li~-C ^ c<^^>4 e ^^/' ' / / / l/ y y/li//''/M^MM/u/ /£^mj^///{\. l^fj LKGISLATORS L AW^TER S STATESMAN ASTROKOAIERS PATRIOTS PO£X S W4RRIOR.S PAINTKRS PHUJINTHROI'ISXS SCULPTORS DriTsriis TRA\-ELLERS iC. TcDlL. MIL r r^^^OtibmC John Cumbei'lancl . li), j . u d.on re Hill 1 a ^j 8. CUMBERLAND'S LIVES AND PORTRAITS public C^arsrters. CONTENTS OF VOL. III. Rev. Mr. Prince The Duke of Kent James Watt, Esq. Alexander Pope Oliver Goldsmith The Duke of Sussex Dr. Johnson Queen Elizabeth Thomas Dermody Dr. Herschel Louis XVIII. Michael Drayton Sir Isaac Newton Laurence Sterne Voltaire Cardinal Wolsey The Marquis of Worcester Thomas Gray Frederick Duke of York Henry Kirke White George Frederick Handel Sir J. Mackintosh Edward Alleyn William Shenstone Villiers D.of Buckingham Sir Walter Ralegh Captain Cook William Hogarth Vol. III.— 1. HEl/^ JTOMH FH2NCE. THE REV. JOHN PRINCE. IT has been very generally acknowledged, that althoogh mankind be astonished by the perusal of the lives of heroes and of kings, it is, in the mass, little benefited by the record of what are commonly denominated great actions ; and it is a doabt if a stronger interest be excited by an attention to them than by the unaftected narrative of the events which have attended the steps of those whose lot it has been to tread in a more beaten path. Few are born to wear a crown, and fewer to receive the laurel on their brows, and to have their names registered in the somewhat imperishable annals of fame ; but mil- lions pass their days in toil, both corporeal and mental, for their subsistence, or in the more quiet pursuit of literary enjoyments or tasteful occupations, and have yet all the temptations to err, and the difficulties to encounter, which beset those on whose conduct even nations depend. John Prince, the subject of this memoir, was born of respectable, though not wealthy, parents, in Al- dersgate-street, London, 1753, where bis father car- ried on the business of a lapidary, a trade now well nigh extinct. Being a boy of bright parts, it was resolved that he should be brought up to a profession, and a friend having oftered Mr. Prince a presentation for the grammar-school of Christ Church, he accepted it for his son, and accordingly sent him thither about 1760 ; from which he passed with great credit to Oriel College, Oxford, in 1772. He took holy orders in 1775, being ordained deacon by the celebrated and excellent Bishop Lowth, who, on that occasion, passed many encomiums on his reading, the justice' of which will be admitted by all who have since heard Mr. Prince officiate in the desk of the Magdalen Chapel . 59. REV. JOHN PRINCE. While on tlie subject of Mr. Prince's reading, we must not omit the testimony of David Garrick, whom Johnson allows to have been the most judicious speaker of his day, and who one day at Mr. Whalley's house made trial of his powers, to the great admiration of Mr. Townley, author of " High Life below stairs,"' who was of the party. Garrick, in return for our young divine's acquiescence, displayed his own inimitable powers ; and practised before him his celebrated scene of the mother dropping her child from the window ; in which the tran- sition from a face of ghastly horror on missing tlie infant, to a countenance of extreme and almost supernatural joy, on perceiving the babe in safety, from its clothes having been caught by a projecting nail in the wall, was allowed by all who ever witnessed the exhibition, to be most surprising. On quitting the University, Mr. Prince took the curacy of the united parishes of St. V^edast, Foster, and St. Michael le Quern, London, the rector being Mr. Francis Wollaston, afterwards notorious for his opposition to clerical subscription to the thirty-nine articles, at the Feathers Tavern. Two men more opposite in opinion on matters of church discipline could not have come in collision ; yet were the sentiments of our divine so truly liberal, in the best sense of the term, that not the slightest disagreement ever took place between the parties, but, on the contrary, Mr. Wollaston's esteem for Mr. Prince was much enhanced during their long acquaintance. That gentleman, in his own life, thus alludes to Mr. Prince. On finding his curacy vacant, he observes, he rejoiced more especially " because it made an opening to Mr. Prince, than whom he could not have had an assistant more completely to his mind, and whom he was sorry to lose, when, after ten years diligent attention to the parishes, he could not but bear due testimony to his merit on his being proposed for the chaplaincy of the Magdalen Hospital, to which he has indeed since proved himself a treasure." On the death of Mr. Dobie, the chaplain of the Mag- REV. JOHN PRINCE. ilalen, in 1789, Mr. Prince was unanimously elected tfj the vacant oflice ; and Mr. Winterbottom, the Secretary, deceasing in a few years after that period, that post was added to the chaplaincy. In 1784 he had been instituted to the vicarage of Grays Thurrock, Essex, by his friend and relation, John Button, Esq ; but this he resigned on being appointed to Enford, Wilts, by the governors of Christ Church, in 1793, which last benefice had formerly been in tlie possession and gift of a branch of his own family. It would be inconsistent with the limits of our little work, and wholly unnecessary with such readers as may know the subject of this memoir (and there are few resi- dent in London who have not that gratification), to expa- tiate on the good that has been done by this estimable man in that station of life (and more especially in the scene of his London duties) in which it has pleased Providence to place him. The Magdalen Charity has indeed cause to boast of his paternal and unremitting services ; and numerous are the hearts which, in every prayer to heaven, mingle the remembrance of him who first drew them from the dominion of vice, and encou- raged t?hem in the great work of repentance. We may indeed say of him with the poet — At his controul. Despair and anguish fled the struggling soul. And comfort came the trembling wretch to raise. At Enford, Mr. Prince, in the year 1800, established a sunday-school ; and the charch having been destroyed by a thunder-storm in 1817', he has, with a degree of public spirit that reflects great credit upon him as a minister of the established church, raised a private subscription among his friends for the purpose of re- building the edifice, of which the first stone will be laid, it is expected, in the present year, under the direction of Philip Hardwick, Esq. Mr. Prince, for some years, held the olfice of librarian REV. JOHN PRINCE. to Sion College, the great divinity coUectiou of works in tlie metropolis ; and it may not be here inappropriate to introduce an anecdote of him relative to that institution. On the late king's recovery from his dangerous illness, in the year 1789, the directors were at a loss what device or motto to select, in illuminating the building ; when the subject of our memoir made the following happy selection from the Book of Psalms : " Sionheard of it and rejoiced." As an author, Mr. Prince has only ventured forth some single sermons, though, in the early part of his life, he was a frequent contributor to the Anti-Jacobin Review, and other periodical works. He also edited the " Gradus ad Parnassnm," and his edition, in which are several examples of his own composition, has been considered by far the most correct, and has accordingly been adopted by both the English and Scotch Universi- ties. He took great pains to collect matter for a life of Bishop Jewel, but never published the result of his labours ; and he restored, at his own expence, the inscrip- tion on the monument of that prelate in Salisbury Cathe- dral. He also carried through the press an edition of the works of Bishop Home, and of Jones of Nayland, with both of whom he had been well acquainted. It would be impossible to enumerate in this brief sketch the distinguished persons with whom it has been the lot of our divine, at various periods of his life, t& fall into friendship ; but if any one be mentioned, it must be Peter Waldo, Esq. of Mitcham, the excellent author of the Commentary on the Liturgy, with whom he formed a close intimacy and a most affectionate acquaintance, which only ceased with the life of Mr. Waldo, and whose works he has published. William Stevens, Esq. the celebrated Hebraist and theologian, (whose life has been written by Judge Park) was his frequent companion : and when he founded " Nobody's Club," Mr. Prince was chosen its chaplain. This was in 1800 ; and though the venerable bead be no more, the association still exists under the title of " Nobody's Friends," and includes some of the first personages in the church and law among its REV. JOHN PRINCE. members. The late Lord Chief Baron Richards sacceeded his friend the Founder in the chair : and the subject of this memoir is still the chaplain. Mr. Prince married, in 1778, Miss Gray, a Shropshire ladj, by whom he has had several children, one of whom, Thomas, was educated at Wadham College, Oxford, of which he is a fellow, and where he has taken the degree of Doctor of Divinity. He was preceptor to the present Duke of Brunswick and his brother, and is now chaplain to the British Residents at Brussels. He is author of" Lectures on the Beatitudes," and of several single sermons. Mr. Prince, in the late king's time, used to frequent the concerts at the Hanover Rooms, then so constantly patronised by the royal family ; and his critiques on those musical celebrations, and on the oratorios of that day, appeared in all the public prints, and were generally applauded by the Handel School. Indeed his love of music, especially of the old masters, has never forsaken liim, and has frequently been a source of great gratifica- tion to his friends. We could relate various anecdotes of the amiable subject of this memoir ; of his piety, his benevolent heart, his charitable and christian spirit, his humane disposition, his happy temper, his mild manners, his eloquence in the pulpit, his attachment to his friends, his kindness to all ; but we have room only for one, which will shew that the seeds which have produced all this goodly fruit, were early sown, and have been duly tended from their first spring to their maturity. A relation, who had retired from business with a handsome property when our divine had just entered the church, being anxious to serve him, proposed to him to purchase for him the advowson of a living, then become vacant, upon the proviso, that half the revenue of the benefice (which was a very excellent one) should be appropriated by the purchaser. To this Mr. Prince at once objected as a simoniacal contract, and in direct violation of his ordination vow. Such a refusal, coming REV . JOHN PRINCE. from a man so yoang, and whose prospect of rising in lils profession was by no means flattering, cannot be too highly appreciated; and all whose happiness it has been to know Mr. Prince, will admit, that he would thus nobly and disinterestedly have conducted himself at any period of his life. Mww.Amn jmnmm of mi '. jf (fe^. ^' Svorpe S^riJiCton.. 3 OldJiaiiey. EDWARD AUGUSTUS DUKE OF KENT, K. G. G. C. B. K. S. P. &c. &c. &c. HIS Rojal Highness, fourth son of George III. was born Movember 2, 1767. At the age of seventeen, he was sent to the Continent to complete his education ; and his first abode was at Lunenburg, where he remained nearly a twelve-month. Thence he removed to Hanover, where he continued till the month of October, 1787, in the command of the Guards of the Electorate, in which corps he was appointed Colonel on the 30th of May, 1786. He next proceeded to Geneva, and during the period of his staj there, he was appointed (April, 1789) Colonel of the 7th Foot, or Royal Fusileers. Early in 1790, His Royal Highness returned to England. Ten days were scarcely allowed the Prince to remain with his illustrious family, when, in obedience to tha commands of his royal father, he proceeded to Gibraltar. His Royal Highness remained on the Rock till June, 1791, when he sailed with his corps for Quebec, the capital of Canada. In October, 1793, Prince Edward attained the rank of Major General ; and, in the December following, had orders to join the late Earl, then Sir C. Grey, who was on the point of proceeding to attack the French West India settlements. His Royal Highness arrived just at the commencement of the seige of Fort Bourbon in the Island of Martinique ; and, as a compliment to the gallantry he displayed on that occasion, the lower Fort, then called Fort-royal, has subsequently been aamed Fort Edward. DUKE OF KEM. His Royal Highness was then placed in Ihe command of the detached camp of La Coste, and had under his orders the late gallant General, Thomas Dandas. During the seige, the Prince's soldier-like and spirited conduct, was the admiration of the whole army, and, at the storm- ing of Fort-royal, as well as the attack in the month of March, his life, was frequently exposed to the most eminent peril. One of his Aides-de-camp, Captain, now Lieutenant-General Wetherall, was severely wounded while executing the orders of the Prince. After the capture of Martinique, the Kritish army proceeded to St. Lucia, where his Royal Highness was again entrusted with the command of the grenadier bri- gade, which, in conjunction with that of the Light Infao- try, under General Dundas, formed the storming party, and carried Morne Fortunee, since named Fort Charlotte. The army next moved to Gaudaloupe, where his Royal Highness, in conjunction with General Dundas, snc- ceeded in occupying several of the enemy's posts. Upon the reduction of the French islands in this quarter, his Royal Highness, whose health was considerably impaired by fatigue, and the usual effects of the climate, received orders to return to North America ; and shortly after his arrival at Halifax, he was appointed Commander of the Forces in Nova Scotia and its dependencies. On the 12th of January, 1796, His Royal Highness was promoted to the rank of Lieutenant-General. In consequence of a severe injury he received in his left thigh, from a horse, which fell under, and rolled over him, his Royal Highness, in compliance with the advice and wishes of his friends, returned to England for surgi- cal assistance, where, on his arrival, he was greeted with the most flattering marks of attention for his conduct abroad. In April, 1799, having then attained his thirty-second year, bis Royal Highness was called to the House of Peers, (ten lears after the Duke of Clarence, who was only two years his senior, had attained the same distinc- tion) by the style and titles of Duke of Kent and Strath- DUKE or KENT. earn in Great Britain, and Earl of Dablin in Ireland. }n May of the same year, his health being re-established, the Duke of Kent was appointed General and Commander- in-Chief of all the Forces in British North America, to which country he sailed soon after. His horses, equi- page, &c. were embarked, on his leaving England, on board a transport, which the government had expressly provided for that purpose ; and owing to the tempestaous weather, it was wrecked on State Island, and all on board perished. The loss of this transport was of the utmost magnitude to his Royal Highness. It contained his library', maps, papers, wines, furniture, carriages, horses, and every equipment necessary. Although it is usual in such cases of loss or service, for the country to reimburse the losers, his Royal Highness never could obtain any remuneration. The intense application of the Duke of Kent to tbe various duties of his high command, so materially injured his health, that in the course of a twelve-month, he was under the necessity of soliciting permission to pass the ensuing winter in England. As a public testimony to Lis Royal Highness's conduct in North America, the Legislative Assembly unanimously voted live hundred guineas, for the purchase of a diamond star, to be presented to the Duke of Kent, as a mark of tiieir affection, and their respect for his person and character. His Royal Highness arrived in England in August, 1800. On the 24th of which month, he was appointed to the Colonelcy of the Royal Scots Regiment of Infantry (the 1st.); and, in 1803, Governor of Gibraltar, where he arrived on the 10th of May in that year. When the Duke assumed his command, he devoted all the energies of his mind to the duties of the important trust reposed in him ; his Royal Highness observed with sad regret, the slovenliness of the privates of the army — the total absence of uniformity in their dress and appointments — the inaccuracy of their movements — and the frequency of drunkenness among the troops : he soon found that the caase of such insubordination, was the wine-houses that bUKK OE IvliNT. were in the vicinity of the barracks ; and be removed all ihese, only retaining such as v/ere in tbe public streets. He required the presence and sobriety of every man at meal-hours ; and a report, after second evening gun, of every man being present in the barracks : he established a roll-call at sun-rise, a dress parade in the middle of the day, and one in undress at sun-set ; and in a short period of time, the garrison of Gibraltar became a pattern for discipline, sobriety, and every other quality which constitutes the perfection of the military character. Unfortunately the suppression of the wine-houses created the Duke many enemies, and they were joined by some of tlie troops, and the consequence was, that on the 24th of December, 1802, a mutiny took place, which was soon quelled, as was also a tumult two days afterwards, between the Royal Scots (the Duke's own regiment) ami the 25lh Foot. Misrepresentations of the ferments and the general orders of the Duke were sent to this country, and he was re-called. On the 5th of September, 1805, his Royal Highness was promoted to the rank of Field Marshal. Here ends then his military-life ; a far nobler and better career was now to commence. It would occupy more room than we have to spare in this brief memoir, to point out the great advantages he conferred on this country, by his large and benevolent views, and indefatigable exertions to amend the condition of the poorer classes. The poor and unfortunate, never had, possibly never will have, so zealous, so munificent, so active, or so universal, a patron and benefactor as the late Duke of Kent. In fine, it may be safely said, that no individual of his exalted rank ever set a higher example of public virtue, or displayed more constancy, wisdom, and zeal, for the protection, education, maintenance, and relief, of the poor of these realms, than, in the course of his but too short life, did his Royal Highness. In 1806, during the absence of the Duke of Kent, a meeting was held in London, at which it was unanimously DUKE OF KENT. resolved to annually celebrate the natal daj of so illustrious a character as his Rojal Highness ; and on the 2d of November of the same year, the first meeting took place. On the 29th of May, 1818, his Royal Highness was united in marriage, at Cobourg, with her Serene Highness Victoria Maria Louisa, youngest daughter of Francis Frederic Anthony, reigning Duke of Saxe Cobourg, of Saalfield, and sister to Prince Leopold; which marriage was again solemnized at Kew, on the 11th of the follow- ing July. The issue of this marriage was a daughter, named Alexandrina Victoria, Avho was born at Kensington-palace on the 24th of May, 1819. His Royal Highness at the latter end of the year 1819, retired with his family to Sidmouth in Devonshiie; and having caught cold from sitting in wet boots, he un- fortunately neglected it; this brought on an inflamation of the lungs, which complaint suddenly terminated his valuable life, on Sunday morning, January 23, 1820. His Royal Highness was tall in stature, of a manly and noble presence. His manners were afiable, condescend- ing, dignified, and engaging; bis conversation animated ; his information varied and copious ; his memory exact and retentive ; he resembled the King his father, in many of his tastes and propensities ; he was an early riser ; a strict economist of his time ; temperate in eating ; indifferent to •wine, though a lover of society ; a kind master, a punctual and courteous correspondent, a steady friend, and an af- fectionate brother. The death of the Duke of Kent caused an unfeigned sorrow all over the nation ; and the mourning was general. The remains of his Royal highness were deposited in St. George's Chapel, Windsor. The procession marched slowly up the center aisle, and every part of it was im- posing and well arranged. The Duke of York as chief mourner, sat at the head of the corpse, his supporters on either side, and the bearers of the canopy. The closing style and titles of the lamented Prince were proclaimed in form by Sir Isaac Heard. DUKE OF KENT. Soon after the decease of the Duke of Kent, a meeting was called, to consider of the expediency of raising a Subscription for defraying the expenses of a Statue as a tribute to his public and private virtues : in a short time, a sufficiency was collected. Mr. Gahagan was chosen as the artist ; and in January, 1824, it was erected in Park Crescent, Portland Place. The statue is seven feet two inches high, is executed in bronze, and weighs two tons. It represents his Royal Highness arrayed in a full dress Field Marshal's uniform, and over it his ducal dress and collar of the garter : the pedestal is composed of granite from the Hey tor Quarries, in Devon- shire, in three parts ; the plinth is formed of two stones of the Heytor granite, seven feet six inches square, and two feet one inch thick ; each stone weighing about five tons. The shaft, which is of one solid stone, weighs upwards of seven tons ; it is fo\ir feet ten inches square, and three feet one inch high. The cap on which the statue rests, is five feel five inches square, and one foot five inches thick. It is of one stone, and weighs three tons. j&^ IE S^<^^JD)JE K. IP® ]P]S . ALEXANDER POPE, WAS born in Lombard Street, London, on tbe 22d of May, 1688 ; his father who was a Linen-draper in the Strand, and grew rich bj trade, was, according to Pope's account, who it has been observed, was more willing to shew what his father was not, than what he was, of a family of which the Earl of Doune was tlie head ; and his mother was the daughter of William Turner, Esq* of York. Both parents were papists. Pope was, from his birth, of a constitution tender and delicate ; but is said to have shewn remarkable sweetness of disposition. His weakness was so great, that he certainly wore stays. His voice, when he was young, was so pleasing, that he was called in fondness, " the little Nightingale." Being not early sent to school, he was taught to read by an aunt ; and when he was seven or eight years of age became a lover of books, and took a great delight in drawing ; and afterwards, having had masters for that purpose, soon made a tolerable good progress. When he was about eight, he was placed in Hamp; shire, under Taverner, a Romish priest, who, by a method very rarely practised, taught him the Latin and Greek rudiments together. From the care of Taverner, under whom his proficiency was considerable, he was removed to a school at Twyford, near Winchester, and again to another school near Hyde Park Corner; from which he used sometimes to stroll to the play-house; and was so delighted at theatrical exhibitions, that he formed a kind of play from " Ogilby's Iliad," with some verses of his own intermixed, which he persuaded his school- fellows to act, with the addition of his master's gardener, who personated Ajax. 63. ALEXA>DER POPE. About the time of the Revolution, his father quitted his trade, and retired to Biiifield in Windsor Forest, with a fortune of about £20,000, whither Pope was called when he was about 12 years old ; and there he had for a few months the assistance of one Deane, another priest, of whom he learnt onlj to construe a little of " Tullj's OfBces." In his perusal of the English Poets, he soon distin- guished the versification of Dryden, which he considered as the model to be studied, and was impressed with such veneration for his instructor, that he persuaded some friends to take him to the coffee-house frequented by Dryden, and pleased himself with having seen him. The earliest of Pope's productions is his " Ode on Solitude," written before he was twelve, in which there is nothing more than other forward boys have attained, and which is not equal to Cowley's performances at the same age. His time was now wholly spent in readin'^ and writing. As he read the Classics, he amused himself with trans- lating them ; and at fourteen, made a version of the first book of the '* Thebais," which, with some revision, he afterwards published. Next year he was desirous of opening to himself new sources of knowledge, by making himself master of the French and Italian languages, which, as he desired nothing more than to read them, were by diligent appli- cation easily accomplished. He then returned to Binfield, where he tried all styles, and many subjects. He wrote a comedy, a tragedy, an epick poem, with panegyricks on all the princes in Europe; and, as he confesses, ** thought himself the greatest genius that ever was." Self-confidence is the first requisite to great undertakings, and, it was the felicity of Pope to rate himself at his real value. From the age of seventeen, the life of Pope, as an author, may be properly computed. He now wrote his pastorals, which were shewn to the poets and criticks of that time, and as they \YeIl deserved, were read with th« ALEXANDER POPK. greatest admiration. They were not, however, publittbed till five years afterwards. Pope had now declared him- self a poet ; and tbinkin|r himself entitled to poetical conversation, began, at seventeen, to frequent "Will's, a c-oftee-house, on the north side of Russell Street, Covent Garden, where the wits of that time used to assemble, and where Dryden had, when he lived, been accustomed to preside. In 1709, was written his " Essay on Criticism," a work which displays such extent of comprehensiou, such nicety of distinction, such acquaintance with mankind, and such knowledge both of ancient and modern learning as are not often attained by the maturest age and longest experience. Not long after this period, be produced the " Rape of the Lock," the most airy, the most ingenious, and the roost delightful of all his compositions, occasioned by a frolic of gallantry, rather too familiar, in which Lord Petre cut oif a lock of Mrs. Arabella Fermor's hair. This, whether stealth or violence, was so much resented, that the commerce of the two families before very friendly, was interrupted. At its first appearance it was termed by Addison " merum sal." Pope, however saw that it was capable of improvement, and imparted the scheme with which hii head was teeming to Addison, who told liim that his work, as it stood, was " a delicious little tiling," and gave him no encouragement to re-touch it. Addison's counsel was happily rejected, and the " Rape of the Lock," stands forward in the classes of literature, as the most exquisite example of ludicrous poetry. In the year 1713, he published •• Windsor Forest," of which part was written at sixteen, about the same time as his Pastorals, and the latter part was added afterwards. It is dedicated to Lord Lansdowne, who was then high in reputation and influence among the Tories ; and it is said, that the conclusion of the poem gave great pain to Addison both as a poet and a politician. It appears that about this time Pope had a strong in- clination to unite the art of Painting with that of Poetry, ALEXANDER POPli and pat himself under the tuition of Jervas. He was near sighted, and therefore not formed by nature for a painter: be tried, however, how far he could advance, and some- times persuaded his friends to sit. A picture of Better- tow, supposed to be drawn by him, was in the possession of Lord Mansfield, at Caen Wood. The same year pro- duced a bolder attempt, by which profit was sought as well as praise. The poems which he had hitherto written, however they might have diffiused his name, had made very little addition to his fortune. He therefore resolved to try how far the favour of the public extended, by soli- citing a subscription, to a version of the " Iliad" with large notes. The greatness of the design, the popularity of the author, and the attention of the literary world, naturally raised such expectations of the future sale, that the book-sellers made their offers with great eagerness i but the highest bidder was Bernard Lintot, who became proprietor on condition of supplying at his own expense all the copies which were to be delivered to subscribers, or presented to friends, and paying two hundred pounds for every volume. Pope having now emitted his proposals, and engaged not only his own reputation but in some measure that of his friends, who patronised his subscription, began to be frightened at his own undertaking : and finding himtelf at first embarrassed with difficulties, which retarded and op- pressed him, he was for a time timorous and uneasy, had his nights disturbed by dreams of long journeys through unknown ways, and wished, as he said, " that somebody would hang him." His misery, however, was not of long continuance : he grew by degrees more acquainted with Homer's ways and expressions, practice increased his facility of versification, and, in somewhat more than five years he completed his version of the " Iliad," with the notes. He began it in 1713, his twenty-fifth year, and concluded it in 1718, his thirtieth year. By the success of this subscription Pope was relieved from tijose pecuniary distresses, with which, notwiih&tand- ing bit popalarity, he had hitherto struggled, and having too much discretion to sqnander it away, he secured hiit future life from want, by considerable annuties. The " Iliad'' is certainly the uoblt st version pf poetry which the world has ever seen, and it.s publication must be con-r «idered as one of the great events in the annals of learning. In the year 1715, having persuaded his father to sell their estate at Binfield, he purchased for his life a bouse at Twickenham, and removed thither with his far tber and mother. In 1717, his father died suddenly in bis 75th year* baring passed twenty-nine years in privacy. The publication of the " Iliad" was completed in 1720, and the next year he published some select poems, of his friend Dr. Parnell, with a very elegant dedication to the flarl of Oxford. Scon after the appearance of the " Iliad," resolving not to let the general kindness cool, he published proposals for a Translation of the Odyssey, in five volumes, which he finished in 1725. In the year 1728 he showed his satirical powers by publishing the " Dunciad," one of his greatest and most elaborate works. In the year 1731, appeared a poem on " Taste," in which he severely criticises the house, furniture, gardens and entertainments of Timon, a man of great wealth and little taste : By Timon he was universally supposed to mean, and by the Earl of Burlington, to whom the poem is addressed, was privately said to mean the Duke of Chan- dos : a man too much delighted with pomp and show, of a temper kind and beneficent. In the following year he lost his mother. The filial piety of Pope was in thehiohest degree amiable and exemplary. Whatever was his pride, to them he was obedient, and whatever his irritation, to them he was gentle. In the year 1733 was published the first part of the ♦* Essay on Man," which he wrote at Lord Bolingbroke's, Battersea : finding his diseases more oppressive and his fital powers gradually declining, he no longer strained ALEXANBER POPt. bis faculties with any original composition, nor proposed any other employment for his remaining life than the reri- sal and correction of bis former works. He now perceived himself, as he expresses it, " going down the hill." He had for five years been afflicted with an asthma, and other diseases which his physicians were unable to relieve. In May 1744, his death was approaching, and on the 6th he was all day delirious, which he mentioned as a suffici- ent hnrailiation of the vanity of man ; he afterwards com- plained of seeing things as through a curtain, and in false colours ; and one day, in the presence of Dodsley, asked what arm it was that came out from the wall. He said that his greatest inconvenience was inability to think. He died on the evening of the thirtieth day of May, 1744, so placidly, that the attendants did not discern the exact time of his death. He was buried at Twickenham, near bis father and mother, where a monument has been «rected to him by his commentator, the Bishop of Gioacester. JAMES WATT ESQ® JAMES WATT, ESQ. F. R. S. Was born at Greenock, in Scotland, A. D. 1735, where be was carefully educated ; but having completed [I'm grammatical studies and other important branches of education, he was at sixteen apprenticed to learn the art of an Instrument Maker, which consisted in the manufac- ture and repair of instruments used in philosophical and mechanical experiments, surgery, music, &c. ; an art then confined to a limited sphere, and little encouraged. Having completed the period of his probation, he repaired to London, with anticipations both of improvement and employment; but after a lapse of little more than a year, he again sought his native country, where, on his ariival, he added measuring and surveying land to his former occupations. These, together, enabled him not only to live respectably, but likewise to pursue a course of mechanical experiments, which had previously been en- gendered in his prolific mind. It was now a fortunate incident gave that direction to the inventive powers of Watt, in which his provident imagination afterwards accomplished so much, and laid the foundation of his future fame. The model of Newcomen's steam engine, used in his lectures by the professor of natural philosophy at the University of Glasgow, was sent to Watt to be repaired ; penetrating instantaneously into the future, be perceived the capability of its improvement, and the great advantages to be derived from its general appli- cation to machinery ; and although he continued to pur- sue his trade, it being his only source of subsistence, his genius ill brooked this restraint, but bent its whole force on his favourite subject, the improvement of the steam engine. This engine had bow been in use more 64. JAMES ^VATT, ESQ. than half a century, but very little had as yet been done to perfect it. The first improvement which occurred to "Watt, was the adoption of a tcocden cylinder instead of a metal one ; and to this he was led by observing tliat tbe jet of cold water conveyed into the piston, in order to condense the steam, cooled it to such a degree, that the steam introduced for the following stroke was wasted in restoring the heat ; till this was remedied, it could not exert its entire powers. Many physical difiicullies made him abandon his first idea for a more fortunate one — that of passing the steam into a separate condensing vessel, and thereby never cooling the cylinder. Necessity made him defer the application of his discovery ; united at this period to an amiable companion, without fortune, his first concern was the means of subsistence. His friends, however, appreciated his invention, an>ongst whom was Dr. Roebuck, a gentleman possessing an enlightened understanding, as well as some property. He it was who associated himself with Watt, at this critical mo- ment, in order to further his discovery, and to bring it to perfection. But their means soon exhausted, it was again on the eve of being abandoned, when, in 1773, Mr. Boulton, a gentleman of ample fortune, and very considerable proficiency in the sciences, became ac- quainted with, and saw the advantages of the invention. He liberally reimbursed Dr. Roebuck, and having pre- viously erected a manufactory at Soho, near Birmingham, at a cost of £20,000, he took Mr. Watt with him to reside at that place, whose wife, having borne him two children, was then deceased. Watt was now possessed of leisure and means to realize any invention he might already be master of, or, by the exertion of his genius, bring to light. He found the advantage of condensing the steam under the piston in another vessel, but when the piston descended, he imagined the cylinder to be still cooled. His next important improvement was, to shut the top of the cylinder, and instead of pressing the piston down by the weight of the atmosphere, he applied the force of steam, and restored the equilibrivm, by JAMES WATT, ESQ. Opening a conimunioation between the upper and lower side ot the piston. All that was afterwards accomplished by means of the reciprocating steam etiginut was only to acquire perfection and easy management ; but there was no departure from the iirst principle, nor did he ever ro- prietors of mines, on the most advantageous terms. Ex- periments were made by men in whom all parties could confide, with Newcomen's old engine, and Watt's im- proved one, in order to ascertain ihe value of the coals saved by the latter. This was done by placing- a counter over the top of the beam or leaver, to tell the number of strokes ; and then estimating according to the size of the cylinder. They were to receive but one-third of the coals saved; but the great obstacle to the introduction of their engine was, the incurring a fresh expense. This they removed by taking the old in exchange, at a con- siderable loss, and giving credit for the rest till the advantage was felt. By the adoption of these liberal means, they removed every difficulty ; but it was not till the year 1778, that their engine began to be appre- ciated. In 1779 Watt invented a method of copying letters, which has been pretty generally adopted. In 1789, the Perriers, of Paris, applied to Messrs. Eoulton and Watt for an improved steam engine, for the purpose of supplying that city with water. It was made at Birmingham, and sent to Chaillot to be put together, where it still remains. This circumstance the French have been at sume pains to conceal ; and M. Riche de JXME-; WATT, Esa. Prone^, an eminent mathematician, and chief of the schooi for roads and bridges in that country, ingetiiouslj con- trived to fdl the pages of a quarto volume with a des- cription of the improved steam engine, invented bjr our countryman, Watt, vyithout once naming him ; hut the French will find it dilTicult to get any other nation, besides themselves, to wink at such injustice. The steam engine, as invented by >.'ewcomen, and improved by Watt, had hitherto been employed only as a reciprocating power, for drawing water; but the genius of Watt did not per- mit him to stop tiiere, he was for converting the recipro- cating power into a rotative one, and thereby to render it of more general ntility. To this end, various inventions were resorted to ; but it did not occur to him, so ready is genius to imagine and encounter difficulties, that the simple method of a crank, as used in the turning of the old spinninnf wheel, might supply what he wanted to discover. He indeed meant to employ tlie crank, but wanted to make a further improvement by introducing a second axle, with a fly-wheel and heavy side, which should revolve twice daring the time tliat the engine made one stroke ; intending that the heavy side, when the piston was at the top, should be in the act of descend- ing ; not considering, that the heavy fly was a reservoir to preserve regular motion in the Hiachine. Watt, which had been his usual custom from his first residence at Birmingham, gave directions for a model to be made according to this improvement, but as he never allowed a new invention to interrupt the progress of one reduced to actual practice, the consequence was, that which might have been brought to light in one, was eight months in hand ; and, in the interim, a workman employed on the model communicated the invention to a Mr. Rickard, who was unprincipled enough to take out a patent for it ; and, worked by one of Newcomen's engines but with the addition of this last discovery, a corn-mill was going on ■within a quarter of a mile of Watt, ere his model was completed. The above circumstances being ascertained by him, though he might easily have set aside the patent JAMES WATT, ESQ. obtained hy Mr. Rickard, neither he nor iiis partner being fond of legal remedies, he chose to seek one in his own brain. The only part of tlie last invention of any moment, and for which a snbstitute was absolutely necessary, was the crank \ and here, with snnie eiipense, and a little ingenuity, he succeeded so well, that it i& doubtful whetiier his substitute is not quite equal to the crank. This invention of the rotative motion hy Watt, not only prevented the shock at the beginning and end of every stroke, by equalizing the motion, but rendered steam tlie most maiiageable, as well as the most useful of ail powers, since it might be supplied of any power suited to the uses for which it might be required. Watt's last great iirifrovement, which perfected his invention of the rotative motion, was to give the power which com- municated the rotative motion, and moved in a portion of the circumference of a circle, an accurately perpendicu-' lar direction. This was not too great for the astonish- ingly pregnant imagination of Watt to accomplish ; and he is said to have declared, that by what train of ideas he compassed this admirable invention, he himself was unable to communicate, so spontaneous were the powers of his genius. With this last invention terminated the most important of his labours. Soon after he settle;! at Birmingham, he married a second wife, a Miss M'Gregor, of Glasgow, a lady of considerable attainments, with whom he enjoyed a long and well-spent life of conjugal happiness, She bore him several children, but none of them are now surviving. Having passed his 70th year, about which period, his partner, Mr. Boulton, died, he retired into private life, leaving tlie business to his own, only surviving, and Mr. Boulton's son, by whom the steam-engine manufactory is still conducted. Having arrived at his 84th year, he sunk into the arms of his Maker, (at his house at Heathfield, near Birmingham, August the 25th, 1B19,) leaving behind him a name as imperishable as the universe, and a reputation which defies detraction. His genius was recognized by the Royal Societies of London and Edinburgh, of both of JAMES WATT, ESQ. xv-bicli lie was made a member ; nor let be forgotten, that iu 1808, when England and France were waf;ing; war with uncommon inveteracy, like Sir Humphrey Davy, he received the same honour from the National lostitute of France. A meeting was held at the Freemason's Tavern, London, on the 18lh of June, 1824, for the purpose of commencing a public subscription to defray the expenses of a monument to the memory of Mr. Watt. Lord Liverpool was in the chair, and a considerable sum was instantly collected : a similar meeting has been held in Manchester, in aid of the London Fnnd ; and, in Edin- burgh also, a subscription is set on foot for a monument to be erected in Scotland ; but as Mr. Cockburn, with whom the idea originated, very properly observed at the meeting : " I am clear that we should have an open daylight monument to the memory of Mr. Watt, which can be explored by all — that their hearts may be stirred, and their ambition excited, by the contemplation of such a tribute. The man whose mind I wish most to awaken is that of the operative mechanic, who should be able to view this structure as he is walking along the streets, in the dress and with the implements of his calling." The subcription in London would have been much larger, had it been resolved to erect the monument in some public situation, instead of its intended situation — Westminster Abbey ; where, if you want to see it, you must pay! " They order these matters better in France." •ILETIEK. 'S-OILIOSMETJ ns'iedjtiff;SSJ$24i:/ (?e.vge Smefton 3.0ldSat7c} OLIVER GOLDSMITH, M. B. Son of the Rev. Charles Goldsmith, was born in Elpbiil» in the county of RoscorBraon, in Ireland, iu the year 1729. His father had four sons, of whom Oliver was the third. After being well instructed in the classics at the school of Mr. Hughes, he was admitted a sizer in Trinity College, on the 11th of June, 1744. While resident there he exhibited no signs of that genius which, in niaturer years, raised his character so high. On the 27th of February, 1749, O. S. he obtained the degree of Bachelor of Arts. Soon after, he turned his thoughts to the profession of Physic, and studied in London and Edinburgh : while in the latter city, his good nature involved him in difBculties, by becoming security for one of bis fellow-students for a considerable sum of money, which obliged him to leave it : he proceeded to Sunderland, near Mewcastle, where he arrived in the year 1754, and was arrested by one Barclay, a tailor in Edinburgh, to whom he had given security for his friend. By the goodness of two of his fellow collegians, he was liberated from the bands of the bailiff, and took his passage on board a Dutch ship for Rotterdam, where, after a short stay, he proceeded to Brussels. He then visited a great part of Flanders ; and after passing some time at Strasbourg and Louvaia, where he obtained the degree of Bachelor of Physic, he accompanied an English gentleman to Geneva. He bad now obtained some knowledge of the French language and of music : be played tolerably well on the German flute ; which, from amusement, became, at some times, the means of his subsistence. His learning produced him an hospitable reception at most of the religious bouse she visited, and his music made bim welcome to the peasants of Flanders and Germany. While in Switzerland, Goldsmith assiduously cultivated 65. OLIVER G0LDSR11TH. liis poetical talenl. It was from hence he sent the first sketch of his delightful epistle, The Traveller, to his brother Henry, a clergyman in Ireland. Goldsmith; being recommended as a travelling companion to a young man who liad been left a considerable sum of money, proceeded with his pupil to the south of France, where, upon some disagreement, he received the small part of his salary which was due ; and lituling himself once more before the world, passed ihrongh many diiiicullies in traversing the greater part of France. At length, his curiosity being satisfied, he bent his course towards England, and landed at Dover the latter end of the year 1758. His finances were so low on his return to England that he with difliculty reached the metropolis ; his whole stock of cash amounting to a few half-pence. He applied to several apothecaries in hopes of being received in the capacity of a journeyman, but his broad Irish accent and the uncouthnessof his appearance occasioned him to meet with sad repulses from t!:e medical tribe : at length, a ciieniist near Fish Street Hill, struck with his forlorn appearance and the simplicity of his manners, took him into his laboratory, where he continued until he disco- vered his old friend. Dr. Sleigh, was in London : by this gentleman he was well received, and remained under his roof for some time 5 hut unwilling to be a burthen to his friend, he engaged himself as an assistant to the Rev. Dr. Milner, in instructins: the young gentlemen at the academy at Peckham, and acquitted himself greatly to the Doctor's satisfaction ; but having obtained some reputation by the criticisms he had published in the Monthly Review, Mr. Griffin, the principal proprietor, engaged him in the compilation of it ; and, resolving to pursue the profession of writing, he returned to London, and took lodgintrs, at the close of the year 1759, in Green Harbour Court, Old Bailey. Goldsmith's first works were The Bee, a weekly publi- cation ; and An Enquiry into the present stale of Polite Learniuf] in Europe. The late Mr. Newberry introduced him as one of the writers in the Public Ledger, in which OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 8pi,)cnred llie Citizen of the World, under the title of " Chinese Letters." Tliroiigh the friendship of Mr. Newberry he shifted his lodgings from Green Harbour Court, to Wine Office Court in Fleet-street, where he put t!ie finishing touch to his Vicar of Wakefield. Here he obtained the esteem of Dr. Johnson, who gave so j-trong a recommendation to Gold- smith's novel, that the author obtained sixty pounds for the copy. Among many other persons of distinction who were desirous to know our author, was the Duke of Northum- berland ; and the circumstance that attended his intro- duction to that nobleman is worthy of being recorded, in order to shew a striking trait in his character.* In 1765, the poem of The Traveller appeared ; and in the same year he published a Collection of Essays. Goldsmith's finances augmented with his fame, and enabled him to live in a superior style : he changed his lodgings in Wine Office Court for a set of Chambers in the Inner Temple : and, in conjunction with a literary friend, took a country house near to the six-mile stone on the Edgeware Road. In this rural retirement he wrote his History of England, in a series of Letters from a No- bleman to his So?i. In 1768, he produced his Good Natnred Man. The production of this comedy, from the profits of the three nights, and the sale of the copy, produced him five hundred pounds, by which, and the additional sum he had received out of the product of a Roman History, in * " I was invited," said the Doctor, " by my friend Percy, to wait upon the Duke. They shewed me into an anti-chamber, where, after waiting some time, a gentleman very elegantly dressed, made his appearance. Taking liim for the Duke, I delivered all the fine things I had composed, when, to my utter astonishment, he told nie I had mistaken him for bis master, who would see me immediately. At that instant, the Duke came into the apartment; and I was so confounded on the occasion, that I wanted words barely sufficient to express the sense I entertained of the Duke's politeness; I went away exceedingly chagrined at the blunder I had committed. OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 8 vols. 8vo. and a History of Eugland, 4 vols. Bvo. he was enabled to descend from the attic story in the Inner Temple, and take possession of a spacious suit of chambers in Brook Court, Middle Temple, which he purchased at no less a sum than four hundred pounds. Shortly after, he produced that beautiful poem. The Besetted Village. The bookseller gave him a note for one hundred guineas for the copy, which Goldsmith returned, saying " it was too much : it is more than the honest bookseller can aflbrd, or the piece is worth ;" * but the sale was so rapid, that the bookseller, with the greatest pleasure, soon paid him the one hundred guineas, M'iih acknowledgment for the generosity he had evinced upon the occasion. The next comedy the Doctor produced was in the year 1772 ; it was called She Stoops to Conquer, which proved very successful, the profits amounting to eight hundred pounds. * This is not the only trait pf high honour and justice in an Author ; for I have the great pleasure of recording two instances that have come under my own cognizance. Some years ago, I employed Harry Lenmine to compile me a six;-*nny pamphlet, and when he had finished it, I asked him the price." Just what you please, Sir," said the eccentric genius. I offered him £2. "No," said he, "that is far too much — 10*. is plenty." I could not induce him to receive more; till sometime after, when in sad distress, he accepted of the 30s. as a boon, but not for compiling the pamphlet. The other instance also relates to a transaction between myself and the dramatist, Mr. Moncvieff, author of Monsieur Toiison, Giovanni in London, &c. &c. This gentleman produced a piece at the Strand Theatre, called " The Fancy's Opera;" and I pur- chased, for ten pounds, the copy-right of the songs, but the piece proving oiwuccessful, in two days after, Mr. M., highly indeed to his honour, sent me the following letter: — " Dear Smeeton, Adelphi, June 28, 1823. " It is certain the reception of the Fancy's " Opera is not such as to render it adviseable to perform it after " this week. Under these circumstances, though you bought the " songs of liie piece on a risk, I have thought it will be better for " me to lose than you who have a family — I therefore return you " the ten pounds you gave me for the songs ; and shall be happy " if you will look in here the first opportujiity. \ ours ever truly, W. T. MONCRIEFF." OLIVER GOLDSMITH. Iliough Goldsmith was indiscreet, lie was industrious : he had previously written Histories of England, Greece, ntid Rome ; and afterwards finished his History of the Earth and Animated Nature. A short time before he paid the debt of nature, he had formed a plan of compiling an Universal Dictionary of Arts and Sciences ; but as he received very little encou- ragement, he desisted, though much against his will. The delighted poet now approached the period of his dissolution : he had been repeatedly attacked for some years with a strangury, and the embarrassed state of his affairs aggravated the violence of the disorder, which, with the agitation of his mind, brought on a nervous fever. Findiiig his disorder rapidly increase, he sent for his friends Dr. Fcrdyce and Mr. Hawes, to whom he related the symptoms of his malady. He told them he had taken two ounces of ipecacuanha wine as an emetic ; and expressed a great desire of making trial of Dr. James's fever powders. His medical friends represented to him the impropriety of taking medicine at that time ; but no argument could prevail with him to relinquish his inten- tion. Finding the dangerous symptoms of his disorder increasing, he was attended by Dr. Turton ; and they continued every day till the disorder put a period to the existence of their patient on the 4th day of April, 1774, in the 45th year of his age. His remains were privately deposited in the Temple burial ground, on Saturday, the 9th of April. A subscription was afterwards raised to defray the expense of a marble mausoleum, which was placed in Westminster Abbey, between those of Gay and the Duke of Argyll, in the Poet's Corner, with an elegant latin inscription by Dr. Johnson. Miss Hawkins, in her late work, which she calls " Memoirs, Anecdotes, Facts, and Opinions," but which, in truth, is full of the vilest slander, gross per- sonalities, and virulent ill-nature, relates two anecdotes of Goldsmith — one of his procuring, by lies and deceit, a portrait by Vandyke, at an insignificant price, from a OLIVER GOLDSMITH. countr}- inn ; — the other, of his going to Mr. Cade!?, of the Strand, shortly after he had contracted with the booksellers for his History of EngLind, for which he was to be paid five hundred guineas, and telling hiin that he was in fear of being arrested by his baker or butcher, and was in great distress. Mr. C. immediately summoned the other proprietors, and they agreed to give the veedy author the whole of the sum ; although he was not en- titled to any part of it until a twelve -month after the publication of his work ; accordingly Goldsmith received it under pretence of satisfying his creditors. Mr. C. she says, to discover the truth of his pretext, watched whither he weut, and after following him to IJyde Park Corner, saw him get into a post-chaise, in which a woman of the town was waiting for him, and with whom, as it afterwards appeared, he went to Bath to dissipate what he had thus fraudulently obtained." Now, vyith every respect for this Miss, (for, we be- lieve, she lives in a state of" single blessedness") we look upon these fads as very doubtful. Is it probable that such a strict tradesman as Alderman Cadeil was, or, in fact, any other bookseller, would take the trouble to call a meeting of his fellow subscribers, and request them to advance their money to a man whom he imagined intended to misapply it? The idea is preposterous. That he would obtain five hundred guineas for Goldsmith, and the instant he paid the money, a fresh light should break in upon him, and that he should follow the needy author to Hyde I'ark Corner, and there see him get in a post chaise with a. <}irl of the town, and proceed to Bath with the money which Miss H. says he fiaudulently obtained. As to fraud, there was none in it; even admitting the story to be tnte. Goldsmith only received his money before the time agreed on. There could be no fraud! for he had given full value for the sum he had received : he asked a favour, and they granted it. But enough oC this venom ! TWIS, ©WEJE (IMF SWi HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS THE DUKli OF SUSSEX, K. G. &C. &C. Learn this- Aiid thou shall prove a shelter to thy friends ; A hoop of gold, to bind thy brothers in ; That the united vessel of their blood. Mingled with venom of suggestion, (As, force perforce, the age will pour it in) Shall never leak, tnough it do work so strong As acouitum, or rash gun-powder." Hennj IV. Part THIS beaulifii! pvissage from our immortal bard will bring to our recoUeotion a most important scene ; and, while it inculcates a moral lessot;, sbew in a very amiable light the excellent Prince to whom it was addressed. Without meaning further to advert to the play of which we have been speaking, and which is a drama truly English, let us observe, that we have, this week, the honour to present our readers with the portrait of a Prince, equally amiable in his manners, equally bene- volent in his heart; and in his talents, classical learning, and attic eloquence, greatly superior. His Royal Highness AUGUSTUS Fredf.IUCK, the sixth son of cur late venerable Sovereign, was born at the Queen's Palace, on Vf ednesday, January 1^7, 1773, and baptized by the Archbishop ol' Canterbury on Thursday, the 25th of February following, 66. DUKE OF SUSSEX. After receiving the rudiments of education under the care of instructors appointed by His Majesty, the Prince, Slaving been created a Knight of the Garter, June 2, 1786, ^vas sent to the University of Gottingen, and, with his royal brothers Ernest and Adolphus Frederick (now Dukes of Cumberland and Cambridge), was entered there July 6 ; each of these illustrious brothers being accompanied by a governor, a preceptor, and a gentleman. The expenses of their table were fixed at 600 crowns per week, including two grand institution dinners, to which the professors and some students were invited. The Princes were here taught the German language by Pro- fesser Mayer, Latin by the celebrated Heyne, Religion by the Ecclesiastical Counsellor Less, and Morality by the Counseller Feder ; each of which masters was re- warded by an extraordinary appointment of 1000 crowns per annum. Having finished his education in this celebrated semi- nary of learning, his Royal Highness, with an attend- ance suited to his high rank, commenced his travels by a tour through Germany ;, after whicli he visited Italy, and resided four years at Rome, where he lived in habits of great intimacy with Pope Pius Vlth ; and in which city he married, on the 3d of April, 1793, Lady Augusta Murray, daughter of John, Earl of Diinmore ; to whom he was re-married in London, at the parish church of St. George, Hanover Square, on the 5th of December, 1793 ; and by whom he had a son, born January 13, 1794 ; wiiich child was, we think, followed by a daughter. This marriage, however, was, in Angust, 1794, de- clared null and void, as being in violation of statute 12, Geo. in. c. 11, which enacts, that no descendant of the body of King George II. (other than tlie issue of Prin- cesses married into foreign countries) is capable of contracting matrimony without the previous consent of the King, signified under the Great Seal. His Royal Highness afterwards visited the other principal courts of Italy : as Naples, Venice, Turin, &c. aud then went tu Switzerland, where he made a stay of DUKE OF SUSSEX. considerable length. From that countr_y lie proceeded to Beilin, where he resided about two years, during which time he received the most marked attentions from tho Prussian Court. His Rojal High'uess now returned to England, whence, however, after a short stay, he embarked for Lisbon in 1800, where he resided about four years ; and here we may consider him as having commenced his public life ; for, not only had he to contend with political intrigue at that court, and to take a very active part in public affairs of importance, particularly against the French Ambas- sador, General Lasnes ; but it was during the early part ofhis residence at Lisbon (?. e. on tlie 7th of November, 1801) that he was created a Peer of the Realm, by the style and titles of Baron of Arklow in Ireland, Earl of Inverness in North Britain, ond Duke of Sussex. To us, who are wholly out of the reach of state secrets, it may appear unaccountable, that the Duke of Sussex is the only one of the Royal Brothers that is wholly unpro- vided for, except by the national allowance granted to all the Princes. The King was (when only Prince of Wales) Colonel of the 10t!» regiment of Dragoons; the Duke of York, a Field Marshal, Commander-in-chief of all the Land Forces, Colonel of the 1st regiment of Foot Guards, Colonel-iti-cliief of the 6th (or Royal American) regiment, aad of the Royid Dublin regiment of Infantry, Lord Warden of Windsor Forest and Great Park, Warden and Keeper of Nev/ Forest, Hampshire, &c. &c. ; the Duke of Clarence, Admiral of the Fleet, and Ranger of Bushy Park; t'.ie late Duke of Kent, a Field IMarshal, Colonel of the Ist regiment of Foot, Governor of Gibral- tar, and Keeper of Hampton Court Park ; the Duke of Cumberland, a General in ibe Arniy, President of the Board of General Ollicers, and Colonel of the loth regiment of Dragoons ; and the Duke of (Cambridge, a General in the Army, Colonel of tiie '2d, or Coldstream rfjgiment of Foot Guards, and Colonel-in-chief of the Gerjnan Legion. DUKE OF SUSSEX. It certainly is not for us to inqaire, whj the illustriou.« subject of this article should alone have been neglected by ministers in the distribution of employments or emolu- nienls, civil or military ; but that it appears to us a pccwliar hardship we shall shew, by stating that the same law which annulled his Koyal Highaess's marriage, bound him to the maintenance of his espoused lady, and to the payment of her debts ; which we have heard, out of the national allowance of £ 18,000 per annum, is a clear deduction of £4,000. That his Royal Highness possesses strength and de- cision of mind, and is not deficient in talents that might adorn public life, may be fairly inferred, from Ihs cir- cumstance of his having, on certain great occasions, highly distinguished himself as a parliamentary speaker; more particularly in two orations delivered by his Royal Highness in the House of Lords, on the Regency Ques- tion, December !^7th 1810, and January 28th 1811 ; which eisLciled much attention throughout the country, as strongly demonstrative of the sound constitutional knowled^^e of this illustrious member of the house of Brunswick. In 1812, in the case of the Catholics, his Royal High- ness took a part no less decided. He seconded the Earl of Donoughmore's motion, for referring the petitions of the Catholics to a Committee ; and enforced his opinion ill a speech wliich evinced such a profound acquaint- ance with the subject, s'.icli a depth of reading in the decrees of the various cosiiicils in diflerent ages of the world, as much astonish persons who may have been led to suppose, because the i3uke of Sussex has no public or specific employment, that, therefore, his life is spent in ease and apathy. The truth is, that his Royal Highness is of a studious turn ; to which, per- haps, he may be particularly induced by the misfortune of a most distressing asthmatic habit, to which he thus alluded in the speech last mentioned : — " These sentiments are the consequence of long and serious inquiries, and have been greatly influenced by nUKE OF SUSSEX. deep and religious meditations. Since the last time 1 ventured to intrude injself upon the attention of this House, domestic calamities and serious indisposition Lave almost constantly visited me : it is in such moments as those, my Lords, when it appears as if a few instants would separate me for ever from ihis mortal life, and the hopes of a better console me in the hour of anguish and sorrow, that all prejudices cease, and that man views human events, unbiassed by prepossessions, in their true light, inspired with Christian charity, and calmed by a conlident reliance on the rnercy of the Omnipotent : at those times, when one may be said almost to stand face to face with one's Creator, I have frequently asked myself, what preference I could urge in my favour to my Redeemer, over my fellow-creatures, in whose sight all well-intentioned and well-inclined men have an equal claim to his mercy. The answer of my conscience always was — follow the directions of your Divine Master, love one another, and do not to others what you would not h?ve them do unto you. And upon this doctrine I am acting. The present life cannot be the boundary of our destination. It is but the first stage : the infancy of our existence : it is a minority, during which we are to prepare for more noble occupations ; and the more iaillifully we discharge our duties here below, the more exalted will be the degree of protection and felicity that we may hope to attain hereafter. How should I feel, if I were excluded from those civil rights which are denied my fellow-creatures ? This is a question that, in my opinion, can be answered but in one way ; especially, convinced as I am, that civil immunities, guarded by mild and secure boundaries, cannot endanger either Church or State." His Royal Highness v.'as some years since elected to, and graciously accepted, the command of a volunteer corps, called the Loyal North Britons. His Royal Highness, while at Berlin, formed a valu- able connexion between the Royal York Lodge, in that city, and the Grand Lodge of England ; and, upon every DUKt OF SUSSEX. occasion, used his utmost exertions in promoting and dillusing the benefits of that truly benevolent associatioa. During his stay at Lisbon, the Grand LoJge of Paris had sent several deputies, oflicers of the frigate La Topaze, to assemble the Portuguese Free Masons in Lisbon, and grant them warrants to form Lodges. The Duke of Sussex, however, advised them, rather than do that, to form Lodges of themselves, and send a repre- sentative to the Grand Lodge of England, to be acknovv- ledi^ed by that body; in which case, the political in- dependence of the country could not be biassed by the masonic connexion of the Portuguese Lodges with the Grand Lodge of France. The sedulous attention paid by the Royal Duke to the character and interests, the honour and happiness of the Free and Accepted Masons, is very apparent in the pre-eminent station which he now holds in the Fra- ternity. Nor dill his Royal Highness's well-known zeal and ability, as a mason, escape the notice of his Royal Brother, when Prince Regent; who, on the demise of the venerable Admiral Sir Peter Parker, appointed the Duke of Sussex, Di:i'UTY GRA^D Master oi' UiNGLAi^i). m^^®m^^®m. DR. SAMUEL JOHNSON. From his cradle " He v/as a scholar; and a ripe and a good one: " And to add greater honours to his age " Than man could give him, he died fearing heaven." This eminent Scholar was born at Licbtield, in Stafford- shire, on the IStli of September, N. S. 1709, and baptized in St. Mary's Church, in that city, on tlie same day. His father, Michael Johnson, was a native of Derbyshire, of obscure extraction, who settled in Lichfield as a Book- seller and Stationer ; where he died in 1731, at the age of seventy-six. Dr. Johnson was first taught to road English by Dame Oliver, who kept a school for young children, in Lichfield. He began to learn Latin wiih Mr. Hawkins, usher of Lichfield School, and afterwards with the master, Mr. Hunter. Johnson, on being asked how he had acquired so accurate a knowledge of th e Latin language, said, " My master whipt me very well. Without that, Sir, I should have done nothing." At the age of fifteen, he removed to the school of Stourbridge, in Worcestershire, where he remained little more than a year, and then returned home, Avhere be loitered for two years, in a state unworthy of his great abilities. On the 3l5t of October, 1728, he waS entered a Com- moner of Pembroke College, Oxford ; while here, he had to baffle with the most galling poverty; his debts soon increased ; and his scanty remittances from Lich- field, which had all along been made with great difficulty, could be supnlied no longer, his father having fallen into 67. DK. SAMUEL JOHNSON. a stale of insolvency. He was compelled, by liresi-stible necessity, to leave the college in 1731, without a degree, having been a member of it little more than three years : and he returned to his native city, not knowing how he should gain even a decent livelihood. In December of this year, his father died. In the forlorn state of his circumstances, he accepted an offer to be employed as usher in the school of Market- Bosworth, in Leicestershire ; but this situation of painful drudgery, which all his life he recollected with the strongest aversion, he soon relinquished. He now re- tired to Birmingham, where he hired lodgings ; bat he had no settled plan of life, and very scanty means of subsistence. While here, he translated Lobo's Voyage to Abyssinia, which was published in 1735. For this work, he had from Mr. Warren, only the sum of £5. In the year 1734 he became the fervent admirer of Mrs. Porter, a lady of good understanding, and great sensibility, but double the age of Johnson.* Miss Porter said, •' that when he was first introduced to her mother, his appearance was very forbidding : he was then lean and lank, so that his immense structure of bones was hideously striking to the eye, and the scars of the scrophula were deeply visible. He also wore his hair, which was straight and stiff, and separated behind : and he had often, seemingly, convulsive starts and odd gesticulations, which tended to excite at once surprise and ridicule.'* He was married to Mrs. Porter, at Derby, on the 9th July 1736 ; and in the same year he set up a private aca- demy, at Edial, near Lichfield, for young gentlemen ; but the only pupils that were put under his care, were the ce- lebrated David Garrick and his brother George, and a Mr. Offely. Johnson soou relinquished this employment ; and • Garrick used to exhibit her, by Ills exquisite talents of mi- micry, so as to excite the heartiest bursts of laughter : he described her as very fat, with a bosom of more than ordinary protuberance, with swelled cheeks, of a iloiid red, produced by thick painting, and increased by the liberal use of cordials; ttarinj^ and fantastic in her dress, and affected both in her •p«ech and her general behaviour. DR. SAMUEL JOHNSOiX. next luiued liis thoughts of trying his fortune in London, where he anived in 1737, in company with his pupil» David Garrick. It is pretty certain that Mr. Cave, the publisher of the Gentleman's Magazine, was the first person that employed Johnson as a writer iu London.* Johnson first lodged, in London, at the house of Mr. Norris, a stay-maker, in Exeter-street, Strand.t In 1737, he returned to Lichfield, where he had left Mrs. Johnson, and there he finished his tragedy oi Irene. He again visited the metropolis, in company with Mrs. Johnson and her daughter. His first performance in the Gentleman's Magazine was a copy of latin verses, in March, 1738 : in this year, also, appeared his London, a Poem; in imitation of the Third Satire of Juvenal ; which was offered to several hooksellers, none of whom would purchase it : at length, the worthy Dodsley saw it, who instantly gave ten guineas for the copy. From 1738 to 1747, Johnson employed himself chiefly in writing, for the Gentleman's Magazine, some Epitaphs, the Life of Savage the Poet, and a few Essays. But 1747 is distinguished as the epoch when Johnson's arduous and important work, his Dictionary of the English Lanyuage, was announced to the world ; for which the booksellers stipulated to give him fifteen hundred and seventy-five pounds. While this dictionary was going forward, Johnson lived part of the time iu Holborn, and part in Gough-square, Fleet-street. In 1749, he published The Vanity of Human Wishes : he composed seventy-five lines of this work in one day, * Wilcox, the bookseller, on being informed by Johnson, that his intention was to get his livelihood as eh author, eyed his robust frame attentively, and with a signiticant look, said " You had better buy a porter'* knot." f The following is an exact list of his places of residence since he entered the metropolis as an author. Exeter-street, near Catherine-street, Strand. — Greenwich. — Woodstock-street, near Hanover-square. — Castle-street, Caven- dish-square, No. 6.— Strand.— Boswell-court.— Strand again. — Bow-street. — Holborn. — Fetter-lane. — Holborn again. — Gough- square.— Staple's-inn,—Gray's-inR. — Inner Temple-lane, No. 1. Johnson's-court, No. 7,— Bolt-court, No. 8. DR. SAMUF-L JOHNSON. Without puttiiif^ one of iheni upon paper lill lliey were iinished. In this year, also, his tragedy of Irene was performed at Drury-lane Theatre, by which he gained '2951. 17s. On Tuesday, March 20, 1749, the first number of his JRanihler appeared. March 17, 1752, his wife died ; she was buried at Bromley, in Kent. His sulierings upon this occasion were severe, beyond what are commonly endured ; for he was the most kind, indulgent, and afi'ectionats of husbands. Her wedding-ring v/as, after her death, preserved by him, as long as he lived, with afi'ectionale care, in a little round wooden box, in the inside of which he pasted a slip of paper, thus inscribed by him in fair characters ; — " Eh en ! " E!iz. Johnson, " Nupta Jul. 9°. 1736, " Mortua, eheu ! " Mart. 17^ 1752." In 1755, the University of Oxford conferred on him the degree of Master of Arts, by diploma. Jn this year, also, his Dictionary, with a Grammar and History of the English Language, was published in 2 vols, folio ; and the world contemplated with wonder so stupendous a work, achieved by one man, while other countries tliought such undertakings fit only for whole academies. In 1756 he issued proposals for an edition of Sliaks- peare, with notes ; whicli shortly alter appeared. About this period he was offered a living of consider- able value in Lincolnshire, if he was inclined to enter into holy orders ; but he did not accept it. On the 15th of April, 1758, he began his celebrated periodical. The Idler. In January, 1759, bis mother died, at the age of 90 ; an event which deeply ali'ected him. While his mother lay dead, he wrote his Basselas, Prime of Ahyasinia, which lie completed in the evenings DR. SAMIIKL JOHNSON. of one week, sei.t it to the press in portions as it was written, and never read it over for many jcars after it was puhli.>liid. It was written tp defray the expense of Lis mother's funeral. Early in 17G2, Dr. Johnson was represented to his late Jtlajesty as a very ieained and good man, without any certain provision, and the King was pleased to grant Lim a pension of three hundred pounds per annum. In February, 176^, there happened one of the most remaikable incidents of Jol!aces, arrived in London, on the 16th of November, 1784 ; and soon after his return to the me- tropolis, both the asthma and dropsy became more violent DR. SAMUEL JOHNSON. and distressing. During his sleepless nights, !ie amnsed himself by translating into Latin verse, from the Greek, many of the epigrams in the Anthologia. The Doctor, from the time that he was certain his death was near, appeared to be perfectly resigned, was seldom or never fretful, or out of temper, and often said to his faithful servant, " Attend, Francis, to the salvation of your soul, which is an object of the greatest importance." On Monday, December 13, 1784, he died ; and on the 20th of the same month, his body was deposited in Westminster Abbey ; and over his grave was placed a large blue flag-stone. A cenotaph was erected in St. Paul's Cathedral to his memory; the epitaph being written by that erudite scholar, the Rev. Doctor Parr. It would be idle, to attempt in this small space, a character of Samuel Johnson: the illiberal attacks of many puny scribblers, are easily accounted for : be- cause this giant of literature would not condescend to argue with them, they said he was the vilest brute that ever lived. Posterity will do the memory of this good man justice — his humanity, charity, morality and religion — saying nothing of his learning, and his writings, — will for ever stamp Samuel Johnson, as one of the most eminent and illustrious of Englishmen. )'BniliM lS2^^m^MlEiTM.c ELIZABETH, QUEEN OF ENGLAND, Was the daughter of Henrj the Eighth, by the lovely but unfortunate Anne Boleyn : she was born at tiie palace of Placenlia, in Greenwich, September 7, 1533. Her infancy was unfortunate through the unhappy fate of her mother, but she was nevertlieless educated with care and attention. Mr. William Grindal was Elizabeth's first classical tutor, under whose instructions she made a rapid progress until the year 1548, when he unfortunately fell a victim to the plague. To supply the loss of him, she addressed herself to the celebrated Roger Ascham, who, at her solicitation, left the university of Cambridge, and consented to become her instructor. Under his tuition she resumed her studies with new ardour, and read, with attention and diligence, ihe ancient historians, philosophers, and orators. In July, 1553, her sister Mary, on the death of Edward VI. succeeded to the throne; and, having received from her many favours and testimonies of esteem, she treated her at first with a form of regard. But these fair appearances were of short duration ; articles, calculated to ensnare Elizabeth, were devised and drawn up ; and her person, upon mere surmise and affected distrust, seized, secured, and harassed from place to place. She was imprisoned and harshly treated, even to the hazard of her life. Her sufferings were, however, mitigated by the interposition of Philip of Spain, the husband of Mary: through his inlluence she was liberated from confinement, and treated with greater respect. In gratitude to Philip she caused his portrait to be placed by her bed-side, and was ac- customed to speak of him to her friends as her deliverer and preserver. On the death of Mary, which happened November 17, 1558, Elizabeth succeeded to the throne, and proceeded to London f'iroKf I sr?J*J'ds of people, who 68, aU£llN ELIZABEfH. contended with each other in testimonies of jo>' and attachment. With a niagnanimit)' that did her honour, and a prudence that evinced her judgment, she threw a veil over every oft'ence that had been committed against her, and received graciously and with affability the most virulent of her enemies. After devoting a few days to domestic arrangements, she gave notice to foreign courts of her accession to the throne. Philip, who in this event had meditated, by espousing Elizabeth, to obtain that power in England which his connection with her sister had failed to procure liim, immediately despatched orders to his ambassador in London, to make, in his name, proposals of marriage to the Queen, and to offer to procure from Rome a dispensation for the nuptials, which proposal, Elizabeth, without hesitation, declined. She now made ^ome pro- jects in paying off the debts which pressed heavily upon the crown, and in regulating the coin, which had been debased by her predecessors. She furnished her arsenals with arras from abroad ; engaged the nobility and gentry to imitate her example ; introduced into the kingdom the arts of making gunpowder and brass cannon ; fortified her frontiers towards Scotland ; made frequent reviews of the militia ; encouraged agriculture, by allowing corn to be freely exported ; promoted trade and navigation ; and restored the naval force. The reputation which she acquired, added to the flourishing state of her affairs, procured her various offers of marriage, notwithstanding her declared prefer- ence of a single life. The archduke Charles, second sou to the emperor, and Casimir, son to the Elector Palatine, were among the number of her suitors. Eric, king of Sweden, and Adolph, Duke of Holstein, made the same proposals. The Earl of Arran, heir to the crown of Scotland, was also recommended to her in marriage. But lord Robert Dudley, a young man of specious qua- lities and address, was the declared favourite of the Queen. Elizabeth gave to all her suitors a gentle refusal, without absolutely discouraging their hopes. A mixture of co- aUEEN ELr/ABETil. quelry and policy appeared to infiuciicc liei conduct, while in Lcr own mifid she determined never to divide her power. The Guises having, in opposition to their monarch, formed a confederacy with Spain, opened the way for an alliance hetween France and England. The Duke of Aleogon (afterwards Duke of Anjou) had never wholly dropped the project of espousing Elizabeth, and, not satisfied with the courtship of his brother's ambassador, sent over an agent of his own, an artful and agreeable man, better calculated to forward his suit. The Duke of Anjou, encouraged by the reports of his agent, paid a secret visit to the Queen at Greenwich, from which it does not appear that the lover, notwith- standing his figure was far from prepossessing, lost ground by this interview. The flattering reception he met with removed all doubts, and inspired him with the most sanguine hopes of success. On the anniversary of the coronation, which was celebrated with pomp, Eliza- beth was observed, after along and familiar conversation with the Duke, to take from her finger a ring, and place it upon his. This public proof of her favour persuaded the spectators that the nuptials could not be far distant : it was even regarded as a promise of marriage signified to the eyes of the world. Notwithstanding this manifestation of her sentiments, the heart of Elizabeth was still agitated by doubts : she remained for some time in great perturbation, irresolution, and anxiety ; her nights were sleepless, and her days unquiet ; till at length, as might have been foreseen, her permanent habits of prudence and ambition triumphed over a temporary inclination. Having sent for the Duke of Anjou, the Queen held with him a long conversation ; in which it is supposed she apologised to him for breaking her engagements, as, on leaving her, he appeared greatly irritated and dis- gusted, threw away the ring which she had given him, and muttered curses on the mutability of woman, and of islanders. He soon after departed to his government in J QUEEN ELIZABETH, ilie Netlicilauds ; lost tlie confidence of (lie .stales h^ an attempt on their liherties ; was expelled the countrj ; retired into Fiance, and there died. Thus did Elizabeth, by timely reflection, and by attending to the counsels of her friends, avoid the calamities which must have fol- lowed so unsuitable and imprudent a connection. The anxieties of Elizabeth from the attempts of the English catholics, ceased not during the whole of her reign ; while the revolutions that happened in Scotland sometimes raised her hopes and excited her fears. The Queen of Scots had frequently made overtures to Eliza- beth, which had been uniformly treated with neglect. The jealousy which had been excited in Elizabeth by the pretensions, the principles, and the character of the Queen of Scots, induced her to adopt measures by which the danger was aggravated. Mary, in resentment of the severe treatment which she experienced, continually menaced the repose and the authority of her oppressor. Every method to free herself from confinement brought upon the captive queen additional rigours, by which her spirit, high and undaunted, was exasperated rather than broken. By a combination of causes, Mary was, at length, urged to her ruin ; for an opportunity to elFect which her enemies had long been laying in wait; and at last Mary was brought to that situation so long and, it is feared, ardently desired by Elizabeth. To dis- semble was habitual to her, and she found no difliculty in affecting the utmost reluctance to permit the sentence, pronounced by the commissioners upon Mary, to be put in force. The sentence was ratified by both houses, and an application made to the queen to consent to its execution. To this petition she returned an answer equivocal and embarrassed ; full of apparent irresolution and real artifice. She at length summoned her secretary Davison, and ordered him to draw out, secretly, a warrant for the execution of the Queen of Scots ; which, it .was afterwards pretended by Elizabeth, was meant to keei> by her in case of an attemff^at the deliverance of Mary. Having sigr^cd the warrant, she commanded QUEEN ELIZABETH. Davison to carry it to tlie chancellor, and get lib seal affixed. Davison having acquainted tlie council with the whole transaction, thej endeavoured to persuade him to send off Beale, the clerk of the council, with the warrant. The secretary, not aware of their intentions, fell into the snare : the warrant was dispatched, and orders given for the execution of the prisoner. While ensuring tranquillity at home, Elizabeth was not negligent of distant dangers. Philip was secretly preparing a large navy to revenge himself of the iiisults he had received from the English. The Marquis of Santa Cruze, a sea officer of great reputation, was destined to the command of a fleet, to which, from its uncommon size, force, and formidable appearance, the Spaniards had already given the title of the Invincible Armada. These extraordinary preparations were soon known in England. Elizabeth, having foreseen the invasion, determined to contend for her crown with the whole force of the Spanish monarchy. Twenty-two thou- sand foot, and one thousand horse, under the command of Leicester, were stationed at Tilbury to defend the capital. The main army, consisting of thirty thousand horse, was commanded by Lord Hunsdon, and appointed to march wherever the enemy should appear. The English fleet sailed and gallantly attacked the armada, which was also overtaken, soon after it had passed the Orkneys, by a violent tempest. The ships, having already lost their anchors, were obliged to keep the sea : the sailors, unaccustomed to such hardships, yielded to the fury of the storm, and suffered themselves to be driven either on the western isles of Scotland, or on the coast of Ireland, ■where they were miserably wrecked. On the 4th of September, soon after these events, died the Earl of Leicester, the great but unworthy favourite of Elizabeth, whose attaohraent to him continued to the last moment of his life. This event was shortly followed by the death of Essex, who fell, in the bloom and vigour of life, a victim to his rash and ungovernable temper. He was privately executed in the Tower. aUECN LLIZAJJETrl. After the return of Essex from the expedition against Cadiz, observing the increase of the qaeen's attachment towards him, he expressed bis regret that the necessity of her service called him so often from her presence, and his fears lest in these intervals, the ill offices of his enemies should prevail against him. To calm this jealousy, the queen gave him a ring, assuring him, into whatever disgrace he should fall, that on the sight of that ring, she would recollect her former affection, v/ould again afford Liui a tearing, and lend to his apology a favourable ear. This precious gift was preserved by Essex till the last extremity, when he resolved to make proof of its efficacy, and committed it to the countess of Nottingham, whom he requested to deliver it to the queen. The countess was prevailed on by her husband to suppress what had passed and conceal the ri.ig. Elizabeth, still expecting from her favourite this last appeal to her tenderness, and ascribing his neglect to obstinacy and pride, was urged, at length, by policy and resentment, to sign the warrant for his execution. The countess of Nottingham being seized with sickness, and finding her end approaching, was smitten by remorse for the part she had acted. Having, at her request, ob- tained a visit from the queen, she revealed the fatal secret and implored forgiveness. Elizabeth, struck with horror, burst into passion, shook the dying penitent in her bed, and wildly exclaimed, " That God might pardon her, but she never could." Having thus said, she broke from her, and thenceforth abandoned herself to sorrow. The anxiety of her mind made swift ravages on her feebL- frame ; her voice and senses soon after failing, she fell into a lethargic slumber, in which having continued some Lours, she expired gently, March 24, 1603, in the 70th year of her age, and the 4.5th of her reign. The portrait which accompanies this Memoir represents the Queen in the dress in which she went to St. Paul's to return thanks for the destruction of the Spanish Armada. T}Mmm^w> wm^m^wT. THOMAS DERMODY Was born at a town called Innis, in the county of Clare in Ireland, in the year 1774. His father, who was a re- spectable scbool-mastor in that place, early initiated him in the knowledge of the Latin and Greek languages. Der- mody was studious even in his childhood, and that which is generally esteemed by other boys a drudgery, was to him a pleasure. At a very early age he had read most of the poets of antiquity, and had absolutely began an English version of Homer, at a time of life when most boys are studying their grammars. At about nine years of age a desire to see the metropolis of his country, led him clan- destinely to leave his father's house, and with a small bundle under his arm, and a few shillings in his pocket, he turned his back on bis paternal comforts for ever, setting out to seek his fortune, as he himself has related, fully assured in his own mind that his talents and acquire- ments would soon introduce him to the literary men of the day. Arrived in Dublin — all his money expended, and without a friend, or even an acquaintance to whom he could apply for relief— the little fellow wandered about the streets almost perishing with hunger, till chance di- rected him to a sort of book-stall on Ormond quay, which was kept by a poor man of the name of Saunders, a native of Scotland. Saunders seeing something extraordinary in the appearance of the boy, was induced to ask him some questions, by which means, learning his situation, he gave him an invitation to partake his homely meal, and afterwards lodged him in a stall or shed, the repository of learning. Here Dermody often had the honour of rescuing from the rapacious mice the very leaves on which their heroic deeds were sung by the bards of old — and 69. THOMAS DERMODV. many a critic rat repented liis rashness, cangltt bj the joungpoet, making ratber too free with the works of bis dear friends Shakspeare and Cervantes. Under the protection of the friendly bookseller, Der- modj remained onjy a short time : a gentleman happening one day to pass near the stali, detected him in the very act of reading Longinus ! — From this moment the fame of his learning began to spread ; the book-merchant's stall was often visited by persons who were desirous to con- verse with the astonishing boy ; and he was not long suffered to remain in obscurity. In Ireland, genius, when known, does not long languish in neglect. The Countess of Moira became the patroness of the young Dermody ; she placed him under the care of the Rev. Mr. Boyd, of Portarlington, well known to the literary world as the elegant translator of Dante. After his having re- mained under the care of this clergyman some time, he was, by his noble and beneficent patroness, removed to a ce'ebrated academy iu Dublin, kept by the Rev. Mr. Austin. While with Mr. Austin, Dermody published a volume of poems, composed between the ages often and twelve, which gained him great celebrity ; so much so that he was spoken of in Dublin as a prodigy, and many of the nobility being desirous of seeing and conversrug with him, he visited at their hous£s as often as they could ob- tain leave of his tutor for a short abstinence from his studies. Dermody afterwards published a volume of poems, written between the ages of fourteen and fifteen^ which poems (if possible) increased his fame. At about this time, by his imprudent condu<^t, he lost the countenance of his noble patroness, the Countess of Moira, and, after committing many irregularities, at length he enlisted as a common soldier, but was traced and recovered this time by the exertion of the late Mr. llaymond, of Drury-Lane theatre, then on the Dublin boards, who was for many years his firm and steady friend. To trace Dermody through all the vicissitudes of his life, would ftjr exceed the limits of this account : suffice it to say, that he was for three years in the army, at first as a J THOMAii DI'RMUDV. common soUUer, afterwaros as a corporal, ajid last of ai! iis a lieuteiiatit- He was in several engagements, in all of which lie behaved with uncommon bravery, and had the misfortune to be very severely wounded more than once. Dermody's commission was presented him by the truly noble Lord Moira, whose liberai patronage and friendship our bard enjoyed until his deatii. In this country Derniody snliered all the extremity of want, aud languished, unknown and unregarded, till he was discovered and drawn from his obscurity by his former friend, Mr. Raymond. He was at that time in the utmost state of wrttchedness, but, by the assiduous exertions of iiis friend, he was soon introduced to some literary men, and began his career as an author in this metropolis. A rapid decline closed the life pf the unhappy Dermody on the lath July, 1802. About a fortnight before his death, thinking the country air might relieve him, he wandered from town, and took up his residence in a wretched old house near Sydenham, inhabited by la- bourers employed in digging the canal in that neighbour- hood. From hence he wrote to Mr. Raymond, at.d another friend, who had been in the habit of contributing to his necessities, and begged their assistance. These friends immediately .sent him a small supply of cash, and then went to see him. He was, indeed, in a miserable state. He received them with a tear of gratitude ; — his voice had not strength to tell his Ihanks : he soon reco- vered himself, however, enough to converse a little. One of his friends observing Butler's Hudibras on the table — " I am merry to the last you see," said he ; then being taken with a (it of coughing, " Ah !" said he, " this iiollow^ cough rings out my knell." A few hours after- wards he died. His friends had feft him, having pre- viously taken a lodging for him, delightfully situated on Sydenham Common, to which it was their intcijlion to have removed him the next day. He was buried in Lewish.am church-yard; the two friends before nienlioned TilOMAS DERMODV. performed the last satl office of humariit}^ Ijy attenJint; inm to his t^rave, and by their care a handsome tomb has been erected to his memory, with the following inscrip- tion, selected from his works. " No titled birth had he to boast, Son of the Desart ! Fortune's child ! Yet, not by frowning Fortune crost, The Muses on his cradle smil'd. " Now a cold tenant dust thou lie Of this dark cell ; — all hush the songf. While Friendship bends his streaming eye, As by thy grave he wends along. " On thy cold clay lets fall the holy tear. And cries — " Though mute, there is^a poet here !" The misfortunes of Dermody, and his early death, were not, like Chattarton's, produced by the miseries of want, or the dearth of patronage. As his genius was of the first order, so were his friends liberal to him beyond example. The Literary Fund, as a body, often relieved him, and its members, individually, were his best supporters. Sir James Bland Burgess, Mr. Bragge, Lord Carlisle, Lord Kilwarden, Baron Smith, Hely Addington.Mr. Boscawen, Mr. Pye, and Mr. Addington, the Right Honourable Chancellor of the Exchequer, gave him large sums ; and, even a few days before bis death, a society of gentlemen associating at a tavern in the neighbourhood of Covent- Carden, on Dcrmody's situation being represented to them by a distinguished literary character, voted, with- out hesitation, an immediate supply, part ofv.hich was administered to him on the following day. For so young a man, Dermody has written much. Tn addition to the various volumes of poems published with his name, he was the author of More Wonders, an Heroic Epistle, addressed to M. G. Lewis, Esq ; Battle of the Bards, in two Cantos, occasioned by the dispute between liifibrd and Peter Pinder ; Ode to Peace, addressed to THOMAS DEUMODY, ■Mr. Aldington ; Ocle on tin Death oj Gaw) al Ahercromby ; Histrionade, a Satire on tl>.e Thcaliic.il Performers, after tlie manner of Clinrfluir.s Kosciad. In the estimalioii of those friends to whom Dcrmody was best known, the following picture is allowed to be admirably drawn, and truly characteiistic of the poet himself, for and by whom it was written, and publislicd in bis last volume. MY OWN CHARACTER. This once I will alter my old-fas hion'd style, For the rosy reward of a sensible smile, And betiay the wild sketches of Passion, imprest By Nature's own seal, on that tablet, my breast, Whicb, too oft, as 'tis sway'd by the whim of the brain, A rude Chaos of blunder is fo; c"d to contain, Piojections absurd, prepossessions unjust, Tho' friendship has still found it true to its truest. And it, still, when such blots are expung'd, may be fit For the splei«Ior of sense, or the sparkle of wit. Then, first, I confess, least you kindly mistake, I'm a compound extreme of the Sage and the Rake ; Abstracted, licentious, affected, heroic, A Poet, a soldier, a coxcomb, a stoic ; Thismcment, ab.^temious as Faquir or Bramin ; The next, Aristippus-like, swinishly cramming; Now, full of devotion, and loyal dispute ;■ A demociat, now, and a deist to boot ; Now, a frown on my front, and a leer in my eye ; Now, heaving unfcign'd sensibility's sigh ; Now, weighing with care each elaborate word ; Now, the jest of a tavern, as drunk as a lord ; By imminent woes, now, unmov'd as a stone ; And, now, tenderly thrill'd by a grief not my own. Of Love shall I speak? who my bosom still bare To the arrows, discharg'd from the glance of the fair, A target, whose verge many shafts may receive. But whose centre, as yet, is untouch'd, I believe; For who to one damsel could, meanly, confine That heart, which is ever devoted to nine? Shall I speak of Politeness? ah f there I am mute, For tho' honest in thought, I'm in manners — a brute; IMy virtues, indeed, are too shy to be seen, Tho' my follies are not quite so bashful, I ween. Nut e'en to a lady a fine thing I say. As blunt as the hero of Wycherly's plav. THOMAS DERMOUY. Tiio'liuli&s, good faith, Jave been never my game, For I guess tlie whole sex arc, in secret, the same ; Smooth Ihitt'ry may lilt tliedeaJ nymph in the sky; But her teeliny:s will certainly give It the lie ; And in cases which I, and, most probably, you know. She had rather be Jane, than Diana, or Juno. Shall I make to grave dowager Prudence, a claim ? Alas! I haveslightedher much, tomyshame, Secur'd no snug office, scrap'd up no estate, Nay, scarce own a Garret to shelter my pute : So have nought to consign, when I've tinish'd my mirth. But mv book to the critics, my body to earth. Thro' life's chequer'd changes, in every state. Hypocrisy, always, has mot with my hate. For, tho' iocs maybe blinded, or friends may be bam'd, I very well know, 1 may chance — to be damn'd. Should you seek, in my mere conversation, to find Those sprightly conceits, that illumine my mind, Your seareii will be vain, for I candidly vow, I can ne'er make a compliment; seldom, a bow; Yet, when Venus appears, at gay Bacchus'scall, I can coax her with ever a b!o.>d of them ail. Tho' youth's florid blush on my cheek is decay'd (Such blooms will soon wither in study's pale shade,) Remembrance still pensively hangs on each scene. That rais'd the sweet raptures of careless nineteen; Then, to transport's tine touch evei7 pulse was alive. Now I droop, in the year of my age— twenty-five ! This, you'll instantly cry, is a wonderful thing : But my summer of genius arriv'd ere its spring. The orange-tree thus, prematurely, we're told, Bears its blossoms of green, and its fruitage of gold. And these talents of mine, now entirely forgotten, Like tiie a>ed!ar, soon ripe, were, I fear, as soon rotten. ■■■ 'MM B? i££i^mg©:Ei^iL, SIR WILLIAM HERSCHEL, L.L.D. F. R.S. This eminent astronomer was born at Hanover, on the 15th of November, 1738, and was the second of four sons. At the age of fourteen he was placed in the band of the Hanoverian regiment of guards. About the year 1758 he proceeded with a detachment of his regiment to England, accompanied bv his father, who, after a short stay, returned to his native country, leaving his son in England. It was young Herschel's good luck to gain the notice of the Earl of Darlington, who engaged him to superintend and instruct a military band then forming for the militia of the county of Durham. At the termination of his engagement, he gave instructions in music to private pupils in the principal towns of the West Riding of Yorkshire ; where he also officiated as leader in the oratorios and public concert^. The leisure hours he could spare he employed in perfecting himself in the English and Italian languages : he also made some progress in the Greek and Latin. Towards the close of the year 1765 he was appointed, through the interest and friendship of Mr. Joah Bates, to the situation of organist at Halifax. In the year 1766, the late Mr. Linley engaged him and his elder brother for the pump-room band at Bath : he was a distinguished performer on the oboe, and his brother on the violincello. He was not long in this city before he was appointed organist to the octagon chapel ; on attaining this distinguished situation, he resigned that of Halifax ; but this accession of business only increased his propensity to study ; and, frequently after a fatiguing day of fourteen or sixteen hours occupied in his profes- sional avocations, he would seek relaxation, if such it might be called, in extending his knowledge of the mathematics. 70. SIR WILLIAM HERSCHEL. Having, in the course of his extensive reading, made some discoveries which awakened his curiosity, he applied himself to the study of astronomy and the science of optics, and obtained, from a neighbour in Bath, the loan of a two-feet telescope, in order that he might observe those wonders of which he had read ; which delighted and astonished him so much, that he commis- sioned a friend in London to procure him one of larger dimensions ; but the price being much too great for him, he resolved on attempting to construct one himself. After innumerable disappointments, which tended only to stimulate his exertions, he, in the yeaf'.1774, had the gratification of beholding the planet SAturn through a five-feet Newtonian reflector made by himself. Tlie success of his first attempt emboldened him to fresh efibrts, and in a short time he completed telescopes from seven to twenty feet. As a proof how indefatigable was his perseverance, that in perfecting the parabolic figure of the seven-feet reflector, he finished no fewer than two hundred specula before he produced one that satisfactorily answered his purpose. As he found himself becoming hourly more attached to the study of astronomy, he lessened his professional engagements, as also the number of his pupils. Towards the latter end of the year 1779, he commenced a regular review of the heavens, star by star ; and in the course of eighteen months' observations, he fortunately remarked that a star, which had been recorded by Bode as a fixed star, was progressively changing its position ; and, after much attention to it, he was enabled to ascertain that it •was an undiscovered planet. He communicated the particulars to the Royal Society, who elected him a fellow, and decreed him their annual gold medal. This great and important discovery he made on the 13th of March, 1781, and bestowed on the planet the name of Georgium Sidus, in compliment to our late king, George the Third. Herschel, from this splendid result of his labours, not only established his fame in the scientific world, bst SIR WILLIAM HERSCHEL. was enablefl, by the donation of a handsome salary from his late Majesty, to relinquish his professional labours, and devote the remainder of his life wholly lo astronomy. Ill consequence of this munificent act of the king's, which must ever be mentioned to his honour as a patron of science, he quitted Bath, and fixed his residence, first at Datchet, and afterwards at Slough, near Windsor. " It was here," says the Annual IJiography and Obituary for 1823, from which truly excellent work this sketch is chiefly taken — " in the hope of facilitating and extending his researches, he undertook to construct a telescope of forty feet, which was completed in 1787 ; but this stupendous insi:?ument failed to answer all the purposes intended, being too ponderous to retain a true figure, so that comparatively few observations could be made with it, and those for a very short period. It was oftener by the aid of more manageable instruments that he perused the great volume of the heavens, and derived from it new contributions, to enrich the records of astronomical science. In these researches, and in the laborious cal- culations to which they led, he was assisted by his excellent sister, Miss Caroline Herschel, whose indefa- tigable and unhesitating devotion in the performance of a task usually considered incompatible with female habits, excited equal surprise and admiration. "In 1783 he announced the discovery of a volcanic mountain in the moon ; and four years afterwards com- municated an account of two other volcanoes in that orb, which appeared to be in a state of eruption." In a paper in the Philosophical Transactions for the year 1790, he says, " In hopes of great success with my forty-feet speculum, I deferred the attack upon Saturn until that should be finished ; and having taken an early opportunity of directing it to Saturn, the very first moment I saw that planet, which was on the 28th of last August, I was presented with a viev/ of six of the satel- lites, in such a situation, and so bright, as rendered it impossible to mistake them. The retrograde motion of Saturn amounted to four millions and a half per day. SIR WILLIAiM iJERSCHEL. wliicli made it very easy to ascertain whether the stars I took to be satellites really were so ; and in about two hoars and a half i had the pleasure of finding that the planet had visibly carried them all away from their places." There is a more decisive testimony to the merits of this telescope in the Philosophical Transactions for 1790. In a paper relating to the planet Saturn, he says — " It may appear remarkable, that these satellites should have remained so long unknown to us, when, for a century and a half past, the planet to which they belong has been tlie object of almost every astronomer's curiosity, on ac- count of the singular phenomenon of the ring. But it will be seen from the situation and size of the satellites, that we could hardly expect to discover them till a teles- cope of t!ie dimensions and aperture of my forty feet re- flector should be constructed." In the Transactions for 1800, there is the following ex- tract from his Journal — " October 10, 1791. I saw the fouith satellite, and the ring of Saturn, in the forty feet speculum wiihout an eye-glass. The magnifying power, on that occasion, could not exceed sixty or seventy ; but the greater penetratins; power made full amends for the lowness of the former. Among other instances of the superior effects of penetration into space, I should men- tion the discovery of an additional sixth satellite ofSaturn, on the 28th of August, 1789, and of a seventh on the 11th of September of the same year, which were first pointed cut by this instrument." The Obituary for 1823, says— " In 1802, Dr. Herschel laid before the Royal Society a catalogue of five thousand new nebulae, nebulous stars, planetary nebulae, and clusters of stars, which he had discovered. By these and other scientific labours he established his title to rank among the most eminent as- tronomers of the age, and to be placed in the roll of those whom this produced, only second to the immortal Newton. The high sense entertained of his well applied talents was testified by the marks of respect which he received from various public bodies, and in particular by thehono- SIR WILLIAM IIEKSCIIEL. raiy degree of Doctor of Laws conferred on him bj tlie University' of Oxford. He also enjojed the constant palronage of his venerable sovereign; and in 1816, his present majestj^, then prince regent, v^as pleased, on the behalf of his rojal father, to bestow on hira the appropriate and well earned distinction of the Hanoverian and Guelphic order of Knighthood. " He was distinguished for great amenitj of temper ; and for that modesty which is the becoming accompani- ment of great abilities. Another amiable trait in his character was the good humour with which be bore the occasional intrusions of inquisitive country-people in bis neighbouihood, in whom his astronomical studies created a notion that he held mysterious converse with the stars. A pleasant instance of his conduct on these occasions has been often related. One rainy summer a farmer waited upon him, to solicit his advice as to the proper time for cutting hay. The doctor pointed through a window to an adjoining meadow, in which lay a crop of grass utterly swamped: "Look at that field," said he, " and when I tell yon it is mine, I think yon will not need another proof to convince you that I am no more weather wise, than yourself, or the rest of my neighbours." "Dr. Herschel married Mary, the widow of John Pitt, Esq ; by whom he had one son, who was some time since a member of the University of Cambridge. " Sir William did not relinquish bis astronomical ob- servations until within a few years of his death, which took place on the 23d cf August, 1822, at the age of 82. He expired in the fullness of years, honoured with the applause of the world ; and, what was far dearer to him, the veneration of his family, and the esteem and love of all who knew him. On the 7th of September, his re- mains were interred in the parish church of Upton Berks,, in which parish he had for many years resided. " His will, dated the 17th of December, 1818, has, been proved in the Prerogative Court. The personal effects were svyorn under £6,000. The copyhold and atber lands and tenements at Upton-cum-Chalvey, and at SIR WILLIAM HERSCHtL. Slough, he devised to his son, with £.25,000 in the three per cent, reduced annuities. To his brother, Johan Dietrich, he bequeathed two thousand pounds ; annuities of one hundred pounds each to his brother Johan Alexander, and his sister Caroline ; and twenty pounds each to nephews and nieces : the residue, with the exception of astronomical instruments, observations, &c. given to his son, for the prosecution of his studies, was left solelj to Lady Herschel." Sir William Herschel was Knight of the Guelphic Order; President of the Astronomical Society; Astrono- mer Royal ; &c. &c. 3i®W2§ S^^^. LOUIS XVIII. Louis Stanislaus Xavier de France, Count de Pro- VUNCK, second son of the Dauphin, the son of Louis XV. was born at Versailles, November 17, 1755. From his earliest years he manifested a timid and reserved disposition. Stud^f became his predominnnt passion, and his preceptor never remarked iti him any of those displays of passion or warmth of affection which are often the sign of a noble mind. Educated wit!i his two bro- thers, the Duke de Berry (afterwards Louis XVL), and the Count d'Artois, he always displayed a g;reater reserve towards his elder, than his younger brother. At tlie accession of Louis XVI. to the throne, Monsieur, wlio had a sort of reputation as a man of talents, on account of his Roman literature, which he was fond of quoting in conversation, wished to take part in the affairs of go- vernment. He even put a small pamphlet into the hands of the King, entitled •' Mes Penseis" Louis XVL meeting him next day in the gallery at Versailles, said to him, coarsely enough, but according to the manner to which he was inclined by his character, •' Hrother, henceforward keep your thoughts to yourself." This debut did not discourage him. and profiting by the first appearance of confusion, he began in form to intrigue against Louis XVI. and Maria Antoinette. At the Assembly of the Notables his Bureau was in open opposition to all the others. This Prince had calculated long before the means of at least procuring himself to be nominated Regent of the kingdom. He varied in his projects. The last which he atlopted was that of reviving the system of Grand Feudatories, and hence he acquired considerable property in every pro- 71. LOt'IS THE EIGHTEENTH. vince, in order to have a sovereignty in all. It was lie who had, bj means of the Duke of Fit/james, the papers laid before the parliament of Paris which were to prove the bastardj of the children of Louis XVT. who was known to be impotent. This it was which gave rise to the saying of the Count d'Artois at the baptism of Madame, now the Duchess of Angouleme : — Pour celle la elle nest pas de Sire (Cire). Louis XVIIL may be regarded ag one of the most ardent promoters of the Revolution. The business of the Marquess de Farras, who was to carry off the King to Perouse, was the work of Monsieur, who was then to have been proclaimed Regent. During tlje execution of the unfortunate Farras, it is known that this Prince displayed the greatest uneasiness, fearing that his agent would reveal all he knew. He sent every minute to know what was going forward, and waited in the dining-rocm. At length one of his people arrived, out of breath, and exclaimed, " Monsieur, the Marquess is hanged." Monsieur im- mediately recovered his serenity, and said, *« Let us dine then." When the course of events indicated pretty clearly th^ danger to which the royal family was exposed. Monsieur was one of those who emigrated. He left Paris in June, 1791, and went to Austrian Flanders. He has left us a description of this Hegira, dedicated to the companion of his flight, d'Avaray, a very fit Omar for such a Mahomet. It was this running away that M. de Talleyrand described so wittily, as " the journey of Harlequin, who is always afraid, and always * hungty.' " From Brussels, Monsieur went to Coblentz. He there organized the system of emigration, and by his intrigues in the interior, accelerated the progress of the revolu- tion, and took an active part in all its violence. His project then was, by promoting the emigration of the Nobles, the Clergy, and the opulent Citizens, to form a party in the country, composed of their relations and friends ; and being able by their means to controul public opinion, to procure the Regency for himself, to LOUIS THE EIGHTEENTH. make liis brother abdicate, to degrade the Queen, and tarn the papers he had submitted to the parliament of Paris to the prejudice of their children. Immediately after he left France, he sent accredited agents, in his own name, to all the Princes of Europe. He corrupted Dumourier, and his intrigues against the Queen became so flagrant, that the court of Vienna directed him to disband his arm}-. The publication of a multitude of official facts has proved that Monsieur had direct and constant communications with Robespierre. Even at this very time his sister has a pension from the privy purse of the King. All the members of the parliament of Paris who were so unfortunate as to have any know- ledge of the pajiers laid before that body by the Duke of Fit'/james, were guillotined. The virtuous Malesheibes was also executed, because to him was confided the secret codicil made by Louis XV'I. Banished from Cologne by the Elector, repulsed from Vienna by the Emperor, Monsieur, then known by the title of Count de Lille, went first to Poland and after- wards to Mittau. It was at this last place his great love of writing induced him to compose his celebrated letter to Napoleon, then Consul, which began thus: — " I have never confounded M. Buonaparte with, &c. &c." In spite of this display of fine sentimenst, the King, for Louis the Seventeenth was then dead, always laboured for his re-establishment, and the conspiracies of Georges, Cadoudal, of Pichegru, of Moreau, and of the Machine Iiifernale, shew what sort of means of success appeared proper to him. Those who entertain any doubt on this subject may see in the Bulletin des Luis of 1814, the letters of nobility granted to the family of Cadoudal, and the ordinances prescribing the erection of statues to Moreau and Pichegru. The Peace of Tilsit comducted all the Bourbons to England. It is useless to enter into details of the residence of Louis XVIIl. at Hartwell. It is enough to notice, en passant, the gratitude which this Piince has displayed for the services performed for him by the LOUIS THE EIGHTEENTH. English Government. The faJl of Napoleon having esta- lilished Louis XVIII. on the throne of France, he go- verned it in 1814 with all the folly of concealed liatred. He deserved the character that " he had forgotten nothing and learnt nothing." The return of Buonaparte from the island of Elba made the Monarch and Conrl vanish in the twinkling of an eye, and the Bourbons were forced to beg in foreign countries for the second time. On his return after the battle of Waterloo, under the protection of English and Prussian bayonets, Louis XVsII. gave himself up to all his natural cruelty. No longer afraid, he indulged in his desire of vengeance without restraint. T>iey and Labedoyere preceded numerous other illustrious victims in their descent to (he tomb. The famous poet, Chenier, said of Louis XVIil. that he was Tiberius without his courage; and the 20th of March, and the vengeance of 1815, have demonstrated the correctness of this judgment. A trait in the character of this Prince, which also belongs to the family of the Hourbons, is, that he had always a favourite, such as M. M. d'Avaray, de Jaucourt, de Blacas, de Caze. The latter, however, should not be included altogether among the favourites, for his rise was the consequence of an event which deserves to be recorded. When Courtoir, the Conventionalist, died in 1818, M. de Caze, who knew that this man possessed on autograph correspondence of Louis X^TII. with Robe.spierre, repaired to his house and took possession of it in his capacity of Minister of Police. He acquired by this a claim on the gratitude of the King, and a means of keeping him in dependence. This is the true cause of the elevation of this parveiui, who was not worthy, either by his talents or the services he has performed, of the high oflices he tilled. The King's reign has lasted ten years, during the greater part of which time there have not been ajy re- markable events, and France has remained in a state of political abjectness, which places it in the third rank among tlie povV-ers of Europe. This period has all been LoUIS THE EIGHTEENTH. occupied by miserable Court iutrigues ; and even the expedition to Spain was a sort of jugglery that moves our pity. An irrefragable proof of the feebleness of mind of Louis XVIII. is to bo found in the hatred which he always cherished against the weakest of his enemies. Arnault, the Poet, ihe author of" Marias etMinturnus," a tragedy, was formerly a Member of his Household, when he was only Monsieur. He joined the party of the Revolutionists with zeal, and for this Louis XVIIT. never forgave him. At the first restoration he caused Arnault to be erased from the Institute, contrary to all the precedents and customs of the French Academy ; and at the second he included him in one of the two lists ofProscriplionsofJuly24, 1815. This Sovereign was, in his natural disposition, full of vanity and ostentation. He liked to pass for a man of erudition, which exposed him several times to disagree- able circumstances, particularly once at Hartwell, where lie quoted, with great emphasis, a verse of Persius, and attributed it to Juvenal. The Marquess of S y, an emigrant and an elegant latin scholar, pointed out the mistake of the well-beloved Monarch, and the next day brought a Persius to confirm the assertion he had made. The anger of Louis, and his hatred for the too correct Marquess, may be easily imagined. Louis was not famous for his courage, and though he constantly made B great parade with the names of Louis XIV. and Henry IV. there is no instance on record of his ever exposing himself to danger. Being as yet only Mcnskur, the late King was anxious to obtain the palm for dramatic composition : he wrote the " Marriage Secret," a comedy of three acts, in verse ; and in 1814, several political articles, which were in- serted in the Journal de Paris, but they were feeble, and without effect. Louis XVni. was, for a long period, a prey to serious infirmities. A dry erisypelas on both his legs deprived him of the power of locomotion. The attention of the LOUIS THE EIGHTEENTH. most skilful pliysicians prolonged his life beyond the period which seemed indicated by his disease. During all this time, the King had the greatest confidence in medicine. The enormous appetite he possessed was an extraordinary circumstance. He ate with voracity, and without suffering inconvenience from it, which often gave rise to some laughable stories. He was known to have had three mistresses, or, at least, there have been three ladies who have enjoyed this title. Before the Revolution, Madame de Balby ; since the Restoration, Madame Princetot, M. Decaze's sister ; and, finally, the celebrated Madam du Cayla, the daughter of M. Talon, Presidenla Mortier of the parliament of Paris, Avho possessed the papers of Maria Antoinette ; part of these she sold to Buonaparte in 1812, and which ap- peared in the iVfo?«fc«r of that year. The remainder she took care of, and sold to Louis XVIII. who, in return, overwhelmed her with favours. The decomposition of the blood, and an asdematons state brought on a paralysis of the lower extremities, which were struck with death. The disease made a rapid progress, and the King expired on the morning of Thursday, September 16, 1824, in his 69th year. He carried with him to the tomb the reputation of being timid and insincere. All his proceedings bear the character of weakness and vanity. He married in 1771, Marie Josephine, of Savoy, born September 2, 1752. She died at London, in 1810, Queen of France. She was three years older than himself, and by her he had no children. SSIKSSL^ISIj ®3EATS"®Sr, MICHAEL DRAYTON. When we have named Chaucer, Spenser, Shakspeare, Jonson, Fletcher, Milton, Dryden, and Pope, it is ge- nerally imagined that all our first-rate deceased Poets have been enumerated. This is a mistake : Drayton should, undoubtedly, be inserted, chronologically, be- tween Spenser and Shakspeare ; both of whom he, in some instances, excels. He was descended from an ancient and worthy family, originally of the town of Drayton, in Leicestershire, which gave name to his ancestors ; but his parents removing into the bordering county, he was born at the village of Harshull, or Hartshill, in the parish of Ather- ston in Warwickshire, in the year 1563. He gave such early tokens of genius, and was of so engaging an aspect, sweet a temper, and graceful a deportment, as not only to render him the delight of his instructors, but also to be the means of his preferment ; for, before he was ten years of age, as he himself informs us, he appears to have been page to some person of distinction ; to have " marveiVd" at the idea of, and vehemently to have desired to be, a Poet. " fi'om my cradle • 1 Was still inclined to noble Poesie, And when that once Pueriles I had read. And newly had my Cato construed. In my small selfe I greatly marveil'd then, Amongst all other, what strraigekind of men These Poets were ; and iileascd with the jjame. To my niilde Tutor merrily I came, (For I was then a proper goodly page. Much like a Pigmy, scarce ten yearee of age; 73. MICHAEL DRAYTON. Clasping my slender armos about his thigh, O my deare master ! cannot you (quoth I) Make me a Poet ; doe it, if you can, And you ehall see, I'll quickly be a man." Elhgibs, Foliol627. From some lines bj his intimate acquaintance. Sir Aston Cokain, we learn tbat he was a student at the University of Oxford, by the support, as it is said, of Sir Henry Goodere ; though it does not appear that he took any degree there. It has been suggested, from a passage in the third book of his poem on " Moses his Birth and Miracles," descriptive of the Spanish Armada in 1588, tbat he might possibly have been at Dover at that critical period, in a military capacity ; be that as it may, it is certain that he had seduloasly cherished and cultivated his propensity and talent for poetry, in which he became eminent ten years before the death of Queen Elizabeth, In 1593 he published a collection of Pastorals, &o. and, soon after, his Barons Wars ; England's Heroical Epistles ; The Legends of Robert, Duka of Normandy ; Matilda; Pierce Gavestun ; and Great Crotnwdl: lor which latter pieces he is slyled by a contemporary, Tragccdiographus. Part of his Poly-Olbion, the first eighteen songs of which were not published till 1613, is said to have been written before 1593. For these admirable prodactions, and Lis personal deserts, he was highly celebrated, not only as a great genius, but a good man ; not only for the sweetness and elegance of his words, but of his actions and manners ; for his humane and honourable principles, as well as his refined and polite parts. The Poly-Olbion he enlarged by the addition of twelve songs, and it was published complete in 1622. The curious and important geographical descriptions with which this singular and noble poem abounds, will furnish much information to every antiquary who has a 1 MICHAIL DKAYTON. regard for his country ; bis great display of knowIt;dgc and observation in both political and natural history, cannot fail to please, if not instruct, every researcher into those departments of science ^ and the general strain of benevolence which pervades his works, endears him to readers of every class : thus was he characterised, not only by Poets, or the more florid and panegyrical writers of his time, but also by Divines, Historians, and other scholars of the most serious and solid learning. On subjects connected with Scripture very few have, in any degree, succeeded ; there Milton reigns unrivalled ! yet there is much real poetry and true sublimity in Drayton's David and Goliah, The Flood, and The Birth of Moses. But it is in the Pastoral and Fairy styles of writing that Drayton eminently excels — may I be bold enough to say? — every other English poet, ancient or modern! Withers and William Browne approach him nearest in the former, Shakspcare in the latter ; Spenser and Gay follow Withers and Browne : Ambrose Phillips and Pope bring up the rear. Dramatic Pastoral is not here adverted to ; if it were, Jonson's Sad Shepherd, and Fletcher's Faithful Shepherdess might, like the first created pair, walk hand in hand, with simple majesty, as paramount to all ! Drayton's earliest patron, of whom we have any infor- mation, was Sir Henry Goodere, of Polesworth ; Sir Walter Aston, ofTixhall, in Statioidshire, was also his long and approved friend, to whom many of his choicest productions are most gratefully dedicated. On the accession of King James to the throne of England (to which Drayton had been, perhaps, in some degree instrumental), he felicitated that first monarch of Great Britain on the occasion, by '• A Congralulatmij Poem to King James, 6^c. 4to. 1603," which, in the Pre - face to his Poly-Olbiun, and elsewhere, he hints to us, ho was but ill-requited for. In the same year he was chosen by Sir Walter Aston, one of the Esquires who attended him when he was created Knight of the Bath at the coro" MICHAEL DRAYTON. Draylon;" and tradition Las named kim as the AulLor of the following Epitaph, copied literatim from the monu- ment in Westminster Abbey, where our Poet was buried. • •' Michaell Draiton, Esq. a memorable Poet of this Age, ex- changed his laurell for a Crowue of Glorye, anno domini 1631 : Doe, pious marble, let thy readets knowe What they, and what their children owe To Draiton's name, whose sacred dust Wee recommend unto thy Trust: Protect his mem'ry, and preserve his storye : Remain a lasting monument of his glorye; And when thyruines shall disclame To be the treas'rer of his Name ; His Name, that cannot fade, shall be An everlasting Monument to thee." S2IE ssAs^s mi^s-®^. SIR ISAAC NEWTON, One of the greatest mathematicians and philosophers that ever lived, was born on Christmas Day, 1642, in Lincolnshire. Having made some proficiency in the classics, &c. at the grammai* school at Grantham, he (being an only child) w^as taken home by his mother,-* who was a widow, to be her company, and to learn the management of his paternal estate : bat the love of books and study occasioned his farming concerns to be neglected. In 1660 he was sent "to Trinity College, Cambridge : here he began with the study of Euclid, but the propositions of that book being too easy to arrest his attention long, he passed rapidly on to the Analysis of Des Cartes, Kepler's Optics, &c. making occasional improvements on his author, and entering his obser- vations, &c. on the margin. His genius and attention soon attracted the favourable notice of Dr. Barrow, at that time one of the most eminent mathematicians in England, who soon became his steady patron and friend. In 1664 he took his degree of B. A. and employed himself in speculations and experiments on the nature of light and colours, grinding and polishing optic glasses, and opening the way for his new method of fluxions and infinite series. The next year, the plague which raged at Cambridge obliged him to retire into the country ; here he laid the foundation of his universal system of gravitation, the first hint of which he received from seeing an apple fall from a tree ; and subsequent reason- ing induced him to conclude, that the same force which brought down the apple might possibly extend to the moon, and retain her in her orbit. He afterwards ex- tended the doctrine to all the bodies which compose the 74. SIR ISAAC NEWTON. solar system, and demonstrated the same in the most evident manner, confirming the laws which Kepler had discovered, hy a laborious train of observation and reasoning ; namely, that " the planets move in elliptical orbits," that " they describe equal areas in equal times ;'' and that the squares of their periodic times are as the cubes of their distances. Every part of natural philo- sophy not only received improvement by his inimitable touch, but became a new science under his hand : bis system of gravitation, as we have observed, confirmed the discoveries of Kepler, explained the immutable laws of nature, changed the system of Copernicus from a probable hypothesis to a plain and demonstrated truth, and effectually overturned the vortices and other imagi- nary machinery of Des Cartes, with all the improbable epicycles, deferents, and clumsy apparatus, with which the ancients and some of the moderns bad encumbered the universe. In fact, his Philosophic^ Naturalis Prin- cipia Mathematica contains an entirely new system of philosophy, built on the solid basis of experiment and observation, and demonstrated by the most sublime Geometry ; and his treatises and papers on optics supply a new theory of light and colours. The invention of the reflecting telescope, which is due to Mr. James Gregory, •would in all probability have been lost, had not Newton interposed, and by bis great improvemeots brought it forward into public notice. In 1667, Newton was chosen fellow of his College, and took his degree of M. A. Two years after, his friend Dr. Barrow resigned to him the mathematical chair ; he became a member of parliament in 1688 ; and through the interest of Mr. Montagu, Chancellor of the Exche- quer, who had been educated with him at Trinity Col- lege, our author obtained, in 1696, the appointment of Warden, and three years after that of Master, of the Mint : in 1671, he was elected a fellow of the Royal So- ciety ; in 1699, member of the Royal Academy of Sci- ences at Paris ; and in 1703, President of the Royal Society, a situation which he filled during the remainder SIR ISAAC NEWTON. of his life, with no less honour to himself than benefit to the interests of science. In 1705, in consideration of his superior merit, Queen Anne conferred on him the honour of knighthood. For some years prior to his death, he was troubled with an incontinence of urine. On Saturday morning, March 11, 1727, he read the newspapers, and discoursed a long time with Dr. Mead, his physician, having then the perfect use of all his senses and his understanding; but that night he lost them all, and not recovering them afterwards, died on the Monday following, March 20, 1727, in his 85th year. This illustrious philosopher's illness was supposed to be occasioned bj a stone in the bladder, which at times was attended with such paroxysms of pain, as to cause large drops of sweat to run down his cheeks. During these attacks, he was never heard to utter the least com- plaint. His corpse lay in state in the Jerusalem Cham- ber, and on the 28th was conveyed into Westminster Abbey, the lord chancellor, the dukes of Montrose and Roxburg, and the earls of Pembroke, Sussex and Mac- clesfield, holding up the pall. He was interred near the entrance into the choir on the left hand, where a stately monument is erected to his memory with the following inscription, written by Pope : ISAACUS NEWTONIUS Quem Immortalem Testantur, Tempui, Natura, Coelum : Mortalem Hoc marmor fatetur. Nature, and Nature's laws, lay hid in night, God said let Newton be! and all was light 1 This grand and expressive monument is every way wor- thy of the great man to whose memory it was erected, who is sculptured recumbent, leaning his right arm on four folios, thus titled, Divinity, Chronology, Opticks and SIR ISAAC NEWTON, Phil. Prin. Math., and pointing to a scroll snpported by winged cherubs: over him is a large globe, projecting from a pyramid behind, whereon is delineated the course 'of the comet in 1680, with the signs, constellations and planets. On this globe sits the figure of Astronomy, with her book closed, and in a very thoughtful, composed and pensive mood. Underneath the principal figure is a most curious has relief, representing the various labours in which Sir Isaac chiefly employed his time : such as discovering the canse of gravitation, settling the prin- ciples of light and colours, and reducing the coinage to a determined standard. The devise of weighing the sun by the steelyard, has been thought at once bold and striking, — and indeed the whole monument does honour to the sculptor. VVhat reason mortals had to pride themselves in the existence of such and so great an ornament to the haman race ! Sir Isaac Newton was of a middling stature, and somewhat inclined to be fat in the latter part of his life. His countenance was pleasing and venerable at the same time, especially when he look off bis peruke, and shewed his white hair, which was pretty thick. He never made use of spectacles, and lost but one tooth during his whole life. Bishop Atterbury says, that in the whole air of Sir Isaac's face and make, there was nothing of that penetrating sagacity which appears in his com- positions ; that he had something rather languid in his look and manner, which did not raise any great ex- pectation in those who did not know him. He was of a very meek disposition, and a great lover of peace ; he would rather have chosen to remain in obscu- rity than to have the calm of life ruffled by those storms and disputes which genius and learning always draw upon those that are too eminent for them. In contem- plating his genius, it becomes a dgubt which of these endowments had the greatest share — sagacity, penetra- tion, strength, or diligence; and after all, the ninrk that seems most to distinguish it is, that he himself made ilR ISAAC NEWTON. the justest estimate of it, declaring, that If he had done the world any service, it was due to nothing but industry and patient thought ; that he kept the subject under con- sideration constantly before hira, and waited till the first dawning opened gradually, by little and little, into a full and clear light. He never talked either of himself, or others, or ever behaved in such a manner as to give the most raalicioBS ceusurers the least occasion ever to sus- pect him of vanity. He was candid and affable, and always put himself upon a level with his company. He uever thought either his merit or his reputation sufficient to excuse him from any of the common offices of social life ; no singularities, either natural or affected, dis- tinguished him from other men. He is represented as an Arian by Whiston, who, however, tells us, that he was so angry with him, that he would never suflfer him to enter as a member of the Royal Society while he sat at the head of it. Amidst the great variety of books which he had constantly before him, that which he studied with the greatest application was the " Bible." He did not neglect the opportunities of doing good when the revenues of his patrimony and a profitable employment, improved by a prudent economy, put it in his power. When decency upon any occasion required expense and show, he was magnificent without grudging it, and with a very good grace ; at all other times, that pomp, which seems great to low minds only, was utterly retrenched, and the expense reserved for better uses. He never married, and perhaps he never had leisure to think of it. Being immured in pro- found studies during the prime of his life, and afterwards engaged in an employment of great importance, as well as quite taken up with the company which his celebrity drew to him, he was not sensible of any vacancy of life, nor of the want of a companion at home. He left 32,000^ at his death, but made no will, which Fontenelle tells us was because he thought a legacy was no gift. As to his works, besides \vhat were published in his life-time, there were found, after his death, among his papers, several discourses upon the subjects of antiquity, history. SIR ISAAC NEWTON. divinity, and mathematics. They were collected aiid published in 1784, with a valuable commentary, in 5 volumes, by the Rev. Dr. Horsley, Bishop of Rochester, afterwards of St. Asaph. Sir Isaac Newton, a little before he died, said — " I rdon't know what I may seem to the world ; but as to my- self, I seem to have been only like a boy playing; on the sea-shore, and diverting myself now and then finding a smoother pebble, or a prettier shell than ordinary, whilst the great ocean of truth lay all undiscovered before me." The house in which Sir Isaac lived in St. Martin's- street, Leicester Square, is still standing : it is on the east side, and very distinguishable, by the observatory on the top. Dr. Johnson said, ** that if Newton had flourished in ancient Greece, he would have been worshipped as a deity." m^m, :s2i^? iLAwiEmsr®!. giEi3Esni,M,A. THE REV. LAURENCE STERNE, M. A. Was the son of an Irish oflTicer, and born in 1713, in the barracks of Dublin ; but, though nurtured among soldiers, he was a son of the church ; and, if we may take the opi- nion of a bishop on his sermons, not unworthy the title. His great grandfather was an archbishop, and his uncle a prebendary. From school, young Sterne passed to the university, where he spent the usual number of years; he read a good deal, laughed more, and sonielimes took the diver- sion of puzzling his tutors. He left Cambridge with the character of an odd man, who had no harm in him, and who had parts, if he would use them. Upon leaving the university, he was presented with the living of Sutton, on the Forest of Galtrees, a small vicarage in Yorkshire. Here he Avaited patiently till time and chance should raise him to what they pleased. While here, there happened a dispute among some of the superiors of his order, in which Mr. Sterne's friend, one of the best men in the world, was concerned : a person who fdled a lucrative benefice was not satisfied with enjoying it during his own life time, but exerted all his interest to have it entailed upon his wife and son after his decease. Mr. Sterne's friend, who expected the re- version of the living, had not suflieicnt influence to pre- vent the success of his adversary. At ihis critical period, Mr. Sterne attacked the monopolizer in joke, and wrole " The history of a good warm watch-coat, with which the present possessor is not content to cover his own shoulders, unless he can also cut out of it a petticoat fot his wife, and a pair of breeches for his son." What all the serious arguments in the world could not have eft'ected, Sterne's satirical pen brought about. The intended monopolizer sent him word, that if he would suppress the publication of this sarcasm, he would resiga his pretensions to the next candidate. The pamphlet was 75. REV. LAURENCE STERNE. suppressed ; the reversion took place ; and Mr. Sterne was requited, by the interest of his patron, with the pre- bendarjship of York. An incident, much about the same time, contributed exceedingly to establish the reputation of Mr. Sterne's wit. It was this : — He was sitting in the coffee-house at York, when a stranger came in, who gave much offence to the company, consisting chiefly of gentlemen of the gown, by descanting too freely upon religion, and the hypocrisy of the clergy. The young fellow at length ad- dressed himself to Mr. Sterne, asking him what were his sentiments upon the subject ; when, instead of answering him directly, he told him, that " his dog was reckoned one of the most beautiful pointers in the whole county, was very good-natured, but he had an infernal trick whick destroyed all his good qualities. He never sees a cler- gyman (continued Sterne) but he immediately flies at him." "How long may he have had that trick, Sir?" " Ever since he was a puppy." The young man felt the keenness of the satire, turned upon his heels, and left Sterne to triumph. At this time Mr. Sterne was possessed of some good livings, having enjoyed, so early as the year 1745, the vicarage of Sutton, on the Forest of Galtrees, where he usually performed divine service on Sunday mornings ; and in the afternoon he preached at the rectory of Stil- lington, which he held as one of the prebends of York, in which capacity he also assisted regularly, in his turn, at the cathedral. His wit and humour were already greatly admired within the circle of his acquaintance ; but his genius had never yet reached London, when his two first volumes of Tristram Shandy made their appearance : they were printed at York, and proposed to the booksellers there at a very moderate price ; those gentlemen, however, were such judges of their value, that they scarce offered the price of paper and print ; and the work made its way into the world without any of the artifices which are often practised to put off an edition. A large impression being REV. LAURENCE STERNE. almost instantaneously sold, the booksellers were roused from their lethargy, and every one was eager to purchase the second edition of the copy. Mr. Sterne sold it for six hundred pounds, after being refused fifty pounds for the first impression and proprietorship. The publication of these two volumes brought Mr. Sterne into great repute. He was considered as the genius of the age ; his company was equally courted by the great, the literati, the witty, and the gay ; and it was considered as a kind of honour to have passed an evening with the author of Tristram Shandy. Though some of the over rigid clergy condemned this ludicrous performance, and judged it incompatible with that purity and morality which should ever accompany the writings of the gentlemen of the gown ; these censures were far from being universal, even among the clergy; and the acquaintances he made by this publication were, in many respects, advantageous to hiro. Avfiong others, the Earl of Faulconberg so particularly patronized the author of this work, that, to testify his approbation, he presented Mr. Sterne with the rectory of Gaywood, which was an agreeable and convenient addition to his other livings, being all in the neighbourhood of York. His next publication consisted of two volumes of sermons, which the severest critics could not help ap- plauding for the purity and elegance of their style, and the excellence of their moral: the manner in which they- were ushered to public notice was by some severely con- demned ; while others lamented that such excellent dis***? courses should stand in need of such an introduction ; and many are of opinion that he had wrote Tristram Shandy purely to introduce them ; as, in the preface to his sermons, he acquaints the reader, that *' the sermon which gave rise to the publication of these having been offered to the public as a sermon of Yorick's, he hoped the most serious reader would find nothing to ofiend hira in his continuing these two volumes under the same title : lest it should be otherwise, T Lave added a second title- page, with the real name of the author -.—the first will RfcV. LAURENCE STERNtU serve ihe booksellers* purpose, as Yorick's name is p6s* sihij of the two most known ; and the second will ease the minds of those who see a jest, and the danger which lurks under it, where no jest was meant." When the third and fourth volumes of Tristram Shandj made their appearance, the public were not quite so eager in applauding them as they were with respect to the first two volumes ; for some thought the digressions were tedious, and his asterisks too obscure ; and some insinuated that they were too indelicate for the eye of chastitj : he had, nevertheless, a great number of admi- rers ; and he was encouraged to a (ifih and sixth volume. Their satire was stiil poignant, spirited, and, in general, extremely just. His story of Le Fevre was highly finished, and truly pathetic, and would alone rescue his name from oblivion, if his sermons were not considered as some of the best moral discourses extant. He next published his Sentimental Journey, and Let- ters to Eliza. As Mr. Sterne advanced in literary ifame, he left his livings to the care of his curates ; and, though he ac- quired some thousands by his productions, being a cha- racter very distant from an economist, his savings were no greater at the end of the year, than when he had no other support than the single vicarage of Sutton. Indeed his travelling expences abroad, and the luxurious manner in which he lived with the gay and polite at home, greatly promoted the dissipation of a very considerable sum w^ich his writings bad produced, and which might have been a future assistance to his family. This being the case, at his death, his widow and daughter, an agreeable young iady about sixteen, who had both resided for some years in a convent in France, having separated from Mr. Sterne through some pique, which -was differently accounted for by the parties, finding that their pensions must discontinue, returned to England, in order to pub- lish his posthumous works. Being at York during the races, some gentlemen, friends and admirers of the late prebend, took into cousideratioa their disagreeable situ- REV. LAURENCE STERNt. elioB, and made tliem a present of a purse of a thousand pounds. This unexpected and generous supply, added to a very extensive subscription of the nobility and gentry to three additional volumes of sermons, afforded a sufficient provision to enable them to support them- selves in their recluse manner of life, to which they determined to return. As Mr, Sterne has drawn his own character (under the name of Yorick) with great truth and skill ; we here subjoin it : — — " This is all that ever staggered my faith in regard to Yorick's extraction, who, by what I can remember of him, and, by all the accounts I could ever get of him, seemed not to have bad one single drop of Danish blood ill his whole crasis ; in nine hundred years it might pos- sibly have all run out: 1 will not philosophise one moment with you about it ; for, happen how it would, the fact was this : That instead of that cold phlegm and exact regularity of sense and humours jou would have looked for in one so extracted ; he was, on the contrary, as mercurial and sublimated a composition, — • as heteroclite a creature in all his declensions — with as much life and whim, and gaite de cocur about him, as the kindliest climate could have engendered and put to- gether. With all this sail, poor Yorick carried not one ounce of ballast ; he was utterly unpractised in the world ; and, at the age of twenty-six, knew just about as well how to steer his coarse in it, as a romping unsuspicious girl of thirteen : so that, upon his first setting out, the brisk gale of his spirits, as you will imagine, ran him foal, ten times in a day, of somebody's tackling ; and, as the grave and more slow-spaced were oftenest in his way, you may imagine, 'twas with such he generally had the ill luck to get the most entangled. For aught I know, there might be some mixture of unlucky wit at the bottom of such fracas for, to speak the truth, Yorick had an invincible dislike and opposition in his nature to gravity ; not to gravity as such for, where gravity was wanted, he would be the most grave REV. LAURENCE STEilNE. iand serious of mortal men for days and weeks logelhei' ; but he was an enemy to the affectation of it, and declared open war against it, only as it appeared a cloak for ignorance, or for folly ; and then, whenever it fell in his way, however sheltered and protected, he seldom gave it much quarter. " Bat, in plain truth, he was a man unhackneyed and unpractised in the world, and was altogether as indiscreet and foolish on every other subject of discourse, where policy is wont to impress restraint. Yorick had no im- pression but one, and that was what arose from the nature of the deed spoken of; which impression he would usually translate into plain English without any periphra- sis, -and too oft without much distinction of either personage, time or place ; so that when mention was made of a pitiful or an ungenerous proceeding, he never gave himself a moment's time to reflect who was the Hero of the piece what his station or how far he had power to hurt him hereafter ; but, if it was a dirty action, without more ado, the man was a dirty fellow- and so on : And as his comments had usually the ill fate to be terminated either in a bon mot, or to be enlivened throughout with some drollery or humour of expression, it gave wings to Yorick's indis- cretion. In a word, though he never sought, yet, at the same time, as he seldom shunned occasions of saying what came uppermost, and without much ceremony, he had but too many temptations in life of scattering his wit and his humour, his gibes and his jests about him They were not lost for want of gathering." Mr. Sterne died, as he lived, the same indifferent creature, at his lodgings in Bond-street, March 22d, tZ68, and was interred in the burial-ground of St. George, Hanover-square, where a plain flat tomb-stone is placed to his memory. ALAS! POOR YORICK! '^iL'^^Lm^. VOLTAIREo Francois Marie Arouet de Voltaire, Member of the French Academy, and of almost all the academies in Europe, was born in Paris, November 20, 1694. His father, at first notary to the Chatelet, and afterwards treasurer to the Chambre das Comptes, at Paris, was equally respectable for his learning and his ofilce. His mother was the beautiful and accomplished Marie Mar- guerite d'Aumert; a woman worthy of being the mother of the greatf st poet of his age. At the birth of M. de Voltaire, tliough he afterwards attained the age of eighty-four, his life was despaired of, anil having received half baptism, the completion of the ceremony was put oft" for several months. He stammered verses almost as soon as he could speak ; that is, at six years old. Others have rhymed from inclination; he was a poet in spite of himself. He was very early sent as a boarder to the college of Lonis !e Grand, where he began his literary career with uncommon splendour. He gained almost all the prizes, and wrote with equal faci- lity in verse and prose. When of the age of twelve years, he was presented to the celebrated Mademoiselle de 1' Enclos, who, making her will a short time afterwards, bequeathed the young poet a legacy of 2,000 livres (83/. sterling) to buy books. It has been said that this celebrated lady preserved her beanty to the age of eightv. M. de Voltaire says, iu his Defence of jny Uncle, that she v,'as dried up like a mummy. " She was,' adds he, " a wrinkled skeleton, ■with a yellow or almost black skin covering her bcnes." 76. VOLTAIRE. Voltaire refused to concur wilh the wishes of Li^ i>areiits, who had intended him for the bar ; he was, however, sent by his father to study the law, but was so tlisgusted with the manner in which jurisprudence was taught, that he conceived an unconquerable aversion to that science ; and early renounced all his prospects of advancement in that profession, to devote himselt entirely to the study of literature and mankind. As he found it necessary to have some occupation, he attached himselt to the Marquis de Chateauneuf, who, going to the Hague in 1713, took him with him in the quality of page. While in Holland, he became enamoured with the youngest daughter of the celebrated Madame de Noyer ; and he intended stealing her from her mother, and bringing her to Paris ; but this intrigue was discovered, and he was kept close prisoner imthe ambassador's house, where his mi.stress came, disguised in man's clothes, to see him. Voltaire was sent back to his father, to pacify whom, he was obliged to go and board with a lawyer, in order to qualify himself for that profession to which he had been first destined. His mistress afterwards married Monsieur V^interfeld ; but Voltaire had a lasting estetiu and friendship for her. In 1714, M. de %'oltaire, disgusted with the law, again prosecuted his poetical studies ; and experienced all the obstacles which so frequently attend a man of learning and wit. Immediately after the death of Louis XIV. there appeared a little piece, imitated from the J'ai Fil {1 have seen), remarkable for its gross abuse, concluding thns: — " I have seen these evils e'er my twentieth year ;" and as Voltaire was then about twenty years old, it was imagined by hiany he was the author ; and the Regent caused him to be confined in the Bastille in 1718. "While in this prison, it is reported, his tragedy of CEdipus was acted, and that the Duke of Orleans, having seen this piece, was so delighted with it, that he ordered its author to be set at liberty. The confinement in this melancholy mansion was not prejudicial to his talents : he there composed several works, part of which he re- VOLTAIRE. tained iu Lis memory, and wrote the rest on iLe wall:? with a coal, or o» the lead of the windows with the point of a pia. The Henriade was written during this year's imprisonment. Voltaire, having obtained his liberty, was forbidden to appear iu Paris for some time, and exiled to Sulli-sur- Loire. At length, tired of the country, he wrote some verses to the Countess of Thoulouse, that she might inter- cede for him to be permitted to return to Paris. In 1726, being in England, he met with unbounded success and patronage. The publication of a French work, written with freedom, was eagerly promoted. George I., and particularly the Princess of Wales, ob- tained for him a numerous subscription, producing 6,2.50/. This was tlie beginning of his good fortune, which from that time continually increased. This generosity greatly added to the good opinion which Voltaire entertained of the English nation, and he extolled our country in all his writings. He dedicated his Henriade to the queen of England ; and the king sent him a present of two thou- sand crowns : but the work was prosecuted in Paris. The king of Prussia, in 1736, caused an engraved edition of the Henriade, with vignettes at the heads of each page, to be begun in London ; and even wrote a preface to the work. In 1736, he published Le Mondaine, a satire, which contained indecent illusions to the principal persons in the Old Testament. On the work being shewn to Cardi- nal de Fleuri, he condemned it as infamous, and the author was obliged to fly Lis country. His friends, how- ever, shortly appeased the minister, and he was allowed to return to Paris. Voltaire, in order to gain admittance as one of the Academicians, retracted those works he had written, which were the joint produce of impiety and madness : he was elected in 1746 ; but he was very coolly received among the associates, till 1778, when tbings were greatly changed iu Paris, and the academy received him as the father of literature, and he held the sceptre at every njeeting. VOLTAIRE. erected a monumeut of ^lain while stone; Pointing to it he exclaimed, • Nothing hut the inscription is wanting, my Friend.' " I bade him farewell ; he accompanied me to my horse, and wished me an agreeable journey." In February, 1778, Voltaire again visited Paris ; where the eagerness to see him was general : it became a kind of epidemic phrenzy : nothing was talked of but Monsieur de Voltaire. His chief reason of visiting Paris was to have his tragedy of Irene represented ; for he was ardent to prove, by this work, that age had not diminished his poetic fire. He wholly employed himself in declaiming with and instructing the actors who were to perform in his piece, and he did this with so much exertion, that he voraitted blood. This acci- dent soon confined him to his room ; and after much suffering, he died on the 30th of May, 1778, about eleven at night. Much has been written respecting the death of this great dramatic poet and philosopher : all that we can say, is, that it is certain, by the Abbe Gaultier's narra- tive of the death of Voltaire, that he certainly did confess, and prayed that God would take him under his protection, and pardon all his errors. — But this confession was not strong enough for the Archbishop of Paris ', when the Abbe Gaultier went with amended confession, he found Voltaire in such a state of delerium, that he was unable to act ; and he died the next day. The Archbishop refused him the riles of ecclesiastical interment ; but his friends carried his body to Scellieres, an Abbey of the Bernardines, in the diocese of Troyes in Champagne, where his obsequies were celebrated on the ifd of June^ 1778. (Si^i^^iDssrj^L, I'm^mmr, CARDINAL WOLSEY. This celebrated prelate and statesman was born at Ipswich, in March, 1471. A hoase in St. Nicholas's parish is still shewn as his reputed birth-place. His lather, Robert VVolsey, though of mean condition, pos- sessed some property. Persuaded of the genius of his son, he sent him early to Ipswich school, and destined him for {he church. At the age of fifteen he was a student in Oxford, and obtained the degree of bachelor of arts, ■which procured hiui, at the university, the name of the boy bachelor. His industry and parts soon obtained bitn tlie honour of being elected a fellow of Magdalen College, appointed master of the school, and entrusted to educate the sons of t'le marquis of Dorset, who was so pleased with Wolsey's conduct, that he presented him with the rectory of Lymington, in Somersetshire. He shortly after removed from Lymington ; and, at the recommen- dation of archbishop Dean, was nominated one of the chaplains to king Henry VII. On the accession of the eighth Henry, riches atid honours flowed on Wolsey : he received a grant of lands and tenements in London, was admitted to the privy council, and appointed almoner. Soon after, the king gave him the rectory of Torrington ; made him canon of the collegiate church at Windsor ; and registrar of the order of the garter. Bishop Bam- bridge appointed him a prebendary of the cathedral of York (1512). where he was soon advanced to the deanery. In 1.513, on the conquest of Tocrnay, Henry con- ceiving he had a right to dispose of the bishopric, gave it to Wolsey •, and in the same year he was consecrated Bishop of Lincoln. In 1514, he was advanced to the episcopal dignity of Archbishop of York. In tiie forty-fifth year of his age (22d December, 1.515), WoUey was advanced to the rank of Cardinal, and was 77. CARDINAL WOLSEV. liistalled in Westminster Abbey with circumstances of pomp seldom exceeded at coronations of kings. About the same time, the great seal was given to him for life, with the dignity of chancellor of the realm. Henceforth he may be regarded as the dictator of England ; for, although the king appeared personally in every important transaction, the Cardinal bad acquired such an ascendancy, that the emanations of the royal will were, in fact, only the reflected purposes of the minister. On Tournay being restored to t^rance, the Cardinal received a pension of 12,000 livres as an equivalent for the revenues of the bishoprick, which he agreed to resign. On the death of Leo X. Wolsey aspired to the tiara, but as the Italian cardinals had strong objections to him on account of his country and character ; (regarding all foreigners as barbarians ;) and the knowledge they had of his known endeavours to curtail the licentiousness of the clergy, tended to prevent his election. May 26, 1522, he arrived at Dover, and there received the emperor Charles with great pomp ; from whence, in company with Henry VIII. he escorted him to Green- wich, On Whitsunday he went to St. Paul's with the court, and performed the service with a degree of osten- tatious pomp never surpassed by the Popes themselves. Two barons held the basin and towel before the mass ; two earls after the gospels j and two dukes served him at the last lavation. ^ On the accession of Julio di Medici to the see of Rome, he appointed Wolsej legate for life, and conferred on him all the papal pretensions over England which he could alienate. Wolsey was now at the height of all his earthly glory. His house exhibited the finest productions of art: the walls of his chambers were hung with cloth of gold, and tapestry still more precious, representing the most remarkable events in sacred history : his floors were covered with embroidered carpets ; and the sideboards of t^ypress were loaded with vessels of gold. The sons of t))« nobility, according to tke fashion ofthcag«, attended CARDINAL WOLSEY. liira as pages : he bad also always nine or ten lords, \Vbteriz.ed in the poem ; and the " rugged elms," and "yew-tree shade," if ever they existed, are \ THOMA? GRAY. ROW no more.* Some of the sarrounding scenery, how- ever, finely corresponds, particularly to the south park, where the eye is directed over a large sheet of water to the majestic Castle of Windsor, beyond v^hicti Cooper's-hill and the forest woods close the prospect. The burjinf!;-j)lace of the poet is withoutside the cburchj just beneath the eastern window, a spot which had been before consecrated by tlie interment of two of his dearest relatives. Here his remains lay nnlionoured by even the slightest meniorial, until the- year 17 99, when Mr. Penn, the proprietor of Stoke Park adjoining, with a liberality ■which does him great credit, performed the long-neglected task. The monument erected by this gentleman stands in afield next the clinrch, and forms the termination of one of the views from Stoke House. It consists of a large sar- cophagus of stone, supported on a square pedestal, with quotations on three sides, selected from the Ode to Eton College, and t!je Elegy in a Country Church-yard J and on the fourth the following inscription : — ■ This Monument in honour of THOMAS GRAY, Was erceted A, Dl/OD, Among the Scenery Celebrated by that Lyric and Elegiac Poet. He died in 17/1, And lies unnoticed in the adjoining Chuj'ch-yard, Under the tomb-stone on which he piously ^nd pathetically recorded the interment of his Aunt and lamented Mother. Stoke Pogisis a large scattered village about 21 miles from the metroplis, and takes the addition of Pogis to its name from the ancient lords of the manor there. Lord Molines married the heiress of this family in the reign of Edward lU. from w':om it decended to the Hungerford family, who enjoyed it till the reign of Henry VH., when *Save thatfiom yonder ivy-iiiantled tower. The moping owl does to the moon complain, Of such as wandering near her seciet bower. Molest her ancient solitary reign. Beneath those rug-ged elms, that yew-tree shade, Where heaves the turf in many a mouldering heap, Each in his narrow cell for ever laid. The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep. THOMAS «RAY. Iiy Ihe intermarriage of Edward, sole heir and successor to Lord Hastings (immortalized by Shakspeare in his play of Richard III.), with the heiress of Sir Thomas Hunger- ford, it became that Nobleman's property. From bim it descended to Sir Edward Coke, the great lawyer, who entertained Queen Elizabeth here in 1601, and died at the manor-house in 1634. Tt afterwards became the seat of Anne Viscountess Cobham, on whose death it was purchased by Mr Wiiliam Penn, . chief proprietor of Pennsylvania, in America, whose grandson, John Penn, Esq. (esector of the raon'.'.ment alluded to) has built on the site of the ancient mansion one of the most elegant residences in this part of the country. In Lady Cobhara's time. Gray, whose aunt resided in this village, often visited Stoke Park, and in 1747 made it the scene of his poem called The Long Story. The old manor-house (built by Henry, third Earl of Huntingdon, in the reign of Elizaloeth, and afterwards inhabited by Lord Chancellor Hatton) and the fantastic manners of that Princess's reign, are thus humourously described in the opening of this piece ; — In Britain's isle, no matter where. An ancient pile of building stands; The Huntin'j,dnns and Hatlons there Employ the power of fairy hands ; To raise the ceilings fretted height, Each pannel in atchievements cloathing. Rich windows that exclude the light. And passages that lead to nothing. Full oft within the spacious walls, When he had lifty winters o'er him. My grave Lord Keeper* led the brawls ; The seals and maces danced before him. His bushy beard, and shoe-strings green. His high crtiwned hat and satin doublet. Moved the stout heai t of England's Queen, Though Pope and Spaniard could not trouble it. • Sir Chi-istopher Hatton, promoted by Queen Elizabeth for his graceful I'crson, and tine dancing. Brawls were a sort of figure' dance then in fashion, an.l probably deemed as elegant as our modern cotillions, or still more modern quadrilles. & III 11 11 Hi 111 III mm^ ®2f ^®^2Ec PRINCE FREDERICK, DUKE OF YORK and ALBANY, In Great Britain, and Earl of Ulster, in Ireland; L.L.D. F.R.S. ; Presumptive Heir to the Throne of Great Britain ; a Field Marshal ; Commander in Chief of all the King's Land Forces in the United Kingdom ; Colonel of the First Regiment of Foot Guards ; Colonel in Chief of the Sixtieth, or Royal American Regiment of Foot, and of the Royal Dublin Regiment of Infantry ; Ranger of St. James's and Hyde Parks ; Warden and Keeper of New Forest, Hampshire; &c. &c. &c. am a soldier, too, and will abide it with a Prince'.* courage." His Royal Highness was born 16th of August, 176" ; and was elected Bishop of Osnaburg, February "27, 1764. At a Chapter of the Bath, held 30th of December, 1767, he was invested with the ensigns of that most honourable order, and installed in Henry the Vllth's chapel, as first and principal companion, 15th of June, 1772. He was elected a companion of the most noble order of the garter, 19th June, 1771, and installed at Windsor the 25th of the same month. On the 27th of November, 1784, he was created Duke of York and Albany in Great Britain, and Earl of Ulster, in Ireland. With the exception of the duel between the Duke of York and Colonel Lenox, on the 27th of May, 1789, little can be recorded of his Royal Highness until his marriage with the Princess F'rederica Charlotta Ulrica, which took place with great pomp at Berlin, on the 29th 80. DUKE OF YORK. of September, 1791. The royal pair, after sojourning some time at Hanover, arrived in England on the 19th of November in the same year ; and on the 23d of the same month were re-married at the Queen's house, St. James's Park : the ceremony was performed by the Archbishop of Canterbury, assisted by the Bishop of London. Her Royal Highness was born May 7, 1767, and was the eldest daughter of the late, and sister to the present, King of Prussia : her stature was somewhat below the common height, and her figure formed in proportionate delicacy and slightness. Her complexion was fair ; her hair light ; her eye-lashes long and nearly white ; and her eyes blue. By this Princess, who was a most exemplary lady, his Royal Highness had no issue. On the 19th of December, 1791, the Duke and Duchess of York received the congratulations of the Lord Mayor, Sheriffs, and Common Council of the City of Loudon, on their marriage ; to which his Royal Highness returned the following answer : — " I return you my most hearty thanks for this address, so full of sentiments of attachment to the House of Bruns- wick and to me. " Your expressions of joy on the occasion of my mar- riage give me the highest satisfaction, and the City of London may lely on my unabating zeal for their welfare and prosperity, and on my constant endeavours to preserve their affection and regard." His Royal Highness was now to be called into actual and severe public service ; for, on the commencement of the war with France, he was ordered to be in readiness to repair with the British troops to Holland ; and embarked with them on the 26th of February, 1793. On the 4th of September of the same year, he was defeated by the French, near Dunkirk. During the remainder of this year his Royal Highness was with his array ; nothing particular transpiring till the 3d of May, 1794, when the French attacked him, but were repulsed : the enemy, however, soon again appeared in tlie field, and gave a second battle to the Duke of York's forces at Turcoign, whom they DUKE OF YORK. defeated with great slaughter. His Royal Highness now retreated to Flanders, where he was soon joined by the Earl of Moira and additional forces. On the l7th of September, in the same year, the Duke was defeated at Boxtet, and on this disaster, cominenced, on the 21st, his retreat over the Maese. On the i6th of February, 1795, he had the misfortune to lose all his magazines, which were captured by the French, and shortly after arrived in England. On the 13th of September, 1799, the Duke of York, with 17,000 Russians, landed in Holland ; where, on the 19th of the same month, the allies were defeated at the battle of Bergen and Alkniaer, with the loss of 7,000 men under Le Bruu, who was formerly a barber at Paris. On the 2d of October following they v/ere again defeated before Alkmaer, Avith the loss of 5,000 men ; and, on the 20th, the Duke of York entered into a convention, by which he was allowed to exchange his army for 6,000 French and Dutch prisoners in England. Accordiugly, his Royal Highness returned to England. Towards the close of the year 1808, allegations of the most serious nature were openly made against the Duke of York, and reflected too severely on his Royal Highness to pass unnoticed ; and, on the meeting of parliament in 1809, no time was lost in pressing a subject of such high importance on its attention. Accordingly, on the 27th of January, Colonel Wardle, one of the members for Oak- hampton, submitted a motion to the House on the subject of his Royal Highness the Duke of York, Commander in Chief, respecting promotions, the disposal of commissions, and the raising of new levies for the army : which engaged the most serious consideration of the legislative assembly of the nation, from the 1st of February till the 20th of March following, when the Chancellor of the Exchecquer moved the following resolution : — " That it is the opinion of this House, after the fullest and most attentive examination of all the evidence adduced, that there is no ground for charging his Royal Highness with personal corruption or connivance at such practices DUKE OF York. disclosed In the testimony beard at the bar ;" on which the House divided : Ayes, 278— Noes, 1 96— Majority, 82. On Saturday, March 18, his Royal Highness waited upon his Majesty, and tendered to him his resignation of the chief command of his Majesty's army ; which his Majesty was graciously pleased to accept. Sir Laurence Dundas succeeded his Royal Highness in the command of the army ; but he held the appointment a very short time, for the King re-instated the Duke of York again, to the joy of the British anny. On the death of his royal mother, he was appointed by Parliament custos to the King, instead of the Queen, with an allowance of 10,000/. per annum. In the year 1820 he had the misfortune to lose his Duchess, Avho died at Oatlands, in the 54th year of her age. She was a lady deservedly respected by all classes, especially by the poor, to whom she was very kind and attentive : she lived very retired, her chief amusement being in her dogs ; and the grounds at Oatlands display some curious monumental inscriptions to her favourite quadrupeds. The British army, under the direction of his Royal Highness, has risen to a state of discipline and neatness hitherto unknown in England : his attention to their cares, and readiness at all tiines to relieve their wants, has en- deared him to every British soldier ; certainly never was a Commander in Chief more deservedly, or more generally, popular. His Royal Highness is devotedly attached to the Pro- testant religion ; and to him, we believe, the inembers of that persuasion look up as one of their firmest fiiends. To the sports of the field the Duke is very partial ; particu- larly shooting, and racing, having to boasi of some of the first racers in the kingdom. DUKE OF YORK. The following account of ihe Earls and Dukes of f' are lessons of political wisdom, not party or personal invectives — " Calm as the fields of heaven his sapient eye." This philosophic habit of contemplation and reasoning may be regarded as a happy qiialihcation for the historian of England, in a period peculiarly distracted by party contests. The Whigs ruled from the Revolution of England to the Revolution of France, with some slight exceptions. The historian of the great events of those times ought, perhaps, to be friendly to that dethroned party ; but he ought to be free from the dominion of prejudice, animosity, and bigotry. Mr. Hume is justly charged with a violent Tory bias ; his successor cannot reasonably be suspected of any violent bias. '^mr^^sms) ^^rn^rn. ^/W' (P.^y<>u/^/4/'r..-^, with others many, th' other won The attribute o^ peerless ; being a man Whom we may rank with (doing no one wrong) Px'oteus for shapes, and Roscius for a tongue : So could he speak, so vary." The character of Barabas, the Jew of ?/Ia}ta, is a capi- tal one ; and to liav6 gained the addition of peerless by the perforniance of it, the actor must have been gifteil with super-eminent powers. — Ben Jonson, who was sel- * Marlow. t Allovn. 81. EDWARD ALLEYi^. dom lavish of his praises, thus speaks of Alleyo, in his 89th epigram. " If Rome so great, and in her wisest age, Fear'd not to boast the glories of her stage. As skilful Roscius, and grave ^sop, men Yet crown'd with honours, as with riches then j Who had no less a trumpet of their name Than Cicero, whose ev'ry breath was fame : How can so great example die in me, That, Allen, I should pause to publish thee ? Who both their graces in thyself hast more Outstript, than they did all that went before : And present worth in all dost so contract, As others speak, but only thou dost act. Wear, this renown, 'tis just, that who did give So many poets life, by one should live." From a memorandum in his o^vn hand-writing now ex- lant, it appears, that Alleyn was born September 1, 1566, near Devonshire House, in the parish of St. Botolph, without Bishopsgate : he roust therefore have applied liimself very early to the Drama, to have reached the degree of perfection ascribed to him before Marlow's death : possibly he was, like Field, Pavy, &c. trained to it from his childhood. That he had a fine person, and an ex- pressive countenance, his portrait, still existing, evinces ; the other necessary endowments of genius, voice, feeling, &c. we may conclude him to have been possessed of from the following extract. In some MSS. of the Lord Keeper Puckering, in the Harleian Library, a writer of that age, speaking of Alleyn about the period of his zenith, says, that " he had then so captivated the town, and so mono- polized the favour of his audience by those agreeable va- rieties he could so readily command, in his voice, coun- tenance, and gesture, and so judiciously adapt to the characters he played, as even to animate the most lifeless compositions, and so highly improve them, that he wholly engaged those who heard and saw him, from considering i liDVVAUD ALLEYN. the propriety of the sentiments he pronounced, or of the parts he personated ; and all the defects of the poet were either beautified, palliated or atoned for, by the perfec- tions of the player." But the highest praise due to this great and good man is, that having acquired a very considerable property by his acting ; the profits of his theatre, called The Fortune, in Whitecross-street ; his post of Keeper of the King's Wild Beasts, or Master of the Royal Bear-Garden ; to- gether with the dowry of two wives j he appropriated nearly the whole of it to the building and endowment of a college at Dulwich, called The College of God's Gift ; of which munificence the following pious memorial, in his own hand- writing, was found among his papers. " May SJ6, 1620, my wife and I acknowledge the fine at the Common-Pleas bar, of all our lands to the college : blessed be God, that hath given us life to do it." Prynne, in his Histrio-Mastix, says, the Fortune was burnt to the ground by some accident, which I suppose he thought a judgment, as all fanatical writers generally do. The Globe play-house, situate on the Bankside, which was thatched with reeds, was also burnt down in 1613; and by the fall of the play-house in Black-Fryers, August, 1623, eighty-one persons of quality were killed. The following are the names of our earliest plaj'-houses. The Theatre; The Curtain ; The Cockpit ^ or Phcenix ; The Swan ; The Rose ; The Hope,* In the reign of Charles I. there were six play-houses allowed in town ; the Black Fryars company, his majesty's sei-vants ; the Bull, in St. John's Street; the Foitune; another at the Globe ; and a sixth at the Coek-pit in Drury Lane ; all which continued acting till the beginning of the Civil Wars.t The scattered renmant of several of these * See Malone's Shakspeare, t The fanatical zeal of the Nonconformists could bear no ex- hibitions or shows but their own : all staj^e-players these religion- ists looked upon as prolane; and devoted the actors, whom they denominated the children of Satan, to perdition. In Randolph's Muses Looking Glass, 16o0, is the following humourous dialogue EDVt'ARD ALLEVN, houses, upon Kiug Charles's restoration, framed a com- pany who again acted at the Bull, and built them a new house in Gibbon's Tennis Court, in Clare Market ; in which two places, they continued acting in 1660, 1661, 166'2, and part of 1663. In this time, they built a new Theatre in Drury Lane, which opened on the 8th of April, 1663, with the Humorous Lieutenant. The price of admission to the Globe, was one shilling to the boxes, and sixpence to the pit ; and a mention is made, in Beaumont and Fletcher's Woman Hater, of a two-penny gallery. Seats of three-pence and a groat are also mentioned ; and afterwards, to some of the houses, the prices were from six-pence to two shillings and six- pence. The custom of playing in Inn Yards, is illustrated by two orders of Privy Council ia 1557, preserved, with other niinutes, among the Harieian manuscripts, at the British Museum. The first, dated September, from St. James's, is noticed, as " a letter to the Lord Maiore of London, to give order, that some of his olHceres doe forth- with repaire to the Bores Head, without Aldgate,* where the Lordes are informed a lewde play, called ' A sack full of Newxe' shall be plaied this day, the plaieres wliereof he is willed to apprehend, aiid to commit to safewarde, untiil he shall heare further from hence, and to take theire play- between Bird, a feather-mau, and Mrs. Flowrdew, two of the sanctified fraternity. " Flow. It was a zealous prayer 1 heard a broker make con- cerning play-houses. Bird. For Charity was it? Fhw. That the Gl-jle Wherein (quotli he) reigns a whole world of vice. Had been consumed! The Ph(enijc burnt to aslies; The Fortave whipt for a blind w : Blackfriars He wonders how he Kca;)'d demolishinj^ 1' th' lime of reformation : lastly he wislied The Bull might crusse the Thames to the Bear Garden, And there be soundly baited ! Bird. A good prayer !" * Now tiie Blue Doa; Inn. EDWARD ALLEYN. booke from ihem, and to send the same Ijether.'^ The next is a letter, seut on the following day, to the same magistrate, " willinge him to sett at libertie the playeres by him apprehended by order from hence yesterdaye, and to give them and all otheres, playeres, throughout the cittie, in commandment and charge, not to playe any playes but between the Feast of All Saints and Shroftyde, and then only such [as] are scene and allov^ed by the Ordinarje." In the reign of Elizabeth, the acting of plays was chieily confined to Sundays, the hours of prayer being excepted. In 1598, one u Cluck was the usual hour at which the play begun ; but in 1609, it was thrown back to three. The usual time consumed in the exhibition, was usually two hours, as appears from a passage in the prologue to Shakspeare's Henry "VIII. ■ " Those that come — I'll undertake, may see away their shillwg Richly in two short hours." Haywood,* in his Actors Vindication, commending many deceased players, concludes thus : " Among so many dead, let me not forget the most worthy, famous Mr. Ed- ward Allen, who in his life-time erected a colledge at Dulledge for Poor People, and for Education of Youth : When this Colledge was tinisht, this famous man was so mingled with humility and charity, that he became his own pensioner ; humbly submitting himself to that pro- portion of diet and cloathes, which he had bestowed on others." Dulwich College was founded for a master and warden, who are always to be of the name of Alieyn or Allen, with lour fellows, three of whom were to be divines, and the fourth an organist ; and for six poor men, as many poor * Heywood was a jester to Henry VIII, but who lived till tlie beginning of Elizabeth's reign, and was one of the earliest dra- matic writers EDWARD ALLEYN. \vomen, and twelve boys, to be educated in the College bj one of the fellows as school-master, and by another as usher. To this College belongs a chapel, in which the founder himself, who was several years master, lies buried. The master of the College is lord of the manor for a considerable extent of ground. Both he and the warden must be unmarried, and are for ever debarred the privilege of entering into that state, on pain of being excluded the College. The original edifice, which was begun about the year 1614, after a plan of Inigo Jones, is in the old taste, and contains the chapel, master's apartment, &c. in the front, and the lodgings of other inhabitants in the wings, whereof that on the east side was handsomely new built in 1739 at the expense of the College. The library once possessed a valuable collection of old plays, the gift of AVilliam Cartwright, the comedian, an acquaintance of the founder's. Not far from the library is a gallery, containing 350 pictures, which were bequeathed by Sir Francis Bourgeois : it contains, besides, some of the finest specimens by Cuyp, Claude, Titian, and Vandyke ; a curious View of London in 1603, with the representation of the city procession on the Lord Mayor's day ; portraits of Mary Queen of Scots, Sir Thomas Gresham, Sec. &c. The College is accommodated with a very pleasant garden, adorned with walks and a profusion of fruit trees. Over the entrance is a latin inscription, stating the nature of the charity, and by whom foimded. He died November 25, 1626, in the sixty-first year of Lis age ; and was interred in the chapel of his own college. The conclusion to be drawn from the life of this admir- able actor and excellent man is, that, however narrow- minded and bigotted persons may have endeavoured to degrade the stage in the eyes of the ignorant ; prudence, integrity, benevolence, and piety, are as compatible with the profession of a player, as with any other rank or degree in life whatever. ^Mll^gS-SD^a, WILLIAM SHENSTONE. Hfi sleeps In dust, and all llie Muses mourn, He, whom each virtue filed, eacli grace refined. Friend, teacLer, pattern, darling of mankind! He sleeps in dust ! Beailie. Shenstone was the eldest son of Thomas Shenstoiic, a plain, uneducated country gentleman, whofimned his own estate, and Anne Pen. He was born at the Leasowes, in Hales-Owen, in Shropshire, in November, 1714. He learned to read of an old dame, to whom perhaps we are indebted for his poem of the School-mistress, de- scriptive of his female pedagogue. He was soon removed to the grammar-school in Hales-Owen, and afterwards placed under the tuition of Mr. Crompton. at Solihul, where he distinguished himself by so rapid a progress, as to induce his father to determine on giving him a learned education. In 1732, he was sent to Pembroke-college in Oxford, being designed for the church ; but, though he had the most av.rful notions of the wisdom, power, and goodness of God, he never could be persuaded to enter into oi'ders. After his first four years' residence at the university, he assumed the civilian's gown, but without shewing any intention to engage in the profession. It is to be presumed, however, that he found both delight and advantage at college, as he continued there ten years, though he took no degree : during which period he em- ployed himself in writing English poetry ; a small miscel- lany of which, without his name, was published in 1737. 85. William sMenstone. In 1740 he published his Judgment of Hercules, addressed to Mr. Lyttleton ; and about two years afterwards he produced his imitations of Spenser, The School-mistress. His progenitors being all deceased before the expiration of his minority, the management of his aflairs was en- trusted to the Rev. Mr. Dolman, of Brorae in Staftbrd- shire ; to whose attention he was indebted for his ease and leisure ; whose integrity he always acknowledged with gratitude ; and upon whose death, in 1745, the care of his own fortune unavoidably fell upon him. The sordid inheritor ruminates on how much per acre the land does, or may be made to produce ; the prodigal heir calculates what ready cash may be raised by selling so-much timber, or the sale of the Mansion-house : Shen- .stone surveyed his paternal fields only with a view to their improvement in picturesque beauty, and spent his small estate in adorning it. In the preface to his " Worls in Verse and Prose," the ingenious and ingenuous Mr. Dodsley says, " He was no (Economist : the generosity of his temper prevented him from paying a proper regard to the use of money : he ex- ceeded therefore the bounds of his paternal fortune, which, before he died, was considerably encumbered. But when one recollects the perfect paradise he had raised around him, the hospitality with which he lived, his great indul- gence to his servants, his charities to the indigent, and all done with an estate not more than three hundred pounds a year, one should rather be led to wonder that he left any thing behind him, than to blame his want of oeconomy. He left, however, more than sufficient to pay all his debts, and by his will appropriated his whole estate for that purpose. — His person," Mr. Dodsley adds, " as to height, was above the middle stature, but largely and ra- ther inelegantly formed : his face seemed plain till you conversed with him, and then it grew very pleasing. In his dress he was negligent, even to a fault ; though when young, at the university, he was accounted a beau. He vvore his own hair, which was grey very early, in a parti- cular manner ; not from any afl'ectation of singularity, WILLIAM SHENSTONE. bill fioin a maxim he had laid down, that without too slavish a regard to fashion, every one should dress in a manner most suitable to his own person and figure." In November, 1751, he lost an only and beloved brother ; whose death he thus pathetically laments, in a letter to his friend Mr. Graves : — " How have I prostituted my sorrow on occasions that little concerned me ! I am ashamed to think of that idle ' Elegy upon Autumn,' when I have so much more important cause to hate and to condemn it now ; but the glare and gaiety of the Spring is what I principally dread ; when I shall find all things re- stored but my poor brother, and something like those lines of Milton will run for ever in my thoughts : " Thnf5, Avith the year, Seasons return ; but not to me returns A brother's cordial smile, at eve or morn." I shall then seem to wake from amusements, company, every sort of inebriation with which I have been endea- vouring to lull my grief asleep, as from a dream ; and I shall feel as if I were, that instant, despoiled of all I have chiefly valued for thirty years together — of all my present happiness, and all my future prospects. The me- lody of birds, which he no more must hear ; the cheerful beams of the sun, of which he no more must partake ; every wonted pleasure will produce that sort of pain to which my tempei: is most obnoxious." "Whether it might be from consideration of the narrow- ness of his income, or whatever motive, he never married ; though it is said, he might have obtained the lady who was the subject of his admired Pastoral Ballad, in four parts ; " Absence, Hope, Solicitude, Disappointment:^' but, from the title of the last division of the Ballad, it should seem that the fair one, whoever she might be, was inexorable. Shenstone was one day walking through his romantic retreat, in company with his Delia (whose real name was Wilmot) when a person rushed out of a thicket, and WILLIAM SHENSTONE. jnesfenlhio a pistol to his breast, demanded his nioiiev- "Money," says he, "is not worth struggling!; for. You cannot be poorer than I am ; therefore, unhappy man, take it (throwing him his purse) and fly as quickly as possible." The man did so : he threAv his pistol into the water, and in a moment disappeared. Sheustone ordered the foot-boy, who followed behind them, to pur- sue the robber at a distance, and observe whither he went. In a short time, the boy returned and informed his master that he followed the man to Hales-Owen, where he lived ; that he went also to the very door of his house, and peeped tbrough the key-hole ; that as socn as the man entered, he threw the purse on the ground, and addressed himself to his wife: "Take (says he) the dear-bought price of my honesty:" then taking two of bis children, one on each knee, he said to them, " I have ruined my soul, to keep you from starving ;" and immediately burst into a flood of tears. Shenstone enquired after the man's character, and found that he v*'as a labourer, who was reputed honest and industrious, but oppressed by Avant and a numerous family. He went to his house, when the man threw himself at his feet, and implored mercy. Shenstone not only forgave him, but found him employment as long as he lived. Shenstone wrote a poem on Delia's dying Kid ; where he sajs — A tear bedews my Delia's eye, To think yon playful kid must die; From crystal spring and dowery raetvd Must in his prime of life r«cede ! Hie every frolic, liglit as air, Deserves the gentle Delia's care ; And tears bedew lier tender eye. To think the playful kid must die. But knows my Delia, timely wise, How 30on this blameless era flies r While violence and ciaft succeed. Unfair design, and ruthless deed! \MLLIAM SHENSTONE, This elegaut poet, and amJaBle man, being seized by a |)utrid fever, died at his "beautified" Leasowes, about tive on Friday morning, February 11, 1763; and \vr.s buried by the side of his beloved brother in the Cliurch- yard of Hales-Owen. The incidents of his life are few and simple ; consisting only of occasional jaunts to London, Bath, &c. the improv- ing and adorning his estates ; the paying and receiving visits ; and the producing one of the most pleasing, if not sublime, collections of poetry in the English language. Sublimity indeed was not the attribute of Shenstone ; neither does he seem to have had that relish for it in the writings of others, which might have been expected iu a poet of so tender and polished a genius. Of Milton's sublime Masque he says, " Comus I have once been at, for the sake of the songs, though I detest it in any light : but as a dramatic piece the taking of it seems a prodigy : yet indeed such-a-one, as was pretty tolerably accounted for by a gentleman who sate by me in the boxes. This learned sage, being asked how he liked the play, made answer, ' he could not tell — pretty well, he thought — or indeed as well as any other play — he always took it, that people only came there to see and to be seen — for as for what was said, he owned, he never understood any thing of the matter.' I told him, I thought a gieat many of its admirers were in his case, if they would but own it." Had this con- fession been made on seeing "Comus," as of late years it has been presented, in a mutilated, mangled state, it would not be surprising ; but the above v/as written iu the year 1740, soon after its revival, with Dalton's con- genial insertions, accompanied by Arne's delightful melo- dies ; graced and enriched by the action and harmony of Quin, Milward, Beard, Mrs. Clive, Mrs. Arne, and Mrs. Gibber. To do Shenstone justice, it must be acknowledged, that he seems to have taken great pains to acquire a taste for Spenser (see his Letters), but never to have thoroughly accomplished it ; he wrote, hiiUGelf, so much to the ear, WILLIAM SHENSTONE. that, " Where more is meant than meets tJie ear,** Was " caviare" to him : and he is chiefly pleased with the ludicrous of the sublime author of the " Four Hymns in honour of Love, Beauty, Heavenly Love, and Heavenly Beauty" "Daphnaida;" " The Ruines of Time;" "The Tears of the Muses;" &c. &c. &c. and the unrivalled, though but half-finished, " Faerie Queene." The freedom of animadversion here assumed, is not, it is hoped, used arrogantly ; it relates merely to taste, which varies mentally, as vpell as coi-poreally, in almost every man : the blameless subject of these strictures, let his writings or opinions have been what they might, made one flight above most men : " HIS LIFE WAS UNSTAINED BY ANY CRIME." ©s®^©^ l^S^aaaiBS [/^ ^d£/i4:/u '^ona/na?^?. GEORGE VILLIERS, MARQUJS, AND EARL OF BUCKINGHAM &CC. &C. &C. Some are born great, some atchieve greatness. And soa)e have greatness thrust apon them. S/taksp?art George Vilmers was born on the 28th of August, 1592, at Brookesby : he was the second son of George VilJiers, and Mary, daughter of Anthony Beaumont, of Colehor- ton, Esq. Wotton* says, the early years of young Villiers were marked more for a love of frivolity, such as dancing, than a thirst for literature and sound learning. Lloyd also, in his State Favorities, mentioi:s, that "His skill in letters was very mean : for liuding nature more indulgent to him in the ornaments of the body than of the mind, the tendency of his youthful genius was rather to improve those excellen- cies wherein his choice felicity consisted, than to addict himself to morose and sullen bookishness ; therefore his chief exercise was dancing, fencing," &c. &:c. He was sent to France, as being a cheap place ; but his income was so scanty, that he was obliged to leave it ; and returned to Loudon, and fell a wooing a daughter of Sir Roger Ashton, a gentleman of the bed-chamber, and master of the robes to James I. ; but he could not go on with this match for want of 100 marks, to answer the ex- pence of keeping himself decent ; he therefore entered into friendship with Sir John Graham of the Privy Chamber, who persuaded him to try his fortune at court ; and by frequently shewing his tine shape, says Sir William Dug- dale, the king (James I.) soon took notice of him ; it was some time before that monarch shewed any kindness for him, till in a progress at Althorp in Northamptonshire, at * Lifeof Ruekingham, 4to. 1642. S6. Dl'KE OF BUCKINGHAM. ded, iu Older that Bnckingham might have his will on her ; but she was rescued by Sir N. Bacon's sons.* Yet, amidst all these inconsistencies, Buckingham was ever the ardent interceder of unfortunate malefactors ; in him was always found a successful advocate ; as it was his constant saying, " that hanging was the worst use a man could be put to." Buckingham no^ lived in greater pomp than any noble- man of his time ; having six horses to his carriage ; and was carried about the streets in a chair on men's shoulders. In dress, he was extravagant beyond precedent. It was common with him at any ordinary dancing, to have his cloathes trimmed with great diamond buttons, and to have diamond hat-bands, cockades and ear-rings, to be yoked with great and manifold knots of pearl ; — iu short, to be manacled, fettered, and imprisoned in jewels ; insomuch, that at his going over to Paris, in 16'{5, he had '27 suits of clothes made, the richest that embroidery, lace, silk, velvet, gold and gems could contribute ; one of which was a white imcut velvet, set all over, both suit and cloak, with diamonds, valued at four-score thousand pounds, be- sides a great feather stuck all over with diamonds ; as were also his girdle, hat-band and spurs. His entertainments to the king were also of the most sumptuous order, iu which the easy James would take rather more than prudence dictated ; for he was one of those who " never mixed water with bis wine.t " Could James's eyes have been opened, he had now full opportunity of observing how imfit Buckingham was for the high station to which he was raised. Some accomplish- ments of a courtier he possessed : of every talent of a minister he was utterly destitute. Headstrong in his pas- sions, and incapable equally of prudence and of dissimula- tion ; sincere frojn violence rather than candour ; expensive from profusion rather than generosity ; a waiiu friend ; a furious enemy ; but without any choice or discernment iu either. With these qualities he had early and quickly mounted to the highest rank, and partook at once of the • Divine Catastrophe, p. 1". f Sully':* Memoirs, vol. 2. p. 90. DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM. insolence which attends a fortune newly acquired, and the impetuosity belonging to persons born in high stations, and unacquainted with opposition.* Indeed to such a height did he carry his insolence, that he was about to strike the Prince of Wales. We now find Buckingham fully engaged in business : hs was appointed to accompany the Prince of Wales to Madrid to espouse the Infanta of Spain ; on which foolish and expensive errand, it is well known they were unsuc- cessfal. While in that capital, he received by the hands of Lord Carlisle, the patent creating Iiim a Duke. On his return to England, he was made Lord Vv''arden of the Cinque Ports, and Steward of Hampton Court ; but these were only outward marks of royal favour ; for the King now began mortally to hate Backingham, on account of his transactions in Spain : and the people also became disgusted with him. At this critical juncture, King James died (March 'i7th, Wib), but " not without causing strong- suspicious against Buckingham, t" Indeed, in a pamphlet called the Forerunner of Revenge, written by one Eglish- am, a physician, it is positively stated that James was poisoned by Buckingham, who gave him a white powder ; and that Buckingham's mother applied a poisoned plaister to James's heart and breast. Very much has been written on this subject ; and however suspicious the conduct of Backingham and his mother was, it was never proved against them.^ The parliament, however, in the year 1626, charged Buckingham with the crime ; but as they could not produce their proofs, the proceedings dropped ; and a dissolution soon followed. Buckingham secured his interest with the heir apparent, and was made Lord High Steward, for the ceremony of the late King's funeral. He was next employed on a journey to Paris, to bring over the Princess Henrietta Maria, the bride of the ill-fated Charles I. * Hume, vol. vi. p. 17. f Harris's James, p. 237. X For a more full account of this " poisoning business"— See Smeeton's Life of Buckingham, in his Historical and Biogra- phical Tracts, vol.ii. 4to. DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM, The Parliament, the nobles, and the people, now most cordially hated Buckingham, whom they couceived to be the chief cause of most of their grievances ; and, accord- ingly, we find the Earl of Bristol, at the bar of the House of Lords, accusing the Duke of Buckingham of high treason, and pledging his honour to prove it. On May 8, 1626, the Commons brought up their charges of impeachment against Buckingham : they consisted of thirteen articles, the last one charging the Duke with ap- plying plaisters to the breast of the late King, and giving him potions of drink, which caused the death of the said King. Buckingham gave in his answer to the impeachment, which did not satisfy the Commons ; and while they were preparing for the trial of the Duke, Charles dissolved them. During the time the Duke stood thus charged in the House of Commons, the King got him elected Chancellor of Cambridge, which served to increase the unfortunate breach between the King and the Commons. He was next made general of the land forces to be employed in the Isle of Rhe : in this ill-advised and unfor- tunate expedition, Buckingham was defeated with the loss of 2,000 men : he returned to London, and was as well received by the king, as if he had been conqueror ; and it was soon resolved, that the Duke should again proceed to Rhe, and he went accordingly to Portsmouth, where the fleet and army were to rendezvous : when, on the 24th of August, 1628, he was stabbed by Felton, a gentleman of family in Suffolk, who had formerly been a lieutenant ia the army. It is certain the death of Buckingham was received with every demonstration of inward joy by the people ; and when Felton was brought into London, in order to be tried at the King's Bench, he was received more like a conqueror, than an assassin ; for they looked on him as a sacrifice for the public good ; feeling assured, he did not commit the act for self-interest or private revenge, but from pure principles of love of country. gma w.^&^mm. m.£aig©ii. i SIR WALTER RALEGH. But who can speak The num'j-ous worthies of the maiden reign ? In Ralegh mark their ev'ry glory mix'd ; Ralegh! the scourge of Spain! whose breast with all The sage, the patriot, and the hero burn'd: Nor sunk his vigour when a coward reign The warrior fetter'd, and at last resign'd. To glut the vengeance of a vanquish'd foe. Then, active still and unrestrain'd, his mind Explor'd the vast extent of ages past, And with his prison-hours enrich'd the world ; Yet found no times in all the long research. So glorious or so base as those heprov'd. In which he conquer'd, and in which he bled. Thomson. Sir Walter Ralegh,* a man, in point of bravery and abilitj^ of learning and. judgment, inferior to none of the age in which he lived, and superior to most, was born at Hayes, in the parish of Budley, near Devonshire, in the year 1552. It is uncertain where he received the first rudiments of his education ; he studied, however, a few years at the university of Oxford ; and his age did not exceed seventeen at the time of his departure for France, and he was there during the dreadful massacre of the pro- testants on the evening of St. Bartholomew, 1572. In 1577, Sir Walter accompanied Sir John Norris, and the English army to the Netherlands, and shared in the honours and dangers of the memorable Lammas-day, 1578. In 1580 he went to Ireland, and served there under Lord Grey, who was dispatched to quell the rebellion : * Carley spells it Ralegh; Nauntoh and Bacon, Rawleigh', King James, Raleigh ; and Gascoigne, in his Steele Glass, calls it Rawely : but as Sir Walter himself spells it Ralegh, in bis Let- ters, in the Harleian collection, we have adopted it. 87. SIR WALTER llAl.EGH. here Ralegh behaved with the greatest braver}' ; and these extraordinary services recommended him to the favour of queen Elizabeth : he was accordingly introduced at court ; and appointed to attend Simier to France, and the Duke of Anjou to Antwerp. March 25, 1584, her Majesty granted him letters pa- tent, to " discover some remote heathen and barbarous lands, and to hold the same," &c. On the receipt of this patent. Sir Walter fitted out two barks, it is said, prin- cipally at his own charge, and sailed from England on the 27th of April, 1584, and steered towards America and discovered Virginia. On his return he was knighted by queen Elizabeth, and elected one of the members for the county of Devon. In 1586 Sir Walter fitted out a ship, at his sole expence, to sail for Virginia : it arrived there safe ; and returned to England, bringing with it for the fii-st time, the Nicotiana, or Tobacco. Ralegh was very fond of smoking this herb ; and we are told in the British Apollo, 12mo. 1740, that Avhen he first grew fond of a pipe, his servant one day brought his tankard of ale and nutmeg into his study, where Ralegh was reading and smoking. Seeing the smoke reek from his mouth, the man threw down the ale in a fright, and ran down stairs to alarm the family, crying his master was on fire, and would be burned to ashes if he did not make haste to his assistance. About this time, he was appointed Seneschal of the Duchies of Cornwall and Exeter, and Lord Warden of the Stannaries in Devonshire and Cornwall ; and in 1587 re- ceived the additional honour of being appointed Captain of the Guard to her Majesty, and Lieutenant General of the county of Cornwall. In 1588 he joined the fleet against theArmada ; and in this year was chosen one of the gentlemen of her Majesty's privy chamber, and had a patent granted him to make licences for keeping of taverns, and retailing of wines throughout all England. Balegh had now experienced the great difficulties he )ta4 to eaooantev in establishing the Virginian colony ; and SIR VIALTER RALEGH. after expending £40,000. upon it, he assigned it over to a party of gentlemen, reserving to himself the fifth part of all gold and silver ore. On the 6th of May, 1.592, he sailed with a fleet to intercept the Spanish and Portuguese plate-ileet , and on the 3d of August took the Madre de Dies, the richest prize ever brought into England. In this year he married the lovely daughter of Sir Nicholas Thockmorton ; after being committed to the Tower by Elizabeth for violating her person. On his release from the Tower he determined on the discovery of the rich and extensive empire of Guiana, in South America ; and sailed from England the 6th of February, 1595. Sir Walter, although he discovered that rich and beautiful empire, could not gain possession of it, so he returned to England late in the summer of 1595, and was indifferently received at court. We next find Ralegh engaged in the memorable action at Cadiz, in 1596, commanding the Warspite, and hoisting the ensign of Rear Admiral of the fleet. In this action he behaved with the most heroic bravery, but got wounded severely in his leg ; and after demolishing the forts, and setting fire to the city, he re-embarked on the 5th of July, and arrived in safety at Plymouth, by the 10th of August, and was graciously received by the queen. On the 26th of August, 1600, he was made Governor of Jersey. Ralegh now lost his mistress ; and on the death of Elizabeth, his fortunes sank to rise no more. Cecil pre- judiced James against Ralegh, and he soon found himself neglected : his offices were given to Scotch favourites of the king ; he was deprived of his wine license ; but a pension of 300/. was granted him for his life. Scarcely had three months of the reign of this James elapsed before Ralegh was charged with treasonable practices against the government. It was a fit beginning for ihe reign of such a monarch — it was a cruel charge, because it was false — it was cowardly ; but then it was done by a king who was called a second Solomon, on accouDt of his learning. Solo- mon, the son of David the fiddler, as the witty French SIR WALTER RALEGK. ttjonarch called liim. But to return to the narrative. Cobham accused Ralegh of being prly_> to his plan witli the Count Aremberg ; wliereupon he was committed to the Tower. He was shortly after indicted for High Treason ; and as the plague raged in London, he was taken to ^Yinchester, and there tried on the l7th of November, 1603, was found guilty, and received the sentence to be hung, drawn and quartered. The king and his govern- ment finding the people beheld the villainous conspiracy against Ralegh in its true light, were fearful of executing him ; and he was therefore reprieved during his Majesty's pleasure, and again sent to the Tower. The king had neither virtue nor justice enough to release him ; and his son, prince Henry, the darling of the people, said. No king but his father would keep such a lord in such a cage. At length, on the 17th of March, 1615-16, after a cruel imprisonment of more than twelve years, he obtained his liberty by bribery, and a change of James's favoraites. No sooner was he released than he began to prosecute another voyage to Guiana, and accordingly, on the 28th of March, 1617,, he sailed from the Thames with a pretty considerable fleet. This fatal voyage brought on him the vengeance of Gondamor, the Spanish ambassador, then in England, a crafty designing statesman, who so completely gained the ascendancy of the weak James, that, upon hear- ing the result of the unfortunate expedition, he gave proof of his devotion to the Spanish interest, by issuing a pro- clamation, declaring his detestation of the conduct of the expedition, and requiring all persons who could give any information, to repair to the privy council. Ralegh, on seeing this proclamation when he landed at Plymouth, immediately surrendered himself ; he afterwards meditated his escape, in the act of making which in disguise, he was betrayed by Stukely, and apprehended while in a boat at Woolwich, and re-committed to the Tower on the 10th of August, 1618. He was taken out of his bed in a fit of fever, on the 24th of August, and unexpectedly hurried, not to his trial, but to a sentence of death. Ralegh, on hig return to bis prison, while some were <5IK WALTER RALEGH. deeply deploring his fate, observed that the world itself is but a larger prison, out of which some are daily selected for execution. The last night of his existence was occupied by writing letters. His lady visited him that night, and amidst her tears acquainted him, that she had obtained the favour of disposing of his body ; to which he answered smiling, " It is well, Bess, that thou mayst dispose of that dead, thou hadst not always the disposing of when it was alive." At midnight he entreated her to leave him. It must have been then, that, with unshaken fortitude, Ralegh sat down to compose those verses on his death, which being short, the most appropriate maybe repeated. " Even such is Time, that takes on trust. Our youti), our joys, our all we have. And pays us but with age and dust; Who in the dark and silent grave. When we have wander'd all our ways, Shuts up the story of our days 1" He has added two other lines expressive of his trust in his resurrection. On the same night, Ralegh wrote this distich on the candle burning dimly : " Cowards fearto die : but courage stout, Rather than live in snutf, will be put out." On the morning of his death, he smoked, as usual, his favourite tobacco, and when they brought him a cup of excellent sack, being asked how he liked it, Ralegh answered, " As the fellow, that, drinking of St. Giles's bowl, as he went to Tyburn, said, that was good drink if a man might tarry by it." His dress, as v^as usxial with him, was elegant, if not rich. Oldys describes it, but mentions, that he had a wrought night-cap under his hat ; his ruffland, a black wrought velvet night-gown over a hair-coloured satin doublet, and a black wrought w^aistcoat ; black cut taft'ety breeches, and ash-coloured silk stockings. He ascended the scaffold with the same cheerfulness he had passed to it. SIR WALTER RALEtiH. Having taken off bis gown, he called to the heads-man to shew him the axe, which not being instantly done, he repeated, " I prithee let me see it. Dost thou think I am afraid of it ?" He passed his finger slightly over the edge, and smiling, observed to the sheriff, " This is a sharp medicine, but a sound cure for all diseases," and kissing it, laid it down. Another writer has, " This is that, that will cure all sorrows." After this, he went to three several corners of the scaffold, and kneeling down, desired all the people to pray for him, and recited a long prayer to himself. When he began to pi-epare himself for the bloc-k, he first laid himself down to try how the block fitted him ; after rising up, the executioner kneeled down to ask his forgiveness, which Ralegh readily granted ; but in treated him not to strike till he gave a token by lifting up his hand, ' and then fear not, but strike home V When he laid his head down to receive the stroke, the executioner desired him to lay his head towards the east : ' It was no great matter which way a man's head stood, so that the heart lay right!' said Ralegh : but these were not his last words. He was once more to speak in this world, with the same intrepidity he had lived in it — for, having lain some minutes on the block in prayer, he gave the signal ; but the executioner, either unmindful, or in fear, failed to strike, and Ralegh, after once or twice putting forth his hands, was compelled to ask him, ' Why dost thou not strike? Strike, man!' In two blows he was beheaded , but from the first, his body never shrunk from the spot by any discomposure of his posture, which, like his mind, was immoveable. Thus died the glorious and gallant cavalier, of whom Osborne says, ' His death was managed by him with so high and religious a resolution, as if a Roman had acted a Christian, or rather, a Christian a Roman.' The church of St. Margaret, Westminster, is honoured with the remains of Sir Walter Ralegh, who was interred there the same day he was beheaded in Old Palace Yard, October 18, 1618. CAPTAIN JAMES COOK. The elements So mix'd in him, that Nature might stand up, And say to all the world, This was a Man! Shakspeare. James Cook, one of the most enterprising and skilful na- vigators the world has produced, was born at Marton in Cleveland, a village about four miles from Great Ayton, in the county of York, on the 27th of October, 1728. His father, whose name was likewise James, was a day-labourer to Mr. Mewburn, a very respectable farmer. In the year 1730, when our navigator was about two years old, his father removed with his family to Great Ayton, and was employed as a hind by Thomas Scottowe, Esq., having the charge of a considerable farm in that neighbourhood, known by the name of Airyholm. As the father continued long in that trust, Captain Cook was employed in assisting him in various kinds of hus- bandry suited to his years, until the age of thirteen. At that period he was put under the care of Mr. PuUen, a school-master who taught at Ayton, where he learned arithmetic, book keeping, &c., and is said to have shewn a very early genius for figures. While a boy he displayed an extraordinary spirit of inquiry, which was often not a little perplexing to his school-master. About January, 1745, at the age of seventeen, his father bound him apprentice to William Saunderson for four years, to learn the grocery and haberdashery business, at Snaith, a popu- lous fishing town about ten miles from Whitby : but his natural inclination not having been consulted on this oc- casion, he soon quitted the counter in disgust, and in July, 1746, he boimd himself apprentice to Mr. J. W^alker, of Whitby, for the term of three years. He first sailed on board the ship Freelove, burthen about 450 tons, 8a. CAPTAIN COOK. ehieflr employed in tbe coal trade from Newcastle to London, arsd afterwards in the Three Brothers, about 600 tons burthen. After two coal voyages the latter ship was taken into the service of Government, and sent as a trans- port to Middleburg;h, to carry some troops to Dublin. In the spring of 1750, Mr. Cook shipped himself as a seaman on board the Maria, belonging to Mr. John Wil- kinson, of Whitby, under xhe command of Captain Gaskin. In her he continued all the year in the Baltic-trade. Early in February, 1752, Mr, Walker sent for him and made him mate of oi:e of his vessels, called the Friendship, (rf about 400 tons burthen. In this station he continued till Mayor June, 1753, in the coal trade. At the breaking out of the war, in 1755, he entere.d into the kiiig's service, on board the Eagle, at that time commanded by Captain Ilf^mer, and afterwards by Sir Hugh Palliser, who soon discovered his merit, and intro- duced him on the quarter-deck. In the year 1758, he was appointed master of the Northumberland, the flag-ship of Lord Colville, who had taken the command of the squadron stationed on the coast of America. It was here, as he was often heard to say, that, during a hard winter, he first read Euclid, and applied himself to the study of mathematics and astronomy, without any other assistance than what a few books, and his own industry aflorded him. At the same time that he thus found means to cultivate and improve his mind, and to supply the deficiencies of an early education, he was engaged iu most of the busy and active scenes of war in America. At the siege of Quebec, Sir Charles Saun- ders committed to his charge the execution of services of the first importance in the naval department. He piloted the boats to the attack of Montmorency ; conducted the embarkation to the Heights of Abraham, examined the passage, and laid buoys for the security of the large ships in proceeding up the river. The courage and address with which he acquitted himself in these services, gained him the warm friendship of Sir Charles Saunders and Lord Colville, who continued to patronize him during the rest of their lives, with the greatest zeal and affection. CAPTAIN COOK. He received a commission as lieutenant, on the first dav of April, 1760; and at the conclusion of the war, he was appointed, through the recommendation of Lord Colville and Sir Hugh Fuliiser, to survej the Gulf of St. Lawrence and the coast of Newfoundland. In the year 1763, he was with Sir William Burnabj on the Jamaica station ; ai;d that olHeer having occasion to send despatches to the Governor of Jucatan, relativeto the logwood-cutters in the Bay of Honduras, Lieutenant Cook was selected for that employment ; and he performed it in a manner which entitled him to the approbation of the Admiral. A relation of this voyage and journey was published in the year 1769, under the title of " Remarks on a passage from the river Belise in the Bay of Honduras to Merid, the capital of the province of Jucatan in the Spanish West Indies, by Lieutenant Cook," in an octavo pamphlet. To a perfect knowledge of all the duties belonging to a sea-life, Mr. Cook added a great skill in astronomy. In the year 1767, the Royal Society resolved, that it would be proper to send persons into some part of the South Sea, to observe the transit of the planet Venus over the sun's disk ; and our navigator was appointed by that learned body, with Mr. Charles Green, to observe the transit at Otaheite. On this occasion Lieutenant Cook was promoted to be Captain, and his commission bore date the 25th of May, 1768. — He immediately hoisted the pendant, and took command of the ship, in which he sailed down the river on the 30th of July. Captain Cook came to anchor in the Downs on the i2th of June, after having been absent almost three years, and in that time had experienced every danger to which a voy- age of such a length is incident, and in which he made discoveries equal to those of all the navigators of this country, from the time of Columbus to the present day. — The nan-ation of this expedition was written bj Dr. Hawkesworth. Soon after Captain Cook returned to England, it was resolved to equip two ships t-o complete the discovery of CAi'TAIN COOK. th3 southern hemisphere. It had long been a prevailing idea, that the ucexplored part contahied another continent, and Alexander Dahymple, a gentleman of enterprising spirit, was fully persuaded of its existence. To ascertain the fact was the principal object of this expedition ; and that nothing might be omitted that could tend to facilitate the enterprise, two ships were provided, furnished with every necessary which could promote the success of the undertaking. The first of these ships was called the Resolution, mider the command of Captain Cook ; the othei-, the v^dventure, conuiiauded by Captain Furneaux. Both of them sailed from Deptford on the 9th of April, 1772, and returned to England, on the 1 Uh of July, 1775 ; having, during three years and eighteen days (in which time the voyage was performed), lot>t but one man by sick- ness in Captain Cook's ships, although he had navigated throughout all the climates from 52 deg. north, to 71 deg. south, with a company of 118 men. The relation of this voyage was given to the public by Captain Cook himself, and l>yMr. George Forster, son of Dr. Forster, who had been appointed by government to accompany him, for the purpose of making observations on such natural productions as might be found in the course of the navigation. The want of success which attended Captain Cook's attempt to discover a southern continent, did not discourage another plan being resolved on, which had been recom- mended some time before. This was no other than finding out a north-west passage, which the fancy of some chime- rical projectors had conceived to be a practicable scheme. The dangers which our navigator had twice braved and escaped would have exempted him from being solicited a third time to venture his person in unknown countries, amongst desert islands, inhospitable climes, and in the midst of savages ; but, oa his opinion being asked con- cerning the person who would be the most proper to execute this design, he once more relinquished the quiets and com- forts of domestic life, to engage in scenes of turbulence and confusion, of diflTicuJty and danger. His intrepid spirit and inquisitive mind induced him again to offer his services ; CAPTAIN COOK. and they were accepted without hesitation. The manner in which be had deported himself on former occasions left no room to suppose a fitter man could be selected. He prepared for his departure with the utmost alacrity, and actually sailed in the month of July, 1776. A few months after his departure from England, not- withstanding he was then absent, the Royal Society voted him Sir Godfrey Copley's gold medal, as a re- ward for the account which he traDsinitted to that body, of the method taken to preserve the health of the crew of his ship ; on which occasion. Sir John Pringle, in an oration pronounced on the 3Gth of Nov. after descanting on the means used on the voyage to preserve the lives of the sailors, concluded his discourse in these terms: "Allow me, then, gentlemen, to deliver this medal, with his unperishing name engraven upon it, into the hands of one who will be happy to receive that trust, and to hear that this respectable body never more cordially, nor more meritoriously, bestowed that faithful symbol of their esteem and affection. For if Rome decreed the Civic Crown to him who saved the life of a single citizen, what wreaths are due to that man, who having himself saved many, perpetuates in your Transactions the means by which Britain may now, on the most distant voyages, save numbers of her intrepid sons, her Mariners ; who, braving every danger, have so liberally contributed to the fame, to the opulence, and to the maritime empire of their country?" It will give pain to every sensible mind to reflect, that this honourable testimony to the merit of our gallant com- mander never came to his knowledge. While his friends were waiting with the most earnest solicitude for tidings concerning him, and the whole nation expressed an anxious impatience to be informed of his success, advice was received from Captain Clerke, in a letter dated at Kamt- schatka, the 8th day of June, 1779; stating that Captain Cook was killed on the 14th of February, 1779. Captain Cook was a married man, and left several children behind him : on each of these his Majesty settled a pension of 25/. per annum, and 200/. per annum on his CAPTAIN COOK. widow. It is a circumstance remarkable, that Captaia Cook was godfather to his wife ; and at the very time she was christened, had determined, if she grew up, on the union which afterwards took place between them. The constitution of his body was robust, inured to labour, and capable of undergoing the severest hardships. His stomach bore, without difficulty, the coarsest and most ungrateful food. Indeed, temperance in him was scarcely a virtue : so great was the indiflerence with which he submitted to every kind of self-denial. The qualities of his mind were of the same hardy, vigorous kind with those of his body. His tmderstanding was strong and perspicuous. His judgment, in whatever re- lated to the services he was engaged in, quick and sure. His designs were bold and manly ; and both in the con- ception, and in the mode of execution, bore evident marks of a great original genius. His courage was cool and determined, and accompanied with an admirable presence of mind in the moment of danger. His manners were plain and unallected ; but the most distinguishing feature of his character was that unremitting perseverance in the pursuit of his object, which was not only superior to the opposition of dangers and the pressure of hardships, but even exempt from the want of ordinary relaxation. As a navigator, his services were of the most splendid description, and even the method which he discovered and so successfully pursued for preserving the lives of seamen, forms a new era in navigation, and will transmit his name to the latest posterity as the friend and benefactor of mankind.* * We are indebted for this memoir to the Editor of Limbird'« neat pocket edition of Cook's Voyages. WILLIAM HOGARTH. " It was character, the pas.vloiis, the- soul, that his genius was given him to copy." Lord Orford. THIS matchless artist, who held, as 'twere, the minor up to nature, was born in the citj of Loudon, on the 10th of November, 1697. His father, Richard Hogarth, was an author, who, among other works, compiled a latin dictionary. Hogarth Avitnessiag the precarious situation of men of classical education, and the difficulties under which his father laboured, when he was taken from school, resolved on learning some business ; and having at an early period, shewed a great predilection for the arts, which he says he imbibed by witnessing the ornaments in his school-books, he was placed as an apprentice to Mr. Ellis Gamble, who kept a silversmith's shop in Cran- boarn Alley, Leicester Square, to learn engraving oa silver : bat ho fo'iad this employment too limited ; for after beholding the paiutiiigs in Greenwich Hospital and St. Paul's, he resolved oa following the silver-plate en- graving no longer than necessity obliged him ; and turned his thougiits on engraving subjects ou copper, which he accomplished by tlie time he was twenty years of age j but to make himself master of the line and stroke en- graving, he foaud it necessary to employ much time and study, and to learn drawing. His first and greatest ambitiou was to deai-jn ; and it was his custom, when he saw a singular character, to pencil the leading features upon his nail, and when he came home, to copy the sketch on paper, and afterwards introduce it in a print. Instead of burthening the memory with musty rules, or tiring the 89. WILLIAM fUJCAP.Tff. eje with eopving dry and damaged pictures, he ever fouud studying from nature, the siionest and safest way of attain- ing knowledge in the art. One Sunday he set out with two or three of his com- panions on an excursion to Highgate. The weather being hot, they went into a public-house, where they had not been long, before a quarrel arose bet\veea two persons in the room, one of whom struck the other on the head with a quart pot, and cut him very much. Hogarth drew «ut his pencil, and produced an extremely ludicrous picture of the scene. VVhat rendered the piece the more pleasing, was, that it exhibited an exact likeness of the man, with the portrait of his antagonist, and the tigures ill caricature of the persons gathered round him. As soon as Hogarth became master of engraving on cop- per, he readily got employment in frontispieces to books ; and executed the plates to Hudibras, published in liimo. 1726. As he ascribed his father's illness, which caused his death, to the ill-treatment he received from the booksellers and publishers, Hogarth determined to pub- lish on his ov.'n account ; but here he had to encounter a host of printsellers ; and when the Taste of the Town appeared, in which the reigning follies of the time were lashed, he found copies of it in the print-shops, and vending at half-price, while the original prints were re- tarned to hiia again ; and he was thus obliged to sell the plate for whatever these pirates pleased to give him. Owing to this and otlier circumstances, by engraving until near thirty, he could do little more than maintain himself; but he was ahvajs a punctual pay-master. About this time, he gnined the heart and hand of Miss Thornhill, daughter of S'lv James Thornhil!, an union neither sanctioned by her father, nor accompanied with a fortune. He then ejnployed himself in pjiinting small family pieces, and commenced historical painter ; but finding it not encouraged, he returned to engraving sub- jects from his own designs, yet occasionally taking por- traits as large as life ; and to prove his powers, and to viBflicat'ie bis faaic, he painted the admirable portrait of \VILLIA:\I HOGARTH. Captain Coram, the founder of the Foundliug Hospital, and to which charity he presented it. His next perform- ance was the portrait of Mr. Ganic^ in the character of Richard III., for which he received 'iOO/., being the greatest sum that e^ er was before received by a British artist for a single portrait. In addition to the high and sounding tide of counsellor and honorary meniber of the Imperial Academy of Augs- bourg, conferred upon Hogarth in the German diploma, he was, on the 6th of June, 1757, still farther dignified, by being appointed Serjeant Painter to King George II. ; and entered upon the duties of his ofllce on the loth of the following July, at a salary of ten pounds per annum i Soon after he was married, he began his celebrated series of pictures of the Harlot's Progress, and was advised to have some of tliem placed in the way of his father-in-law. Accordingly one morning early, Mrs. Hogarth undertook to convey several of them into his dining-room. When Sir James arose, and was informed what had been done, he said, " Very well ! the man who can produce representations like these, can also maintain a wife without a portion." He soon after, however, became not only reconciled, but even generous to the young couple. The Harlot's Progress, in which the pencil was ren- dered subseivient to the purposes of morality and instruc;- tion, rendered the genius of Hogarth conspicuously known. Above twelve hundred names were entered in his sub- scription book. It was made into a pantomime, and represented on the stage. Fans Avere likewise engraved, containing miniature representations of all the six plates. The celebrated Henry Fielding had often promised to sit to his friend Rognilh ; unluckily, however, no portrait was taken. After his death, Hogarth laboured to try if lie could produce a likeness of his friend from images existing of his own family ; and just as he was despairing of success, for w ant of some rule to go by, in the diir.en- sions and on< lines of the face, fortune threw the grand desideratum ia his way. A lady, with a pair of scissors. WILLIAM HOGARTH. had cut a profile, which gave the distances and propor- tions of Lis face suilicieiitlv to restore his lost ideas of hiiu. Glad of nn opportunity of paying his last tribute to the inemoiy of an author whom he admired, Hogarth caught at the outline with rapture, a ,d finished au excel- lent drawing, which is the only portrait of Fielding extant. Hogarth was a very absent man. When he set up his carriage, having oceasion to visit the lord mayor, on coming out of the Mansion House, he walked home wet to the skin, forgetting that he had his own chariot at the door. Of his works in series, besides the Harlot's Pr(r'gie.'is, he produced the Rake's Pi ogress, Mavriago-a-hnwde, Industry and Idleness, the Six stages oi Cruelly, the Four Times of the Day, and the Eleviian Pieces. In 1753, he prodaced a work, called " The Analysis of Beauty," written with a view of fixing the fluctuating ideas of taste. Lord Orfovd is very severe in his remarks on Hogarth's painting of Sigisiuuuda, which he says is " more ridicu- lous than any thing he had ever witnessed." In this observation, his lordship displays more venom than either judgment or truth ; that the picture lu^s faults, we allow ; but the colouring is brilliant, the drapery graceful, and tl)e figure of Sigisnmnda true to nature : but the AtYtr/ of Tancred ! aye, say some of the critics, it is as big as a bullock's! It was the heart that ofiended Orford — he expected Hog?.rth to produce a piece of work equal to the finest dief-d'ceuvres of the Italian scr.ool ; forgetting the infant state of the Fine Arts in England, at the period Sigisnmnda was painted. Lord Orford calls the Marquis of Worcester'.^ Century of Inventions, " ?,n amazing piece of folly ;" this is certainlj'^ much more ridiculous than Hogarth's painting of Sigismnuda. The cringing, lying, deceitful Voltaire once said, that Hogarth's works Avere only fit for pot-housep. If this G'oiiah of literature had studied truth and virtue a little more than he did, he never would have made so ridiculous an assertion. — Ifhe had take:: only the trouble of inspecting WILLIAM HOGARTH. Hogarth's picture of " Tlie Lady's Last Stake,"* in (!ie possession of the Earl of Charlemont, he would not have dared, notwithstanding all his iinpiider^ce, to have made such an assertion. Had Hogarth painted no other picture but this, he hjiddone enough to immortalize his name : it is a most precious gem ; enough to make every Briton pioud that Hogarth was an Englishman. A few months before Hogarth was seized with the malady which deprived society of one of its most distin- guished ornaments, he proposed to his matchless pencil the work he has entitled The Tail Piece. The first idea is said to have been started in company at his own table. " My next undertaking," said Hogarth, " shall be the end of all things." " If that is the case," replied one of his friends, " your business will be finished, for there will be an end of the painter." " There will so," answered Hogarth, " and therefore, the sooner the better." Ac- cordingly he began the next day, and continued his design with a diligence that seemed to indicate an appiehension, as the report goes, that he should not live tiil he had completed it ; this, however, he did in the most ingenious manner, by grouping every thing v/hich could denote the end of all things ; a broken bottle ; an old broom v.'orn to the stump; the but-endofan old fire-lock ; a cracked bell ; a bow unstrung ; a crown tumbled in pieces ; towers in ruins ; the sign of a tavern called the "V^'orld's End tumb- ling ; the moon in her wane ; the map of the globe burning ; a gibbet falling, the body gone, and the chains which held it dropping down ; Phoebus and his horses dead in the clouds ; a vessel wrecked ; Time with his hour-glass and scythe broken, i^a tobacco-pipe in his mouth, and the last v/hitt" of smoke going out ; a pla^-book opened, with exeunt omnes stamped in the corner ; an empty purse ; and a statute of bankruptcy taken out against Nature. '* So far, so good," said Hogarth, "nothing remains but " taking his pencil in a short prophetic fury, and dashing off the simi- * The lady in this picture is said to be'a portrait of the cele- brated All's. Piozzi, wiien Miss Salusbury. WILLIAM HOGARTH. litiide of a paiuter'b pallet broken — " Finis!" exclaimed Hogarth, " the deed is done, and all is over!" It is a Avell-known and very remarkaljle fact that he never again took the pallet in his hand ; it is a circumstance less known, perhaps, that he died about a year after he had finished this extraordinary " Tail-Piece !" Hogai'th died at his house in Leicester Square, October '26, 17 64. He lies baried in Chiswick church-yard, where an elegant mouument is erected to his memory, on which is an appropriate inscription by his friend Garrick. His wife Jane died November 13, 1789, and lies bj the side of her distinguished husband. F I N I S. Princeton Theological Seminary Libraries 1012 01232 1040 '%^-:; **i* ^ ^ -^