THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES 
 IN CORNWALL. 
 
 COKNl'BU FHLtiT, 
 
 TOT rccuNDA VIRIS. Jos.Iscanv$ 
 Sy tho Rcr. R. POLWHELE, 
 
 Or POL'CHELB : 
 
 Viear of Au>fy* ; and an Honorary Assoeittt f (he 
 Society of Liltratwe. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 
 ror.. in. 
 
 CTruro : 
 
 PRINTED BY TV. POLYBL1NK, 
 
 Turn J. B. NICHOLS AD SON, LO.VOMAIf AMB Co, 
 
 Slill'KlS AND MAIISIIAT.L, ANI> O. B. 
 
 WHITTAKER AYO Co. 
 
 LONDON. 
 
 1831.
 
 PA 
 
 C 
 
 V.-3 
 
 ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 A/y readers will perceive that I have adopted 
 Mason's plan in his Memoirs of Gray; introducing 
 or concluding the Letters of Whitaker and others with 
 the statement of facts and occasional -observations-, and 
 illustrating the whole with Notes.
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL 
 SKETCHES IN CORNWALL. 
 
 MEMOIRS OF REV. JOHN WHITAKER. 
 
 CHAPTER I. SECTION I. 
 
 TN our Biographical Sketches we havecontemplat- 
 ed Intellect and Talent of the highest order and in every 
 variety. Would it be extravagant to say, that all this 
 Intellect and all this Talent may be recognized as concen- 
 trated in WHITAKER ? In him may we be allowed toaf- 
 firm that the scattered rays which we beheld undazzled, 
 thus brought to a focus, have a brilliancy and an intensity 
 almost overpowering ? Such an nssenion may possibly bo 
 deemed extravagant. But if, noticing the energies of thn 
 MIND, we look also to the sensibilities of the HEART, we 
 must see in Whitaker a superiority to excite admiration. 
 This, I think, will not admit of a question, that of tho 
 Worthies, who have passed in review before us, though 
 some make near approaches to Whitaker in genius, 
 o'.hers in learning, others in religiousness ; yet in him 
 were genius and learning and religion associated with a 
 distinction to place him above all. The vigour, the 
 liveliness, the ardour of his imagination, his acuteness in. 
 penetrating, his unwearied ness of research, and his deci- 
 siveness in judging, were not surpassed even by a Davy 
 Kut between Whitaker and Davy we draw no pa- 
 rallel. After some excursions in the regions of Fancy,
 
 4 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES 
 
 Davy alighted upon solid ground. His muse was like 
 the fluctuation of the flood that raged for a while and 
 subsided ; and he found his resting-place the " everlasting 
 mountains :" his Ararat was science. Whitaker was no 
 philosopher. In the mean time Davy had neither 
 Whitaker's learning nor religion. 
 
 In classical erudition and critical acumen, Toup 
 was great : but to the historical knowlege, the antiqua- 
 rian skill, the devout religiousness of Whitaker, Toup 
 had no pretensions. In Penrosethe life of the Christian 
 was not less conspicuous than in Whitaker : butPenrose 
 had not either the strength of his intellect, or the viva- 
 city. 
 
 Whether we have respect to the mind or to the 
 heart, we can set no Cornish Worthy upon a level with 
 Whitaker, in conversing, in writing, in acting. 
 
 In conversation, we have heard many fluent as 
 himself; but none at once so rapid, so energetic, so 
 commanding. In his writings, we shall acknowlege 
 the same animation the same tone of paramount au- 
 thority : and in the commerce of life, we hail with plea- 
 sure, amidst a conscientious discharge of every domestic 
 and social and religious duty, a generosity that spurned 
 at detraction, even " hoping against hope ;" an inde- 
 pendent spirit tempered by humility. 
 
 It is true, he had his faults; for he was a man, 
 He had invincible prejudices : and with an impetuosity 
 that would break down every obstacle in his way he 
 ran his career ; despising the pusillanimous sentiment 
 " Non mihi res, sed me rebus submittere conor." 
 
 Such was Whitaker: as we shall perceive in the 
 gradual developement of his character, for the most part 
 from his own unstudied letters. 
 
 We proceed then to state, that John Whitaker was 
 born at Manchester in 1735. In the register of baptisms 
 at the Collegiate parish Church of Christ, in that place, 
 we find he was baptised on the llth of May in that 
 year. Before he was ten years of age, he was entered 
 a scholar of the Free Grammar School at Manchester :
 
 MEMOIRS OF WHITAKKR. 5 
 
 and we may judge of the character of that school, when 
 we are informed that the late Lord Alvanley and the late 
 Colonel Stanley were his school-fellows and contempo- 
 raries.* 
 
 In 1752, he was " made Exhibitioner to Oxford, at 
 Ten pounds per annum," He was elected Scholar of 
 C.C. C. 3rd of March 1753; and Fellow 2lst of Janu- 
 ary, 1763.t 
 
 In 1759, February 27, he was admitted M. A. ; and 
 in 1767, July 1st, he proceeded U. D. 
 
 It appears that he was a young man of el great pecu- 
 liarities.'' He associated with very few ; not from fas^ 
 tidiousness I conceive, though <c very few" there are 
 within the walls of a college, whether boys or *' boys 
 grown old," who in conversation are capable of 
 affording pleasure to a deeply reflecting mind. The 
 frivolous and the vain but ill consort with the studious 
 and contemplatire. The early religiousness of our friend 
 was apparent in his regularly keeping the fast of Lent 
 and that of every Friday throughout the year, till supper 
 time. In this observance, I am certain there was no 
 affectation; if the uniform simplicity of a long life will 
 authorise such an assurance. " At supper-time" it 
 seems, after so severe a fast, " he used to draw atten- 
 tion from all who were at table with him, by eating- 
 
 " I feel anxious" (says a friend distinguished in rank and 
 in literature) " to put you into the way of procuring the 
 best information respecting the early life of the late Mr. Whit- 
 aker; and yesterday I had some conversation with a man of con- 
 siderable literary attainments, whose father was at school with 
 that Gentleman. This school was what is called the Free School, 
 at Manchester ; and you may judge of its character when linforrr, 
 you that the late Lord AUanley, and the late Colonel Stanley, 
 were Mr. Whitaker's school-fellows and contemporaries." 
 
 t Among the scholars of Brazen-nose, was the Rev. John 
 Whitaker, B. D. Rector of Ruan Lanyhorne, the learned au- 
 thor of the History of Manchester, &c. &c., who entered this 
 t'ollpge in 1752, and continued about twelve months; after 
 nhich he was elected Scholar of Corpus." History of the 
 University of Oxford, by Alexander Chalmers ; p. 257 26),. 
 1810. 
 
 A2
 
 6 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES 
 
 double or treble commons." This information comes 
 from a gentleman exalted in rank and venerable for 
 age and erudition. But I suspect that in making his 
 report of Whi taker, the learned Doctor had not di- 
 vested himself of prejudice. Piqued at Whitaker's 
 fancied incivility in not shewing the regard which se- 
 veral occasions might have prompted, to C. C. C.he was 
 very concise in his communications : for he said noth- 
 ing more to me in his account of Whitaker, than that 
 " in College from the first to the last Whitaker. 
 " was a hard student.'' In the eye of candour, Mr. 
 Whitaker's '' peculiarities" would be adduced as evi- 
 dence of a mind determined to think for itself; and 
 though not contemptuous from the feeling of its power, 
 too firm to have recourse for support to any adventitious 
 assistance. The character, however, of his mind was 
 soon decided in literary composition, 
 
 In pursuing my biographical track, I shall occa- 
 sionally use the vehicle of epistolary correspondence 
 through which (as already intimated) my readers may 
 become familiarly acquainted with a man on whose 
 " like they shall seldom look again." 
 
 In this section we have a solitary letter ; and that 
 poetical. It is entitled 
 
 A POETICAL JOURNEY 
 
 From Manchester to Derby, iii Noyember 1"63, addressed to a Lady. 
 
 When that sad eve I breathed my last adieu, 
 And the door closing, snatched you from my view 
 Plunged in the depth of silence and of shade,* 
 The streets I traverse, and retire to bed. 
 Hut all in vain ; the shrill-voiced clock below 
 Long finds me sleepless as the quarters go. 
 High round my limbs no feathery softness swelled, 
 But the hard mattress spread a level field ; 
 Not half asleep, the rousing call I hear, 
 And to the chamber of the coach repair. 
 
 * The hour being late and the streets not then lighted with 
 lamps.
 
 MEMOIRS OF WHITAKER . 7 
 
 Now o'er the town soft shines the lunar light, 
 And tips with silver every building's height ; 
 Now lock'd in sleep each son of Commerce lies. 
 And dreams of Touchet and of bankruptcies ; 
 While o'er the stones the coach its burden bears, 
 Of men and woodcocks, of a belle and hares. 
 
 First of the four, a lady takes her place ; 
 A taste for books inform'd a handsome face : 
 Blue round her neck a tippet twined its down, 
 Blue round her hands a muff of feathers shone. 
 Full in her front appear'd a Cambridge man ; 
 The female finish 'd what St. John's began: 
 He the fond title of her husband chose, 
 And a large plaister bridged his pimply nose. 
 Close by her side your reverend Damon sat, 
 In his b'ob grizzle and his beaver hat. 
 
 Young L r last, on Hodson's* generous port, 
 
 Resolved with A and I B to sport ; 
 
 But fate forbad ; the knight and squire we met, 
 And Jack returned the next day with regret. 
 
 " Jumping high o'er the rocks of the rough grounds, 
 Rattles the clattering coach, and the shocktaxlebounds.f " 
 Thus rough we roll, where Stockport hangs with pride, 
 Prone from its steeps o'er Mersey's infant tide ; 
 Thus rough we roll, where Disley's hills we scale. 
 Strain up the hill, and lumber to the vale. 
 
 Now a wide range of mountains meet the eyes, 
 " Alps peep o'er Alps, and hills on hills arise.*" 
 " Late o'er these heights when Lincoln sent her host," 
 From their low levels of her own smooth coast ; 
 Wondering, the soldiers saw the hills appear, 
 And stopp'd and gazed, and half inclined to tear. 
 
 'Mid this rude rumble oft in vain I try, 
 Propp'd on mv stick, in sleep to close my eye. 
 Now then I tafk ; now letting down the glass, 
 Catch the wild landscapes living as they pass. 
 Art ne'er to littleness reformed the scene, 
 Still great in native majesty of mien. 
 
 Thus, as your squire in dreams of taste is lost, 
 The stopping coach invites to tea and toast; 
 Where Buxton, bearing o'er her dreary vale, 
 Calls from the hills her tinctured springs to heal ; 
 
 * The inn-keeper then at the Bath Inn. t Pope. 
 ; Pope. The Militia.
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES 
 
 And the gay sick, beneath the wax-lights blaze, 
 Swim through the minuet's ever graceful maze. 
 
 Next we roll heavy o'er the smoother roads, 
 And in four hours reach Ashhurne's mean abodes. 
 Tired with the tedious stage we light in haste ; 
 And our keen stomachs hope a good repast. 
 Fools as we were, though innocent of blame, 
 
 The always had a starving fame. 
 
 And more, some hungry peasants from the fair 
 Had rudely ravishd half our slender cheer. 
 Forced by our fate, on goose alone we dine, 
 But try in vain to drink the nauseous wine. 
 
 Fretted again we mount, again we roll ; 
 Down streams the rain, and night steals o'er the pole. 
 For the first hour we all in silence move, 
 To the rain's rattling on the coach above. 
 But raised bv chance, the converse freely flows, 
 Now swells in poetry, now glides in prose ; 
 And Shakespeare, Jonson, Otway, Steele and Young, 
 Rise to receive their sentence from our tongue. 
 
 But critic converse can't for ever please ; 
 Tired, we dismiss them to enjoy our ease. 
 Shrunk in our corners, we attempt to doze, 
 And wait impatient for the journey's close. 
 Till through each glass the lamps of DERBY glare, 
 And the loud curfew tolls us to our fare. 
 
 SECTION II. 
 
 If we were warranted in exclaiming, as we drew 
 near to the threshold of Davy the philosopher (i Prot-ul, 
 O procul'' ! at least with equal reason may we so ex- 
 press ourselves, in approaching Whitaker the Historian. 
 
 Our Author's literary life was now commencing. It 
 was in 1771 that Mr. Whitaker published the first vo- 
 lume of the History of Manchester, in quarto; a work 
 which, for keen research, bold imagination, original sen- 
 timent and correct information, has scarcely its parallel 
 in the literature of any country. Nor dees its compo-
 
 MEMOIRS OF WHITAKER. 9 
 
 sition less deserve our applause ; whether we have re- 
 spect to the arrangement of the materials, the style or 
 the language. In some passages, there is much ele- 
 gance; in others, a magnificence of thought, a force of 
 expression, a glow of diction truly astonishing. The 
 introduction of Christianity into this island, in particu- 
 lar, is described we had almost said with the pen of in- 
 spiration.* 
 
 In 1773, Mr. Whitaker published an octavo edition 
 of the First Book of the History of Manchester, in two 
 volumes.t 
 
 * From Preface to Vol. I. Quarto. " The Author wishes 
 to catch the general appearance of the Island^ the County and 
 the Town, as it varies in the several stages of their histories. 
 He designs to delineate the gradual progress of the arts, and to 
 trace the successive growth of civility in all. The most strik- 
 ing facts of history to a philosophical spirit, are the annals of 
 the human mind. To design all this is certainly bold. To 
 execute all this is probably impracticable. But to design 
 boldly is absolutely necessary, either in morality or in literature, 
 in order to execute tolerably. We always unavoidably sink 
 below the standard, in practice. And a great plan frequently 
 kindles a new spirit in the soul, calls out unknown powers in 
 the mind, and raises the writer and the man superior to himself 
 in the execution." 
 
 ***** 
 
 " Though thus excursive, the author was cautious of dis- 
 tracting attention by a confused variety. Every opening is 
 made to carry an actual reference either mediate or immediate, 
 to the regular history of Manchester. And every vista is em- 
 ployed only for the useful purpose of breaking the stiff straight 
 lines, of lighting up the dark, of heightening the little, and of 
 colouring over the lifeless." pp. viii, ix. 
 
 t For the " Introduction of Christianity into Britain" I turn 
 to the second volume of this Edition, pp. 182 187, where the 
 Author has pruned away some trivial exuberances occurring in 
 the " Introduction of Christianity" in the Quarto, Vol. I. pp. 
 397399. 
 
 " Amidst the wild wanderings of disordered religion, the 
 two primary institutions of God, priests and sacrifices, and the 
 three principal doctrines of a superintending Providence, the 
 world's final destruction, and the world's continuance in a fu- 
 ture period of existence, were all carefully retained by the Bri- 
 tons. The great incident of the Fall occasioned the institutions 
 at first. And it was still pointed out by the observances. If 
 the Deity had not known man to have sunk from his original
 
 10 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES 
 
 In 1775, Mr. "Whitaker published the second vo- 
 lume of the Manchester in quarto. 
 
 perfection, and if heathenism had not believed a corruption to 
 have stained his original purity, the former could not hare en- 
 joined or the latter have retained these particular observances 
 at all." 
 
 " But there was something in the Druidical species of hea- 
 thenism, that was peculiarly calculated to arrest the attention 
 and impress the mind. The rudely majestic circle of stones in 
 their temples, the enormous Cromlech, the massy Logan, the 
 huge Carnedde, and the magnificent amphitheatre of woods, 
 would all very strongly lay hold on that religious thoughtful- 
 ness of soul, which has been ever so natural to man amid all 
 the wrecks of humanity, the monument of his former perfection. 
 
 " In this state of religion among the Britons of Lancashire, 
 the Romans entered the county. And their own system was 
 fully as wild a combination of human vice and folly, more 
 splendid, and less cruel ; yet less retaining the illustrious doc- 
 trines of Grod's superintendance, the seternity of the soul, and 
 the transitoriness of matter ; and less adapted to touch the re- 
 ligious string of the heart. But the Britons, on their imitating 
 the manners of their conquerors, would naturally adopt their 
 Theology ; and as readily class the Roman with the British 
 deities, as the Roman incorporated the British with their own. 
 This strange conduct of exchanging divinities, so common to 
 them and all the other heathens, was the natural result of a con- 
 scious want of satisfaction in arrightworship, and a mis-directed 
 desire of supplying the place of the one by multiplying the ob- 
 jects of the other. And yet it would become subservient to 
 the more ready introduction of both within the pale of the 
 Christian religion. Both must, in consequence of it, have been 
 less addicted to either. And the Britons half-romanized an;J 
 the Romans half-britonized, in their idolatry, would necessarily 
 lose all that attachment to their national religion, which is 
 merely th servant of prejudice, and yet the strongest barrier 
 generally against a conversion." 
 
 " In this state of the national faith, Christianity was broHght 
 into Britain. This had happily prepared the islanders for a 
 more favorable attention to it. And it was a religion that 
 drew aside the curtain of heathen ignorance, and laid open to 
 the view the genuine nature of God, the genuine nature of man, 
 and the duties and rewards resulting from both. It placed a 
 true and real Divinity at the head of the creation; a Nature, 
 {Eternal in duration, unlimited in power, and unconfined by 
 space ; an Intelligence, unerringly wise and unweariedly pro- 
 vident ; and a Will, infinitely just, unspeakably kind, and in- 
 conceivably pure. And it represented man to have been once 
 exactly fitted to his sphere of ?ction, all moral harmony within,
 
 MEMOIRS OF WHITAKER. 11 
 
 With regard to the general subject of the Manches- 
 ter, Mr. Whitaker was unquestionably the first writer 
 who could so light up the region of antiquarianism, as 
 to dissipate its obscurity, even to the eyes of ordinary 
 spectators : and his Manchester is perhaps the only 
 book in which the truth of our island-history has been 
 elucidated by the hand of a master. It is rather singu- 
 lar that we have to rate this admirable work in the order 
 of merit, as well as of time, the first of Whitaker's pub- 
 lications.* 
 
 and all natural order without, the central point of this lower 
 creation, and a probationer for a happy .eternity in a higher. 
 It then reversed the glass, and shewed him no longer moving in 
 the orbit of duty, and receiving light and warmth from the Di- 
 yinity, but voluntarily stooping to sin, and necessarily sub- 
 jected to wretchedness; his body diseased, his understanding 
 darkened, and the little empire of his passions and appetites all 
 risen in rebellion against his reason. It found his mind per- 
 plexed with doubts and his soul distracted with fears, conscious 
 of weaknesses that required the assistance of some kind inter- 
 cession, and sensible of guilt that needed the aid of some 
 friendly atonement : but vainly casting a wishful eye for one 
 and the other through all the compass of created nature ; sink- 
 ing therefore under the "weight of sin, and shuddering with hor- 
 rour at the world unknown. And it displayed this kind inter- 
 coder, it pointed out this benevolent atoner, to the eye of des- 
 pairing roan ; One fully qualified to mediate from the purity 
 of his will, and One absolutely enabled to atone from the dig- 
 nity of his nature ; a man interceding for the ruined manhood, 
 and a God appeasing the offended Godhead ; a Friend descend- 
 ing from the throne of Heaven, and a Saviour conducting us to 
 the happiness of it. Such a system of religion, sanctioned as it 
 was by precedent prophecies, and authenticated by accompany- 
 ing miracles, must carry conviction of its divinity to the soul, 
 melt even the obstinacy of prejudice, and proselyte even the 
 profligacy of guilt. 
 
 " This then, the genuine religion of our nature, which echoes 
 the sentiments of every feeling heart, and reflects the ideas of 
 every thinking mind, was introduced into Britain as early as 
 the period of the apostles. There, has it ever continued since, 
 exalting the intellect and refining the passions, the parent of 
 many a genuine saint. And may it ever continue there, the en- 
 livening ray of our reason, and the purifying principle of our 
 conduct, till creation shall sink in the final flame, and proba- 
 tion he succeeded by the final allotment!" 
 
 * In Napier's Supplement to the Encyclopedia Brit. Vol.
 
 12 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES 
 
 " The Genuine History of the Britons Asserted,** an 
 8vo. volume (first published in 1772, and then a second 
 edition corrected in 1773) may be accepted as an ap- 
 pendage to the Manchester. It contains a complete re- 
 futation of the " unhappy Macpherson ," whose ll In- 
 troduction to the History of Great Britain and Ireland," 
 is full of palpable mistakes and misrepresentations.* 
 
 vS. we hate a Memoir of Whitaker, signed W. W. W. written 
 with much acrimony. "HisHistory of Manchester his ramb- 
 ling manner his impatience and vivacityrendered him incapable 
 of selecting his topics, and condensing his thoughts." 
 
 Dr. Aikin is more candid." The lively style, varied matter, 
 learned research and ingenious conjecture of this performance, 
 raised the Author to literary eminence." 
 
 " In his 2nd Volume (Quarto) he has framed a connected 
 story of Prince Arthur ; inferring from a few scattered notices, 
 a series of actions which might have happened, though there 
 be no evidence that they ever did." See Aikin's Biography. 
 
 Bishop Bennett and Mr. Lemon, both first rate Antiquaries, 
 used to speak of "the Manchester" in terms of unqualified 
 applause. 
 
 * " I have constantly charged him home upon the leading 
 particulars of the question. And when I have shewn the insuf- 
 ficiency of any argument as to its principal end and design, I 
 have then endeavoured to point out its subordinate mistakes. 
 I have endeavoured to break its phalanx ; and when the rout 
 was begun, I have studied to improve the victory, by pursuing 
 the runaways. These troops indeed were more formidable in 
 their appearance on the field than I have found them in the day 
 of battle. The gaiety of their attire, and bravery of their as- 
 pects, promised a much greater resistance than I have met from 
 them. And I, who entered upon the contest with a dubious 
 spirit, and a tremulous exertion of courage, soon warmed with 
 my own success, and became assured of the victory." 
 
 "Blest by nature with the power, but not borrowing from 
 the schools the habit of thinking, the turn of his argumenta- 
 tion is continually irregular, and the general force of his rea- 
 soning weak and feeble. He is admirably adapted for the brisk 
 essays of a skirmishing war. But he has unwarily entered into 
 a battle, where heavy armour and practised evolutions are sure 
 to gain the day." 
 
 "He does not examine his arguments severely; throwing 
 himself out in a rich irradiation of language; as the birds under 
 the tropics have their superior gaiety of plumage deducted to 
 them by the deprivation of almost all the powers of harmony." 
 
 " It is not the unhappiness of Mr. Macpherson that he is
 
 MEMOIRS OF WHITAKER. 13 
 
 In 1773 we find Mr. W. in London, the morning 
 Preacher of Berkeley -Chapel. To this office he had 
 been appointed in November, by a Mr. Hughes, but 
 in less than two months was removed from his situation. 
 This gave occasion to " the case between Mr. W. and 
 Mr. H. relative to the morning preachership of B. 
 Chapel :" in which Mr. W. declared that he " was 
 unalterably determined to carry the matter into West- 
 minster-hall." But (as no friend of W. informs us) 
 the fervor of his resentment threw him off his guard ; 
 and he expressed himself so indiscreetly, that his case 
 was considered as a libel by the Court of King's 
 Bench.* 
 
 During his residence in London, Whitakerhad an 
 opportunity of conversing with several of our most ce- 
 lebrated writers ; among whom were the author of the 
 Rambler, and the Historian of the Roman empire. I 
 designate Johnson as the author of the Rambier; be- 
 cause the Rambler was preferred by Whitaker to all 
 Johnson's other productions, 
 
 mistaken in some unimportant circumstances. It is not his 
 unhappiness, that he has misrepresented several incidents of 
 importance. And it is not his unhappiness, that he has failed 
 occasionally, or yet frequently in essential incidents in argu- 
 ments of the first magnitude. But it is his singular infelicity, 
 that he has almost regularly failed in all ; that scarcely a 
 circumstance, a fact, or a reasoning, however slight, is just or 
 apposite, that nearly every important circumstance and every 
 essential argument, are either frivolous in their nature, or use- 
 less in their application ; and that each capital and leading 
 topic of the work, is generally one great chaos of undigested 
 materials, arguments without shape or form, reasonings 
 heterogeneous and repugnant, and darkness brooding over the 
 face of the whole ! This is such a delineation of a work of 
 learning and genius, that ray benevolence is hurt, while 
 justice urges my hand to draw it." pp. 295 300 303. 
 
 * " He thought proper to communicate his grievances to 
 the Public, in the "State of the Case between Mr.W. and Mr. 
 Hughes, relative to the Morning Preachership of Berkeley 
 Chapel." Loud. 1774. 4to. Napier's Supplement. 
 
 It is very possible, that aggrieved as W. considered himself, 
 he might have been intemperate in his expressions of resent- 
 ment. I have in vain made enquiries in London for this pub- 
 u
 
 14 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES. 
 
 It does not appear, indeed, that Johnson was 
 much attached to our author. Both strong in under- 
 standing, equally tenacious of opinion, and equally 
 impassioned in conversation, it is not probable, that 
 they should amicably coalesce on all occasions. In the 
 Ossianic controversy they were decidedly hostile. 
 
 With Gibbon, Mr. W. was intimately acquainted : 
 and the MS. of the first volume of " the Decline and 
 Fall of the Roman Empire," was submitted to Whita- 
 ker's inspection. But, what was his surprise, when, 
 as he read the same volume in print, that chapter, 
 which has been so justly obnoxious to the Christian world, 
 was then, for the first time, introduced to his notice ! 
 That chapter Gibbon had suppressed in the MS. over- 
 awed by Whitaker's high character, and afraid of his 
 censure. And, in fact, that the Deist should have 
 shrunk from his indignant eye, may well be conceived, 
 when we see his Christian principle, and his manly spirit 
 uniting in the rejection of a living of considerable value, 
 which was at that time offered him by a Unitarian patron : 
 He spurned at the temptation, and pitied the seducer!* 
 
 This was an interval in which some admirable letters 
 passed between Whitaker and Gibbon. 
 
 lication ; as I had a strong wish, (putting curiosity out of the 
 question) to be enabled to judge of the merits of theiase, 
 unbiassed by the representation of friends or enemies. 
 
 * " In order to render this anecdote intelligible (says 
 Napier) some further information seems to be required. 
 Were his principles so pure and rigid, that he could only 
 accept of preferment from a patron of confirmed and approved 
 orthodoxy 2 Or did this nameless patron offer him the Living, 
 under the condition, express or implied, that he should become 
 a convert to the Unitarian creed ? With respect to the first 
 question, it is evident, that many pious Divines have accepted 
 preferment from patrons who had apparently no religion ; 
 and with respect to the second, it is equally evident, that no 
 patron possessing common sense, could expect a beneficed 
 Clergyman to make an open avowal of opinions 'which the 
 Church has formally condemned as heretical." On this sub- 
 ject, the patron wished merely to silence Whitaker, as a prime 
 Minister has been known to silence many on the subject of 
 Catholic Emancipation. My friend was expected only te 
 " stop his fluent pen" and to "-hold his audacious tongue."
 
 MEMOIRS OF WHJTAKER. 15 
 
 The first from Manchester, July 20, 1773, relates 
 to Ossian and Prince Arthur, and the Divinity of 
 Tithes.* 
 
 LETTER I. 
 
 MR. ffaiTAKBR TO EDITARD GIBBON, Esq. 
 
 " Your judgment concerning any attempt to rescue the 
 character and actions of Arthur from the accumulated shade 
 of 1200 years, as it is the result of a careful and attentive 
 perusal, has gratified the spirit of authorship about me very 
 much. As you have shewn by pointing out some of the 
 faults in the work, that you are superior to the usual mode 
 of treating authors, I lay the greater stress upon it ; and as 
 you had taken a different route in your own work, I lay 
 still greater. You think, however, that I too peremptorily 
 censured Dr. Kurd with regard to his asserted origin of chi- 
 valry, and that indeed my origin of it, is not so just as his. 
 As to the former, I am ready to own, and I do voluntarily 
 acknowledge, that there is a vein of presumptuousness and 
 decisiveness running throughout the whole of the first as 
 well as the second volume, which (after I had published 
 the first) I stood amazed at on a review ; and can only ac- 
 count for my being betrayed into it, by the natural san- 
 guineness of my temper, heightened by the real or supposed 
 discoveries that I had made, and venting itself unconnected 
 in the solitude of a study. And I corrected it in my se- 
 cond edition of the first volume, that I published last winter ; 
 and have also corrected it some weeks ago in that copy of 
 the second which I am re-preparing for the press. But the 
 censure itself (if it may be called a censure) seems to me to 
 be just. You think that the whole argument for my placing 
 the origin of chivalry in the age of Arthur, rests upon this, 
 that his warriors shared with him the dangers of battle and 
 the feast of victory : but I apprehend that it does not. I have 
 noted, that a military order appears to have existed among 
 Arthur's knights, from the continuance of it near 100 years 
 after his death (p. 533 and 536) ; and this, I think, entirely 
 precludes your objection and Dr. Kurd's hypothesis. 
 
 * See Lord Sheffield's Gibbon's Miscellaneous Works, Vol. 
 III. 587 593. quart.
 
 16 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES. 
 
 " What you observe concerning the enthusiasm of my 
 style and sentiments in the religious part of the work, is 
 more just, I think. That of the style is the natural ope- 
 ration of my over-vivacity when I wrote it, near five years 
 ago, raised and coloured by what (I hope) I shall ever re- 
 tain, my unbounded admiration of the Christian system. But 
 I had mellowed and softened both in my corrected copy, 
 before I received yours, and have thrown in some additional 
 softenings since. * I wish to write like a man who is deeply 
 impressed with the sensibilities of religion ; and I have 
 even the fond desire of speaking usefully to the heart, when 
 I am generally writing only to the head. But I do not 
 want to counteract my own purposes. I know the philoso- 
 phic air of coldness with whicli the present age affects to 
 receive any notices of religion : and some prudential defer- 
 ence must be paid to the irreligious humour." 
 * * * * 
 
 " With respect to the clergy and their tythes, I own that 
 my work would have been better adapted to the taste of 
 many in the present time, if I had, with one of Mr. Hume's 
 superior airs, treated the clergy very freely; inveighed 
 against ambition in them, and yet considered it as the great 
 stimulus to virtuous actions in the laity, and branded them 
 for an avarice which was founded only in the surmises of an 
 ungenerous suspicion. But surely it does not become any 
 man of sentiment and spirit to write in the strain of popular 
 prejudice, and to sacrifice the praises of future generations to 
 the applause of the present. The time will soon come, when 
 this momentary vapour will give way to others, be lost and 
 forgotten in the common mass, or be remembered only for 
 a while, because of the odd and fantastic shapes that it as- 
 sumed. And this will serve equally a.s my apology for the 
 assertion which seems so striking to you, that of the divine 
 institution of tythes. They appear to me as divine now, as 
 they are acknowledged to nave been at first: and I see not 
 how the argument that is urged in the text for their divi- 
 nity, can possibly be overthrown."* 
 
 * " It is no small reproach to the human understanding, that a 
 man of Mr. Whitaker's abilities should maintain such opinions. 
 It was supposed, to the credit of the English clergy, that 
 scarcely one of them in this enlightened age believed in, or in- 
 sisted on, the divinity of tythes. Their diTinity is surely now 
 no more acknowledged than that of all those laws of Moses 
 contained in the Levitical Code, which were abolished on the 
 introduction of Christianity." S,
 
 MEMOIRS OF WHITAKER. 17 
 
 Here we have Gibbon's opinion of Ossian. 
 
 LETTER II. 
 E. GIBBON TO J. WHITAKER. 
 
 Bentinck-street, Oct. 16, 1775. 
 DEAR SIR, 
 
 Though the hurry of a thousand avocations will not allow 
 me to make you a long epistolatory visit, they shall not pre- 
 vent me from making a short enquiry into the present state 
 of your health, your business, and your intentions, with re- 
 gard to London, for the ensuing Winter. 
 
 For my own part, about February next, I intend to oppress 
 the Public with a quarto of about five or six hundred pages, and 
 am only concerned that the happy choice of the subject will 
 leave no excuse for the feebleness of the execution. 1 do not 
 say this from any false modesty, but from a real conscious- 
 ness that I am below my own ideas of historical merit. In a 
 few days our political campaign will open, and we shall find 
 ourselves engaged in carrying on the most serious business, 
 perhaps, that the Empire has ever known. A dark cloud 
 still hangs over it, and though it may be necessary to pro- 
 ceed, the contest will be difficult, and the event doubtful, 
 Your municipal glory is however secure, and Mancunium, 
 in sounding the alarm, has displayed the zeal which generally 
 succeeds a sincere and recent conversion. With regard to 
 your old friend Ossian, the dogmatic language of Johnson, 
 and the acquiescence or indifference of the Scotch, particular- 
 ly of Macpherson, seem to have given the bard a dangerous, 
 if not a mortal wound. It appears at least to be the pre- 
 vailing opinion, that truth and falsehood, the Highland bal- 
 lads, and the fancy of the translator are blended together in 
 such a manner, that unless he himself should condescend to 
 give the clue, there is no power of criticism capable of un. 
 t.vistin? them. 
 
 I am, dear Sir, your faithful and obedient servant, 
 
 E.GlBBON.* 
 
 I shall print the remaining correspondence of Whit- 
 aker with Gibbon, almost entire. 
 
 * This letter was communicated to me by Whitaker, which 
 I possess in Gibbon's hand writing. 
 B. 2
 
 18 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES. 
 
 LETTER III. 
 
 MR. JFaiTAKER TO EDWARD GIBBON, ESQ. 
 
 Saturday, Feb. 24, 1776. 
 DEAR SIR, 
 
 I have just now received the favour of your History, and 
 I would not delay the acknowledgment. I expect equal 
 information and entertainment from it. In that expectation 
 1 shall sit down to it next week ; and when I have gone 
 over the whole, you shall hear from me again, without flat- 
 tery, though not perhaps without partiality. In the mean 
 time, if I thought I might trouble you so soon after my late 
 tax upon you, I would send you a dozen of covers, and beg 
 you to take the trouble of addressing them to Miss Holme, 
 of Brownhill, Rochdale, Lancashire. She is not a mere 
 goddess in Platonic vision. And, if you knew what an 
 elegant, sensible, and spirited correspondence betwixt her 
 and a Welsh lady you would promote by the flourish of 
 your pen, you would run it over a few half-sheets with 
 pleasure. 
 
 Your history found me engaged in another History, a 
 work long designed by me, but now executing on a new plan, 
 and therefore with a new title. It is to be called the Military 
 History of the Romans in Britain, and will consequently 
 take in all their military transactions here, and endeavour to 
 place them in new points of view. I have already finished 
 two chapters upon this model, and have gone through the 
 two expeditions of Caesar in them. 
 
 I hope your anti-American spirits, Sir, are in a higher flow 
 than they were when I had last the pleasure of hearing from 
 you. Manchester lias taken a decided part against the Ame- 
 ricans. And, having beaten the petitioners out of the field 
 in action, we are now attacking them in the London papers, 
 and driving them from their last refuge there. 
 
 I remain, Dear Sir, 
 Your most devoted and very humble 
 Friend and Servant, 
 
 J. WHITAKER.
 
 MEMOIRS OP WHITAKER. 19 
 
 LETTER IV. 
 
 MR. IVaiTAKER TO EDTTARD GIBBON, Esq. 
 No. 29, Fetter-lane, March 
 
 SIR, 
 
 It was not till yesterday, that I knew to whom I was in- 
 debted for your obliging communication of last week. It 
 was, before, a sort of fairy favour. And I supposed, with 
 regret, that it was in vain to inquire after the invisible hand 
 which had reached it out to me. But yesterday, casting a 
 casual look upon the outer cover, I there saw what I had not 
 observed before, a note from Mr. White the bookseller. This 
 naturally led me to inquire of him. And from him 1 had the 
 satisfaction to learn, that my unknown and friendly corres- 
 pondent was Mr. Gibbon. To Mr. Gibbon therefore I re- 
 turn my cordial thanks for the obliging manner in which he 
 speaks of the History of Manchester, and my more cordial 
 for his two remarks upon it. These have pointed out a track 
 of thinking, with which I was but little acquainted before. 
 And I should be glad to enter upon it in company with such 
 a guide, and pursue it to its termination. Cannot Mr. Gib- 
 bon and I, therefore, contrive to spend an hour together 
 upon the subject ? I shall be very happy in waiting upon 
 Mr. Gibbon at his own appointment, and either in Bentinck- 
 street, Fetter-lane, or a Coffee-house. And I shall be glad 
 to cultivate the acquaintance of a gentleman, who seems to be, 
 what few even of our professed scholars are, very conversant 
 with the earlier history of our country. 
 
 In the meantime I have the pleasure to subscribe myself 
 Mr. Gibbon's 
 
 obliged and most devoted 
 
 humble Servant, 
 
 J. WHITAKER. 
 
 LETTER V. 
 
 MR. JVaiTAKER TO EDWARD GIBBOX, Esq. 
 
 Manchester, 4pril2\st, 1776. 
 DEAR SIR, 
 
 I have just finished your History : and I sit down to thank 
 you for it a second time. You have laid open the interior
 
 20 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES. 
 
 principles of the Roman Constitution with great learning, and 
 shewn their operation on the general body of the Empire 
 with great judgment. Your work therefore will do you high 
 honour. Younever speak feebly, except when you co'me upon 
 British ground, and never weakly, except when you attack 
 Christianity. In the former case, you seem to me to want 
 information. And, in the latter, you plainly want the com- 
 mon candour of a citizen of the world for th'e religious sys- 
 tem of your country. Pardon me, Sir, but, much as I admire 
 your abilities, greatly as I respect your friendship, I cannot 
 bear without indignation your sarcastic slyness upon Christ- 
 ianity, and cannot see without pity your determined hostility 
 to the Gospel. But 1 leave the subject to beg a favour of 
 you. After so open a declaration, I pay a great compliment 
 to the friendliness of your spirit, to solicit from you any 
 favour. 
 
 I have inclosed you a printed paper, written by myself, 
 and relating to a Bill for this town, which is now in the 
 House. It was drawn up with the utmost plainness, in order 
 to be level to the comprehensions of the persons to whom it 
 was addressed. And I take the liberty of sending it to you, 
 to inform you of the nature and complexion of the Bill. You 
 may depend upon all the facts in it. And if you think the 
 arguments convincing in themselves, and the cause for my 
 sake worthy of your interposition, you will perhaps think it 
 requisite, either by application to the Committee or by an 
 overture to the House, to get a couple of restraining para 
 graphs inserted in the Bill ; that shall make every subscriber 
 to the improvements a commissioner under the Act, and oblige 
 the commissioners to finish all the improvements in a limited 
 time. In doing this, you will check a spirit of tyranny, that 
 has shewn itself very powerfully in this region of mercantile 
 equality, and confine it within proper bounds. And you will 
 particularly oblige your friend, who, with a great promptness 
 to submit to the authority of his legal superiors, feels a 
 greater reluctance to truckle to the assumed dominion of his 
 equals. 
 
 I write to Sir Thomas Egerton by this post, and upon this 
 occasion. But, as his friends here are divided upon the mat- 
 ter, I am doubtful whether he will choose to interpose in it. 
 I shall write also to one or two other friends of mine in the 
 House. But as I have not the same claim of friendship upon 
 them, which you allow me to have upon you, I rely princi- 
 pally upon your interposition. And if you can serve the 
 thinking part of this town, if you can oblige me, you will (I 
 am convinced) do both.
 
 MEMOIRS OF WHITAKER. 21 
 
 Let me add to this favour, which is merely a public and 
 political one, another of a more private and tender nature. 
 Will you make some of your servants fold me up a dozen 
 covers, and inscribe them yourself to Miss Holme, Brownhill, 
 Rochdale, Lancashire ? If you will, you will heighten the 
 former favour, and make me still more 
 
 Your affectionate Friend and Servant, 
 
 J. WHITAKER. 
 
 LETTER VI. 
 
 MR. WBITAKER TO EDWARD GIBBON, Esq. 
 
 Manchester, May llth, 1776. 
 DEAR SIR, 
 
 I thank you for your franks. And 1 thank you still more 
 for your friendly return to my last. You received my appli- 
 cation to you about the business in Parliament with your 
 usual kindness. I wrote to others of my friends in the House 
 at the same time. And I carried the great point which I 
 aimed at. You also received my animadversions upon your 
 History with candour. I was particularly pointed, I believe, 
 in what I said concerning the religious pare of it. I wrote 
 from my feelings at the time ; and was perhaps the less in- 
 clined to suppress those feelings from friendliness, because I 
 had two favours to beg of you. I hope I shall ever be attached, 
 with every power of my judgment and my affection, to that 
 glorious system of truth which is the vital principle of happi- 
 ness to my soul in time and in eternity. And in this I act 
 not from any " restraints of profession." I should despise 
 myself if i did. I act from the fullest conviction of a mind 
 that has been a good deal exercised in inquiries into truth, 
 and that has shewn (I fancy) a strong spirit of rational 
 scepticism in rejecting and refuting a variety of opinions, 
 which have passed current for ages m our national history. 
 
 With regard to what I said concerning 1 your British ac- 
 counts, I meant not to blame you, for not saying all 
 that you knew concerning our island. I blamed you only 
 for not noticing some particulars, that made a necessary part 
 of your narration, and are mentioned by the best authorities. 
 These, however, if never so true, are but trifles light as 
 air in my estimation, \yhcn they are compared with what I
 
 22 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES. 
 
 think the great blot of your work. You have there exhi- 
 bited Deism in a new shape, and in one that is more likely 
 to affect the uninstructed million, than the reasoning form 
 which she has usually worn. You seem to me like another 
 Tacitus, revived with all his animosity against Christianity, 
 his strong philosophical spirit of sentiment, and more than 
 his superiority to the absurdities of heathenism. And 
 you will have the dishonour (pardon me, Sir) of being 
 ranked by the folly of scepticism, that is working so power- 
 fully at present, among the most distinguished deists of the 
 age. I have long suspected the tendency of your opinions. 
 1 once took the liberty of hinting my suspicions. But I 
 did not think the poison had spread so universally through 
 your frame. And I can only deplore the misfortune, and a 
 very great one I consider it, to the highest and dearest in- 
 terests of man among all your readers. 
 
 These must be very numerous. I see you are getting a 
 second edition already. I giveyoujoy of it. Audi remain, 
 with an equal mixture of regret and regard, 
 
 Your obliged Friend and Servant, 
 
 J. WHITAKER. 
 
 It is much to the honor of Lord Sheffield, that his Lord- 
 ship calls this "a manly and spirited declaration in favour 
 of the principles of the Established Church, and against 
 the perversion of those opinions which constitute the 
 greatest comfort and consolation of the Christian world.'' 
 
 Would that Warton, and Vincent, and Cooke and 
 Robertsonhad written in the same strain ! tl I presume 
 you have heard that offence is taken at some passages 
 that are thought unfavourable to the truth of Christiani- 
 ty! May I hope for the honor of seeing you at this 
 place ?" So says Dr. Joseph Warton.* 
 
 " I have not yet read the last two chapters, but am 
 sorry he has taken such a tone in them as will hurt the 
 sale of the Book!"t " The tone you take with your 
 adversary in the impar congressus, appears to me per- 
 fectly proper. Davies's book never reached us here. 
 
 499. 
 
 * See Sheffield's Gibbon, Vol. III. p. 601. 
 
 Dr. Robertson to Strahan Sheffield's Gibbon, Vol. I. p.
 
 MEMOIRS OF WHITAKER. 23 
 
 We hear sometimes of the worthless things that float 
 for a day on the stream, but we never see them."* 
 
 In a most scornful manner Dr. Robertson asks: 
 " Who is this Mr. Hayley ? His Whiggism is so bigot- 
 ed, and his Christianity so fierce, that he almost dis- 
 gusts one with two very good things !"t 
 
 Such is Robertson. 
 
 Vincent apologises for " Professional prejudices"! ! !| 
 and Cooke speaks in rapture of the " precious vo- 
 lumes"!!! 
 
 Bishop Watson is too courteous. He writes to 
 Gibbon " with every sentiment of respect" ! ! ! a Chris- 
 tian Bishop to an insidious unbeliever. 
 
 SECTION III. 
 
 In 1777,^[ Mr. Whitaker succeeded, as Fellow of 
 C. C. C., to the Rectory of Ruan Lanyhorne, one of 
 the most valuable IrVings in the gift of that College; 
 and into Cornwall he came to reside upon his Rectory. 
 
 Here it might have been expected, that retirement 
 and leisure would greatly favour the pursuits of litera- 
 ture. But Ruan Lanyhorne was for several years no 
 tranquil seat of the Muses. That pleasant seclusion 
 was now the scene of contest a contest, however, 
 absolutely unavoidable. Mr. W. had proposed a tithe 
 composition by no means unreasonable, as all have been 
 long ago convinced. The compositions, indeed, with the 
 present Rector (much higher than with Whitaker) are 
 
 * Robertson to Gibbon. Sheffield, Vol I. p. 539. 
 
 t Sheffield, Vol. I. p. 539. 
 
 . Sheffield, Vol. Ill, pp. 669677. 
 
 Sheffield, Vol. I. p. 537. ForGibbon's remarks on his an- 
 tagonists, see Sheffield Vol. I. atpp 153, 154, 155, 150 159, 100, 
 161, 162. 
 
 Jaly 16th. on tfie death of Mr. Henchman.
 
 24 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES 
 
 universally admitted in proof of Whitaker's moderation. 
 His parishioners rudely rejected his terms : marshalled 
 by Captain Luke, they at once entered the field of con- 
 tention with a front of daring defiance. And it was 
 vainly attempted to meet the violence of the selfish and 
 the illiterate with an appeal to equity, to candour, or to 
 reason. The Ruanties had not the most specious pre- 
 tence for their resistance. It was no season of scarcity : 
 agriculture had not suffered the depression which it hath 
 since, at several periods, sustained. But there is a cupidi- 
 ty, an obstinacy, an insolence in many of our farming 
 gentry, which has more and more, indeed, increased with 
 the march of intellect. It was not from Ruan Lany- 
 horne, but from a parish in Cornwall not twenty miles 
 distant from Ruan Lanyhorne, that we saw " insolence" 
 enough in an answer to the following question in 1S04: 
 "What is the cause of the scarcity?" The answer 
 was : " Parsons, proctors, rats, and sparrows.'* 
 
 But to return to our subject. The Rector was steady 
 to his purpose ; the tithes were demanded in kind ; dis- 
 putes arose upon disputes ; animosities were kindled ; 
 and litigations took place. 
 
 That he was finally victorious afforded pleasure to the 
 friends of the Rector, and to the friends of justice and 
 truth : yet it was long before harmony was restored to 
 Ruan Lanyhorne. 
 
 That his literary schemes had been interrupted so soon 
 after his arrival hi Cornwall ; where, in a quiet retreat, 
 he had anticipated those luxuries of mental enjoyment 
 "most native to his soul," was with the Author a dis. 
 heartening subject of regret. But the conscientious 
 Pastor looked with a deeper concern to the spiritual 
 welfare of his flock. With sorrow he saw their aversion 
 from his preaching, their indifference to his instruction, 
 their repugnance to his authority; and "he laboured 
 more abundantly ;" till, after a few years, he had the sa- 
 tisfaction to perceive a visible alteration in the behaviour 
 of the principal parishioners. With the poorer families, 
 indeed, who were not implicated in the contest, he lived
 
 MEMOIRS OF WHITAKER. 25 
 
 en terms of perfect amity. The cottages appeared 
 like so many appendages to the Rectory : and there 
 was a good neighbourhood between all an intercourse 
 resembling almost that primaeval simplicity which the 
 poets describe, 
 
 -" When the friendly shade 
 
 Of night, unnaark'd by prowling rapine, bore 
 No pale suspicion on its darksome wins? 
 To hover at the unbolted gate; where Truth 
 And Confidence unlimited could boast 
 The unalloy'd delight that freely springs 
 From happiness reciprocally shared." 
 In short, that cordial that familiar manner, which 
 was a strong feature in his character, was always 
 pleasing to those whom prejudice had not armed against 
 him, and conciliatory to many who from misrepresenta- 
 tion were disposed to think ill of him. And in propor- 
 tion as his people became acquainted with his kind 
 disposition, the transitoriness of his resentments, and 
 after injuries his promptness to forgive and anxious wish 
 to be forgiven, they endeavoured to cultivate his friend- 
 ship, and at length loved and revered him as their father. 
 Nothing can more fully display the warmth of his 
 affections, his zeal as a minister of Christ, or his im- 
 passioned style of eloquence, than those addresses from 
 the pulpit ; some of which selected for the press we 
 shall shortly have occasion to characterise. 
 
 Jiut, before we converse with the Theologian we 
 shall contemplate the Historian and the Antiquary 
 tasking refuge in the recesses of his study, and reposing, 
 after many a painful struggle, secure from insult or im- 
 pertinence. 
 
 The " Mary Queen of Scots" was published in 178T 
 in three 8vo. volumes.* 
 
 * From Preface to Second Edition, dated Ruan Lanyhornc, 
 1788. 
 
 " I have used" (says W. apologising for a weakness too 
 apparent in his character) " a quickness of language at 
 times, of which my more gentle reader may be hurl in his feel- 
 ings. But let the gentlest of my readers reflect, that such a 
 wanner is unavoidable, from the natureand circumstances of the 
 controversy. All controversy is in the literary world, what 
 all war is in the political an evil necessarily incident to the 
 wretchedness of our present state. In war, such acts are law-
 
 26 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES. 
 
 " Of Afary Queen of Scots" (says Napier) i( he 
 published an enlarged edition in 1790; and he seems 
 
 ful as would be criminal out of it. Blows and wounds then be* 
 come licensed outrages. Just so, in controversy, a harshness 
 of reprehension and a provoking pointedness of triumph, are as 
 lawful as blows and wounds in war." p. xv. 
 
 ***** 
 
 "I should have thought myself honorably matched by an 
 opposition from Dr. Robertson or Lord Hailes. But his lord* 
 ship lias explicitly declined the contest in a letter to my self. The 
 Doctor, also, I hear, is so little disposed to refute " the Vin- 
 dication," that he has declared his resolution not to read it. He 
 is thus practising the arts of generalship, which many a veteran 
 has been obliged to practise before him. WARBURTON. when 
 he found himself attacked by LOWTH, similarly refused to read 
 what he feared he could not answer; and with a child's sim^ 
 plicity of cunning, imagined he should escape the lightning of 
 his adversary's wit. by shutting his eyes to the sight, and 
 evade the thunder of his adversary's argument, by stopping 
 bis.ears to the sound." p. xvii, xviii. 
 
 From Chapter 1, Section 9. 
 
 " Young, beautiful and accomplished, already had she sat 
 upon the throne of France. She there became a centre to a 
 large circle. She appeared in it with a propriety that was ac- 
 knowleged, and with a gracefulness that was applauded by all. 
 She was the peculiar ornament of one of the politest court* in 
 Europe." p. 24. 
 
 ***** 
 
 41 From that scene of admiration in France, she was soon 
 called away by the death of her husband, to her own kingdom 
 in the North. She was now to pass from elegance and splen- 
 dour, to incivility and turbulence !" p. 29. 
 
 From his partiality I suppose to his beautiful Queen, Mr. \V. 
 used to prefer the following stanza to any other in " the Local 
 Attachment :" 
 
 " Thus Scotia's lovely Queen dissolv'd in tears 
 ' Mused, a fond mourner, o'er receding France: 
 ' 'Twas the sweet nursery of her infant yeais, 
 
 The gay, the courtly, region of romance '. 
 
 ' Farewell" she cried " ye landscapes that entrance 
 
 My careless bosom farewell, happy shore ! 
 
 k What tho' to mount a throne be mine, perchance 
 ' My days of bright serenity are o'er ! 
 
 Ah ! land of bliss, farewell ! to meet these eyes no more ! " 
 
 From Chapter 11., Section 4. 
 
 ELIZABETH. 
 
 ' c Women (I speak it with great respect for the sex) are or- 
 dinarily more apt to take refuge in ties than men. Bred up ia 
 one necessary habits of dissimulation; and urged by tha
 
 MEMOIRS OF WHITAKER. 27 
 
 not to have been a little mortified that neither Lord 
 Hailes nor Dr. Robertson could be induced to print a 
 single page against him." 
 
 sense of their weakness, to make upin conning what they want 
 in strength, they are more prone to the little arts of evasion. 
 Yet the well educated and well principled part of the sex, is, 
 to the full, as much superior to these arts, as the same part of 
 our own. And for bold untruths, for lies told with grave deli- 
 beration and vouched with cool confidence; their natural deli- 
 cacy, which keeps them from many improprieties in life, keeps 
 them also, from this. ELIZABETH, however, was profligate 
 enough for such daring flights of falsehood. She had the 
 boldness of the worst of our sex, superadded to the evasiveness 
 of the worst of her own. She therefore loved to try her 
 strength in this masculine exercise of profligacy." p. 9). 
 
 At the conclusion of the first volume 
 
 " ELIZABETH thus appears in a light that must shock her 
 numerous admirers. The low adulations of her own age, and the 
 consenting flattery of succeeding times, have united to throw 
 a blaze of glory around the head of this political saint ; to 
 which she hath as little claim as many of the religious saints in 
 the calendar of Rome to theirs. I admire her abilities. But I 
 despise her principles. I admire her sagacity of understanding, 
 her comprehensiveness of policy, and her vigour of resolution. 
 But I detest her habits of swearing, her habits of hypocrisy, her 
 rancorous jealousy, and her murderous malignity." 
 ***** 
 
 44 The interests of VIRTUE should be the object of every 
 writer. And one single grain of virtue is worth more in the 
 estimate of reason and of God, than all the mass of intellect, 
 that is diffused through the universe." pp. 570, 571. 
 
 From Vol. III., p. 801. 
 
 " It is painful to a generous mind, to see such arts sustained 
 by such credulity, and both triumphing so long over the fame 
 of Mary. But " this world was made for Caesar." The Eli- 
 zabeths and the Murrays, the children of artifice and violence, 
 will generally be the heroes and heroines of the mass of man- 
 kind. But a period may come, such as has now come, when 
 facts will be weighed against assertions, when characters will 
 be ascertained by the standard of history, and when the villain 
 will be exposed and the worthy be vindicated. Yet, should it 
 not come, we may wail in holy hope for that hour of universal 
 judgement, which the sufferings of Mary have repeatedly pres- 
 sed upon my mind. Then artifice can no longer fabricate ca- 
 lumnies, and credulity can no longer continue them. Then the 
 Marys, the Murrays, and the Elizabeths will pass once more in 
 review before us! The examination will be made by HIM, 
 who cannot be baffled in his sagacity! the sentence will b 
 p renounced by HIM who cannot be mistaken in his judgment ! "
 
 28 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES 
 
 And " he went" (says Dr. Aikin) " beyond any 
 former writers, in defending the unfortunate Queen, 
 and in criminating her enemies Elizabeth, Cecil, Mor- 
 ton, and Murray." 
 
 Napier is illiberal; Aikin is affectedly candid. To 
 make an abstract of the main argument in tin's place, 
 is out of the question. But that the eight tellers which 
 had been for two centuries the foundation of calumny 
 against Mary, are satisfactorily proved to be forgeries, 
 all who read these volumes with attention must I think 
 agree. In the notes I subjoin specimens of much fine 
 writing. And our friend's religiousness recurs, where- 
 ever we turn, refreshing to our spirits, and animating 
 to our hearts.* 
 
 " The Course of Hannibal over the Alps'" 1 has been 
 read almost with rapture, by many who assented not to 
 the positions which Whitaker was labouring to main- 
 tain. f 
 
 * Extract from Glassford Bell's Life of Mary, 2 volf., Con- 
 stable's edition, 1828. 
 
 " The praise of ardor not of judgement belongs to Whitaker." 
 Preface. " In his indignation at the virulence of others, ho 
 often becomes more virulent himself." 
 
 " Whitaker describesthe Houseof theKirk-of-Fieldas larger 
 than it really was ; and misled by the appearance of a gunport 
 which still remains in one part of the old wall, and which Arnot 
 supposed had been the postern-door in the gavel of the house, 
 he fixes its situation at too great a distance from the College 
 and too near the Infirmary." Vol. II. p. 31. 
 
 At pp. 90 and 91 we are referred to W r hitaker vol. III. pp. 
 112, 120, 127, 128. Here Whitaker is applauded. 
 
 In many other passages, Whitaker is quoted and highly ap- 
 proved. 
 
 + The opinions on this subject seem now to be narrowed to 
 two : that here maintained with so much learning, ingenious 
 concatenations of circumstances the most rcmota from each 
 other in place and time, and fervent eloquence, by Whita- 
 ker: and that espoused and defended by General Robert 
 Melvill, an antiquary, and a critic, as well as an accom- 
 plished and very distinguished military officer, who in 1775 
 went on a tour through the Alps in order to investigate the 
 course of Hannibal on the spot. Allowing the authority of 
 Livy (whose inaccuracy is caadidly admiltedinthe work before 
 us in many instances), weare almost compelled, by the reason- 
 ing of Whitaker, to adopt the opinion, that the route of
 
 MEMOIRS OF WHITAKBR. 29 
 
 " The Ancient Cathedral of Cornwall" is in my opi- 
 nion one of his happiest productions as an Antiquary.* 
 
 Hannibal lay by Lauriol inDauphiny, Lyons, Genera, Mar- 
 tigny.and the Great St. Bernard. But if we prefer the authority 
 of Polybius where that author differs from Livy, we shall be 
 inclined to the opinion of General Melvill, who brings him by 
 Charaberri, along the vale of the Isere, and the Little St. Ber- 
 nard. The General and Whitaker meet together in the vale of 
 Aosta.The route taken by the General has been found practica- 
 ble again and again ; and it certainly led more directly to its ob- 
 ject. It was proper that Hannibal should go up the Rhone, in 
 order to avoid his enemies, but not farther than was necessary 
 for that purpose. The General's route, strongly supported on 
 the whole by the dates and distances, and some other circum- 
 stances mentioned in the Greek historian, is also that which 
 would appear the most eligible to a commander. But, on 
 the other hand, when we attend to the arguments of our friend 
 and particularly what he says, Vol. I. p. 272, on the subject 
 of the White Rock, and to the retrograde motions in Hanni- 
 bal's army, in consequence of the treachery of the Salassi, our 
 opinion will be not a little shaken. It is to be observed, at the 
 same time, that if strong facts are sometimes urged by Whita- 
 ker with much energy and effect, he helps out weaker argu- 
 ments, in other instances, by a peculiar talent for happy con- 
 jecture. On the who!-, Whitaker is, in some respects, to 
 General Melvill, what Livy was to Polybius. 
 
 " Whitaker' s Course of Hannibal. Sfc. On this ground he 
 was encountered by the late Lord Wodehouselee, who pub- 
 lished a critical examination, &c. &c. London, 1795, Bvo." 
 Napier. 
 
 * " The history of man, so voluminous and bulky at present, 
 is very slight anil slender in all the early periods of it. Either 
 the writing of history was an employ unpractised by the first 
 a^i's ; or time and war have united since, to sweep away the 
 writings. Thus man even knew not his own origin, before 
 the Hebrew scriptures disclosed the secret to him. The 
 world, therefore, might well be ignorant, before, of the origin 
 of the nations within it. The history of the world and of man, 
 indeed, stood then like a colossal statue of antiquity, that had 
 accidentally lost its head. Even since the divine history has 
 Riven a beginning to the human annals, and so has replaced the 
 head upon the statue; much darkness still spreads over the 
 particular oris'in of nations. The head of this statue, like the 
 head of the Nile's at Rome, is still wrapped up in a veil. Nor 
 <lo we know, with any degree of accuracy, the primary period of 
 the history of any one nation in Europe. This is apparently 
 the case in our domestic annals ; and in that very period of 
 Jhoni too, which is not prior to the Romans. We know no- 
 thing almost of the early transactions of the WELSH or of the 
 c2
 
 30 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES. 
 
 But in the Supplement to my Outline of " The 
 Antiquities of Cornwall,' 1 there is more of philosophy 
 
 CORNISH, before the Saxons came to invade them, and so united 
 their history with their own. Thas two large communities 
 of Britons, which had been composed eaeh of united tribes of 
 Britain, and enlightened all by the rays of the literature of 
 Rome, even more enlightened still by the bright beams of the 
 Gospel, sunk back into the darkness nearly of their original 
 history; and owe the main knowledge of their own annals- 
 immediately after the Roman departure, to those rude bar- 
 barians who had come from the shores of the Baltic, and whom 
 they had half raised into knowledge, while these had wholly 
 depressed them into ignorance. So much heavier is the scale 
 of ignorance in man, than that of knowledge! This we set? 
 strikingly exemplified in the early history ot CORNWALL ; with 
 which in general we can begin only where the annals of its 
 Saxon invaders begin ; and for which, as the sun of history 
 was then set among the Cornish themselves, we can derive an 
 illumination only from the very moon that was then shining 
 with the rays of the sun, faint, indeed, in the reflection, yet 
 serving to dispel the darkness. 
 
 Having repeatedly mentioned the late Lord Eliot with 
 honour in the text, I must here do justice to him and to my- 
 self in a note. He was my original instigator for writing the 
 present work. In a visit to him, solicited by myself, I threw 
 0ut some remarks as I viewed the church concerning the 
 age of it ; which my Lord politely questioned, and I de- 
 liberately maintained. This led me to put my sentiments 
 upon paper, and HI y Lord exulted probably in his finesse of 
 drawing me out. But when the ardour of my mind, kindling 
 like a chariot-wheel with its own movements, pushed me on 
 to prosecute my survey, and my essay hadswelled into a book ; 
 my Lord began to foresee the consequence to himself. He ap- 
 prehended a design upon his finance*. Nor would he spare 
 money for literature, for literature even concerning his favou- 
 rite church. He therefore refrained from all intimations that 
 would cost him any thing, while the work was under my hands.. 
 Even when I had finished it. he expressed no wish for perus- 
 ing it in manuscript ; he put forth no finger to push it into pub- 
 lication. He abandoned it to its fate, without one solici- 
 tude felt for it, I believe ; without one inquiry made about it, 
 I know. The solicitude was suppressed, and the inquiry was 
 precluded in a cautious delicacy for his purse. He wished to 
 he a patron without any expense of patronage. Nor would this 
 work, so abandoned by him, have ever been published by me, 
 if my Lord had not died, if my indignation at such treatment 
 had not been buried in his grave, and if at the same time 1 had 
 not accidentally become rich enough to risk the expense myself. 
 About a quarter of H mile to the north-east of Grade church, 
 is a noted well, from which is fetched all the water used in bap-
 
 MEMOIRS OF WHITAKER. SI 
 
 mingled with antiquarianism than we meet with, in all 
 his other works** 
 
 tism at the church. It has also a saint and a hermit belonging 
 to it, being- denominated St. Grade's well; this " Sancta. 
 " Grada, alias Grade," settling at it in some later period. 
 when the parishes of Ruan Major and Minor had been both laid 
 out in one, so superseding the name of Rumon and even 
 occasioning a new parish to be formed out of fragments of both . 
 with Landewednack as achapelry afterwards to it, now equally 
 a parish-church itself. Bat it proves its own relationship to St. 
 Ramon, by lying very near to Saint Ruan village, close on the- 
 left of the road, at the head of a little hill, and fronting the Til- 
 lage. It is walled up at the back and sides with dense black 
 iron-stones ; but the front, and particularly the arched entrance, 
 is composed of coarse granite. The water is very fine and pel- 
 lucid, exactly answering therefore to Ausonius's description of 
 the fountain at Nismes. 
 
 Vitred non lace Nemausus 
 
 Purior. 
 
 The water too, which is always up to the brim of the basin, is 
 remarkably cold in summer; and thus answers exactly again 
 to Martial's description of his fountain in Spain ; 
 Avidam rigens Dercenna placabit sitim, 
 
 Et Nemea qnse vincit niies. 
 
 So faithfully represented do we discern the Nemausus and the 
 Neraea of the continent, in the Nemea of our own Cornwall ! 
 And so judiciously had our St. Rumon selected the waters of 
 thi fountain for his own beverage ! His hermitage, however, 
 was not immediately upon the brink of it, but in what is now 
 the village, pleasantly situated upon a little hill, like the well, 
 and distant about a stone's throw, or rather more, from it. The 
 village consists only of about half a dozen houses, all mean, 
 except one on the right hand, just as yon ascend the hill. Thi* 
 has a ruinous fence before it, denominated the court-wall, and 
 built with iron stones enormously large. The house itself 
 was nearly all in ruins about forty years ago, was therefore 
 rebuilt, but had originally windows and a doorway, all arched 
 like the well. Some of the moorstones that composed the 
 doorway and windows, are still upon the ground; while the 
 other stones are like those of the court-wall, iron-stonss enor- 
 mously large. Here then we have the very hermitage of St. 
 Rumon ; afterwards converted into a chapel, like St. Mawes ; 
 but latterly, though built of materials so strong and so massy, 
 sinking under the weight of its own antiquity, and crumbling 
 into ruins." 
 
 For the above description, I am responsible. Mr_\Vhita- 
 kcr desired me to visit the spot for him ; and I believe my re- 
 port is accurate. 
 
 * "That the whole mass of the Sylley Isles, of the shores of 
 Cornwall, and (as we must add) of the opposite shores of
 
 32 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES. 
 
 It is very possible that the geologist may affect to 
 hold our friend's philosophy in contempt. But, as Mr. 
 Hawkins justly intimates, (in one of those elegant papers 
 which do honour to our Geological Society, ) it is only 
 the geologist will ridicule such conjectures as Whita- 
 ker's : men of more liberal education will at least give 
 them a patient hearing. I am acquainted with seve- 
 ral philosophers (not of Cornwall in particular) who, 
 ignorant of the learned languages, and possessing no 
 accurate knowlegeeven of their own vernacular tongue, 
 commit strange blunders in pronouncing the very terms 
 in chemistry with which they boast a perfect familiarity. 
 Yet I have heard them speak slightingly of Whitaker. 
 Perhaps his Christian humility provoked their choler : 
 religiousness like his could expect no quarter from the 
 pride of scepticism. 
 
 Even here his antiquarian stores were far from being 
 exhausted. 
 
 Nornmndy, should all be depressed by any one shock of an 
 earthquake below the level of the sea adjoining, even sixteen 
 or more feet perpendicular below this level ; is a supposition; 
 so ponderous, massy, and gigantic, as to stagger the stoutest 
 faith. The earthquake, that could produce such a mighty con- 
 vulsion, must have shaken all Britain to its centre, and been 
 recorded indelibly in the published terrours of the whole na- 
 tion. Nor is the cause, however portentous and incredible in 
 itself, at all adequate to the effect produced. This effect is not 
 merely a sudden inundation made some centuries ago, but the 
 gradual encroachments of the sea in consequence of that. For 
 these we must account, as well as for that. A subsidence, 
 therefore, that is competent to the generation of both, must be 
 actually at work in the present moments, actually depressing 
 the ground at this very moment, actually sinking it under our 
 very feet now. This argument reduces the supposition to the 
 last extreme of absurdity ; and compels us to seek out another 
 cause, even the natural, the obvious, and indeed the only re- 
 maining cause, in the violent bearing at one time, and in the 
 silent pressing ever since, of the ocean upon our shores. Oc- 
 casioned, perhaps, by some slight inclination of the globe, 
 that thiew its aqueous parts in a sudden projection to the east, 
 and that keeps them tending to the east still ; the Atlantic hai 
 been for ages withdrawing from the shores of America, I be- 
 lieve, and forages encroaching certainly upon the shores of 
 Europe. We know when it began, from its ravages then mads 
 upon the coast of Cornwall particularly ; and we feel it ope- 
 rating in its corrosiveness upon the coast of Cornwall, to the
 
 MEMOIRS OF WHITAKER. 3$ 
 
 e The Life of St. Neot^* the History of Oxford, 
 and the History of London were all at once projected, 
 
 present period. This hypothesis satisfactorily accounts both 
 for the present and for the past, for the facts that occur in his- 
 tory, and for the appearances that salute our eyes." 
 
 *" ST. NEO-T." It is thus Mr. W. commences his history of 
 the princely saint. 
 
 " A Saint, however related, and however renowned, will 
 hardly be expected to furnish materials in his life, either attrac- 
 tive of themselves, or important in their consequences ; yet the" 
 present, I think, with proper management, will. It is my busi- 
 ness, therefore, to use this management, to note the connection 
 of his opinions with our national manners, and to mark the 
 bearings of his actions upon our national annals. I hope thus 
 to render even the biography of a Saint, concerning whom little 
 is told, and less understood, even concerning one who is new,, 
 for the first time, referred to history by the hands of criticism, 
 useful enough to challenge the curiosity of many in the begin- 
 ning, and interesting enough to engage the attention of more to 
 the end." 
 
 " But before we enter upon the life of a Saint, so replete with 
 miracles ascribed to him, we must stop a moment to ascertain 
 the origin of the miracles so ascribed, and to explain the qua- 
 lity of the facts so magnified into miracles. Such an operation 
 is requisite, antecedently to any prosecution of his biography ; 
 in order to divest the history of all that appearance of incredi- 
 bility which at present surrounds it, and to bring it down from 
 the high a;ther of romance to the sober level, the respirable at- 
 mosphere of reality. For this purpose we must examine the 
 original biographers of St. Neot, find the author by whom the 
 miracles were first attributed to him, and so mark the matter as 
 well as the manner, in or on which they were attributed. We 
 shall thus come to see clearly how common incidents in the 
 Saint's life were worked up into marvellous contingencies, how 
 the very mode of their relation originally shewed them to have 
 been merely common incidents only, and how the very relater 
 of them at first appears to have been the very reprobater of 
 them afterwards." P 1, 2. 
 
 I must here be excused in drawing off attention from the mat- 
 ter to the manner ; whilst I remark, that this short extract ex- 
 hibits the author in all his peculiarities of style ; discriminated 
 as it always is by vigour and perspicuity ; at one time, by ele- 
 gance and force ; at another, by negligence. To proceed with 
 the history. 
 
 " The very memorials that imposed upon Ramsay at first were 
 not the fabrication of wilful falsehood ; rioting in a wantonness 
 of fiction, and imposing studied forgeries upon the faith of the 
 world. This is too dreadful an extreme of guilt for the gene- 
 rality of mankind ; and especially for the sequestered few who
 
 34 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES* 
 
 and no sooner projected than executed in imagination, 
 and more than half executed in reality. 
 
 love to dwell upon the actions of a saint, to revere the graces 
 of heaven really resplendent always in his conduct, and to con- 
 template the powers of heaven supposedly displayed in his words 
 at times. Such men are too good to be deceivers, but are very 
 apt to be deceived ; to mistake the meaning of names or the qua- 
 lity of circumstances ; to consider every common incident in a 
 saint's biography as a miraculous one ; to suppose the Deity 
 equally present with the saint in visible powers, as he certainly 
 is in invisible graces ; and to fancy those communicated, in order 
 to give a kind of visibility to these." P. 16. 
 
 The author's integrity, simplicity, and piety, are here most 
 apparent. He now examines the marvellous acts of St. Neot 
 one by one; and is successful, I think, in proving, that at the 
 bottom of each fiction lies the truth. The sixth miracle is well 
 illustrated by the manner of carrying corn in Cornwall. 
 
 " The tenants were once driving the lord's \7ains loaded 
 with corn in their usual manner, to the usual places. They 
 had scarce begun to move when, wonderful to be seen, a 
 vehement wind came rushing among them. So great was its 
 vehemence, indeed, that it forced wains, and oxen, and men 
 suddenly to turn and go back. All go back together to the 
 field from which the corn had been taken, as with the force of 
 a dart from a hand." 
 
 *' The incident is certainly very probable in itself. A sud- 
 den wind arose as the wains were beginning to move, and in a 
 direction opposite to their movement. We know from ourown 
 experience in Cornwall at present, where we still carry our 
 corn on wains, and still draw it with oxen, piled artificially in 
 rows upon rows of sheaves, raised to a considerable height, 
 and bound down by a rope in several directions ; how readily 
 such a tall structure catches the force of those rushing winds 
 that frequently annoy us from the south-west. This was such 
 a wind assuredly. The rising stories of sheaves could not 
 stand the violence of it; the whole mass tottered from side to 
 side, and all will instantly be thrown to the ground. The at- 
 tendants feel the distress, run to support the load at the sides 
 with their protended pikes, and goad on the oxen. But their 
 labours are all vain ; the oxen are not able to advance against 
 such a torrent of air so obstructed ; and the sheaves begin to 
 fly. In this extremity, no resource is left but to turn, to move 
 before the wind, to seek the field in which they took up the 
 load and there to lay it down again. Such an incident as this 
 may have happened to many, and is likely to happen to all; 
 our Cornish mode of forming our sheaves into round mows 
 within the field, and there leaving them saved (as we naturally 
 presume to speak) till the weather permits us to carry them 
 into our rick-yard, being calculated equally to defend them 
 against the wind as to protect them from the wet."
 
 MEMOIRS OF WHITAKER. 35 
 
 To recur to our Author as a Divine of the Church of 
 England. We have already, by copious extracts from 
 
 Let us next view St. Neotin his retirement, 
 " ID an eager desire (notes Leland) for the life of a hermit, 
 lie went into Cornwall. Yet in this eagerness he acted pru- 
 dently, by not burying himself alone amid the wilds of St. 
 Gueryr ; but taking a companion with him, and settling near 
 to a church with its priest. From this conduct, solitude 
 smoothed her rugged looks for him ; a hermitage lost its dreari- 
 ness of aspect ; and by the irradiations of social religion, 
 " There did a sable cloud 
 Turn forth her silver lining on the night, 
 And cast a gleam over these tufted groves." 
 But the grand magnet to the lovers of solitude was always a 
 fine fountain of water: and at St. Neot's is a well of high 
 celebrity, about a quarter of a mile from the church. 
 
 " At this -well (which is to the west of the church, lying in 
 what is called a meadow under a wood at present) St. Neot 
 resided as a hermit with Rarius, and communicated that re- 
 puted holiness which still adheres in part to its waters. That 
 there was a good arch of stone over it, with a large oak spring- 
 ing from the arch, and with doors to the entrance, is well re- 
 membered now. " This beautiful spring," says a late author, 
 (who has happily caught some descriptive touches concerning 
 it) " with a rill issuing from it, that constantly supplies the 
 neighbouring village with water, is yet to be seen at the foot 
 of a steep wood. About thirty (now forty) years ago, a very 
 large and spreading oak, which grew almost horizontally from 
 the bank above, and overshadowed the well'Mn a fan like form, 
 " was cut down by the tenant of the estate for repairs," when 
 it had been spared for centuries, probably from a principle of 
 religion. Weakly children used also, withia memory, to be 
 brought from a distance, even from the distance of Exeter 
 itself, to be bathed in the waters on the three first (we should 
 have written, first three} mornings in Way. Even now the 
 parish clerk resorts to it in all weathers, as his predecessors in 
 office have immemorially resorted, to fetch from it the water 
 for the baptismal font in the church. The water itself is very 
 tine to the eye, and very pleasing to the taste. Here, adds 
 Ramsay, St. Neot "was daily wont to repeat the whole 
 psalter throughout ;" thus going through a length of private 
 piaycr, to which our faint and languid spirits in devotion could 
 never extend. Rut our spirits in devotion are not to be com- 
 pared with a hermit's. When the soul is -constantly engaged 
 in contemplation of that awful important point of time on which 
 it stands ; is tremblingly alive to its destiny in heaven or in 
 hell, for the whole round of eternity ; THEN stES ONLY THE 
 
 t.UIIIT TRANSPARENCY OF LIFE, RISING UP BEFORE BOTH ; and 
 
 i* continually breathing forth its supplications to God, its
 
 86 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES. 
 
 his works, laid open to our readers his antiquarian sa- 
 gacity and learning. 
 
 We now do homage to him as a Divine. 
 
 hopes or its fears concerning both under this habitual dis- 
 cipline of devoutness, what must be the intenseness, the fervid- 
 ness, and the ardency of prayer? Infinitely superior must 
 they be to those sensations of devoutness, which the man of 
 business, or the man of studiousness, even if very devout, can 
 ever feel in his bosom. The latter can be no more to the for- 
 mer, than THE FUGITIVE CORUSCATIONS of AN AUTUMNAL NIGHT, 
 TO THE STEADY RADIATIONS OK A SUMMER'S SUN. St. NeOt, 
 
 therefore, might well indulge himself in such a length of 
 prayer, as to go through the whole psalter every day ; by the 
 frequent recurrence of his prayers in the day, and by the con* 
 tinuanceof them for a longtime at every recurrence." 
 
 I have given in capitals two fine illustrations which occur 
 in the above beautiful passage. In the hands of such an au- 
 thor, no subject, however dry in itself, can be either uninter- 
 esting or unedifying. Of Wolslan, who was made precentor 
 of Winchester, on account of his fine voice and skill in sing- 
 ing, the following is a curious memoir. 
 
 " Wolstan, a monk of Winchester cathedral, in the tenth 
 century, (says Leland) was not without a -voice finely musical, 
 or without any very great skill in singing ; on both accounts 
 he became much esteemed by his fellow collegians, and was 
 thus at last made even prsecentor, a kind of magistrate in hiy ii 
 honour among the monks formerly, 1 ' in high honour amony 
 ourselves still, and the leader purely of the chaunts in our ca- 
 thedral services. 
 
 ' But in the eleventh century, when Edmund Ironside, in the 
 year 1016, engaged Canute and his Danes within the county of 
 Essex, we behold an amazing picture of devoutness in the 
 midst of acamp, in the open field, and in the heat of a battle; 
 Ednocl, bishop of Lincoln, "chanting the communion service 
 there," even while the battle was at its very height, being 
 overtaken by the close of it before he had concluded; and, 
 while he was praying with lifted hands, having one of them 
 cut off by the victorious Danes. So early do we find (what 
 we do not find in oar cathedrals at present) the prayers of the 
 Eucharist chaunted! Yet still earlier do we perceive the 
 chaunted prayer in private. In those illustrious moments of 
 death, when the celebrated Bede shone more than ever he had 
 shone before, and was placed by the altar at which he had 
 used to pray, there "he chaunted," even with his expiring 
 breath, "glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the 
 Holy Spirit ;" but as soon as he had invoked the Holy Spirit, 
 "he breathed his own spirit out of his body ;" and thus, as 
 4he narrator concludes, he was singing "glory be to the Fa-
 
 MEMOIRS OF WHITAKER. 37 
 
 And first, of his parochial discourses he published 
 
 ther," with some other spiritual sentences, as long as his soul 
 was in his body." P. 118. 
 
 After examining the claims of St. Neot's, in Huntingdon- 
 shire, to the remains of this Saint, and giving some account of 
 their supposed removal to that place, Mr. W. triumphs in the 
 refutation of that hypothesis ; and then tells us, what remains 
 actually existed there. 
 
 " What then were the remains of St. Neot that Huntingdon- 
 shire really had? At this very epocha it pretended to exhibit 
 only two articles, but two that were totally extrinsic to him, 
 and had merely been once possessed by him. Leland himself 
 was curious enough to note what they were. They were " the 
 interior tunic of St. Neot, made of cloth of hair in the Irish 
 fashion ;" and "the comb of St. Neot, made of a small bone 
 two fingers in breadth, but having the teeth offish inserted into 
 it, so as to appear like the jaw of that river-fish the pike." 
 
 " Huntingdonshire tbu shewed to Leland all that it had of 
 St. Neot. This all was merely the comb and the interior tunic 
 of the Saint, Nor did the monks there pretend to have any 
 thing else of his. All proves them to have possessed none of 
 his bones, yet to have owned some remains of his, which in 
 the undistingui&hing talk of the times among others, in the 
 studied obscurity of language among themselves, and in the 
 bold eruptions of partial fondness into positive falsehood at 
 times, were vainly estimated to be bodily relics." 
 
 It was worth while to insert the above, for the reflections 
 that follow. 
 
 " Nor let my reader smile at this long and successful labour 
 to appropriate the bones or the dust of an ancient saint to Corn- 
 wall. The fondness for sainted relics is now passed its 
 meridian indeed ; and the human mind exercises itself at present 
 upon what it supposes to be the grandest objects of attention. 
 Yet, even with these objects before it, the genius of learning 
 is not more usefully or more vigorously employed than it was 
 before. Antiquarianism particularly, one of the favourite 
 studies of the day, has equally its relics, and its fondness for 
 them. The impassioned part of all studies must have them : 
 only as religion has less hold upon the mind or the affections, 
 that sober rational enthusiasm, which is properly fond of relics, 
 is transferred from theology to literature ; and a coin, an altar, 
 or a tesselated pavement, takes place of the comb, the tunic, or 
 the bones of a saint. The same taste prevails, but the objects 
 are changed. Yet the antiquary smiles at the objects of the 
 devotee, while the devotee has greater reason to smile at the 
 antiquary's. The sepulchre of such a saint as Neotus, is surely 
 more worthy of our affectionate attention, than the graTe-tono 
 
 a
 
 38 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES. 
 
 *' Sermons'' in 1783 : and doubtless he had preached them 
 to his parishioners, with a voice and a manner calcu- 
 
 of a Roman soldier, or the tomb of a Roman officer, of either 
 of whom we know no more than that he lived, and that he died, 
 or else we know that he was brave, successful, and destructive. 
 And as the truth of history required me to ascertain the per- 
 manent place of St. Neot's interment, I felt enough of the 
 fondness of antiquarianism for such a king, and of the reverence 
 of religion for such a saint, to draw aside the curtain that has 
 hunj? so long before his tomb, and to shew it in all its dimen- 
 sions to the eye of my readers. His dust has been always 
 preserved at ourSt. Neot's ; and the casket of stonecontinued to 
 our own days the faithful repository of it, while those remains 
 of his, which were conveyed away into Huntingdonshire, 
 have long since been destroyed by neglect or by wilfulness. 
 The shrine containing them is equally gone, and nothing re- 
 mains but a few letters upon a broken pedestal." P. 289. 
 
 Among the incidental notices, which will stamp a value on 
 this book, in the opinion of many who have no regard for the 
 history of St. Neot, or any other saint, Mr. W.'s account of 
 some wild animals, no longer existing in these islands, is not 
 the least interesting. 
 
 "Little has been done," says Mr. W., " to ascertain the 
 continuance of our wild beasts among us. Thus at what time 
 even that well-known native of our woods once, the wild- 
 boar, became extirpated from them, no one has endeavoured 
 to ascertain. 
 
 " It roamed in our woods very late, even so late, could one 
 think it 1 as the sixteenth century. In the same woods roamed 
 that much more astonishing animal, the moose-deer, or elk. Of 
 this fact I can produce an evidence that is very obvious, but 
 lias never been noticed ; that is incontestable in its nature, 
 and that actually demonstrates the animal to have been an in- 
 habitant of our own isle, to have been currently denominated 
 an elk among us, to have even continued under that denomina- 
 tion so late as the middle of the sixteenth century. To our 
 astonishment we find the breed mentioned by one of our first 
 game laws, as the 33 Henry 8. c. 6. section 33. kindly extends 
 its protecting arm to the last remains of the wild-boars and the 
 wild-elks of our country. It allows the inhabitants of certain 
 places to use their guns, " so that it be at no manner of deer, 
 heron, shovelard, pheasant, partridge, WILD-SWINE, or 
 "WILD ELK, or any of them." This extraordinary intimation 
 from so respectable an authority, I am happy to call out into 
 public notice. It forms a very important addition to the his- 
 tory of our original beasts. It completes, particularly, the 
 accounts which have been formerly given by myself of our 
 boars and moose-deers, the latter of which are either contend-
 
 MEMOIRS OF WHITAKER. 39 
 
 bated to penetrate the conscience, and to strike convic- 
 tion into the saul ; to awaken the tears of penitence, ana 
 
 ing still with incredulity for their very existence, or have this 
 existence thrown back into the morning twilight of antiquity," 
 beyond the reach of all "written tradition." They are now 
 shewn to have existed among us, and to have been universally 
 known to exist, even within a couple of centuries from our 
 own times." P. 29*. 
 
 On reconsidering this extrac', I ar rather disposed to think, 
 that the recital of the names of the Wild Swine and the Wild 
 Elk, among other animals, in an Act of Parliament of Henry 
 VIII. (merely in aclause of exception) does not furnish quite 
 incontestible proof of their existence in the reign of Henry. 
 I could quote similar recitals, to which little or no meaning 
 can be affixed. We should be cautious in turning the ordinary 
 phraseology or forms of law, into historical recognitions. The 
 author thus concludes the volume. 
 
 " I have thus laid open the whole history of St. Neot, have 
 shown who he was, have explained why and whence he came 
 into Cornwall, and ascertained what befel him or his after- 
 ward. By all this 1 have eadeavoured to do j ustice to a Saxon 
 Saint, whose settlement in our country seems so strange at the 
 first view, whose reputation is so considerable among us even 
 at present, but whose real history was little understood, even 
 by ourselves or our Saxon neighbours. And I have equally 
 endeavoured as I proceeded, to catch every call that judgment 
 would allow, for occasional migrations from a local subject, 
 to turn aside into the open ground of general history, and to 
 settle doubts of moment, or to correct errors of importance, in 
 the annals of the nation at large." P. 31*. 
 
 Of the painted windows in the church of St. Neot, Mr. \V. 
 lias given us a very entertaining account in his "Arianism," 
 at pp. 329 -334. These windows have been recently re- 
 stored to more than ancient splendour through the munificence 
 of my friend, the Rev. R. G. Grylls: his artist, the celebrated 
 IIed?land, whose sixteen beautifully coloured plates (just 
 published) how many will be gratified in contemplating, not 
 able to get access to the windows themselves ! 
 
 Tom Warton's fine picturesque poetry here recurs to me- 
 mory. And I am sure the pout would himself allow (relapsing 
 into his antiquarian prejudices so unwillingly renounced) that, 
 however Gothic imagery maybe superseded by "strokes of 
 art with truth combined," in ihe painted window at New Col- 
 lege, it is restored in all its brilliancy at St. Neot's. Nor would 
 he again exclaim, without much hesitation : 
 
 " Ye saints, who, clad in crimson's bright array, 
 More pride than humble poverty display ;
 
 40 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES. 
 
 to derate the hopes of the Christian to the abodes of 
 immortality.* 
 
 Ye angels that from clouds of gold recline, 
 But boast no semblance to a race divine ; 
 Ye tragic tales of legendary lore, 
 That draw devotion's ready tear no more ; 
 Ye martyrdoms of unenlightened days ; 
 Ye miracles that now no wonder raise, 
 Shapes that with one broad glare the gazer strike, 
 Kings, bishops, nuns, apostles, all alike ; 
 Ye colours that the unwary sight amaze, 
 And only dazzle in the noontide blaze ; 
 No more the sacred windows round disgrace, 
 But yield to Grecian groupes the shining space." 
 * Sermons dedicated to Bishop Ross. 
 
 "The genius of our nation," says W. in his admirable De- 
 dication, "has been repeatedly remarked to have a stronger 
 tincture of phlegm in it, than that of our immediate neigh- 
 bours to the south. This ruling bias of our temper we may 
 trace, if we please, with an author of more celebrity than merit, 
 to the nature of our climate ; and so buildup an hypothesis 
 that is directly contradicted by facts. We may therefore refer 
 it, with a more philosophical conjecture, to the well-known 
 incidents of our history ; to that large transfusion of German 
 blood into our veins, which was made at the settlements of the 
 Saxons and Danes among us. But these or any other schemes 
 of accounting mechanically for the discriminating temperament 
 of kingdoms, are all, I am convinced, chimerical and vain, fa- 
 bricated merely by the fanciful part of our understanding, and 
 rejected by the severer the moment it examines them strictly. 
 The different characters of nations result from the same prin- 
 ciple as the different characters of individuals; from those deep 
 and strong lineaments of soul which are impressed upon it at 
 first by the hand of its Almighty Former. He has thrown a 
 shade of thoughtfulness into the original texture of the Romans, 
 the Italians, the Spaniards, the Germans, and the English ; 
 while he has drest up the ancient Athenians, and the present 
 French, with a mixture of livelier colours. And he has done 
 both, no doubt, for those mysterious purposes of his provi- 
 dence, for which he so wonderfully diversifies the personal 
 tempers of men, and which can be comprehended only by the 
 ALL-WISE MIND that suggested them. But, whatever is the 
 cause of our phlegm, the effect is too obvious not to be seen by 
 foreigners, and too powerful not to be felt by ourselves. And 
 it has had a particular influence upon the sermons of the island. 
 " That some, that several of our later sermons do indeed 
 touch the string of the affections at times, it would be unjust 
 to deny. But that they touch it frequently, that they touch it
 
 MEMOIRS OF WHITAKER. 41-. 
 
 That he should have published so little in the line of 
 
 powerfully, that they sink deep into it, so as to make it vibrate 
 strongly to the heart and soul ; it would be more unjust to 
 allow. 
 
 " They are all of them didactic, from the radical coldness of 
 our national spirit. And they are some of them sentimental 
 lately, from the more airy and philosophizing taste of the times. 
 But they are not affectionate. 
 
 " Even in towns, even in the capital, even in the inns of 
 court there, three-fourths of our hearers are necessarily em- 
 ployed upon the lower arts of life, with minds wholly estranged 
 to religious speculation, and with spirits wildly afloat after 
 pleasure and after interest. And are these the beings to whom 
 we should address ourselves in a high-wrought delicacy of 
 sentiment concerning religion, and in deep and laboured dis- 
 quisitions about the heart of man? No, surely! Such rea- 
 sonings may be the ambrosia and the nectar of the gods ; but 
 they arc too unsubstantial food for mortals for fallen, cor- 
 rupted, sinning mortals. 
 
 "We studiously avoid to enter the high regions of elo- 
 quence, and to grasp the bolt, and to dart the lightning of the 
 Gospel there. We keep ourselves in a lower kind of atmos- 
 phere. We love to amuse ourselves and our congregations, 
 with catching the meteors that dance and glitter in it. 
 
 " The eloquence that is adapted to the mixed numbers of a 
 congregation, is of a mixed kind itself. It consists, I ap- 
 prehend, not in elegance of language, not in refinement of 
 thought, and not in both together ; but in observations that lie 
 level to the common intellects of mankind, in addresses that go 
 directly to their feelings, and in a bold, pointed, and 'popular 
 language to convey them. This is the kind of oratory which! 
 in all ages has played its magic slights so successfully upon 
 the heart of man. This is the kind of oratory with which 
 Christianity so effectually arms its preachers." 
 
 And this is the kind of oratory which Whitaker has, in these 
 Sermons, successfully adopted. Take a few specimens. 
 
 " The body we are obliged to put under the earth, to save 
 ourselves from being shocked at the sight of that remainder of 
 the sentence of sin, which is executed upon us after death. Then 
 all that once was healthy, fair, and sparkling, is no more. The 
 bloom of beauty on the cheek, the liveliness of meaning in the 
 eye, and the flush of health in the whole countenance, are all 
 lost and sunk in one common mass of corruption. The brow, 
 on which the concerns of empire sat, the arm, which could 
 direct the storm of battle, or the lips, that could do what is 
 much more important than either, that could touch effectually 
 the hearts of a congregation with the feeling eloquence of the 
 Gospel, could shake them with its terrours, and could sootka
 
 42 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES. 
 
 his profession is perhaps to be lamented. 
 
 them with its comforts ; all lie reduced to the same level with 
 the common children of the earth ; all lie enduring the same 
 punishment of the Fall, and all lie expecting the same deliver- 
 ance from it." 
 
 With respect to the recognition of onr friends : " As the 
 same body is to be raised from the grave that is laid there, it 
 must appear the same to the eye of all beholders. That, 
 which makes it appear the same through life, must equally 
 make it appear so in the Resurrection. The same fixed and 
 unalterable parts remain. And they must continue to give it 
 the same air, the same turn of countenance and look, as it had 
 before. The whole man, therefore, must be as easily dis- 
 tinguishable by every eye that knew him, as ever he was in life. 
 
 When " the rocks were rent and the graves were opened" 
 at our Saviour's crucifixion, and when " many bodies of Saints 
 "which slept arose, and came out of their graves, after his 
 " Resurrection ;" " they went," says St. Matthew, " into the 
 " Holy City, and APPEARED unto many." 
 
 "Their faces were yet well-known to many of the inhabitants 
 of Jerusalem. And, when they rose from their graves at a 
 little distance from the city, they took their well-known way 
 into it, they repaired immediately to their relations and friends 
 there, and they were fully known and acknowledged by them. 
 Had they not been known to have died and been buried, had 
 they not been evidently and plainly the very persons that were 
 remembered to have died and been buried ; they would not 
 have been any proof of a miraculous resurrection to the Jews, 
 they would not have appeared as men risen from the grave 
 at all. 
 
 " And to place the point (if possible) in a still stronger light 
 for you, let us observe the Person of our Saviour himself after 
 his resurrection. He was just the same man in aspect, in air, 
 in manner, that he was before. His hands and his feet were 
 even still marked with the print of the nails, And his side 
 even still shewed the scar of the wound, which had been made 
 in it by the spear. His countenance also was exactly the same, 
 and as readily known by his disciples as ever it was. And he 
 had even the same peculiarities of voice and action, which had 
 distinguished him before his Death. 
 
 " But there is also another fact, which is perhaps still more 
 particular. On the same day of the Resurrection, and towards 
 the evening, two of our Saviour's disciples went from Jerusa- 
 lem to a neighbouring village, when our Saviour joined them 
 on the road, and began to discourse with them. " But," says 
 the Scripture, "their eyes were holden, that they should not 
 "know him." They would have known him by his look and 
 Toice, ye see, if a miracle had not been exerted to prevent it.
 
 MEMOIRS OF WHITAKER. 43 
 
 His 4t Origin of Arianism," however, is a large 
 
 And, when they had reached the Tillage, they pressed their 
 unknown Saviour to go in and spend the evening with tlifm. 
 He went in accordingly. And, on sitting down to supper, He 
 said Grace before meat so exactly in his old manner, the ex- 
 traordinary force upon their senses being now withdrawn, as 
 made them immediately recollect and know him. " It came to 
 pass," says St. Luke, "as he sat at meat with them, he took 
 bread, and blessed it, and brake, and gave to them ; and their 
 " eyes were opened, and they knew him ; and he was known 
 " unto them in breaking of bread." Our Saviour, therefore, 
 was just the same in his looks, in his tone of voice, and in his 
 peculiarities of action, after his Resurrection, as he was before 
 it. And, consequently, we shall all of us be equally the same. 
 
 " Ye may yet be happy for ever. But perhaps to-morrow ye 
 cannot. Oh, think of this, and resolve to become religious 
 to-day. Those Blessed Spirits, which were once on earth and 
 are now in Paradise, are all earnestly wishing you to resolve 
 upon this, are all earnestly praying that ye may, and could 
 they be allowed, would all come from their seats of joy to 
 exhort you to do so. And let your Preacher's voice supply 
 the want of theirs. Oh, hear them as speaking in me, and 
 calling to you by every solemn and every tender tie, to trifle 
 no longer about religion, but to seize the present moment, and 
 to be as happy as they are. They are some of them, no doubt, 
 your particular friends, they are some of them your dearest 
 relations. The Father calls to his Children, and the Child to 
 his Parents; Sisters call to Brothers, and Brothers to Sisters ; 
 Wives call to their Husbands, and Husbands to their Wives ; 
 they all call from Eternity to you, to be religious in life, and 
 so to be blessed afterwards. They want your company, to add 
 even to the happiness of Paradise. For their sakes, as well 
 as your own, they beseech you to bethink yourselves, while 
 ye have time for thinking, and to make your decisive choice 
 for Heaven immediately. Their souls yearn with more than 
 mortal tenderness towards you. They feel a generous con- 
 cern for you, superior to what they ever felt on earth. Their 
 thoughts are frequently flying back with a meltingness of 
 affection to you, and are hovering (as it wire) about the objects 
 of their dearest regards on earth. They are infinitely desirous 
 of your happiness. They long to see you among them. 
 And they would spring forward with rapturous exultation, 
 to greet you on your arrival there." 
 
 Sir H.Davy's ideas of the soul in another state of being, 
 seem to be modified by his philosophy. " Ik is the law of 
 Divine Wisdom," says Sir H., " that no spirit carries with it 
 into another state of being any habit or mental quality except 
 those which are connected with its new wants or enjoyments ;
 
 44 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES. 
 
 Tolume. It is a controversial tract, full of erudition, 
 
 and knowledge relating to the earth would be no more useful 
 to these glorified beings than their earthly system of organized 
 dust. There is, however, one sentiment or passion which the 
 spiritual essence carries with it into all its stages of being the 
 love of knowledge or of intellectual power, which is, in fact, 
 the love of infinite wisdom and unbounded power, or the love 
 of God." Sir H. Davy's Consolations, p. 57. 
 
 Sir H. Davy's VISION has been ridiculed by our Infidel 
 materialists. For my own part, I can see nothing absurd in 
 his persuasion that the female figure which he described, had 
 been preternaturaUy visible to his mind's eye ; and that at 
 length he actually met the representative of his visionary 
 friend. I do not enquire why a vision might not have ap- 
 peared to " Davy, as well as to Paul :" for this were to 
 adopt the phraseology of the tabernacle, which I abhor: But 
 the " opo/ia Sla rt\g vwicrof" in the Troad might, in a similar 
 manner, have re-appeared in Macedonia. A critic hath asked, 
 with great acuteness of discrimination " though events may be 
 prophesied because they are foreseen, how can the identity of 
 the figure in the Vision with the Female be so explained?" 
 See the Consolations, p. 71. 
 
 Under the sanction of Sir H. Davy, I will venture to re- 
 capitulate what I had urged, many years ago, on the subject of 
 
 our intercourse with the spiritual world. 
 
 ****** 
 
 One of the arguments against the probability of spirits ap- 
 pearing to us, is, that in every country the stories of appari- 
 tions are less numerous and less currently received, in propor- 
 tion as its civilization increases ; and that the greater number 
 have been discarded at first sight as absurd, or have been 
 proved, however specious, to be false, in consequence of a 
 close investigation. Allowing this argument its full force and 
 scope, it by no means tends to prove that spirits never appear. 
 All we can reasonably grant to it, must be, that the greater part 
 f the narratives of spirits have owed their origin to fancy, 
 their propagation to credulity. A nd, as credulity is proportion- 
 ed to ignorance, unenlightened countries must be more fertile 
 than the civilized in superstitious inventions. This must be 
 invariably the case. A vast diversity of phenomena which 
 were thought supernatural in the darker ages, are now gene- 
 rally known to arise in the common course of nature. But it 
 does not follow, (as Sir H. Davy rightly observes) that there 
 is nothing supernatural. On this ground we may reject the 
 miracles of Christ as illusions. There are a variety of false re- 
 ligions in the known world ; but we are not hence to conclude 
 that all are fictitious. Nor, because most apparition stories 
 are fabulous, does it follow, that all are fabulous.
 
 MEMOIRS OF WHITAKER. 45 
 
 clear in its historical deductions, convincing in its rea- 
 
 Again, it hath been argued, that in most tales of this sort 
 there is wanting Deo dignus vindice nodus that the matter is 
 too frivolous for supernatural interposition. But are we com- 
 petent judges on the subject? Perhaps, an affair apparently 
 trivial may involve some important event in futurity. Is it not 
 presumption in us to say, that the errand of a spirit was frivo- 
 lous? Or, admitting the truth of the observation in many cases, 
 shall we assert that nothing can possibly happen to require 
 or justify such an interference? Shall we presume to fathom 
 the counsels of God, or determine the ends of his providence? 
 
 That spirits somewhere exist, after their separation from 
 the body, I assume as a point allowed by the philosophical be- 
 liever. But, where they exist, is a question not easily re- 
 solved. Conscious of our actions, our departed friends may be 
 supposed to guard us from danger ; may pitch their tents around 
 our beds. It was Seeker's opinion (and the Archbishop was 
 never accused of credulity or superstition) that "our spirits, 
 " when separated from the body, shall be sensible of what is 
 " transacting on earth shall be witnesses of the conduct and 
 " sentiments of the friends we leave behind us." 
 
 But how, (it is asked,) can a spirit be visible an immaterial 
 being to our corporeal eyes ? 1 have always considered this 
 question as ridiculous: for it can never be solved, nor ought 
 it to be asked, before we know how spirits exist. But, granting 
 that they are essentially invisible, the Deity has surely the 
 power of investing a spirit with matter, in order to produce 
 visibility. 1 hope it is not unphilosophical, to talk of the soul 
 and the body, as united in one person. A spirit, then, by the 
 superinduction of the slightest shadowy substance may be 
 rendered visible to the eye, though still impalpable. 
 
 In short, I will venture to assert, that he, who truly believes 
 the scriptures, must believe in the Appearance of spirits. 
 
 That they were once accustomed to manifest themselves to 
 theeyesof man, is a truth which we cannot possibly gainsay. 
 The Apparition of Samuel, conjured up by the witch of Endor, 
 is strong scriptural evidence in point. I know it hath been 
 doubted whether Samuel really appeared or not: but it hath 
 been doubted only by those who would pervert the plain 
 meaning of scripture. The sacred historian positively asserts 
 that It was Samuel himself: the Son of Sirach credits the 
 assertion. Let us refer, however, to the gospel of Christ. In 
 St. Matthew, we find that our Saviour's disciples, when they 
 saw Jesus walking on the sea, *' were troubled, saying. Kit a 
 spirit." And our Saviour, after his resurrection, appearing to 
 his disciples, was dreaded as a tpirit : but ho said "Handle 
 " me and tee : for a spirit hath not flesh and bones, as ye see me 
 " have." Now it is not to be supposed, that our Saviour
 
 48 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES. 
 
 sonings, beautiful in its illustrations, and pathetic in it* 
 
 would humour notions absolutely false and groundless. If 
 spirits could not appear, he would have removed the terror of 
 his disciples, much more effectually, by informing them that 
 what they imagined, was impossible. But he affirms, that he 
 is not a spirit, with this very remarkable observation, that 
 *' a spirit hath not flesh and bonet." We have here even a de- 
 finition of a spirit. We learn, from the mouth of our Lord 
 himself, that a spirit, though impalpable, may be rendered 
 visible. If there was no such thing as a spirit, Jesus Christ 
 has here imposed a falshood upon the world. 
 
 That spirits have appeared, then, is plain from scripture. 
 And what should prevent their continuing still to visit us? It 
 hath indeed been supposed, that, from our Saviour's time all 
 Apparitions have ceased : bjit I see no reason to support the 
 conjecture. To collect instances of Apparitions is beside my 
 purpose ; which is merely to represent the absurdity of reject- 
 ing as false and unfounded, every account of our intercourse 
 with the world of spirits. As I am in possession, however, of 
 a story which seems well authenticated, and which, I believe, 
 was never published, I shall beg leave to present it to my 
 readers. 
 
 When Admiral Coates was commanding a squadron in the 
 East Indies he met with this extraordinary incident. Retiring 
 one night to his lodging-room, he saw the form of his wife 
 standing at his bed side, as plainly (he used to say) as he had 
 ever seen her in England. Greatly agitated, he hurried from 
 the room, and joined his brother-officers, who were not yet 
 retired to rest. But willing to persuade himself that this ap- 
 pearance was a mere illusion, he went again into his bed-room, 
 where he again saw his wife, in the saiue attitude as before. 
 She did not attempt to speak to him ; but then slowly waved 
 her hand and disappeared. In the last letters he had received 
 from England he was informed, that his wife was perfectly 
 well: his mind, in short, had been quite composed. Of this 
 very singular occurrence, however, he immediately set down 
 the particulars in his memorandum-book, noticing the exact 
 time in which it happened. He saw also a minute made to the 
 same purpose, by several of his friends on board. The ship 
 had begun her voyage homeward ; so that before he could 
 receive any intelligence from England, he arrived there: and 
 on enquiry for his wife, he not only found that she was dead, 
 but that she died at the very same hour of the night, when her 
 spirit appeared to him in the East Indies. This account the 
 admiral himself has often given to a near relation, who had 
 seen indeed the memorandum on the admiral's pocket-book; 
 and who more than once related to me the above particulars. 
 
 I would only remark in conclusion, that we should check
 
 MEMOIRS OF WHITAKER. 47 
 
 appeals to every Christian sentiment.* 
 
 every propensity to dismiss as untrue what we cannot account 
 for by the rules of short-sighted reason. Such a disposition, 
 which is founded in vanity and presumption, may materially 
 affect our happiness; since it generally terminates in pyrrho- 
 nism often in infidelity. The belief in spirits, which I hare 
 here professed, hath, doubtless, a religious tendency. There 
 are some, it is true, who would not believe, though one rose 
 from the dead : yet on most minds, the ideas I have suggested 
 concerning spirits might produce a beneficial influence. The 
 circumstance of apparitions includes the existence of the soul : 
 it implies a future state: it intimates our connection with the 
 world of spirits : it brings departed friends around us : it even 
 secures to us the endearing satisfaction of a parent's care, 
 though that parent be no more seen : it bids us " rejoice with 
 trembling:" and it inspires us with clearer and livelier idea* 
 of the omnipresence of our God. 
 
 These observations may be taken as a corollary to my 
 "Essay on the Soul in an Intermediate State." 
 
 Expressing their approbation of this Essay, I have letters 
 from Bishop BURGESS, from Bishop PELHAH, from the Arch- 
 deacons SHORT and NARES, and from Mr. RENNELL. Mr. Iten- 
 nell had written on the same subject. " Your Essay," said 
 Bishop Burgess, " will, as I conceive, not only be interesting 
 ' to all sincere Christians, but ail'ord a substantial answer to 
 " the materialists, whom Mr. Rennell has ably combated upon 
 "other grounds." 
 
 * Oriyin of Arianism, dedicated to Bishop Horseley. 
 
 "With abilities much less vigorous, and with learning much 
 more contracted, 1 have here engaged in assertion of the same 
 cause. But I have acted differently from your Lordship. I 
 have entered directly into the heart of the controversy. This 
 you declined to do, because the arguments on both sides had 
 been repeatedly canvassed, you thought, and nothing new 
 could be advanced upon the subject. I flatter myself, that I 
 have advanced something new and just upon it; and have in- 
 troduced a train of historical argumentation, which is at once 
 novel in its direction, comprehensive in its scope, and decisive 
 in its efficacy." 
 
 " The Logos is thus the Providence of God. The rises and 
 the falls of cities, kingdoms, and empires ; all that has marked 
 the public fortunes of man, with many and awful revolutions, 
 and 
 
 billowed high 
 
 With human agitation, 
 
 the public history of man ; result from the controuling super- 
 intendence of this God at the pole of the universe. He there, 
 with hi* strong hand, turns the globe as he pleases. Now one
 
 48 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES. 
 
 It has been said, that Horseley and Whitaker were 
 congenial spirits. But Horseley condescended not to 
 
 side is uppermost, and now another; as he sees will be best, 
 for his general plans of wisdom. And he makes his sun of 
 prosperity to shine upon this side; then to resign it up again, 
 to the darkness of adversity ; and so to pass and illumine ano- 
 ther: just as easily, just almost as regularly, and only not in 
 so short intervals of continuance, as he causes the returns of 
 day and night. 
 
 After an extract and translation from the poems of Orpheus, 
 he says: "With equal concern and admiration we see the old 
 bard, searching out for his Redeemer amidst the clouds of 
 Heathenism, catching a strong and lively glimpse of him at 
 times, and then losing him again in the gathering thickness of 
 his atmosphere. We see him very naturally exulting in the 
 view; calling on his son Musaeus. to share it with him; yet 
 considering himself in the act, as presuming to undraw the cur- 
 tain of the sanctuary, and to disclose the solemn secrets of God; 
 and so standing forth the venerable prophet of the Messiah, to 
 the early ages of Heathenism. His historical knowledge con- 
 cerning the great Chaldaean, induces us the less to wonder at 
 his theological acquaintance v.'ith the Logos. Ha had access 
 to some sources of information, which have been long useless 
 to the world, and have therefore been lost by it. And the cur- 
 rent from them runs with an amazing clearness and force 
 through the pages of this poet. 
 
 " Such is the astonishing delineation of the Grand Saviour 
 of mankind, by the very early pencil of this respectable Hea- 
 then ! It is very like the delineation of him given us by Virgil 
 before. Both are, no doubt, copies taken from the same primi- 
 tive original. This copy by Orpheus, is awfully pleasing and 
 agreeably striking. The veil of Heathen ignorance, indeed, 
 has thrown a shade over some of the finer features of the face. 
 But the figure comes livelily and boldly forward, upon the 
 canvas. We hail with religious rapture the Evangelical Re- 
 storer of man, we gaze with devout fondness upon our Patron 
 and our Benefactor, in this antient portrait by the hand of Hea- 
 thenism. And in reverential silence we contemplate, the dig- 
 nity of the Godhead on his brow, the lustre of the Godhead in 
 his eye, and the majesty of the Godhead through all the linea- 
 ments of his face. Such is the Jove of the Christians, as formed 
 by this Phidias of little fame! It serves wonderfully with 
 Virgil's, Epicharmus's, and all the other accounts before, to 
 shew us what an insight many good men had. in the early ages 
 of Heathenism, into the great counsels of Heaven for the reco- 
 very of man. It particularly shewsus in conjunction with them, 
 with what a strong effusion of light they saw the nature of Him, 
 who was to be the agent in carrying those counsels into exe-
 
 MEMOIRS OF WHITAKER. 49 
 
 thank Whitaker for his present of the " Arianism." 
 The praise of Van Mildert, however, is sterling praise. 
 
 cation, and in effecting tliat recovery by them. And it finally 
 unites with all, to shew us the three grand divisions of past and 
 of present mankind, Heathens, Jews, and Christians; all con- 
 curring to ascribe the plenitude of derivative Divinity to their 
 common Logos ; and all in concert acknowledging him with 
 pious awe, as their Brother by a material birth, as their In- 
 structor and Exhorter by office, and yet, under the Father, as 
 their CREATOR originally, their GOVERNOR and PRESERVER at 
 present, and their LORD GOD OMNIPOTENT for ever." 
 
 At the close of this noble work, Mr. \V . thus speaks of our 
 most notorious Socinians ; 
 
 " Even at Socinianisra did Mr. Chillingworth stop in all 
 probability, only because his life was suddenly terminated by 
 accident. Had it been continued to its natural length, he 
 would have gone probably to the very point at the bottom, to 
 which Mr. VVhiston shows us two of his own acquaintance ac- 
 tually going. We have already seen Mr. Chillingworth " by 
 ** degrees grown confident of nothing, and a sceptic at least in 
 " the great mysteries of Faith." All Arianism originates from 
 Infidelity. The Jewish, as we have already seen, resulted from 
 their Sadduceism. The same spirit, which makes a man ques- 
 tion the language of his God, rejects its obvious meaning, and 
 wrests it into one, that common sense proclaims could never be 
 intended, by such language from such a Being ; in a single 
 effort more, tortures the language into Socinianism. and in ano- 
 ther, rejects the revelation that needed all this. Infidelity thus 
 easily becomes, at once the womb and the grave of Arianism. 
 " From dust thou art," is written by the hand of God upon the 
 brow of Arianism, " and unto dust thou shall return." There 
 are only three stages of declension, from Christianity into 
 Deism. Mr. \Vhiston showed himself very ready for the se- 
 cond, when, with all the anticipated blasphemy of the most sa- 
 vage Socinian, he dared to charge the scriptures of God with 
 weakness and absurdity. Mr. Chillingworth had finished two 
 of them, when he died ; and was ready, I fear, for the third. 
 Chubb too, whose name was formerly of some notoriety in the 
 lists of infidel fame, but is nearly lost and forgotten in the 
 crowds upon the rolls at present; was first an Arian, then a 
 Socinian, and finally a Deist. Morgan also, another phantom 
 of unbelief, that once stalked about formidable in its nothing- 
 ness, was a Presbyterian minister, who commenced an Arian, 
 and concluded an Infidel. And Dr. Priestley, as we may fairly 
 conjccturefrom Ihe past to the future, in the history of his owo 
 mind ; and as we may reasonably infer, from these dreadful ex- 
 amples of others ; having not stopped, as his obvious original 
 Mr. Whiston stopped, but having gone, as Mr. Chillingwortk
 
 50 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES. 
 
 Even had Horseley's silence implied censure, the ap- 
 plause of the Bishop of Durham would have more 
 than counterbalanced it.* 
 
 went before, from orthodoxy down through Arianism into So- 
 cinianism; is oven now rolling on with Morgan and with 
 Chubb, and will at last be engulphed with them, in " that Se- 
 bornian.bog" of Deism. The Doctor is already come 1 trem- 
 ble while I repeat it is come already to intimate what? 
 the very fallibility even of our Blessed Redeemer himself. 
 ** Some are now unreasonably apprehensive," he cries in one 
 of his later pamphlets, " that those who disbelieve the miracu- 
 " lous conception, or the plenary inspiration of Christ and the 
 *' Apostles, in cases w.ith respect to which the object of their 
 " mission did not require inspiration ; are in danger of reject- 
 " ing Christianity." Dr. Priestley thus takes away from our 
 Saviour, as he had antecedently taken from his apostles, that 
 plenitude of inspiration in preaching or writing about Christi- 
 anity ; which alone can preclude the intrusion of error, and 
 ensure the presence of truth. He reduces Him " in whom 
 were hid all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge," to the 
 same level of lowness in illumination, to which he had reduced 
 his apostles and evangelists before. He consequently ranks 
 " the Lord from heaven," in that line of inconclusive reason- 
 rs ; in which he had previously ranked the principal of his 
 human agents. And the only excuse which can be made, 
 for such a deistical flight of impiety, is what I have plead- 
 ed in favour of Mr. Winston ; what is seemingly suggest- 
 ed to us here, by the Doctor's overleaping all the intermediate 
 operations of his own mind, coming at a bound to the conclu- 
 sion, and even speaking of this as known to be adopted and 
 avowed before, when no adoption appears, and no avowal is 
 noticed ; and what, I would fain hope, will prove a valid ex- 
 cuse in that day, when the Insulted Saviour shall become an 
 Avenging Judge, and an eternity of fortune shall be suspended 
 on his tongue. At least the Doctor has, with a melancholy 
 usefulness to the whole world of Christianity, shown us the 
 regular progress of Arian infidelity consummated in bis own 
 history; and appears before us at this moment a striking and 
 solemn evidence himself, that to deny the Divinity of our Sa- 
 viour, does, by the necessary impulse of endeavouring to vin- 
 dicate the denial, by the judicial curse of God upon the re- 
 doubled impiety, and by a precipitate gradation of absurdity 
 from both, draw the mind, "at last, to deny the very inspiration 
 of all our scriptural writers, 10 deny even the very inspiration 
 f our grand arid oral Teacher Himself, and consequently to 
 charge both with Felly and with Falsehood in their instruc- 
 tions ; so to shelter finally t'mm refutation, in the blasphemies 
 f Judaism, of Heathenism, and of Hell." 
 
 * See Van Mink it's Boyle Lectures.
 
 MBMOIRS OF WHITAKER. 51 
 
 In a Sermon preached at Topsham at the Archdeacon 
 of Exeter's Visitation in 1794, on a text peculiarly 
 applicable to Arianism (viz. 2. St. John 9. 10. 11.) 
 I referred to an incident, which has been illustrated by 
 Whitaker. This Sermon the late Archdeacon Moore 
 was pleased to notice with high approbation. He read 
 the MS. with avidity; and he pointed out the follow- 
 ing as well narrated and reasoned upon: 
 
 " At the time when St. John composed his Gospel, 
 and probably when he wrote his three Epistles, he was 
 resident at Ephesus. At this juncture, one of the 
 apostle's greatest enemies was Cerinthus; who was 
 strenuous in preaching to his followers in that city, what 
 we now distinguish by the doctrine of Arianism. 
 
 Now we have it on the authority of Irenaeus, that 
 St. John published his Gospel, in order to check the 
 growth of those dangerous errors which Cerinthus had 
 propagated with so much industry. 
 
 That St. John wrote his three Epistles, also, with the 
 same view, is extremely probable. The second Epistle 
 (from which the text is taken) addressed to a certain 
 honourable- matron and her children, was admirably 
 well calculated for this purpose. 
 
 And the text itself refers to the Arians, and possibly 
 to Cerinthus himself ; at the same time that it suggests 
 a hint to the disciples of Christ, with respect to their 
 behaviour towards heretics. 
 
 In the text, St. John observes, " He that abideth in 
 the doctrine of Christ, hath both the Father and the 
 Son." Here, it should seem, the divinity of Christ is 
 held forth in opposition to the Arian heresy. The 
 apostle then proceeds: *' If there come any unto you, 
 and bring- not this doctrine, receive him not into your 
 house, neither bid him God-speed: for he that biddeth 
 him God-speed, is partaker of his evil deeds." From 
 these words it appears, that those heretical seducers, 
 who, in the earliest days of the Church, denied the es- 
 sential doctrines of Christianity, were considered as 
 objects of detestation, and excluded from all communion 
 with the true believer. And the prohibition bid him
 
 52 * BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES. 
 
 not God-speed, seems to have been borrowed from 
 the Jewish form, or to allude to the Jewish practice to- 
 wards excommunicated persons; who were not only cut 
 off from all intercourse with their brethren, but even 
 marked out as unworthy of common-place civilities. 
 
 If the text be pointed at the Arian, with regard to the 
 Arian, also, it furnishes a rule of conduct. The apostle 
 directs the honourable lady and her family, to whom 
 the Epistle is addressed, not to receive an Arian into 
 her house. 
 
 The rites of hospitality practised in those days are 
 well known. The rich considered it as a duty incum- 
 bent on them to pay every attention to the traveller, to 
 receive him into their houses, and to furnish him with 
 proper refreshments on his journey. And during the 
 more simple ages, the stranger required no introductory 
 formalities to secure his welcome. But, in the politer 
 eras, when the manners became refined, both the appear- 
 ance and the character of the stranger were particularly 
 noticed. 
 
 Such must hare been the state of manners at the 
 place where St. John's female correspondent resided; 
 since he exhorts her to be always on her guard against 
 the Arian, not to receive within her doors a person so 
 obnoxious to the Church ; and, having denied him ad- 
 mittance, not to bid him God-speed. 
 
 This, though in the common acceptation a term of 
 mere ceremony, was yet considered by the apostle in a 
 serious light. To bid a man God-speed, was literally 
 to wish him success in the name of God. And to wish 
 such a heretic success in the name of God, was, in the 
 apostle's idea, no other than to sanction his heresy ; 
 and in truth to become " a partaker of his evil deeds." 
 
 If merely to receive an Arian as a traveller, were 
 unworthy the sincere believer, it would have been much 
 more indecorous to treat him as an acquaintance, agree- 
 ably to the usual modes of intercourse. Perhaps this 
 is the true meaning of the text in which case, the 
 apostle cautions the elect lady against entertaining an
 
 MEMOIRS OF WHITAKER. 53 
 
 Arian in her house. And he might have pointed to 
 some notorious Arian, possibly to Cerinthus himself. 
 
 That this explanation is just, is probable from several 
 circumstances. But what more particularly illustrates 
 the text, is the conduct of St. John himself, at an acci- 
 dental interview with his grand opponent. 
 
 Cerinthus had revolted from the Church, controvert- 
 ing its received doctrines even in the face of the vener- 
 able apostle, and seducing the multitude from the 
 genuine faith of Christ. 
 
 And so extremely obnoxious was this heretic to St. 
 John, that the apostle one day meeting him at the bath, 
 rushed from the bathing-house with the strongest ex- 
 pressions of antipathy. This anecdote, though there be 
 every reason to believe it true, hath been often re- 
 presented as apocryphal. 
 
 If, however, it be unfounded, the greater part of our 
 historical records both antient and modern, must be 
 discredited on the same grounds. But if we receive it 
 as authentic, we shall see in the most striking light, 
 '* what a great object of aversion an Arian was to an 
 Apostle." 
 
 I shall first state the fact exactly as it is related.* 
 Jrenaeus informs us, that " at the time he wrote, there 
 were people living who heard Polycarp declare, that 
 John, the disciple of our Lord, entering a balhing- 
 
 * Eiffiv or aKi)icoortc avrn [UoXvicapirov'], on \mavvr\a o 
 row Ki>pinjta0ijr;c, tv ri) Efaffu iropivdtie Xuffa<r9at, Kai iluv 
 taia KrjpivQov, tfyXaro ru BaXavtiH pi] Xsffaptvoc, a\\ eirinruv, 
 " <t>vyui(iiv,[ui icai TO flaXavsiov av^nriarj, tvtov ovrog K.rjpiv9n, 
 TU ri)Q a\ij0ac t^Qpu." Jrenanis, Adi}. Hasr. in. 3. p. 
 204. For a more complete account of this incident, see Origin 
 of Arianism, pp. 439, 442. At the conclusion of Whitaker's 
 learned and ingenious note, we are forcibly struck with the fol- 
 lowing observation : ' The faith of the generality of scholars, 
 in the early and human history of our religion, is like the rock- 
 ing-stone of our Heathen ancestors ; a something thrown into a 
 tremulous agitation, by the stalk of an asphodal touching it ; 
 while even the arm of a giant cannot really unsettle it from hi 
 centre!" What an admirable illustration is this! worth volumes 
 pon volumes of cold phkginalic reasoning.
 
 54 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES. 
 
 house at Ephesus, and seeing Cerinthus there, abruptly 
 withdrew without bathing, and at the same instant ex 
 claimed : " Let us fly, lest the roof fall down upon u* 
 whilst Cerinthus is within, that enemy to the truth." 
 
 Irenseus tells this curious anecdote on the positive 
 authority of some then alive, who had received it from 
 Poly car p. And Eusebius cites Irenaeus for the inci- 
 dent, as relating to Cerinthus. 
 
 In the mean time, it cannot be dissembled, that 
 Epiphanius had applied the fact concerning the bathing- 
 house to Ebion. But it appears, that Ebion preached 
 his heresy equally with Ceriuthus, in the place of St. 
 John's residence. They were contemporaries : and both 
 might have met the eyes of the apostle, at the time when 
 he rushed from the bath. And as they were both 
 preachers of Arianism, whether St. John had fled from 
 Ebion or from Cerinthus, is of little consequence to the 
 main point; since he thus expressed, in either case, his 
 indignation against the doctrine. Instead, therefore, of 
 doubting the truth of this incident, from this variation 
 of Epiphanius, I should rather consider it as more fully 
 confirmed by a collateral evidence. 
 
 In recounting the transactions of our Saviour's life, 
 the four Evangelists differ much more from each other, 
 than Epiphanius from Irenaeus. But this difference is 
 generally accepted as a proof of their historical inde- 
 pendence ; and serves, therefore, to corroborate their 
 testimony with respect to the more essential points, in 
 which they all agree, From daily observation, indeed, 
 we are sufficiently assured, that the narratives of two 
 distinct persons very seldom correipond in the subor- 
 dinate circumstances of any transaction. This varia- 
 tion, then, of Epiphanius, seems an additional proof of 
 the reality of the incident in question. The objection, 
 therefore, of a celebrated writer, that it rests only oa 
 the testimony of Irenseus, is false ; since, in this ease, 
 we have the testimony of Epiphanius also. 
 
 Admitting, however, Dr. Middleton's objection, that 
 it rests only on the testimony of Irenaeus, shall we, for
 
 MEMOIRS OP WHITAKBR. 55 
 
 this reason, refuse our assent to the truth of it ? If 
 such an incident may not be received on the credit of 
 one historian, what is to become of the general history 
 of mankind ? What shall we say to the histories of 
 Thucydides, Polybius, or Tacitus ? 
 
 But our objector still further urges, that it is told by 
 Irenaeus, at second-hand, or from hear-say. Yet it is 
 founded on the evidence of Polycarp, a witness of the 
 highest credibility, a disciple and companion of St. 
 John, at the very time it happened. What evidence 
 in history can be superior to this, but that of an eye- 
 witness? And how was this testimony conveyed to 
 Irenaeus? Not by one relator, but by more by per- 
 sons actually alive at the time of Irenaeus's writing ; 
 who had received it from the lips of Polycarp himself, 
 and who had, themselves, recited the testimony of Poly- 
 carp to Irenaeus. 
 
 If this evidence be not admitted, a Livy or a Sueto- 
 nius, whose proof of facts prior to themselves, can be 
 evidence only at second, third and fourth hand, must be 
 no longer ranked with historians." 
 
 We have read no other work of Mr. W. in Divinity, 
 except the " Real Origin of Government,*' expanded 
 into a considerable treatise from a Sermon which he had 
 preached before Bishop Buller, at his Lordship's pri- 
 mary Visitation;* and " the Introduction to Flindell's 
 Bible, together with notes and illustrations.^ 
 
 * It was indeed a long winded discourse ; resembling one of 
 the Crorawellian times ( which W. so much abominated) not 
 in spirit or sentiment, but certainly in length. One glass had 
 rundown, and another was almost at its last sand, when fre- 
 quent yawnings betrayed the lassitude of the Diocesan and hit 
 reverend brethren. And on the next day our good Bishop was 
 pleased to whisper to me, (the preacher for the same year) on 
 our way to Helston Church " Be more laconic than your 
 friend Whitaker. At Truro, yesterday, he put to the test the 
 patience of us all I am sure of the ladies, to whom he vouch- 
 lafed BO quarter ! And so highly was he in alt, that at the con- 
 clusion he forgot the presence of the Bishop, and pronounced 
 " the Peace of God," like " a son of thunder I"
 
 56 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES. 
 
 Flindell's proposals for publishing this Bible were 
 introduced by the following Address to his Christian 
 readers, which I drew up at his request. 
 
 "In addressing "the Christian Reader," it seems per- 
 fectly unnecessary to enlarge on the value of those 
 sacred Scriptures, which can alone afford him hope and 
 comfort in life and in death : his Bible, he is assured, 
 is the best gift of God to man. 
 
 Without the assistance of the Book of Revelation, 
 we shall vainly attempt to read the Book of Nature. 
 In the latter, it is true, we observe the strong characters 
 of a Deity; we discover some scattered hints of con- 
 nexion between that Deity and ourselves ; and we meet 
 with a few faint intimations of a future state. But, in 
 the former, we are introduced to our Creator and Pre- 
 server the Universal Parent; " Jesus, the Mediator 
 of the New Covenant:" " to Life and Immortality! 1 ' 
 Conscious of our ignorance, infirmities, and sins, we 
 look up to the God of nature with doubt, anxiety, and 
 terror ; but we approach the God of Revelation with 
 gratitude and humble confidence : to him " we draw 
 near" " in full assurance of faith ;'' and, though 
 " trembling," we " rejoice." Well, therefore, might 
 our Redeemer enjoin us to "search the Scriptures:" 
 (t for those (says he) are they which testify of me." 
 
 That all the passages in the sacred volume which 
 respect the moral conduct are intelligible even to the 
 meanest capacity, is confessedly true ; and we can ne- 
 ver be sufficiently grateful to God, for addressing us in 
 so familiar a manner, on points the most essential to sal- 
 vation. But there are many " things" in Scripture 
 " hard to be understood:" and it becomes every Chris- 
 tian to make himself acquainted with his Bible, as far 
 as he hath opportunity. For the sake, therefore, of 
 their brethren and themselves, it is expedient that the 
 more learned and enlightened should endeavour to re- 
 See in the letters of the late Mr, Reeves, an encomium OB 
 Whitaker' " Origin of Government."
 
 MEMOIRS OF WHITAKER. 57 
 
 move difficulties, to reconcile apparent contradictions, 
 and to illustrate obscurities : and if the " Annotations" 
 proposed, in any degree answer the wishes of the Com- 
 piler, it will be no trivial satisfaction to reflect, that his 
 labours shall, one day, meet with a sure recompence." 
 I was unwilling, for many reasons to affix my name 
 to the Proposals.* 
 
 * The following Letters refer to the subject. 
 
 Helston, July, 23, 1798. 
 
 Reverend Sir, 
 
 I cannot but think that the want of your 
 
 name in the Proposals will be a great disadvantage to the 
 work. Whatever may be the merits of your compilation they 
 cannot be known at the commencement of it ; and even after I 
 have made some progress in the publication, they will only ap 
 pear to the discerning few. But the weightiest consideration 
 is, that I shall lose the Gentry and Clergy, who would counte- 
 nance the work in compliment to your name, and whose sub- 
 scription would give a kind of fashion among the lower ranks. 
 These are weighty considerations with me ; and, doubtless, 
 the reasons that govern you are no less weighty on your part. 
 Cannot we then hit upon a medium that may obviate the diffi- 
 culty, in some measure, on both sides, as thus : Suppose I 
 print a kind of circular letter which may be sent under seal to 
 the Gentry individually soliciting their patronage, and giving 
 them to understand that the work is compiled by you ? 
 
 T. F. 
 
 Helston, January 9, 1799. 
 Reverend Sir, 
 
 As it will not be convenient for me 
 
 to wait upon you on Sunday next, I take the liberty of drop- 
 ping you a line, which will answer the purpose equally as well. 
 I am nearly ready to go to work with the Bible, and hope, as 
 soon as Mrs. P's recovery will allow you to return to your 
 studies, that you will begin the Annotations, and prepare half 
 a dozen numbers ; as, to prevent any kind of interruption in 
 the publication, and to have time for revising the copy, it will 
 be absolutely necessary that we always keep some distance be 
 fore the press. 
 
 When I last talked with you on this subject, I think you 
 proposed to leave the Introduction till the work should be com- 
 pleted; but it appears to me much better that we commence 
 with it ; as it will make a greater show of original matter, tend 
 to swell the first number, and give an opportunity of apologis- 
 ing for the delay in publishing the first No. (so generally com- 
 plained of) it will also give scope fur a deal of fine writing,
 
 53 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES. 
 
 That I did not comply with Flindell's request to 
 write the " INTRODUCTION" I have often rejoiced : for 
 the Introduction was afterwards written by Whitaker 
 himself.* 
 
 tending to raise the expectations of the subscrihers, and pre- 
 possess the public with a high idea of the abilities of the Editor 
 (Annotator). I don't know, Sir, whether you may approve of 
 this trade finesse; but, without some management few specula- 
 tions succeed ; and as the Annotator's name is unknown, mine 
 only is responsible to the public; and not my name only, but 
 entrenous my existence at Helston : for if it fails, the weight 
 of my expensive preparations will infallibly break my back. 
 
 T. F. 
 
 * " In the Literary Anecdotes of the 18th century," says a 
 correspondent in the Gentleman's Magazine, " we have an in- 
 teresting memoir of the celebrated Historian of Manchester. 
 The article is well written ; and came, if I mistake not, from 
 the pen of a Poet and Divine resident in Cornwall. In enume- 
 rating the various productions of Mr. W. he tells us, that W. 
 was the author of the Preface to Flindell's Bible. Mr. P. I am 
 sure, will forgive me for telling him, through the medium of 
 your Magazine, that there is no Bible extant under such a 
 name; and as I have heard the enquiry often made, he perhaps 
 will be so polite as to acquaint me through the same channel, 
 what name, in correction of his error, should be substituted for 
 that of Flindell? -I will avail myself of this opportunity to 
 express my regret that Mr. P. has not favoured the public, as 
 was his intention some years ago, with a more extended Life 
 of Mr. Whitaker. Such a work, I trust, for the credit of our 
 day, would be eagerly received, and widely read. The learn- 
 ing of W. was immense, his industry untiring, his fancy highly 
 poetical, and his spirit of antiquarian research ever active, 
 acute, and perspicacious: but most of all, he is to be held in 
 honoured remembrance for his unblenching reverence for the 
 Gospel of Christ, and for a loveof his Redeemer's glory, which 
 held such a sovereignty over his heart and his affections, that he 
 disdained even for a moment to compromise these precious sen- 
 timents, but immolated instantaneously on their altar his long- 
 established intercourse and friendship, (knit together by kin- 
 dred pursuits) with the renowned author of " the Decline and 
 Fall," so soon as the cloven foot of Infidelity betrayed itself." 
 See Gent. Mag. for Dec. 1827, pp. 490 and 500. 
 
 The following is my answer. " I have to state, that Flin- 
 dell's Bible was published in numbers, first, at Helston, and 
 then at Falmouth in 1799 and 1800, by Mr. T. F. (to whom 
 Cornwall was indebted for an excellent weekly Newspaper); 
 that the " Clergyman of the Church of England" under whose
 
 MEMOIRS OF WHITAKER. 59 
 
 Whether as a Poet, our friend deserves high considera- 
 tion, may possibly be questioned. I was once inclined 
 
 snperintendance(as the title page sets forth) the Bible was con- 
 ducted, was your humble servant ; that in consequence of Mr. 
 Flindell's having taken improper freedom in interweaving his 
 own notes with mine, I withdrew from him my assistance ; and 
 that, in 1800, Mr. W. furnished him with an *' Introduction," 
 some parts of which are equal in vigour and luminous descrip- 
 tion and elegance, to any production of our celebrated anti- 
 quary. From Whitaker's notes, likewise, or rather disserta- 
 tions on Jeremiah, Ezekiel, and Daniel, this Bible is a trea- 
 sure; doubtless not sufficiently appreciated, and little known 
 beyond Devonshire and Cornwall. Among the works which I 
 have often projected, are the New Testament, with notes, to 
 complete Flindell's Bible, and a Life of W. I possess very in- 
 teresting papers by W.. in antiquities and theology and various 
 criticism. And though at the end of well nigh seven decades, 
 I labour under so many infirmities as to render me quite inca- 
 pable of performing my Church duties without occasional help, 
 I have not even now abandoned every thought of a revision of 
 numerous annotations on the Four Gospels, scattered among 
 my papers; and also of memoranda illustrating the life of a 
 friend, whom (I had almost said above all others) I loved and 
 esteemed. And I know not how my time could be employed 
 more usefully or pleasantly than in paying such a tribute to 
 Friendship, or in presenting such an offering to Religion !" 
 See Gent. Mag. for Jan. 1828, p. 10. The publication of the 
 New Testament must be a matter of future consideration. 
 
 I shall here bring forward, under Whitaker's wing, our 
 honest and spirited Printer and Editor of the Bible, as a theo- 
 logical reasoner. 
 
 Flindell was, doubtless, a man of strong understanding, tlio* 
 by no means polished or refined. And original thinkingap- 
 pcars almost in every page of" the Philosophy of Reason and 
 Revelation." 
 
 " I have found" says Flindell, " that the inspired writers, 
 differ radically from their learned commentators. The former 
 view, with the comprehensive and combining powers of what 
 in other sciences is called, " a professional eye," the divine 
 scheme of Revelation as one vast but simple whole. With them, 
 the Patriarchal and Mosaic dispensations, the book of Job and 
 the Gospel, all teach but one and the same lesson, and are all 
 but so many various means of obtaining the same end namely, 
 the healing of that breach in the order of the creation, which 
 was occasioned by the Fall ; an event but for which the pre- 
 sent fabrics of society could not have existed, because present 
 principles of action could not have actuated. Nor, butfor that 
 Fall, could the present Revelations have existed, either in their
 
 60 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES. 
 
 to the opinion, that his poetical pretensions were respect- 
 able, and that, had he courted the favour of the Muses, 
 
 principles and theory, nor that body of history, by which those 
 principles and that theory are so clearly demonstrated. Learn- 
 ed expounders of the Bible have not so comprehended it, as a 
 WHOLE ; because they have viewed it through the spectacles of 
 the Greeks, to whom it was not revealed, and who could not, 
 without its aid, comprehend the mental power they exercised." 
 Before I take leave of Flindell. I cannot but repeat that my 
 opinion of his integrity and fidelity, remains unshaken. 
 
 To his correspondence with the Jacobinical MARY HAYS 
 respecting my " Unsexed Females," 1 have more than ones, I 
 believe, alluded. This lady had thrown out a lure, to tempt 
 him to furnish her with some anecdotes of my character which 
 she might turn to my disadvantage. But he shut his ears to the 
 voice of the charmer. These were the offensi ve lines 
 " Veteran Barbauld caught the strain, 
 And deem'd her songs of love, her lyrics vain ; 
 And Robinson to Gaul her fancy gave, 
 And trac'd the picture of a Deist's grave j 
 And Helen, fired by freedom, bade adieu 
 To all her broken visions of Peru ; 
 And Yearsley, who had warbled, nature's child. 
 Midst twilight dews, her minstrel ditties wild, 
 (Tlio', soon a wanderer from her meads and milk, 
 She long'd to rustle, like hersex, in silk) 
 Now stole the modish grin, the sapient sneer ; 
 And flippant HAYS assumed a cynic leer ; 
 While classic Kauffman her Priapus drew, 
 And linger'd a sweet blush with Emma Crewe." 
 The " Letters and Essays," by Mary Hays, were thus re- 
 viewed by myself in the English Review. 
 
 " The author intimates, in her preface to this work (which ig 
 inscribed to Dr. Disney) that 'her Essays might, with greater 
 'propriety, have been entitled Sketches; as they are rather 
 ' outlines, than finished pieces.' To the truth of this remark 
 we do not deny our assent. The question is, whether the 
 world has much reason to be obliged to the lady for her outlines. 
 Perhaps a mere whisper from Mary Hays may be gratifying to 
 the public ear. The fair author thus proceeds, abruptly with- 
 drawing our attention from herself to the great advocate for 
 the rights of woman : ' Impressed with sentiments of the 
 sincerest reverence and esteem for the author of a work in 
 which every page is irradiated by truth and genius, I cannot 
 mention the admirableadvocate for the rights of woman (rights 
 founded in nature, reason, and justice, though so long de- 
 graded and sunk into frivolity and voluptuous refinement),
 
 MEMOIRS OF WHITAKER. 61 
 
 he might have ranked among their votaries not " the 
 
 4 without pausing 1 to .pay a tribute of public respect in the name 
 ' of my sex, I will say, of grateful respect, to the virtue and 
 
 * talents of a writer who, with equal courage an<l ability, hath 
 ' endeavoured to rescue the female mind from those prejudices 
 ' by which it has been systematically weakened, and whicli 
 4 have been the canker of genuine virtue ; for purity of heart 
 
 * can only be the result of knowledge and reflection.' We 
 have here a full display of the style, the manner, and the senti- 
 ments, of Mary Hays, who stands forward one of the boldest 
 beneath the standard of Wollstonecraft. And yet she laments 
 the sacrifice of all 'the graceful sensibilities.' ' A reformation 
 ' of manners (she tells us) is war.ting ; the fountain is poisoned 
 
 * at its source ; sensible and virtuous individuals vainly strug- 
 
 * gle against the stream, which continues to draw down the nia- 
 ' jority with destructive force.' But how is this reformation 
 of manners to be effected J We are partly informed by Mrs. 
 Wollstonecraft herself. This pure and perfect female (from 
 the simplicity* of her heart) declares that, in order to lay the 
 axe to the root of corruption, it would be proper to familiarise 
 both sexes, from their earliest youth, to an unreserve in dis- 
 coursing on those topics which are generally not introduced 
 into conversation from a false principle of modesty; and that 
 she sees no reason why the organs of generation should not be 
 mentioned or called by their proper names, in promiscuous 
 company, just as we should speak of our eyes or our hands. 
 Mrs. Wollstonecraft adds, if we recollect rightly .(for we re- 
 port this from memory) that her opinion, though apparently 
 singular, had received the sanction of a very sensible man, 
 whom she ranked among her most intimate friends. 
 
 The particular pieces which our author notices in her pre- 
 face are, a Fragment in the Manner of the old Romances ; an 
 Eastern Tale; and Poems, ' written at an early period of life, 
 4 as exercises of fancy.' These performances have unquestion- 
 ably all the marks of youth ungifted by genius and unformed 
 by taste. ' The Invocation to the Nightingale (she adds) has 
 
 * been inserted in Harrison's Collection of British Poetry. 
 ' The Ode to a Bullfinch, one of the Sonnets, and the Eastern 
 
 * Tale, have made their appearance in the Universal Magazine.' 
 They were, doubtless, well adapted to the soil where they 
 sprung up ; and, thus cruelly transplanted, they must quickly 
 fade away and die 1 
 
 We proceed to lay before our readers a few extracts that may 
 facilitate their judgment of this pretty miscellany. 
 
 In the first number Miss Mary Hays 'conceives that the 
 4 Wakefleldian controversy is a question of some importance.' 
 
 In an introduction to a book published professedly for the use of youug 
 ladies I Bluih, blush ! Miss Mary Hays. 
 V
 
 6t BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES. 
 
 sweetest warbler" but melodious enough to win the ear 
 
 Bat her conceptions are indigesla moles. The whole of this 
 paper is a mere abortion. ' I am not contending about the 
 ' propriety of public worship I should apprehend no danger 
 
 * from priestcraft if the state would not interfere about the man- 
 ' ner of it.' ; ' Whetherpreaching, debating, singing, praying 
 'better have any religion than none at all." 'Christianity, 
 ' kept distinct from civil policy, will fall like arichdew, fruc- 
 ' tifying and fertilising.' 'Priestcraft is a creature of the 
 ' state. ' I love the gospel.' Such are OUT author's decisions 
 and opinions. 
 
 In number fhe second she insinuates, that ' it needs little of 
 ' the spirit of prophecy to predict, that the present just and li- 
 ' beral notions on the subject of cHril government, 'which, like 
 
 * a flood of light, irradiate Europe, will, in future periods. 
 ' produce certain, though slow effects ;' most devoutly prays, 
 ' that a wise reformation of the gross corruptions and abuses 
 ' which deform the present system of government in this coun- 
 ' try, may preclude all dreadful extremities ;' observes, that 
 'all monarchical and aristocratical governments carry within 
 
 * themselves the seeds of their dissolution' exults in the idea 
 that ' posterity will reap the benefit of the present struggles 
 ' with France' and closes her triumphs with the prediction, 
 that these struggles will, ' sooner or later, bring on a total 
 ' dissolution of all the forms of government that subsist in the 
 
 * Christian countries of Europe.' 
 
 But it cannot be expected that we should pursue the lady 
 through all her wanderings. That her political ideas are dia- 
 metrically opposite to ours, is sufficiently obvious ; yet a dif- 
 ference in opinion would not operate to prejudice our minds 
 against good sense, or taste, or genius. In the work before 
 us, however, we have nothing to commend : it every where ex- 
 cites our contempt. We despise dogmas that originate in af- 
 fected wisdom we are disgusted by flippancy and frivolous- 
 iiess that betray all the conceit of a half-educated female. In 
 vain may Mary Hays exhibit her lucubrations to prove, that 
 ' woman possesses the same powers as man' that (as she 
 modestly expresses herself) ' there is no sexual character' 
 and that 'the name of Wollstonecraft will ^ro -do<wn to pos- 
 terity with reverence ;' whilst, -we suppose, 
 
 her attendant sail 
 
 Pursues the triumph, and partakes the gale.* 
 
 Is it for woman (or for man either) we cannot repress our 
 indignation to despise authority to speak evil of dignities 
 to scoff at priests and kings to point her sarcasms at the 
 best of sovereigns, ' who, with paternal solicitude (she says)
 
 MEMOIRS OP WHITAKER, 63 
 
 of the most fastidious. There is certainly much poetic 
 
 ' endeavours to guard his people from light and knowlege by 
 ' royal proclamations' and, to complete the climax of imper- 
 ' tinence and malignity, ' by dragging the usurper to punish- 
 ' raent, the victim of his usurpation?' But we are as one that 
 beateth 'the air:' the thing is too weak to be dangerous. 
 In conclusion, however, we shall leave it to our readers to 
 comment on the following passages: 4 Numbers of women t 
 ' have known, whose studies have been confined to Mrs. 
 
 * Glasse's Art of Cookery, and whose time has been spent in 
 ' the kitchen, altercating with and changing of servants ; who 
 
 * have muddled away their time and money in the disorderly 
 
 * management of hands without a head.' ' The vindicator of 
 4 female rights is thought incompetent to form any just opinion 
 4 of the cares and duties of a conjugal state, from never having- 
 4 entered the matrimonial lists. What nonsense this ! From 
 4 such notions (most devoutly 1 repeat a part of the Liturgy), 
 4 good Lord ! deliver us !' ' I am no advocate for cramping 
 4 the minds and bodies of young girls, by keeping them for 
 4 ever poring over needle- work. I doubt whether there will be 
 4 any sewing in the next world I How then will those employ 
 4 themselves who have done nothing in this?' 4 A good mother 
 4 forsooth, must ' oblige her children to say their prayers, 
 4 and go statedly to church.' ' In some minds there is a con- 
 ' geniality were I not a materialist, I should say a recogni- 
 4 tion of souls. Young women without fortunes (who do not 
 4 marry) have scarce any other resource than in prostitu- 
 4 tion.' 4 Women are designed for higher purposes than the 
 4 drudgery of bearing and suckling children 1' 
 
 Such are the crude effusions of Mary Hays, to whom we 
 cannot but acknowlege we have paid a greater attention than 
 our duty to the public may strictly warrant. Yet we have 
 been sedulous to bring forward into full view every female 
 politician and philosopher that meet us in the paths of liter- 
 ature ; since to render these characters conspicuous, is gener- 
 ally speaking, to expose them to the contempt and ridicule 
 which they deserve, by detecting their affectations, their vani- 
 ties, and theirfollies. And thus the pupils of Mrs. Wollstone- 
 craft actually invalidate, by these specimens of themselves, 
 the very doctrines which they are labouring to establish. 
 Proudly to vaunt their intellectual powers, and to exhibit, at 
 the same instant, the most ' damning proofs' of mental im- 
 becility, has (providentially, we had almost said) been the fate 
 of these literary ladies. And soon will it appear, that, to be 
 a skilful housewife, just as well accords with the female char- 
 acter, as to be a quibbling necessitarian ; that to be clever as 
 an economist, is not less creditable, than to be wise as a repub- 
 lican ; that to instruct her family in those good old maxims by
 
 64 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES. 
 
 imagery, bold or beautiful, interspersed in all his works: 
 
 which ' her whiskered sires and mothers mild' had regula- 
 lated their conduct, may be as amiable in a woman, as to give 
 lessons to the world at large, on princely domination and po- 
 pular resistance; and, that it may be no derogation from her 
 dignity even to manage her needle with dexterity, though there 
 be " no sewing in the next world."* 
 
 The following letter displays Flindeirs character in almost 
 all its bearings. 
 
 " From Prison, Exeter, Sept. 28, 1821. 
 REV. SIR, 
 
 Accept ray sincere thanks for the kind interest you 
 have taken in my misfortune. It is very gratifying to me to 
 find that, however negligent of the means by which favour is 
 usually conciliated, I have still a few friends, and those of the 
 best. 
 
 Mr. Bastard and his confidential friends have repeatedly as- 
 sured me, that he owed his last election to me. Ebrington and 
 Acland had both canvassed the county over and over again, 
 whilst Bastard had not asked a single vote. I saw that there 
 was a vulnerable point in the yeomanry body, which had not 
 been stirred in the two former contests, out of delicacy to Sir 
 T. The yeomanry retain a strong prejudice against the Roman 
 Catholics. I took the opportunity of the County Meeting to 
 address the King on his accession, to distribute a handbill, 
 which stung young Clifford to commit himself ; and, the cat 
 once out of the bag, I resisted menaces, and laughed at promises, 
 from Lords and Ladies, who would have silenced me. I filled 
 the county with handbills, songs, and caricatures, at my own 
 risk. This shook the canvassing books of the Lord and the 
 Baronet (but I knew tlie latter was safe at his full tide of po- 
 pularity :) the Anti- Catholics came over in crowds. " Never," 
 said Sir John Rogers to me, at the close of the poll, "never 
 was there such a glorious scramble. By G , Flindell, you 
 have won us the election." Now, my dear Sir, the enemy is 
 taking time by the forelock : two new newspapers are an 
 nounced to start in Exeter before Christmas both Radical. 
 Tucker will continue to edit the Alfred : one of the new ones 
 will be edited by N. and the other by Mr. J. who has been fi- 
 guring at our County Meetings of tale, in favour of the Ca- 
 tholics and Reform. And, from what I have experienced of 
 Radical opposition in Cornwall and Devon (for it is every 
 where the same thing,) I have a comfortable prospect before 
 me. 
 
 The kind offer of your " Recollections, &c." I would accept 
 very thankfully ; for your terms are liberal on the whole,
 
 MEMOIRS OF WHITAKBR. 65 
 
 and so there is in the oratory of Cicero. 
 
 though there are some objectionable points. Three years! 
 Are not the chances in favour of one or both of us being trans- 
 ferred to another world by that time? I remember our re- 
 vered friend Mr. WHITAKER telling me once, when I had the 
 honour to sit at his table, that he had still two great works in 
 reserve a Commentary on Shakspeare, and a Commentary on 
 the Bible, the latter to be his last work. I ventured to hint at 
 the uncertainty of life, and whether it might not therefore be 
 better, as the Bible was of the greatest importance, to set about 
 that first. " No, (said the venerable man) Shakspeare is the 
 " greatest of mortal writers, and I shall climb up from him to 
 " the divine." 
 
 But are you aware, Sir, that there is a life of W. already on 
 the carpet ? About ten weeks ago, I was honoured with a visit 
 in this strong hold of justice, by the Rev. Dr. Smith, Rector 
 of St. P. Manchester. He is the master of the Grammar School 
 of that town, at which Mr. W. was initiated, and had come to 
 Exeter to see the tomb of a Bishop in our Cathedral, who was the 
 founder of that school, of which the Rev. gentleman told me he 
 was writing thehistory. He said that the life of Whitaker would 
 make a prominent feature of the work, as he was the most distin- 
 guished man bred at the school ; and, having heard that Mr. W. 
 had condescended to know me, he was come to beg I would 
 give him any anecdotes I might know of him. I was glad of 
 the opportunity of relating every thing I knew that was ho- 
 nourable to a man whom I shall ever hold in grateful remem- 
 brance, as one from whom I had learnt to do my duty to God 
 and my King, at all hazards, letting the consequences to take 
 care of themselves. That you know, Sir, was his bold doc- 
 trine. 
 
 As it did not appear to me that Dr. Smith knew Mrs. Whi- 
 taker or her excellent daughters, 1 will relate to you a little 
 matter told me by that gentleman, which may be interesting in 
 Truro. Mr. Whitaker had a brother in Manchester (an attor- 
 ney, 1 believe ;) and an unfortunate misunderstanding long 
 subsisted between them. "That brother," said Dr. S., "1 
 was intimately acquainted with: / attended him in his last 
 hours. Their quarrel was simply a misunderstanding, height- 
 ened and too long confirmed by the warmth of minds at the 
 bottom both honest and affectionate, and ray friend died in cha- 
 rity with his excellent brother." 
 
 Whitaker was very attentive to the gradations of rank in 
 society. With Flindell, for instance, he never conversed 
 but as his patron. One day delighted with a highly seasoned 
 paragraph in Flindull's paper, W. sent him a guinea. Fl indell 
 would have spurned at the present from almost any otber man ;
 
 66 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES. 
 
 In Criticism* ( where writing anonymously he would 
 probably have written with the less restraint) we find 
 him candid and good-natured; not sparing of censure, 
 yet often lavish of applause ; and affording us in numer- 
 ous instances the most agreeable proofs of genuine be- 
 but he pocketed the affront. Flmdell's loyalty was not always 
 so rewarded. Refusing admission to a letter in vindication of 
 a republican, from "a man of high consequence," he received 
 this note from " His Highness." " Thou pander of corrup- 
 " tion ! Thou tool of the Vicar of Manaccan !" 
 
 * From the Cornwall and Devonshire Poems to which our 
 friend was a contributor (pressed however into the service by 
 the Editor,) these extracts will not be thought contemptible : 
 
 " To thee, bright daughter of the Eternal Mind, 
 To thee, bright Empress of the angelick kind, 
 
 I raise the raptur'd strain : 
 When first creation wak'd her plastic powers, 
 And rising angels wing'd the etherial bowers, 
 Soft-smiling VIRTUE rose, congenial with the train. 
 
 Low at thy throne, fair Deity, 
 
 Flushed as thou art with every grace that warms, 
 The Seraph's fire-clad pomp, the Cherub's milder charms, 
 
 Each blissful brother of the sky 
 
 In never-ceasing homage bows, 
 
 In never-ending numbers glows : 
 
 While o'er the Heaven's immortal bounds 
 The rose-lip'd partner of thy regal sway, 
 
 PLEASURE, thy twin-born sister, rounds 
 The laughing moments of eternal day. 
 
 And when the LOGOS, bent on Nature's birth, 
 Look'd wild Confusion from her old domain, 
 And bad Perfection spread the smiling earth ; 
 Goddess ! with joy you saw your growing reign : 
 
 With joy you mark'd this orb to rise, 
 
 The future seed-plot of the skies ; 
 While strong Devotion kindled o'er your mind, 
 
 With joy you hail'd the genial hours, 
 Big with the deed eternally design'd, 
 And wak'd with warblings of the heavenly powers : 
 
 Then Man up-rear'd his form sublime, 
 The cause, the crown, the center of the whole ; 
 
 Proportion liv'd in every limb, 
 And GOD'S high image stamp'd his never-dying soul.
 
 MEMOIRS OF WHITAKER. 67 
 
 nevolence. Even ia the instance of Gibbon, where he 
 has been thought severe beyond all former example, 
 we have a large mixture of the sweet with the bitter. 
 
 Though beauty brightens in yon evening beam, 
 That gilds all nature with a lively gleam ; 
 Though beauty dances on the sparkling rill, 
 That steals sweet- wandering round yon eastern hill ; 
 
 Though beauty cloaths the velvet lawn below, 
 And bids yon fleecy clouds with golden edgings glow : 
 Though music warbles from that night bird's spray, 
 Swells the wild trill, and soothes the dying lay : 
 Though fragrance wantons o'er this opening flower, 
 This whitening hawthorn, or this woodbine bower ; 
 
 Or rides on every balmly gale 
 That sweeps the blowing beans in yonder vale : 
 In vain to VICE the radiant landscape glows, 
 The night-bird warbles, or the woodbine blows. 
 
 For thee, for thee alone, 
 
 Blest parent of each joy 
 
 That to the heart is known, 
 Eve spreads her scenes in faery majesty. 
 
 For thee, for thee, Night's planet mounts the skies, 
 And gives a softer glory to our eyes ; 
 Where, with a robe of silver splendour bound, 
 A shadowy radiance sits on Nature's smiling round. 
 
 Nor less for thee the brighter Morning spreads 
 The lustre of her dewy meads : 
 For thee she wakes each modest grace, 
 That crimsons on her maiden face ; 
 For thee, her warbler tempts the aerial way, 
 Rides on the dawning clouds, and pours his living lay. 
 
 See ! Melancholy, love-lorn maid, 
 Nymph of the streaming tears and bursting sighs, 
 That bids the visionary sorrows rise, 
 
 And hovering haunt her shade, 
 
 Starts at thy wakening power, 
 Nor more with folded arms and clouded brow, 
 Laid at the foot of some o'er-hanging tower, 
 Listens the widow'd turtle's tuneful woe !" 
 
 My late lamented friend Sir Hardinge GifTard had written some 
 verse at my request for a third volume of the " Cornwall and 
 Devon Poems" which was onee in contemplation. And Lady 
 Giffard has found among his papers two little pieces intended
 
 68 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES. 
 
 It was his critique * on Gibbon which principally contri- 
 buted to the reputation of the English Review ; in 
 which Whitaker was the author of many valuable 
 articles. 
 
 To his pen also, the British Critic and the Anti- 
 Jacobin Review were indebted for various pieces of ela- 
 borate criticism.! 
 
 But the strength of his principles is no where more 
 evident than in those articles in which he comes for- 
 ward armed with the panoply of Truth, in defence of 
 our civil and ecclesiastical constitution. 
 
 SECTION IV. 
 
 From 1777, when Mr. W. made his entry into 
 Cornwall, to take possession of hisLiving,| to within a 
 
 for me, " a ballad of Courtenay and Carew," and " Giffard's 
 Leap." which would do honour to any collection of poetry. 
 
 * Whitaker's Review of Gibbon's History (vols.lV. V. VI.) 
 originally appeared in the English Review. It was published 
 separately by Murray in 1791 8vo. 
 
 "He certainly detects errors and exposes inconsistencies, 
 but a writer of his cast of mind was not likely to form an im- 
 partial estimate of Gibbon's real merits." NAPIER. 
 
 t " Of the British Critic" says Archdeacon Nares in a letter 
 to me" he was the regular coadjutor in antiquarian and other 
 lore, from the beginning of 1797 to the very end of 1801 ; 
 when a refusal to admit his opinions on the subject of Ossian, 
 caused a separation between us, though by no means any irrita- 
 tion or quarrel. I saw him in his last visit to London with 
 great satisfaction and increase of regard." 
 
 % In this, his only preferment, patronage had no share. 
 Many years before, he had declined the acceptance of a living, 
 for the reasons which I have already stated. Alluding to this 
 circumstance, I have been accused of having thrown out 
 hac incondita 
 Studio jactabat, inani ! 
 
 TO WHITAKER. 
 
 What tho* the splendor of thy genius draws 
 From Europe's letter'd sons the acclaim of praise ; 
 Yet, with new energy to nerve my lays,
 
 MEMOIRS OF WHITAKER. 09 
 
 year or two of his decease in 1808, we cannot but ob- 
 serve (and 1 should think, admire) his unintermitting 
 activity ; whether his exertions were clerical, or liter- 
 ary or domestic. 
 
 Hitherto we have viewed him chiefly as a clergyman 
 and as an author : we looked but superficially on the 
 pater-familias. Curiosity, or a worthier motive will 
 now lead us to the bower, where he wished to " quaff" 
 ("mild" as he could) the " October of a private life."* 
 
 In possession of " a Living," he had, in course, to go 
 in search of " a wife. 1 ' And the pursuits of the lover 
 were equally ardent with those of the Antiquary. 
 
 How to set off his person- to the best advantage, 
 was, I suppose, his primary consideration. His per- 
 son he had never neglected ; as, seeing him almost 
 absorbed in literature, we might be apt to conceive. 
 And preparing for a matrimonial expedition, he was 
 more than usually attentive, I trow, to the arts of *' ti- 
 tivalion." Hard-featured, with a dark complexion and 
 with light-coloured eyes (rather greenish) in repose ; 
 but sparkling when kindled up in conversation, or flash- 
 ing fire when the subject was of an impassioned nature, 
 or melting in tenderness when " the tale was of sorrow" 
 he had a strong muscular frame of body, that well 
 answered to his powerful mind. That he had an eye 
 of glass and teeth of ebony, was the common report. 
 I can vouch for a squint at least in one eye ; and I am 
 sure he used false teeth, " upon occasions" as we say. 
 When attiring himself for company, he would take 
 
 I gaze not on those gifts that gain applause. 
 No I survey thee steady in the cause 
 Of thy religion, in these faithless days ! 
 I venerate that strong unshaken mind 
 
 Which for the Saviour-God, the atoning cross, 
 Such patronage as lures the weak, resign M ; 
 
 Counting the treasures of the world as dross ! 
 
 I love that soul which no mean cares engross, 
 Which melts in sympathy for human kind ! 
 
 O may I never live to mourn thy loss, 
 But by thy soothing aid thro' life's dark valley wind. 
 * " The mild October of a private life." T. WARTON.
 
 70 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES. 
 
 from a little case (which he was not shy in shewing to 
 his friends) a sett of dusky teeth which he called ebony. 
 To a young lady, who asked him, why he preferred 
 ebony to ivory, he once jocularly said : " ivory would 
 ill suit the gravity of an antiquary !" 
 
 But, be this as it may. With every adventitious or 
 artificial aid to which lie could decently resort, he 
 bowed a humble suitor, (I am told within a month) to 
 " fifty fair maids" (among whom was Sukey Luke) 
 but u breathed his bosom-sighs in vain ;" till making 
 St. Columb in his voyage of courtship, he was pre- 
 sented to Miss Tregenna, a lady of an ancient Cornish 
 family ; who shewed her good sense and discernment in 
 admitting his addresses without the struggle of doubt or 
 the coyness of affectation : nor could our friend have 
 chosen a helpmate more felicitously adapted to his dis- 
 position and situation. Had Mrs* W. been one of the 
 " Blue-stocking" sisterhood, she might have been a 
 rival to her lord : and he, of all lords, would least have 
 borne a rival. She ranked with a description of-females 
 far more useful and estimable amidst other wise and 
 thrifty dames with Solomon's good housewife. To her 
 husband's high intellect, she looked up with reverence. 
 Yet, conscious of her mother's~wit, she assumed to her- 
 self the full regulation of her household, and even the 
 care of an extensive glebe ; on which her husband used, 
 at the periods of hay and corn harvest and the hop ga- 
 thering, to mix with his people in their work, even as 
 a day -labourer among his fellows. In short, to his 
 wife's prudential management he owed his prosperity. 
 From pecuniary embarrassments he was relieved by her 
 economy : and the recovery of a considerable property 
 at Manchester, which was in great jeopardy, is attribu- 
 table to her sagacity and exertion. Jn short she was 
 an excellent domestic character : and it was not the 
 least of her qualifications 
 
 " tho' she could boast no charms divine, 
 
 That she could carve, and make birch wine."
 
 MEMOIRS OF WHITAKKR. 71 
 
 It may be deemed flattery, but I speak honestly in say- 
 ing, that Mr. W. had three daughters who seemed, as 
 far as I could judge, to unite in themselves the talents 
 and good qualities of the father and the mother. 
 
 The Letters that follow, will notice them frequently 
 will recur to the one, I believe, who her father's ama- 
 nuensis, was proud in assisting him in his theology and 
 his antiquarianism ; and to another, over whose sickness 
 he sorrowed bitterly, and whose death he lamented with 
 all the feelings of a fond tho' not disconsolate parent. 
 Of the two surviving daughters one was married to Dr. 
 Taunton, of Truro ; who may be ranked with the most 
 skilful and approved physicians of the West of England, 
 and who is unquestionably a first-rate man in various 
 Science and Literature. The other daughter remains 
 unmarried. 
 
 From his miscellaneous correspondence throughout 
 this period, describing the progress and completion of 
 the several works of which 1 have given specimens, and 
 referring us to numerous incidents in public and private 
 life, 1 have made selections which, if 1 am not mistaken, 
 will be judged superior to the Letters of Gray, by all 
 who prefer energy and pathos to florid description and 
 cold phlegmatic expression. 
 
 LETTER I. 
 MR. WHITAKER, to J. W. 
 
 Riian-Lanyhornc, 1/85. 
 MY DEAR SIR, 
 
 You will see here the rhapsody I promised to 
 send you on my approach to ** that ancient river, the 
 river" Tamar. 
 
 "Y OUT'S in haste, 
 
 J. W.
 
 72 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES. 
 
 LINES 
 
 On entering CORNWALL token the Author went to take 
 possession of his Living in 1777. 
 
 -Hail, TAMAR, hail ! 
 
 And thou, sequestered corner of our isle, 
 
 " Receive a new possessor, one who brings 
 
 " A mind not to be changed"* by thy remoteness, 
 
 From all that Learning in her London mart, 
 
 Holds up attractive to the studious eye, 
 
 'Or all that nature urges to the heart, 
 
 From early love from kindred charities ! 
 
 O take me quick to thy adopting arms, 
 
 And be a better mother than my own.f 
 
 I come, dread Genius of this distant land, 
 Soured by no ills,:}: by no false hopes misled ; 
 But beckoned by the hand of Providence ; 
 And taught by mild experience and by Grace, 
 E'en in the full meridian of my days, 
 To know the only scope 'and end of life, 
 And seek its only solid happiness ; 
 In this lone nook, as in the capital, 
 To mix in gay good-humour with mankind, 
 But still superior to the modes of earth, 
 Live to myself alone, and careful court 
 Th' ennobling friendship of THE FRIEND OF ALL. 
 
 Thus that softbliss, which "goodness bosoms ever," 
 And Goodness only can, shall still be mine; 
 Breathe a new warmth o'er every Cornish sky, 
 Throw a new grace o'er every Cornish scene, 
 Beam in my breast, and radiate in my eyes. 
 And when the hour, " that general horrour sheds" 
 " O'er the low level of th' inglorious throng," || 
 Shall come to me ; I then may firmly trust, 
 Here on the sea-beat bounds o'f LANYHORNE, 
 To greet its coming, thank its near approach, 
 Burst from the bonds of Nature and of Sin, 
 And spring into the bosom of my GOD. 
 
 * Milton. 
 
 t Than his native county had been. 
 
 % To retreat from the world. 
 
 Milton. 
 
 1| Younj.
 
 MEMOIRS OF WHITAKER. 73 
 
 LETTER II. 
 
 J. WHITAKER to T. CLUTTERBUCK, Esq. 
 
 Ruan-Lanyhorne, 
 a Quarter past three, Wednesday afternoon, 
 
 Aug. 2, 1786. 
 DEAR SIR, 
 
 I return you enclosed the list of the special jury. I have 
 already struck oat the names of twelve, and I send Roger 
 over with it immediately, that you may return it by this 
 night's post. That you should do this, seems of considera- 
 ble importance to me, because I would have you direct the 
 trial for the road to be entered directly. Mr. Luke is schem- 
 ing to bring on his action for the road and for the assault to- 
 gether, but this intention will be defeated by bringing on our 
 trial for the road first. And I beg you will just write a line 
 by this night's post, to direct our trial to he entered instant- 
 ly ; remaining, in great haste, dear Sir, Yours, J. W.* 
 
 " Mr. Canon Grant succeeded Mr. John Dell in the Rec- 
 tory of Ruan Lanyhorne, in 1715. Mr. Grant, in 1745, was 
 succeeded by Francis Henchman, B. D., as Henchman was, in 
 1777, by John Whitaker, B.D., both of them Fellows and No- 
 minees of C. C. C., Oxford. Canon Grant was a man of sense 
 and spirit, and proved a great benefactor to this living. He 
 improved the parsonage-house considerably. One instance of 
 his conduct in the management of his tithes, which is still pre- 
 served by tradition, deserves to be recorded in writing. He 
 invited his parishioners to his house, in order to ascertain their 
 compositions, when he put into their hands a little paper con- 
 taining the rate at which he meant them to pay, and said he 
 would walk into his garden for halfan hour, that they might 
 deliberate upon it. This demand was a composition of two- 
 sixths in the pound, I believe. In half an hour he returned, 
 and found his parishioners with one voice refusing his terms. 
 He coolly took up his paper, delivered to them another, and 
 walked out for half an hour again. This paper, I believe, 
 conlained two-ninths. On his return, he found some wise 
 enough to accept these terms, though they had rejected easier, 
 merely because they were apprehensive of still worse if they 
 refused these. But the greater part of them refused both. Mr. 
 G., therefore, took up the second paper, said those who bad 
 acceded to the terms of it should have them, and for the rest he 
 had another paper. And he obliged the rest to pay one-third, 
 though they had refused two-sixths." From Whitaker's MS. 
 Tonkin, Vol. II. p. 78. 
 
 * It is melancholy to consider, that Whitaker was now en- 
 o
 
 74 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES. 
 
 LETTER III. 
 
 The SAME to the SAME. 
 
 Wednesday afternoon. 
 
 DEAR SIR, 
 
 1 send you, as I promised, some more instructions 
 for the Assizes. 1 could have sent you all, as I have at last 
 completed them ; but 1 have detained the two last sheets of 
 instructions for Mr. Luke's action of assault against me and 
 Anne Peters. I want to shew the questions intended to be 
 asked to the witness of whom they will be asked. By read- 
 ing them over to him carefully, some notions may be revived 
 in his memory, and he may speak to some main points more 
 decisively. The collateral circumstances often help out the 
 main facts, 
 
 The instructions for Mr. Luke's action are very large. 
 They are made, so, in a great measure, by the cross-examina- 
 tions, and by drawing into the questions so many particulars. 
 But this seems to me to be quite necessary. The counsel can 
 have no notion of the many little points that are requisite to 
 be dwelt upon in a cause like this, and that appear so to a 
 man actually engaged in the quarrel ; and it is better to 
 overdo than underdo in questions. 
 
 But, after all, I cannot think Mr. Lnlte is such an ideot as 
 to try either of these actions for assault. His conduct is so 
 plainly malicious and cowardly in both, that he must be an 
 ideot indeed to have a tithe of his conduct exposed. But 
 what is the latest day for giving notice of trial ? I thought 
 the time was three weeks oefore the Assizes; your clerk 
 thinks it is eight days: and what is the real time ? 
 
 Mr. Luke, as far *as I can hear, is making no preparation 
 for trial at all. He is examining no witnesses, and Mr. H. 
 lias never been yet to view the road. 
 
 What have you done about the ./Von Pros? If Mr. Luke 
 did not file a declaration against Mrs. \V. and Mary Benny, 
 
 tering on the arena of a contest with his parishioners ; a con- 
 test which was, doubtless, unavoidable. Of all his prosecu- 
 tions he was himself the conductor : his attorney was, in a 
 manner, his clerk. The following are selected from a bundle 
 of sixty or seventy letters, all written with breathless anxiety. 
 They are addressed to Mr. Clutterbuck, his attorney, of T/uro, 
 a gentleman of sense and honour, and high classical attain- 
 ments. Mr. C. would have gladly corresponded with his friend 
 Whitftker on any other than professional subjects.
 
 MEMOIRS OF WII1TAKER. 75 
 
 before the last day of last term, as I understood from you, 
 you might have a Non Pros, against him, and so make him 
 pay a few shillings to us. 
 
 I write by the bearer to Mr. Mitchell, and desire him to 
 eome over hither on Friday or Monday, and plan the road 
 with its accompaniments ; and on Thursday I mean to come 
 orer to Truro myself, and bring the rest of the instructions 
 for Mr. Luke's action. I shall then send for a young fellow 
 in Truro, who was present at the second skirmish, and see 
 whether his testimony will be of any moment. And I beg 
 to hear by the bearer," if you do not think that the evidence 
 for the road, as sent you last week, very strong and power- 
 ful. 
 
 But I wish one argument and one address to be suggested 
 in the brief concerning it. Mr. Luke's witnesses can be but 
 negative ; he therefore fights to great disadvantage. He can 
 only prove that persons have gone through and not been 
 stopped ; but fifty such witnesses cannot stand against one 
 positive witness of people asking leave, or of people being 
 stopped. And this may be strikingly exemplified by a fact. 
 
 In towns it is not very uncommon for ways through en- 
 tries or courts to be open, and for people to pass through 
 them without asking leave, on every day in the year except 
 one. Upon one day the passage is shut up, in order to assert 
 the private nature of it ; and this does assert it. Here, there- 
 fore, is the testimony of 364 days superseded by the evidence 
 of one; because that is negative evidence, and this is positive. 
 
 The address which I mentioned is to the jury, farmers, &c. 
 upon the loss that would ensue to them, in having their farm- 
 yards made into public roads, their poultry-courts to be run 
 over with carts and horses, their gates left open for strange 
 pigs and other animals to come and trespass upon them, and 
 at last, perhaps, their very right to straw their farm-yards 
 contested and denied. 
 
 Since I wrote the above, I find that Mr. Luke's hind, 
 Francis Dungay, has been saying on Sunday and Monday, in 
 the neighbourhood of St. Columb, that Mr. Luke has given 
 up the action for the assault, and that / have given up Mary 
 Benny's. This comes from such a man as must know his 
 master's mind ; and it comes to me by Mary Benny herself, 
 who has been equally in the neighhourhood of St. Columb, 
 and is just returned. I have, therefore, kept back all the in- 
 structions for the assaults, and 1 hope to hear from you that 
 this is true. If I do not, I shall bring them all with me on 
 Thursday next. 
 
 I remain, dear Sir, your most obedient servant, J. W.
 
 76 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES. 
 
 C'\ 
 
 The distance from home to Bodmln is about 17 miles to many, 
 and about 22 to some, or about 2J generally. The witnesses 
 in all the causes reached Bodmin about six on Monday even- 
 ing. The action for the road was heard by three on Tuesday 
 afternoon, and all the witnesses on that point might then have 
 gone home. Some of Mr. Luke's, R. Stephens and C. Wil- 
 liams, and all of Mr. Whitaker's actually did. 
 
 Mr. Luke's, action for the assault was tried about nine on 
 Tuesday night*. 
 
 Mary Benny's action for the assault was tried about eleven 
 on Tuesday night. 
 
 I, John Whitaker, Bachelor of Divinity, and Rector of Ruan 
 Lanyhorne, Cornwall, do depose, &c. that my maid-servant, 
 Mary Benny, having been ill used by John Luke, Esq. I did 
 furnish her with money and credit for bringing an action against 
 the said John Luke. That she having subpaenad myself, Mrs, 
 Jane Whitaker my wife, Anne Peters one of my maid-servants, 
 and Richard Philips a carpenter employed by me, to appear at 
 Bodmin as her witnesses, I did hire a double horse for carrying 
 the said Richard Philips and Anne Peters to the said town of 
 Bodmin, at the rate of 2s. (id. the first day, 2s. 6d. the last day, 
 and Is. the intermediate day or days, and did supply them with 
 money for their expences to and from and at Bodmin. That I 
 myself and Mrs. Jane Whitaker did also go to the said town of 
 Bodmin, attended (as usual) by one man-servant, upon my own 
 horses. That we all reached Bodmin on Monday evening, and 
 the said cause was not decided tiH about eleven o'clock on 
 Tuesday night. That I paid for the said double horse, being 
 out three days, six shillings. That the said Anne Peters and 
 Richard Philips cost me at least fifteen shillings each in these 
 three days. That for my own horse and Mrs. Whitaker's, I 
 think I may justly charge eight shillings, &c. &c. &c. 
 
 LETTER IV. 
 Mr. WHITAKER to R. P. 
 
 ill ,vWHt urts /.sf nt >''. i... ,C!'i:?" "/ul,v v -Tli 
 
 DEAR SIR, 
 
 I have a thousand apologies to make you for not attending 
 to your two favours before the present moment. But circum- 
 stances I trust will absolve me completely with you. When your 
 n'rst favour reached my hands, I was in the ruidst of my bar- 
 
 T!iis action was tried by a epecialjury ;but the Judge declared in Court, 
 that Mr. Luke should pay for the jury, as he, tte judge, would not certify 
 it was requisite.
 
 77 
 
 vest, pushing* on in instant expectation of my brother and liis 
 family, on a long visit to me from Manchester. When yur 
 second came they were actually with me. I was then so fully 
 engaged with them, after a separation of 10 or 1 1 years from 
 them ; and my friends around me came in so polite'ly to wel- 
 come them into the neighbournood ; that I was not able to 
 command a moment's leisure for any thing important. I was 
 therefore constrained to defer all reply to Doth, to the depar- 
 ture of my friends and the moments of my returning: stu- 
 diousness. These did not return with their departure. The 
 spirit of dissipation, which this whirl of visits had raised, 
 was not soon allayed. I fancied, indeed, that your letters 
 would require a deeper consideration than I now believe to 
 be requisite. I, therefore, still deferred what I wished to 
 consider fully. And at last I sit down to the work, resolved 
 to confine myself strictly to your questions, and seeing little 
 difficulty in giving you my replies to them. 
 
 To your Prospectus I know not what to say. I cannot 
 pretend to judge of your plan so comprehensively as either 
 to applaud or to condemn in the whole, to approve or to cor- 
 rect in. part. And I can only say, that in the historical parts 
 of it (for with the physical 1 have no acquaintance,) if you 
 can point out any special points on which you think I can 
 assist you, you may command me to the fullest latitude. 
 
 You accordingly point out some in your second letter. 
 And 1 now address myself to the work of answering it, hoping 
 I may be able, not to compromise the difference between Sir 
 (ir. Yonge and you, in the idle way of the world's half-rea- 
 soners, who think nothing more requisite in such a case than, 
 to take the middle point betwixt two opposite opinions, but 
 to decide it effectually. My own opinion is a decided one ; 
 and which way it decidedly goes, will soon appear. 
 
 When the Phoenicians traded here, who were the inhabit- 
 ants ? I answer, the Belg*, who came hither from Gaul 
 about 350 years before Christ; and the Aborigines,who came 
 hither from the same country about 1,000 years before Christ. 
 As to the Saxon Chronicle and Bede, they are wholly incom- 
 petent to decide upon the point. They know nothing of those 
 eurly times but wnat the Romans and Greeks transmitted to 
 them. To these, therefore, we must appeal. Caesar is our 
 earliest author, and is himself also our best. "Britannia? 
 " pars interior ab iis incolitur, quos natos in insula ipsa me- 
 " moria prpditum dicunt ; maritima pars ab iis, qui, praed<e 
 " ac b^lli intulendi causa, ex Belgis transierant, et hello 
 " illato ibi remanserunt, atque agros colcre cwperunt," These
 
 78 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES. 
 
 lines form the grand distinction of our island fathers. When 
 the Belgae andlhe aborigines came successively, Caesar does 
 not inform us. He only says in another place, " Plurosque 
 " Belgas" of Gaul " esse ortos a Germanis, Khenumque an- 
 " (iquitus transductos, propter loci fertilitatem ibi conse- 
 " disse, Gallosque quiea loca incolerent expulisse." This 
 incident is evidently too nearly connected with that above, to 
 leave any doubt upon our minds ; but it was nearly cotem- 
 porary with it. The Belgse of Germany invaded Gaul, seized 
 all the north-east of it to the Marne and the Seine, [Caesar, 
 " Gallos a Belgis Matrona et Sequana dividit,"] and then 
 progressively passed over into Britain. As posteriour colo- 
 nists, they inhabited the line of the coast ; having dislodged 
 the prior colony from it, and confined them to the interiour* 
 of the island. And when either of these colonies came hither 
 is pointed out to us very happily, and with a full con- 
 formity to collateral history, by that little commentary of 
 Richard of Cirencester in the llth century, which had been 
 strangely smuggled out of Britain into Denmark and which 
 returned back to its native country about 30 years ago. 
 " A.M. MAIM, circa haec tempora cultum et habitatum pri- 
 " mum Brittanniam arbitrantur nonnulli ;" where we observe 
 his actual reference to some ancient author or authors, and 
 their dubiousness concerning the precise year of so remote an 
 event. But concerning the second colony, as coming in a 
 period much nearer to the line of Roman history, he speaks 
 from his authors thus positively: " A.M. MMMDCL. has 
 " terras intrarunt Belgze." 
 
 Having thus settled the points by historical documents, I 
 come now to consider your moral probabilities. 
 
 If the Britons came in the course of progressive migra- 
 tions from east to west, from Asia into Europe, and from 
 Gaul into Britain ; you think they would have lost the cha- 
 racter of their original country in the long interval of succes- 
 sive movements ; and yet they did not, you apprehend ; as 
 their religion, dress, and language bore a very near resem- 
 blance to those of the Asiaticks. I know of no such 
 resemblance. There is only a resemblance that was sure to 
 arise where the origin was common, and that exists between 
 all the nations of the globe, in consequence of their common 
 origin " qualera decet esse sororum." The most striking 
 part of this resemblance between the Asiaticks and the Britons, 
 is the use of military cars. Yet the use was equally common 
 to the Egyptians, to the Gauls, and to the Britons. And, 
 in these arguments from resemblance, we deceive ourselves
 
 MEMOIRS OF WHITAKBR. 79 
 
 (I think) by taking general similarities for particular, by 
 considering human characters (if I may so express myself) 
 as national characteristics, and by so proving an origin to be 
 analogically true which is historically false. 
 
 " 1 he Druids," you sav however, " in many particulars 
 " resembled the Magi." That is, they both pretended to 
 niagick. And so did the priests of Vitziliputzli, 1 believe, 
 &c. Stc. " Our Druids," you add, "according to Csesar, 
 " were senior to the Druids of Gaul ; and the latter used to 
 " consult the former on important occasions." Caesar says 
 only, " Existimatur reperta." This was plainly derived 
 only from the succeeding fact: " Et nunc, qui diligentius 
 " earn rem cognoscere volunt, plerumque illo discendi causa. 
 " profisciscuntur." This is always the case in islands, as op- 
 posed to continents. Secluded from innovations, they retain 
 their primitive principles more firmly. Mona was to Britain 
 what Britain was to Gaul the repository of their original 
 theology. And then, those who- lad no light of liistory to 
 lead them, began to conclude what was- accidentally the repo- 
 sitory, was originally the fountain of It. 
 
 When mankind dispersed from the plains of Shinar, they 
 marched along the fafe of the large continent of Asia by 
 movements gradual and progressive. Nothing was done 
 " par saltunu" In their migrations towards the west, they 
 would find themselves at length obstructed in their advance, 
 by those waters that divide this continental isle of Europe 
 from Asia and Africa. This, would eheck the forward steps 
 of civilization; and Egypt, by means of that little junction 
 of land which connects the continental isle of Africa, was 
 probably peopled before any part of Europe. Navigation 
 at first must have consisted solely in occasional exertions for 
 crossing small arms of the sea. A voyage from Asia to Bri- 
 tain, even so low down as the voyages of the Phenicians, 
 would have been a most miraculous effort of the human 
 mind : it would have been as unnatural as miraculous. The 
 land was all before them, where to choose 
 
 " Their place of rest, and Providence their gttide." 
 
 Why then should they attempt long voyages, to go they 
 knew not whither, ana to seek unfruitful regions near the 
 pole, when they had all the soft climes of Asia, &c. before 
 tliem, equally uninhabited, and directly inviting them ? Nor 
 could they, if they would, have taken such voyages. The 
 Phaenician voyages are no proof to the contrary. They were 
 in a much later age, whatever Richard has said" (p. 50,) who
 
 80 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES. 
 
 makes the " Grseci Phoenicesque mcrcatores" to have come 
 hither about the original plantation of the island ; as the 
 Phoenicians came hither only a little before Herodotus ; he 
 mentioning the Cassiterides and their tin, but not knowing 
 where those folands lay ; and as the Graecians came long 
 afterwards. But we deceive ourselves on these points, by 
 using the words Groecians and Phoenicians at large. The 
 men who came trading to our Cassiterides were not proper 
 Phoenicians or proper Greeks : they did not come from Tyre 
 and the Morca. The Greeks were the Phoenicians of Mar- 
 settles, and the Pheenicians were the Tyrians of Carthage 
 settled at Cadiz. And, thus considered asCadiziansandMar- 
 seillois; these bold voyagers can lend not a shadow of a pre- 
 text to a voyage from Asia to Britain ; much less of a 
 colonial voyage. 
 
 But let me farther observe, concerning these voyages. It 
 is a common opinion, which I see you have adopted, that 
 those mis-called Phoenicians came to the south-western parts 
 of this very island Britain. They came only to the Caaai- 
 terides, to islands, which Strabo shews us were ten in number. 
 And the idea that Cornwall, and perhaps Devonshire, were 
 considered as islands, is all a dream of romantick antiqua- 
 rianism. AVhen Devonshire and Cornwall were so well 
 known to the Romans as Kent or Somersetshire, they still 
 distinguished the little islands of the Cassiterides from the 
 great isle of Britain. 
 
 As to " the southern" being " the first inhabited part of all 
 " the island," I cannot conceive whence you derived the idea. 
 On your own Stukeleian and Irish plan of a voyage of the 
 first inhabitants from Asia to Britain, the Cassiterides would 
 be the first. Then, as they either entered St. George's or 
 the British Channel, Cornwall would certainly be the next, and 
 either the north or the south of Devon would be the third. 
 This is said on the supposition they pursued that progressive 
 motion which you reject in the first instance. If they did 
 net pursue it, ihen Ireland or the Scuthains, the Isle of Wight 
 or Lundy, Cumberland or Kent, Cathness or the North Pole, 
 might be the next. When these Neptunes take such strides, 
 I would say with Longinus, the earth would hardly be suffi- 
 cient for a stride more. 
 
 As to etymons of local names, my dear Sir, remember they 
 must follow history. Etymology is a saucy gipsev. She is 
 merely a menial, and yet would act the mistress. But, pray, 
 keep her down. And Armington is only Arman-ton or 
 Arme's house, the ing or an so placed being only the mark? 
 of the possessive case.
 
 MEMOIRS OF WHITAKER.. 81 
 
 I have thus giren you my sentiments, dear. Sir, with great 
 frankness to you and a special regard for you. I consider 
 you as a man of parts brilliant and strong, spirited, enter- 
 prising, and laborious. You have therefore all the elements 
 of a great local historian in you- And I most heartily and 
 cordially wish you all imaginable success. 
 
 As you have never seen (I believe) a work which I for- 
 merly published on the history of the Britons, and against 
 Macpherson ; I have looked for a copy, and beg your ac- 
 ceptance of it. It will be more full than I can now be upon 
 this subject. And I shall send it, with your Prospectus in- 
 closed in it, to Mr. Buckland's, bookseller, in Truro, in 
 hopes he may transmit it soon to you for Exeter. This I 
 consider as a very trifling acknowlegment, for the compli- 
 ments which you nave paid me in your additional sonnet. 
 
 When you come into Cornwall, I beg I may see you here, 
 and I beseech you to bring Mrs. P. with you. I shall thus 
 see you with double pleasure. So will Mrs. W. You have 
 done so much honour to wedded lives, that we both honour 
 you and Mrs. P. for it. And I shall think myself very happy 
 if I can lend you any assistance in your present enterprise. 
 You are in a road as to the historical part of your enter- 
 prise, over which I have walked " with painful steps and 
 slow" very much formerly : even yet I have not done with 
 it. I mean, as soon as ever I have published the 2d edition 
 of Queen Mary, which is all ready for publication; and 
 finished what is nearly finished, an historical account of the 
 Origin of Arianism, which I mean to publish before Mid- 
 summer next ; and transcribed a large dissertation which I 
 have completed^ on the Course of Hannibal over the Alps ; 
 then to complete a military history of the Romans in Britain, 
 and to involve in it, of course, all the points of history here 
 noticed. 
 
 Your friend, 
 
 J.W. 
 R. Lany borne, JYov. 19, 1/89. 
 
 LETTER V. 
 Mr. W. to R. P. 
 
 DEAR SIB, Ruan Lanyhorne, May 29, 1790. 
 
 Your first step towards acquiring a knowledge of Roman 
 Britain, is to make yourself well acquainted with Richard.
 
 82 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES. 
 
 This alone will make you " wiser than the aged.'* And 1 
 assure you there is a mine of valuable ore in him. I found 
 the treasure, like the treasures of the ancient Gauls, all open 
 to every hand, yet all untouched. I seized the spoils with- 
 out delay and without sacrilege. And, on the strength of 
 them, I set up for myself. The title of the book Mlicardi 
 Corinensis Commentariolum," printed at Copenhagen in 1757, 
 together with Gildas and Nennius, and selling at times in 
 London for five or six shillings. I have been intending 
 these 14 years to reprint it. I wish you was nearer to me, 
 and I would lend it to you. 
 
 I have at length induced "my good neighbour," as you may 
 justly call him, Mr. Trist to apply his lively and brilliant 
 talents to something beyond the entertainment of an hour. 
 He has written a pamphlet, and has sent it to London. It \s 
 to be anonymous. And I am not at liberty to announce its 
 title. But you will be pleased when you know if. 
 
 I have lately been revising your version of the Hymn of 
 Orpheus. I had been struck with it, when I read it as poe- 
 try. Mr. Trist recalled it to my memory, \vhen I was read- 
 ing tbe original as theology. It is so fine, that you suppose 
 it derived from the Scriptures. But it is finer in ray opinion,, 
 in its own real condition, as not derived from the Scriptures, 
 which were then in an unknown language; but as derived 
 from that great source of religion to all mankind, without the 
 Patriarchal or Jewish pale, the first unwritten revelations. 
 
 The hymn all refers evidently, I think, to the great Redeem- 
 er who had been promised to all ages. But it is a glorious 
 proof of the Heathen belief in the Divinity of that Redeemer. I 
 shall publish a translation of it, but literal and in blank verse. 
 Yours will shine at my expence in splendour of poetry ; but 
 mine will beat yours in accuracy and fidelity. 
 
 Yours, &c. &c. J. W. 
 
 LETTER VI. 
 W. to R. P. 
 
 Aug. 19. 1790. 
 DEAR SIR, 
 
 I was exceedingly hurt at the receipt of your last favour, 
 to find you had been so near to me, and I had not seen you. 
 1 should hare been very glad to have talked over the sub-
 
 MEMOIRS OF WHITAKER. 83 
 
 ject of our letters, personally with you under this roof. And 
 I can only regret my loss, in your departare without it. But 
 I catch at the promise which you make me, though you say 
 not when, of coming with Mrs. P. to see us. And let me 
 hope it will not he long, before you come. 
 
 IVith regard to your noticed plan, of a collection of Fugi- 
 tive Poetry for Devonshire and Cornwall ; I am quite sur- 
 prized at your calling on the heavy Historian of Manchester, 
 for effusions of poetry. His taste lay, as his work shews, in 
 quite another hemisphere, and not a ray from the Muse's sun 
 ould penetrate to him, through the thick cloud of Historical 
 Disquisition, in which he had wrapped himself round. I 
 have however, a few morsels of poetry by me, composed by a 
 friend of his, and which I am at liberty to communicate. 
 1 hese I shall be ready to communicate if "lean find a moment 
 for the revisal of them, if I shall find any worthy of trans- 
 cription, and if I can procure time for transcribing. I shall, 
 be at liberty, I suppose, in a month more ; and you shall hear 
 then from me on the subject. 
 
 ^Mr. Thomas,* the Vicar of St. Merrin, near Padstow, was 
 with me a day or two after I received your letter, I therefore 
 communicated the plan of a collection to him. I considered 
 him as a very likely contributor. And I knew that, as such, 
 he would be a very useful one. He is an excellent poet. You 
 know well his Country Curate, I presume. It is a poem 
 full of spirit and sense. And he is a sound scholar, a lively 
 converser, and a man of elegant manners. I am very inti- 
 mate with him, and am using my influence to make him sit 
 down in studiousness. This alone is wanting to render him 
 a bright and substantial scholar. And he has promised me 
 to revise a poem which I had seen, and to throw it into the 
 Bath Treasury. But like me, I believe he wants leisure, 
 though from different causes ; I from over-much business, he 
 from overmuch company. He is now going or gone, I fear, 
 to meet the Marquis of Bath and Lord Weymouth in Here- 
 fordshire, on a shooting party, if he is, his poetry will 
 vanish with his shot, and he left -with the partridges in Here- 
 
 .-ii- * 
 
 fordshire. 
 
 I am much flattered by your and Dr. Dowranan's praises 
 of my remarks upon my old friend Gibbon in the English 
 Review. I originally intended to have put my name to the 
 concluding part of them. But a project which Lord Lans- 
 <lo\vne suggested to me, of re-publishing the remark* in a 
 
 * The late Archdeacon Thomas.
 
 84 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES. 
 
 pamphlet, prevented this. And I have never been a%1e 'to 
 find time' for revising, in order to execute the other. What I 
 received for the remarks from the proprietor of the Review, 
 was so nauch as induced me to think of purchasing a piece of 
 plate with it. I dwelt long enough upon the idea to deter- 
 mine upon a cup, and to meditate this inscription for it : 
 
 This vase I owe to GIBBON'S genius bold, 
 Extracted silver from his spurious gold. 
 
 And then I abandoned the project, and bought books with 
 the money. 
 
 This, "however, with the eighth volume of the Archaeolo- 
 gia, is all that everl reviewed. I have not leisure enough 
 from my own works to review the works of others. 1 re- 
 turned some months ago several volumes, that had been sent 
 me for reviewing. And I have now had two quartos by me 
 these eight or nine weeks, waiting for my perusal ; but 1 shall 
 not be able to look at them till 1 have sent off my Origin of 
 Arianism to the press. This will plead my excuse suffi- 
 ciently with you. for declining to review your Discourses, 
 and your English Orator, book 4th. I never yet reviewed 
 an.<r work but at the request of the proprietor. 
 
 .1 am very much obliged to you, however, for the present 
 of -your ORATOR and your Discourses. I had read both with 
 great pleasure. Only your Discourses appeared to me to 
 want what I should never expect to be wanting in a poet 
 a little more of the affectionate. Popular addresses should 
 always be directed at the close, to the most active part of us 
 all, our passions. 
 
 I shall be very glad to eee your Delineation of Roman and 
 British Monuments in Devonshire. I will then give you my 
 full sentiments upon them. 
 
 The Major Drewe whom you mention was of our College, 
 I apprehend, and the younger brother. 
 
 Dr. and Mrs. and Master William Cardew are coming here 
 on Monday, to spend, alas ! only three days with us. 
 
 On revising what I have said about the poetry, I add with- 
 out affectation, that you may depend upon receiving some 
 petty pieces of mine in four or five weeks. 
 
 Yours, &c. J. W. 
 
 !idJ ot -t.,ii;'i v.-n tmi 0/i:t{ tl lviir: mi(/i't.</ ^ i-.t 1 .V.T.-I!! 
 
 P. S. The following were the passages in your E. Orator, 
 which struck me most forcibly : 
 
 In those avenues that erst 
 
 O'er-arch'd a BAGOT (proud to embower such worth- 
 Such virtues in their venerable shade ;) 
 
 There, musing oft on future scenes, he form'd
 
 MEMOIRS OF WHITAKER. 85 
 
 The prospect of ideal good to flow 
 From his impassioned preaching. Nor unmark'd 
 His decent fane, nor unreview'd his charge ; 
 That not at distance from his natal spot. 
 Beyond the woody Tamar, fancy trac'd; 
 And, as she spread the glowing tint, it seem'd 
 No fairy picture: For young Hope reliev'd 
 With golden rays, each figure Fancy drew. 
 'Twas then, with honest independence flush'd, 
 Oft would he cry, ' Ye visions, tho' so fair, 
 ' Perhaps ye promise vainly ! For the mask 
 ' Of dark deceit, too often worn for you, 
 
 Shall never hide one generous feeling 1 Far 
 ' From this untainted bosom be the lure 
 
 ' That leads through Flattery's maze the cringing crew. 
 
 If my sincerer aims be frustrate all ; 
 
 ' Whilst the corrupt, the versatile ascend 
 
 4 To rich preferment through the path whose dust 
 
 ' I would disdain to tread, or, treading, shake 
 
 Indignant from my feet; if every wish, 
 
 Urg'd by no mean ambition, should arise 
 
 4 Unsanction'd ; then, not sorrowing, would I hail 
 ' Then would 1 hail thy bowers, paternal seat ! 
 ' Where I might yet retire, and " eat my bread 
 
 In privacy and peace." There might I rest ; 
 4 My slumb'ring hopes of honour undisturb'd 
 
 By those who, prono to adulation, poor 
 
 ' With a deceitful smile the cold applause ; 
 ' Happy (the hollow sycophant unknown 
 
 To those pure shades) as there, where dawning age 
 ' First weav*d its wayward fancies, I review, 
 
 ' Through the dim vale of years, each mellow trace 
 4 Of childish joy and youthful bliss serene. 
 
 4 There, where the veteran umbrage of the beech 
 4 O'erhangs the cressed brook that gurgling laves 
 ' Its wreathed roots, or the long waving limes 
 4 Have darken'd their broad shadows, may I oft 
 4 Attune the pastoral song ; or, pondering o'er 
 ' The ruthless times when Cromwell's hosts opprees'd 
 ' My loyal fathers, hail in many a tone, 
 4 Pensive and deep, the visionary forms 
 4 Of ancestry, that with majestic air 
 4 Swim by the moon-beam, through the glimmering trees." 
 
 Such his fond thought: and may his heart retaiu 
 Its youthful fires ! But tho' the willing Muse 
 His sacred labours may relieve, and chase, 
 With a benign serenity, the gloom 
 Which settles on the melancholy brow; 
 Never may indolence inspire the dream
 
 86 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES. 
 
 That, first, in a delicious languor creeps 
 Through the dissolving frame, yet gives it o'er 
 To qualms and ceaseless heart-akes ! Then return, 
 Ye Hopes, fair promising, that only wing 
 The soul to vigorous action! Then return 
 The preacher's energetic toils ! And come, 
 Digressive Muse, to note them as they rise." 
 
 " Then deem not (as my previous strain* ^ave taught) 
 Keligion a cold metaphysic form. 
 Musing o'er moral problems, and confin'd 
 To Wisdom's eyes alone. Behold, she sits, 
 While Faith unveils her to the vulgar ga/e. 
 Streaming cherubic effluence o'er her heaven 
 Of spotless azure ! To the dazzling light, 
 Her everlasting robe the asbestos floats 
 In vivid folds. Around her emerald throne 
 The Passions tremble at her awful beck 
 " Her ministers as flaming fire," to waft 
 Into the mortal bosom the pure spark 
 ./Ethereal, that refines our thought ! Hence fly 
 The words that burn ; while her impulsive power 
 Imparts an oratory only less 
 Than what inspir'd the Aposflevwhen of old 
 They spake alt tongues, and saw Confusion's reign, 
 The curse of jarring Shhiary disappear. 1 * 
 
 LETTER VII. 
 Mr. W. to SIR CHRISTOPHER HAWKINS. 
 
 DEAR SIR, 
 
 Amidst your attentions to Parliamentary objects, I 
 hope you will have leisure to pernse a new dissertation from 
 me, in i'avour of my former heroine Queen Mary. You will 
 see what has given occasion to it a present from a gentle- 
 man whom I knew only from this act. He has done himself 
 the honour of bestowing his original miniature upon one of 
 Mary's vindicators; and he has done me the honour of making 
 me that one. I am very proud of the compliment, and very 
 happy in the miniature. The contemplation of it has suggested 
 the remarks whith I have here drawn up, and which form a 
 little kind of new vindication of her. But my principal aim, 
 I own, has been, to dwell on the circumstances of her mur- 
 der; to throw in aew circumstances, additional to the well-
 
 MEMOIRS OF WHITAKER. S7 
 
 known ; and to point from all the rising indignation of the 
 pub lick against Elizabeth. And I now inclose the whole to 
 you, for the perusal of you, Mr. John Hawkins, Mr. Lumis- 
 den, and Mr. Chalmers. 
 
 The donor of this original miniature, in his letter to me, 
 has with great delicacy hinted to me, that he had refused 
 considerable offers for it. Even one of the best modellers 
 in this or perhaps any other country, he says, gave him a 
 bust of Cardinal Wolsey made from the famous picture of 
 the Cardinal at Oxford, merely for being allowed to see the 
 miniature. These are two particulars which enhance the 
 value of it highly. 
 
 Mr. Lumisden, I fancy, will be particularly glad, to peruse 
 the account of it inclosed. I have therefore addressed a lew 
 lines to him, in your cover; as I have addressed a letter to 
 Mr. Chalmers, on that and other subjects. When you have 
 satisfied your curiosity, you may transmit the Dissertation 
 to them. And, when they and Mr. John Hawkins are satis- 
 fied, you may then send it to the quarter for which it is ad- 
 dressed Mr. Nichols, printer, Red Lion Court, Fleet-street; 
 who is the manager of the Gentleman''* Magazine. It will 
 make me happy to hear that you have been pleased with it; 
 being, dear Sir, with great regard, and with my compliments 
 to Mr. John Hawkins, 
 
 Your most obedient, 
 
 JOHN WHITAKER. 
 
 Ruan lanyhorne, Feb. 24, 1791. 
 
 LETTER VIII. 
 SIR CHRISTOPHER HAWKINS to Mr. WHITAKER. 
 
 MY DEAR SIR, 
 
 I think you have completely elucidated the dress 
 of your Queen as well as vindicated her character. You 
 have veil'd her remains from the indecent curiosity of the 
 vulgar, and the savage ferocity of the servants of Elizabeth. 
 And you have made your Queen die with the becoming dig- 
 nity suited to the greatness of her mind as well as of her 
 family. 
 
 You have described what was not seen: had you unlaced 
 and unbuttoned what you have so well described, it might 
 be said you hud taken 'liberties. Unlike the modern beaux
 
 88 
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES. 
 
 eager to place their mistress in cuerpo, and not availing 
 yourself of the liberty allowed pictoribus atque poetis, you 
 nave exhibited her beauty by clothing her, and proved the 
 dignity of her mind by the propriety of her dress. 
 
 Yours, &c. C. H. 
 
 LETTER IX. 
 
 Mr. W. to SIR CHRISTOPHER HAWKINS. 
 
 DEAR SIR, 
 
 A few days ago, I did myself the pleasure of trans- 
 mitting to you a little dissertation on an original portrait of 
 Queen Mary, now in my possession. But I must beg the 
 favour of you at present, not to send it as I had originally 
 destined it to go, to the Gentleman' t Magazine. Mr. Chal- 
 mers, by this morning's post, has made me think better of it 
 than I did, and induced me to think of having it printed as 
 something accidentally additional to my Vindication. I 
 therefore mean to put a new head and tail piece to it, and to 
 enlarge the body of it with some new matter. And I request 
 you to return it to me, as soon as Mr. Lumisden has done 
 with it ; remaining, in great haste, 
 Dear Sir, 
 
 Yours affectionately, 
 
 J. WH1TAKER. 
 Sunday Noon^ March 13, 1791. 
 
 LETTER X. 
 J. WHITAKER to R. P. 
 
 DEAR SIR, 
 
 1 have just received your favour, and reply to it 
 instantly. 
 
 I am sorry to hear from you (for I never heard of the 
 fact before) "that you have been wantonl}' and malignantly 
 attacked in the supplement to the Gent. Magazine. I feel 
 for you. Much depends, in a work like yours, upon the repu- 
 
 * This is an elegant letter.
 
 MEMOIRS OF WUITAKER. 89 
 
 tation that you keep up in the county. You have also a large 
 portion of envy to encounter, from the honour done you in 
 singling you out, so young in years and so much a stranger, 
 for \vriting the County History : Every man has ; who steps 
 out of his rank in society, and leaves his equals and contem- 
 poraries behind him. 1 feel it even now myself, at this ad- 
 vanced stage of my authorship. More probably your anta- 
 gonist is Mr. I , who has been long attempting mis- 
 chief against you, was silenced by your bold attack in May 
 last, but has now begun to spit his venom against you again. 
 
 \Vhoever he is, 1 will grapple with him for your sake, and 
 am glad you have invited me to do so. 
 
 I am just now in the right humour for panegyrizing you. 
 1 have been reviewing your Poems and Discourses, i finished 
 the review of the latter only yesterday. When they will be 
 published, 1 do not know. I am now publishing a Review 
 of the Archaeologia, Vol. IXth, and of Berington's History of 
 Henry II. I shall send, when these are published completely, 
 a Review of Lodge's Illustrations of British Biography, &c. 
 in 3 vol. quarto. And your works will come next, 1 sup- 
 pose, or perhaps with Lodge. 1 have written so much more 
 upon the Archaeologia than the Review can take, that I be- 
 lieve I shall print the whole in a pamphlet without a name. 
 
 I am almost sorry to hear that our POEMS are ready for 
 publication. I have been repeatedly vexed with myself, that 
 I did not withdraw my share of them last Visitation. 1 was 
 inclined to do so, but did not act decisively. To go in com- 
 pany with you as an antiquary, might not disgrace me; but, 
 as a poet, you will be ashamed of your partner. This, how- 
 ever, I say very unaffectedly ; and so leave the peer and the 
 pedlar to move on together. 
 
 In my review of your Discourses and Poems, i have taken 
 care to do the full duty of a friend ; and not, with extorted 
 praises and cordial censures, stab the man that I was pre- 
 tending to caress. I have, however, used the prudent policy 
 of blaming you in some petty and incidental points. I thus 
 throw a slight shade, over the glare of my panegyrical colours. 
 And I conclude in a full radiation of praise. 
 
 In this and in every other point, I shall always be happy 
 to shew you, how much I esteem you. Perhaps I am the 
 more ready to say so, because I know experimentally the 
 envy that must beset you in every movement, and would 
 rejoice to strangle your rising lamp of day with darkness. 1 
 have accordingly taken the liberty of giving a Scotch .jir.t 
 11 2
 
 00 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES. 
 
 through the press to my Lord of Exeter, that he ought to 
 prefer you. 
 
 And I remain, with great regard, dear Sir, 
 
 Your most obedient friend and servant, 
 
 J. WHITAKER. 
 Tuesday, Feb. 7, 1792. 
 
 Mrs. W. joins me in kindest compliments to Mrs. P. 
 
 N. B. A gentleman in this neighbourhood, who has 
 lately been in Oxford, wrote me word on hi> arrival, 
 that my Arianism met with "great applause" there. I 
 replied, that he flattered me very agreeably by the intelli- 
 gence. This, I suppose, made him alter his note. A few 
 days afterward, he called, suppressed entirely the " great 
 applause," and mentioned only what was an implied and ge- 
 neral censure. I saw the meaning of all this. And the same 
 gentleman has now assured me, that the great applause was 
 true, and that the censure was only to one single point, to 
 the manner too, and not to the matter to the manner in 
 which I expose Mahomet's* paradise. But I have encoun- 
 tered more envy just at this moment, I believe, from a story 
 that is in circulation here, and that I hear from the laity of 
 a nobleman in administration speaking very handsomely of 
 my writing, and saying The King must do something for 
 me. This, you will think, is enough to setup all the little 
 souls about me, in open sedition against me. But " some- 
 thing too much of this." 
 
 LETTER XI. 
 J. WHITAKER to R. P. 
 
 DEAR SIR, 
 
 I threw aside all my own studies, and set to work 
 upon answering D. H. I was busy at it, when the Bishop 
 of Derry in Ireland, Earl of Bristol in England, came and 
 spent a day with me. I thus lost the only post left me, of 
 having my Vindication even noticed in February Magazine, 
 and promised for March. I sent it, however, by the folio w- 
 
 * The picture of Mahomet's Paradise is certainly glowing to 
 a degree of voluptuousness.
 
 MEMOIRS OP WHITAKER. 91 
 
 ing- post, and believe it will be inserted in the next. I wrote 
 it hastily under all these circumstances of delay, put the ini- 
 tials of my own name to it, and have spoken as warmly in 
 your favour as friendship itself would dictate. 
 
 Mr. Nichols seems, by your account, to have rather taken 
 part with yon than against you. He will also do you the 
 justice, I doubt not, of inserting my Vindication. The inte- 
 rest of his Magazine, which is, of course, the pole-star of his 
 movements, will put him upon this conduct. A reciproca- 
 tion of attacks and defences, if not protracted to tediousness, 
 will lend a new life to his miscellany. 
 I remain, in great haste, 
 
 Dear Sir, 
 
 Your affectionate friend, 
 
 J. WHITAKER. 
 Friday Evening, March 9, 1792. 
 
 LETTER XII. 
 J. WHITAKER to R. P. 
 
 Monday Evening, May 7 1792. 
 MY DEAR SIR, 
 
 I have received the two volumes of poems. I did 
 not mean to open them immediately ; but the impatience of 
 my girls opened them unawares to me, while they were on 
 the quest of pictures. I then looked at the preface, and thank 
 you for the very friendly manner in which you have men- 
 tioned me. 
 
 You ask me, in which of the English Reviews I shall have 
 any of my criticisms. I answer, that some are now in publi- 
 cation there ; and that you, who know my style so well, 
 ought to have known me there. The criticisms on Bering- 
 ton's History of Henry the Second, and those on the Archae- 
 ologia, Vol. IXtli, which have now continued for three or 
 four months past, were written beneath the shade of this aca- 
 demick bower. The criticisms on Lodge's Illustrations of 
 British History, Biography, and Manners, in 3 vols. quarto, 
 which were published (1 believe) for the first time on the 
 1st of this month, and will be continued for two or three 
 months; are equally shots from the demi-culverin of R. L. 
 Hut, in saying this, I say what few know and none must tell. 
 When these and remarks upon your Orator and your Dit-
 
 92 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES. 
 
 courses are finished, I shall not have any thing more till next 
 winter. 
 
 I embrace your proposal with pleasure, of exchanging 1 
 works for works. 1 shall write to one of rny booksellers in 
 three or four weeks, with some more of my remarks upon 
 Lodge. I shall then order down a set of my works. And I 
 shallwait with impatience for your History of Devonshire. 
 Only you shall send me in the mean time, if you please, the 
 last edition of your Theocritus. 
 
 As to the Parochial History of Cornwall, I certainly shall 
 not undertake it. I never intended to do so. I was only 
 prompted, in a paroxysm of local antiquarianism, to put a 
 few notices together that related to general history and that 
 of my own parish ; and to superadd a few detached observa- 
 tions, that chance presented to my hand. All these I still 
 reserve for you, when Devonshire shall have received its 
 history from a Cornishrnan, and when the fugitive shall 
 return to his native land. If I should ever leave this county 
 before you return into it, I shall be happy to deposit my 
 papers in your hands, as a pledge of my regard, a legacy of 
 antiquarianism, and an incitement to undertake the history. 
 
 Your health, indeed, I apprehend from your account, is at 
 times precarious. You should attend to this, my dear Sir. 
 .You are yet young, and have probably a long race of use- 
 fulness to run. You should not abridge this, by too great 
 sedentariness. Your poetical nerves will not bear the conti- 
 nued application that we prose-rnen can undergo. " The 
 Nemean lion's hardy nerve" can do feats of energy and 
 strength, that the fine-formed antelope cannot pretend to do. 
 In other words, strain not your health too much. Remember 
 that, next to Religion, the prime blessing of life is Health. 
 
 1 am going on, thank God, perfectly in health, yet won- 
 derfully sedentary. My Private Life of Queen Mary, which 
 1 meant only to transcribe, I have been greatly enlarging. 
 One volume I finished last week, and the other 1 shall begin 
 in a day or two. I would gladly send it up to London before 
 Michaelmas. But, though three-fourths I consider as already 
 written, yet I believe I must not think of pushing on so ra- 
 pidly. 1 love to write rapidly, and to revise leisurely. 
 
 We have had a singular character with us the Bishop of 
 Derry. He is ingenious, lively, and a man of great taste in 
 sculpture, painting, and architecture. He came and took a 
 bed here, then went to Plymouth Dock, returned two or three 
 weeks afterward, and came professedly to spend two days in 
 talking Greek with me. " I have been devouring Polybius
 
 MEMOIRS OF WHITAKER. 93 
 
 "these three days," he said in his premonitory letter, "and 
 " want to chew the cud of it with you." He came accord- 
 ingly; we talked over Polybius; and I have written to him 
 since. He is not convinced, and 1 am not converted. 
 Dear Sir, 
 
 Your obedient friend and servant, 
 
 J. WHITAKER. 
 
 LETTER XIII. 
 Mr. WHITAKER to R. P. 
 
 Sept. 20, 1794. 
 MY DEAR SIR, 
 
 A man who has been an author so long as you have 
 been, must have experienced a reciprocation of praises and 
 censures, and be seasoned to them both. A circumnavigator 
 of the globe should smile at the gales, that may justly alarm 
 a fresh-water sailor in the channel. And surely any blasts 
 that can blow from either of those quarters, are not tornadoes 
 to sink, or hurricanes to sweep away the vessel ; are not 
 even the equinoctial storms of the moment of my writing ; are 
 merely the scented winds of Cotton's Eolus. "Do you think 
 the impertinence of such a man ever moves me ? No, truly ! 
 And shall it move you? Not if you are just to yourself, 
 just to your friends, just to the dignity of literature. The 
 man is too " impudent" not to be noticed, but too insignifi- 
 cant to be noticed with vexation by either you or me. As 
 to the other writer, I have always supposed him to be that 
 puppy P., and could have given him a hearty kick upon 
 the breech, had he been present when I read 'his remarks. 
 This man has been also upon me, repeatedly upon me, and 
 in his native manner of vulgar coarseness upon me. But do 
 I fear him? Sooner than I would do so, I would cry out 
 with one of the heroes of Homer, 
 
 Open, thou earth, and hide a warriour's shame. 
 
 And shall you fear a man who is a blackguard by education 
 and a scoundrel in life, an infidel, and a blasphemer ? 
 
 
 
 For 12 years was I engaged in law-suits about tithes, had all 
 the laity against me of course, had all the clergy deserting me, 
 both clergy and laity depressing my character; the clergy, 
 to humble a man who presumed to speak, to write, and to
 
 94 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES. 
 
 print, as if he was snperiour to them; the laity, tobeatdown 
 a bold asserter of clerical rights against their usurpations ; 
 even the very Bishop turning against me, and once the laity 
 proclaiming I should be degraded, the clergy expecting "l 
 should be openly admonished by the Bishop at the Visita- 
 tion. In this situation, Mrs. W. trembling for the conse- 
 quence, and therefore (though under another pretence) re- 
 solvingto go with me, I set out for the Visitation, was thrown 
 from my horse, taken up senseless, and carried back to my 
 
 house. Mr. was sent for, to carry my apology for 
 
 non-attendance to the Bishop. His look convinced me he 
 thought my hurt only a pretence to avoid an attendance. 
 This cured me instantly. I had a plaister applied to my 
 head, re-mounted my horse, went to the Visitation, had more 
 talk than any other man at the table with the Bishop, and 
 returned to the grief (I fear) of some of my brethren, to the 
 amazement of all the laity, in good health and in high spirits. 
 I mention all this, to shew you how I have weathered much 
 greater difficulties than any which you can. have to weather. 
 Religion, indeed, was my support. "Et me qui sidera ful- 
 "cit" was my maxim. And at last I triumphed over all op- 
 position, over-awed the Bishop, subdued my parishioners, 
 and now have my parish in a better btate of subjection and 
 amity towards me, than any of the parishes of my neigh- 
 bours are to them. " Go andi da you likewise." Trust in 
 God, exert yourself with vigour, and you will succeed finally. 
 
 I have thus written a long letter to you, in the midst of 
 some domestic afflictions. My second girl and Mrs. W. were 
 ill for weeks in the \\ inter, of a putrid fever ; and, about 
 three weeks ago, Mrs. W. was obliged to fetch axvay from 
 school at Falmouth the oldest and the youngest, both ill of 
 the same disorder. They have been ever since in bed. The 
 physician says that the crisis is past with the youngest; and 
 it seems, since he was here, to be equally past with the eldest. 
 Yet they are both very weak in body, and very low in spi- 
 rits. And I fear for Mrs. W. so much about them as she is 
 and so often called up to them in the night. "If 1 am be- 
 reaved of her, I am bereaved indeed." 
 
 I beg my respects to Mrs. P. Mrs. W. begs hers to you 
 and her. I may perhaps be permitted by that sickness, to 
 take some rides, and travel into your neighbourhood. If 
 I do, I will certainly wait upon Mrs. P. and you, and pro- 
 fess in person how much I am, 
 My dear Sir, 
 
 Your friend and servant, 
 
 J, WHITAKER.
 
 MEMOIRS OF WHITAKER. 95 
 
 LETTER XIV. 
 J. WHITAKER to R. P. 
 
 Nov. 14, 1794. 
 
 DEAR SIR, 
 
 I believe I never told yoa that General Melvill, 
 who did keep a plentiful table in Brewer-street, London, and 
 had (I believe) Pinkerton on a Sunday to eat his good dinner 
 and hear his frivolous talk ; referred me to Magazines and 
 Reviews, to shew it was a drawn battle between us. This 
 shewed me what he expected from his countryman Pinkerton 
 when he had not struck one stroke ; and the battle was there- 
 fore all upon one side. Yet such was his fear of me, I believe, 
 that he left London after my hearing from him, and retired 
 into Scotland, with a resolution of visiting London no more. 
 
 Yet one countryman of his, to whom I sent a copy of my 
 Hannibal, has just written to tell me, that he has now in the 
 press, and shall publish this month or the next, a pamphlet 
 upon my work, agreeing with me and applauding me in 
 general, only differing from me in one or two particulars. 
 The author of this is one who has been much applauded for 
 one publication, but has so much of simple modesty about 
 him as not to prefix his name to this work or to that. 
 
 Mr. Pownall also, 1 hear, is fretting and fuming at what 
 I have said concerning him. I know him personally, and 
 know him to be a man of genius. He has been some time 
 menacing to publish against me; but this week I have heard 
 that he is to publish in one of the magazines. If he pub- 
 lishes in any bat the Gentleman's, I shall not see him; and 
 if hi* publishes in the Gentleman's, I suppose I shall not 
 answer him. 
 
 I preached at the Visitation a sermon, upon the origin of 
 government. The idea is not novel, but founded upon the 
 everlasting pillars of the Scriptures, and subversive of all 
 the common theories at once. I concluded this with as 
 pointed a description of the present state of France as my 
 pen and my zeal could compose ; and 1 am now going to 
 publish all, as a pamphlet ; in opposition to French anarchy 
 and French Atheism. 1 fear no censures, no contradiction, no 
 malice. Even the guillotine is nothing to him who would 
 be proud to die a martyr for the religion of the Gospel. 
 
 The dreadful wetness of the weather precluded me from 
 all excursions in the month of October. I should otherwise 
 have culled upon you, had I gone west. 
 
 Yours, &c. J. W.
 
 96 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES. 
 
 LETTER XV. 
 Mr. WHITAKER to R. P. 
 
 MT DEAR SIR, 
 
 I am glad to find "you are preparing your MS. 
 "of your first volume for the press." You should pursue 
 this work, I think, as fast as your health and avocations will 
 admit. Other subjects, especially poetical, 1 apprehend, 
 should be superseded by that. When these are completed, 
 and your engagements with the publick performed, then you 
 will certainly be at full liberty to turn to any other. Nor 
 will the stream of poetry in your soul, I suppose, be de- 
 stroyed by the delay. It wi'll only rise and swell the more 
 from the obstruction, and burst out afterwards in a fuller 
 torrent. This is apparent to me from the very return which 
 your letter shews you had been making at the moment, to 
 your historical poem on Sir Francis Drake. I shall be very 
 happy to see this, and to mark your new machinery for it 
 a machinery rising to my mind at this moment, that seems at 
 once Christian, philosophical, and poetical. But I would 
 rather attend to your "Roman and Saxon papers" at present, 
 and am glad to hear you have finished the former. At the 
 same time I must add, that you are right surely to dispel the 
 gloom of a moment, and to irradiate your mind by indulging 
 your fancy, when antiquarian studies will not do the business. 
 The Furry-day* at Helston I have had formerly described 
 to me, and have made some remarks upon it which 1 cannot 
 now find. But your account is more full than my former, 
 as far as my memory can tell me. I particularly remember 
 nothing of the Fadi Dance, but thank you for your whole 
 account. I have been just transcribing it into my collection 
 
 * The following songs were written in 1796 for the Furry of 
 Helston, which (in spite of puritanism, hypocrisy and cant) is 
 still celebrated on the 8th of May, by the innocent gaiety of 
 the young and undesigning. 
 
 APRIL 
 No longer the goddess of florets shall seem 
 
 To rekindle the blooms of the year ; 
 Then scatter around us the wreck of a dream, 
 
 And resign us to "winter austere. 
 To its promise yon delicate child of the shade 
 
 The primrose is never untrue : 
 Nor the lilac unfolds, the next moment to fade ; 
 Its clusters of beautiful blue.
 
 MEMOIRS OF WHITAKEft. 8? 
 
 of Cornish notices. I can therefore explain every point but 
 one, which is in the first line of the 6th stanza, "Aunt Mary 
 " Moses ;" a reading so strange, that I strongly suspect it to 
 he a vicious one. "When 1 hear from you whether this is 
 the true reading, I will hope to tell voa iny explanation of 
 all. In the mean time, 1 will just add, that when in your 
 Devonshire Views you derive Furry from Fer (Cornish) a 
 Fair, and now suppose the Fair-o of the song to confirm 
 your conjecture 5 -I thoroughly concur with you, and see by 
 my notes which I have this moment found, that I derived the 
 name from the same source. Only 1 never considered Fer 
 (Cornish) as the word " whence [comes] the Latin Feria." 
 The Latin is the original term, and the Cornish only a deri- 
 vative from it, Fer (Cornish) being the same with Foire 
 (Irish,) and so forming Fair~o or Furry in pronunciation. 
 
 Tho' weak be its verdure, erelong shall the thorn 
 
 The pride of its blossom display, 
 Where Flora, amid the mild splendor of morn, 
 
 Unbosoms the fragrance of May. 
 THE EIGHTH OP MAY. 
 
 Soft as the sigh of zephyr heaves 
 
 The verdure of Us lucid leaves, 
 
 Yon lily's bell, of vestal white, 
 
 Moist from the dew drop, drinks the light. 
 
 No more in feeble colors cold, 
 
 The tulip, for each glowing fold, 
 
 So richly waved with vermeil dyes, 
 
 Steals rhe pure blush of orient skies. 
 
 The hyacinth, whose pallid hue 
 
 Shrank from the blast that Eurus blew, 
 
 Now trusts to May's delicious calm 
 
 Its tender tint, its musky balm. 
 
 And hark ! the plumed warblers pour 
 
 Their notes, to greet the genial hour. 
 
 As whispering love, this arborous shade 
 
 Sports with the sunbeam down the glade. 
 
 Then say, ye nymphs ! and truly tell, 
 
 If ever with the lily's bell, 
 
 Or with the tulip's radiant dye 
 
 Young poets give your cheeks to vie ; 
 
 Or to the hyacinth compare 
 
 The clustering softness of your hair ; 
 
 If e'er they bid your vocal strain 
 
 In silence hush the feather'd train ; 
 
 Btal not your hearts with more delight 
 
 At every " rural sound and sight," 
 
 Than at such flattery, to the car 
 
 Tho* syren-sweet, yet insincere 1 
 i
 
 98 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES. 
 
 But let me ask you, in return, an heraldrical question. 
 The present arms of the see of Exeter are, a sword in pale, 
 and two keys in saltier. Yet I suspect the sword to have 
 been, about 250 years ago, not in pale, but in saltier with the 
 keys, or (to speak in more technical language) a sword and 
 two keys endorsed in saltier. Have you seen any monument 
 confirming this ? I wish you would consider the point for 
 me. 
 
 This question refers to my Historical Survey of St. Ger- 
 
 THE FADE. 
 White-vestur'd, ye maidens of Ellas draw near, 
 
 And honour the rites of the day : 
 Tis the fairest that shines in the round of the year ; 
 
 Then hail the bright goddess of May. 
 O come, let us rifle the hedges, and crown 
 
 Our beads with gay garlands of sweets : 
 And when we return to the shouts of the town. 
 
 Let us weave the light dance thro' the streets. 
 Flinging open each door, let us enter and frisk, 
 
 Tho' the master be all in a pother 
 For, away from one house as we merrily whisk, 
 
 We viWfade it, quick thro' another. 
 The nymph who despises the furryday-dance, 
 
 Is a fine, or & finical lady 
 Then let us with hearts full of pleasure, advance, 
 
 And mix, one and all, in the Fade I" 
 The SOLITARY FAIR. 
 
 Perhaps, fair maid ! thy musing mind, 
 
 Little to festive scenes inclin'd, 
 
 Scorns not the dancer's merry mood, 
 
 But only longs for Solitude. 
 
 Thy heart, alive to nature's power, 
 
 Flutters within the roseate bower, 
 
 Thrills with new warmth, it knows not why, 
 
 And steals delirium from a sigh. 
 
 Alas ! tho' so averse from glee, 
 
 This genial hour is felt by thee : 
 
 The tumults of thy bosom prove, 
 
 That May is but the nurse of love ! 
 
 BEWARE OF THE MONTH OF MAY. 
 Then, gentlfe maid, whoe'er thou art, 
 
 Who bid'st the shades embowering, veil 
 The sorrows of a lovesick heart, 
 
 And listen to thy pensive tale ; 
 Sweet girl ! insidious May beware ; 
 
 And heed thy poet's warning song 1 
 Lo ! May and Venus spread the snare 
 
 For those who fly the festal throng I
 
 MEMOIRS OP WHITAKER. 99 
 
 man's Church, which I have transcrihed fair, but with so 
 many corrections that I must have it transcribed again. I 
 hope particularly to lighten up the dark history of com- 
 meriting Christianity in this angle of the island ; covered as 
 it is with a thick fog" raised by that Druidical wizard Borlase, 
 and appearing whenever it does appear in a form totally dis- 
 similar from itself. I have been very fortunate, I flatter 
 myself, in breaking up some neiv springs of intelligence, that 
 have long been buried and choaked up under the rubbish of 
 time. But I shall not publish till next winter twelvemonth, 
 as I must make some excursions to the Lizard, &c. &c. be- 
 fore, and as I must procure good drawings to be taken of the 
 church of St. Germans, &c. Mr. Bonner, I fear, is too dis- 
 tant for my purpose. 
 
 But we will talk of these things when I see you. This 1 
 hope to do very soon. 1 hope to pay my respects to you and 
 Mrs. Pohvhele'on Monday sevennight, to be with you by two, 
 and to spend the rest of the day with you. The next morn- 
 ing I shall leave you for the Lizard, Helston, &c. But I 
 despair of bringing Mrs.. W. with me : she will have hr 
 three girls at home with her, and could not he wrenched from 
 them, I believe, by Archimedes's screw itself. 
 I remain, my dear Sir, 
 
 Your affectionate friend and servant, 
 
 J. WHITAKER. 
 Tuesday, May 19, 1793. 
 
 LETTER XVI. 
 
 Mr. W. to SIR CHRISTOPHER HAWKINS. 
 
 DEAR SIR, 
 
 Hoping to find yon at leisure from electioneering 
 business, 
 
 Find yon un-circled by the venal tribe, 
 Smile without art, and win without a bribe ; 
 
 I write to thank you for vour attention to my literary wants, 
 in consulting General Melville upon my objects. That at- 
 tention was peculiarly kind in you, ani has gained me the 
 very intelligence which I wanted. 
 
 General Melville's inquiries concerning me do me great 
 honour, yet do himself greater. His is a mind truly digni- 
 fied. And his remittance of my inquiries to a proper answerer, 
 is a proof of great kindness.
 
 190 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES. 
 
 But I did not know before, and am very happy to know 
 by experience now, that Mr. Lumsdaine, the worthy, the 
 friendly Mr. Lumsdaine, is so comprehensively learned. His 
 account of the classick remains at Rome must prove a rich 
 fund of delight to the classick antiquary, whenever it comes 
 out. I am only sorry to t'md that it is not likely to come 
 soon. 
 
 In his full and satisfactory answers to my questions, he 
 refers me to " Anneau, Bague, see that article in the Ency- 
 " clopedie Methodique, Dictionaire des Antiquites, Mytholo- 
 " gie, Diplomatique, des Chartres, et Chronologic, par M. 
 " Monger. Vol. I. page 128." But is this a reference to 
 one book or two? 1 suppose it to be only to one, Encyclo- 
 pedic Methodique, and to a particular set of volumes in that 
 one. And this I beg to borrow from you; remaining, dear 
 Sir, with great regard, 
 
 Your most obedient, 
 
 JOHN WHITAKER. 
 Tuesday Morning. 
 
 LETTER XVII. 
 
 Mr. W. to SIR CHRISTOPHER HAWKINS. 
 
 DEAR SIR, 
 
 Amidst a thousand reports concerning your elec- 
 tionary business at Tregonay, which generally prove false in 
 the event, one is, that your brother is arrived from his second 
 course of travels, and is coming with you to Tregoney. This, 
 1 hope, will not prove eventually false. Yet I am very 
 doubtful of the truth. I therefore send over to inquire, whe- 
 ther he is returned or not. If he is, I beg my respects to him, 
 and shall be happy to pay them in person to him and you at 
 this house. 1 long to hear his account of the Tomb* of 
 
 * In 1796, the famous controversy began respecting the very 
 existence <if Troy, and of the Trojan War, which had been 
 opened by the learned and excellent Jacob Bryant in two 
 quarto tracts. One of these was entitled " Observations upon 
 a Treatise entilled, ' A Description of the Plain of Troy, by 
 M. Le Chevalier:'" the other, "a Dissertation concerning 
 the War of Troy. and the Expedition of the Greeks, as describ- 
 ed by Homer ; showing that no such Expedition was ever 
 undertaken, and that no such City of Phrygia ever existed."
 
 MEMOIRS OF WHTTAKER. 101 
 
 Achilles, and his proof of Chevalier's mediate or immediate 
 forgerv concerning it. At present, I range on the side of 
 Chevalier, and know nothing yet to impeach his honour ; 
 though 1 hear, hut do not believe, the Duke de Choiseul 
 Gouffier has published a caution to believers in his work. 
 
 This most ingenious man, who had been long employing his 
 very uncommon learning and talents to support an ideal his- 
 tory of his own creation, by the most fanciful and impossible 
 etymologies, now undertook to obliterate all the traces of ge- 
 nuine history which had always been supposed to exist in the 
 writings of an ancient bard, who had been appealed to in all 
 ages, as the most undeniable evidence of facts that formed 
 the ground-work of his poems. This attempt occasioned 
 an immediate alarm in the learned world : and several able 
 opponents quickly started up to dispute the positions of 
 the veteran Etonian. Nor was he at all overlooked in the 
 British Critic. 
 
 It was not possible that Dr. Vincent should be inattentive 
 to this contest, or indifferent to the subject of it; but, at the 
 time when it commenced, he was too much occupied by his 
 own objects to take up the pen. The Review had then 
 its most learned contributor in WHITAKER ; who furnished two 
 powerful articles on Bryant's first Dissertation.* It was 
 not till Mr. Morritt's able Vindication of Homer appeared in 
 1798, that Dr. Vincent began to take an active part in the 
 controversy. He then entered the field with spirit against the 
 venerable, but paradoxical mythologist ; and though assailed 
 by rather unfair weapons, never afterwards receded from his 
 ground. He fought with vigour, but with a strict regard to 
 the laws of literary chivalry. His first critique, upon the 
 subject of Homer and Troy, appeared in the Brit. Crit. Vol. 
 XII. p. 632, in a Review of Mr. .Morritt's- work, which he 
 there describes as " common sense employed against a mass 
 of erudition; and a collection of evidence from the most ap- 
 proved authors, placed in opposition to the capricious judgment 
 of the few and the most obscure forty forty-three authors 
 (and the number might be greatly increased) in opposition to 
 three names quoted at second hand, to three writers in propria 
 ptrsona, to an epigram, and to Mr. Bryant himself, the only 
 author who ever imagined that the scene of the Iliad was in 
 Egypt." 
 
 A sentence so decided, supported by strong reasons, was too 
 much for the patience of a veteran little used to meet with vi- 
 gorous opposition ; and called forth Mr. Bryant in an angry 
 " Expostulation addressed to the British Critic," in which he 
 so far forgot himsejf as to term his unknown opponent ';< 
 assassin.'* 
 
 See Br. Crit. Vol. IX. pp. 535 and 591. 
 
 i2
 
 102 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES. 
 
 You have such electioaary irons in the fire yourself, that 
 you can hardly attend to the antique tale of Troy. Just as 
 you had reached the tomb of Antilochus, perhaps, a message 
 from Tregoney would call you away, to meet and encounter 
 Captain Eliot, the son of the old Nestor of St. Germans; 
 and, in the moments of ransacking the barrow of Achilles, 
 you would be whirled away with the intelligence of one like 
 Achilles being busy in breaking the heads of your voters. 
 Perhaps too, your brother may prefer for a while the bustle 
 and hurry of electionary matters, to all classical concerns ; 
 and, instead of running 1 with Alexander round the tombs of 
 the heroes, may chuse to run the gauntlet through drunken 
 burgesses and their more drunken wives. I can only say, 
 therefore, that, if Mr. Hawkins be come back from the East, 
 I congratulate him on his return, and shall be happy (after 
 next week, in which my daughters return to school) to wait 
 upon him and you under this roof; remaining, with great 
 respect, dear Sir, 
 
 Your most obedient servant, 
 
 JOHN WHITAKER. 
 Saturday Morning % Jan, 23, 1796. 
 
 I beg to borrowfrom your library, that volume of the En- 
 cyclopedic Prancoise, which has the title Mitre in it. 
 
 LETTER XVIII. 
 J. WHITAKSR to SIR CHRISTOPHER HAWKINS. 
 
 DEAR SIR, 
 
 I thank you for sending me your brother's letter. 
 It has afforded me equal pleasure and information. I feel 
 much of his spirit of historical enquiry ; but I love to indulge 
 it in a less hardy and ad venturous way. I mount my Alps in 
 my study. Yet, while I follow this way, I admire the other. 
 
 Laudato ingentia rura, 
 
 Parva tene 
 
 is my line of practice ; yet surely a very humble one for him. 
 And I beg you will present my best compliments of esteem 
 and admiration, when you write. 
 
 I was busily employed most of last week, in something si- 
 milar to his operations ; fixing the site, and ascertaining the 
 form of the famous' temple at Ephesus. What induced me to
 
 MEMOIRS OP WHITAKER. 193 
 
 take such an excursion, you will wonder ; as neither Hannibal 
 nor St. German could have any possible connection with it. 
 But I took it from a promise which I made some months ago, 
 and to the performance of which I was not able to sit down 
 befpre last week ; of reviewing 1 the eleventh volume of the 
 Archaeologia. This however is a secret, which I confide with 
 you. But the first article in that volume is a dissertation on 
 the temple of Ephesus, by Mr. Falconer, of Chester; which I 
 meant to applaud before I began, as I knew him'to be a man 
 of great talents, but which I have been forced to oppose, and 
 believe I have refuted from end to end. My paper I finished 
 late on Saturday evening, and hope it will come in time for 
 the next publication of the British Critick. If there you see 
 it, you will have previously known the author. But you 
 must keep my secret. 
 
 Your brother's traveJlingcompanion, Dr. Sibthorp, 1 knew 
 well, and am sorry to find he has returned in so poor a state 
 of health. He was never a man of robust and vigourous 
 health. His design to winter in Cornwall, I suppose with 
 you, has been altered from the uncommon mildness of the 
 weather. I should otherwise have been very happy to see 
 him here. 
 
 I thank you for your printed answer to Mr. Harwell's 
 printed paper. My attachments are all personally to you, in 
 the contest between him and you. I have no acquaintance 
 with him, and you are both ministerial men. I have there- 
 fore said repeatedly to Mr. Harington, who is almost the 
 only gentleman of Tregoney whom I see, that, was I a Bur- 
 gess, I should certainly vote for you. And the predominating 
 sentiment of my heart for you has been this, that the contest 
 could be closed, or at least that you and he should agree to 
 give no more money. Those leeches of Tregoney will suck 
 you both, while there is one drop of blood behind. 
 
 I have been lately thrown into a very awkward predica- 
 ment with Lord Eliot. In September last I wrote to tell 
 him, how nearly completed my Historical Survey of St. Ger- 
 man's church was, with how many plates and in what form I 
 meant to publish it. To this letter he did not reply. I there- 
 fore about a month afterwards, being upon a visit a few miles 
 from him, never went near him or his church. He heard of 
 my visit, and wondered at my absence. I accounted for it to 
 my correspondent, from bis omission. of writing to me. My 
 correspondent assured me, that the omission was occasioned 
 merely by his lowness of spirits, at the present posture of na- 
 tional affairs. Yet neither the good news from the Cape of
 
 104 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES. 
 
 Good Hope, nor tlie success obtained at Trincomalee,have had 
 any influence upon his spirits since. The glass has not risen, 
 and the answer has not been sent. In this low state of the 
 glass, he objected to a Mr. Bentley whom I was engaging to 
 take some drawings of the church and abbey, because he 
 meant to entertain him in his house, and he was a drinking 
 man. I was thus shut out from the only draughtsman in the 
 neighbourhood, but with a promise of a drawing made by Miss 
 Eliot formerly, and of procuring me a draughtsman from Ply- 
 mouth. Of the drawing I have never heard since, and be- 
 lieve I shall hear no more. But luckily a gentleman has come 
 forward, to offer me three drawings taken by himself of he 
 church. They are very fine ones, I understand, and I shall 
 make them serve, I believe, without troubling my Lord ever 
 Hiore. 
 
 I return you the two volumes of the " Encyclopedic Me- 
 thodique." 1 found them much more replete with intelli- 
 gence, than I expected. I particularly found that very mitre, 
 which I wanted. But this is like the air-drawn dagger in 
 Macbeth; and when I say "corr.e, let me clutch thee," it va- 
 nishes from my hand like his ! However, it " marshalled me 
 to my purpose ;" which was, to prove mitres of the present 
 form much older by ages than Montfaucon lias said. And 
 for the same " purpose" I beg to borrow the 3 volumes, con- 
 taining " Anne, and Corbie," and " Theodnlphe." 
 
 I thank you for your information concerning Mr. Gibbon's 
 posthumous works. Have you got in the country his sketch 
 of Hannibal's course ? For a sketch, 1 see from you, it merely 
 . From Mr. Temple's letter to me some months ago, I was 
 led to expect some notice of my reviewof his history. But I 
 suppose you hear nothing of this. 
 
 If you do not return to London soon, I shall be happy to 
 see you at this house. I dare not call upon you, lest I should 
 be surrounded with burgesses and the wives of burgesses. 
 ** Procul, O procul, este profani !" With Mrs. YV*s. compli- 
 ments, however, I remain, 
 
 Dear Sir, Your most obedient servant, 
 
 JOHN WHITAKER. 
 
 Monday, Feb. S,
 
 MEMOIRS OF WH1TAKER* 1 05 
 
 LETTER XIX. 
 
 Mr. WHITAKER to R. P. 
 
 Wednesday* May 25, 1796. 
 My DEAR SIR, 
 
 Your letter and present found me so deeply en- 
 gaged, that I could but just gratify my eager curiosity by 
 reading 1 the one and dipping into th'e other. I then laid the 
 latter on the shelf, close to my eye, and ready for my peru- 
 sal, when the hour of vacation should speedily come. But 
 the term proved longer than I expected, much longer indeed ; 
 and the vacation was consequently thrown to a great distance. 
 It came not till this morning.. I then sat tiov. n to your poem 
 regularly, having already read it over bv piecemeals at inter- 
 vals; and read it with satisfaction. I would then have gladly 
 dispensed with writing remarks upon it for the British Critic ; 
 as, to say truth, I am just now tired of reviewing, having 
 been employed in the work, with some interruptions, for ten 
 or twelve weeks past. But I saw you requested me Co do it ; 
 and I was unwilling to refuse you. I therefore took a sheet 
 of paper, and have ju^t filled something more than half of 
 it with extracts. 
 
 Having done this, I go back with the full bent of my soul 
 to my Historical Survey of St. German's Church. This I 
 begin to-morrow to transcribe fair for the press. My last 
 copy was so intended, but has received additions so large, 
 and corrections so numerous, as to be unfit for a compositor's 
 eye. I have particularly discovered in the very act of re- 
 viewing, and by means of it, that a church built by the Ro- 
 mans in this island ahout the year 312, and mentioned by 
 Bede as existing in his time, is still in great part existing 
 at this day. A very recent history has baen published of it, 
 which enabled me to see what the author saw not, the general 
 identity of his church with the Roman. I saw not this myself 
 at first, though I had read the work very carefully, and had 
 even written remarks upon some positions in it. Vet, being 
 called upon to review the author, I then saw his re-construc- 
 tion of the church to be a mere reparation, and three-fourths 
 of the old to remain still. This discovery, in those circum- 
 stances, delighted me so much, that I threw aside my review- 
 ing pen, and took up my historical. I inserted a dissertation 
 U|)on the church in my Survey of St. Germans, to correct the 
 errour of the historian, to prove the antiquity of the present 
 building, and to state my reasons at full length.
 
 106 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES. 
 
 Stimulated by this discovery, I instantly determined to try 
 for another. Of four churches mentioned by Bede as built 
 by the Romans and existing in his time, I had now traced the 
 form of one that has been long destroyed, from a description 
 hardly known to the publick ; a second is well known to 
 exist at present, but very petty in size and very plain in 
 style; and a third I had now discovered. The fourth was in 
 Galloway within Scotland, in a region visited by no travel- 
 lers, and at a town that never bred an historian. Yet I wished 
 and longed to know what was become of it. As a cathedral 
 of the Romans, it could not be lost in obscurity, though it 
 might have been destroyed as a cathedral by fanatick folly. 
 I therefore wrote a long letter to the unknown minister of 
 the town, and sent it away. And about a fortnight ago 
 I received a long reply, from a Dr. J. Davidson, full of 
 civility, recognizing me as the Historian of Manchester, and 
 giving me all the information which he thought I wanted. 
 He even solicited a correspondence with me, and begged to 
 be instructed by me in the history of his own town. I 
 thought the request for information, very fair, in return for 
 my request of information from him. " I have accordingly 
 written him a long letter back, telling him all that Bede tells 
 me, and asking for some farther particulars concerning the 
 cathedral. It is now in ruins ; but eight arches are remain- 
 ing, gome round, some peaked. And it is well remembered 
 to have had that very form of structure, for which I peculiarly 
 wished to appeal to it. 
 
 These, indeed, wiH seern to yon (half antiquarian as you 
 are, but a poet in the better half) the mere dreams of sleeping 
 antiquarianism, woven of such light stuff a^ your poetical 
 dreams are, but not half so ingenious, half so ravishing us 
 they. Yet dreams they are very pleasing to us heavy-headed 
 antiquaries, that sometimes "lap" even " us in Elysium." 
 But these dreams have been, I cannot say disturbed, only in- 
 terrupted, by the much less pleasing realities of the world. I 
 know not whether you saw me noticed in the House of Com 
 mons, by Courtenay and by Sheridan, for my Real Origin of 
 Government. I heard of the fact, but could not see it in my 
 newspaper for some time, and was vexed I could not. I saw 
 it at last, and rejoiced. And, at the instigation of the Arch- 
 deacon, I drew up a reply by way of note to my present 
 work, treating them with high contempt for their reprehen- 
 sion. But I afterwards received certain information, that 
 Start, the member for Bridport, and the introducer of 
 Reeves's pamphlet into the House, had declared openly my
 
 MEMOIRS OF WHITAKER. 10? 
 
 pamphlet was then before a committee of the Whig Club 
 Erskine, Sheridan, &c., to see if they could find any scope 
 for prosecuting the author. This intelligence so little affect- 
 ed me on the receipt, that a month afterwards, when I came 
 to answer the letter containing it, it appeared quite new to 
 me. I enlarged my note, however, and gave a defiance to the 
 whole host of opposition. But, during this threatened pro- 
 secution of me, I sent a message to Mr. Reeves, encouraging 
 him to stand up against the prosecution, and censuring Mr. 
 Pitt for his mean desertion of him. This induced him to 
 write to me, and ask me to make a common cause with him 
 by writing a pamphlet in his defence. I began accordingly 
 to project one, one that would have doubly enraged the 
 democrats of the Commons. But Mrs. W. "was alarmed; 
 and I was very busy about other studies, undetermined how 
 I should act, yet inclining to peace because of the desertion. 
 Then Mr. Reeves wrote again to me, and said a brief would 
 be of more use than a pamphlet. A brief required no length 
 of time or labour. I sat down to write one, with the first 
 volume of the Statute-book before me ; and in eight or nine 
 days sent him four or five sheets, calculated for speaking, and 
 well seasoned with cayenne. He has since desired me to 
 enlarge it, which I declined to do; and to let him publish it, 
 to which I hare consented. Only he is to publish it as an 
 intended brief, it being too spirited for any thing else. Last 
 Friday his trial came on, ana ke was acquitted. The publi- 
 cation, therefore, of this and other things, will now come 
 triumphantly forward, I suppose. The most obnoxious po- 
 sition in this pamphlet of Reeves's, is one which I maintained 
 against Dr. Johnson in the autumn of 1761. 
 
 Mr. Gregor comes not among us here. I have not seen 
 him for more than a twelvemonth. Parliament and the militia 
 entirely engross him. But, whenever I see him, I will en- 
 deavour to remember you. Yet, as seeing him is all uncer- 
 tain, I will write to Mr. W. Gregor, state your complaint, 
 and desire him to communicate it to his brother. We are 
 involved in all the noise of Tregoney election. Mr. 
 
 has behaved so ill in it, with such a regular system of perfidy, 
 and has so plainly betrayed all his perfidy in one of those 
 drunken periods which are very frequent with him ; that the 
 fool has counteracted the knave. Mr. W. Gregor and myself 
 do not speak to him when we see him. Yet I go not to the 
 other party in Tregoney, though Mr. W. Gregor has gone 
 once, and though Lord and Mr. Eliot came hitherto ask me. 
 1 will not fly in the face of my old friend Sir C. Hawkins.
 
 108 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES. 
 
 The Baronet will carry the election, I believe ; but must 
 
 finally lose the borough, 1 apprehend. And Mr. 
 
 will either be killed by Sir Christopher's table, or be ruined 
 
 by Mr. B 's law. 
 
 When shall we see you and Mrs. P. here ? Mrs. W. sends 
 her compliments and hopes. And I am, my dear Sir, with 
 great affection, 
 
 Your friend and servant, 
 
 JOHN WHITAKER. 
 
 P. S. Mr. Gregor is now at Trewarthennick. Mr. W. 
 G. and myself unite to advise you, to write to Mr. G. your- 
 self directly. Pray, is the " B'ishop Bennet" of your last, a 
 Bishop of Ireland ? 
 
 Thurtday Evening. 
 
 LETTER XX. 
 Mr. WHITAKER to R. P. 
 
 MY DEAR FRIEND, 
 
 Your letter, note, and present successively reached me, 
 in the very heat and hurry of my personal attendance upon 
 my harvest, on Tuesday and Friday in last week. On Tues- 
 day I began my attendance, having excused myself on Mon- 
 day in order to finish an addition to my Historical Survey, 
 upon which my mind was keenly bent ; a history of Tre- 
 goney, in four or five pages folio. From that day to Satur- 
 day included, 1 was in my wheat-field the whole of the day, 
 from nine to seven. On Saturday evening I finishtd reap- 
 ing, and had all the work-folks into the kitchen at night, to 
 drink, dance, and sing. Such was my week of work a 
 Kttle literary, and the rest all farming ! I could therefore, 
 just read over your letters, &c., lay them down, and refer 
 them to an hour of leisure for consideration and answer. 
 That hour is now come. This morning I began to take up 
 my barley, but I do not attend upon the operation. The 
 labourers are too few, to require my oversight. 
 
 In this employ I have been so much engaged, that I have 
 not yet had time to send my man over to T ruro for the Bri- 
 tish Critick. You have therefore an advantage over me, in 
 having read what I have not my review of your excel- 
 fent poem. I am glad, however, to find that you like it.
 
 MEMOIRS OF WHITAKER, 109 
 
 And I shall always be happy in any opportunity of shewing 
 my regard for you. I am proud to be considered by you at 
 your first friend. 
 
 I had not heard til! you told me, of the publication of 
 Essays by your club at Exeter. I am glad to find that there 
 are some of yours in it. Your essay on Falconry is on a cu- 
 rious subject ; and I long to read it as soon as I have leisure. 
 Your essay on Benevolence I anticipate in fancy ; and your 
 ode to the Genius of Damnonium, I prophesy, will prove 
 better than both to my taste. That the tincture of your an- 
 tiquarian ideas should colour over the last, is very natural ; 
 and the ideas, I must say, are peculiarly calculated for the 
 regions of poetry. You " poets do best \nfiction" As soon 
 as I can break the chain that ties me up to St. German's 
 shrine, I will endeavour to procure the work, perhaps to re- 
 view it. 
 
 I am sorry to find that you have been ill used by the so- 
 ciety. But managers of publications always consider them- 
 selves first. Such is human nature, from the superinduced 
 principle of corruption very selfish and very vain ! With 
 Downman's writings I am very little conversant; but I have 
 always considered him as a man of genius and taste. Swete 
 is a little crow, walking erect in a gutter, and showing his 
 littleness the more conspicuously by his strutting. Such a 
 man's essay on Cromlechs must be frivolous and petty indeed. 
 If I remember right, you had written well upon th* subject 
 in your Historical Views. And, if I review the Essays, I 
 wil'l do you justice upon the whiffler. What a fop to "fur- 
 " nish decorations for adorning his essays !" But you have 
 really been ill used by the editor, if " many of the b'est parts 
 " of your essay" on Falconry have been " left out." To 
 take such a liberty with an essay, is an unpardonable act of 
 presumption in any editor. It is worse than the omission of 
 other essays of yours ; because it is not within the province 
 of an editor so to act, but to omit, f*. The publick, however, 
 have reason to resent the suppression, if the suppressed essays 
 are "much superiour to this on Falconry." Yours were sup- 
 pressed, the publick will have reason to say, to make room 
 for Sir Vanity and his decorations. 
 
 I have read over parts of the magazine sent me, and like 
 it much. 1 find the author to be what you call him a friend 
 to the Constitution. I heartily wish him, therefore, all suc- 
 cess ; and I will endeavour, whenever I can throw oif the in*. 
 cumbrance now pressing heavy on my shoulders, to write 
 
 K
 
 110 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES. 
 
 something for him. But I beg- he will not put himself to the 
 trouble of sending me one of his monthly numbers. 
 
 I thank you for the pleasure which you intend me, of giving 
 me your company here. I shall be happy to receive it. But 
 I fear the second Thursday in September (the day of the 
 school-meeting) will be too close upon my harvest to find 
 me quite disengaged. I have two days more of hard work 
 to bear the two carrying-days for wheat and fo barley res- 
 pectively : in these I am ousy within my mowhay, from five 
 in the morning till eight at night. This day next week I 
 mean to carry my wheat, and this day fortnight to carry my 
 barlev. The Monday following, therefore, allowing for any 
 delays that may occasionally intervene, and fora visit that we 
 expe'ct will then be over; even on Monday the 19th of Sep- 
 tember, I shall see you, I trust. A Monday is more conve- 
 nient than a Thursday ; because it permits what I hope from 
 you, a visit of several days. I shall then be able to shew 
 you what I am now transcribing for the press, and to talk 
 over parts of it at our leisure. And 1 shall therefore depend 
 upon seeing you on that day, unless 1 hear to the contrary ; 
 remaining, with mine and Mrs. W.'s respects to Mrs. Pol- 
 whele, 
 
 My dear Sir, your friend, 
 
 J. WH1TAKER. 
 Monday, Aug. 22, 1796. 
 
 LETTER XXI. 
 
 MR. WHITAKER to R. P. 
 
 MY DEAR SIR, 
 
 As 1 am setting out with Mrs. VV. to-morrow morn- 
 ing, on a visit to our girls at Falmouth ; I take up my pen in 
 haste, to trouble you with a little kind of antiquarian commis- 
 sion in your peninsulated region of Meneage, and to send my 
 letter to you by some of the marketers of Tuesday. 
 
 In all excursions of an historical nature, one is so apt to 
 unite visits of duty and of pleasure, that the latter swallow 
 up the former almost entirely. This was the case with me, 
 in my incursion into your Meneage last year. My grand ob- 
 jects stood still, while I conversed with Mr. James or dis- 
 puted with Mr. Sandys. I did not visit the place, that I 
 folly meant to visit, and that I peculiarly wished to see.
 
 MEMOIRS OF WHITAKER. 111 
 
 I beg leave, therefore, to visit it by you. Will you be so 
 obliging, while the weather continues mild and soft, to take & 
 ride to Saint ftuan, a house or village pretty near to Grade 
 church, and to observe what traditions you can catch con- 
 cerning St. Ruan's residence as a hermit there, or what ob- 
 jects you can discern as the remaining memorials of it. I 
 would wish you to be as particularly tenacious of the tradi- 
 tions, as if they were to be your neck-verse, and upon your 
 faithful recital of them depended your preservation from the 
 gallows. Yet the remains, if any, will be still more import- 
 ant. There was once a chapel here, the hermitage-chapel of 
 the Saint. And there is still, 1 believe, a fountain of water 
 
 1 splendidior 
 
 stance, its clearness, its brightness. For thereon hangs my 
 whole etymon of the name of the forest. 
 
 Mr. Kempe, the rector of Grade, will readily assist you in 
 your investigations, I believe ; but I would rather recom- 
 mend you to any prating old-man or old-woman. These 
 never mix their own fancies with the traditions, or ratherhave 
 none to mix with them. But the Divine may have just learn- 
 ing enough, to mar the tradition by his bad telling it. You 
 may, however, want his introduction to some such prater, the 
 genuine and fair-voiced herald of tradition. And, if you do, 
 yon may present my compliments to him, if youdo not know 
 him yourself. I have ben very busy since I saw you here, in 
 transcribing my Historical Survey, and in correcting or enlarg- 
 ing it. On Friday I inserted an account of my own parish, in 
 an account of the "Saint of Meneage. And yester afternoon 1 
 finished my last chapter but one, my sixth. The seventh, 
 and a large appendix, will however take me up till Christmas, 
 or the end of January. That or this will be the earliest pe- 
 riod, at which I can send my MS. to London; I believe, I 
 shall then print through thespringand summer, having every 
 sheet down by the post, and publish about this time next 
 year. You must go on, I suppose, in the same mode of dila- 
 tory cautiousness. Only you have begun already, but then 
 have more sheets to print than 1, and in a largefc size. 
 
 I have never yet heard from the Archdeacon. He is too 
 busy, good man ! to attend to those among his clergy, who 
 are not weak enough to be as idle as the generality are, and 
 who are setting an example of studiousness in private with 
 usefulness to the publick, that even an Archdeacon may blush 
 not to imitate. When I trouble him again with a letter, I will
 
 112 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES. 
 
 say as much. A poor prude in a cassock, and a prude witn- 
 out the religiousness attached to the character !* 
 
 As you have never read (I believe) my course of Hannibal, 
 and as I have one copy now at Falmouth, I will lend it to 
 you, and perhaps rr.ay stnd it with tins. A tall adventures, I 
 will direct it to be transmitted to you, by the person or per- 
 sons to whom I have lent it. And you may keep it till the 
 spring. 
 
 The enquiries concerning St. Ruan's well, recur upon my 
 mind. It' you find it, pray take your own descriptive pen to 
 tell me its beauties, and then I can say again with Horace, 
 
 Fies nobilium to quoque fontium 
 Me dicente. 
 
 And to your obligingness in doing this, add that of doing it 
 speedily. Let me hear from you in the course of a few days, 
 while your mind and mine is set upon it, and the weather in- 
 vites you to such an excursion for the morning. I have your 
 Historical views now upon rny table, ready for my perusal 
 now my chapter is compleated, and open for the selection of 
 some passage as the ground of a just compliment to the author. 
 1 always feel happy, when I can either speak or write in com- 
 pliment to an author, of whom I entertain so high an opinion ; 
 remaining in hopes of hearing from you soon, my dear Sir, 
 and with Mrs. VV's. respects, Mrs. Polwhele's and your 
 obedient friend and servant, 
 
 JOHN WHITAKER. 
 Sunday Evening, Oct. 23, 1796. 
 
 I open my letter to copy a note which I have just written 
 about you," "In this opinion unites with me one, with 
 " whom I am always happy to be united, as a very in- 
 " genious writer and my particular friend^-the Rev. Mr. 
 
 * No one could have thought more highly of Whitaker than 
 Archdeacon Moore. And Whitaker momentarily piqued at the 
 Archdeacon's neglect in not answering a letter, thus slightingly 
 spoke of our common friend ; in direct opposition to the pre- 
 vailing tenourof his sentiments. Not " to answera letter," in- 
 deed, is almost an insult to the writer of it. I scarcely ever 
 knew a GENTLEMAN, who, at any time under any pretence, 
 omitted " to answer a letter" from a GENTLEMAN. But Whit- 
 aker's letter (we found upon enquiry) had been mislaid. Our 
 truly venerable Archdeacon ranked high, even among distin- 
 guished characters, as a finished gentleman, a man of talents, 
 taste, and learning, and a Christian in heart and in practice.
 
 MEMOIRS OF WHITAKER. 113 
 
 " Polwhele, now Vicar of Manackan, in Cornwall ; in his 
 " Historical Views of Devonshire, p. 91 92. There the poet 
 " appears in the antiquary ' like some earth-born giant* la- 
 ' bouring under the load of a mountain, turning from side 
 " to side for greater exertions of his powers, and shewing 
 " both in numerous flashes of fire from below." 
 
 LETTER XXII. 
 Mr. WHITAKER to R. P. 
 
 Mr DEAR SIR, 
 
 As Mrs. Whitaker is going to Falmonth to-mor- 
 row, in order to bring home her daughters for Christmas ; I 
 take this opportunity of writing to you as it were from Fal- 
 month, and of replying to your late" with your former letter. 
 
 For the trouble which I gave you, and for the kindness 
 which you shewed me, in searching for the residence of Ruan 
 at St. Ruan, 1 thank you. Your account also answered my 
 expectations, and gratified my wishes* You saw the very 
 well of my saint, and found it as I supposed it was clear 
 and cold. You saw also the very hermitage of my saint, 
 changed into a chapel after his death, and lately re-built into 
 a dwelling-house. You thus did all that I wanted you to do. 
 And I have entered your account into its proper place in my 
 work. 
 
 With regard to the miscellaneous production of your Exeter 
 club, I have never yet opened it. I have recollected that 1 
 had received it. I should not, perhaps, have recollected it 
 at all, if you had not mentioned it in your favours. So much 
 am I engaged in my own work ! So absorbed and englutted 
 am I in any stream into which I plunge ! This 
 
 * Curo ct rogo, et omnis in hoc sum." 
 
 I now, however, promise you, that as soon as I have finished 
 the present chapter, and so finished the work itself, having 
 then an appendix only, though a very large one (and 1 shall 
 finish it, I trust, next week ;) I will then open, peruse, and 
 review the work. And I doubt not but I shall with strict 
 justice vindicate what you have said, and bring it forward 
 into publick approbation or publick applause. Yet allow 
 me to observe, that I think you should be less anxious con- 
 cerning what reviewers do or will say of you. I think you 
 
 K 9
 
 114 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES. 
 
 owe this to your own character and to your own ease. Your 
 own character calls upon you to act with dignity about what 
 they may or do say. Your own ease equally requires you, 
 to wait with a calm consciousness for any thing they do or 
 may say. You are a reviewer yourself. In what are they 
 superiour to yourself? " Are their sides ribbed with 
 " steel, that they are not as vulnerable as we?" Or rather, 
 as far as we know of their names, are they not inferiour in 
 every estimate of power and strength ? And shall we not 
 therefore be inclined to dash our iron gauntlet in their chops, 
 rather than crouch or tremble before them ? I would as- 
 suredly dash it much rather. I have thus delivered myself 
 long since from that aguishness about fame, which would 
 keep me continually in a hot or cold fit, and thus reduce my 
 vigour into weakness. 
 
 In this spirit am I proceeding, with painful steps and slow, 
 up the hill, with my Historical Survey. I am ever labouring 
 in the advance, yet mount only by inches. 1 have now fixed 
 February next for my goal of rest, but begin already to doubt 
 whether I shall repose at it by that time. For rny own part, 
 1 feel easy about the even?. 1 shall be glad to finish, because 
 to finish presents a pleasing idea to the mind. Yet I shall 
 not repose, I know. As soon as this work is done, I shall 
 fly to another. I shall set a new bowl to run its course upon 
 the green, and move with its leaden bias towards the jack. 
 Et globulus globulum velut unda superrenit undam. 
 
 I have lately bad an overture made me, of writing in ano- 
 ther Review. The premium is three guineas a sheet. I am 
 staggered by this, as at present I write in the British gratui- 
 touslv, and merely to support it as an orthodox and constitu- 
 tional journal of literature I had indeed resolved to write 
 in none but this. Yet to retrieve a Review peculiarly un- 
 constitutional and unorthodox, in some measure, frorii the 
 hands of our dornestick enemies, would be a glory worthy of 
 any man to gain. I will therefore consider it. But, after 
 all consideration, I believe I sliall hardly engage, as I have 
 so much to do of my own, and have so" strong a desire to 
 tscape into higher studies and Biblical writings. 
 
 Mr. Trist has at last, under the remonstrances of some 
 common friends, begun a kind of preparatory reconciliation, 
 
 by sending me Ins Magazine and Review. Mr. also 
 
 was the bearer of them, as he had been (I believe) the in- 
 tiamer of the quarrel. The latter convinced me, by a foolish 
 speech which he made at the moment, that neither he nor 
 Trist did it with a good w ill.
 
 MEMOIRS OF WHITAKER. 115 
 
 I had a visit from Dr. Wolcot a few weeks ago. He spent 
 an evening and took a bed with me. I liked him much. He 
 has certainly strong talents and a vigorous genius. He 
 laughed at me for supporting the Ministry, yet getting no- 
 thing from them. Turn against them, he cried, and they 
 will pension you. They pensioned him with .300 a year, 
 on the bare stipulation of silence ; then quarrelled with him 
 for not writing, and offered him the half - year then due 
 upon the pension. This he refused to accept ; and is now 
 writing a severe satire upon George Rose, of the Treasury. 
 He read me some strong, bold lines in it. I read him one or 
 two little notes in my St. Germans. And one of these, that 
 which I read to you concerning the ready patronage of merit 
 by the bishops, struck his imagination much. It even has 
 given rise, I surmise from what I hear by the way of Fowey 
 (to which town he went from this house,) to a projected satire 
 upon bishops from his pen. Such, says my Fowey intelli- 
 gence, he was there talking of writing ; and he certainly had 
 no such project in his head when he was here. 
 
 I am glad that Hannibal has at last got into winter-quar- 
 ters with you. May you like the soldier in the historian ! 
 When you are tired with him, pray turn him over to Mr. 
 James, of St. Kevern, with my kind compliments. And he 
 will remit him to you again. 
 
 With Mrs. W.'s respects to Mrs. P. and yourself, 
 1 remain, my dear Sir, 
 
 Yours and hers affectionate] y, 
 
 JOHN WH1TAKEU. 
 Tuesday, Dec. 20, 17%. 
 
 LETTER XXIII. 
 MR. WHITAKER to It. P. 
 
 Feb. 4, 1797. 
 UEAR SIR, 
 
 In my last I promised you that I would in the 
 first week of January sit down to the Essays of the Exeter 
 Society, and review them for the British Critic. But the first 
 of January arrived, ami found me still entangled in the web of 
 St. German's. Yet I had reason to hope, that in ;t day or 
 two I should still be able to perform my promise. In this 
 manner my hope dallied wi:h my pen for a week. I then
 
 116 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES. 
 
 was resolute for marching from St. German's to Exeter. 
 But I accidentally met at the moment some notices in M. 
 Paris, that I had never observed before, and that laid open 
 some unknown points of ecclesiastical antiquarianisoi. I 
 could not but notice the novelty, and could not but convey 
 it into my repository. Nor was I able to turn over the 
 essays till last week. My daughters were then on the wing 
 for their return to school ; their mother was fluttering her 
 wings to fly with them, and I was fluttering in my spirits at 
 the prepared, the actual departure of all. My wife returned , 
 my spirits rose, and on Monday I sat down seriously to 
 lash you with your anonymous associates. 
 
 The vindication of the character of Pindar I praise much. 
 The remarks on the early population of Europe I condemn 
 severely. The more remarkable British monuments in Devon, 
 I "applaud with civil leer;" or rather, condemn harshly in 
 one point, and praise moderately in the rest. The historical 
 outlines of Falconry, I censure in the reasoning, but praise 
 in the notices. A chronological essay on Ptolemy's mode 
 of computation I praise. An essay on the contraction of the 
 Iris, 1 leave to other critics. But, to leap over all the in- 
 termediate, an essay on Benevolence I praise highly ; and 
 the ode, called the Genius of Danmonium,* I at once praise 
 
 'Ruminating on the following address from that admirable 
 Classical Scholar. HATTER^ I ; conceived the first thought of 
 the ode to the Genius of Danmonium ; in which arc various al- 
 lusions to Ilayter's verses. 
 
 DANMONIUM. 
 
 " Anglia quit sole hesperio jam angusta tepescit, 
 Atque unda oceani refugit lambentis utrinque 
 Oscula, terrain olim sceptro et dilione tenebant 
 Infecti Britonum reges: his sanguine ab alto 
 C'unmerium genus Japeti,nec fabula longas 
 Mentitur circa ambages. Ibi node dieque 
 Per nemora ardebant saxosa altaribus ignes, 
 Placebatque humano obscenas hostia quercus, 
 Praado nihil metuens nocturno hyemumque procellis 
 Stramineas tecti latebras in vallinus imis 
 Incola ponebo.t, tula felicior umbra, 
 Danmonio hincilli nomen. Mox Romaferoces 
 Indigenas mansueta armis cultuque subegit. 
 Ilinc et roos,et lex, qute religionis avitse 
 Bxuit horrendas immani carmine lucos. 
 O quanta haec Britonum, fuerat si Roma superstes, 
 Gratia Deis aliter placuit namque Itala virtus 
 Dilapso tandem im perio, signisque revulsis, 
 Ipsa sibi est trepida, et perituros linquit aroicos.
 
 MEMOIRS OF WHITAKER. 1H 
 
 and cite. On the whole, I have endeavoured to act with im- 
 partial justice to every writer. Yet I wish to know, who 
 
 Dimoveat Romana acies non pignora cara 
 Aspicis ut obstantes eturnum abitura Britannos 
 Osculave aut gemitus, lachrymseve merentur euntem. 
 Turn demum fera gens septem subjecta trioni 
 Irruit, etnudatu arctni littoris oia 
 Aggrediturfacilem bene nota per aequora pracdam. 
 Nee solum avulsas dovicta Britannia plorat 
 Artesque et jura, et vinclis succurabit iniquis. 
 At ne quid demum misei andse dulce supersit 
 Autpatria;, aut una exigui solaminis umbra, 
 Ipso ethun excidit spoliato nomine laudis 
 Antiquce et rerura vestigia. Sed tamen hosti 
 Vis coeli injreniumque hominum et cum nomine virtus 
 Accepere, et gestorum baud oblita priorutn est 
 Anglia. Tu. quotmille luis perjuria, mendax 
 Gallia. tu testis, quid possint vindicedextrS. 
 Angligenz, sive Anglo-Britanni. Testislberus 
 Submisso porrtcta pavens per littora fastu. 
 Ipsa inter glaciesignotas frigoraque alta 
 Volvitur in prsceps tremefacta Borysthenis unda, 
 Et Georgi auspiciis mansuescit Sarraata victor. 
 Scilicet his patrice plus juslfi parte triumphis 
 Devonia, O telix, plusquam sociata periclis 
 Dant tibi fata frui ! Salve, O sanctissima mater, 
 Tu salve, natalis ager, foecunda virorum, 
 Tu, segetumque parens, tu diis praisentibus artes, 
 Tu siinul arma colis, fams spes magnaBritanna. 
 
 Nee te adeo taciturn Musa, O Polyele, relinquet 
 Qui prima tandem repetens ab originepandis 
 Res Danmoniacas! Stirpisobscura remotse 
 Evolvis monumenta ; soli tu viscera caca 
 Thesaurosque ima reseras tellure latentes; 
 Temperiemque doces cceli, quo cultu habituque 
 Quoquc vigetregio, renuit quid qufeque feratque 
 Aut arbusta, herbarumque aut genusomneanimantum. 
 Occultos nee te rnorum recludere fontes 
 Penituit, feu forte volenti grata Minervs 
 Devonii sua sacra ferant, seu magnus Apollo 
 Delon stepe suam dulcimutaverit IscJ. 
 Quippe et Devoniae prolemmiratur Eoam 
 Asia, et Armcniee tecum jam nacta receptos 
 Agnoscit nostro exultim subsiderenatos. 
 Mine gaudet duce tc ipse sui, ignarusque suorum, 
 Nee rursus proprios patriS. velut hospes in ipsfi, 
 Ineola perlustrat fines, et jura penatdm. 
 Tu salve precor, O merito dilecte camenis,
 
 118 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES. 
 
 is the confused contradictory remarker on Europe's early 
 population ; and on the mythology and worship of the Ser- 
 pent? He is one man obviously, the most learned fool, with 
 the semblance of wisdom, whom I ever met before. Shaks- 
 peare's fools are all wits ; but this is a fine scholar, giant-like 
 rearing- his head to the skies, and scarcely deigning to rest 
 his tip-toe on the earth. Had I not been unwilling for your 
 sake, to tell him who I was, I should have cut him for" the 
 simples with a gashing knife, on account of what he says 
 about me. 
 
 I have thus thrown off a load that had lain heavy upon 
 my mind for some months past. I love reviewing when I 
 have got into it, but 1 love not to get into it. My own 
 studies so engross mn, that I hate to relinquish them. Yet 
 surely this is wrong in one who has been a professed Re- 
 viewer so long, and is likely to be one, longer. I have lately 
 had a solicitation to engage in another Review, but declined 
 to engage because of my connections with the British. Yet 
 the British has no other claim upon me, but that of conge- 
 niality of sentiments and views. I will therefore consider 
 this offer more soberly than I have done, and may perhaps 
 be flourishing where you would least expect me. The offer 
 would have tempted a Johnson, who avowed, you know, he 
 had no other temptation to writing. Yet I do not believe 
 him. I profess, at least, to act upon very different prin- 
 ciples; to review for profit, and for consequence ; but to 
 write in my own name for consequence and praise. If i 
 can buy the books that I want for the year, at the expence 
 of reviewing for a few weeks, I obtain all that I want, ex- 
 cept the pleasure of praising the meritorious, and of scourg- 
 ing the coxcomb or the fool. 
 
 When I was last at Falmouth, I met there Dr. - ; but 
 
 so, I recollect, I told you in rny last. Have you read, let 
 me therefore ask, Burke's pamphlet on a Regicide Peace ? 
 I have read it twice, with wonderful pleasure. It has all 
 the fervour, all the fancy, of his best of days. It has a rapid 
 sale ; mine is the eleventh edition. And it will therefore 
 have an electrical effect upon the spirits of the nation. May 
 it have all the effect there, that it has had upon me ; pre- 
 
 Tu salfe ! Nee te tristis malataedia curie, 
 Insomnisque labor, nee TELUM IM BELLE MIXACIS 
 TERREAT INVIDI;E: tibi circum tempera lauri 
 Vis teget intactos farnce crescentis honores. 
 
 J. HATTER, 179i.
 
 MEMOIRS OF \\HITAKER. 119 
 
 viously thinking with him in general, yet willing to believe 
 that the King's Ministers were better judges than myself, anil 
 now convinced they humbled their King and their Country 
 too much in stooping to sue for peace. 
 
 Your friend and servant, 
 
 JOHNWHITAKER. 
 
 LETTER XXIV. 
 J. W. to R. P. 
 
 Wednesday, July 26, 1797. 
 DEAR SIR, 
 
 I received your present of the Sketches onThursdav 
 last, and your letter on the Sunday following. For both I 
 thank, you, but especially for the former. The poetry and 
 the prose I admire, yet the prose, I think better than the 
 poetry. Such is the effect, that a habit of reasoning has upon 
 the mind ! I had heard some indistinct hum from those who 
 are ready to pull down authors, because they cannot become 
 authors themselves ; of your essay on spirits. Yet they 
 could not tell me, and I could not guess by myself, in what 
 form or manner you had written about spirits. Some how- 
 ever laughed, who could not reason ; and I was obliged to 
 suspend my opinion, till I could hear further. Your present 
 lias enabled me to do more than hear, to read, to approve, and 
 to applaud. What you have written is in my opinion at once 
 scriptural and rational. 
 
 1 had however seen the British Critic, before I received 
 your present. This had informed me in general, of the con- 
 tents of your elegant volume. It had particularly announced 
 to me, your sonnet addressed tome; and announced it with an 
 eulogimu, that startled me. But, till I received the Sketches, 
 1 supposed your compliment was paid in the usual manner to 
 my head. I was agreeably undeceived on the receipt, to find 
 it was paid to a much better part. I did not however under- 
 stand your allusion at first, even till my wife's soberer ge- 
 nius reminded me of a fact. For your compliment on that 
 f;ict, for y>i>r general compliment to my heart, and for your 
 concluding wish so honourable to me; I feel myself much in- 
 debted to you. May our friendship be as lasting, as it is 
 H HI rn '. 
 
 I urn jlul voullkcd the review of thi- Exeter Essavs. liv
 
 120 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES, 
 
 the British Critic of last month you have already learnt, that 
 the essayist on the population of Europe has written an angry 
 letter to the reviewer, and that the reviewer has answered it 
 with spirit. The essayist is not Dr. Downman, I hope, as 
 (amid much genius and much erudition) he is weak in mind 
 and confused in judgment. But, what is more astonishing 
 than all the rest, he plainly points at you as the reviewer ; 
 though many compliments were paid him, and though one of 
 your pieces was slightly blamed. Conscious that he had of- 
 fended you, whoever he is, he thought you was now retaliat- 
 ing upon him. I therefore saw myself obliged, to free you 
 in as peremptory a tone as I could use under the existing cir- 
 cumstances, from all suspicion of being the writer. 
 
 lu my last, short and hasty as it was, I believe I hinted to 
 you my writing the two articles on Bryant's Plain of Troy, 
 not that on Bryant's denial of Troy's existence. I was par- 
 ticularly desired to review that, and to make a strong article 
 of it. I sat to work therefore with eagerness, soon caught 
 fire with my own movements, and at last found myself inclin- 
 ed to blaze away in a pamphlet. What I had written, I could 
 easily have dilated with some remarks that I had in reserve, 
 into such a publication with my name to it. I should thus 
 have gotten more money and some fame. I should have ap- 
 peared in a new walk of literature, and have acquired an ad- 
 dition of credit as an author. These reasons staggered me for 
 a moment. But honour set me steady again. That honour, 
 which cannot "set a leg," set me firm upon my legs. I had 
 engaged to review the work, and I could not retract with ho- 
 nour. I therefore sent my paper to the British Critic, and 
 only mentioned the temptation as I proved I had overcome 
 it. "lhadbeen much delighted in writing the articles, but I \vas 
 more on the acknowledgment of their receipt in London. The 
 acknowledgment was very complimentary indeed. And to 
 their sense of my honourable conduct do I attribute in some 
 measure, their compliment to me, in reviewing your sketches, 
 perhaps their speed in reviewing them so quickly. 
 
 Last winter an offer was made me, of writing for a rival 
 Review. I instantly replied, that I was engaged to the B.C. 
 The offer, however, was a handsome one, a third higher in 
 rate than what I used to require from the English. This 
 therefore put Mrs. \V., who knows the value of money in ;t 
 family of children, upon advising me, not indeed to desert 
 the B. Critic, but to require as good terms from the latter as 
 the former had offered me. 1 thought the suggestion very 
 reasonable, and followed it. Hitherto I had written for the
 
 MEMOIRS OF WHITAKER. 121 
 
 B. C. without one farthing of a fee ; and with only the deten- 
 tion of the books sent, when books were sent, as frequently 
 they were not. I had thus acted for four years, and therefore 
 thought I had contributed my full share o'f assistance to the 
 support of the Review. The answer returned was exceed- 
 ingly complimentary, begging I would not leave them, apo- 
 logizing for not offering T>efore to pay me, and offering to 
 give me even one fourth more than what the other Review 
 had offered. They even laid open to me all the secrets of 
 their management, their expenditure, sale, and profits. I 
 found therefore, that they could very well afford to pay me ; 
 and I replied, that I would not leave them, yet they should 
 pay me only what the other Review had offered. I have ac- 
 cordingly reviewed, and shall review, several books for them. 
 I am waiting only at present, to finish my own work about 
 St. German's ; before I resume my reviewing pen. 
 
 That work I am now revising a second time, finally for 
 the press. I have been particularly un-burdening a cum- 
 bersome appendix, of a part of its load. I have thrown out 
 a dissertation upon St. Neot. I have also cut off the antient 
 Valors for benefices in Cornwall. These I design for two 
 separate publications hereafter. The latter has many notes 
 and some dissertations; while the former is a regular history, 
 or rather a regularly historical disquisition. With both these 
 abscissions, however, the survey of St. German's will be more 
 than 500 folio pages in my writing. In that extent I mean 
 it to set out on its travels to London, by the middle or end of 
 September. When it has passed through the press, I will 
 take care to send you an early copy. 
 
 I am expecting Dr. Wolcot down at my house, for a week 
 this long vacation. We correspond a little, and shall more. 
 I beg to hear from you soon, and in a letter not half a sheet 
 in size, but a whole and a large sheet. And let me receive 
 your letter to-morrow fortnight at Falmouth, as I shall be 
 there in Mr. Gwennap's house for a few days that week. 
 To-morrow I shall put this letter into some market-hand at 
 Falmouth, for you ; as I am then going with my daughters to 
 school, and return the same day. Mrs. W. is so ill with the 
 remains of an erysipelas, as not to be able to go. My eldest 
 daughter is now freed from school. With Mrs. W.'s respects 
 to Mrs. P. 
 
 I remain, Dear Sir, 
 
 Hers and yours affectionately, 
 
 JOHN WHITAKEIl'
 
 122 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES. 
 
 LETTER XXV. 
 J. WHITAKER to R. P. 
 
 Sept. 30, 1797. 
 MY DEAR SIR, 
 
 Till this moment I have not had leisure or inclination, and 
 inclination frequently creates leisure, to read over with care 
 your obliging communications in your last. I have had 
 cares and anxieties, and terrors, that you un-farming divines 
 can hardly conceive. I have been out early and late, urging 
 on the tedious work of the harvest. I have been beaten 
 out of my fields and beaten out of my new hay, by the de- 
 scending rains. I have twice despaired of saving my corn ; 
 yet I have saved it, thank God, very happily. My hops 
 alone have suffered, and are suffering now ; but they form 
 only an inconsiderable object in my plan of farming. 
 
 1 have been just penising your poetical essay on the 
 origin of the Blank-verse Sonnet, for the second time ; my 
 first was a hasty one, upon its first arrival. I like it much, 
 and advise you to follow up your intention of publishing 
 it Your " Sonnet in Blank-verse," I particularly admire : 
 it is a choice piece of poetical landscape-painting, short in 
 itself, but vividly picturesque, and happily moralizing at 
 the close. Your Jeu & Esprit also gave me great plea- 
 sure of a lower kind, indeed, yet great in ridicule. JVlany 
 touches I lose of course, by my ignorance of characteVs and 
 names. 
 
 But now to business. It will always give me particular 
 pleasure if I can serve you. I have therefore wished ever 
 since 1 received yours', for leisure to write to the manager 
 of the British Critic upon your offer. I would not write to 
 the rival Review, because I would not have you, willingly, 
 against us. But 1 will write by this post to London, and 
 urge your offer upon the British Critic. No urgency, in- 
 deed, will be requisite, unless a writer in that department 
 is already engaged by the manager. But I apprehend from 
 all my experience with the Review, that no one person is 
 engaged regularly and invariably for any one department. 
 I shall speak of you as a Critic for poetry and for essays. 
 Yet they, and all the literary world, know your general 
 abilities as well as I do. I need, therefore, to mention only 
 your ofier, and I think it will he accepted with readiness. 
 
 Your friend, 
 
 J. W.
 
 MEMOIRS OF WHITAKER. 123 
 
 LETTER XXVI. 
 MR. WHITAKER to J. H. Esq.* 
 
 Sept. 1797. 
 DEAR SIR, 
 
 " I was not able to read over your work on Predestina- 
 tion before this day. 1 then sat down to it, turned down 
 leaves in abundance as I read, and meant to have refuted it 
 from end to end ; but I find my time too short for a course 
 so long ; I therefore throw aside what I had begun to write, 
 and shall only make two or three observations in general 
 upon it. The doctrine of eternal election and reprobation, 
 comes with such a sound to the ears of even uneducated 
 reason, that the mind receives it with aversion, and dwells 
 upon it with increasing disgust. The doctrine indeed, is so 
 pregnant with consequences both to God and to man, that 
 nothing in the whole circle of demonstrations could pos- 
 sibly prove it. Not an angel speaking it from Heaven 
 could possibly reconcile the intellect of man to the belief of 
 it. If a decree has been made for the absolute salvation or 
 damnation of any man, then all other modes and means are 
 utterly useless, the Redemption itself is a nullity, and the 
 Bible a mere mockery. 
 
 " Nor is the case mended, even if we take the only no- 
 vel ty that occurs in this book, and extend the decree of 
 salvation into a decree also of religiousness. The same ob- 
 jection still remains in full force. The religiousness that is 
 decreed, cannot possibly be religiousness at all. But sin 
 must also be decreed upon the same principle, in order 
 to carry the decree of damnation into effect. And as a rule 
 of action given from Heaven is an errant superfluity in it- 
 self, if a decree determines at once the religiousness or sin- 
 fulness of the party; so all the calls of God, frequent as 
 they are in Scripture, to repent and be saved, are adding in- 
 sult to injury on the heads of the already reprobated. 
 
 *' The doctrine, indeed, is so horrible in itself, so blas- 
 phemous to God, and so noxious to man, that the Lutherans 
 have justly reproached the Calvinists with turning God 
 into a devil by it. 
 
 * About this time, Whitaker was engaged in a correspond- 
 ence with J. Haringlon, Esq. (son of Dr. Harington, of 
 Bath) on various literary and theological subjects. With 
 respect to theology, Mr. Harington had the goodness to com- 
 municate to me the above curious letter.
 
 124 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES. 
 
 " What then, you will ask, is to be done with the pas- 
 sages in Scripture, that seem to announce such a doctrine ? 
 The same, I answer, that has been always done by them 
 among the great body of Christians ; by interpreting them 
 with latitude, by understanding them to mean any thing (I 
 had almost said) rather than this, and by keeping their 
 meaning at least within such bounds as shall not render the 
 very book in which they are found, a mere cipher. 
 
 " This may seem to give too free a rein to interpretations 
 merely human. I will therefore exemplify the proper, the 
 necessary use of it. ' All things shall work together for 
 good to them that love God.' ' All things.' would a rea- 
 der, reasoning like a Calvinist, repeat, and therefore Sin 
 itself. He would thus turn a single sentence of the Scrip- 
 tures against all the rest, and annihilate every promise, 
 every threat, every exhortation against sin. 
 
 " This shews you, as in a mirror, the necessity of re- 
 curring to such interpretations of single passages, as re- 
 concile them with the whole, and carry on one regular 
 systematic plan with all, for the rescue of a fallen world 
 from sin and destruction. 
 
 " And I subscribe myself in haste, dear Sir, yours, 
 
 J. WHITAKER." 
 
 LETTER XXVI 1. 
 J. W. to R. P. 
 
 Monday, Oct. 16, 1/97. 
 DEAR SIR, 
 
 Some days before I received your last from the 
 post-office of Penryn, I had sent you what was a full answer 
 by anticipation to it, and was to go by the marketers of 
 Manaccan from Falmouth. In it I inclosed also your 
 papers, and I informed you, that I had written to the ma- 
 nager of the B. C. upon the subject which you had men- 
 tioned. I am now to inform you, that 1 have received the 
 following answer. " With the highest respect for the cha- 
 racter of Mr. P.," says the manager to me, " I cannot but 
 " fear, that it is wholly out of our power to find him any 
 " employment that may be worthy of his acceptance. With 
 *' critics competent and willing to give a very good account 
 " of poetry, or any thing connected with belles lettres, we
 
 MEMOIRS OF WHITAKER. 125 
 
 ' are amply stocked. If there are any matters of more 
 1 peculiar and difficult research, which he is competent and 
 ' willing to undertake ; we might indeed be ahle to employ 
 ' him. But otherwise I do not see, how such a plan could 
 ' be made to answer to either party. I am much obliged, 
 ' however, to you for the proposal, and should certainly 
 ' pay every attention to any suggestion from you, with 
 which it was practicable for me to comply." 
 
 I am afraid I hurt my own application for you, by spe- 
 cifying your critical excellency in Poetry and in Essays. 
 Yet I specified these as the strongholds of your character. 
 But in these, it seems, the Review is " amply stocked." The 
 manager however, asks in effect, if " there are any matters 
 " of more peculiar and difficult research," which you would 
 undertake to review. You must suggest to me, what I 
 shall say in reply. But suggest it by the post, as all trans* 
 mission privately from Falmouth is uncertain and tedious. 
 
 From the manner, in which the B. C. turned off" your 
 compliment to Nares, in your sonnet below your text ; I 
 suspect Nares himself to be the reviewer of poetry. 
 
 I write in haste, as I am preparing to embark for Fal- 
 mouth, and shall take this note or letter with me. There I 
 hope to hear from you, and to add a few lines to this. 
 
 It will give me a very sensible pleasure, to be capable of 
 serving you. Let me, therefore, suggest one thing to you. 
 A late report, which was false, impressed it strongly upon, 
 my mind. Mr. Pye of Truro was reported to be dead. The 
 living is in the gift of Lord Mount Edgecumbe and Lord 
 Mount Edgecumbe is your relation. The idea prevailing 
 here is this, that Charles Ilashleigh, as agent for my Lord's 
 boroughs, will have the bestowal of this living. Yet, as 
 rny Lord makes no pretensions to the borough, this agent 
 c,in have no claim to the patronage. Think of this, Dear 
 Sir. It wtmld bring you into my neighbourhood ; a cir- 
 cumstance, for which 1 wish much, as being with Mrs. W.'s 
 respects to Mrs. P. 
 
 Dear Sir, your friend and servant, 
 J. WHITAKER. 
 
 Nov. I, 1797. 
 
 P. S. My letter was mislaid. I now open it, to say, 
 that yesterday I received a letter from Mr. Swetc of" Oxton 
 House, near Exeter," remonstrating with me on my sup- 
 posed review of his essay in the essays by a society of gentle- 
 men ;it Exeter. " By mere accident," he says, " it was
 
 126 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES. 
 
 discovered at the Bishop's table, a week or two since," 
 that I was the reviewer. Conjecture had previously fixed 
 upon me, he remarks, but now the crime is too plain. " The 
 " opinion I had entertained of Mr. W. from a repeated 
 " perusal of his publications, gave me much higher con- 
 " ceptions of his erudition, candour, and urbanity, than 
 ' seemed to be possessed by the author of the critique, and 
 " it was with the utmost reluctance, that at length I suffered 
 " myself to be persuaded that it absolutely originated in 
 " him." Does not the gentleman make a fine bow, before 
 he advances to close combat ? But he makes a still finer 
 just afterwards. " For I will ingenuously own to you, that 
 " your whole character, as a man of letters, a gentleman, 
 ' and a Christian, had placed you so high in my estimation, 
 " that I was loth to have the charm burst, and to find that 
 " a part at least of this appreciation," a choice word this ! 
 " was ideal." He then draws on his white gloves, and 
 pulls out his maiden sword, for a bloodless encounter. Yet 
 he flourishes with his sword, and seems to admire the 
 glitter of it for the feint. At the close he makes this des- 
 perate lunge at me. " But I have done, and I beg leave to 
 " assure you, that what I have thus done, has been more 
 " to express to you the regret I have felt, in your having 
 so much descended from the exalted height of your 
 literary character," (did ever feather strike more softly ?), 
 as to censure a club of Essayists, and to endeavour by 
 your thunderbolts of criticism to annihilate it, than to 
 show you that I have been hurt by your strictures." 
 Poor man ! He has not been hurt at all, at all ; though he 
 M-riggles so, like an eel under the murdering knife. But 
 lie takes more courage at last; speaking of " those who, 
 though their brows have been wreathed by Fame" ' quaesitam 
 mentis,' " yet have prostituted their genius and learning 
 " to satire and anonymous criticism." There is. a dash of 
 boldness for you. But he gives me another instantly. 
 ' ; It would have given me considerable pleasure," he finally 
 says, " if (what icith sincerity I could lately have done) 
 " I now could subscribe myself with respect, your obedient 
 " servant, John Swete." 
 
 What therefore shall I say or do to this sweet gentleman ? 
 To go to fisty-cuffs with this dish of whipt cream, I cannot 
 condescend. I will therefore turn him over to you, I think. 
 Tell him I am sorry too much vinegar was put into the bowl, 
 but your hand dastied it in. 
 
 In sober sadness, 1 am sorry he is hurt. His feelings
 
 MEMOIRS OF WHITAKER. 127 
 
 are too acute, and my lancet was too rough. I feel for him, 
 because I see he feels for himself. But I shall not answer 
 his letter, for that very reason. 
 
 The intelligence, however, will be nuts and almonds to 
 you. He was one of your principal adversaries in the club, 
 1 think. And I have revenged your cause by my pen. 
 
 LETTER XXVIII. 
 
 J, W. to R. P. 
 
 DEAR SIR, 
 
 Your letter found me in the midst of embarrass- 
 ments, that claimed all my attention at this moment, and 
 left me unfit for correspondence at the end. I liave been 
 obliged to put my only brother, an attorney, into chancery ; 
 and now iind myself compelled to refute his answer there, 
 by examining his own letters to me. In this investigation 
 I have been successful enough, however distressing it was 
 to me, and however I feel the painful sensation from it still 
 hanging upon my nerves. 
 
 Before this time, !iowever, I suppose the parcel from Mr. 
 Nares has reached your hands. To have had it conveyed 
 with one to me, and then transmitted by me to you by our 
 market people, as you propose, would have been imprac- 
 ticable in itself. The parcel had most probably set off, 
 before you wrote. Even had it not, I did not know when 
 I might desire to have a parcel for myself. Even had I 
 known, I could not have sent you your part of it by any 
 certain conveyance from hence. We have no market people 
 going to Falmouth. We send only by a boat, that may 
 chance to go, or by our servant man, that we may chance to 
 send. To-morrow fortnight we thus propose to go our- 
 selves, and that day fortnight we thus intend to send. 
 
 I sent away my manuscript of St. German's four months 
 ago, yet have not received u line from the bookseller about 
 it. I imprudently took a recommendation, diverted from 
 the man that I meant to select, and went to one who is too 
 busy to do business. He promised my recommender, a 
 month ago, to write by that post; and has never written yet. 
 But I bopi this week to rectify my mistake, and to recover 
 my proper path. 
 
 1 have had a f-esh application, and from another Review, 
 to engage in writing. This was a Review, from which I 
 less expected such an application than from the former.
 
 12S BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES. 
 
 The Review has been particularly opposed to my principles 
 and me. And I was solicited expressly to write, as an 
 Antiquary and Historian. 
 
 Do you know the exact fate of the English Review? If 
 not, I can perhaps tell you. Dr. Thomson formed an 
 union between his and the' Analytical Review. He writes 
 the Political Reflections at the end, as he used to write 
 before. And the two booksellers of the English are tacked 
 to the bookseller of the Analytical. I think that Thomson 
 should have carried you with him into the latter. But 
 perhaps you would not go. 
 
 I have just planned a new work, a small one, under no 
 very promising title, and calculated for the bonhommes 
 of Cornwall ; " The Valors of Cornwall with notes and 
 " dissertations." I mean it to embrace all that I have 
 written or shall write, of matters merely local ; with many 
 openings, however, to the general history of the island. For 
 such a work I have ample materials provided, I think ; and 
 hope I shall be able to shape them into form, in the course of 
 a few months. And then I long to begin my military 
 History of the Romans in Britain, with all my powers col- 
 lected to a point. 
 
 I have lately been re-perusing your last publication, the 
 Sketches, with new pleasure. I then saw allusions and 
 felt strokes, that I neither felt nor saw before. Your T. T. 
 and your V. I now recognize with much satisfaction. You 
 think and you write well in both those characters ; and you 
 wished very reasonably, I believe, to make those shrink 
 under your lancet who had behaved with impertinenceto you. 
 
 But I am wasting your time and my own. I therefore 
 hasten to send Mrs. W.'s compliments to Mrs. P., and to 
 subscribe myself, 
 
 Dear Sir, 
 
 Your friend and servant, 
 
 JOHN WHIT AKER. 
 Monday, March 12, 1798. 
 
 LETTER XXIX. 
 J. W. to R. P. 
 
 Mr DEAR SIR, 
 
 I could not possibly answer your late favour, as 
 desired, " by the return of the post," even if my own 
 
 you
 
 MEMOIRS OF WHITAKER. 129 
 
 business would have permitted me, to lay it all aside for so 
 sudden a call. But the weather was too bad to allow my hu- 
 manity to send a servant through such snows three miles to 
 the office. And I knew what I hinted in my last, that we 
 meant to be at Falmouth ourselves next week. This meaning 
 has indeed been altered, in consequence of that weather, and 
 in consequence of the relapse of my youngest daughter. We 
 fetched her home last November, through turbulent seas ; 
 we had the pleasure of seeing her recover, under our domestic 
 management ; but we have the mortification at present, to 
 find her falling back again. Her we meant to have taken to 
 school, next week ; and are now obliged to defer her return, 
 for a few weeks, even till the weather becomes much warmer. 
 We therefore send our man to-morrow, to carry some provi- 
 sions to our second daughter there, to bring home two an- 
 kers of brandy that have been some time purchased for us 
 at the Custom-house, and to take this letter for one of your 
 market-women. 
 
 ****** 
 
 You have so often entered the lists, so often ran over the 
 course and so often borne away the prize ; that I cannot but 
 think you degrade yourself, by carrying the flutters of boy- 
 hood into the experience of manhood. At least I can safely 
 say for myself, that, whatever I felt at my first publication, I 
 feel no longer the solicitudes that you seem to feel so exqui- 
 sitely. I have no apathy indeed, but I have a concern mode- 
 rated and subdued. My pride buoys me up above fear, above 
 acknowledged fear at least. And I refused when my book- 
 seller advised, to ask Mr. Trist to review my Arianism in 
 the English. I even pretended not to understand him, when 
 he offered himself ; and, in consequence of both, he mixed 
 some pert censures with his praises. Yet I would rather have 
 encountered more of his censures, than have asked or permit- 
 ted him to do, what I did not want and he could not perform. 
 
 Your account of not having yet received either a letter or 
 a parcel from Mr. Nares surprises me much. After his ex- 
 press promise, I had no idea of his receding. And 1 should 
 rather suspect the promise to have slipped his memory, as 
 lately slipped one to me, about making an extract from a 
 manuscript in the B. Museum. Yet sucn a slip as yours is 
 rather of a magnitude greater than mine. But he has now 
 delayed for three weeks past, to acknowledge the receipt of 
 a large packet from me. I begin to be anxious about the 
 fate of this, as I have no copy of it, and it covered several 
 pages in folio. But he is engaged very busily, I suppose, in
 
 130 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES. 
 
 making the extract that had been neglected before, and in pre- 
 paring this month's complement for the press. 
 
 The packet, which I sent Mr. N. lately, was a review of 
 Pinkerton's History of Scotland 2 vols. quarto. This, my old 
 antagonist, I have treated with great generosity. I have 
 blamed him, where he merited blame ; and I have praised 
 him, whenever I could. But, upon the whole, I have praised 
 him much ; though I have reason to believe, that he is not 
 now at least what I used to think him, the historical writer in 
 the Critical Review. This work, and Bryant's Philo Judaeus 
 are the only pieces that I have reviewed lately. But 1 mean to 
 review several soon ; as, like you, I have from pride or pa- 
 triotism, or both, declined to reduce the sum of my triple as- 
 sessment, by an appeal upon the ground of income. I hope 
 indeed to settle soon my differences with my brother, and so 
 recover possession of my own estate ; remaining in that hope, 
 my dear Sir, and with Mrs. W.'s respects as well as my own 
 to Mrs. P. your affectionate 
 
 Friend and servant, 
 
 JOHN WHITAKER. 
 Thursday, March 22, 179S. 
 
 LETTER XXX. 
 
 J. W. to R. P. 
 
 DEAR SIR, 
 
 I wrote to you a few days ago, by rr.y man going 
 to Falmouth. I then told you, that I expected to hear from 
 Mr. Nares the next morning. I did not hear, however, till 
 yesterday morning. Mr. Nares then "confirmed what I sug- 
 gested in my last, that his delay in sending the parcel to 
 yon was merely the result of his being over-busy. " I have 
 " not yet been able," he says concerning you, " to set apart 
 " any books for his revision ; but I expect ere long to re- 
 " ceive a fresh supply, when 1 will endeavour to make due 
 " provision for him and for you." 
 
 He also adds, what anticipates any application from me 
 about reviewing your new publications. " I have received 
 " from Mr. Polwhele," he writes, " a thin volume contain- 
 " ing a part of his History of Devonshire : if he wishes 
 ' this to be reviewed before the rest of the volume appears, 
 " (which will not be quite regular, according to our general 
 " practice) you perhaps will be kind enough to undertake
 
 MEMOIRS OF WHITAKER. 131 
 
 " it." I shall write to him in a few days, and agree to this ; 
 remaining in great haste and with best wishes, 
 My dear Sir, 
 
 Your friend and servant, 
 
 JOHN WHITAKER. 
 Saturday, March 31, 1798. 
 
 LETTER XXXI. 
 J. W. to R. P. 
 
 DEAR SIR, 
 
 I was glad to see your letter, and I shall be glad to 
 see your person. On Thursday the 1st of November I trust 
 to be at home with all my family. I mean however to set 
 out this morning for Falmouth by land, together with Mrs. 
 \V. We meant to have gone by water ; but the rough winds 
 that still prevail prevent us. We are going to fetch home our 
 two youngest daughters from school finally, and our eldest 
 from a visit. But for this purpose we must have a boat, and 
 when the weather will permit a boat, we cannot say. As 
 I propose to send you this from Falmouth, your receipt of it 
 will assure you of our arrival there. And this morning, in 
 the next week, I intend to send you a letter, by a private 
 hand ; to announce to you our safe return, and to tell you 
 how happy we shall all be to see you ; especially, 
 
 Dear Sir, 
 Your Friend and Servant, 
 
 JOHN WHITAKER. 
 
 Mrs. W. sends her respects to Mrs. P. and you. 
 
 I shall direct my letter on Monday next, to you at your 
 mother's. 
 Monday Morning Oct. 22, 1798. 
 
 LETTER XXXI I. 
 
 J. W. to U. P. 
 
 DEAR Sin, 
 
 1 sent you a letter from Falmouth last week, to 
 tell you I wus then there, but hoped to be at home before 
 this day; and to assure you, if I reached home, you should
 
 132 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES. 
 
 hear from me again by a letter addressed to you at your 
 mother's. This promise I now fulfil, having been detained 
 at Falmouth by the weather till yesterday ; But having then 
 returned with all my family by water. And I just proceed 
 to tell you, that I shall be nappy to see you here on Thurs- 
 day next for the whole day, and that I shall take care to 
 keep up the day in store for vou alone; remaining with the 
 respects of Mrs. W. and all my three daughters to Mrs. 
 Pohvhele, 
 
 Dear Sir, her and your 
 Friend and servant, 
 
 JOHN WH1TAKER. 
 Sunday Evening, Oct. 28, 1/98. 
 
 LETTER XXXIII. 
 J. W. to R. P. 
 
 DEAR SIR, 
 
 I have at last found leisure from business of a dis- 
 agreeable nature, that yet demanded all myattention, as being 
 a suit in chancery with my only brother, and him a lawyer 
 too ; to read over your papers manuscript or printed. And I 
 thank you for the perusal of all. 
 
 Your " Letter to a College Friend" already printed, and 
 your postscript to it in manuscript, I have read with parti- 
 cular attention, because of the dispute with the Doctors 
 Downman and Parr. The Archdeacon (you told me) dis- 
 suaded you from publishing either ; 
 
 And Brutus is an honourable roan. 
 
 The Archdeacon is undoubtedly a very prudent man, and 
 could not well with such a character give any other advice. 
 He is also connected with the very persons attacked, by oc- 
 casional meetings, occasional conversations, and occasional 
 friendlinesses. And he (as I have always suspected) was 
 the person that informed Mr. Swete at the Bishop's table, 
 of my writing the review of the Exeter Essays in the British 
 Critic. The Archdeacon himself inferred this, I suppose, 
 from my conversation once at Dr. Cardew's, or perhaps was 
 told so by the Doctor privately, from my own acknowledge- 
 ment to the Doctor. But, from Mr. Swete's manner of 
 mentioning the information, I fancy that the Archdeacon 
 Biade the information in an invidious manner. But, whether
 
 MEMOIRS OF WHfTAKER. 133 
 
 he did so or not, or whether he gave the information or not, 
 1 care little. Only, if he did, he would be sure to advise the 
 suppression. And, with a spirit just opposite to his, I ad- 
 vise you to publish both. You will find too, I suspect, that 
 Mr. Swete, in his timidity at chastisement received and 
 /eared, has told what is not true; and lie will thus be pro- 
 perly exposed by your publication. Publish, and I will re- 
 view; ready to acknowledge my part, and willing to confront 
 
 them all. 
 
 ** 
 
 Your poem, " The Vmsexed Females, "is written much in the 
 style of the author to whom it is addressed ; the poetry a peg 
 for the prose. But the poetry is good, and the prose is ne- 
 cessary. The design of both, however, demands praise of a 
 higher .quality than what the execution can claim. It is of 
 an exalted nature, calculated for the best interests of society, 
 and sure to promote tlie best of causes religion. 1 like all 
 very much; and would have urged the publication, if you 
 had not already begun to print, and had not inserted a com- 
 pliment to me in the manuscript. 
 
 Both these manuscripts, with the printed page of one, I 
 return you by my man, who is going to Falmouth, and will 
 leave it all with Mr. Gwennap for one of your parishioners 
 on Saturday. 
 
 I have read also your discourse on two melancholy events, 
 and like it well. But I am most agreeably surprized at your 
 <l Old English Gentleman." This is in a style of composition 
 new to you, comick and humourous. The man of obser- 
 vation, the keen character! zer, the antiquary, and the poet, 
 are happily blended together. Some of your antiquarian 
 touches, the Arish note, the Geete-danct note, I shall contest 
 with you. But many strokes of humourous portraiture^ I 
 suspect, are taken from real life, from existing characters 
 in your ancestors or your cotemporaries. Some you ex- 
 pressly attribute to the latter ; and others have so much of 
 particularity in them, as to shew they are derived from the 
 same source. 
 
 On the whole I stand surprized at the versatility of roar 
 talents, and the range of your publications. But should not 
 you give the name of Mr. H. at full length, like that of 
 "Downman, Parr, and Swete? I think you should; as even 
 I do not know who is meant by that initial letter except 
 Mr. Hole. The orators in your society, indeed, had best 
 be kept as you have given them, under general descriptions 
 r allusi' e* names ; as their speeches ere only flourishes of
 
 134 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES. 
 
 the muse, fiat in all real actions, I think, real names should 
 be given. 
 
 Since I had the pleasure of seeing you here, I hare heard 
 from Mr. Nares. But his letter was written only to tell me, 
 that two publications, which I had very lately offered to 
 review, Dallaway's account of Constantinople and Morrit's 
 answer to Bryant on the Troade, had been already reviewed ; 
 the former even were printed a few months ago, the latter 
 in M. S. now ready for printing. He seems afraid of my 
 going off to a rival review. En passant, what makes yon 
 think Dr. Parr writes in the Critical? I was offered a part 
 in it, but declined to take it. Dr. Thomson now writes in 
 the Analytical ; writes at least the Epilogue on Politicks, and 
 assuredly many articles. He is a believer, whatever the sub- 
 ordinates may'be. 
 
 I beg to hear, that you have received yonr manuscripts 
 safe; and with every good wish for your happiness, and 
 Mrs. W.'s respects to Mrs. P., remain 
 
 Your assured Friend, 
 JOHN WHITAKER. 
 
 LETTER XXXIV. 
 
 J, WHITAKER to R. P. 
 
 Feb. 14, 1799. 
 MY DEAR SIR, 
 
 When I had the pleasure to see you at this house, from 
 the shortness of your stay and the company of other visitors I 
 forgot to tell you, that I had resolved, in consequence of 
 your request so repeatedly made, to review your " First 
 Part" for the * British Critic," and had agreed with the 
 manager to take only the historical half, leaving the physi- 
 cal to some other person. 
 
 I have now executed the plan ; but I found some difficulty 
 in doing this. I wished, of course, to notice such passages 
 alone as would do most justice to my own feelings, and do 
 most honour to your name. I have accordingly noticed se- 
 reral. Yet the Armenianism of your opinions compelled 
 me, at times, to blame ; though only to blame with the 
 tongue of a friend. And your adoption of some of Bor- 
 lase's reveries, about rock-idols, rock-basons, &c. which, 
 indeed, all our brethren of the antiquarian familyTiave equally
 
 MEMOIRS OF WHITAKER. 135 
 
 adopted, but which I had' previously refuted, I think, in my 
 review of the twelfth volume of the Archaeologia, obliged me 
 gently to notice them. I evera went the more willingly into 
 those slight censures, because I had formed a design in your 
 favour, which: I thought such censures would greatly 
 strengthen;. At the close I cite some passages, that plainly 
 point at Sir G. Yonge's failure in patronizing you, and the 
 insufficient encouragement which you have received from the 
 gentry of Devonshire in general; and I take the liberty to 
 add, that, if the gentleman particularly meant, if the gentry 
 in general, suffer you to pursue the History at a loss, which 
 I understand you will incur, of several hundred pounds, it 
 will reflect eternal disgrace upon him and them. For this 
 bold declaration, so- probably useful to you, so certainly (I 
 believe) necessary for you, I take upon ine to be answerable. 
 1 will avow it if requisite. Nor have I suffered you to know 
 anv thing of it till it is done, gone to London, and half 
 printed, perhaps, b v this time. If it serves you, I shall have 
 an ample reward. If it docs not, I shall have attempted to 
 do what I feel myself warmly inclined to do at all times to 
 promote your reputation, and to further your interest. 
 
 Whether my article on your Devonshire will be actually 
 published at the end of this month, I do not certainly know; 
 my critique on the Archaeologia undoubtedly will. The first 
 half will make the first article of this month ; and the other 
 half the first of the next. In both, as far as I now remember, 
 they having been gone these six weeks, I have attacked se. 
 veral notions to which our Borlase first gave circulation, 
 concerning Druidical monuments. I have particularly ex- 
 posed Mr. Haytnan Rooke's account of some in Derbyshire, 
 Sec. But I squint in my views of him, much at your friend 
 Mr. S. The views and the squint, 1 doubt not, will excite 
 the attention and inflame the hearts of some. But I care not. 
 I close with exposing Mr. Rashleigh, of Menabilly, about 
 his Druidical book ; and Mr. Gough comes in with him for a 
 castigation. 
 
 * 
 
 Your friend, 
 
 JOHN WHITAKER.
 
 136 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES. 
 
 LETTER XXXV. 
 
 ,-\\\ :.!.<,!/'. o, {)">; 'i;t:' ^'jv Hi': ' ' .' 
 J. Will TAKER to R. P. 
 
 " jv ilt fy:- ' ? .f'srr-:" i 
 
 .1% 7, 
 MY DEAR FRIEND, 
 
 With your letter of April 8, I received your Un- 
 sexed Females. I had read it with pleasure before, and 1 
 re-read it with satisfaction now. I wished immediately to 
 review it. But the hour of sickness was not calculated for 
 the work ; nor could I go to the work as soon as the sickness 
 left me last week at liberty for it. I had Jhad a publication 
 on my shelf these four months, which I' had promised, and 
 yet did not like to review. It was a singular production : 
 " Specimens and Parts, containing a History of the County 
 of Kent, and a Dissertation on the Laws, from the Reign of 
 Edward the Confessor to Edward the First by Samuel Hen- 
 shall, Clerk, M. A. Fellow of Brazennose College, Oxford." 
 This undertaking- was so magnificent in itself and dealt in 
 erudition so extraneous to all my own, that F dreaded to exe- 
 cute my promise. Last week, however,, 1 engaged in the 
 business, found it much more agreeable than I expected, and 
 finished it much more quickly than I had even hoped'. 
 
 When this was done, on Saturday, I sat down, to your 
 " Letter to a College Friend ;" or (as you call it in your 
 letter to me) yonr " Epistle to the Exeter Society." For 
 whom 1 should review it, the British, or the Anti-Jacobin, I 
 could not determine. The British 1 expected, from his very 
 cautious wisdom, to decline accepting it; as the history of a 
 private quarrel, better suppressed than published. The Anti- 
 Jacobin, I feared, would consider it as moving oat of the 
 orbit of his course. But, in the act of reviewing, chance 
 threw a couple of suggestions in my way, that determined 
 me to send it to the Anti-Jacobin, as they brought it di- 
 rectly within his sphere. Stating from your pamphlet the 
 first ground of the quarrel, the frivolous vanity about the 
 two blank-verse sonnets, I added thus : " If this representa- 
 tion be true, as, from the character of the author, we believe 
 it to be, and as in common jastice we must believe it to be 
 till it is contradicted, Dr. Downman of Exeter is the petty 
 dictator of a petty republic, actuated with all a republican's 
 jealousy of the merit around him, and acting with all arc- 
 publican's lust of power to make himself the monarch of the 
 whole. Dr. Priestley exclaims, in the agony of his American 
 sepentance, that " Republics are less free than Monarchies !"
 
 MEMOIRS OF WHITAKER. 137 
 
 I have thus endeavoured to give an anti-republican tinge to 
 my review, to procure it an admission into the Anti-Jacobin. 
 Yet I am not certain that it will gain admission after all. 
 
 Having done this, I turned to your Unsexed Females, and 
 1 have formed a fair abstract of your text and notes, by citing 
 such passages only in both as relate to the females censured. 
 I conclude with their sighs of repentance around Miss More. 
 " We have thus given," I say at the close of all, " a fair and 
 full abstract of the poem. We find it at once politically use- 
 ful and poetically beautiful. The satire is ingeniously conceiv- 
 ed, and judiciously executed. And we are happy to see a poet 
 who ranks high for richness of language, vividness of fancy, 
 and brilliancy of imagery, employing his poetical talents at this 
 awful crisis of Church and State, in vindication of all that is 
 dear to us as Britons and as Christians." This, I have no 
 doubt, will be inserted'in the Anti-Jacobin. But you have 
 impaired the force of my praises of you, by not prefixing 
 your name to your work. I therefore could not mention, 
 your name, and could only glance at it.. 
 
 Yours, very affectionately, 
 JOHN WHITAKER. 
 
 P. S. I am highly pleased with all your Satiric pieces. 
 But I want keys to them. In your " Follies of Oxford," 
 at pp. 19, 20, 2l I meet with a description of. "a Pedant- 
 fool." Who is this " Pedant-fool ?"* 
 
 In ''the Epistle from Mason to Pitt," there are passages 
 worthy of Peter Pindar. 
 
 In the " Animadversions" incedis per ignes!' But to 
 come to your lastsatiric strokes, I again advise you to publish 
 your " Visitation of the Poete/'f, 
 
 * Jackton ; afterwards Bishop of. Oxford; our Mathematical 
 lecturer. But he deserved not this character. To be sure, be 
 used often to call names. "A set of illiberal undergraduates," 
 he would sometimes denominate our whole class. We trembled 
 at his frown. Stern however, as he was, his heart wai good. 
 He had convivial talents of which few were aware. More than 
 one pleasant evening have I passed with Jackson. 
 
 + See APPENDIX to the second volume of these Biographical 
 Sketches; where I have made extracts from "the Follitt of 
 Oxford," from " Mason's Epistle to Pitt," and from the " Ani- 
 madversion* ;" and where I have printed " the Visitation of the 
 Poets" entire. In a fugitive pamphlet it appeared before jn 
 fragments only the disjecti membra. 
 H 2
 
 138 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES. 
 
 LETTER XXXVI. 
 J. WHITAKER to R. P. 
 
 July 10, 1/99. 
 Mr DEAR SIR, 
 
 Your " Letter to a College Friend," which, to my sur- 
 prise, I found not in the number for May, appeared yester- 
 day, in the number for June. Your "Old English Gentle- 
 man" appears also in it ; and your " Sketches in Verse, with 
 Prose Illustrations." Both are praised, but with a mixture 
 of blame. You are blamed, under the former, for a general 
 over-minuteness of circumstances, and for a too great fami- 
 liarity of language at times; but you are praised for your 
 description of the knight with his 'old roan horse ; for your 
 account of Miss Prue.^Rachel, and Avicc. And the conclu- 
 sion runs thus : " We have been thus free in our observations, 
 because we cannot overlook in Mr. Polwhele what might 
 safely be suffered to escape animadversion in bards of inferior 
 note ; but from great powers we are authorised to expect 
 great effects. The "English. Gentleman" has certainly much 
 merit ; but attention to the maxims of Horace would, we are 
 persuaded, have supplied the means of improvement." 
 
 ^ . . Luxuriantia compescet," &c. 
 
 Of the " Sketches"! it is said that, " they exhibit many 
 strokes of a- master-hand. Of the first Ode to the Prince of 
 Wales, the beginning is highly poetical," and is quoted. "In 
 the Highland- 0de the imagery, derived from the character 
 and superstitions of the country, is appropriate and striking." 
 Then some are said to be "greatly inferior to these, as the 
 
 Professor,' the 'Saint,' and *W Lodge.' The Ode 
 
 to Lord Dunstanville' is of a much superior cast, and abounds 
 with bold and beautiful personifications." Then is cited 
 from it; 
 
 " Yes, when insulting," &c. * 
 
 I have thus given you an abstract of these two articles. As 
 to the "Monthly," 1 have not seen that for May yet ; nor shall 
 I writ* for the " British Critic," before I receive what, in his 
 late letter, he said he meant to send me soon, his packet of 
 books previously approved by me. I have now got some 
 from the Anti-Jacobin, but shall not revise them soon I sus- 
 
 * Hurdis was, I suspect, the reviewer of the " Old English 
 Gentleman," and the " Sketches.'*
 
 MEMOIRS OF WHITAKER. 139 
 
 pect. I am deeply engaged, and have been for weeks, in en- 
 larging and correcting my "Essay on St. Neot." I enter 
 into general history, and endeavour to settle some points of 
 moment in the annals of King Alfred. 
 
 When this will be published, or when my much larger work 
 concerning the Cathedral of Cornwall will, Iknownot ; but I 
 shall be glad to see youc "Essay on Calvinism." You write 
 and publish at once ; while I am slow in writing, and slower 
 still in publishing 1 . If you go into Calvinism at large, you 
 have hau a copious subject. But you rest, I suppose, upon 
 a few points, the wildest and the weakest in that region of 
 follies. 
 
 Yours, &c. J. WHITAKER. 
 
 LETTER XXXVII. 
 J. WHITAKER to R. P. 
 
 M* DEAR SIR, Nov. 13, 
 
 After a second perusal of your " Letter to Dr. Hawker," 
 I sit down to acknowledge the receipt of your two favours, 
 and to give you my free opinion upon all. 
 
 Wiien I wrote to you with some hesitation of doubt, about 
 the nature of your intended work, I supposed (as you have 
 expressly cited me for saying) that you meant to go into " the 
 follies of Calvinism," to expose them. I never imagined that 
 you meant to attack the very point in Dr.. Hawker which has 
 always made him respected and revered in my eyes, what a 
 world of fools denominates his Methodism. I have lived too 
 long in the world, and felt too much of the world's hatred of 
 all vital religiousness,, not to know the term as merely the 
 former's nick-name for the latter. I have been through life, 
 and so (I believe) has every man who was seriously bent upon 
 the promises of Christianity, marked with the appellation of 
 Methodism.. All my zeal for Orthodoxy, all my warmth for 
 the Church, which you yourself have, at times, apprehended 
 to amount above the cool atmosphere of charity, have not bean 
 able to save me from the appellation. This alone will shew 
 satisfactorily to every man, that Methodism has not been, and 
 is not, opposed in general from any zeal, any warmth, for 
 either Orthodoxy or the Church, hut from a very different 
 principle from a dislike to the seriousness of spirit, from an 
 hostility to the devoutness of life, in the persons branded, as
 
 140 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES. 
 
 Methodists. And I see this to hare been always the case with 
 Dr. Hawker; a man whom I know not personally, whom I 
 know as an author by one work, and whom I have heard re- 
 peatedly abused at the bottom for his Methodism, his sanctity, 
 his hypocrisy, or whatever else irreligion chose to lay upon 
 him. 
 
 I was, therefore, much hurt, when I found you had joined 
 with the herd of the world's naturals in assaulting his Metho- 
 dism, for the sake of religion and the Doctor. 
 
 I still reprobate "the follies of Calvinism." But, in the 
 name of common sense, do not confound the doctrines of the 
 Gospel with Calvinism, and reprobate them as such. Yet 
 this you do, in some measure, by that improper language of 
 yours concerning regeneration, p. 11: "According to this 
 doctrine, our regeneration depends not upon ourselves." To 
 which Dr. Hawker has wittily replied : " no more than our 
 very generation." But you both use the term absurdly. You 
 both mean renovation by it. The real regeneration of the 
 gospel is what is done to the soul by the Holy Ghost in bap- 
 tism: " Except ye be born again of water and of the spirit, 
 ye cannot enter mto the kingdom of Heaven." Here God, 
 even God the Holy Ghost, is the sole agent, and the effect 
 certainly " depends not in the slightest degree upon our- 
 selves." But in the renovation of our minds to religiousness 
 from heedlessness, though the Holy Ghost is the causa effi- 
 cient of the change, yet our own concurrence with him is the 
 causa sine qud non. You/have thus taken up a Methodisti- 
 cal abuse of a term as your, own, and then insulted an evange- 
 lical doctrine by mistake for a Methodistical one. And would 
 you banish from the code of Christianity that supernal prin- 
 ciple of assistance, which we denominate the grace of God, for 
 which we pray continually in our churches, and in our closets, 
 and without which we know we cannot think one good 
 thought, or do one good action ? 
 
 Having said so much upon these points, I can only add a 
 couple of observations more. " According to Dr. Clarke," 
 the father of Arianism in England, " and other rational di- 
 vines, the only way to understand the Scriptures rightly is 
 to explain one text by another, and so as that none shall con- 
 tradict the 'great law of nature, which is likewise the law of 
 God.' " The principle here laid down is the very essence of 
 infidelity and folly. For where is this " law of nature" to be 
 found? Among the heathens ? There we have a something 
 beyond the law of nature ; even sacrifices, even vicarious sacri- 
 fices. And to refer to a law thus invisible, to refer to it also
 
 MEMOIRS OF WHITAKER. 141 
 
 as a standard for explaining what is actually visible, as ac- 
 tually written, is such a sophistry of reasoning as is too ridi- 
 culous for refutation. It is like the fanatical appeal of the 
 Quakers, from the Word of God to their own spirit. It was 
 intended, probably, to sweep away the doctrine of the Trinity, 
 and is calculated to sweep away every mysterious doctrine of 
 the Gospel. 
 
 "I am assured," you add ,. p..60, " that Methodism has, 
 from its first rise to its present state of insolent boasting, been 
 alarmingly injurious te the community." This is a most 
 pregnant falsehood. It has been amazingly beneficial. It 
 has turned the wretched heathens in the forest of Dean, and 
 thousands of heathens as wretched in the collieries all over the 
 kingdom, together with the profligate rabble of all our great 
 towns, into sober, serious, professed,, and practical Christians. 
 And I should be happy to see my own parishioners all Me- 
 thodists at this moment. But you endeavour to make Metho- 
 dism appear otherwise, by coupling it with schism and sedi- 
 tion. In the days of John Wesley, whom you, whom even 
 Methodists abuse, and who appears a glorious character to 
 me, no schism could take place among his Methodists, as he 
 kept them strictly to the church. As to sedition too, in the 
 time of the American rebellion the King thanked John for a 
 pamphlet which he wrote in favour of Government, and which 
 was circulated with great success among John's followers. 
 And, for the present times, you ace more unhappy still in 
 your charge of disaffection ; as the very man whom you con- 
 demn so much, the very man who has "'acquired a portentous 
 influence over the Calvinists of the West of England," p. 84, 
 has actually published, I find, in favour of the Government.* 
 
 IB haste I subscribe myself, still and for ever, 
 
 Yours, J. W. 
 
 * Of Dr. Hawker's judgment or probity I was led several 
 years ago (said Archdeacon Moore) to entertain a suspicion by 
 reading his Book on the Divinity of Christ. And if you will 
 give yourself the trouble to compare that Treatise with theLet- 
 ters of Ben Mordecai on the same great argument, I am apt to 
 think you will see reason to conclude either that Dr. H. was a 
 snake in the grass (which by the way I do not believe he was) 
 or that he did not understand the tendency of the arguments he 
 employed. He wishes to be thought quite orthodox, and he 
 lights with the weapons of Arianism. I am not possessed of 
 Ben Mordecai's book ; but our learned friend at Ruan Lany home 
 who is thoroughly furnished with the celestial panoply, may
 
 142 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES. 
 
 LETTER XXXVIII. 
 J. WHITAKER to R. P. 
 
 PEAR SIR, Jan. 8, 1800. 
 
 I have been mournfully employed for some weeks past 
 in attending a dying daughter. My eldest, you know, has 
 been long ill in a consumption. The disorder terminated on 
 Monday the 30th of December ; and the event has thrown us 
 all into a depth of sorrow, that has only the happy alleviation 
 of her religious end. My mind is just beginning to emerge 
 from this " sea of troubles ;" I therefore write to thank you 
 for your poetry and your prose, which you kindly sent me, 
 but which I have never yet been able to read ; remaining with 
 regard, Yours, &c. J. WHITAKER. 
 
 LETTER XXXIX. 
 J. WHITAKER to R. P. 
 
 My DEAR SIR, Jan. 31, 1800. 
 
 I thank you for your kind letter on the death of my daugh- 
 ter. That death was a heavy blow to me, but a heavier to my 
 wife. We are both, however, rising superior to its stunning 
 effect, though we shall ever retain a lively impression of it on 
 our minds. Religion will keep, up the impression, as it is 
 religion that is making us superior to the stun. We dwell, in 
 
 probably have suspended in his temple of victory some trophies 
 of a more unsound temper. As Dr. IF. is so forward as to throw 
 articles and homilies at our heads, it is but fair war to call his 
 orthodoxy to the same test.. I write upon memory, and mine is 
 too much time-worn to fee depended on. I beseech you there- 
 fore, to see with your own eyes, and by no means to mention 
 my name, if yoo see occasion to avail yourself of this hint. 
 
 At the same time with your letter and Dr. H.'s answer, there 
 vf&s put into my hands a wretched illiterate performance by a 
 person who enters the list as second to the Dr. The thing would 
 be beneath notice but for the man's impudent assertion that Bi- 
 shop Lavington in his latter days repented of his writings 
 against the Methodists; which I know to be without founda- 
 tion, as far as his conversation could afford assurance of the 
 contrary. To the very last he always spoke of them as a fra- 
 ternity compounded of hypocrites and enthusiasts."
 
 MEMOIRS OF WHITAKER. 143 
 
 thongh't and in talk, upon the religiousness of her life and the 
 devoatness of her death. We thus feel a holy balm distilling 
 over our souls from both. We particularly rest upon one 
 point, because of its reach and range. Soon after her sickness 
 be^un, she told her mother that she had been praying 1 to God 
 a little time before, to send her something- which would make 
 her more serious, and that she now considered her-sickness as a 
 return to her prayer from God. It is soothing to my soul to 
 dwell upon this. Even then she was so serious as to be pray- 
 ing for more, and to be praying for it at the expense of a visi- 
 tation. Even when it came in the formidable shape of sickness, 
 she was not startled at its appearance, but welcomed it as the 
 messenger ofGod, sent for the gracious purpose of making her 
 more serious, and she continued in the same happy frame of 
 spirits to the very last ; re-mentioning the,prayer and the re- 
 turn, only a few hours before she died. But my tearscompel 
 me to leave the pleasingly distressing subject. 
 
 I am thus unfit to discuss with you any points at present, 
 of your controversy with Dr. Hawker ; nor do I know what 
 you mean by "Wotton's <Letter," which is to convince me 
 that the Doctor is not one of us. lean only say, that I still 
 wish you had not published against him, or published with 
 more care as to facts, and more attention as to doctrines. Only 
 this moment have I ended a re r perusal of your " Second Let- 
 ter," and have much to say against it. But I withhold my 
 pen. 
 
 Your anecdotes of Methodism, I fear, will be exposed to 
 more objections. The lie of the day, the jest of the -evening, 
 or some revived tale concerning the Puritans in the last cen- 
 tury, will compose (I suspect) the motley mass of scandal, and 
 religion will suffer from all, I apprehend. 
 
 " As to the cantos on Methodistical Jumpers, or on Jum- 
 perism," you say, " I will remand back the MS. from Lon- 
 don, where it has been for months, and shew it to you. If 
 you think any part of it, or all, exceptionable, I will commit 
 it to oblivion, in deference to your judgment, and in regard 
 to you." I thank you for the compliment, but I must de- 
 cline the acceptance of it. The compliment indeed is too 
 great, in my opinion to be paid to any one. You must be the 
 sole judge of what you think to publish, especially in a case 
 like this, when confessedly the suppression "will be really a 
 sacrifice of your poems." Who would devote to the cord 
 such a bantling as this ? Who would wish the father himself 
 so to devote it? 
 
 Your " Grecian Prospects" I read yesterday, and4ikethem
 
 144 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES. 
 
 much. I hare even reviewed* them for the British Critic. 
 
 I am sorry to find that Mrs. Polwhele's health is so very 
 precarious. God preserve her life for the sake of you and 
 yours ! I know not a man who would be more forlorn under 
 such a loss than yourself. The best wishes of my wife and 
 daughters, (the latter, alas ! now two only) for her and you, 
 accompany those of 
 
 Yours, &c. JOHN WHITAKER. 
 
 LETTER XL. 
 Mr. WHITAKER to R. P. 
 
 MY DEAR SIR, 
 
 To your letter without a date 1 am now at liberty to 
 reply at last. But I was so engulphed in my Original His- 
 tory of London critically stated, that I could not mount up 
 into day and reply before. I have thus been waiting week 
 after week, in hopes that the next would terminate my long 
 labour upon one point the Origin, &c. of Southwark, but 
 still fiuding the termination fly before me. Last week I had 
 finished in my own fancy this point at last, when the Lock 
 Hospital closed me in its wards, and kept me in its infected 
 company. And, when -I had escaped, I recollected a part in a 
 prior chapter, in which I had long meant to prove a passage of 
 Ovid's Fasti had no reference whatever (though one writer of 
 celebrity has asserted it had a direct one) to the history of 
 Sampson. And, when I had done this, I devoted two or three 
 of the weeks .following to letter-writing and to reviewing. 
 I accordingly began this week ; and your History of Corn- 
 wall, with your letter or letters to me, of course challenged 
 my first attention. But 1 have spent all the days till this in 
 examining some papers that I wished to send you, in diverting 
 
 * I had illustrated my Grecian Prospects with notes from 
 Thompson's Travels -which I afterwards suspected to be spuri- 
 ous. Mr. Hawkins lately confirmed my suspicion ; and soon 
 after our conversation, informed me in a very friendly letter: 
 
 '"On my way home from your house I recollected the name 
 of the fabricator of Thompson's Travels ; it is Sir John Hill, the 
 author of a great botanical work and of a well known attack on 
 the Royal Society, besides a variety of other publications. 
 
 I had this information from the late Mr. Pennant."
 
 MEMOIRS OF WHITAKER. 145 
 
 from my pursuit by perusing some pamphlets that thrust 
 themselves into my hands, and in hunting for others that I 
 could not find. And, just as I had finished my eighth line 
 above, my man brought me your last letter of Nov. 4. 
 
 I have thus at length selected for you two folio MSS., en- 
 titled on the cover, I see, "Local Notices, vol. 1st and 2d," 
 and containing dissertations on St. Michael's Mount, on Pen- 
 zan<se, on the Land's End, and, what I value more than all to- 
 gether, on the Scilly Isles. To these I have added a MS. by 
 the late Mr. Collins, who died at Pcnryn, being a copy of 
 those observations which I had formerly written on the blank 
 pages of Tonkin's MS. when I believed it to have been given 
 me by that unscholarlike divine, the late Rector of Truro, but 
 which I took care to erase with my pen before I returned the 
 MS. itself. To these I have added a MS. entitled "St. Ger- 
 man's, vol. 8," but containing only " The Antient Valors of 
 Cornwall," with notes. Some loose papers concerning Ver- 
 yan and Probus, &c. I have put between the folds of a plan 
 of the Coyt near St. Columb. The two drawings of an in* 
 scription on the doorway of the porch to St. Austle church, 
 are done by two different persons. The larger one is by Mr. 
 W. Gregor, the smaller by Mr. Briton. On the back of the 
 former are some notes of mine. To all I have subjoined the 
 pedigree of the Connocks historically unfolded, which I 
 drew up at last, after repeated solicitations from Mrs. Con- 
 nock; but which, when read to her by myself, she shewed 
 evidently she did not like. I had swept away the wild dream 
 with which, it seems, this widow of the last male Connock 
 had flattered her vanity, of their descent from the Counts of 
 Bretagne ; and she would rather have dreamed on. I gave her 
 a more honourable descent for them, even one from the Kings 
 of Cornwall ; but she did not like this a thousandth part so 
 well as the other. So little has she of a Cornish soul within 
 her ! And at the close, when I expected the old lady, rich 
 and liberal, would have put a bank-note of fifty pounds into 
 my hands, she would have given me three guineas. 1 resisted 
 the offer, not wholly because I would take nothing, but be- 
 cause I considered the offer as nothing. I felt the guineas, 
 and felt t\\e\v fewness. 
 
 With all these I send you what I borrowed some time ago 
 your Peters on Job. I have not read it, but just glanced 
 over what he says about the Leviathan, and found it was 
 nothing. 
 
 I had once intended to hare published myself all that I 
 now send you. The essay on the Land's End and the Scilly
 
 146 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES. 
 
 Isles I particularly intended. But "art is long and life is 
 short." And at sixty-eight I begin to cut short my plans of 
 publication. I therefore threw off every thing Cornish for 
 your pen, except my St. German's and my St. Neot's. My 
 corrections of the histories of London have drawn me off from 
 Cornwall, as a history of London is more generally attractive, 
 and therefore more likely to be popular. Yet I have so much 
 of the vanity of authorship about me, as to wish you would 
 publish my account of the Land's End and of the Scilly Isles, 
 in an appendix to your History of Cornwall, and avowedly as 
 mine. 
 
 Your history I have not yet read. I have been too much 
 immersed in my own ideas concerning London, to turn off for 
 only a day into yours. 1 will, however, as soon as I have 
 written a few letters that have been long waiting for my 
 answers, and looked over some accounts that have been long 
 wanting my examination, I will go over your History with 
 attention, and will review it for the Anti-Jacobin. I wish 
 to write to Mr. Gifford, as he has three or four months ago 
 met with some dreadful misfortune, and I have not even had 
 time to inquire how or what it is. He has also been very ill 
 recently, and yours is the first account which I have received 
 of his being better. This his writing to you seems to intimate. 
 But his Summary of Politicks, which was suspended ex- 
 pressly in September by the writer's illness, has not been re- 
 cumed (I see) in October. 
 
 Your warlike Ode to Faithful Cornwall I have not yet 
 seen. I see it, however, by extracts in the Anti-Jacobin; and 
 I will send for it by my man, when he goes with this letter 
 and the parcel to-morrow for Truro the letter to reach you 
 by the post, and the parcel hy the carrier. My daughters say 
 they promised you the View of St. Keyne's Well, if Mr. 
 Briton, the drawer, consented you should have it. 'Where he 
 now is, I knew not. But five months ago he received a mi- 
 niature of me, which Mr. Bone drew of me some years ago, in 
 order to send it from Mr. Bone* to my daughters ; and they 
 have never yet received it. Only he wrote to me about four 
 or five weeks ago, to tell me this, and to request 1 would re- 
 vise the Cornwall, as I had formerly promised I would, and 
 send him my remarks. He added, that he had sent the minia- 
 ture by the coach or the carrier: he did not say which, and he 
 did not say when ; nor have I yet received it. And of course 
 I have not revised his Cornwall ; having, indeed, never looked 
 into it. 
 
 * In enamtl, a firtt-rate artist.
 
 MEMOIRS OF WH1TAKEK. T4T 
 
 " The reluctant submission of Cornwall." says Gibbon, in. 
 G17 quarto, " was delayed for some ages." So says the text. 
 ' Corn wall was finally subdued, jr says a note, "by Athelstan, 
 ' A.D. 927 941, who planted an English colony at Exeter, 
 'and confined the Britons beyond the river Tamar. SeeWiU 
 ' Ham of Malmesbury 1. ii. in the Scriptores post Bedam p. 
 '50. Ths spirit of the Cornish knights was degraded by 
 ' servitude : and it should seem from the Romance of Sir 
 ' Tristram, that their cowardice was almost proverbial." All 
 this I had forgotten, because it was published before I had 
 any connection with Cornwall. But you had transcribed it, 
 I see by the terms of your account, and now wish me to 
 answer it. He says very truly, I think, in stating the final 
 reduction of Cornwall to have been made by Athelstan. I 
 have dwelt upon this particularly, in my account of St. Ger- 
 man's church. I dwell again in my account of the Land's 
 End, here sent. Nor do I know any the slightest shadow of 
 cowardice in either. Gibbon was a mere coxcomb in history : 
 he read much, he fancied more, and he erred splendidly in 
 both. The tale of Sir Tristram I do not recollect circum- 
 stantially, though I am familiar with his name. The general 
 story is in La Morte d'Arthur, I suppose, and only as old as 
 that, some time (I think) in the 14th century. And what an 
 historian must that be, who founds a censure of cowardice 
 against a whole nation upon what he thinks a feeble resist- 
 ance, without once weighing the comparative strength of the 
 assailants and the assailed ; yet reinforces his hasty censure by 
 a sarcasm, personal certainly, absurd probably, in a mere ro- 
 mance, a romance too later by some centuries. In a fair esti- 
 mate of the comparative strength of a county against a king- 
 dom, Cornwall behaved with exemplary courage in opposing 
 Athelstan at first, and in not yielding at last without another 
 battle. Gibbon's establishment of an English colony at 
 Exeter, results only from Malmesbury's assertion of Athel- 
 stan's obliging the Cornish to give up their part of Bxeter to 
 the English. 
 
 As to your and Mrs. Polwhele's fears, I am rather sur- 
 prised at them. I see some in my wife and daughters. But 
 I fear nothing myself, and have always calmed their fears 
 hitherto. I pray, I exhort them to pray ; and then, with 3 
 confidence in HIM who has the reins of the Creation in his 
 hands, we fear nothing. What He orders, is right in itself, 
 and right with regard to us. Why then should we fear? 
 " Is not God in Heaven ?" asked my youngest daughter many 
 year* ago. " Why then should we fear, papa?" she re-asked. 
 All this I am obliged to recall to their minds, for the support
 
 148 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES. 
 
 of their spirits. Yet, in a human view, I consider all fear of 
 a French invasion* in Cornwall as supremely ridiculous. The 
 aim of the scoundrel, who has now usurped the power of all 
 the scoundrel usurpers before him, is to terrify by appear- 
 ances, is to wound by realities, to aim at London and to land 
 in Ireland. And in all probability his aims or his landings 
 will be defeated completely, by his landing and his defeat, or, 
 what is still more likely, by the extinction of him and his 
 host (like Pharaoh and his) in the waters of the sea. Then 
 only will the world be freed from its- disturber. And then 
 only can it " rest from off the tossing of those fiery waves" 
 which have so long disturbed and inflamed it. 
 
 In this spirit of confidingness upon the Highest Wisdom 
 and the Highest Goodness, I am pursuing my studies without 
 one atom of fear. I see the danger, and I face it. I consider 
 all as a trial from God, of our reliance upon Him ; and upon 
 Him will I rely to the end. I will act prudently ; but I will 
 never leave my reliance upon God. The more trials I have, 
 the better ; because I am sure \ shall have the more rewards. 
 In short, I fear nothing but God ; and Him, I hope, I shall 
 ever fear most reverentially. 
 
 We shall be happy to see you both, when you have got 
 overyour fears as we have done, and find all the designs of 
 the French pointed as they formerly were, and as they evi- 
 dently are now at Ireland, that land of strong disaffection 
 forme'rly, and that region of feeble rebellion very lately. 
 
 With the kind compliments of my wife and daughters to 
 Mrs. Polwhele, and with my warmest wishes for your success 
 in the History of Cornwall, 
 
 I remain, my dear Sir, yours affectionately, 
 JVov. 11, 1803. JOHN WHITAKER. 
 
 * I had told Mr. W. that our family were taking flight and 
 that I had cried out " &ive me thesword which was my father's 
 in the year forty-five !" &c. It is remarkable that Sir W. Scott 
 has put almost the same words into the month of his antiquary, 
 upon the same emergence. 
 
 "Give me (said the Antiquary) the sword which my fa- 
 ther wore in the year forty-five. It hath no belt or baldrick 
 but will make shift." n. 324*. The Antiquary, Waverley Ne- 
 reis. Vol. VI. 
 
 Such is the sword now before me, a handsome silver hafted 
 sword certainly without belt or baldrick and even a scabbard ; 
 which Lord Mount Edgcumbe had presented to my father in 46 ; 
 when he had the conduct of a new-raised regiment as far as 
 Exeter : where they stopped short,, on receiving intelligence of 
 the battle of Cullouen.
 
 MEMOIRS OF WHITAKER. 149 
 
 LETTER XLI. 
 J. WHITAKER to R. P. 
 
 Mv DEAR SIR, 
 
 I would have replied to your favour immediately on 
 the receipt of it, as I was so glad to hear from you ; if Thad 
 not been expecting to be at full liberty for the work in the 
 course of two or three days. These days, however, have run 
 out successively into many in number. And then your mo- 
 ther's illness came after all. But, as the sale of your mother's 
 furniture calls you this week to Truro, 1 take up my pen to 
 greet you there'. 
 
 In my late visit to London, I was taken very ill, at least 
 so ill as to be deprived of my appetite and to lose my flesh. 
 The air of London (in the crowded parts of it especially) is 
 so loaded with sulphur from the fires, as to be almost pesti- 
 lential to a short-breathed man. 1 was always sensible of this 
 malady, and iiow felt it for the first time in the atmosphere 
 of London. I had now been just thirty years absent from the 
 city. My native malady had increased in the period much. 
 And I soon began to feel 1 could not walk, and could not 
 breathe so freely as I used to do. My stomach, generally 
 active and vigorous before, began to lose its elasticity and to 
 languish in its vivacity. I fancied meats, but could not en- 
 joy them. I could drink, but could not eat. 1 thus began 
 to shrink in the size of my corpulence, and to fade in the 
 colour of my cheeks. And I was soon made sensible myself 
 that my life" would be in danger if I did not soon return into 
 the country. Yet my spirits were lively and steady; I en- 
 joyed the conversation of scholars who came to see me, very 
 much indeed ; I saw numbers about me in my lodgings near 
 Covent garden, that I had known only by correspondence be- 
 fore; I found them all very pleasing, very complimentary, 
 and very friendly ; I even felt myself raised above myself 
 whenever I was conversing with them, and forgot my in- 
 creasing malady for the time entirely. But, above all, I was 
 very unwilling to take my daughters abruptly away from 
 London. It was their first visit ; and I should have been 
 cruel to cut their visit short. I could not attend them myself ; 
 and to procure substitutes for me required time. And I wa 
 therefore very desirous to stay with them in London as long 
 ai ever I possibly could. I accordingly staid to the last line 
 of my assigned period, having allowed one week for the 
 journey up, two weeks for the journey down by Oxford, and
 
 150 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES. 
 
 the intermediate period to residence in London. I bad thus 
 reduced myself so low in health and aspect, that I was in no 
 little danger from my kindness. When, however, I left 
 London , I flattered myself, from the briskness of my spirits 
 and from the enjoyment of my mind, that I should feel myself 
 well again as soon as I had turned Hyde Park Corner, or at 
 least that I should leave my cough behind me on Windsor Ter- 
 race. Yet I turned Hyde Park Corner without losing my cough, 
 and even walked the Terrace without leaving my cough be- 
 hind me. I actually took it with me to Oxford. . 1 even car- 
 ried it away with me out of Oxford, after two days stay in it. 
 My malady still stuck close to me, my lungs being still loaded 
 with a mucus from tlie air of London, and my only relief 
 being by expectoration. My stomach thus had no power of 
 expansion ; and my appetite thus had no possibility of exer- 
 tion. In this manner I went on amid all the recollections and 
 re-visits of Oxford, all the exercises of the road, and all the 
 enjoyments of a surviving friend there ; not recovering iny- 
 self, yet not receding in health. At last I found nay long 
 lost appetite at Bath, where we met by agreement with a 
 family of this neighbourhood, that had repeatedly called 
 upon us in London, and that consented to spend a Sunday 
 with us in Bath. I there, after the service of the afternoon, 
 sat down at four to a dinner, and, for the first time, relished 
 it very much. I consider this as the crisis of my complaint, 
 and went on improving in health till I reached home. Yet 
 .my improvement was so little in reality, that a lady of my 
 parish has since told me, as she looked* at me mounted into 
 my pulpit on Whitsunday, she thought me fitter for my bed 
 than my pulpit. 1 grew better, however, and better and 
 better still. My spirits settled into steadiness ; my appetite 
 gained an addition of strength ; and my harrassing cough 
 ceased by degrees. Yet during all this interval of recovery 
 itself, I felt my mind so weakened by the illness of my body, 
 that I was actually afraid* while I was reading my own Ori- 
 ginal History of London, of encountering any difficulties in 
 it, or of starting any doubts concerning it. Both these I left 
 to be started by myself, or by myself to be encountered at a 
 future time. But by degrees I had the boldness to start the 
 doubts, and to encounter the difficulties, from which I had 
 turned or fled before. And I have been, ever since I came 
 from London, employed wholly in correcting or enlarging 
 what I had written before, intending for many months past to 
 resume the series of my history, yet still diverted from my 
 intention by new objects in the past parts. I have of late
 
 MEMOIRS OF WHITAKER. 151 
 
 been particularly busy in the Norman period of my History, 
 which has been very wretchedly told by the only historian of 
 London who has told it at all ; yet it is pregnant with notices, 
 general and useful and curious. But I have resolved at last 
 and determinately, to resume my series next Monday, and to 
 begin what alone remains for the completion of my whole 
 work my 8th chapter. 
 
 " Before you left Cornwall," you tell me, "you> spoke of 
 " some notes on Bodmin and other towns, which you had in 
 " reserve for me." I bad forgotten- that promised, yon any 
 notes upon BodmiiK 1 have since promised them, I find, to 
 another writer ; as an intimation from this other has reminded 
 me some time ago-.. But I had promised you, 1 see, before he 
 was promised ; and; yours is for the County at large. I shall 
 therefore transcribe what I have written, and send it to you 
 at Truro in the course of the present week. "On this and 
 ." the success of your literary expedition, I expected to have 
 " the pleasure of hearing from you ; especially as, having got 
 " rid of your great work, I supposed you tolerably free from 
 " learned cares." By my " great work" I suppose you to 
 mean my Antient Cathedral of Cornwall; But this I did not 
 send to my printer till I had returned home ; and then my 
 malady disabled me from attending to any thing very closely. 
 I even thought of this work with so much indifference, that I 
 parted with it in a perfect apathy almost about its fate. I 
 left it all to my bookseller; And, as I have recovered my 
 ancient spirit, I never was more burdened with literary cares 
 than I have lately been. For a fortnight past, I have been 
 deeply engaged, in particular, by what I mean to insert in my 
 very next publication The Origin of Oxford as a Town be- 
 fore the University. I have a clergyman employed in Oxford 
 at present, in examining some points that I have seen, but 
 neglected at Oxford formerly. In the mean time, however, 
 you fancy you catch me under & new publication. " Some 
 " communication, indeed, I have certainly had with Mr. Whi- 
 " takec every Saturday. But this was in common with others. 
 " And*, to my regret, it is now ceased." You was thus de- 
 ceived, as even 1 was myself. In the first paper containing 
 what you mean, I read over one paragraph with pleasure. I 
 then began to think the author writing just as I should have 
 written. I then suspected these were my own sentiments and 
 my own expressions. I even turned at last to my own pre- 
 face of Flindell's own Bible. And you might well recognise 
 myself in myself, the prefacer of a Bible in the essayist of a 
 newspaper. "So perfectly," as you add, "am I acquainted
 
 2 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES. 
 
 ' with your style and manner, that I am sure I am obliged to 
 ' you foy the sacred columns of the Truro newspaper." 
 
 "In consequence of Overtoil's attack upon me, which has 
 ' kept alive the memory of the Hawkerian controversy, I have 
 ' been repeatedly urged by a Staffordshire friend (a truly 
 ' Christian believer) to publish in some shape or other my 
 ' vindication of my religious principles." In that contro- 
 versy I took part against you, I remember, by a private let- 
 ter to you. You had not, if I remember, distinguished pro- 
 perly between the principles of the Church of England, that is 
 in mv estimation, the very '* Pillar and Groitnd of Faith" 
 withfn this island, and the opinions of the Methodists either 
 as wildly Calvinistical under Whitfield, or as adhering, with 
 some erroneousness about Justification, to the doctrines of the 
 Church. Yet I have more lately thought worse of these Me- 
 thodists than I once thought. The strange tergiversation of 
 Wesley himself towards the close of life, nas undeceived me 
 in a particular manner. I remember to have formerly seen in 
 the hands of Mr. Baldwin, then at Manchester* a letter written 
 by Mr. Samuel Wesley, the Master of Tiverton school, and 
 the brother to James as well as Charles, predicting, if they 
 went on in the manner which they had then begun, " they 
 ' would come at last to lick the spittle of the Dissenters." 
 This prophecy has been latterly accomplished in full form, to 
 our ears and to our eyes. Wesley himself had the unwary 
 presumption to assume the powers of the Episcopate to him- 
 self, though a Presbyter only, and so to begin a second suc- 
 cession of usurping Presbyters in the Church. And, as the 
 Rer. Mr. Nott, in his Hampton Lectures, has lately shewn 
 this part of the history of Methodism in a strong light, in a 
 fuller form, and with convincing circumstances; so has he 
 particularly displayed the versatility of John's judgment, in 
 proving him whom I remember to have been at first a fa- 
 vourer of the American Rebellion, to have been converted 
 very ingenuously by Dr. Johnson's pamphlet against it, to 
 have then published his abstract of this as his own, to have 
 made many converts by the abstract, and to have been thanked 
 for it personally by the King himself; yet, at the closof all, 
 when Rebellion had prospered, to have written in favour of 
 Rebellion, and to have openly disowned all that he had said 
 before. Such a poor creature was he in reality, when he came 
 to be fairly tried ! And such poor creatures were those sim- 
 pletons of our communion, who confounded religiousness 
 with Methodism, who, having no life of religiousness in them- 
 selves, fancied all was Methodism, and thus did all that they
 
 MEMOIRS OF WHITAKER. 153 
 
 eould do to make Methodism that "vital spark of heavenly 
 flame" which can alone save any Church or any Christian 
 from final reprobation. 
 
 But I have dwelt so long upon this point, that I have 
 hardly time to notice even the others in your letter. I saw 
 Mr. Gifford repeatedly at my lodgings. Mr. Gifford is now, 
 or has been, in distressed circumstances. He was obliged* 
 before I reached London, to sell his library. I therefore 
 feel for him, as I equally feel for your large family.. The 
 views of interest through a borough, indeed, might probably 
 have proved a blessing to you. So it has proved seemingly 
 
 to ... Yet It almost always produces a meanness of 
 
 mind that is a disgrace to any dignified spirit. And even our 
 friend, I understand, is frequently talking with all his suc- 
 cesses in life, that he has not been rewarded sufficiently; even 
 frequently, I see and feel, enoying and disliking those who 
 are content with their own, yet are happy and rich without 
 being preferred. 
 
 As you will now be at Truro for this week, I wish you 
 could come with Mrs. P. and spend a day with us. Mrs. W. 
 has no right to expect a visit from Mrs. P., as she never paid 
 one ; but then a visit from her will be the more kind, and Mrs. 
 W. will think herself the more obliged by the kindness. You 
 can come on Friday, I suppose, take a bed with us, and go 
 round by the passages on Saturday. Think of this, Sir and 
 Madam, and do this. I will even trust you will. And in 
 that trust I subscribe myself, with the respects of my wife 
 and daughters to Mrs. Polwhele, 
 
 My dear Sir, your Friend and Servant, 
 Monday Evening, Feb. 5, 1805, JOHN WHITAKER. 
 
 N. B. If the sale will not allow you to come this week, 
 and should force you to return, next week, we shall be happy 
 to see you and Mrs. Polwhele then. One day in that week 
 we have fixed our minds for receiving some neighbours. We 
 mean to give them Monday, Tuesday, or Wednesday for their 
 selection. And we will apprize you what day they choose, 
 if you think you can favour us. On Thursday my wife and 
 daughters mean to be at Truro, in order to attend the last as- 
 sembly for the winter; but to reach Truro about eight in the 
 evening, and return home about thr.ec in the morning. 
 
 Mem. I must require you to let me have the two folio 
 apex-books concerning the Scilly Isles. I want only to make 
 a few extracts from them, which will not interfere with your 
 use of them. 
 
 Wednesday, Feb. 6.
 
 154 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES. 
 
 LETTER XLII. 
 J. WHITAKER to R. P: 
 
 MY DEAR SIR, 
 
 Your two last letters found me visited with a sick* 
 ness that I cannot call a paralytick stroke, but must call a 
 paralytick affection. In consequence of it, a numbness seized 
 one half of my body, and I was afraid was stealing over my 
 mind. But, thanks be to God ! all fear of the latter is gone 
 off, and all feeling of the former i* much lessened. 
 
 I remain, with a pen apparently faultering from my late 
 attack, but likely to recover I hope, by continued and mo- 
 derate exercise, my dear Sir, 
 
 Your Friend, 
 
 J. WHITAKER. 
 Wednesday, March 27, 1805. 
 
 LETTER XLIII. 
 J. WHJTAKER to R. P. 
 
 Saturday June 16, 1805. 
 MY DEAR SIR, 
 
 Attention to my health, has prevented my replying 1 tb 
 your letter. I beg you will put me down for one of your 
 subscribers for two copies. 
 
 I see with satisfaction, that your third volume is publish- 
 ed already, and that you mean to publish speedily another 
 volume on the Civil and Military History of Cornwall, from 
 Edward I. to the present time. 
 
 I had resolved to send you a Dissertation which I thought 
 I had lent you before, on Pope Nicholas's Valor. Had I 
 found it before^ I should have inserted it in the Appendix to 
 my Ancient Cathedral ; and to you it is useless now, unless 
 you can insert it with propriety, and wish to insert it in your 
 Civil and Military History. You can best judge of this, as 
 you see your proposals favoured or discountenanced. That 
 they will be discountenanced, I have no notion; that they 
 ought not to be, I am clear and certain ; and, if they are, I 
 shall think it a disgrace to the whole county. Yet I know 
 too well the spirit of the world, even of the world of scholars, 
 not to be sure of success for you. Even scholars have their
 
 MEMOIRS OF WHITAKER. 155 
 
 vanity so coloured with their selfishness, that this unites with 
 that to discourage such undertakings as yours. I have felt 
 the spirit myself in others, where no selfishness could stimu- 
 late, and only vanity could instigate. 
 
 At present I am very busy in completing my History of 
 London ; it takes up much of my time and thought ; yet I 
 move very slowly in finishing it. I have long heen in the 
 concluding chapter of it, and was hoping to rest at the goal 
 before this day ; but the goal flies before me as I advance, and 
 I ana still in the course;. so I shall be for some time to come, 
 I foresee ; yet I have lately been cheered in my labours, by 
 recollecting what I had pointed out more than forty years 
 ago to a friend, yet had nearly forgotten of late, a passage 
 proving a church in London to have been Roman in its origin; 
 and, es I here yesterday drawn up my recollections in form, 
 I am particularly pleased with them. 
 
 In so writing, 1 have anticipated part of your second letter 
 of May the 22d, and the other part 1 shall now answer. 
 *' From your attendance at the Visitation," you say, **and 
 41 your good spirits through that day, 1 ' as announced to you 
 by the Archdeacon, " I infer that you are considerably im- 
 *' proved in your health." I am, I thank God, much reco- 
 vered from the kind of paralytic touch which I received about 
 nine or ten weeks ago. This benumbed my limbs, and weak- 
 ened my mind considerably for a time, but I betook myself 
 directly to the exercise of a chaise, and have even lately pur- 
 chased a pair of lively horses for the purpose : with these I go 
 out three times a day, and move so rapidly, that some envious 
 simpletons in my neighbourhood fancy 1 move for parade, 
 not for health. By this means I am recovering, though but 
 slowly ; yet, by persevering, I hope to recover more to my 
 own feeling, and more to the feeling of others. My spirits 
 have always been the promptest instruments of my mind, and 
 will continue to be the promptest (I believe) to the day of my 
 death. 
 
 " The fourth volume of the Cornwall," you add, "will be 
 "immediately put to the press; but I wait for the Bodmin 
 44 notes, Sec. which you so long ago promised me." 1 shall 
 therefore send them with the Dissertation hinted at before ; 
 they shall go off to Truro next week with a note inclosed to 
 you, and! am happy to find that they will be of any service 
 to you. 
 
 " Have you heard any thing of the threatened invasion of 
 " the Lysons, or their Cornwall ? They are said to be formi- 
 " dable gentlemen." I know only Samuel Lyions, whom I
 
 15G BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES. 
 
 saw personally in London in mv lodgings ; he is so great a 
 talker, that I said to myself of him when he was gone, after 
 hearing him alone for two hours, 
 
 The rattling and audacious tongue 
 Of saucy Eloquence. 
 
 He talked incessantly and eloquently, but therefore allowed 
 me not to talk with him. Of him I have never heard, but 
 am expecting every post to hear ; when I hear, you shall hear 
 from me. What his " Cornwall" is, in execution or in design, 
 I know aet; when I do, you shall hear also. 
 
 Yours, &.c. 
 
 JOHN WH1TAKER, 
 
 LETTER XLIV, 
 
 J. W'HITAKER to R. P. 
 
 Monday, June 24, 1805. 
 Mv DEAR SIR, 
 
 I wrote to you this day week, and then promised to 
 send you some papers in the course of the week by the Hel- 
 stone carrier, supposing him to reach Helstone on Saturday, 
 and intending to send to him at Truro by Thursday ; but 
 vain are the promises of busy men about sending papers. On 
 Thursday a new game started up under my feet, and I was 
 busy all the week in pursuing it. This being now done, I 
 shall turn to you before a new hare starts up. This morning 
 I have found out what I thought I had sent before, what I 
 originally intended to have printed, and what I have there* 
 fore, I see, written out fair for the press; only I must observe 
 what the Archdeacon told me at the Visitation, that Pope 
 Nicholas's Valor has been printed. 
 
 This and all you are at liberty to publish with my name 
 to all ; I objected to this part of your conduct before, but now 
 consider it as most dignified in you; yon assume not to your* 
 self the merit of any thing meritorious, and you leave them to 
 answer for any thing otherwise. 
 
 I also send you the account which I drew up of Bodmin, 
 for my journey last year through Bodmin to London.
 
 MEMOIRS OF WHITAKER, 157 
 
 I thank yoa for reminding me that I had promised yon my 
 Antient Cathedral of Cornwall.* I will write to Mr.* Stock- 
 dale about it this evening. 
 
 Yours, &c. 
 
 J. WHITAKER.| 
 
 LETTER XLV. 
 
 J. WHITAKER to Mr. HARINGTOX.* 
 
 Nov. 3, 1806. 
 DEAR SIR, 
 
 With a hand still affected sensibly by my late illness, 
 I return you thanks for your kind letter to me. That illness 
 was the severest which 1 ever remember to have had. It was 
 brought on merely by my over studiousness. This you have 
 long known to be the striking propensity of my life. It is 
 indeed an honourable one, and I glory in it ; but on this oc- 
 casion I indulged it rather too freely. I wanted to finish a 
 work which I had been engaged upon for some years a His- 
 tory of London ; I fancied I could free it from a multiplicity 
 of errors and mistakes, which I saw repeated and renewed in 
 every history that 1 consulted. The thought was certainly a 
 bold one, especially in one living so far from London, and 
 at an age so far advanced as mine ; but boldness is the true 
 sign of an enterprizing genius. In the execution of this bold 
 plan, I had proceeded very far, to the injury of my health, 
 last spring. I therefore resolved to go to Cheltenham at 
 Whitsuntide with my wife and daughters. lhey meant to 
 
 * In the " Ancient Cathedral" is completely demolished the old 
 historical fabrick of the Western Bishops. I consider the new 
 edifice as for ever iniinoreable. Among several little errors, 
 however, I think I have detected one which should not pass un- 
 noticed. " Even Probus (says W.) is of so much valut of itself, 
 that Bishop Ross got &,WO for the renewal of a lease upon it." 
 p. 261. The fact is. Bishop Ross got 8,000 for adding two 
 lives on a lease of Cargol. Probus is, comparatively, a very 
 small estate. 
 
 + It was about this time (perhaps writing this very letter) 
 that he fell from his chair upon the carpet. His duteoOs daugh- 
 ters re- placed him at his desk ; and ha resumed his pea, per- 
 fectly unconscious of what hart happened. 
 
 f Son of Dr. Harington, of Bath.
 
 1-58 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES. 
 
 drink the waters; but so fearless was I of all maladies, even 
 from my long-continued over-studiousness, that I, who meant 
 to go for no complaint whatever, should be puzzled (I said) 
 what to do with myself while I was there, and was aiming 
 merely at a long interval of idleness : yet my spirits, I recol- 
 lect now, were leaded with a groat weight of depression upon 
 them. 
 
 * * * * 
 
 Even at Bath, when I was in company, I felt surprized I 
 could engage with so much briskness in conversation; but I 
 was soon seized there with my grand complaint. I was sei/ed 
 there, on the Saturday following my arrival, with aparalytick 
 affection. I Vras obliged to take shelter in my bed, and 1 was 
 confined to my bed for several weeks: there I was cupped and 
 scarified, blistered and tormented, even pronounced to be in 
 great danger of my life once. Yet, I thank God, my spirits 
 were so firm in themselves, and so founded in confidence upon 
 God, that I did not believe I was in danger except once, and 
 even then did not fear the danger. I remember only to have 
 thought of'my expected death, as what would cut short my 
 publications, and deprive me of the honour I expected from 
 them. So faithful was my soul to her favourite passion, as 
 even in death to preserve my attachment to it! 1 prevailed, 
 however, upon my physician, Dr. Archer, of Bath, then upon 
 his annual excursion of a few months to Cheltenham, to let me 
 set out for Ruan. I therefore did set ou> with great satisfac- 
 tion, got to Bath that evening not very much fatigued, but 
 furnished with written directions from the Doctor for Mrs. 
 "W.'s management of me in future. At -Bath we staid four 
 days, visiting our friends, shewing them how much I was 
 pulled down by my late sickness, and hearing one of them 
 report that I looked worse when I went through before to 
 Cheltenham, than I now did on my return from it. In my 
 way back, I just called upon Mr. and Mrs. Thomas, stopping 
 at their gate, and announcing by my appearance how ill I had 
 been. 1 then turned away to examine the new road over the 
 marshes, a few miles off, which were the very marshes that 
 concealed King Alfred once, and of which I had taken only a 
 slight survey on going. I now took a full one on my return, 
 and I made out all that I wanted to know concerning it. 
 
 On my return home, I found I had been given up for a dead 
 man. Mr. Bedford, who had kindly acted as my Curate in 
 my long absence, and received letters from my wife or daugh- 
 ters, in the extreme moments of my illness, had very wisely 
 ordered my men to cut down my hay, in order to seture it for
 
 MEMOIRS OP WHITAKER* 159 
 
 the family. This circumstance flew of course, and made all 
 the neighbourhood conclude I was dead. So happily was the 
 hay saved from the very wet weather that ensued ; and so 
 convinced were all the gentlemen round that I had been in a 
 dangerous way, that they could hardly believe I was yet in a 
 safe way. Many came to call upon me who had not called 
 upon me for years. before, and perhaps will not call for years 
 hereafter.. 
 
 My looks, however, soon recovered themselves, and I ap- 
 peared as full and fresh in the face as I used to look ; but my 
 limbs were still languid, particularly ray legs, and (as my 
 writing even now shews) my fingers; yet, in spite of all, I 
 quickly got to my History of London, and was intending to 
 finish it, but as I was very cautious from my late illness, I 
 soon found it requisite for the sake of my health to desist; 
 yet I only desisted to change my object. Before I had un- 
 dertaken the History of London, 1 had written much upon the 
 History of Alfred. With a view to this, I had turned aside 
 to examine the marshes of Somersetshire ; and I now resolved 
 to substitute this history for that, as much easier in the exe- 
 cution, and to be executed much sooner. In this, therefore, 
 I have been employed ever since. Yet even this I have en- 
 larged so much by mixing with it the History of Oxford, that 
 I know not when I shall be able to finish it; I mean, how- 
 ever, to finish it at my full leisure. My experience of the 
 past has taught me not to be too eager for the present. And 
 I therefore look forward for the future as what will properly 
 fill up the remainder of my time. 
 
 I am glad to find from your letter that you have been able 
 to fix your son in the Marines, that he is now on board the 
 fleet, in that thirty-six gun frigate the Penelope, and that he 
 behaves extremely well, being not extravagant. I am also 
 very glad to hear your father is well, enjoying the charms of 
 musick at 78. 1 saw him in my two passages through Bath, 
 but was latterly too ill to stop his chair for talking with him. 
 
 In my first pass through Bath, I sent up to inquire after 
 Mr. Thomas, and found he was not at Walton ; when I saw 
 him at Walton, 1 could just note he did not look well, any 
 more than Mrs. Thomas ; but I was so ill then as not to be 
 capable of getting out of the chaise, and yet -of making 
 
 many inquiries concerning Alfred's road in the marshes ad- 
 joining. 
 
 I have seen Mr. Trist several times since I came home. I 
 called upon him the last time, hearing of an express arrived 
 at T regency, with the news of the dissolution of Parliament
 
 160 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES. 
 
 determined upon, and supposing; lie had not heard it. He had 
 not heard, though I had ; and we each of us made use of the 
 intelligence as we liked. 
 
 I am sorry I have not been able to write to you more fully 
 than I do. "But we have been waiting in expectation of hear- 
 ing-, every day, for three weeks past, of the death of Mrs. W.'s 
 sister, Miss Tregenna. You have seen her at this house, I 
 believe. Mrs. W. has been to visit her in her sickness re- 
 pmtedly at St. Columb. She has been with her. particularly 
 about ten days ago ; and every morning brings us the mourn- 
 ful expectation of her departure. My daughters have been 
 rpeatedly with their mamma there. Miss Tregenna has 
 much to bequeath ; but what she will leave to my family, I 
 cannot say. I am not so much in her favour as I should have 
 been if 1 had been less a dissembler. What she has, however, 
 I want not, being quite satisfied with what I have got ; and 
 very much with my kindest compliments to Mrs. H. my dear 
 Sir, hers and your friend and servant, 
 
 JOHN WHITAKER.
 
 MEMOIRS OF WHITAKER. 161 
 
 CHAPTER II. SECTION I. 
 
 In my anticipation introductory to this little sketch, 
 it has appeared, I conceive, from WHITAKER'S WORKS 
 and LETTERS that my judgement was not erroneous. 
 
 And now, on a ret i aspect ive view of his LITERATURE, 
 I would linger yet awhile. There are many who with 
 me, will linger; unwilling to let drop the curtain : And 
 there are many, on whose minds is, assuredly, left the 
 most pleasing impression ; whilst they feel, likewise with 
 me, that in their conversation with Whitaker, they have 
 had an intercourse of rare occurrence, even in this age 
 of intellectual excellence. 
 
 We have hailed him in the several departments of 
 the HISTORIAN, the ANTIQUARY, the DIVINE, the 
 CRITIC, and the POET. It is seldom, we are gratified 
 by such versatility : And still less so, by the splendor 
 of original genius exhibited in walks so various. 
 
 In characterising the several persons who have passed 
 under my observation, 1 have always aimed at indivi- 
 duality. And no literary censor, I presume to hope, 
 will object to the manner in which I have represented 
 our author ; whilst I pointed out his discriminating qua- 
 lities acute discernment, and a velocity of ideas which 
 acquired new force in composition ; with a power of com- 
 bining images irv a manner peculiarly striking, and of 
 throwing the strongest light on every topic of discussion. 
 If we borrow expression from picture, we may sum 
 tip his character in saying, that his style and that his 
 sentiment is as the mountain torrent; amidst shaggy pre- 
 cipices and romantic glens, illuminations bold and broad, 
 and depths of shadow magnificently gloomy ; abrupt- 
 o2
 
 162 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES. 
 
 nesses often repulsive to the spectator ; and scarcely ia 
 any instance the harmony of gentle transitions. 
 
 That men of genius have not always the merit of 
 patient exertion, is a trite remark. And certainly 
 splendid talents and studiousness are far from being un- 
 separable. But in his learned labours, Mr. W. was in- 
 defatigable, from his youth even from his boyhood. 
 
 Nil reputans actum, &c. &c. might well have been 
 chosen for his motto. Notwithstanding all he had done, 
 I heard him speak not many months before his death, of 
 " Notes on Shakspeare," and of " Illustrations of the 
 Bible" But he wished to finish his " Oxford," his 
 " London," and his " St. NeoP (already mentioned as 
 projected publications) before he resumed hi& (t Shaks- 
 peare," on which he had occasionally written notes 
 and to lay aside his " Shakspeare," before he took up 
 his " Bible" To the Bible he meant to withdraw him- 
 self, at last, from all other studies. It was " the Holy 
 of Holies," into which he longed to enter, and when 
 entered, there to abide. 
 
 All this, he intended to do. And all this, if some 
 few years had been added to his life, he would probably 
 have done. 
 
 With a view to the last three Antiquarian productions 
 (but chiefly to " the London") he determined " to visit 
 the metropolis." And thither he travelled with all the 
 ardour of youthful spirits. But, even for his athletic 
 frame he had a mind too restless, too anxiously inquisi- 
 tive. Amidst his remarks into the antiquities of the city, 
 his friends detected the first symptoms of bodily decay. 
 His journey to London, his daily and nightly sallies 
 whilst there, in pursuit of objects started every now and 
 then to the eye of the antiquary, and his energetic and 
 diversified conversation with literary characters, brought 
 on a debility; which he little regarded, till it alarmed 
 him in a stroke of paralysis. From this stroke, not long 
 after his return into Cornwall, he recovered so far as to 
 be able to pursue (though not many hours in a day) hi 
 accustomed studies. And it vr&s " the Life of St+ 
 Neot" that chiefly occupied his attention.
 
 MEMOIRS OF WHITAKER. 163 
 
 At the time of his death, St. Neot was in the press ; 
 and the preface prefixed to the volume by Mr. Stock- 
 dale the publisher, contains two letters of Whitaker, in 
 the last of which he still writes with confidence as to his 
 further plans alas, never to be completed ! 
 
 SECTION II. 
 
 This much for our friend's literature. Still, in recol- 
 lecting anecdotes of his MANNERS, his MORALITY, and 
 his RELIGION, 1 must detain my readers ; still, whilst 
 with pleasure and regret 
 
 " We cast one longing, lingering look behind !** 
 In the survey either of his public or his private character, 
 it is only for stupidity, or prejudice, or depravity, to dis- 
 claim such a feeling of delight. 
 
 His greatness as a writer, no one can question. And 
 that he was good as well as yreat, would appear in the 
 review of any period of his life ; whether we saw him 
 abandoning preferment from principle, and heard him 
 ** reasoning of righteousness and judgment to come'* 
 until a Gibbon " trembled;" or whether among his parish- 
 ioners we witnessed his unaffected earnestness of preach- 
 ing,* his humility in conversing with the meanest cot- 
 tagers, his sincerity in assisting them with advice, hit 
 tenderness in offering them consolation, and his charity 
 in relieving their distresses. It is true, to the same 
 
 * Yet a wealthy farmer of Ruan Lanyhorne told me (it was 
 before the march of intellect had commenced) that "iYJaister 
 mouthed it out enough, and that, after he had talked about tithe* 
 till all were tired to death, he took up a text on which he had 
 been preaching for many months." I asked the farmer, " What 
 was the text ?" He appeared a shrewd sort of man, but scratch- 
 ing his head, said, " I caaat bring et to moind, for the lift 
 o' me !"
 
 164 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES. 
 
 warmth of temper, together with a sense of rectitude,, 
 we must attribute an impetuousness that but ill brooked 
 opposition. 
 
 This precipitation was, in part also, to be traced to his 
 ignorance of the world ; to his simplicity in believing 
 others like himself precisely what they seemed to be; and 
 to his abhorrence of that dissimulation or hypocrisy which 
 had imposed on his credulity. 
 
 But his general good humour, his hospitality and his 
 pleasantry were sarely enough to atone for those sudden 
 bursts of passion those flashes which betrayed his hu- 
 man frailty. 
 
 That such simplicity and sincerity and quickness of 
 apprehension, and feeling alive at every pore, with a 
 kindness of heart, and an ingenuous promptness in con- 
 fessing an offence (the result of a sensibility too rapid 
 for discretion) were the leading traits of his character, 
 several anecdotes just recurring to memory will serve 
 to convince us. 
 
 Of his artlessness, one of the most pleasing proofs 
 was his conversing most affably <' with very young 
 people," his playful talk, indeed, with little children, 
 to whose level he loved to descend. Nor, in that fami- 
 liar intercourse was there any indication of a sense of the 
 eminence from which he stooped any appearance of 
 conscious greatness ; such as we have perceived in per. 
 sons, who seemed to exact a tribute of gratitude for the 
 honour conferred on their inferiors. 
 
 Notwithstanding his- stentorianism in the pulpit, he 
 had an odd squeaking voice when reading in a private 
 room. It was an under-tone ; a sort of chaunting . 
 so that his hearers would be apt to suppose, he was in- 
 tentionally burlesquing or ridiculing what he read. And 
 I remember hearing, that the young ladies (who were 
 visitors of his daughters) and in whose light and trivial 
 talk he had pleasure, could not help tittering at this 
 strange sort of recitative. But they well knew their 
 good humoured friend ; who would rather have joined 
 them in the laugh, than have resented it.
 
 MEMOIRS OF WHITAKER. 165 
 
 Ye(, in serious conversation, whether at his own 
 house, or elsewhere, he often betrayed an impatience 
 of contradiction ; and especially when the fashionable 
 modes of education or the philosophical mania of the 
 day, were commented upon or discussed. For instance, 
 he could by no means tolerate an academy. The very 
 name kindled up his anger. On hearing that that an- 
 cient Classic Seminary Truro-school had become an 
 " Academy" "What!" (he exclaimed) an Aca- 
 demy ! an Academy 1" And he was so choaked with 
 indignation, that for some time he could not utter a, 
 word more. * 
 
 * I am here reminded of a letter which, in July, 1818, ap- 
 peared in the Literary Journal, on a coincidence between Col- 
 man's " Eccentricities for Edinburgh" and " the Family Pic- 
 ture" on the subject of Academics. ' To point out," says the 
 writer, " resembling passages in contemporary poets, is not 
 only an agreeable amusement, but is, sometimes, on a higher 
 principle, the proper task of literary criticism. Coincidences 
 of thought or language are, I confess, frequently incidental; 
 yet there occur imitations, which authors ought to acknowledge 
 imitations which, passed by in silence, look very much like 
 plagiarisms." 
 
 \Vhetherthe writer of that admirable Essay on "the Marks 
 of Imitation" would hare considered the resemblance in the fol- 
 lowing passages as fortuitous or otherwise, an attention to those 
 "Marks" would enable us in some measure to determine: there 
 is certainly a strong similarity in sentiment and expression. 
 
 In his yery humourous performance, " Eccentric'uiet for 
 Edinburgh" Mr. G. Column thus satirizes " the Academies:" 
 
 " Some, too, for gain establish their abode 
 In perking mansions on the shadeless road ; 
 Exhibiting (right rural to behold) 
 The word * ACADEMY' in glittering gold! 
 
 ' With all of these on money-getting plans 
 Mix rustic shopkeepers and publicans. 
 And manufacturers from London poked, 
 Indicted thence for hawing stunk and smoked ! 
 Hail, regions of preparatory schools, 
 Of strict economists, and squand'ring fools- 
 Ye tallow-chandlers, who retired to gaze 
 At Paul's near dome, still sigh for melting days I 
 Ye derai-gentlemen 1" p. 97. 
 
 This poem was published so lately as 1817.
 
 166 
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES. 
 
 Of some recent geological discoveries he could not 
 bear even a whisper. And I once heard him attack with 
 the accusation of rank infidelity, a geologist who spoke 
 of a world of beings (of which relics more and more 
 came to light) antecedent to the Mosiac Creation of 
 Man.* That he was equally averse from the science 
 
 In a strain equally satirical, Mr. Polwhelehad, many years 
 before, exposed the Academies to ridicule in a poem, entitled 
 " The Family Picture." The last edition of this poem, was 
 published in 1810: 
 
 " In hamlets oft, green rails adorned with red 
 Point out the spot where female minds are fed ; 
 Or some pale nunnery, nigh the impending wood, 
 "Where in old time its refectory stood, 
 In golden gleams exhibits the burlesque 
 Of Education, from its walls grotesque ! 
 
 * To every gaping lout the letters stare, 
 And broad ' THE ACADEMY' for girls declare ; 
 While teachers, new from Town, each pathway cross,. 
 And in low curtsies lose the London-toss : 
 Smart milliners, who trick'd their friends in trade, 
 The cast-off mistress, or my lady's maid ! 
 
 "Thither, as humour hits, or whim provokes, 
 The obsequious thing attracts all sorts of folks, 
 In foremost rank the daughters of the Squire, 
 The Vicar's, treading just six inches higher ; 
 And into rage as imitation whirls 
 The Clown's vain wife,, her breed of ruddy girls r 
 And from the borough, buxom belles enough, 
 Damsels perfumed with Cheshire cheese and snuff; 
 Pert minxes, that shall soon import fine airs 
 To inspire the haberdashers of small wares." pp. 58 -9. 
 
 I am far from asserting that Colman's sketch of a modern 
 academy is copied from Polwhele's, or the accompanying re- 
 flections on the propensity of people in trade to ape the manners 
 of superior station. But it is pleasing to view poetic descrip- 
 tions and characters in comparison. Among the lighter amuse- 
 ments of the man of letters, nothing is better calculated to re- 
 lieve the mind : it is a sort of relaxation to which we gladly re- 
 sort, under the sultry influence of the Dog-star; when it is 
 scarcely possible to pursue severer studies without the occa- 
 sional repose of the fancy on a picture, or a poem. 
 
 I remain, Sir, yours, ALCJEUS." 
 
 * And our geologists have their revenge on Whitaker. I 
 have elsewhere observed (I believe) that Mr. Hawkins, in one 
 of his admirable essays, has noticed the fastidiousness of those
 
 MEMOIRS OP WHITAKER. 167 
 
 of law, I would not affirm. We should almost, however, 
 set him down for a Trunnion, rushing (as he once did) 
 upon a couple of Attorneys who, at his door, desired to 
 speak with him, and then swiftly retreating with the ex- 
 clamation: " In the clouds, gentlemen! in the clouds ! 
 I cannot come down to you, to-day !" The attorneys, 
 without an effort to draw him down from his aerial flight, 
 precipitately took their departure. 
 
 The suddenness of his anger was remarkable. But it 
 soon (as I have observed,) went off; not always a mere 
 flash in the pan. In fighting his Thhe battles, he lite- 
 rally laid low the sturdiest of his parishioners with the 
 squire at the head of them ! And, at a Special Sessions 
 at Truro, he threatened with a clenched fist an insolent 
 antagonist, and would perhaps have knocked him down, 
 had not the Justices interposed between the parties. 
 In a letter to Bishop Ross, the parishioners complained 
 of his violence. Tire letter was produced at a Visitation 
 at Truro; when the Bishop lamented, that so much of 
 his valuable time should be lost in petty disputes; ex- 
 pressing a deep sense of hfs eminence as an antiquary. 
 
 It is certainly to be regretted, that on some occasions 
 of excitement, though in his mind the agitation soon 
 subsided into a calm though the evaporation was like 
 the morning-mist and all was again clear sky; yet the 
 resentment of those whose opinions or whose conduct he 
 had arraigned, too often continued unsubdued or unap- 
 peased by time or circumstance. In the zeal of profes- 
 sional feeling, he had hastily represented to his Diocesan, 
 the Vicar of Veryan's irregularity in granting tickets 
 for Confirmation to some of his own Rvanites, whom he 
 had dismissed as incompetent, and 'with whom his good 
 neighbour could have had no concern. But, sorry as he 
 immediately after was, for his quickness in " marking 
 
 who sneer at the antiquarianism that runs counter to their po- 
 sitions in physiology. The tru'h is, most of these gentlemen 
 are deficient in historical knowledge or classical learning. 
 Half-educated, they assume to themselves those airs of import- 
 ance which we nerer see in the accomplished scholar.
 
 168 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES. 
 
 what was done amiss, 1 ' the Vicar could scarcely " par- 
 don him in that thing." 
 
 With the late Mr. Gregor of Trewarthennick, he 
 had an altercation relative to the tythes. And, pre- 
 viously to that altercation, Mr. Gregor had been rather 
 hurt at his deducing the lineage of the Gregors from the 
 merchant Gregor ofTruro. Mr. Gregor never after- 
 wards solicited his society. That two such excellent men 
 should not have mutually enjoyed the feast of reason, (in 
 such a remote situation, where so few " fine spirits'' have 
 an opportunity of meeting,) was a sad a sad affair : but 
 so it was. 
 
 Our friend's alienation from one or two other neigh- 
 bours, occasioned, likewise, much discomfort. Mr. Bed- 
 ford, the Vicar of Philleigh, was, I am persuaded, a 
 truly good man; attentive to all his parochial duties. 
 But it was an unfortunate moment in which he presented a 
 Mr. Rowe (a London travelling taylor) to the Rector of 
 Ruan Lanyhorne. The Rector's delicacy revolted from 
 the taylor's vulgarity. Nor was this all. Mr. Rowe's 
 mimicry of the Gerrans clerk, in singing the eleventh 
 psalm tl Why should I like some timorous bird, &c. 
 &c." Mr. W. protested against, as blasphemously lu- 
 dicrous. There was little interchange of civilities after- 
 wards between Philleigh and Ruan Lanyhorne. 
 
 We are here led to repeat the observation, that reli- 
 gion was invariably the primary object of Mr. W. its 
 principles, his support; its laws his guide; its sentiments 
 his delight and consolation. The least tendency to vio- 
 late its sanctity (as in the instance of the Gerrans 
 clerk) wai sure to raise his choler, and to bring down re- 
 buke on the careless or inconsiderate. 
 
 At his own table, I remember, whilst we were talking 
 of the porch of Bethesda and of the angel who came down 
 and troubled the waters, he darted an indignant look 
 against Dr. Cardew and myself, who were both disposed 
 to consider the angel as a human messenger employed 
 for that purpose, and not literally an angel from Heaven. 
 And he temerariously accused us of scepticism. After a 
 short pause, however, "the liquid ruby" sparkled as
 
 MEMOIRS OF WHITAKER. 169 
 
 before, to convivial cheerfulness and cordial friend- 
 ship. 
 
 U was on a visit to my vicarage at Manaccan, that 
 Mr. W. put "Justice Sandys" of the Lizard to the 
 rack ; extorting from that singular old gentleman a full 
 confession of his faith. Mr. Sandys, though he had a 
 sufficient insight into Whitaker's character, was yet 
 off his guard in speaking of the Athanasian Creed with 
 some degree of disrespect ; when W. to the astonish- 
 ment of the ladies present, started up from his chair, 
 and striding across the room, expressed his horror at such 
 an insinuation. I had myself heard Mr. S. speak slight- 
 ingly of the "Immaculate Conception." But so over-awed 
 was he by W. that he trembled from head to foot, and, 
 as soon as he could find utterance, avowed his unreserv- 
 ed belief in all the articles of the faith of a Christian. 
 The sensation, here again, was such, that a long and 
 awkward silence succeeded to this torturing conflict be- 
 tween the high Churchman and the Latitudinarian.* I 
 was not present, but Canon Howell (who was one of 
 the party) related to me the circumstance of Whitaker's 
 
 * To Mr. Sandys I was first introduced at a Truro Quar- 
 ter Sessions. It was not till the end almost of the week, I 
 remember, that another Justice arrived, to join him on the 
 bench. We can now muster thirty-five Justices or more. 
 About that time, he was called upon to preach a Visitation- 
 Sermon before Archdeacon Sleech. His brother clergy were 
 astonished at its Deistical tendency. At the dinner, when it 
 is usual to thank the Preacher, the good Archdeacon very 
 mildly said : " We are both getting old, Mr. Sandys ! Itwere 
 right that you and I should leave off preaching ! " But Sandys 
 was not then an old man. With his little flock at Landewed- 
 nack, he used to take strange liberties ; beginning the service 
 at what hour he pleased, and mutilating the Liturgy ad libitum, 
 and reading the lessons rapidly or slowly in proportion to his 
 interest in the subject of them ; commenting on this verse and 
 slurring over that ; at one time, delivering from the pulpit a 
 pathetic discourse ; at another, a sort of table-talk of which he 
 ought to have been ashamed. One Sunday, for instance, whena 
 friend of mine was present, he entirely omitted the first lesson. 
 "Here beginnetU" (cried old Sandys) "the 4th chapter of 
 the book of Judges" and, after a short pause: "It is the 
 story of a very wicked woman ! the less you know of her the 
 
 p
 
 T70 'BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES. 
 
 'remonstrating with my Lord of Derry, in consequence 
 of some irreligious levities which even Whitaker's pre- 
 sence could not sufficiently check in that amphibious 
 Bishop. The Bishop of Derry had, some years before 
 "Whitaker's death, the curiosity or the grace to visit him 
 -at R. Lanyhorne: We are all acquainted with that 
 Prelate's liberal sentiments. He had passed much time, 
 indeed, in Popish countries; where he so far lost the pre- 
 judices of the Reformation, as to think, on his return, 
 that a Popish prostitute was a proper guardian for a 
 young Protestant female of quality. Of such lax sen- 
 timents he was giving a specimen, in his conversation 
 with Whitaker ; when the rural rector started from his 
 chair, and struck his Lordship on the knee : " What, 
 
 my Lord ! (-said he) a Bishop !'' His Lordship 
 
 of Derry trembled, and begged pardon. 
 
 Amidst all this intrepidity, resulting from a rational 
 belief in Christianity, there was a simplicity in W. bor- 
 dering (some would say) on superstitious credulity. Of 
 three amiable daughters he had lost one. She was gone 
 to the invisible world : and W. often talked of her, as 
 there, in happiness. This was truly Christian. This 
 was like Gilpin ; who talked frequently with his wife of 
 the next world, as he would have spoken of the next 
 stage that was to terminate a journey. And, indeed, 
 I have heard W. conjecture, what his employment 
 might be hereafter, and whether he might not be per- 
 mitted to pursue studies congenial with his historica 
 researches. After this, we shall be less surprised at the 
 
 better So, my Brethren! we pass to the Te Deum!" It 
 was more than thirty years after his Visitation-Sermon, that 
 Bishop Buller at Helston-Church reproved him for his mutila- 
 tions and interpolations in a language and tone of unusual se- 
 verity ; and, on his denying the charge, confronted him 'with 
 the Churchwardens of his parish, and remarked onhisdisin- 
 genuousness in thus uttering a falsehood. In the evening, hrs 
 Lordship, feeling perhaps that he had spoken too harshly to so 
 aged a roan, was rather, I think, indiscreet in his concessions 
 and expressions of conciliation. "After all, Mr. Sandys ! it 
 was but a while lie !" said the Bishop to hispartuer at a rub- 
 ber of whist.
 
 MEMOIRS- OF- WHIT AKER.. 171 
 
 circumstance, that one day attending on a dying wo- 
 man in his village, be actually charged her with a mes- 
 sage to his deceased daughter, in the same language 
 almost as he would have used, had the woman beeu going 
 to some distance where his daughter resided. 
 
 To me, who believe in the recognition of friends here- 
 after, (and so believed Horsley and Paley and Wat- 
 son,)* the weakness of Whitaker, in this instance, ap- 
 pears an amiable, an enviable weakness ! *' Gilpin' 5 
 (said an intimate friend of his to me) " never doubted." 
 1 am sure Whitaker never did. And though they had, 
 perhaps, their weaknesses, their faith w-as settled in conse- 
 quence of a patient and persevering investigation of the 
 truth. It was not a blind adherence to prejudices : it 
 was the result of a rational conviction. 
 
 I think it is absolutely impossible that any of my 
 readers can dissent from me in the opinion that W. had 
 Religion without affectation. His Religion was genuine 
 was sincere. It had no methodistical. precision. He 
 loved to escort his wifet and his daughters to assemblies 
 and balls. He had no silly objection to whist ; though he 
 seldom or never played at cards. But his wife did : and 
 perfectly right was Mrs. W. in unbending her mind, in 
 an arausementj.to which none would object but gospel- 
 
 * Horsley, Paley, and Watson ! how pre-eminent as deep 
 reasoners and mathematicians ! I therefore cite the names of 
 Watson and Horsley and Paley, to put to shame the sceptical 
 scoffers, who attribute to a "flighty religiousness,' what 
 should rather he ascribed to Christian philosophy. 
 
 t A sister of Miss Tregenna, (Whitaker's wife) had been 
 engaged for many years to Tom (or Aldwinkle) Haweis : 
 which I should have mentioned in my sketch of that illustrious 
 Cornish Apostle. Hut it was, I believe, during his medical 
 apprenticeship at Truro, that he "courted" Miss Tregenna. 
 This was boy's love. The views, however, of lucre filthy 
 lucre opened upon the man: And all the fairy prospect of 
 young imagination vanished into air. In plain language, 
 Haweis was worse than his word. His plighted faithhe laugh- 
 ed at ; and perfidiously left the damsel to her fate. The first 
 lady Dr. Haweis married was in point of connection and fortune 
 (and every other respect I believe) an eligible choice. She 
 died : and be soon married another And, on the demise of his
 
 172 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES. 
 
 ers or fanatics. Bible-meetings were not so familiar to- 
 us twenty years ago, as they are now. But W. would 
 have reprobated the hypocritical invitation to "Tea and 
 Bible.* 
 
 As an instance of the rationality of his religion, I re- 
 member, when once dining at R. Lanyhorne in com- 
 pany with a sort of itinerant preacher, Whitaker rallied 
 him on his sanctimoniousness ; particularly when in the 
 midst of dinner, he got up in a hurry to consult the Poly- 
 second wife, he at once looked around for a third ; and took to 
 his arms a very pretty bar-maid at least an inn-keeper's daugh- 
 ter who repaid his fond embraces with a son, in his old age. 
 
 * " Often have I been shocked (said a late writer) when in 
 a drawing-room fitted up with all the luxuries of the world, 
 where, after a long gossip (during which conceit, malice, slan- 
 der and all uncharitableness were indulged) to close the scene 
 worthily the BIBLE was brought in I ! ! " 
 
 In his Life of Bishop Ken, my friend Canon Bowles very 
 pointedly observes : "God's commandments are ten :" But 
 our modern Evangelists have three great commandments viz. 
 " Thou shall not go to a Play " " Thou shall not touch a 
 Card" " Thou shall not dance." 
 
 It is unfortunate that such a man as Lord Teignmouth 
 should have lent a shelter to hypocrisy by a loo scrupulous 
 religiousness. In a recent Life of Sir William Jones, we 
 have this passage: "His biographer, Lord Teignmouth, is 
 half angry with him for not including religion in his estimate 
 of the means of human happiness. But the noble writer ought 
 to have given him credit, at least, if he did not specifically 
 class it in the list of enjoyments, which he was tracing in a 
 letter to a friend, for not excluding it. No man was better 
 convinced than Sir William Jones of the consolations which 
 religion imparts, and of the tranquillity it diffuses over the 
 hearts of all who are sincerely impressed with its truths. But to 
 place religion amongst our social enjoyments, is carrying the 
 matter too far, and claiming an ascendancy for religious emotions 
 which, in our present imperfect state, they will never exercise, 
 and which, probably, if they did exercise, would not strengthen 
 their hold upon the heart and its affections. Never was there 
 a sincerer, because there never was a more rational believer 
 than Sir William Jones : and it is one of the triumphs of our 
 common Christianity, thai besides the mighty names of Mil- 
 ton, Newton, and Locke, it may boast the suffrage of a mind so 
 pious without enthusiasm, as that of this amiable and accom- 
 plished scholar. Lord Teignmouth's expression of regre^ 
 therefore, thai in the playful picture of human happiness sketch?
 
 MEMOIRS OF WHITA'KER. 173 
 
 glott about a word which that instant occurred to him, 
 and not long after with great formality wished us a good 
 afternoon, setting off for Falmouth, where he had engag- 
 ed to preach that evening. 
 
 After the paralytic seizure, W. was not lost, at once r . 
 to society. I passed a long day with him, when he was 
 more than usually cheerful; implicitly trusting to his 
 physician, who had limited him to two glasses of wine, 
 and asking sportively : "May I not take another glass ?" 
 yet not daring to transgress. 
 
 During his illness, several of his neighbours, who to 
 all appearance had been alienated from him, called on 
 him, and sympathized in his sufferings with every token 
 of affectionate attention. And "1 thank God," he 
 would exclaim, " for this visitation ! I am happier than 
 1 have ever been. I am departing from this world; 
 and I see, at my departure, all ready to forgive my in- 
 advertencies and errors all kindly disposed towards 
 me!" His decline was gradual. Nor, melancholy as 
 it was, could a Christian contemplate it without plea- 
 sure; inasmuch as the strength of his faith and the calm- 
 ness of his resignation were more and more visible, un- 
 der the conviction that he was labouring under a disorder 
 from which he could not possibly recover, and which 
 threatened a speedy dissolution. His, in fine, were the 
 faith and the resignation which might have been judged 
 worthy of a primitive disciple of that Jesus, in whose 
 
 ed in a letter to Lord Althorp, his friend overlooked religion, 
 might as well have been spared. It savours of the hint given 
 to the slave in Terence : " Hcsc commemoratio ett quasi expro- 
 batioj" but by no means, we believe, intentionally , for his Lord- 
 ship, on all occasions, asserts, and vindicates with spirit, the 
 sincerity of Jones's religious principles, Nor should we have 
 been betrayed into a seeming digression, were we not involun- 
 tarily inclined to pick a quarrel now and then with those im- 
 portunate religionists, who are for ever desecrating religion by 
 mixing with every discourse and every amusement those hal- 
 lowed emotions, which ought to be reserved for the silent com 
 munions of the heart with God, or for the stated periods set 
 apart for liLs worship." See Asiatic Journal [N.S.] vol. 11. 
 p. 133.
 
 174 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES. 
 
 mercies he reposed, and to whose mediation alone he 
 looked with humble hope. And his decease was such as 
 could not but give comfort to those who viewed it ; 
 when (on October 30, 1808) in the awful hour which 
 "seemed opening upon the beatitudes of Heaven," at 
 peace with himself, his fellow creatures, and his God s . 
 he sank as into quiet slumber, or (to use the patriarchal 
 language) " fell asleep." 
 
 I shall conclude this unpretending narrative with 
 some testimonies which, among a thousand, have acci- 
 dentally occurred to me. They are testimonies that 
 shew how high was the reputation of Whitaker in the 
 minds of such men as BISHOP BENNET; Dr. LUXMOORE, 
 the late Bishop of St. Asaph; Dr. COLE, the late Rec- 
 tor of Exeter College; ARCHDEACON NARES; BISHOP 
 BURGESS; and DR. PARR.* 
 
 * This moment presented to me whilst revising the last proof- 
 sheet. 
 
 BISHOP BENNET to R. POLWHELE. 
 
 Dublin Castle, 7th March, 1793. 
 DEAR SIR, 
 
 The wish you have so publicly manifested for in- 
 formation relative to Devonshire, must lay you open to much 
 impertinent intrusion, and I fear you will have too much rea- 
 son to include this letter under the same censure. I cannot, 
 however, refrain from sending you a few remarks on the 
 Roman antiquities in the West of England ; which you have 
 my free consent to work into your own plan, making me a 
 slight acknowledgment in your preface, or if you think them 
 not worth notice, to throw them into the iire.f 
 
 **** 
 
 * ' * * * * * 
 
 " I fear, I have tired your patience by this long and unin- 
 teresting memoir, and I can only say, you are at liberty to 
 
 t For the Bishop's "remarfo" see History of Cornwall, 
 "Vol. III., pp. 83, 84, 85, 86.
 
 MEMOIRS OF WHITAKER. 175* 
 
 vent your indignation upon it, by throwing it into the fire, 
 for disturbing you in the midst of your important pursuits : 
 If, on the otnef hand, there is any thing in it worth your 
 notice, you are at liberty to insert it in your history in'any 
 shape you please. You are acquainted with a gentleman 
 who is the best judge now living upon these matters, and 
 whom I sincerely respect, though I have not the honor of 
 being personally known to him, I mean Mr. WHITAKER, to 
 whose History of Manchester I owe my first love for anti- 
 quarian pursuits, and in consequence, some of the most plea- 
 sant hours of my life: To his judgment and to your's- I 
 cheerfully submit.* 
 
 The BISHOP OF St. ASAPH had seen a memoir of 
 Whitaker in the Oxford Herald, and, talking with Dr. 
 Cole with expressions of high respect for our great anti- 
 quary, was pleased to speak very favourably of that lit - 
 tie piece of biography ; in consequence of which, Cole 
 cut it out of the newspaper, and inclosed it under the 
 Bishop's frank to me not aware that it had been written 
 by myself. COLE'S letter to me on the subject bears 
 date Dec. 10, 1808. 
 
 Mr. HARINGTON thus addressed me in 1809: "I 
 was much pleased, Sir, with your account of Mr. W. in 
 the Cornish paper ; and it is with pleasure I hear that 
 you are about publishing his Life. I have had the ho- 
 nour of being acquainted with Mr. W. fourteen years, 
 and am proud to say, have gleaned much knowledge and 
 entertainment from his sprightly and animated conver- 
 sation ; indeed, I quite idolize my old friend. He was 
 certainly a great and good man. I had the pleasure of 
 seeing in manuscript his London and Oxford, which I 
 hope will be given to the publick, as I am convinced, had 
 Mr. W. lived, he would have published them. I have 
 been greatly entertained with the Ancient Cathedral of 
 
 * It is strangely asserted in the obituary of the Gentleman'* 
 Magazine for April, 1830, p. 373, that the opinions of Mr. W. 
 (particularly with regard to Richard of Cirencester) are not to 
 be weighed against those of the late Mr. LEMAN. I can only- 
 say, that LEHAN, -who surveyed a great part of the island, in 
 search of Roman antiquities, in company with Bishop Bennet, 
 had the highest respect for W.as an antiquary.
 
 176 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES. 
 
 Cornwall, which my friend W. made me a present of. 
 I shall be happy to see the Life of Mr. W. whenever it 
 makes its appearance." 
 
 ARCHDEACON NARES to R. P. 
 
 Reading, March 30, 1809. 
 
 DEAR SIR, 
 
 To my various correspondents I fall occasionally in 
 arrear, and for this plain reason, because they are so various. 
 With you I have unhappily begun by being a defaulter, but 
 you must not conclude that it is the more likely to happen 
 in future. I received your small note proposing some books, 
 to which proposal I will now make answer : 
 
 Penrose's Sermons at Bampton's Lecture, are in hand. 
 
 Juvenile Dramas, I think we have a review of, though not 
 yet published. 
 
 Vancouver's Survey of Devon, is much at your service ; 
 the book I suppose you have. 
 
 I see there is a posthumous work of our friend Whitaker's, 
 which you may take into your charge. If you have not the 
 book, let me know and it shall be sent to you. 
 
 Being at present behind-hand in the collection of books, 
 I cannot now assign any other to your care : but when I get 
 a fresh supply, which will be very soon, I will consider you, 
 and will order the books to be sent as you direct. 
 
 I regret very much the death of the able veteran our friend 
 of Ruan Lanyhorne, though we had not latterly correspond- 
 ed. When he was the last time in London, I saw him, and 
 had great pleasure in conversing with him, which I had never 
 done before." &c. Sec. &c. 
 
 B. NARES. 
 
 P. S. Our common friend, Bailye, when I was at Lichfield 
 on residence in March, expressed great regard for you, and by 
 his conversation increased the interest which I already felt for 
 you, and made me seem to myself to have more acquaintance 
 with you. My friend W. L. Bowles, also, mentioned you 
 here lately, and regretted that your poem on Local Attach- 
 tenJ had not had the simple title of Home, 
 
 The short account of the FAMILY PICTURE which appeared 
 in the B. C. in Feb., was written by a friend, and insertod be- 
 fore I knew that it was yours.
 
 MEMOIRS OF WHITAKER. 177 
 
 In 1819, I was honoured with a letter from Bishop 
 BURGESS, whose kind attention to me I attribute not in 
 the slightest degree to my own merit, but wholly to his 
 respect for Whitaker. 
 
 Coulon.'s Hotel, Feb. 1, 1819. 
 REVEREND SIR, 
 
 Your two volumes of Sermons which you very ob- 
 ligingly promise me, will be very acceptable companions of 
 your Essay. 
 
 
 
 Is your sermon on St. Paul in your two volumes? 
 
 *#** 
 
 Has WHITAKER any where given a decided opinion on 
 St. Paul's preaching in Britain ?. I. trouble you with this 
 question, because I am still employed on the subject, having 
 an opponent in Dr. Hales, whose Essay on the Origin of the 
 British and Irish Churches will soon be published. 
 
 I am, Reverend Sir, yours faithfully, &c. &c. 
 
 To bring up the rear of panegyric shall t call it ? 
 here comes (with reverence be it announced) a letter 
 from the Bellendenus Parr! ! It was addressed to a 
 friend of the Doctor, a gentleman of this neighbourhood, 
 who has my best thanks for his kind communication. 
 
 MY DEAR SIR, Hatton, Feb. 18, 1822. 
 
 Whitaker was proud, capricious, impetuous, and in- 
 tolerant ; but he had many solid virtues and many valuable 
 acquirements. Of Greek he knew little; but he composed in 
 Latin with perspicuity and elegance. As an antiquary, he 
 has scarcely any superior: I have been charmed with his cri- 
 ticisms upon old English authors and old English words. 
 And, in the examination of his excellencies, let me not for- 
 get to state, that he wrote in the vernacular tongue with 
 energy and splendour. In politics, he bounced from one 
 extreme to the other; and though in religious matters his 
 acuteness preserved him from the stupid and absurd reason- 
 ings of the Tories, yet his angry passions always panted for 
 some prey. He prowled for it among the Unitarians : he at 
 full cry chased it among the Roman Catholics. You see that 
 I understand his character. But, with all our differences of 
 opinions and habits, I think him a man entitled to much 
 praise. I remain dear Sir, 
 
 your well-wisher and obedient servant, 
 
 S. PARK.
 
 ITS BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES. 
 
 That Dr. Parr, with all his prejudices political and 
 religious, should have spoken so highly of Whitaker, 
 was scarcely to be expected. "You see," sajs Parr, 
 *'I understand his character." But who acquainted in 
 the least with W. will assert that he was " proud '?" In* 
 what sense he was proud, is to me incomprehensible. 
 Pride in a good sense he certainly had. But had he 
 that "Pride which was not made for man?" Who- 
 " walked more humbly with his God ? M And, for his 
 fellow-mortals was he arrogant or haughty. superci-. 
 lious or fastidious? Was he not even exemplary in a 
 lowly submission to authorities in his deference to 
 rank or station in his regard for family-distinctions ? 
 And with hisinferiors, was he not affable to a degree of 
 familiarity? In literature, did he not uniformly rejoice 
 " in paying tribute where tribute was due" in assist- 
 ing- the efforts of genius, in applauding its success, and 
 often in hailing a superiority over himself, where the 
 world could discern no such excellence ? That he was 
 (f capricious" is a most ridiculous assertion. To his prin- 
 ciples and opinions, as we have seen, he adhered steadily 
 through life. In his friendships, he was firm and unshaken. 
 In him we never perceived even a shadow of changing. 
 Was this the case with Parr ? u Jmpetyous" he doubt- 
 less was. As, for, " intolerance,'' shall Earr lay this to 
 his charge Parr, who, inveighing against persecution,. 
 wasJbimself a persecutor as far as words would go ? What 
 shall we think of this, among other toasts given at the 
 celebration of the Doctor's birth-day, several successive 
 years before his death ? " Destruction, defeat, dis- 
 grace, to all the members of the Holy Alliance!" Parr 
 was known to refuse to drink " Church and King," with- 
 out qualifying the toast with ' many words.'' But 
 Parr was a trimmer. He temporised upon questions of 
 principle; and sacrificed consistency to popularity. Ob. 
 truding himself upon distinguished persons of all parties. 
 Parr was never at rest. I have always considered 
 smokeing as a symptom of indolence, or quiet acquies- 
 cence, or meditative tranquillity. That Parr was not
 
 MEMOIRS OT WHITAKER. 179 
 
 indolent, we all know. I assumed it, therefore, much 
 in his favour, that he was a smoker ; acquitting him of 
 any share in ; those revolutionary commotions, with which 
 Priestley and others of his republican friends werejustly 
 chargeable. But when I found that he was not only a 
 moker, but that he smoked to an excess, beyond all 
 other tobacco-lovers sometimes emptying even twenty 
 pipes in an evening, my opinion of his contemplative 
 serenity began to waver. Instead of the calm con- 
 tented spirit, I saw uneasiness in filling and puffing, 
 and knocking out and replenishing and puffing again 
 to the demolition, doubtless, of many a fragrant pipe! 
 How he would have acted, had he been invested with 
 episcopal authority, we cannot say. His ambition, 
 grasping at a mitre, saw all around him dazzled by its 
 new resplendence, and even his brother prelates doing 
 homage at his throne. Well was it for the Church, I 
 think, that the Revolutionist's " volo episcopari" was 
 uttered in vain ! 
 
 For Whitakcr's knowlege of Greek, I clearly recol- 
 lect that, occasionally consulting Polybius and other 
 Greek writers, 1 have noticed the fluency with which 
 W. read and translated the passages to which he refer- 
 red ; and I am sure that with tho Greek primitives and 
 their derivatives he was familiar to a great extent. In 
 his "Origin of Arianism," we have numerous pages of 
 Greek from Eusebius and others, translated and com- 
 mented upon, not much, I suspect, to the satisfaction of a 
 Unitarian ! That W., however, was equal to Parr in 
 Greek, who will presume to affirm; seeing Parr, one of 
 the Grecian trio who stood pre-eminent over all Europe 
 over all the world of literature ? In Parr's estimaj 
 lion, England could boast of three Greek scholars 
 only the first, Person; the third, Burney. Who 
 was " in medio," it were easy to guess. After all, 
 in this atmosphere of our celebrated Doctor, the 
 vapour seems to melt away, " as the cloud spread upon 
 the mountains," before "MANY SOLID VIR. 
 TUES," " MANY VALUABLE ACQUISITIONS,"
 
 180 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES. 
 
 "IN LATIN COMPOSITION PERSPICUITY 
 AND ELEGANCE," a decided " SUPERIORITY 
 over almost every ANTIQUARY," "CRITICISM 
 on ENGLISH AUTHORS to CHARM" the most re- 
 fined, and "ENERGY and SPLENDOUR" and 
 * ACUTENESS," and a "TITLE for MUCH 
 PRAISE" even from an adversary ! 
 
 To sum up all let me transfer to Whitaker from an 
 illustrious Roman, that elegant eulogium of a fine bio- 
 grapher : " Innocentia eximius, sanctitate praecipuus, 
 in toga modestissimus ; amicitiarum tenax; in offensis 
 exorabilis; in reconcilianda gratia fidelissimus.''* 
 
 * Velleius Paterculus II. 29. 
 
 T. R. GILL2T, JUN. PRINTER, TRUHO.
 
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