interruption by the revival of that old calumny on the church of England, the Nag’s head ordination, to which he furnished bishop Bramhall with the materials for a conclusive answer. His modesty and private way of living preserved him from much notice, even in those prying times; and yet, when proper occasions called for more open testimonies of his principles, Mr. Barwick did not decline professing them, as appeared by his assisting Dr. John Hewet, while in prison for a plot against Cromwell, and even on the scaffold, when he lost his head. By the death of this gentleman, his branch of intelligence, and the care of conveying some hundred pounds which he had collected for the king’s use, devolved upon Mr. Barwick; who, though he had already so much upon his hands, readily undertook, and happily performed it. The concern Mr. Barwick had for the king and for the state, did not hinder him from attending, when he was called thereto, the business of the church, in which, however, he had a very worthy associate, Mr. Richard Allestrey, who took the most troublesome part on himself. by performing several dangerous journies into Flanders, in order to receive the king’s commands by word of mouth. In the rising of sir George Booth, ue had a principal concern in the managing of the design, and in providing for the safety of such as escaped after it miscarried. Not long after he narrowly missed a new imprisonment, through the treachery of some who were intrusted by the king’s ministers: for by their intelligence, Mr. Allestrey was seized as soon as he landed at Dover, and one of Mr. Barwick’s letters intercepted, but it is supposed to have been imperfectly decyphered. In the midst of these difficulties died the good oid bishop of Durham, whom Mr. Barwick piously assisted in his last moments, preached his funeral sermon, and afterwards wrote his life, whicu he dedicated to the king. All the hopes that now remained of a restoration rested upon general Monk, and though Mr. Barwick had no direct correspondence with him, yet he furnished him with very important assistance in that arduous affair. After there seemed to be no longer any doubt of the king’s return, Mr. Barwick was sent over by the bishops to represent the state of ecclesiastical affairs, and was received by his majesty with cordial affection, preached before him the Sunday after his arrival, and was immediately appointed one of his chaplains. Yet these extraordinary marks of the king’s favour never induced him to make any request for himself, though he did not let slip so fair an opportunity of recommending effectually several of his friends, and procuring for them an acknowledgment suitable to each of their services. On his return he visited the university of Cambridge, where he very generously relinquished his right to his fellowship, in favour of an intruder, because he had the reputation of being a young man of learning and probity. Before he left the university, he took the degree of D. D. upon which occasion he performed his exercise, merely to support the discipline of the university. The thesis on this occasion was very singular, viz. That the method of imposing penance, and restoring penitents in the primitive church was a godly discipline, and that it is much to be wished it was restored. The Latin disputation upon this question has been preserved, and it was chiefly for the sake of inserting it, that Dr. Peter Barwick composed his brother’s life in Latin. When the church of England was restored by king Charles II. the deans and chapters revived, Dr. Barvvick, according to his usual modesty, contented himself with recommending his tutor, old Mr. Fothergill, to a prehend in the cathedral church of York; but as to himself, he would have rested content with the provision made for him by his late patron, the bishop of Durham, who had given him the fourth stall in his cathedral, and the rectories of Wolsingham, and Houghton in le Spring; and used to say that he had too much. Among other extraordinary offices to which he was called at this busy time, one was to visit Hugh Peters, in order to draw from him some account of the person -who actually cut off the head of king Charles I.; but in this neither he nor Dr. Doiben, his associate, had any success. Before the restoration there had been a design of consecrating Dr. Barvvick, bishop of Man; but the countess of Derby desiring to prefer her chaplain, the king, of his own motive, would have promoted him to the see of Carlisle, which the doctor steadily refused, that the world might not imagine the extraordinary zeal he had shewn for episcopacy flowed from any secret hope of his one day being a bishop. Upon this he was promoted to the deanery of Durham, with which he kept the rectory of Houghton. He took possession of his deanery on the feast of All Saints, 1660, and as he enjoyed a large revenue, he employed it in repairing public buildings, relieving the poor, and keeping up great hospitality, both at the house of his deanery and at Houghton. But before the year was out, he was called from these cares, in which he would willingly have spent his whole life, by his being made dean of St. Paul’s, a preferment less in value, and attended with much more trouble than that he already possessed. As soon as he had done this, he put an end to all granting of leases, even where he had agreed for the fine with the tenants, and did many other things for the benefit of his successor, which shewed his contempt of secular advantages, and his sincere concern for the rights of the church. He took possession of the deanery of St. Paul’s, about the middle of October, 1661, and found, as he expected, all in very great disorder with respect to the church itself, and every thing that concerned it. He set about reforming these abuses with a truly primitive spirit, and prosecuted with great vigour the recovery of such revenue’s as in the late times of distraction had been alienated from the church; though with respect to his own particular concerns he was never rigid to any body, but frequently gave up things to which he had a clear title. By his interest with his majesty he obtained two royal grants under the great seal of England, one for the repair of the cathedral, the other for enumerating and securing its privileges. In this respect he was so tender, that he would not^Joermit the lord mayor of London to erect there a seat for himself at the expence of the city, but insisted that it should be done at the charge of the church. Towards the repairing the cathedral, he, together with the residentiaries, gave the rents of the houses in St. Paul’s Church-yard as a settled fund, besides which they advanced each of them 500l. a piece, and, in many other respects, he demonstrated that neither the love of preferment, nor the desire of wealth, had any share in his acceptance of this dignity. He was next appointed one of the nine assistants to the twelve bishops commissioned to hold a conference with the like number of presbyterian ministers upon the review of the liturgy, usually called the Savoy conference, because held at the bishop of London’s lodgings in the Savoy. He was also, by the unanimous suffrage of all the clergy of the province of Canterbury assembled in convocation, chosen prolocutor on the 18th of February, 1661; in which office he added to the reputation he had before acquired. His application, however, to the discharge of so many and so great duties brought upon him his old “distemper, so that in November, 1662, he was confined to his chamber: he heightened his disease by officiating at the sacrament the Christmas-day following, after which he was seized with a violent vomiting of blood. Upon this he was advised to a change of air, and retired to Therfield in Hertfordshire, of which he was rector, but finding himself there too far from London, he returned to Chiswick, where he in some measure recovered his health. As soon as he found he had a little strength, he applied himself there to the putting in order the archives of St. Paul’s church, but this return of active employment was followed by an extraordinary flux of blood, which rendered him very weak, and defeated his favourite design of retiring to Therfield. When he first found his health declining, he made choice of and procured this living, intending to have resigned his deanery and office of prolocutor, to those who had vigour enough to discharge them, and to spend the remainder of his days in the discharge of his pastoral office, to which he thought himself bound by his taking orders. But coming upon some extraordinary occasion to London, he was seized with a pleurisy, which carried him off in three days. He was attended in his last moments by Dr. Peter Gunning, afterwards bishop of Ely, and as he lived, so he died, with all the marks of an exemplary piety, on the 22d of October, 1664, after he had struggled almost twelve years with this grievous distemper. By hrs will he bequeathed the greatest part of his estate to charitable uses, and this with a judgment equal to his piety. His body was interred in the cathedral of St. Paul’s, with an epitaph composed by Mr. Samuel Howlet. The character of Mr. Barwick may be easily collected from the preceding sketch, but is more fully illustrated in his life published by Dr. Peter Barwick, a work of great interest and amusement. His printed works are very few. Besides the tract on the covenant, before mentioned, we have only his” Life of Thomas Morton, bishop of Durham, and a funeral sermon,“1660, 4to; and” Deceivers deceived,“a sermon at St. Paul’s, Oct. 20, 1661,” 1661, 4to. Many of his letters to chancellor Hyde are among Thurloe’s State Papers.

, canon of Christ-church, Oxford, and king’s professor of divinity in that university, was born in the college at Ely, July 23, 1707. His father, Mr. Samuel Bentham, was a very worthy clergyman, and vicar of Witchford, a small living near that city; who having a numerous family, his son Edward, on the recommendation of Dr. Smalridge, dean of Christ-church, was sent in 1717 to the school of that college. Having there received the rudiments of classical education, he was in Lent term 1723, when nearly 16 years of age, admitted of the university of Oxford, and placed at Corpus-Christi college under his relation Dr. John Burton. In this situation, his serious and regular deportment, and his great proficiency in all kinds of academical learning, recommended him to the notice of several eminent men; and, among others, to the favour of Dr. Tanner, canon of Christ-church, by whose death he was disappointed of a nomination to a studentship in that society. At CorpusChristi college he formed a strict friendship with Robert Hoblyn, esq. of Nanswydden in Cornwall, afterwards representative for the city of Bristol, whose character, as a scholar and a member of parliament, rendered him deservedly esteemed by the lovers of literature and of their country. In company with this gentleman and another intimate friend, Dr. Ratcliff, afterwards master of Pembroke college, Mr. Bentham made, at different times, the tour of part of France, and other countries. Having taken the degree of B. A. he was invited by Dr. Cotes, principal of Magdalen-hall, to be his vice-principal; and was accordingly admitted to that society, March 6, 1730. Here he continued only a short time, for, on the 23d of April in the year following, he was elected fellow of Oriel college. In act term, 1732, he proceeded to the degree of M. A. and, about the same time, was appointed tutor in the college; in which capacity he discharged his duty, in the most laborious and conscientious manner, for more than twenty years. March 26, 1743, Mr. Bentham took the degree of B. D.; and April 22, in the same year, was collated to the prebend of Hundreton, in the cathedral church of Hereford. July 8, 1749, he proceeded to the degree of D. D.; and in April 1754 was promoted to the fifth stall in that cathedral. Here he continued the same active and useful course of life for which he had always been distinguished. He served the offices of sub-dean and treasurer, for himself and others, above twelve years. The affairs of the treasury, which Dr. Bentham found in great confusion, he entirely new modelled, and put into a train of business in which they have continued ever since, to the great ease of his successors, and benefit of the society. 80 intent was he upon the regulation and management of the concerns of the college, that he refused several preferments which were offered him, from a conscientious persuasion that the avocations they would produce were incompatible with the proper discharge of the offices he had voluntarily undertaken. Being appointed by the king to fill the divinity chair, vacant by the death of Dr. Fanshavve, Dr. Bentham was, with much reluctance, and after having repeatedly declined it, persuaded, by archbishop Seeker and his other learned friends, to accept of it; and, on the 9th of May, 1763, he was removed to the 8th stall in the cathedral. His unwillingness to appear in this station was increased by the business he had to transact in his former situation, and which he was afraid would be impeded by the accession of new duties: not to say that a life spent in his laborious and sedentary manner had produced some unfavourable effects on his constitution, and rendered a greater attention than he had hitherto shewn to private ease and health, absolutely necessary. Besides, as the duties, when properly discharged, were great and interesting, so the station itself was of that elevated and public nature to which his ambition never inclined him: 66 latere maluit atque prodesse.“The diffidence he had of his abilities had ever taught him to suspect his own sufficiency; and his inauguratory lecture breathed the same spirit, the text of which was,” Who is sufficient for these things?" But whatever objections Dr. Bentham might have to the professorship before he entered upon it, when once he had accepted of it, he never suffered them to discourage him in the least from exerting hi* most sincere endeavours to render it both useful and honourable to the university. He set himself immediately to draw out a course of lectures for the benefit of young students in divinity, which he constantly read at his house at Christ-church, gratis-^ three times a week during term-time, till his decease. The course took up a year; and he not only exhibited in it a complete system of divinity, but recommended proper books, some of which he generously distributed to his auditors. His intense application to the pursuit of the plan he had laid clown, together with those concerns in which his affection for his friends, and his zeal for the public good in every shape, involved him, proved more than a counterbalance for all the advantages of health and vigour that a strict and uniform temperance could procure. Jt is certain that he sunk under the rigorous exercise of that conduct he had proposed to himself: for though 6-; years are a considerable proportion in the strongest men’s lives, yet his remarkable abstemiousness and self-denial, added to a disposition of body naturally strong, promised, in the ordinary course of things, a longer period. Dr. Bentham was a very early riser, and had transacted half a day’s business before many others begin their day. His countenance was uncommonly mild and engaging, being strongly characteristic of the piety and benevolence of his mind; and at the same time it by no means wanted expression, but, upon proper occasions, could assume a very becoming and affecting authority. In his attendance upon the public duties of religion, he was exceedingly strict and constant; not suffering himself ever to be diverted from it by any motives, either of interest or pleasure. Whilst he was thus diligent in the discharge of his own duty, he was not severe upon those who were not equally so in theirs. He could scarcely ever be prevailed upon to deliver his opinion upon subjects that were to the disadvantage of other men; and when he could not avoid doing it, his sentiments were expressed with the utmost delicacy and candour. No one was more ready to discover, commend, and reward every meritorious endeavour. Of himself he never was he? rd to speak and if his own merits were touched upon in the slightest manner, he felt a real uneasiness. Though he was not fond of the formalities of visiting, he entered into the spirit of friendly society and intercourse with great pleasure. His constant engagements, indeed, of one kind or other, left him not much time to be devoted to company; and the greater part of his leisure hours he spent in the enjoyment of domestic pleasures, for which his amiable and peaceable disposition seemed most calculated.

He was, it is said, a man of a devout and melancholy cast; and upon a disgust he had conceived to the theatre, from the cold reception of his “Pertharite,” betook himself to the translation of “The Imitation of Jesus Christ,” by Kempis; which he performed very elegantly. He returned, however, to the drama, although not with his wonted vigour. He spoke little in company, even upon subjects which he perfectly understood. He was a very worthy and honest man; not very dexterous in making his court to the great, which was perhaps the chief reason why he never drew any considerable advantage from his productions, besides the reputation which always attended them. Racine, in a speech made to the French academy in the beginning- of 1685, does great justice to our author’s talents. After representing the miserable state in which the French theatre then was, that it was without order, decency, sense, taste, he passes to the sudden reformation effected by Corneille: “a man who possessed at once all those extraordinary talents which form a great poet; art, force, judgment, and wit. Nor can any one sufficiently admire the greatness of his sentiments, the skill he shews in the economy of his subjects, his masterly way of moving the passions, the dignity, and at the same time the vast variety of his characters.” This encomium must have the more weight, as it comes from the only man in the world who has been considered as his great rival. Yet we are told, that when Racine read his tragedy of “Alexander” to Corneille, the latter gave him many commendations, but advised him to apply his genius, as not being adapted to the drama, to some other speuies of poetry. Corneille, says Dr. Warton, one would hope, was incapable of a mean jealousy; and if he gave this advice, thought it really proper to be given. The French have ever been fond of opposing Corneille to Shakspeare ' 9 but the want of comic powers in Corneille, for his comedies are truly contemptible, must ever obstruct the comparison. His genius was unquestionably very rich, but seems more turned towards the epic than the tragic muse; and in. general he is magnificent and splendid, rather than tender and touching. He is, says Blair, an opinion in which all English critics agree, the most declamatory of all the French tragedians. He united the copiousness of Dryden with the fire of Lucan; and he resembles them also in their faults: in their extravagance and impetuosity. As to the opinions of the best modern French critics, on the merits of Corneille, we may refer to an admirable “Eloge,” published by Da Ponte, in London, 1808, and to Suard’s “Melange de Litterature,” 1808. But Fontenelle’s comparison between Corneille and Racine, as less accessible to many readers, may be added here with advantage. Corneille, says Fontenelle, had no excellent author before his eyes, whom he could follow; Racine had Corneille. Corneille found the French stage in a barbarous state, and advanced it to great perfection: Racine has not supported it in the perfection in which he found it. The characters of Corneille are true, though they are not common: the characters of Racine are not true, but only in proportion as they are common. Sometimes the characters of Corneille are, in some respects, false and unnatural, because they are noble and singular; those of Racine are often, in some respects, low, on account of their being natural and ordinary. He that has a noble heart, would chuse to resemble the heroes of Corneille; he that has a little heart, is pleased to find his own resemblance in the heroes of Racine. We carry, from hearing the pieces of the one, a desire to be virtuous; and we carry the pleasure of finding men like ourselves, in foibles and weaknesses, from the pieces of the other. The tender and graceful of Racine is sometimes to be found in Corneille: the grand and sublime of Corneille is never to be found in Racine. Racine has painted only the French and the present age, even when he designed to paint another age and other nations: we see in Corneille all those ages, and all those nations, that he intended to paint. The number of the pieces of Corneille is much greater than that of Racine: CorneiHe, notwithstanding, has made fewer tautologies and repetitions than Racine has made. ID the passages where the versification of CorneiHe is good, it is more bold, more noble, and, at the same time, as pure and as finished as that of Racine: but it is not preserved in this degree of beauty: and that of Racine is always equally supported. Authors, inferior to Racine, have written successfully after him, in his own way: no author, not even Racine himself, dared to attempt, after CorneiHe, that kind of writing which was peculiar to him. Voltaire, the best editor of Corneille’s works, seems in some measure to coincide with Fontenelle. “CorneiHe,” says he, “alone formed himself; but Louis XIV. Colbert, Sophocles, and Euripides, all of them contributed to form Racine.” When we arrive, however, at Racine, it will be necessary to estimate his merit, without the bias which comparative criticism generally produces.

In these circumstances one might wonder, how he should form a design, at a time when elections were considered as things of the utmost consequence, of getting himself chosen, more especially for the town of Cambridge, where he was so far from having any interest, that he was not so much as known; and, if he had been known, would never have been elected. But the whole of that affair was owinor to an accidental intrigue, in which himself had at first no hand. One reason why he quitted Huntingdon was, a dispute he had with Mr. Bernard, upon his becoming recorder, about precedency; a point in which he was very nice. After he came to Ely, he resorted entirely to nonconformist meetings, where he quickly distinguished himself by his gifts, as they were styled in those days, of preaching, praying, and expounding. At one of these meetings he met with Richard Tims, a tradesman of Cambridge, who rode every Sunday to Ely for the sake of pure doctrine; and captivated his heart entirely. This man, hearing that a parliament was to be called, and being himself one of the common-council, took it into his head, that there could not be a fitter man to be their burgess than Mr. Cromwell; and with this notion he went to Wildbore, a draper in the town, and a relation of Cromwell’s, who agreed with him exactly as to the fitness of the person, but told him the thing was impossible, as he was not a freeman. Tims, not satisfied with that, addressed himself next to Evett, a tallow-chandler, who was also a puritan. He relished the thought; but, for the same reason, pronounced the design impracticable. However, Tims had hardly left his house, before Evett sent for him back, and whispered, that the mayor had a freedom to bestow, and that one Kitchingman, an attorney, who had married his wife’s sister, and was of their party, had a great influence over him. He advised him therefore to move Kitchingman in it, who was to use his interest with the mayor, stating that Mr. Cromwell was a gentleman of fortune, and had a mind to come and live in the town, which was then in a poor condition; but with a strict charge to hide the true design, alderman French, who was then the mayor, being a declared royalist. When they came to make this application to him, French said he was sorry, but that in reality they came too late, for he had promised his freedom to the king’s fisherman. Kitchingman easily removed this objection, by undertaking that the town should confer a freedom upon the person he mentioned; and accordingly at the next court-day, the mayor declared his intention to bestow his freedom on a very worthy gentleman of the isle of Ely, one Mr. Cromwell; who, being apprized of his friend’s industry, came to town over night, and took up his lodgings at Almond’s, a grocer. Thither the mace was sent for him, and he came into court dressed in scarlet, richly laced with gold; where, having provided plenty of claret and sweetmeats, they were so well circulated among the corporation, that they unanimously declared Mr. Mayor’s freeman to be a civil worthy gentleman. When the election came on, the mayor discovered his mistake; but it was then too late, for the party among the burgesses was strong enough to choose him, which they accordingly did at the next election the ensuing year.

The great objects which Diderot and his coadjutors had in view when they entered upon this work, are now universally known. It has been completely proved, that their intention was to sap the foundation of all religion; not directly or avowedly, for \mre-faced atheism would not then have been suffered in France. They had engaged a very worthy, though not very acute clergyman, to furnish the theological articles, and while he was supporting, by the best arguments which he could devise, the religion of his country, Diderot and D'Alembert were overturning those arguments under titles which properly allowed of no such disquisitions. This necessarily produced digressions: for the greatest genius on earth could not, when writing on the laws of motion, attack the mysteries of Christianity without wandering from his subject; but that the object of these digressions might not pass unnoticed by any class of readers, care was taken to refer to them from the articles where the question was discussed by the divine. That when employed in this way, Diderot seems to write obscurely, is indeed true; but the obscurity is not his. His atheism was so plain, that for the most part, D'Alembert or some other leader, had to retouch his articles, and throw a mist over them, to render their intention less obvious.

, a brave English officer, the descendant of a very ancient family, was born in 1728 at Shipdenhall, near Halifax, in Yorkshire, which, for many centuries, had been in the possession of his ancestors, and is now the property and residence of their lineal descendant. His father dying when he was very young, his education was superintended by an uncle, a very worthy clergyman. He was brought up at a free school in Lancashire, where he was well grounded in classical learning, and became also a remarkable proficient in mathematics. He has very frequently been heard to declare, that, from his earliest youth, he always felt the strongest predilection for the army, which his mother and nearest relations constantly^ endeavoured to dissuade him from; but, finding all their arguments ineffectual, they either bought, or he had an ensigncy given him, in general Oglethorpe’s regiment, then in Georgia; but the war being then going on in Flanders, he gave up his ensigncy, and went there as a volunteer, furnished with letters from the late marquis of Rockingham and Mr. Lascelles (afterwards lord Harewood) to the commander and several others of the officers. This step was at the time frequently taken by young men of spirit of the first rank and fortune, fte entered as a volunteer, but messed with the officers, and was very soon presented with a pair of colours. Some time after, he married a lady of good fortune and family, and, at the pressing entreaties df her friends, he most reluctantly resigned his commission; which he had no sooner done, than he felt himself miserable, and his new relations finding that his propensity to a military life was invincible, agreed to his purchasing an ensigncy in the third regiment of guards. Having now obtained the object of his most anxious wishes, he determined to lose no opportunity of qualifying himself for the highest situations in his favourite profession. With this view he paid the most unremitting attention to his duty, and every hour he could command was given up to the study of the French and German languages, in which (by the assistance of his classical learning) he soon became such a proficient as not only to understand and write both, grammatically and elegantly, but to speak them fluently. When he was a lieutenant in the guards, he translated from the French, “The Reveries; Memoirs upon the Art of War, by field-marshal count Saxe,” which was published in 1757, in 4to, and dedicated “To the general officers.” He also translated from the German, “Regulations for the Prussian cavalry,” which was also published in 1757, and dedicated to major-general the earl of Albemarle, colonel of the king’s own regiment of dragoons. And he likewise translated from the German, “llegulations for the Prussian Infantry,” to which was gelded “The Prussian Tactics,” which was published in 1759, and dedicated to lieutenant-general the earl of Rothes, colonel of the third regiment of foot guards. Having attained the situation of adjutant in the guards, his abilities and unremitting attention soon became conspicuous; and, on the late general Elliot’s being ordered to, Germany in the seven years war, he offered to take him as his aid-de-camp, which he gladly accepted, as it gave him an opportunity of gaining that knowledge which actual service could alone impart. When he served in Germany, his ardour, intrepidity, and attention to all the duties of his situation, were such, that, on the death of general Elliot, he had immediately offers both from the late prince Ferdinand, the commander in chief, and the late marquis of Granby, to be appointed aid-de-camp. By the advice of a noble earl (who hinted to him that the German war would not last for ever) he accepted the offer of the latter, after making due acknowledgements for the honour intended him by the former. In this his new situation his ardour and attention were, if possible, increased, which gained him the friendship of all those attached to lord Granby, particularly of a noble lord who, being fixed upon to bring to England the account of the battle of Warburgh, gave up his appointment to captain Fawcett; an instance of generous friendship which he always spoke of with the most heartfelt gratitude. On his arrival in England, he was introduced by the then great minister to his late majesty king George the Second, who received him most graciously, and not the less so on his giving the whole account in German. Soon after he was promoted to a company in the guards, with the rank of lieutenant-colonel in the army, and became military secretary to, and the intimate and confidential friend of lord Granby. His manners were formed with equal strength and softness; and to coolness, intrepidity, and extensive military knowledge, he added all the requisite talents of a man of business; and the most persevering assiduity, without the least ostentation. Notwithstanding the most unassuming modesty, his abilities were now so generally known, that he was fixed upon as the most proper person to manage and support the interest of his country, in settling many of the concerns of the war in Germany; and by that means necessarily became known to the great Frederic of Prussia, from whom he afterwards had the most tempting offers, which he declined without hesitation, preferring the service of his king and country to every other consideration.

, a very worthy and intelligent bookseller, and well known to men of literary curiosity for upwards of half a century, at his residence at Bungay in Suffolk, was born at Norwich, Aug. 14, 1732. He was apprenticed to a grocer, but his fondness for reading induced him, on commencing business for himself, to apportion part of his shop for the bookselling business, which at length engrossed the whole of his attention, time, and capital; and for many years he enlarged his stock so as to make it an object of importance with collectors in all parts of the kingdom, who were not more pleased with his judicious selection of copies, than the integrity with which he transacted business. About 1782 he published a catalogue of his collection of books, engraved portraits, and coins, which for interest and value exceeded at that time any other country collection? except, perhaps, that of the late Mr. Edwards of Halifax. Mr. Miller was a great reader, and possessing an excellent memory, he acquired that fund of general knowledge, particularly of literary history, which not only rendered him an instructive and entertaining companion, but gave a considerable value to his opinions of books, when consulted by his learned customers. At a period of life, when unfortunately he was too far advanced for such an undertaking, he projected a history of his native county, Suffolk, and circulated a well-written prospectus of his plan. His habits of industrious research, and natural fondness for investigating topographical antiquities, would have enabled him to render this a valuable contribution to our stock of county histories; but, independent of his age, his eye-sight failed him soon after he had made his design known, and he was obliged to relinquish it. In 1799 he became quite blind, but continued in business until his death, July 25, 1804. There is a very fine private portrait of Mr, Miller, engraved at the expence of his affectionate son, the very eminent bookseller in Albemarle-street, who lately retired from business, carrying with him the high esteem and respect of his numerous friends and brethren. In 1795, when it became a fashion among tradesmen in the country to circulate provincial half-pennies, Mr. Miller sen. had a die cast; but an accident happening to one of the blocks, when only twentythree pieces were struck off, he, like a true antiquary, declined having a fresh one made. This coin (which is very finely engraved, and bears a strong profile likeness of himself) is known to collectors by the name of “The Miller half-penny.” He was extremely careful into whose hands the impressions went; and they are now become so rare as to produce at sales from three to five guineas.

Of the family of bishop Reynolds we find mention of his son Edward, who was educated at St. Paul’s school, and a fellow of Magdalen-college, Oxford, archdeacon of Norwich, and prebendary of Worcester. He was also for forty years rector of St. Peter’s Northampton, and died in his sixty-ninth year, June 28, 1698. He was buried in Kingsthorpe chqrch, near Northampton, where is a monument and inscription to his memory. Dr. Knight says, he was “a very able and judicious divine, and a very worthy son of so good a father.” Some notices of two of the bishop’s descendants may be found in Cumberland’s life.

, a very worthy, benevolent, and learned citizen of London, was born in the parish of St. Saviour’s, Southwark, March 2, 1732. His father was a tradesman, residing in that parish, and his mother was sister of the rev. Samuel Home, rector of Otham, near Maidstone, in Kent, and aunt of the late excellent Dr. Home, bishop of Norwich. His father died when he was in his infancy, and being educated with his cousin, George Home, an attachment, from similarity of disposition, commenced between them, which led to the same studies in their future lives, although their destinations were so different. When little more than fifteen, Mr. Home was sent to Oxford, and Mr. Stevens, at the same period, being only fourteen, in August 1746, was placed as an apprentice with Mr. Hookham, No. 68, Old Broad-street, au eminent wholesale hosier, and in this house he lived and died. The cousins now communicated by correspondence, in which Mr. Home informed his friend of the studies in which he was engaged, wi.ile Mr. Stevens spent all his leisure time in acquiring, by his own labour and industry, that knowledge which the young academician was amassing under belter auspices. By such means Mr. Stevens acquired, not only an intimate acquaintance with the French language, but also a considerable knowledge of Latin, Greek,

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