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+Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for
+eBook #55047 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/55047)
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-The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Gallery of Portraits: with Memoirs.
-Volume 1 (of 7), by Various
-
-This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most
-other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
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-Title: The Gallery of Portraits: with Memoirs. Volume 1 (of 7)
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-Author: Various
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-Release Date: July 5, 2017 [EBook #55047]
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-Language: English
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-*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GALLERY OF PORTRAITS, VOL 1 ***
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-
-                                  THE
-
-                         GALLERY OF PORTRAITS:
-
-                                  WITH
-
-                                MEMOIRS.
-
-
-                                VOL. I.
-
-
-
-
-                               COMMITTEE.
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-              Printed by WILLIAM CLOWES, Stamford Street.
-
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
-
-  UNDER THE SUPERINTENDENCE OF THE SOCIETY FOR THE DIFFUSION OF USEFUL
-                               KNOWLEDGE.
-
-
-
-
-                                  THE
-                         GALLERY OF PORTRAITS:
-                                  WITH
-                                MEMOIRS.
-
-                               VOLUME I.
-
-
-                                LONDON:
-
-                    CHARLES KNIGHT, PALL-MALL EAST.
-
-
-                                 1833.
-
-
-                   PRICE ONE GUINEA, BOUND IN CLOTH.
-
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
-
-
-
-
-                       PORTRAITS AND BIOGRAPHIES
-                       CONTAINED IN THIS VOLUME.
-
-
-                                            Page.
-                       1. Dante                 1
-                       2. Sir H. Davy          11
-                       3. Kosciusko            21
-                       4. Flaxman              27
-                       5. Copernicus           34
-                       6. Milton               43
-                       7. Jas. Watt            55
-                       8. Turenne              63
-                       9. Hon. R. Boyle        72
-                      10. Sir I. Newton        79
-                      11. Michael Angelo       89
-                      12. Moliere              95
-                      13. C. J. Fox           103
-                      14. Bossuet             113
-                      15. Lorenzo de Medici   122
-                      16. Geo. Buchanan       129
-                      17. Fénélon             137
-                      18. Sir C. Wren         144
-                      19. Corneille           153
-                      20. Halley              161
-                      21. Sully               169
-                      22. N. Poussin          177
-                      23. Harvey              185
-                      24. Sir J. Banks        193
-
-
-
-
-                                LONDON:
-                          PRINTED BY W. CLOWES
-                            Stamford Street.
-
-[Illustration:
-
-  _Engraved by C. E. Wagstaff._
-
-  DANTE ALIGHIERI.
-
-  _From a Print by Raffaelle Morghen, after a Picture by Tofanelli._
-
-  Under the Superintendance of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful
-    Knowledge.
-
-  _London. Published by Charles Knight, Pall Mall East._
-]
-
-
-
-
-                         GALLERY OF PORTRAITS.
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration]
-
-                                 DANTE
-
-
-While the more northern nations of modern Europe began to cultivate a
-national and peculiar literature in their vernacular tongues, instead of
-using Latin as the only vehicle of written thought, it was some time
-before the popular language of Italy received that attention which might
-have been expected from the prevalence of free institutions, and the
-constant intercourse between neighbouring states speaking in similar
-dialects. At last the example of other countries prevailed, and a native
-poetry sprung up in Italy. If it be allowable to compare the progress of
-the national mind to the stages of life, the Italian Muse may be said to
-have been born in Sicily with Ciullo d’Alcamo in 1190; to have reached
-childhood in Lombardy with Guido Guinicelli, about 1220; and to have
-attained youth in Tuscany with Guido Cavalcanti, about 1280. But she
-suddenly started into perfect maturity when Dante appeared, surpassing
-all his predecessors in lyrical composition, and astounding the world
-with that mighty monument of Christian poetry, which after five
-centuries of progressive civilization still stands sublime as one of the
-most magnificent productions of genius.
-
-Dante Alighieri, the true founder of Italian literature, was born at
-Florence A.D. 1265, of a family of some note. The name of Dante, by
-which he is generally known, often mistaken for that of his family, is a
-mere contraction of his Christian name Durante. Yet an infant when his
-father died, that heavy loss was lightened by the judicious solicitude
-with which his mother superintended his education. She intrusted him to
-the care of Brunetto Latini, a man of great repute as a poet as well as
-a philosopher; and he soon made so rapid a progress, both in science and
-literature, as might justify the most sanguine hopes of his future
-eminence.
-
-Early as he developed the extraordinary powers of his understanding, he
-was not less precocious in evincing that susceptibility to deep and
-tender impressions, to which he afterwards owed his sublimest
-inspirations. But his passion was of a very mysterious character. It
-arose in his boyhood, for a girl “still in her infancy,” and it never
-ceased, or lost its intensity, though she died in the flower of her age,
-and he survived her more than thirty years. Whether he was enamoured of
-a human being, or of a creature of his own imagination,—one of those
-phantoms of heavenly beauty and virtue so common to the dreams and
-reveries of youth,—it is extremely difficult to ascertain. Some of his
-biographers are of opinion that the lady whom he has celebrated in his
-works under the name of Bice, or Beatrice, was the daughter of Folco
-Portinari, a noble Florentine; while others contend that she is merely a
-personification of wisdom or moral philosophy. But Dante’s own account
-of his love is given in terms often so enigmatical and apparently
-contradictory, that it is almost impossible to make them agree perfectly
-with either of these suppositions.
-
-Whatever its object, his affection seems to have been most chaste and
-spiritual in its nature. Instead of alienating him from literary
-pursuits, it increased his thirst after knowledge, and ennobled and
-purified his feelings. With the aid of this powerful incentive, he soon
-distinguished himself above the youth of his native city, not only by
-his acquirements, but also by elegance of manners, and amenity of
-temper. Thus occupied by his studies, refined and exalted by his love,
-and cherished by his countrymen, the morning of his life was sunned by
-the unclouded smiles of fortune, as if to render darker by the contrast
-the long and gloomy evening which awaited him.
-
-His pilgrimage on earth was cast in one of the most stormy periods
-recorded in history. The Church and the Empire had been long engaged in
-a scandalous contest, and had often involved a great part of Europe in
-their quarrels. Italy was especially distracted by two contending
-parties, the Guelfs, who adhered to the Pope, and the Ghibelines, who
-espoused the cause of the Emperor. In the year 1266, after a long
-alternation of ruinous reverses and ferocious triumphs, the Guelfs of
-Florence drove the Ghibelines out of their city, and at last permanently
-established themselves in power. The family of Dante belonged to the
-victorious party; and while he remained in Florence, it would have been
-dangerous, perhaps impossible, to avoid mingling in these civil broils.
-He accordingly went out against the Ghibelines of Arezzo in 1289; and in
-the following year against those of Pisa. In the former campaign he took
-part in the battle of Campaldino, in which, after a long and doubtful
-conflict, the Aretines were completely defeated. On that memorable day
-he fought valiantly in the front line of the Guelf cavalry, manifesting
-the same energy in warfare, which he had displayed in his studies and in
-his love.
-
-But soon after the tumults of the camp had interfered with the calm of
-his private and meditative life, his adored Beatrice, whether an earthly
-mistress, or an abstraction of his moral and literary studies, was torn
-from him. This loss, which in his writings he never ceases to lament,
-reduced him to extreme despondency. Nevertheless in 1291, but a few
-months after it, he married a lady of the noble family of the Donati, by
-whom he had numerous offspring; a circumstance which would indicate a
-strange inconsistency of character, had his heart been really
-preoccupied by another love. This connexion with one of the first
-families of the republic may have smoothed his way to civic eminence;
-but if Boccaccio, usually a slanderer of the fair sex, be credited, the
-lady’s temper proved unfavourable to domestic comfort.
-
-He now entirely devoted himself to the business of government, and
-attained such reputation as a statesman, that hardly any transaction of
-importance took place without his advice. It has even been asserted that
-he was employed in no less than fourteen embassies to foreign courts.
-There may be some exaggeration in this statement; but it is certain that
-in 1300, at the early age of five and thirty, he was elected one of the
-Priors, or chief magistrates of the republic; a mark of popular favour
-which ended in his total ruin.
-
-About this time, the Guelfs of Florence split into two new divisions
-called Bianchi and Neri (whites and blacks), from the denominations of
-two factions which had originated at Pistoja, in consequence of a
-dispute between two branches of the Cancellieri family. The Bianchi were
-chiefly citizens recently risen to importance, who, having received no
-personal injury from the Ghibelines, were disposed to treat them with
-moderation; while the Neri consisted almost entirely of ancient nobles,
-who, having formerly been the leaders of the Guelfs, still retained a
-furious animosity against the Ghibelines. All endeavours to bring them
-to a reconciliation proved useless: they soon passed from rancour to
-contumely, and from contumely to open violence. The city was now in the
-utmost confusion, and was very near being turned into a scene of war and
-carnage, when the Priors, hardly knowing what course to pursue, invoked
-the advice of Dante. His situation was most perplexing and critical. The
-relations of his wife were at the head of the Neri; while Guido
-Cavalcante, his dearest friend on earth, was one of the foremost leaders
-of the Bianchi. Nevertheless, silencing all the claims of private
-affection for the good of his country, he proposed to banish the
-principal agitators of both parties. By the adoption of this measure,
-public tranquillity was for a time restored. But Pope Boniface VIII.
-could not suffer independent citizens to govern the republic. He sent
-Charles de Valois to Florence under colour of pacifying the contending
-parties, but in truth to re-establish in power the men most blindly
-devoted to his own interests. The French prince, after having made the
-most solemn promises to the Florentine government, that he would act
-with rigorous impartiality and adopt only conciliatory measures,
-obtained admission into the city, at the beginning of November, 1301.
-Making no account of the engagements he had entered into, he now
-permitted the Neri to perpetrate the most atrocious outrages on the
-families of their opponents, and to close this scene of horror by
-pronouncing sentence of exile and confiscation upon six hundred of the
-most illustrious citizens. Dante was among the victims. He had made
-himself obnoxious, both to the Neri, whom he had caused to be banished,
-and to Charles de Valois, whose intrusion in the internal affairs of the
-commonwealth he had firmly opposed in council. Accordingly, his house
-was pillaged and razed, his property confiscated, and his life saved
-only by his absence at Rome, whither he had been sent for the purpose of
-propitiating the Pope. Highly disgusted at the treacherous conduct of
-Boniface, who had been deluding him all the while with vain hopes and
-honeyed words, he suddenly left Rome, and hastened to Siena. On his
-arrival he heard that he had been charged with embezzling the public
-money, and condemned to be burned, if he should fall into the hands of
-his enemies. His indignation now reached its height; and in despair of
-ever being restored to his native city except by arms, he repaired to
-Arezzo, and united his exertions to those of the other Bianchi, who,
-making common cause with the Ghibelines, formed themselves into an army
-with the object of entering Florence by force. But their hopes were
-disappointed; and after four years of abortive attempts they dispersed,
-each in pursuit of his own fortune.
-
-The noble, opulent citizen, the statesman and minister, the profound
-philosopher, accustomed in all and each of these characters to the
-respectful homage of his countrymen, was now, to use his own words,
-“driven about by the cold wind that springs out of sad poverty,” and
-compelled “to taste how bitter is another’s bread, how hard it is to
-mount and to descend another’s stairs.” But the change from affluence to
-want was not the worst evil that awaited the high-minded patriot in
-banishment. For this he found compensation in the consciousness of
-having done his duty to his country. But he suffered much more from
-being mixed, and sometimes even confounded, with other exiles, whose
-perverse actions tended to disgrace the cause for which he had
-sacrificed all his private affections and interests. His misery was
-carried to the utmost by a continual struggle between his nice sense of
-honour and the pressure of want; by an excessive fear that his
-intentions might be misunderstood, and a constant readiness to mistake
-those of others. This morbid feeling he has pathetically expressed in
-several passages, which can scarce be read without profound emotion.
-
-In this mental torture he wandered throughout Italy, from town to town,
-and from the palace of one of his benefactors to that of another,
-without ever finding a resting place for his wounded spirit. He stooped
-in vain to address letters of supplication to the Florentines; the
-rancour of his enemies was not to be softened by prayers. Meanwhile the
-hopes of the Ghibelines were again raised, when Henry VII., who had been
-elected Emperor in 1308, entered Italy to regain the rights of
-sovereignty which his predecessors had lost. Elated by the better
-prospects which appeared to open, Dante became a strenuous advocate of
-the imperial cause. He composed a treatise on monarchy, in which he
-asserted the rights of the empire against the encroachments of the Court
-of Rome: he wrote a circular both to the Kings and Princes of Italy, and
-to the Senators of Rome, admonishing them to give an honourable
-reception to their Sovereign; and he sent a hortatory epistle to the
-Emperor himself, urging him to turn his arms against Florence, and to
-visit that refractory city with severe punishment. Henry did accordingly
-lay siege to Florence in September, 1312, but without success; and the
-hopes of the Ghibelines were finally extinguished in the following
-August, by his death, under strong suspicion of poison. Thus Dante, in
-consequence of his recent conduct, saw himself farther than ever from
-restoration to his beloved Florence. The unfortunate exile, now reduced
-to despair, resumed his wanderings, often returning to Verona, where the
-Scaligeri family always received him at their court with peculiar
-kindness. It has been asserted that his thirst for knowledge led him to
-Paris and Oxford. His journey to England is still involved in doubt; but
-it appears certain, that he visited Paris, where he is said to have
-acquired great fame, by holding public disputations on several questions
-of theology.
-
-On his return to Italy, he at length found a permanent refuge at
-Ravenna, at the court of Guido da Polenta, the father of that ill-fated
-Francesca da Rimini, for whom the celebrated episode of Dante has
-engaged the sympathy of succeeding ages. The reception which he
-experienced from this Prince, who was a patron of learning and a poet,
-was marked by the reverence due to his character, no less than by the
-kindness excited by his misfortunes. In order to employ his diplomatic
-talents, and give him the pleasing consciousness of being useful to his
-host, Guido sent him as ambassador, to negotiate a peace with Venice.
-Dante, happy at having an opportunity of evincing his gratitude to his
-benefactor, proceeded on his mission with sanguine expectation of
-success. But being unable to obtain a public audience from the
-Venetians, he returned to Ravenna, so overwhelmed with fatigue and
-mortification, that he died shortly afterwards, in the fifty-seventh
-year of his age, A. D. 1321, receiving splendid obsequies from his
-disconsolate patron, who himself assumed the office of pronouncing a
-funeral oration on the dead body.
-
-The portrait of Dante has been handed down to posterity, both by history
-and the arts. He is represented as a man of middle stature, with a
-pensive and melancholy expression of countenance. His face was long, his
-nose aquiline, his eyes rather prominent, but full of fire, his cheek
-bones large, and his under lip projecting beyond the upper one; his
-complexion was dark, his hair and beard thick and curled. These features
-were so marked, that all his likenesses, whether on medals, or marble,
-or canvas, bear a striking resemblance to each other. Boccaccio
-describes him as grave and sedate in his manners, courteous and civil in
-his address, and extremely temperate in his way of living; whilst
-Villani asserts, that he was harsh, reserved, and disdainful in his
-deportment. But the latter writer must have painted Dante such as he was
-in his exile, when the bitter cup of sorrow had changed the gravity of
-his temper into austerity. He spoke seldom, but displayed a remarkable
-subtleness in his answers. The consciousness of worth had inspired him
-with a noble pride which spurned vice in all its aspects, and disdained
-condescending to any thing like flattery or dissimulation. Earnest in
-study, and attached to solitude, he was at times liable to fits of
-absence. The testimony of his contemporaries, and the still better
-evidence of his own works, prove that his hours of seclusion were
-heedfully employed. He was intimately conversant with several languages;
-extensively read in classical literature, and deeply versed in the
-staple learning of the age, scholastic theology, and the Aristotelian
-philosophy. He had acquired a considerable knowledge of geography,
-astronomy, and mathematics; had made himself thoroughly acquainted with
-mythology and history, both sacred and profane; nor had he neglected to
-adorn his mind with the more elegant accomplishments of the fine arts.
-
-The mass of Dante’s writings, considering the unfavourable circumstances
-under which he laboured, is almost as wonderful as the extent of his
-attainments. The treatise ‘De Monarchia,’ which he composed on the
-arrival of Henry VII. in Italy, is one of the most ingenious productions
-that ever appeared, in refutation of the temporal pretensions of the
-Court of Rome. It was hailed with triumphant joy by the Ghibelines, and
-loaded with vituperation by the Guelfs. The succeeding emperor, Lewis of
-Bavaria, laid great stress on its arguments as supporting his claims
-against John XXII.; and on that account, the Pope had it burnt publicly
-by the Cardinal du Pujet, his legate in Lombardy, who would even have
-disinterred and burnt Dante’s body, and scattered his ashes to the wind,
-if some influential citizens had not interposed. Another Latin work, ‘De
-Vulgari Eloquentia,’ treats of the origin, history, and use of the
-genuine Italian tongue. It is full of interesting and curious research,
-and is still classed among the most judicious and philosophical works
-that Italy possesses on the subject. He meant to have comprised it in
-four books, but unfortunately only lived to complete two.
-
-Of his Italian productions, the earliest was, perhaps, the ‘Vita Nuova,’
-a mixture of mysterious poetry and prose, in which he gives a detailed
-account of his love for Beatrice. It is pervaded by a spirit of soft
-melancholy extremely touching; and it contains several passages having
-all the distinctness and individuality of truth; but, on the other hand,
-it is interspersed with visions and dreams, and metaphysical conceits,
-from which it receives all the appearance of an allegorical invention.
-He also composed about thirty sonnets, and nearly as many ‘Canzoni,’ or
-songs, both on love and morality. The sonnets, though not destitute of
-grace and ingenuity, are not distinguished by any particular excellence.
-The songs display a vigour of style, a sublimity of thought, a depth of
-feeling, and a richness of imagery not known before: they betoken the
-poet and the philosopher. On fourteen of these, he attempted in his old
-age to write a minute commentary, to which he gave the title of
-‘Convito,’ or Banquet, as being intended “to administer the food of
-wisdom to the ignorant;” but he could only extend it to three. Thus he
-produced the first specimen of severe Italian prose; and if he indulged
-rather too much in fanciful allegories and scholastic subtleties, these
-blemishes are amply counterbalanced by a store of erudition, an
-elevation of sentiment, and a matchless eloquence, which it is difficult
-not to admire.
-
-These works, omitting several others of inferior value, would have been
-more than sufficient to place Dante above all his contemporaries; yet,
-they stand at an immeasurable distance from the ‘Divina Commedia,’ the
-great poem by which he has recommended his name to the veneration of the
-remotest posterity. The Divine Comedy is the narrative of a mysterious
-journey through hell, purgatory, and paradise, which he supposes himself
-to have performed in the year 1300, during the passion week, having
-Virgil as his guide through the two regions of woe, and Beatrice through
-that of happiness. No creation of the human mind ever excelled this
-mighty vision in originality and vastness of design; nor did any one
-ever choose a more appropriate subject for the expression of all his
-thoughts and feelings. The mechanical construction of his spiritual
-world allowed him room for developing his geographical and astronomical
-knowledge: the punishments and rewards allotted to the characters
-introduced, gave him an excellent opportunity for a display of his
-theological and philosophical learning: the continual succession of
-innumerable spirits of different ages, nations, and conditions, enabled
-him to expatiate in the fields of ancient and modern history, and to
-expose thoroughly the degradation of Italian society in his own times;
-while the whole afforded him ample scope for a full exertion of his
-poetical endowments, and for the illustration of the moral lesson,
-which, whatever his real meaning may have been, is ostensibly the object
-of his poem. Neither were his powers of execution inferior to those of
-conception. Rising from the deepest abyss of torture and despair,
-through every degree of suffering and hope, up to the sublimest
-beatitude, he imparts the most vivid and intense dramatic interest to a
-wonderful variety of scenes which he brings before the reader. Awful,
-vehement, and terrific in hell, in proportion as he advances through
-purgatory and paradise, he contrives to modify his style in such a
-manner as to become more pleasing in his images, more easy in his
-expressions, more delicate in his sentiments, and more regular in his
-versification. His characters live and move; the objects which he
-depicts are clear and palpable; his similes are generally new and just;
-his reflections evince throughout the highest tone of morality; his
-energetic language makes a deep and vigorous impression both on the
-reason and the imagination; and the graphic force with which, by a few
-bold strokes, he throws before the eye of his reader a perfect and
-living picture, is wholly unequalled.
-
-It is true, however, that his constant solicitude for conciseness and
-effect led him, sometimes, into a harsh and barbarous phraseology, and
-into the most unrestrained innovations; but considering the rudeness of
-his age, and the unformed state of his language, he seems hardly open to
-the censure of a candid critic on this account. On the other hand, it is
-impossible not to wonder how, in spite of such obstacles, he could so
-happily express all the wild conceptions of his fancy, the most abstract
-theories of philosophy, and the most profound mysteries of religion. The
-occasional obscurity and coldness of the Divine Comedy proceeds much
-less from defects of style, than from didactic disquisitions and
-historical allusions which become every day less intelligible and less
-interesting. To be understood and appreciated as a whole, and in its
-parts, it requires a store of antiquated knowledge which is now of
-little use. Even at the period of its publication, when its geography
-and astronomy were not yet exploded, its philosophy and theology still
-current, and many of its incidents and personages still fresh in the
-memory of thousands, it was considered rather as a treasure of moral
-wisdom, than as a book of amusement. The city of Florence, and several
-other towns of Italy, soon established professorships for the express
-purpose of explaining it to the public. Two sons of Dante wrote
-commentaries for its illustration: Boccaccio, Benvenuto da Imola, and
-many others followed the example in rapid succession; and even a few
-years since Foscolo and Rossetti excited fresh curiosity and interest by
-the novelty of their views. Notwithstanding the learning and ingenuity
-of all its expositors, the hidden meaning of the ‘Divina Commedia’ is
-not yet perfectly made out, though Rossetti, in his ‘Spirito
-Antipapale,’ lately published, seems to have shown, that under the
-exterior of moral precepts, it contains a most bitter satire against the
-court of Rome. But whether time shall remove these obscurities, or
-thicken the mist which hangs around this extraordinary production, it
-will be ever memorable as the mighty work which gave being and form to
-the beautiful language of Italy, impressed a new character on the poetry
-of modern Europe, and inspired the genius of Michael Angelo and of
-Milton.
-
-There is no life of Dante which can be recommended as decidedly superior
-to the rest. The earliest is that of Boccaccio; but it evidently cannot
-be relied on for the facts of his life. There are others by Lionardo,
-Aretino, Fabroni, Pelli, Tiraboschi, &c. The English reader will find a
-fuller account prefixed to Mr. Carey’s translation of the ‘Divina
-Commedia,’ and in Mr. Stebbing’s Lives of the Italian Poets.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-[Illustration:
-
-  _Engraved by E. Scriven._
-
-  SIR HUMPHREY DAVY.
-
-  _From the original Picture by_
-  Sir Thomas Lawrence
-  _in the possession of the Royal Society_.
-
-  Under the Superintendance of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful
-    Knowledge.
-
-  _London. Published by Charles Knight, Pall Mall East._
-]
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration]
-
-                                  DAVY
-
-
-Where the length of the memoir necessarily bears a small proportion to
-the quantity of matter which presses on the biographer’s attention, two
-courses lie open to his choice; either to select a few remarkable
-passages in his subject’s life for full discussion, or to give a general
-and popular sketch of his personal history. The latter plan seems here
-the more advisable. To many readers a minute analysis of Davy’s physical
-researches would be unintelligible, without full explanations of the
-very instruments and objects with, and upon which, he worked. We shall
-therefore make it our chief object to trace his private history,
-interspersing notices of his labours and discoveries, but leaving to
-publications of expressly scientific character the task of doing justice
-to his scientific fame. Both departments have been fully treated in the
-Life published by Dr. Paris.
-
-Humphry Davy was born near Penzance in Cornwall, December 17, 1778, of a
-family in independent, though humble circumstances, which for a century
-and a half had possessed and resided upon a small estate situated in
-Mount’s Bay. Though no prodigy of precocious intellect, his childhood
-gave reasonable promise of future talent; and especially manifested the
-dawning of a vivid imagination, united with a strong turn for
-experiments in natural philosophy. One of his favourite amusements was
-to exhibit to his playfellows the operation of melting in a candle
-scraps of tin; or to make and explode detonating balls. Another was the
-inventing and repeating to them fairy tales and romances. At times,
-however, he would exercise his eloquence upon graver subjects; and, when
-no better could be obtained, the future lecturer is said to have found a
-staid, if not attentive, audience in a circle of chairs. At an early age
-he was placed at school at Penzance, where, in the usual acceptation of
-the words, he profited little: his own opinion, however, was different.
-“I consider it fortunate,” he wrote to a member of his family, “that I
-was left much to myself as a child, and put upon no particular plan of
-study, and that I enjoyed much idleness at Mr. Coryton’s school. I
-perhaps owe to these circumstances the little talents that I have, and
-their peculiar application: what I am, I have made myself. I say this
-without vanity, and in pure simplicity of heart.” He was soon removed to
-the school at Truro, where he remained two years, undistinguished except
-by a love of poetry, which manifested itself in composition at an early
-age. This, indeed, continued to be a favourite amusement, until, in
-mature life, he became absorbed in scientific pursuits: and it has been
-said upon high authority, that if Davy had not been the first chemist,
-he would have been the first poet of his age. This opinion must look for
-support, not to his metrical productions, which in truth nowise justify
-it, but to the vivid imagination and high powers of eloquence, which, in
-the vigour and freshness of youth, delighted the fashionable, as much as
-his discoveries amazed the scientific world.
-
-In 1794 his father died, and his mother in consequence removed from
-Varfell, the patrimonial estate, to Penzance, where Davy was apprenticed
-to Mr. Borlase, a surgeon in that town. For the medical part of his new
-profession he showed distaste; but his attention was at once turned to
-the study of chemistry, which he pursued thenceforward with undeviating
-zeal. Akin to this pursuit, and fostered by the natural features of his
-native country, was his early taste for geology. “How often,” said Davy
-to his friend and biographer on being shown a drawing of Botallack
-mine,—“how often when a boy have I wandered about these rocks in search
-of new minerals, and when fatigued, sat down upon the turf, and
-exercised my fancy in anticipations of scientific renown.” The notoriety
-which, in a small town, he readily acquired as the boy who was “so fond
-of chemical experiments,” introduced him to a valuable friend, Mr.
-Davies Gilbert, in early life his patron, in mature age his successor in
-the chair of the Royal Society. By him the young man was introduced to
-Dr. Beddoes, who was at that time seeking an assistant in conducting the
-Pneumatic Institution, then newly established at Bristol, for the
-purpose of investigating the properties of aeriform fluids, and the
-possibility of using them as medical agents. It was not intended that,
-in forming this engagement, Davy should give up the line of life marked
-out for him; on the contrary, his abode at Bristol was considered part
-of his professional education. But his genius led him another way, and
-this lucky engagement opened a career of usefulness and fame, which
-under other circumstances might have been long delayed. The arrangement
-was concluded upon liberal terms, and in October, 1798, before he was
-twenty years old, he left his home in high spirits to enter upon
-independent life. It is to his honour, that as soon as a competent,
-though temporary provision was thus secured, he resigned, in favour of
-his mother and sisters, all his claims upon the paternal estate.
-
-Soon after removing to Bristol, he published, in a work entitled
-‘Contributions to Medical and Physical Knowledge,’ edited by Dr.
-Beddoes, some essays on heat, light, and respiration. Of these it will
-be sufficient to say, that with much promise of future excellence, they
-show a most unbridled imagination, and contain many speculations so
-unfounded and absurd, that in after-life he bitterly regretted their
-publication. During his engagement, his zeal and intrepidity were
-signally displayed in attempts to breathe different gases, supposed, or
-known, to be highly destructive to life, with a view to ascertain the
-nature of their effects. Two of these experiments, the inhaling of
-nitrous gas and carburetted hydrogen are remarkable, because in each he
-narrowly escaped death. But his attention was especially turned to the
-gas called nitrous oxide, which, upon respiration, appeared to transport
-the breather into a new and highly pleasurable state of feeling, to
-rouse the imagination, and give new vigour to the most sublime emotions
-of the soul. The effects produced, exaggerated by the enthusiasm of the
-patients, were in fact closely analogous to intoxication; and many
-persons still remember the curiosity and amusement, excited by the
-freaks of poets and grave philosophers, while under the operation of
-this novel stimulus. In 1800 he published ‘Researches Chemical and
-Philosophical, respecting Nitrous Oxide and its Respiration.’ The
-novelty of the results announced, combined with the ability shown in
-their investigation, and the youth of the author, produced a great
-sensation in philosophical circles; and through the celebrity thus
-acquired, and the favourable opinion of him formed upon personal
-acquaintance by several eminent philosophers of the day, he was offered
-by the conductors of the Royal Institution, the office of Assistant
-Lecturer in Chemistry, with the understanding that ere long he should be
-made sole Professor. This negotiation took place in the spring of 1801,
-and on May 31, 1802, he was raised to the higher appointment.
-
-To Davy, the quitting Bristol for London was the epoch of a
-transformation—an elevation from the chrysalis to the butterfly state.
-In youth his person, voice, and address were alike uncouth; and at first
-sight they produced so unfavourable an impression upon Count Rumford,
-that he expressed much regret at having sanctioned so unpromising an
-engagement. The veteran philosopher soon found reason to change his
-opinion. Davy’s first course of lectures, which was not delivered till
-the spring of 1802, excited a sensation unequalled before or since. Not
-only the philosophical but the literary and fashionable world crowded to
-hear him; and his vivid imagination, fired by enthusiastic love for the
-science which he professed, gave, to one of the most abstruse of
-studies, a charm confessed by persons the least likely to feel its
-influence. The strongest possible testimony to his richness of
-illustration is supplied by Mr. Coleridge:—“I go,” he said, “to Davy’s
-lectures to increase my stock of metaphors.” Had this been all, the
-young prodigy would soon have ceased to dazzle; but his fame was
-maintained and increased by the success which waited on his
-undertakings; and, in a word, Davy became the lion of the day. The
-effect of this sudden change was by no means good. Sought and caressed
-by the highest circles of the metropolis, he endeavoured to assume the
-deportment of a man of fashion; but the strange dress sat awkwardly, and
-ill replaced a natural candour and warmth of feeling, which had
-singularly won upon the acquaintance of his early life. It is but
-justice, however, to add that his regard for his family and early
-friends was not cooled by this alteration in his society and prospects.
-
-Our limits are too narrow to admit even a sketch of the various trains
-of original investigation pursued by Davy, during his connection with
-the Institution. Of these, the most important is that series of
-electrical inquiries pursued from 1800 to 1806, the results of which
-were developed in his celebrated first Bakerian Lecture, delivered in
-the autumn of the latter year, before the Royal Society, which received
-from the French Institute the prize of 3000 francs, established by the
-First Consul, for the best experiment in electricity or galvanism. In it
-he investigated the nature of electric action, and disclosed a new class
-of phenomena illustrative of the power of the Voltaic battery in
-decomposing bodies; which, in the following year, led to the most
-striking of his discoveries, the resolution of the fixed alkalies,
-potash and soda, into metallic bases. This discovery took place in
-October, 1807, and was published in his second Bakerian Lecture,
-delivered in the following November. The novelty and brilliancy of the
-view thus opened, raised public curiosity to the highest pitch: the
-laboratory of the Institution was crowded with visitors, and the high
-excitement thus produced, acting upon a frame exhausted by fatigue,
-produced a violent fever, in which for many days, he lay between life
-and death. Not until the following March was he able to resume his
-duties as a lecturer.
-
-During the next four years he was chiefly employed in endeavouring to
-decompose other bodies, in prosecuting his inquiries into the nature of
-the alkalies and in obtaining similar metallic bases from the earths, in
-which he partially succeeded. The resolution of nitrogen was attempted
-without success. In tracing the nature of muriatic and oxymuriatic acid,
-he was more fortunate; and proved the latter to be an undecompounded
-substance, in direct opposition to his own opinion, recorded at an
-earlier period. This discovery is the more honourable, for nothing
-renders the admission of truth so difficult, as having advocated error.
-
-On the 8th April, 1812, he received the honour of knighthood from the
-Prince Regent, in testimony of his scientific merits. This was the more
-welcome, because he was on the eve of exchanging a life of professional
-labour for one, not of idleness, for he pursued his course of discovery
-with unabated zeal, but of affluence and independence. On the 11th of
-the same month, he married Mrs. Apreece, a lady possessed of ample
-fortune; previous to which he delivered his farewell lecture to the
-Royal Institution. At the same time he appears to have resigned the
-office of Secretary to the Royal Society, to which he had been appointed
-in 1807. Two months afterwards he published ‘Elements of Chemical
-Philosophy,’ which he dedicated to Lady Davy, “as a pledge that he
-should continue to pursue science with unabated ardour.” In March, 1813,
-appeared the ‘Elements of Agricultural Chemistry,’ containing the
-substance of a course of lectures delivered for ten successive seasons
-before the Board of Agriculture.
-
-That part of the Continent which was under French influence, being
-strictly closed against the English at this time, it is much to the
-credit of Napoleon, that he immediately assented to a wish expressed by
-Davy, and seconded by the Imperial Institute, that he might be allowed
-to visit the extinct volcanoes in Auvergne, and thence proceed to make
-observations on Vesuvius while in a state of action. He reached Paris,
-Oct. 27th, 1813. The French philosophers received him with enthusiasm:
-it is to be regretted that at the time of his departure their feelings
-were much less cordial. There was a coldness, and pride, or what seemed
-pride, in his manner, which disgusted a body of men too justly sensible
-of their own merit to brook slights; especially when, in spite of
-national jealousy, they had done most cordial and unhesitating justice
-to the transcendent achievements of the British philosopher. Nor was
-this the only ground for dissatisfaction. Iodine had been recently
-discovered in Paris, but its nature was still unknown. Davy obtained a
-portion, and proceeded to experiment upon it. This was thought by many
-an unfair interference with the fame and rights of the original
-investigators. Davy himself felt that some explanation at least was due,
-in a paper which he transmitted to the Royal Society; and as the passage
-in question contained what, though perhaps not meant to be such, might
-easily be construed into an insinuation, that but for him, the results
-communicated in that paper might not have been obtained, it was not
-likely to conciliate. There is probably much truth in the excuse offered
-by his biographer, for the superciliousness charged against him upon
-this, and other occasions, that it was merely the cloak of a perpetual
-and painful timidity.
-
-It is remarkable that, with a highly poetical temperament, he seems to
-have been senseless to the beauties of art. The wonders of the Louvre
-extracted no sign of pleasure: he paced the rooms with hurried steps, in
-apathy, roused only by the sight of an Antinous sculptured in alabaster,
-“Gracious Heaven!” he then exclaimed, “what a beautiful stalactite.”
-
-From Paris, Dec. 29th, he proceeded without visiting Auvergne, to
-Montpellier, Genoa, Florence, Rome, and Naples, which he reached May
-8th, 1814. At various places he prosecuted his researches upon iodine;
-and at Florence, he availed himself of the great burning lens to
-experiment upon the combustion of the diamond, and other forms of
-carbon. At Naples and Rome he instituted a minute and laborious inquiry
-into the colours used in painting by the ancients; the results of which
-appeared in the Philosophical Transactions for 1815.
-
-The autumn of 1815 is rendered memorable by the discovery of the
-safety-lamp, one of the most beneficial applications of science to
-economical purposes yet made, by which hundreds, perhaps thousands, of
-lives have been preserved. Davy was led to the consideration of this
-subject by an application from Dr. Gray, now Bishop of Bristol, the
-Chairman of a Society established in 1813, at Bishop-Wearmouth, to
-consider and promote the means of preventing accidents by fire in
-coal-pits. Being then in Scotland, he visited the mines on his return
-southward, and was supplied with specimens of fire-damp, which, on
-reaching London, he proceeded to examine. He soon discovered that the
-carburetted hydrogen gas, called fire-damp by the miners, would not
-explode when mixed with less than six, or more than fourteen times its
-volume of air; and further, that the explosive mixture could not be
-fired in tubes of small diameters and proportionate lengths. Gradually
-diminishing their dimensions, he arrived at the conclusion that a tissue
-of wire, in which the meshes do not exceed a certain small diameter,
-which may be considered as the ultimate limit of a series of such tubes,
-is impervious to the inflamed air; and that a lamp covered with such
-tissue, may be used with perfect safety even in an explosive mixture,
-which takes fire, and burns within the cage, securely cut off from the
-power of doing harm. Thus when the atmosphere is so impure that the
-flame of the lamp itself cannot be maintained, the _Davy_ still supplies
-light to the miner, and turns his worst enemy into an obedient servant.
-This invention, the certain source of large profit, he presented with
-characteristic liberality to the public. The words are preserved, in
-which when pressed to secure to himself the benefit of it by a patent,
-he declined to do so, in conformity with the high-minded resolution
-which he formed upon acquiring independent wealth, of never making his
-scientific eminence subservient to gain:—“I have enough for all my views
-and purposes, more wealth might be troublesome, and distract my
-attention from those pursuits in which I delight. More wealth could not
-increase my fame or happiness. It might undoubtedly enable me to put
-four horses to my carriage, but what would it avail me to have it said,
-that Sir Humphry drives his carriage and four?” He who used wealth and
-distinction to such good purpose, may be forgiven the weakness if he
-estimated them at too high a value.
-
-The coal-owners of the north presented to him a service of plate, in
-testimony of their gratitude. He underwent, however, considerable
-vexation from claims to priority of invention, set up by some persons
-connected with the collieries, whose attention had been turned with very
-imperfect success to the same end. The controversy has long been settled
-in his favour, by the decision of the most eminent names in British
-science, and the general voice of the owners of the Newcastle
-coal-field: and while the pits are worked, the name of Davy, given by
-the colliers to the safety-lamp, cannot be forgotten.
-
-In 1818 he again visited Naples, with a view of applying the resources
-of chemistry to facilitate the unrolling of the papyri found in
-Herculaneum. These, it is well known, are generally in a state
-resembling charcoal, often cemented into a solid mass, and the texture
-so entirely destroyed, that it is hardly possible to separate the
-layers. Examination of some specimens transmitted to England satisfied
-him that they had not been subjected to heat, and that instead of being
-a true charcoal, they were analogous to peat or to the lignite called
-Bovey coal. He concluded, therefore, that the rolls were cemented into
-one mass by a substance produced by fermentation in their vegetable
-substance, and hoped to be able so far to destroy this, as to facilitate
-the detaching one layer from another, without obliterating the writing.
-With this view he submitted fragments to the operation of chlorine and
-iodine, with such fair hope of success, that he was encouraged to
-proceed to Naples; the Government furnishing him with every
-recommendation, and defraying the expenses of such assistants as he
-thought it necessary to take out. His success, however, fell short of
-his hopes; and partly from disappointment, partly from a belief that
-unfair obstacles were thrown in his way by interested persons, he
-abandoned the undertaking at the end of two months, having partially
-unrolled twenty-three MSS. and examined about one hundred and twenty,
-which offered no prospect of success. His visit to Naples led, however,
-to one conclusion of interest to geologists, that the strata which cover
-Herculaneum are not lava, but a tufa consolidated by moisture, and
-resembling that at Pompeii except in its hardness.
-
-In October, 1818, Sir Humphry Davy was created a baronet, as a reward
-for his scientific services. Soon after his return to England in 1820,
-died Sir Joseph Banks, the venerable President of the Royal Society.
-Davy succeeded to the chair, which he retained till forced to quit it by
-ill health, zealous in fulfilling its duties, without relaxing in his
-private labours. It would have been better had he not obtained this
-honour. His scientific pride disgusted some; his aristocratic airs,
-unpardonable in one so humbly born, excited the ridicule of others. Much
-of this weakness may be traced to the pernicious effects of early
-flattery. Had he been content with chemical fame, he would have spared
-some mortifications and heart-burnings both to himself and others. His
-demeanour changed, immediately after the delivery of his first lecture.
-On the following day he dined with his early friend and patron, Sir
-Henry Englefield, who, speaking of his behaviour on that day after
-eighteen years had elapsed, said, “It was the last effort of expiring
-nature.” Such frailties, though just grounds of censure and regret to
-his contemporaries, will be lost in the splendour of his discoveries.
-Yet is the observation of them not useless as a warning to others: for
-the higher the station, the more closely will the actions of him who
-fills it be scrutinised, especially if his elevation be the work of his
-own hands.
-
-In 1823 he undertook, in consequence of an application from Government
-to the Royal Society, an inquiry into the possibility of preventing the
-rapid decay of the copper sheathing of ships. His former Voltaic
-discoveries at once explained the cause and suggested a remedy. When two
-metals in contact with each other are exposed to moisture, the more
-oxidable rapidly decays, while on the less oxidable no effect is
-produced. Thus a very small piece of iron or zinc was found effectually
-to stop the solution of a very large surface of copper. Several ships
-were accordingly fitted with _protectors_, as they were called, which
-succeeded perfectly in preserving the copper; but their use was found to
-be attended by an evil greater than that which they remedied. The ships’
-bottoms grew foul with unexampled rapidity; and the protectors were
-finally abandoned by the Admiralty in 1828. This failure was a source of
-much ill-natured remark to the many whom Davy had offended, or who were
-jealous of his reputation, and of deep mortification to himself. Indeed
-he displayed an impatience of censure, and irritability of temper, far
-from dignified: the spoilt child of fortune, he could not bear the
-feeling of defeat, still less the triumph of his enemies. This weakness
-may perhaps be partly ascribed to declining health, which must always
-more or less overcloud the mind, especially of one whose amusements as
-well as his employments were of an active and stirring kind. To the
-sports of fly-fishing and shooting he was devotedly attached; and
-jealous, even to a ludicrous degree, of his reputation and success,
-which it is said not always to have been so great as he would willingly
-have had it believed. But his failing health gradually curtailed his
-enjoyment of these pleasures, and towards the end of 1825, the
-indisposition which his friends had long seen stealing on him reached
-its crisis in the form of an apoplectic attack. All immediate cause of
-alarm was soon removed; but the traces of his illness remained in a
-slight degree of paralysis, which impaired, though without materially
-affecting, his muscular powers. By the advice of his physicians he
-hastened abroad, and passed the rest of the winter, and the spring, at
-Ravenna. In the summer he visited the Tyrol and Illyria, and finding his
-health still precarious, resigned the chair of the Royal Society. In the
-autumn he returned to England, having gained little strength. The early
-winter he spent in Somersetshire, at the house of an old and valued
-friend, too weak for severe mental exertion, or to pursue successfully
-his favourite sports. Yet the ruling passion was still shown in the
-amusement of his sick hours, which were chiefly devoted to the
-preparation of ‘Salmonia.’ Of the merits of this book as a manual for
-the fly-fisher, we presume not to speak. To the general reader it may be
-safely recommended, as containing many eloquent and poetical passages,
-with much amusing information respecting the varieties and habits of the
-trout and salmon species, and of the insect tribes on which they feed.
-
-In the spring of 1828, Davy once more sought the Continent in search of
-health. His steps were turned to that favourite district, of which he
-speaks as the “most glorious country in Europe, Illyria and Styria;”
-where he solaced the weary hours of sickness, by such field-sports as
-his failing health enabled him to pursue, in the revision of an improved
-edition of ‘Salmonia,’ and in the composition of the ‘Last Days of a
-Philosopher.’ Of this he says, in a letter dated Rome, February 6, 1829,
-“I write and philosophise a good deal, and have nearly finished a work
-with a higher aim than ‘Salmonia.’ It contains the essence of my
-philosophical opinions, and some of my poetical reveries.” Under this
-sanction, the reader will peruse with pleasure the sketch contained in
-the third dialogue of a geological history of the earth, and the other
-questions of natural philosophy which are discussed. A large portion of
-the work is occupied by metaphysical and religious disquisitions. As a
-moral philosopher, his opinions do not seem entitled to peculiar weight.
-Of his visionary excursion to the limits of the solar system, it is not
-fair to speak but as the play of an exuberant imagination, mastering the
-sober faculties of the mind. The work contains many passages, reflective
-and descriptive, of unusual beauty; and is a remarkable production to
-have been composed under the wasting influence of that disease, which,
-of all others, usually exerts the most benumbing influence.
-
-The winter of 1828–9 he spent at Rome; with returning spring he
-expressed a wish to visit Geneva, but his hours were numbered. He
-reached that city on May 28, unusually cheerful; dined heartily on fish,
-and desired to be daily supplied with every variety which the lake
-afforded: a trifling circumstance, yet interesting from its connection
-with his love of sport. In the course of the night he was seized with a
-fresh attack, and expired early in the morning without a struggle. His
-remains were honoured by the magistrates with a public funeral, and
-repose in the cemetery of Plain Palais. He died without issue, and the
-baronetcy is in consequence extinct.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-[Illustration:
-
-  _Engraved by W. Holl._
-
-  KOSCIUSZKO.
-
-  _From a Print engraved in 1829 by A. Pleszczynski, a Pole._
-
-  Under the Superintendance of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful
-    Knowledge.
-
-  _London. Published by Charles Knight, Pall Mall East._
-]
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration]
-
-                               KOSCIUSKO
-
-
-Among the remarkable men of modern times, there is perhaps none, whose
-fame is purer from reproach, than that of Thaddeus Kosciusko. His name
-is enshrined in the ruins of his unhappy country, which, with heroic
-bravery and devotion, he sought to defend against foreign oppression,
-and foreign domination. Kosciusko was born at Warsaw, about the year
-1755. He was educated at the school of Cadets, in that city, where he
-distinguished himself so much in scientific studies as well as in
-drawing, that he was selected as one of four students of that
-institution, who were sent to travel at the expense of the state, with a
-view of perfecting their talents. In this capacity he visited France,
-where he remained for several years, devoting himself to studies of
-various kinds. On his return to his own country he entered the army, and
-obtained the command of a company. But he was soon obliged to expatriate
-himself again, in order to fly from a violent but unrequited passion,
-for the daughter of the Marshal of Lithuania, one of the first officers
-of state of the Polish court.
-
-He bent his step to that part of North America, which was then waging
-its war of independence against England. Here he entered the army, and
-served with distinction, as one of the adjutants of General Washington.
-While thus employed, he became acquainted with La Fayette, Lameth, and
-other distinguished Frenchmen, serving in the same cause; and was
-honoured by receiving the most flattering praises from Franklin, as well
-as the public thanks of the Congress of the United Provinces. He was
-also decorated with the new American order of Cincinnatus, being the
-only European, except La Fayette, to whom it was given.
-
-At the termination of the war he returned to his own country, where he
-lived in retirement till the year 1789, at which period he was promoted
-by the Diet to the rank of Major-General. That body was at this time
-endeavouring to place its military force upon a respectable footing, in
-the vain hope of restraining and diminishing the domineering influence
-of foreign powers, in what still remained of Poland. It also occupied
-itself in changing the vicious constitution of that unfortunate and
-ill-governed country—in rendering the monarchy hereditary—in declaring
-universal toleration—and in preserving the privileges of the nobility,
-while at the same time it ameliorated the condition of the lower orders.
-In all these improvements, Stanislas Poniatowski, the reigning king,
-readily concurred; though the avowed intention of the Diet was, to
-render the crown hereditary in the Saxon family. The King of Prussia
-(Frederic William II.), who, from the time of the Treaty of Cherson in
-1787, between Russia and Austria, had become hostile to the former
-power, also encouraged the Poles in their proceedings; and even gave
-them the most positive assurances of assisting them, in case the changes
-they were effecting occasioned any attacks from other sovereigns.
-
-Russia at length, having made peace with the Turks, prepared to throw
-her sword into the scale. A formidable opposition to the measures of the
-Diet had arisen, even among the Poles themselves, and occasioned what
-was called the confederation of Targowicz, to which the Empress of
-Russia promised her assistance. The feeble Stanislas, who had proclaimed
-the new constitution, in 1791, bound himself in 1792 to sanction the
-Diet of Grodno, which restored the ancient constitution, with all its
-vices and all its abuses. In the meanwhile, Frederic William, King of
-Prussia, who had so mainly contributed to excite the Poles to their
-enterprises, basely deserted them, and refused to give them any
-assistance. On the contrary, he stood aloof from the contest, waiting
-for that share of the spoil, which the haughty Empress of the north
-might think proper to allot to him, as the reward of his
-non-interference.
-
-But though thus betrayed on all sides, the Poles were not disposed to
-submit without a struggle. They flew to arms, and found in the nephew of
-their king, the Prince Joseph Poniatowski, a general worthy to conduct
-so glorious a cause. Under his command Kosciusko first became known in
-European warfare. He distinguished himself in the battle of Zielenec,
-and still more in that of Dubienska, which took place on the 18th of
-June, 1792. Upon this latter occasion, he defended for six hours, with
-only four thousand men, against fifteen thousand Russians, a post which
-had been slightly fortified in twenty-four hours, and at last retired
-with inconsiderable loss.
-
-But the contest was too unequal to last; the patriots were overwhelmed
-by enemies from without, and betrayed by traitors within, at the head of
-whom was their own sovereign. The Russians took possession of the
-country, and proceeded to appropriate those portions of Lithuania and
-Volhynia, which suited their convenience; while Prussia, the friendly
-Prussia, invaded another part of the kingdom.
-
-Under these circumstances, the most distinguished officers in the Polish
-army retired from the service, and of this number was Kosciusko.
-Miserable at the fate of his unhappy country, and at the same time an
-object of suspicion to the ruling powers, he left his native land, and
-retired to Leipsic; where he received intelligence of the honour which
-had been conferred upon him by the Legislative Assembly of France, who
-had invested him with the quality of a French citizen.
-
-But his fellow-countrymen were still anxious to make another struggle
-for independence; and they unanimously selected Kosciusko as their chief
-and generalissimo. He obeyed the call, and found the patriots eager to
-combat under his orders. Even the noble Joseph Poniatowski, who had
-previously commanded in chief, returned from France, whither he had
-retired, and received from the hands of Kosciusko the charge of a
-portion of his army.
-
-The patriots had risen in the north of Poland, to which part Kosciusko
-first directed his steps. Anxious to begin his campaign with an action
-of vigour, he marched rapidly towards Cracow, which town he entered
-triumphantly on the 24th of March, 1794. He forthwith published a
-manifesto against the Russians; and then, at the head of only five
-thousand men, he marched to meet their army. He encountered, on the 4th
-of April, ten thousand Russians at a place called Wraclawic; and
-entirely defeated them, after a combat of four hours. He returned in
-triumph to Cracow, and shortly afterwards marched along the left bank of
-the Vistula to Polaniec, where he established his head quarters.
-
-Meanwhile the inhabitants of Warsaw, animated by the recital of the
-heroic deeds of their countrymen, had also raised the standard of
-independence, and were successful in driving the Russians from the city,
-after a murderous conflict of three days. In Lithuania and Samogitia an
-equally successful revolution was effected, before the end of April;
-while the Polish troops stationed in Volhynia and Podolia, marched to
-the reinforcement of Kosciusko.
-
-Thus far fortune seemed to smile upon the cause of Polish freedom—the
-scene was, however, about to change. The undaunted Kosciusko, having
-first organised a national council to conduct the affairs of government,
-again advanced against the Russians. On his march, he met a new enemy,
-in the person of the faithless Frederic William of Prussia; who, without
-having even gone through the preliminary of declaring war, had advanced
-into Poland, at the head of forty thousand men.
-
-Kosciusko, with but thirteen thousand men, attacked the Prussian army on
-the 8th of June, at Szcekociny. The battle was long and bloody; at
-length, overwhelmed with numbers, he was obliged to retreat towards
-Warsaw. This he effected in so able a manner, that his enemies did not
-dare to harass him in his march; and he effectually covered the capital,
-and maintained his position for two months against vigorous and
-continued attacks. Immediately after this reverse the Polish General
-Zaionczeck lost the battle of Chelm, and the Governor of Cracow had the
-baseness to deliver the town to the Prussians, without attempting a
-defence.
-
-These disasters occasioned disturbances among the disaffected at Warsaw,
-which, however, were put down by the vigour and firmness of Kosciusko.
-On the 13th of July, the forces of the Prussians and Russians, amounting
-to fifty thousand men, assembled under the walls of Warsaw, and
-commenced the siege of that city. After six weeks spent before the
-place, and a succession of bloody conflicts, the confederates were
-obliged to raise the siege; but this respite to the Poles was but of
-short duration.
-
-Their enemies increased fearfully in number, while their own resources
-diminished. Austria now determined to assist in the annihilation of
-Poland, and caused a body of her troops to enter that kingdom. Nearly at
-the same moment, the Russians ravaged Lithuania; and the two corps of
-the Russian army, commanded by Suwarof and Fersen, effected their
-junction in spite of the battle of Krupezyce, which the Poles had
-ventured upon with doubtful issue, against the first of these
-commanders, on the 16th of September.
-
-Upon receiving intelligence of these events, Kosciusko left Warsaw and
-placed himself at the head of the Polish army. He was attacked by the
-very superior forces of the confederates on the 10th of October, 1794,
-at a place called Macieiowice; and for many hours supported the combat
-against overwhelming odds. At length he was severely wounded, and as he
-fell, he uttered the prophetic words, “_Finis Poloniæ_.” It is asserted,
-that he had exacted from his followers an oath, not to suffer him to
-fall alive into the hands of the Russians, and that in consequence the
-Polish cavalry, being unable to carry him off, inflicted some severe
-sabre wounds on him, and left him for dead on the field; a savage
-fidelity, which we half admire even in condemning it. Be this as it may,
-he was recognised and delivered from the plunderers by some Cossack
-chiefs; and thus was saved from death to meet a scarcely less harsh
-fate—imprisonment in a Russian dungeon.
-
-Thomas Wawrzecki became the successor of Kosciusko in the command of the
-army; but with the loss of their heroic leader, all hope had deserted
-the breasts of the Poles. They still, however, fought with all the
-obstinacy of despair, and defended the suburb of Warsaw, called Praga,
-with great gallantry. At length this post was wrested from them. Warsaw
-itself capitulated on the 9th of November, 1794; and this calamity was
-followed by the entire dissolution of the Polish army on the 18th of the
-same month.
-
-During this time, Kosciusko remained in prison at Petersburgh; but, at
-the end of two years, the death of his persecutress the Empress
-Catherine released him. One of the first acts of the Emperor Paul was to
-restore him to liberty, and to load him with various marks of his
-favour. Among other gifts of the autocrat was a pension, by which,
-however, the high-spirited patriot would never consent to profit. No
-sooner was he beyond the reach of Russian influence than he returned to
-the donor the instrument, by which this humiliating favour was
-conferred. From this period the life of Kosciusko was passed in
-retirement. He went first to England, and then to the United States of
-America. He returned to the Old World in 1798, and took up his abode in
-France, where he divided his time between Paris, and a country-house he
-had bought near Fontainbleau. While here he received the appropriate
-present of the sword of John Sobieski, which was sent to him by some of
-his countrymen serving in the French armies in Italy, who had found it
-in the shrine at Loretto.
-
-Napoleon, when about to invade Poland in 1807, wished to use the name of
-Kosciusko, in order to rally the people of the country round his
-standard. The patriot, aware that no real freedom was to be hoped for
-under such auspices, at once refused to lend himself to his wishes. Upon
-this the Emperor forged Kosciusko’s signature to an address to the
-Poles, which was distributed throughout the country. Nor would he permit
-the injured person to deny the authenticity of this act in any public
-manner. The real state of the case was, however, made known to many
-through the private representations of Kosciusko; but he was never able
-to publish a formal denial of the transaction till after the fall of
-Napoleon.
-
-When the Russians in 1814 had penetrated into Champagne, and were
-advancing towards Paris, they were astonished to hear that their former
-adversary was living in retirement in that part of the country. The
-circumstances of this discovery were striking. The commune in which
-Kosciusko lived was subjected to plunder, and among the troops thus
-engaged he observed a Polish regiment. Transported with anger he rushed
-among them, and thus addressed the officers: “When I commanded brave
-soldiers they never pillaged; and I should have punished severely
-subalterns who allowed of disorders such as those which we see around.
-Still more severely should I have punished older officers, who
-authorized such conduct by their culpable neglect.”—“And who are you,”
-was the general cry, “that you dare to speak with such boldness to
-us?”—“I am Kosciusko.” The effect was electric: the soldiery cast down
-their arms, prostrated themselves at his feet, and cast dust upon their
-heads according to a national usage, supplicating his forgiveness for
-the fault which they had committed. For twenty years the name of
-Kosciusko had not been heard in Poland save as that of an exile; yet it
-still retained its ancient power over Polish hearts; a power never used
-but for some good and generous end.
-
-The Emperor Alexander honoured him with a long interview, and offered
-him an asylum in his own country. But nothing could induce Kosciusko
-again to see his unfortunate native land. In 1815, he retired to
-Soleure, in Switzerland; where he died, October 16th, 1817, in
-consequence of an injury received by a fall from his horse. Not long
-before he had abolished slavery upon his Polish estate, and declared all
-his serfs entirely free, by a deed registered and executed with every
-formality that could ensure the full performance of his intention. The
-mortal remains of Kosciusko were removed to Poland at the expense of
-Alexander, and have found a fitting place of rest in the cathedral of
-Cracow, between those of his companions in arms, Joseph Poniatowski, and
-the greatest of Polish warriors, John Sobieski.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-[Illustration:
-
-  _Engraved by R. Woodman._
-
-  JOHN FLAXMAN.
-
-  _From the original Picture by_
-  John Jackson,
-  _in the possession of the Right Hon. Lord Dover_.
-
-  Under the Superintendance of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful
-    Knowledge.
-
-  _London. Published by Charles Knight, Pall Mall East._
-]
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration]
-
-                                FLAXMAN
-
-
-It was not till the time of Banks and Flaxman, that the English school
-had produced any notable specimens of the lofty and heroic style in
-sculpture. Wilton, Bacon, and Nollekens, were respectable in their line,
-which was nearly confined to allegorical monuments and busts.
-Roubilliac, though eminently unclassical, possessed a superior style of
-art, and has executed some works which for strength and liveliness of
-expression may challenge competition in this or any other country. But
-the attainments and genius of the two first-mentioned artists were of a
-different, and a loftier class. Those, however, who trace the history of
-the lives of Flaxman and Banks, will find, that whatever they achieved
-in the higher departments of sculpture was due solely to their ardent
-pursuit of excellence, almost unaided by that patronage, which, in this
-country, has been so liberally bestowed on other branches of the fine
-arts.
-
-The heroic beauty and noble proportions of the Mourning Achilles, fully
-establish the claim of Banks to a high rank as a poetic sculptor; this
-fine work of art, however, remained for years in plaster during his
-life, and after his death was presented to the British Gallery, where it
-now stands in the hall, “as a warning,” observes Mr. Allan Cunningham,
-“to all sculptors who enter, that works of classic fancy find slender
-encouragement here!” With respect to Flaxman, in an early period of his
-professional career, he executed the outline illustrations of Homer,
-Æschylus, and Dante, which at once established his fame; and yet, during
-a long life, no single patron called upon him to embody in marble any
-one of these lofty conceptions, the very existence of which forms the
-chief glory of the English school of poetic design.
-
-The progress of sculpture in this country has been very recently traced
-by Mr. Allan Cunningham, in his amusing ‘Memoirs of British Sculptors.’
-Of these, the last, and most interesting, is that of Flaxman, from the
-spirited and amusing pages of which, together with the memoir prefixed
-to the Lectures on Sculpture, this short account has been chiefly
-extracted.
-
-John Flaxman, the second son of a moulder of figures, who kept a shop in
-the Strand for the sale of plaster casts, was born in 1755. Like most
-who have been eminent as artists, he early manifested a taste for
-drawing. As soon as he could hold a pencil, he took delight in copying
-whatever he saw, and at an age when most children are engrossed with
-childish sports, he had read many books, and had begun to trace upon
-paper the lineaments and actions of those heroes who had engaged his
-fancy. Numerous stories are told of his fondness for that art to which
-his mature energies were devoted; and, allowing somewhat for the fond
-recollections of parents and friends, it is fully established that young
-Flaxman early showed proofs both of application and genius. To this
-development of his talents, his bodily constitution may have lent some
-aid, for his health from infancy was delicate, and a weak, and somewhat
-deformed frame, indisposed him from joining in the usual games of
-children.
-
-His station in life did not enable him to profit by the common means of
-education; he gathered his knowledge from various sources, and mastered
-what he wanted by some of those ready methods which form part of the
-inspirations of genius. The introduction, through the means of an early
-patron, Mr. Mathew, to Mrs. Barbauld, contributed to improve his
-education and form his taste.
-
-In his fifteenth year he became a student in the Royal Academy. Here he
-formed an intimacy with Blake and Stothard, both artists of original
-talent; but, like their more eminent companion, less favoured by fortune
-than many not so deserving of patronage and applause.
-
-At the Academy, Flaxman obtained the silver medal, but in the contest
-for the gold one, he was worsted by Engleheart, a name now entirely
-forgotten. Flaxman, however, though humbled and mortified, was only
-stimulated by this defeat to greater exertions and more unwearied
-application.
-
-The narrow circumstances of his father did not allow him to devote his
-whole time to unproductive study. His first employment was for the
-Wedgewoods; and to this fortunate combination of genius in the artist,
-and enterprise, skill, and taste in the manufacturers, the sudden and
-rapid improvement of the porcelain of this country is mainly to be
-ascribed. “The subjects executed by Flaxman were chiefly small groups in
-very low relief, from subjects of ancient verse and history; many of
-which,” observes Mr. A. Cunningham, “are equal in beauty and simplicity
-to his designs for marble: the Etruscan vases and the architectural
-ornaments of Greece supplied him with the finest shapes; these he
-embellished with his own inventions, and a taste for forms of elegance
-began to be diffused over the land. Flaxman loved to allude, even when
-his name was established, to these humble labours; and since his death,
-the original models have been eagerly sought after.” A set of chessmen,
-also executed for the Wedgewoods, are exceedingly beautiful.
-
-Whilst earning by his labour a decent subsistence, he continued his
-devotion to the pursuit of his art, making designs from the Greek poets,
-the Pilgrim’s Progress, and the Bible. He exhibited various works at the
-Academy; but it does not appear that he was enabled by patronage to
-execute any of these in marble, and it is, perhaps, owing to the little
-practice that he had in early life in this mode of working, that his
-admitted want of excellence in this branch of the art of sculpture is to
-be attributed.
-
-In 1782 he left his father’s home, and married an amiable and
-accomplished woman, whose society and affection formed the chief
-happiness of his after life. All those who knew them, describe in
-glowing terms the harmony and mutual affection in which they lived. In
-1787 he determined to visit Rome. Two monuments which he executed before
-his departure deserve notice. One is in memory of Collins. It represents
-the poet seated, reading what he told Dr. Johnson was his only book,
-‘THE BIBLE,’ whilst his lyre and poetical compositions lie neglected on
-the ground. The second is erected in Gloucester cathedral, to Mrs.
-Morley, who perished with her child at sea, and is represented as rising
-with the infant from the waves, at the summons of angels. The simple and
-serene beauty of this work is admirably suited for monumental sculpture.
-
-How he profited whilst at Rome by the study of those noble specimens of
-ancient art, to which modern artists resort as the best school of
-excellence, is shown in the outline illustrations of Homer, Æschylus,
-and Dante; works which spread his fame throughout Europe, and at once
-stamped the character of the English School of Design. These
-compositions, which have been the admiration of every nation where art
-is cultivated, which have been repeatedly published in Germany and
-Italy, as well as in England, and which have been commented on with
-unlimited praise by Schlegel, and almost every other modern writer on
-the fine arts, were made, the Homeric series for fifteen shillings;
-those taken from Æschylus and Dante, for one guinea each. It is not
-creditable to English taste that this country does not possess a single
-group, or even bas-relief, executed from them, although the author lived
-for more than thirty years after their publication.
-
-Of the illustrations of the Iliad, there are in all thirty-nine; of the
-Odyssey, thirty-four. Of the designs from Dante, thirty-eight are taken
-from the Hell, thirty-eight from the Purgatory, and thirty-three from
-the Paradise. The Homeric series was made for Mrs. Hare. The
-illustrations of Æschylus were undertaken at the desire of the Countess
-Spencer; and those of the Divina Commedia were executed for Mr. Thomas
-Hope, one of Flaxman’s early patrons, for whom, whilst at Rome, he
-executed in marble a very beautiful small-sized group of Cephalus and
-Aurora.
-
-Of these three series, the Homeric is the most popular. This preference
-may, perhaps, be accounted for by the Grecian poem being more generally
-familiar than that of Dante: yet the subject of the Divina Commedia in
-many respects appears to have been more congenial to the talents of the
-artist; and perhaps an impartial judgment will pronounce, that of all
-the works of Flaxman, the designs from Dante best exhibit his peculiar
-genius. During his stay at Rome he executed for Frederick, Earl of
-Bristol and Bishop of Derry, a group in marble, which consisted of four
-figures larger than life, representing the fury of Athamas, from Ovid’s
-Metamorphoses: by this he lost money, the price agreed on being only six
-hundred guineas; a sum insufficient to cover the expenses of the work.
-The recollection of this piece of patronage was so disgusting, to use
-the word by which he himself once characterized it, that in after life
-he could not bear to talk on the subject.
-
-Whilst in Italy he made numerous drawings and memoranda upon ancient
-art, which afterwards formed the groundwork of his lectures on
-sculpture. After an absence of seven years he returned to England, and
-engaged a house in Buckingham-street, in which he continued to reside
-till his death.
-
-His first great work after his return was a monument to the Earl of
-Mansfield. In 1797 he was elected an associate, and in 1800, a member of
-the Royal Academy, to which he presented, on his admission, a marble
-group of Apollo and Marpessa. He visited for a short time, in 1802, the
-splendid collections of the Louvre, in order to revive his early
-recollection of the works of art which had been brought from Rome. In
-1810, a professorship of sculpture having been established by the
-Academy, he was elected to fill the chair, and his lectures were
-commenced in 1811. Those who had formed high expectations of eloquence,
-and of felicity of diction and illustration, were disappointed. The
-sedate gravity of his manner, his unimpassioned tone, and the somewhat
-dull catalogue of statues and works of art which he occasionally
-introduced, conduced to tire a general audience. But the ten lectures,
-which have been published since his death, must always furnish an
-important manual to every student in sculpture. The lectures on Beauty,
-and the contrast of Ancient and Modern Sculpture, are peculiarly
-interesting, and embody nearly all which can be said on the leading
-principles of art. In addition to these lectures he wrote several
-anonymous articles, which are enumerated by Mr. Cunningham. These were
-the ‘Character of the Works of Romney,’ for Hayley’s life of that
-artist, and either the whole or part of the articles, Armour,
-Basso-relievo, Beauty, Bronze, Bust, Composition, Cast, Ceres, in Rees’s
-Cyclopædia. Many of the opinions put forth in these different essays he
-has embodied in his lectures.
-
-Besides the designs already noticed, he executed numerous illustrations
-of the Pilgrim’s Progress, forty designs for Sotheby’s translation of
-Oberon, and thirty-six designs from Hesiod, illustrating the story of
-Pandora, and exhibiting the effects of her descent on earth. The
-subjects from Hesiod were those in which his poetic fancy appeared most
-to delight.
-
-In 1820, Flaxman lost his wife, with whom he had lived in uninterrupted
-happiness for thirty-eight years, and from the effects of this
-bereavement he seemed never entirely to recover. A beloved sister, and
-the sister of her whom he most loved, remained to him, and continued his
-companions till his death.
-
-At the time of this domestic misfortune the artist was in the zenith of
-his fame. Commissions poured in, and among them, one order especially
-worthy of his talents, for a group of the Archangel Michael vanquishing
-Satan, given by the Earl of Egremont, a nobleman who has omitted no
-opportunity of patronising the fine arts in this country. This group
-exhibits more grandeur of conception than any work of art of modern
-times. Unfortunately the marble of which it was cut was much
-discoloured, and the work was not entirely finished at his death.
-Amongst the finest of Flaxman’s later productions, Mr. Cunningham
-enumerates his Pysche, the pastoral Apollo (also in the possession of
-Lord Egremont), and two small statues of Michael Angelo and Raphael. But
-the most remarkable of them is the shield of Achilles, designed and
-modelled for Messrs. Rundell and Bridge, the silversmiths. The diameter
-is three feet, and the description of Homer has been strictly followed.
-In the centre is the chariot of the sun, in bold relief, almost starting
-from the surface, surrounded by the most remarkable of the heavenly
-bodies: around the rim is rolled the ever flowing ocean. The
-intermediate space is occupied by twelve scenes, beautifully designed in
-conformity with the words of the poet. For this the artist was paid
-£620. Four casts of it in silver were taken, the first for the late
-King, another for the Duke of York, the third for Lord Lonsdale, the
-fourth for the Duke of Northumberland.
-
-Flaxman died on the 7th of December, 1826, of an inflammation of the
-lungs, the result of a cold. In person he was small, and slightly
-deformed, but his countenance was peculiarly placid and benign, and
-greatly expressive of genius. His dress, manners, and mode of life were
-simple in the extreme: he was never found at the parties of the rich and
-great, and mixed little even with his professional brethren. His life
-was spent in a small circle of affectionate friends, in his studio, and
-in his workshops, where those whom he employed looked up to him as a
-father.
-
-Amongst the different classes of his works, the religious and the poetic
-were those in which he chiefly excelled. The number of pure and exalted
-conceptions, which he has left sketched in plaster or outlined in
-pencil, is quite extraordinary. “His solitude,” observes Sir Thomas
-Lawrence, “was made enjoyment to him by a fancy teeming with images of
-tenderness, purity, or grandeur. His genius, in the strictest sense of
-the word, was original and inventive.” Among the most important of his
-works not before noticed, is his monument to the memory of Sir Francis
-Baring, in Mitcheldever Church, Hants, a work of exquisite beauty, both
-in design and expression, embodying the words, “Thy kingdom come—thy
-will be done—deliver us from evil.” He also executed, among others,
-monuments to the memory of Mary Lushington, of Lewisham, in Kent, to the
-Countess Spencer, to the Rev. Mr. Clowes, of St. John’s Church,
-Manchester, and to the Yarborough family at Street Thorpe, near York.
-This last, and one to Edward Bulmer, representing an aged man
-instructing a youthful pair, Flaxman considered the best of his
-compositions.
-
-He executed several historical monuments to naval and military
-commanders. These deal too largely in emblems and allegories,
-Britannias, lions, victories, and wreaths of laurel, to add much to the
-reputation of the artist: especially as his forte lay in the exquisite
-feeling and grace of his conceptions, not in manual dexterity of
-execution; the chief merit to which such cold and uninteresting
-productions can lay claim. He executed statues of Sir Joshua Reynolds;
-of Sir John Moore, in bronze, of colossal size, for Glasgow; of Pitt,
-for the Town-Hall of the same city; of Burns; and of Kemble, in the
-character of Coriolanus. That of Sir Joshua Reynolds (one of his
-earliest) is perhaps the best. Many of his works were sent abroad: for
-India he executed a statue of the Rajah of Tanjore, and a monument to
-the celebrated Schwartz; two monuments in memory of Lord Cornwallis, a
-figure of Warren Hastings, and a statue of the Marquess of Hastings.
-
-Since the death of Flaxman, six plates have been published by his
-sister, from his designs. The subjects are religious; the engravings are
-admirable fac-similes of the original drawings, which were made in his
-best time; and perhaps there is no published work of his more
-illustrative of the peculiar taste and genius of the artist.
-
-Our Portrait has been engraved from a fine picture by Jackson, in the
-possession of Lord Dover. There is also an excellent portrait painted by
-Howard, and a good bust of Flaxman was executed by Baily some few years
-before our artist’s death.
-
-[Illustration: [“Feed the hungry,” from a bas-relief of Flaxman.]]
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration]
-
-                               COPERNICUS
-
-
-The illustrious discoverer of the true planetary motions, whose features
-are represented on the accompanying plate, lived during the latter part
-of the fifteenth century, and the first half of the following one.
-Notwithstanding the success and celebrity of the theory which still
-bears his name, the materials are very scanty for personal details
-regarding his life and character. This ignorance is not the result of
-recent neglect. A century had scarcely elapsed from the time of his
-death, when Gassendi, who, at the request of the poet Chapelain,
-undertook to compile an account of him, was forced to preface it by a
-similar declaration.
-
-Whilst Europe rang from one end to the other with the fierce dispute to
-which the new views of the relation and motions of the heavenly bodies
-gave rise, the character, the situation and manner of life, almost the
-country, of the great author of the controversy, remained unknown to the
-greater number of his admirers and opponents. Even the name of the
-discoverer of the Copernican system now appears strange, except in the
-Latinised form of Copernicus, in which alone it occurs in his own
-writings and in those of his commentators.
-
-Nicolas Cöpernik[1], to use his genuine appellation, was a native of
-Thorn, a city of Polish Prussia, situated on the river Weichsel or
-Vistula. He was born in the year 1473. Little is known of his parents,
-except that his father, whose name also was Nicolas, was a surgeon, and,
-as it is believed, of German extraction. The elder Cöpernik was
-undoubtedly a stranger at Thorn, where he was naturalized in 1462: he
-married Barbara, of the noble Polish family of Watzelrode. Luke, one of
-her brothers, attained the high dignity of Bishop of Ermeland in the
-year 1489, and the prospects of advancement which this connection held
-out to young Cöpernik, probably induced his father to destine him to the
-ecclesiastical profession. He acquired at home the first elements of a
-liberal education, and afterwards graduated at Cracow, where he remained
-till he received the diploma of Doctor in Arts and Medicine from that
-university. He is said to have made considerable proficiency in the
-latter branch of study; and possessed, even in more advanced life, so
-high a reputation for skill and knowledge, as to produce an erroneous
-belief that he had once followed medicine.
-
-Footnote 1:
-
-  The authority for this manner of spelling the name is Hartknoch, Alt
-  und Neues Preussen. The inscription, Nicolao Copernico, which appears
-  on the plate, is a literal copy of the inscription on the original
-  picture.
-
-[Illustration:
-
-  _Engraved by E. Scriven._
-
-  NICOLAO COPERNICO.
-
-  _From a Picture in the possession of the Royal Society, presented by
-    D^r. Wolf, of Dantzic, June 6, 1770._
-
-  Under the Superintendance of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful
-    Knowledge.
-
-  _London. Published by Charles Knight, Pall Mall East._
-]
-
-He also exhibited at an early age a very decided taste for mathematical
-studies, especially for astronomy; and attended the lectures, both
-public and private, of Albert Brudzewski, then mathematical professor at
-Cracow. Under his tuition, Copernicus, as we shall hereafter call him,
-became acquainted with the works of the astronomer, John Müller, (now
-more commonly known by his assumed appellation of Regiomontanus,) and
-the reputation of this celebrated man is said to have exercised a marked
-influence in deciding the bent of his future studies. Müller died at
-Rome a few years after the birth of Copernicus, and when the latter had
-reached an age capable of appreciating excellence and nourishing
-emulation, he found Müller’s works disseminated through every civilized
-country of Europe, his genius and acquirements the subject of universal
-admiration, and his premature death still regretted as a public
-calamity. The feelings to which the contemplation of Müller’s success
-gave rise, were still more excited by a journey into Italy, which
-Copernicus undertook about the year 1495. One of his brothers and his
-maternal uncle were already settled in Rome, which was therefore the
-point to which his steps eventually tended. He quitted home in his
-twenty-third year; when his diligence in cultivating the practical part
-of astronomy had already procured for him some reputation as a skilful
-observer. It seems to have been in contemplation of this journey that he
-began to study painting, in which he afterwards became a tolerable
-proficient.
-
-Bologna was the first place at which he made any stay, being drawn
-thither by the reputation of the astronomical professor, Dominic Maria
-Novarra. Copernicus was not more delighted with this able instructor
-than Novarra with his intelligent pupil. He soon became an assistant and
-companion of Novarra in his observations, and in this capacity acquired
-considerable distinction, so that on his departure from Bologna and
-arrival at Rome, he found that his reputation had preceded him. He was
-appointed to a professorship in that city, where he continued to teach
-mathematics for some years with considerable success.
-
-It does not appear at what time Copernicus entered into holy orders:
-probably it may have been during his residence at Rome; for on his
-return home he was named to the superintendence of the principal church
-in his native city Thorn. Not long afterwards his uncle Luke, who, in
-1489, succeeded Nicolas von Thungen in the bishopric of Ermeland,
-enrolled him as one of the canons of his chapter. The cathedral church
-of the diocese of Ermeland is situated at Frauenburg, a small town built
-near one of the mouths of the Vistula, on the shore of the lake called
-Frische Haff, separated only by a narrow strip of land from the Gulf of
-Dantzig. In this situation, rendered unfavourable to astronomical
-observations by the frequent marshy exhalations rising from the river
-and lake, Copernicus took up his future abode, and made it the principal
-place of his residence during the remainder of his life. Here those
-astronomical speculations were renewed and perfected, the results of
-which have for ever consigned to oblivion the subtle contrivances
-invented by his predecessors to account for the anomalies of their own
-complicated theories.
-
-But we should form a very erroneous opinion of the life and character of
-Copernicus, if we considered him, as it is probable that by most he is
-considered, the quiet inhabitant of a cloister, immersed solely in
-speculative inquiries. His disposition did not unfit him for taking an
-active share in the stirring events which were occurring around him, and
-it was not left entirely to his choice whether he would remain a mere
-spectator of them.
-
-The chapter of Ermeland, at the time when he became a member of it, was
-the centre of a violent political struggle, in the decision of which
-Copernicus himself was called on to act a considerable part. In the
-latter half of the fifteenth century, a bitter war was carried on
-between the King of Poland and a military religious fraternity, called
-the Teutonic or German Knights of St. Mary of Jerusalem, who were
-incorporated towards the end of the twelfth century. Having been called
-into Prussia, they established themselves permanently in the country,
-built Thorn and several other cities, and gradually acquired a
-considerable share of independent power. On the death of Paul von
-Segendorf, bishop of Ermeland, Casimir, king of Poland, in pursuance of
-a design which he was then prosecuting, to get into his own hands the
-nomination to all the bishoprics in his dominions, appointed his
-secretary, Stanislas Opporowski, to the vacant see. The chapter of
-Ermeland proceeded notwithstanding to a separate nomination, and elected
-Nicolas von Thungen. Opporowski, backed by Casimir, entered Ermeland at
-the head of a powerful army. From this period the new Bishop of Ermeland
-necessarily made common cause with the German Knights; they renounced
-their allegiance to the crown of Poland, and threw themselves on the
-protection of Matthias king of Hungary. At length, Casimir finding
-himself unable to master the confederacy, separated Nicolas von Thungen
-from it, by agreeing to recognise him as Prince-Bishop of Ermeland, on
-the usual condition of homage. Nicolas thus became confirmed in his
-dignity, but his unhappy subjects did not fare better on that account,
-the country being now exposed to the fury of the German Knights, as it
-had suffered before from the violence of the Polish soldiery. These
-disturbances were continued during the life of Luke Watzelrode, and the
-city of Frauenburg, as well as its neighbour Braunsburg, frequently
-became the theatre of warlike operations.
-
-The management of the see was often committed to the care of Copernicus
-during the absence of his uncle, who on political grounds resided for
-the most part at the Court; and his activity in maintaining the rights
-of the chapter rendered him especially obnoxious to the Teutonic Order.
-In one of the short intervals of tranquillity, they took occasion to
-cite him before the meeting of the States at Posen, on account of some
-of his reports to his uncle concerning their encroachments. Gassendi,
-who mentions this circumstance, merely adds that at length his own and
-his uncle’s merit secured the latter in the possession of his dignity.
-In 1512 Watzelrode died, and Copernicus was chosen as administrator of
-the see until the appointment of the new bishop, Fabian von Losingen. In
-1518 the knights under their grand master, Albert of Brandenburg, took
-possession of Frauenburg and burnt it to the ground.
-
-During the following year hostilities continued in the immediate
-neighbourhood of Frauenburg, but in the course of that summer,
-negotiations for peace between the Teutonic Order and the King of Poland
-were begun, through the mediation of the bishop. At last a truce was
-agreed upon for four years, during which Fabian von Losingen died, and
-Copernicus was again chosen administrator of the bishopric. In 1525
-peace was concluded with the Teutonic Knights, Albert having consented
-to receive Prussia as a temporal fief from the King of Poland. It was
-probably on this occasion that Copernicus was selected to represent the
-chapter of Ermeland at the Diet at Graudenz, where the terms of peace
-were finally settled; and by his firmness the chapter recovered great
-part of the possessions which had been endangered during the war. This
-service to his chapter was followed by another of more widely extended
-importance. During the struggle, which had continued with little
-interruption for more than half a century, the currency had become
-greatly debased and depreciated; and one of the most important subjects
-of deliberation at the meeting at Graudenz related to the best method of
-restoring it. There was a great difference of opinion whether the
-intended new coinage should be struck according to the old value of the
-currency, or according to that to which it had fallen in consequence of
-its adulteration. To assist in the settlement of this important
-question, Copernicus drew up a table of the relative value of the coins,
-then in circulation throughout the country. He presented this to the
-States, accompanied by a memoir on the same subject, an extract from
-which may be seen in Hartknoch’s History of Prussia. Throughout the
-troublesome period of which we have just given an outline, Copernicus
-seems to have displayed much political courage and talent. When
-tranquillity was at length restored, he resumed the astronomical studies
-which had been thus interrupted by more active duties.
-
-There appears to be little doubt that the philosopher began to meditate
-on the ideas which led him to the true knowledge of the constitution of
-the solar system, at least as early as 1507. Every one, who has heard
-the name of Copernicus mentioned, is aware that before him the general
-belief was, that the earth occupies the centre of the universe; that the
-changes of day and night are produced by the rapid revolution of the
-heavens, such as our senses erroneously lead us to believe, until more
-accurate and complicated observation teaches us the contrary; that the
-change of seasons and apparent motions of the planetary bodies are
-caused by the revolution of the sun and planets from west to east round
-the earth, in orbits of various complexity, subject to the common daily
-motion of all from east to west.
-
-Instead of the daily motion of the heavens from east to west, Copernicus
-substituted the revolution of the earth itself from west to east. He
-explained the other phenomena of the planetary motions by supposing the
-sun to be fixed, and the earth and other planets to revolve about him;
-not, however, in simple circular orbits, according to the popular view
-of the Copernican theory. It was absolutely necessary to retain much of
-the old machinery of deferent and epicycle so long as the prejudice
-existed, from which Copernicus himself was not free, that nothing but
-circular motion is to be found in the heavens. Another step was made by
-the following generation, and astronomers were taught by Kepler to
-believe that the circular motion which they were so anxious to preserve
-in their theories, has no real existence in the planetary orbits. The
-advantage of the new system above the old, was, that by not denying to
-the earth the motion which it really possesses, the author had to invent
-epicycles to explain only the real irregularities of the motions of the
-other planets, and not those apparent ones which arise out of the motion
-of the orb from which they are viewed.
-
-It is commonly said that besides the two motions already mentioned,
-Copernicus attributed to the earth a third annual revolution on its
-axis. This was necessary from the idea which he had formed of its motion
-in its orbit. He conceived the earth to be carried round as if resting
-on a lever centred in the sun, which would cause the poles of the daily
-motion to point successively to different parts of the heavens; the
-third motion was added to restore these poles to their true position in
-every part of the orbit. It was afterwards seen that these two annual
-motions might be considered as resulting from one of a different kind,
-and in this simpler form they are now always considered by astronomical
-writers.
-
-It would be an interesting inquiry to follow Copernicus through the
-train of reasoning which induced him to venture upon these changes; but
-it is impossible to attempt this, or to explain his system, within the
-limits to which this sketch is necessarily confined. In one point of
-view, his peculiar merit appears not to be in general sufficiently
-insisted upon. If he had merely suggested the principles of his new
-theory, he would doubtless have acquired, as now, the glory of lighting
-upon the true order of the solar system, and of founding thereupon a new
-school of astronomy: but his peculiar and characteristic merit, that by
-which he really earned his reputation, and which entitles him to take
-rank by the side of Newton in the history of astronomy, was the result
-of his conviction, that if his principles were indeed true, they would
-be verified by the examination of details, and the persevering
-resolution with which he thereupon set himself to rebuild an
-astronomical theory from the foundation. This was the reason, at least
-as much as the fear of incurring censure, why he delayed the publication
-of his system for thirty-six years. During the greater part of that time
-he was employed in collecting, by careful observation, the materials of
-which it is constructed: the opinions on which it is based, comprising
-the whole of what was afterwards declared to be heretical and impious,
-were widely known to be entertained by him long before the work itself
-appeared. He delayed to announce them formally, until he was able at the
-same time to show that they were not random guesses, taken up from a
-mere affectation of novelty; but that with their assistance he had
-compiled tables of the planetary motions, which were immediately
-acknowledged even by those whose minds revolted most against the means
-by which they were obtained, to be far more correct than any which till
-then had appeared.
-
-Copernicus’s book seems to have been nearly completed in 1536, which is
-the date of a letter addressed to him by Cardinal Schonberg, prefixed to
-the work. So far at this time was the church of Rome from having decided
-on the line of stubborn opposition to the new opinions, which, in the
-following century, so much to her own disgrace, she adopted, that
-Copernicus was chiefly moved to complete and publish his work by the
-solicitations of this cardinal, and of Tindemann Giese, the bishop of
-Culm; and the book itself was dedicated to Pope Paul III. It is
-entitled, ‘De Revolutionibus Orbium Cœlestium, Libri VI.’ The dedication
-is written in a very different strain from that to which his followers
-were soon afterwards restricted. He there boldly avows his expectation
-that his theory would be attacked as contrary to the Scriptures, and his
-contempt of such ill-considered judgment. A more timid preface, in which
-the new theory is spoken of as a mere mathematical hypothesis, was added
-to this dedication by Osiander, to whom Copernicus had entrusted the
-care of preparing the book for publication. It has been said that the
-author was far from approving this, and if his death had not followed
-closely upon its publication, it is not improbable that he would have
-suppressed it.
-
-The revolution of opinion that has followed the publication of this
-memorable work was not immediately perceptible: even to the end of the
-sixteenth century, as Montucla observes, the number of converts to its
-doctrines might be easily reckoned. The majority contented themselves
-with a disdainful sneer at the folly of introducing such ridiculous
-notions among the grave doctrines of astronomy: but although
-impertinent, it was as yet considered harmless; and all those who were
-at the pains to examine the reasoning on which the new theory was
-grounded, were allowed, unmolested, to own themselves convinced by it.
-It was not until the spirit of philosophical inquiry was fully awakened,
-that the church of Rome became sensible how much danger lurked in the
-new doctrines; and when the struggle began in earnest between the
-partisans of truth and falsehood, the censures pronounced upon the
-advocates of the earth’s motion, were in fact aimed through them at all
-who presumed, even in natural phenomena, to see with other eyes than
-those of their spiritual advisers.
-
-Copernicus did not live to witness any part of the effect produced by
-his book. A sudden attack of dysentery and paralysis put an end to his
-life, within a few hours after the first printed copy had been shown to
-him, in his seventy-second year, on the 24th May, 1543, one century
-before the birth of Newton. The house at Thorn, in which he is said to
-have been born, is still shown, as well as that at Frauenburg, in which
-he passed the greater part of his life. An hydraulic machine, of which
-only the remains now exist, for supplying the houses of the canons with
-water, and another of similar construction at Graudenz, which is still
-in use, are said to have been constructed by him. An account of them may
-be seen in Nanke’s Travels. From the little that is known of
-Copernicus’s private character, his morals appear to have been
-unexceptionable; his temper good, his disposition kind, but inclining to
-seriousness. He was so highly esteemed in his own neighbourhood, that
-the attempt of a dramatic author to satirise him, by introducing his
-doctrine of the earth’s motion upon the stage at Elbing, was received by
-the audience with the greatest indignation. He was buried in the
-cemetery of the chapter of Ermeland, and only a plain marble slab,
-inscribed with his name, marked the place of his interment. Until this
-was rediscovered in the latter half of the last century, an opinion
-prevailed that his remains had been transported to Thorn, and buried in
-the church of St. John, where the portrait of him is preserved, from
-which most of the prints in circulation have been taken. It is engraved
-in Hartknoch’s Prussia, and, according to that author, copies of it were
-frequently made. The portrait prefixed to Gassendi’s life, is a copy of
-that given in Boissard, with the addition of a furred robe. There is a
-good engraving of the same likeness, by Falck, a Polish artist, who
-lived about a century later than Copernicus. In the year 1584, Tycho
-Brahe commissioned Elia Olai to visit Frauenburg, for the purpose of
-more accurately determining the latitude of Copernicus’s observatory,
-and, on that occasion, received as a present from the chapter the
-Ptolemaic scales, made by the astronomer himself, which he used in his
-observatory, and also a portrait of him said to have been painted by his
-own hand. Tycho placed these memorials, with great honour, in his own
-observatory, but it is not known what became of them after his death,
-and the dispersion of his instruments. The portrait, from which the
-engraving prefixed to this account is taken, belongs to the Royal
-Society, to which it was sent by Dr. Wolff, from Dantzig, in 1776. It
-was copied by Lormann, a Prussian artist, from one which had been long
-preserved and recognised as an original in the collection of the Dukes
-of Saxe Gotha. In 1735, Prince Grabowski, bishop of Ermeland, exchanged
-for it the portrait of an ancestor of the reigning duke, who had been
-formerly bishop of that see. Grabowski left it to his chamberlain, M.
-Hussarzewski, in whose possession it remained when the copy was made.
-Dr. Wolff, in the letter accompanying his present, (inserted in the
-Phil. Trans. vol. lxvii.) declares that this original had been compared
-with the Thorn portrait, and that the resemblance of the two is perfect.
-It does not appear very striking in the engravings. A colossal statue of
-Copernicus, executed by Thorwaldsen, was erected at Warsaw in 1830, with
-all the demonstrations of honour due to the memory of a man who holds so
-distinguished a place in the history of human discoveries.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-[Illustration:
-
-  _Engraved by T. Woolnoth._
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-  JOHN MILTON.
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-  _From a Miniature of the same size by Faithorne. Anno 1667, in the
-    possession of William Falconer Esq._
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-  Under the Superintendance of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful
-    Knowledge.
-
-  _London. Published by Charles Knight, Pall Mall East._
-]
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-
-[Illustration]
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-                                 MILTON
-
-
-That sanctity which settles on the memory of a great man, ought upon a
-double motive to be vigilantly sustained by his countrymen; first, out
-of gratitude to him, as one column of the national grandeur; secondly,
-with a practical purpose of transmitting unimpaired to posterity the
-benefit of ennobling models. High standards of excellence are among the
-happiest distinctions by which the modern ages of the world have an
-advantage over earlier, and we are all interested by duty as well as
-policy in preserving them inviolate. To the benefit of this principle,
-none amongst the great men of England is better entitled than Milton,
-whether as respects his transcendent merit, or the harshness with which
-his memory has been treated.
-
-John Milton was born in London on the 9th day of December, 1608. His
-father, in early life, had suffered for conscience’ sake, having been
-disinherited upon his abjuring the popish faith. He pursued the
-laborious profession of a scrivener, and having realised an ample
-fortune, retired into the country to enjoy it. Educated at Oxford, he
-gave his son the best education that the age afforded. At first, young
-Milton had the benefit of a private tutor: from him he was removed to
-St. Paul’s School; next he proceeded to Christ’s College, Cambridge, and
-finally, after several years’ preparation by extensive reading, he
-pursued a course of continental travel. It is to be observed, that his
-tutor, Thomas Young, was a Puritan, and there is reason to believe that
-Puritan politics prevailed among the fellows of his college. This must
-not be forgotten in speculating on Milton’s public life, and his
-inexorable hostility to the established government in church and state;
-for it will thus appear probable, that he was at no time withdrawn from
-the influence of Puritan connections.
-
-In 1632, having taken the degree of M.A., Milton finally quitted the
-University, leaving behind him a very brilliant reputation, and a
-general good will in his own college. His father had now retired from
-London, and lived upon his own estate at Horton, in Buckinghamshire. In
-this rural solitude, Milton passed the next five years, resorting to
-London only at rare intervals, for the purchase of books or music. His
-time was chiefly occupied with the study of Greek and Roman, and, no
-doubt, also of Italian literature. But that he was not negligent of
-composition, and that he applied himself with great zeal to the culture
-of his native literature, we have a splendid record in his ‘Comus,’
-which, upon the strongest presumptions, is ascribed to this period of
-his life. In the same neighbourhood, and within the same five years, it
-is believed that he produced also the Arcades, and the Lycidas, together
-with L’Allegro, and Il Penseroso.
-
-In 1637 Milton’s mother died, and in the following year he commenced his
-travels. The state of Europe confined his choice of ground to France and
-Italy. The former excited in him but little interest. After a short stay
-at Paris he pursued the direct route to Nice, where he embarked for
-Genoa, and thence proceeded to Pisa, Florence, Rome, and Naples. He
-originally meant to extend his tour to Sicily and Greece; but the news
-of the first Scotch war, having now reached him, agitated his mind with
-too much patriotic sympathy to allow of his embarking on a scheme of
-such uncertain duration. Yet his homeward movements were not remarkable
-for expedition. He had already spent two months in Florence, and as many
-in Rome, yet he devoted the same space of time to each of them on his
-return. From Florence he proceeded to Lucca, and thence, by Bologna and
-Ferrara, to Venice; where he remained one month, and then pursued his
-homeward route through Verona, Milan, and Geneva.
-
-Sir Henry Wotton had recommended, as the rule of his conduct, a
-celebrated Italian proverb, inculcating the policy of reserve and
-dissimulation. From a practised diplomatist, this advice was
-characteristic; but it did not suit the frankness of Milton’s manners,
-nor the nobleness of his mind. He has himself stated to us his own rule
-of conduct, which was to move no questions of controversy, yet not to
-evade them when pressed upon him by others. Upon this principle he
-acted, not without some offence to his associates, nor wholly without
-danger to himself. But the offence, doubtless, was blended with respect;
-the danger was passed; and he returned home with all his purposes
-fulfilled. He had conversed with Galileo; he had seen whatever was most
-interesting in the monuments of Roman grandeur, or the triumphs of
-Italian art; and he could report with truth, that in spite of his
-religion, every where undissembled, he had been honoured by the
-attentions of the great, and by the compliments of the learned.
-
-After fifteen months of absence, Milton found himself again in London at
-a crisis of unusual interest. The king was on the eve of his second
-expedition against the Scotch; and we may suppose Milton to have been
-watching the course of events with profound anxiety, not without some
-anticipation of the patriotic labour which awaited him. Meantime he
-occupied himself with the education of his sister’s two sons, and soon
-after, by way of obtaining an honourable maintenance, increased the
-number of his pupils.
-
-Dr. Johnson, himself at one period of his life a schoolmaster, on this
-occasion indulges in a sneer which is too injurious to be neglected.
-“Let not our veneration for Milton,” says he, “forbid us to look with
-some degree of merriment on great promises and small performance: on the
-man who hastens home because his countrymen are contending for their
-liberty; and when he reaches the scene of action, vapours away his
-patriotism in a private boarding-school.” It is not true that Milton had
-made “great promises,” or any promises at all. But if he had made the
-greatest, his exertions for the next sixteen years nobly redeemed them.
-In what way did Dr. Johnson expect that his patriotism should be
-expressed? As a soldier? Milton has himself urged his bodily weakness
-and intellectual strength, as reasons for following a line of duty for
-which he was better fitted. Was he influenced in his choice by fear of
-military dangers or hardships? Far from it: “for I did not,” he says,
-“shun those evils, without engaging to render to my fellow-citizens
-services much more useful, and attended with no less of danger.” What
-services were those? We shall state them in his own words, anticipated
-from an after period. “When I observed that there are in all three modes
-of liberty—first, ecclesiastical liberty; secondly, civil liberty;
-thirdly, domestic: having myself already treated of the first, and
-noticing that the magistrate was taking steps in behalf of the second, I
-concluded that the third, that is to say, domestic, or household
-liberty, remained to me as my peculiar province. And whereas this again
-is capable of a threefold division, accordingly as it regards the
-interests of conjugal life in the first place, or those of education in
-the second, or finally the freedom of speech, and the right of giving
-full publication to sound opinions,—I took it upon myself to defend all
-three, the first, by my Doctrine and Discipline of Divorce, the second,
-by my Tractate upon Education, the third, by my Areopagitica.”
-
-In 1641 he conducted his defence of ecclesiastical liberty, in a series
-of attacks upon episcopacy. These are written in a bitter spirit of
-abusive hostility, for which we seek an insufficient apology in his
-exclusive converse with a party which held bishops in abhorrence, and in
-the low personal respectability of a large portion of the episcopal
-bench.
-
-At Whitsuntide, in the year 1645, having reached his 35th year, he
-married Mary Powel, a young lady of good extraction in the county of
-Oxford. One month after, he allowed his wife to visit her family. This
-permission, in itself somewhat singular, the lady abused; for when
-summoned back to her home, she refused to return. Upon this provocation,
-Milton set himself seriously to consider the extent of the obligations
-imposed by the nuptial vow; and soon came to the conclusion, that in
-point of conscience it was not less dissoluble for hopeless
-incompatibility of temper than for positive adultery, and that human
-laws, in as far as they opposed this principle, called for reformation.
-These views he laid before the public in his Doctrine and Discipline of
-Divorce. In treating this question, he had relied entirely upon the
-force of argument, not aware that he had the countenance of any great
-authorities; but finding soon afterwards that some of the early
-reformers, Bucer and P. Martyr, had taken the same view as himself, he
-drew up an account of their comments on this subject. Hence arose the
-second of his tracts on Divorce. Meantime, as it was certain that many
-would abide by what they supposed to be the positive language of
-Scripture, in opposition to all authority whatsoever, he thought it
-advisable to write a third tract on the proper interpretation of the
-chief passages in Scripture, which refer to this point. A fourth tract,
-by way of answer to the different writers who had opposed his opinions,
-terminated the series.
-
-Meantime the lady, whose rash conduct had provoked her husband into
-these speculations, saw reason to repent of her indiscretion, and
-finding that Milton held her desertion to have cancelled all claims upon
-his justice, wisely resolved upon making her appeal to his generosity.
-This appeal was not made in vain: in a single interview at the house of
-a common friend, where she had contrived to surprise him, and suddenly
-to throw herself at his feet, he granted her a full forgiveness: and so
-little did he allow himself to remember her misconduct, or that of her
-family, in having countenanced her desertion, that soon afterwards, when
-they were involved in the general ruin of the royal cause, he received
-the whole of them into his house, and exerted his political influence
-very freely in their behalf. Fully to appreciate this behaviour, we must
-recollect that Milton was not rich, and that no part of his wife’s
-marriage portion (£1000) was ever paid to him.
-
-His thoughts now settled upon the subject of education, which it must
-not be forgotten that he connected systematically with domestic liberty.
-In 1644 he published his essay on this great theme, in the form of a
-letter to his friend Hartlib, himself a person of no slight
-consideration. In the same year he wrote his ‘Areopagitica, a speech for
-the liberty of unlicensed printing.’ This we are to consider in the
-light of an oral pleading, or regular oration, for he tells us expressly
-[Def. 2.] that he wrote it “ad justæ orationis modum.” It is the finest
-specimen extant of generous scorn. And very remarkable it is, that
-Milton, who broke the ground on this great theme, has exhausted the
-arguments which bear upon it. He opened the subject: he closed it. And
-were there no other monument of his patriotism and his genius, for this
-alone he would deserve to be held in perpetual veneration. In the
-following year, 1645, was published the first collection of his early
-poems: with his sanction, undoubtedly, but probably not upon his
-suggestion. The times were too full of anxiety to allow of much
-encouragement to polite literature: at no period were there fewer
-readers of poetry. And for himself in particular, with the exception of
-a few sonnets, it is probable that he composed as little as others read,
-for the next ten years: so great were his political exertions.
-
-Early in 1649 the king was put to death. For a full view of the state of
-parties which led to this memorable event, we must refer the reader to
-the history of the times. That act was done by the Independent party, to
-which Milton belonged, and was precipitated by the intrigues of the
-Presbyterians, who were making common cause with the king, to ensure the
-overthrow of the Independents. The lamentations and outcries of the
-Presbyterians were long and loud. Under colour of a generous sympathy
-with the unhappy prince, they mourned for their own political
-extinction, and the triumph of their enemies. This Milton well knew, and
-to expose the selfishness of their clamours, as well as to disarm their
-appeals to the popular feeling, he now published his ‘Tenure of Kings
-and Magistrates.’ In the first part of this, he addresses himself to the
-general question of tyrannicide, justifying it, first, by arguments of
-general reason, and secondly, by the authority of the reformers. But in
-the latter part he argues the case personally, contending that the
-Presbyterians at least were not entitled to condemn the king’s death,
-who, in levying war, and doing battle against the king’s person, had
-done so much that tended to no other result. “If then,” is his argument,
-“in these proceedings against their king, they may not finish, by the
-usual course of justice, what they have begun, they could not lawfully
-begin at all.” The argument seems inconclusive, even as addressed _ad
-hominem_: the struggle bore the character of a war between independent
-parties, rather than a judicial inquiry, and in war the life of a
-prisoner becomes sacred.
-
-At this time the Council of State had resolved no longer to employ the
-language of a rival people in their international concerns, but to use
-the Latin tongue as a neutral and indifferent instrument. The office of
-Latin Secretary, therefore, was created, and bestowed upon Milton. His
-hours from henceforth must have been pretty well occupied by official
-labours. Yet at this time he undertook a service to the state, more
-invidious, and perhaps more perilous, than any in which his politics
-ever involved him. On the very day of the king’s execution, and even
-below the scaffold, had been sold the earliest copies of a work,
-admirably fitted to shake the new government, and for the sensation
-which it produced at the time, and the lasting controversy which it has
-engendered, one of the most remarkable known in literary history. This
-was the ‘Eikon Basilike, or Royal Image,’ professing to be a series of
-meditations drawn up by the late king, on the leading events from the
-very beginning of the national troubles. Appearing at this critical
-moment, and co-operating with the strong reaction of the public mind,
-already effected in the king’s favour by his violent death, this book
-produced an impression absolutely unparalleled in any age. Fifty
-thousand copies, it is asserted, were sold within one year; and a
-posthumous power was thus given to the king’s name by one little book,
-which exceeded, in alarm to his enemies, all that his armies could
-accomplish in his lifetime. No remedy could meet the evil in degree. As
-the only one that seemed fitted to it in kind, Milton drew up a running
-commentary upon each separate head of the original: and as that had been
-entitled the king’s image, he gave to his own the title of
-‘Eikonoclastes, or Image-breaker,’ “the famous surname of many Greek
-emperors, who broke all superstitious images in pieces.”
-
-This work was drawn up with the usual polemic ability of Milton; but by
-its very plan and purpose, it threw him upon difficulties which no
-ability could meet. It had that inevitable disadvantage which belongs to
-all ministerial and secondary works: the order and choice of topics
-being all determined by the Eikon, Milton, for the first time, wore an
-air of constraint and servility, following a leader and obeying his
-motions, as an engraver is controlled by the designer, or a translator
-by his original. It is plain, from the pains he took to exonerate
-himself from such a reproach, that he felt his task to be an invidious
-one. The majesty of grief, expressing itself with Christian meekness,
-and appealing, as it were from the grave, to the consciences of men,
-could not be violated without a recoil of angry feeling, ruinous to the
-effect of any logic, or rhetoric the most persuasive. The affliction of
-a great prince, his solitude, his rigorous imprisonment, his constancy
-to some purposes which were not selfish, his dignity of demeanour in the
-midst of his heavy trials, and his truly Christian fortitude in his
-final sufferings—these formed a rhetoric which made its way to all
-hearts. Against such influences the eloquence of Greece would have been
-vain. The nation was spell-bound; and a majority of its population
-neither could or would be disenchanted.
-
-Milton was ere long called to plead the same great cause of liberty upon
-an ampler stage, and before a more equitable audience; to plead not on
-behalf of his party against the Presbyterians and Royalists, but on
-behalf of his country against the insults of a hired Frenchman, and at
-the bar of the whole Christian world. Charles II. had resolved to state
-his father’s case to all Europe. This was natural, for very few people
-on the continent knew what cause had brought his father to the block, or
-why he himself was a vagrant exile from his throne. For his advocate he
-selected Claudius Salmasius, and that was most injudicious. This man,
-eminent among the scholars of the day, had some brilliant
-accomplishments, which were useless in such a service, while in those
-which were really indispensable, he was singularly deficient. He was
-ignorant of the world, wanting in temper and self-command, conspicuously
-unfurnished with eloquence, or the accomplishments of a good writer, and
-not so much as master of a pure Latin style. Even as a scholar, he was
-very unequal; he had committed more important blunders than any man of
-his age, and being generally hated, had been more frequently exposed
-than others to the harsh chastisements of men inferior to himself in
-learning. Yet the most remarkable deficiency of all which Salmasius
-betrayed, was in his entire ignorance, whether historical or
-constitutional, of every thing which belonged to the case.
-
-Having such an antagonist, inferior to him in all possible
-qualifications, whether of nature, of art, of situation, it may be
-supposed that Milton’s triumph was absolute. He was now thoroughly
-indemnified for the poor success of his ‘Eikonoclastes.’ In that
-instance he had the mortification of knowing that all England read and
-wept over the king’s book, whilst his own reply was scarcely heard of.
-But here the tables were turned: the very friends of Salmasius
-complained, that while his defence was rarely inquired after, the answer
-to it, ‘Defensio pro Populo Anglicano,’ was the subject of conversation
-from one end of Europe to the other. It was burnt publicly at Paris and
-Toulouse: and by way of special annoyance to Salmasius, who lived in
-Holland, was translated into Dutch.
-
-Salmasius died in 1653, before he could accomplish an answer that
-satisfied himself: and the fragment which he left behind him was not
-published, until it was no longer safe for Milton to rejoin. Meantime
-others pressed forward against Milton in the same controversy, of whom
-some were neglected, one was resigned to the pen of his nephew, Philips,
-and one answered diffusely by himself. This was Du Moulin, or, as Milton
-persisted in believing, Morus, a reformed minister then resident in
-Holland, and at one time a friend of Salmasius. For two years after the
-publication of this man’s book (Regii Sanguinis Clamor) Milton received
-multiplied assurances from Holland that Morus was its true author. This
-was not wonderful. Morus had corrected the press, had adopted the
-principles and passions of the book, and perhaps at first had not been
-displeased to find himself reputed the author. In reply, Milton
-published his ‘Defensio Secunda pro Populo Anglicano,’ seasoned in every
-page with some stinging allusions to Morus. All the circumstances of his
-early life are recalled, and some were such as the grave divine would
-willingly have concealed from the public eye. He endeavoured to avert
-too late the storm of wit and satire about to burst on him, by denying
-the work, and even revealing the author’s real name: but Milton
-resolutely refused to make the slightest alteration. The true reason of
-this probably was that the work was written so exclusively against
-Morus, full of personal scandal, and puns and gibes upon his name, which
-in Greek signifies foolish, that it would have been useless as an answer
-to any other person. In Milton’s conduct on this occasion, there is a
-want both of charity and candour. Personally, however, Morus had little
-ground for complaint: he had bearded the lion by submitting to be
-reputed the author of a work not his own. Morus replied, and Milton
-closed the controversy by a defence of himself, in 1655.
-
-He had, indeed, about this time some domestic afflictions, which
-reminded him of the frail tenure on which all human blessings were held,
-and the necessity that he should now begin to concentrate his mind upon
-the great works which he meditated. In 1651 his first wife died, after
-she had given him three daughters. In that year he had already lost the
-use of one eye, and was warned by the physicians that if he persisted in
-his task of replying to Salmasius, he would probably lose the other. The
-warning was soon accomplished, according to the common account, in 1654;
-but upon collating his letter to Philaras the Athenian, with his own
-pathetic statement in the Defensio Secunda, we are disposed to date it
-from 1652. In 1655 he resigned his office of secretary, in which he had
-latterly been obliged to use an assistant.
-
-Some time before this period, he had married his second wife, Catherine
-Woodcock, to whom it is supposed that he was very tenderly attached. In
-1657 she died in child-birth, together with her child, an event which he
-has recorded in a very beautiful sonnet. This loss, added to his
-blindness, must have made his home, for some years, desolate and
-comfortless. Distress, indeed, was now gathering rapidly upon him. The
-death of Cromwell in the following year, and the imbecile character of
-his eldest son, held out an invitation to the aspiring intriguers of the
-day, which they were not slow to improve. It soon became too evident to
-Milton’s discernment, that all things were hurrying forward to
-restoration of the ejected family. Sensible of the risk, therefore, and
-without much hope, but obeying the summons of his conscience, he wrote a
-short tract on the ready and easy way to establish a free commonwealth,
-concluding with these noble words, “Thus much I should perhaps have
-said, though I were sure I should have spoken only to trees and stones,
-and had none to cry to, but with the Prophet, Oh earth! earth! earth! to
-tell the very soil itself what her perverse inhabitants are deaf to.
-Nay, though what I have spoken should happen [which Thou suffer not, who
-didst create free, nor Thou next, who didst redeem us from being
-servants of men] to be the last words of our expiring liberty.” A
-slighter pamphlet on the same subject, ‘Brief Notes’ upon a sermon by
-one Dr. Griffiths, must be supposed to be written rather with a
-religious purpose of correcting a false application of sacred texts,
-than with any great expectation of benefiting his party. Dr. Johnson,
-with unseemly violence, says, that he kicked when he could strike no
-longer: more justly it might be said that he held up a solitary hand of
-protestation on behalf of that cause now in its expiring struggles,
-which he had maintained when prosperous; and that he continued to the
-last one uniform language, though he now believed resistance to be
-hopeless, and knew it to be full of peril.
-
-That peril was soon realised. In the spring of 1660, the Restoration was
-accomplished amidst the tumultuous rejoicings of the people. It was
-certain that the vengeance of government would lose no time in marking
-its victims; for some of them in anticipation had already fled. Milton
-wisely withdrew from the first fury of the persecution, which now
-descended on his party. He secreted himself in London, and when he
-returned into the public eye in the winter, found himself no farther
-punished, than by a general disqualification for the public service, and
-the disgrace of a public burning inflicted on his Eikonoclastes, and his
-Defensio pro Populo Anglicano.
-
-Apparently it was not long after this time that he married his third
-wife, Elizabeth Minshul, a lady of good family in Cheshire. In what year
-he began the composition of his ‘Paradise Lost,’ is not certainly known:
-some have supposed in 1658. There is better ground for fixing the period
-of its close. During the plague of 1665 he retired to Chalfont, and at
-that time Elwood the quaker read the poem in a finished state. The
-general interruption of business in London occasioned by the plague, and
-prolonged by the great fire in 1666, explain why the publication was
-delayed for nearly two years. The contract with the publisher is dated
-April 26, 1667, and in the course of that year the Paradise Lost was
-published. Originally it was printed in ten books: in the second, and
-subsequent editions, the seventh and tenth books were each divided into
-two. Milton received only five pounds in the first instance on the
-publication of the book. His farther profits were regulated by the sale
-of the three first editions. Each was to consist of fifteen hundred
-copies, and on the second and third respectively reaching a sale of
-thirteen hundred, he was to receive a farther sum of five pounds for
-each; making a total of fifteen pounds. The receipt for the second sum
-of five pounds is dated April 26, 1669.
-
-In 1670 Milton published his History of Britain, from the fabulous
-period to the Norman conquest. And in the same year he published in one
-volume Paradise Regained and Samson Agonistes. The Paradise Regained, it
-has been currently asserted that Milton preferred to Paradise Lost. This
-is not true; but he may have been justly offended by the false
-principles on which some of his friends maintained a reasonable opinion.
-The Paradise Regained is inferior by the necessity of its subject and
-design. In the Paradise Lost Milton had a field properly adapted to a
-poet’s purposes: a few hints in Scripture were expanded. Nothing was
-altered, nothing absolutely added: but that, which was told in the
-Scriptures in sum, or in its last results, was developed into its whole
-succession of parts. Thus, for instance, “There was war in Heaven,”
-furnished the matter for a whole book. Now for the latter poem, which
-part of our Saviour’s life was it best to select as that in which
-Paradise was Regained? He might have taken the Crucifixion, and here he
-had a much wider field than in the Temptation; but then he was subject
-to this dilemma. If he modified, or in any way altered, the full details
-of the four Evangelists, he shocked the religious sense of all
-Christians; yet, the purposes of a poet would often require that he
-should so modify them. With a fine sense of this difficulty, he chose
-the narrow basis of the Temptation in the Wilderness, because there the
-whole had been wrapt up in Scripture in a few brief abstractions. Thus,
-“He showed him all the kingdoms of the earth,” is expanded, without
-offence to the nicest religious scruple, into that matchless succession
-of pictures, which bring before us the learned glories of Athens, Rome
-in her civil grandeur, and the barbaric splendour of Parthia. The actors
-being only two, the action of Paradise Regained is unavoidably limited.
-But in respect of composition, it is perhaps more elaborately finished
-than Paradise Lost.
-
-In 1672 he published in Latin, a new scheme of Logic, on the method of
-Ramus, in which Dr. Johnson suspects him to have meditated the very
-eccentric crime of rebellion against the universities. Be that as it
-may, this little book is in one view not without interest: all
-scholastic systems of logic confound logic and metaphysics; and some of
-Milton’s metaphysical doctrines, as the present Bishop of Winchester has
-noticed, have a reference to the doctrines brought forward in his
-posthumous Theology. The history of the last-named work is remarkable.
-That such a treatise had existed, was well known, but it had
-disappeared, and was supposed to be irrecoverably lost. But in the year
-1823, a Latin manuscript was discovered in the State-Paper Office, under
-circumstances which left little doubt of its being the identical work
-which Milton was known to have composed; and this belief was
-corroborated by internal evidence. By the King’s command, it was edited
-by Mr. Sumner, the present Bishop of Winchester, and separately
-published in a translation. The title is ‘De Doctrina Christiana, libri
-duo posthumi’—A Treatise on Christian Doctrine, compiled from the Holy
-Scriptures alone. In elegance of style, and sublimity of occasional
-passages, it is decidedly inferior to other of his prose works. As a
-system of theology, probably no denomination of Christians would be
-inclined to bestow other than a very sparing praise upon it. Still it is
-well worth the notice of those students, who are qualified to weigh the
-opinions, and profit by the errors of such a writer, as being composed
-with Milton’s usual originality of thought and inquiry, and as being
-remarkable for the boldness with which he follows up his arguments to
-their legitimate conclusion, however startling those conclusions may be.
-
-What he published after the scheme of logic, is not important enough to
-merit a separate notice. His end was now approaching. In the summer of
-1674 he was still cheerful, and in the possession of his intellectual
-faculties. But the vigour of his bodily constitution had been silently
-giving way, through a long course of years, to the ravages of gout. It
-was at length thoroughly undermined: and about the tenth of November,
-1674, he died with tranquillity so profound, that his attendants were
-unable to determine the exact moment of his decease. He was buried, with
-unusual marks of honour, in the chancel of St. Giles’ at Cripplegate.
-
-The published lives of Milton are very numerous. Among the best and most
-copious are those prefixed to the editions of Milton’s works by Bishop
-Newton, Todd, and Symmons. An article of considerable length, founded
-upon the latter, will be found in Rees’s Cyclopædia. But the most
-remarkable is that written by Dr. Johnson in his ‘Lives of the British
-Poets;’ production grievously disfigured by prejudice, yet well
-deserving the student’s attentions for its intrinsic merits, as well as
-for the celebrity which it has attained.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-[Illustration:
-
-  _Engraved by C. E. Wagstaff._
-
-  JAMES WATT.
-
-  _From a Picture by Sir W. Beechey in the possession of J. Watt Esq. of
-    Aston Hall._
-
-  Under the Superintendance of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful
-    Knowledge.
-
-  _London. Published by Charles Knight, Pall Mall East._
-]
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration]
-
-                                  WATT
-
-
-Those who by cultivating the arts of peace have risen from obscurity to
-fame and wealth, seldom leave to the biographer such ample memorials of
-their private lives as he could wish to work upon. The details of a life
-spent in the laboratory or in the workshop rarely present much variety;
-or possess much interest, except when treated scientifically for the
-benefit of the scientific reader. Such is the case with James Watt: the
-history of his long and prosperous life is little more than the history
-of his scientific pursuits; and this must plead our excuse if it chance
-that the reader should here find less personal information about him
-than he may desire. Fortunately his character has been sketched before
-it was too late, by the masterly hand of one who knew him well. Most of
-the accounts of him already published are said, by those best qualified
-to judge, to be inaccurate. The same authority is pledged to the general
-correctness of the article Watt, in the supplement to the Encyclopædia
-Britannica, and from that article the facts of this short memoir are
-taken.
-
-Both the grandfather and uncle of James Watt were men of some repute in
-the West of Scotland, as mathematical teachers and surveyors. His father
-was a merchant at Greenock, where Watt was born, June 19, 1736, and
-where he received the rudiments of his education. Our knowledge of the
-first twenty years of his life may be comprised in a few short
-sentences. At an early age he manifested a partiality for the practical
-part of mechanics, which he retained through life, taking pleasure in
-the manual exercise of his early trade, even when hundreds of hands were
-ready to do his bidding. In his eighteenth year he went to London, to
-obtain instruction in the profession of a mathematical instrument-maker;
-but he remained there little more than a year, being compelled to return
-home by the precariousness of his health.
-
-In 1757, shortly after his return home, he was appointed
-instrument-maker to the University of Glasgow, and accommodated with
-premises within the precincts of that learned body. Robert Simpson, Adam
-Smith, and Dr. Black, were then some of the professors; and from
-communication with such men, Watt could not fail to derive the most
-valuable mental discipline. With Dr. Black, and with John Robison, then
-a student, afterwards eminent as a mathematician and natural
-philosopher, he formed a friendship which was continued through life. In
-1763 he removed into the town of Glasgow, intending to practise as a
-civil engineer, and in the following year was married to his cousin Miss
-Miller.
-
-In the winter of 1763–4, his mind was directed to the earnest
-prosecution of those inventions which have made his name celebrated over
-the world, by having to repair a working model of a steam-engine on
-Newcomen’s construction, for the lectures of the Professor of Natural
-Philosophy. In treating this subject, we must presume that the reader
-possesses a competent acquaintance with the history and construction of
-the steam-engine. Those who do not possess the requisite knowledge, will
-find it briefly and clearly stated in a short treatise written by Mr.
-Farey, and in many works of easy access. Newcomen’s engine, at the time
-of which we speak, was of the last and most approved construction. The
-moving power was the weight of the air pressing on the upper side of a
-piston working in a cylinder; steam being employed at the termination of
-each downward stroke to raise the piston with its load of air up again,
-and then to form a vacuum by its condensation when cooled by a jet of
-cold water, which was thrown into the cylinder when the admission of
-steam was stopped. Upon repairing the model, Watt was struck by the
-incapability of the boiler to produce a sufficient supply of steam,
-though it was larger in proportion to the cylinder than was usual in
-working engines. This arose from the nature of the cylinder, which being
-made of brass, a better conductor of heat than cast-iron, and
-presenting, in consequence of its small size, a much larger surface in
-proportion to its solid content than the cylinders of working engines,
-necessarily cooled faster between the strokes, and therefore at every
-fresh admission consumed a greater proportionate quantity of steam. But
-being made aware of a much greater consumption of steam than he had
-imagined, he was not satisfied without a thorough inquiry into the
-cause. With this view he made experiments upon the merits of boilers of
-different constructions; on the effect of substituting a less perfect
-conductor, as wood, for the material of the cylinder; on the quantity of
-coal required to evaporate a given quantity of water; on the degree of
-expansion of water in the shape of steam: and he constructed a boiler
-which showed the quantity of water evaporated in a given time, and thus
-enabled him to calculate the quantity of steam consumed at each stroke
-of the engine. This proved to be several times the content of the
-cylinder. He soon discovered that, whatever the size and construction of
-the cylinder, an admission of hot steam into it must necessarily be
-attended with very great waste, if, in condensing the steam previously
-admitted, that vessel had been cooled down sufficiently to produce a
-vacuum at all approaching to a perfect one. If, on the other hand, to
-prevent this waste, he cooled it less thoroughly, a considerable
-quantity of steam remained uncondensed within, and by its resistance
-weakened the power of the descending stroke. These considerations
-pointed out a vital defect in Newcomen’s construction: involving either
-a loss of steam, and consequent waste of fuel, or a loss of power from
-the piston’s descending at every stroke through a very imperfect vacuum.
-
-It soon occurred to Watt, that if the condensation were performed in a
-separate vessel, one great evil, the cooling of the cylinder, and the
-consequent waste of steam, would be avoided. The idea once started, he
-soon verified it by experiment. By means of an arrangement of cocks, a
-communication was opened between the cylinder, and a distinct vessel
-exhausted of its air, at the moment when the former was filled with
-steam. The vapour of course rushed to fill up the vacuum, and was there
-condensed by the application of external cold, or by a jet of water: so
-that fresh steam being continually drawn off from the cylinder to supply
-the vacuum continually created, the density of that which remained might
-be reduced within any assignable limits. This was the great and
-fundamental improvement.
-
-Still, however, there was a radical defect in the atmospheric engine,
-inasmuch as the air being admitted into the cylinder at every stroke, a
-great deal of heat was abstracted, and a proportionate quantity of steam
-wasted. To remedy this, Watt excluded the air from the cylinder
-altogether; and recurred to the original plan of making steam the moving
-power of the engine, not a mere agent to produce a vacuum. In removing
-the difficulties of construction which beset this new plan, he displayed
-great ingenuity and powers of resource. On the old plan, if the cylinder
-was not bored quite true, or the piston not accurately fitted, a little
-water poured upon the top rendered it perfectly air-tight, and the
-leakage into the cylinder was of little consequence, so long as the
-injection water was thrown into that vessel. But on the new plan, no
-water could possibly be admitted within the cylinder; and it was
-necessary, not merely that the piston should be air-tight, but that it
-should work through an air-tight collar, that no portion of the steam
-admitted above it might escape. This he accomplished by packing the
-piston and the stuffing-box, as it is called, through which the
-piston-rod works, with hemp. A farther improvement consisted in
-equalizing the motion of the engine by admitting the steam alternately
-above and below the piston, by which the power is doubled in the same
-space, and with the same strength of material. The vacuum of the
-condenser was perfected by adding a powerful pump, which at once drew
-off the condensed, and injection water, and with it any portion of air
-which might find admission; as this would interfere with the action of
-the engine, if allowed to accumulate. His last great change was to cut
-off the communication between the cylinder and the boiler, when a
-portion only, as one-third or one-half, of the stroke was performed;
-leaving it to the expansive power of the steam to complete it. By this,
-economy of steam was obtained; together with the power of varying the
-effort of the engine according to the work which it has to do, by
-admitting the steam through a greater or smaller portion of the stroke.
-
-These are the chief improvements which Watt effected at different
-periods of his life. Of the patient ingenuity by which they were
-rendered complete, and the many beautiful contrivances by which he gave
-to senseless matter an almost instinctive power of self-adjustment, with
-precision of action more than belongs to any animated being, we cannot
-speak; nor would it be easy to render description intelligible without
-the help of diagrams. His first patent bears date June 5, 1769, so that
-some time elapsed between the invention and publication of his
-improvements. The delay arose partly from his own want of funds, and the
-difficulty of finding a person possessed of capital, who could
-appreciate the merit of his invention; partly from his own increasing
-occupation as a civil engineer. In that capacity he soon acquired
-reputation, and was employed in various works of importance. In 1767 he
-made a survey for a canal, projected, but not executed, between the
-Clyde and Forth. He also made the original survey for the Crinan Canal,
-since carried into effect by Mr. Rennie; and was employed extensively in
-forming harbours, deepening rivers, constructing bridges, and all the
-most important labours of his profession. The last and greatest work of
-this kind on which he was employed, was a survey for a canal between
-Fort William and Inverness, where the Caledonian Canal now runs.
-
-At last Dr. Roebuck, the establisher of the Carron iron-works, became
-Watt’s partner in the patent, upon condition that he should supply the
-necessary funds for bringing out the invention, and receive in return
-two-thirds of the profit. That gentleman, however, was unable to fulfil
-his share of the contract, and in 1774 resigned his interest to Mr.
-Boulton, the proprietor of the Soho works, near Birmingham. Watt then
-determined to remove his residence to England; a step to which he
-probably was rendered more favourable by the death of his wife in 1773.
-In 1775, Parliament, in consideration of the national importance of Mr.
-Watt’s inventions, and the difficulty and expense of introducing them to
-public notice, prolonged the duration of his patent for twenty-five
-years.
-
-The partners now erected engines for pumping water upon a large scale,
-and it was found by comparative trials that the saving of fuel amounted
-to three-fourths of the whole quantity consumed by the engines formerly
-in use. This fact once established, the new machine was soon introduced
-into the deep mines of Cornwall, where, of all places, its merits could
-best be tried. The patentees were paid by receiving one-third of the
-savings of fuel. From the time that the new value of their invention was
-fully proved, Messrs. Boulton and Watt had to maintain a harassing
-contest with numerous invaders of their patent rights; and it was not
-until near the expiration of the patent in 1800, that the question was
-definitively settled in their favour. These attacks, however, did not
-prevent Watt from realizing an ample fortune, the well-earned reward of
-his industry and ability, with which he established himself at
-Heathfield, in the county of Stafford.
-
-At one period Watt devoted much attention to the construction of a
-rotary engine, in which the power of the steam should be applied
-directly to produce circular motion. Like all who have yet attempted to
-solve this problem, he failed to obtain a satisfactory result; and
-turned his attention in consequence to discover the best means of
-converting reciprocal into rotary motion. For this purpose he originally
-intended to use the crank; but having been forestalled by a neighbouring
-manufacturer, who took out a patent for it, having obtained his
-knowledge, as it is said, surreptitiously from one of Watt’s workmen, he
-invented the combination called the sun and planet wheels. Afterwards he
-recurred to the crank, without a shadow of opposition from the patentee.
-He was also the author of that elegant contrivance, the parallel motion,
-which superseded the old-fashioned beam and chain, and rendered possible
-the introduction of the double engine, in which an upward, as well as a
-downward force is applied.
-
-His attention, however, was not confined to the subject of steam. He
-invented a copying machine, for which he took out a patent, in 1780. In
-the winter of 1784–5, he erected an apparatus, the first of its kind,
-for warming his apartments by steam. He also introduced into England the
-method of bleaching with oxymuriatic acid, or chlorine, invented and
-communicated to him for publication by his friend Berthollet. Towards
-the conclusion of life, he constructed a machine for making fac-similes
-of busts and other carved work; and also busied himself in forming a
-composition for casts, possessing much of the transparency and hardness
-of marble.
-
-With chemistry Watt was well acquainted. In 1782 he published a paper in
-the Philosophical Transactions, entitled, ‘Thoughts on the constituent
-parts of Water, and of Dephlogisticated Air.’ His only other literary
-undertaking was the revision of Professor Robison’s articles on Steam
-and Steam Engines, in the Encyclopædia Britannica, to which he added
-notes containing an account of his own experiments on steam, and a
-history of his improvements in the engine.
-
-About the year 1775 he married his second wife, Miss Macgregor. Though
-his health had been delicate through life, yet he reached the advanced
-age of eighty-four. He died at his house at Heathfield, August 25, 1819.
-Chantrey made a bust of him some years before his death; from which the
-same distinguished artist has since executed two marble statues, one for
-his tomb, the other for the Hunterian Museum at Glasgow; and a third in
-bronze, also for Glasgow, which has recently been erected there. It
-represents Watt seated in deep thought, a pair of compasses in his hand,
-and a scroll, on which is the draught of a steam-engine, open on his
-knee.
-
-We cannot better close this account, than with a short extract from the
-sketch of his character, to which we have alluded in a former page.
-After speaking of the lasting celebrity which Watt has acquired by his
-mechanical inventions, the author continues, that “to those to whom he
-more immediately belonged, who lived in his society and enjoyed his
-conversation, this is not, perhaps, the character in which he will be
-most frequently recalled,—most deeply lamented,—or even most highly
-admired. Independently of his great attainments in mechanics, Mr. Watt
-was an extraordinary and in many respects a wonderful man. Perhaps no
-individual in his age possessed so much and such varied and exact
-information, had read so much, or remembered what he had read so
-accurately and well. He had infinite quickness of apprehension, a
-prodigious memory, and a certain rectifying and methodising power of
-understanding, which extracted something precious out of all that was
-presented to it. His stores of miscellaneous knowledge were immense, and
-yet less astonishing than the command he had at all times over them. It
-seemed as if every subject that was casually started in conversation
-with him, had been that which he had been last occupied in studying and
-exhausting; such was the copiousness, the precision, and the admirable
-clearness of the information which he poured out upon it without effort
-or hesitation. Nor was this promptitude and compass of knowledge
-confined, in any degree, to the studies connected with his ordinary
-pursuits. That he should have been minutely and extensively skilled in
-chemistry and the arts, and in most of the branches of physical science,
-might, perhaps, have been conjectured; but it could not have been
-inferred from his usual occupations, and probably is not generally
-known, that he was curiously learned in many branches of antiquity,
-metaphysics, medicine, and etymology; and perfectly at home in all the
-details of architecture, music, and law. He was well acquainted, too,
-with most of the modern languages, and familiar with their most recent
-literature. Nor was it at all extraordinary to hear the great
-mechanician and engineer detailing and expounding, for hours together,
-the metaphysical theories of the German logicians, or criticising the
-measures or the matter of the German poetry. * * *
-
-“It is needless to say, that with those vast resources, his conversation
-was at all times rich and instructive in no ordinary degree. But it was,
-if possible, still more pleasing than wise, and had all the charms of
-familiarity, with all the substantial treasures of knowledge. No man
-could be more social in his spirit, less assuming or fastidious in his
-manners, or more kind and indulgent towards all who approached him.
-* * * His talk, too, though overflowing with information, had no
-resemblance to lecturing, or solemn discoursing; but, on the contrary,
-was full of colloquial spirit and pleasantry. He had a certain quiet and
-grave humour, which ran through most of his conversation, and a vein of
-temperate jocularity, which gave infinite zest and effect to the
-condensed and inexhaustible information which formed its main staple and
-characteristic. There was a little air of affected testiness, and a tone
-of pretended rebuke and contradiction, which he used towards his younger
-friends, that was always felt by them as an endearing mark of his
-kindness and familiarity, and prized accordingly, far beyond all the
-solemn compliments that ever proceeded from the lips of authority. His
-voice was deep and powerful; though he commonly spoke in a low and
-somewhat monotonous tone, which harmonized admirably with the weight and
-brevity of his observations, and set off to the greatest advantage the
-pleasant anecdotes which he delivered with the same grave tone, and the
-same calm smile playing soberly on his lips. There was nothing of
-effort, indeed, or of impatience, any more than of pride or levity, in
-his demeanour; and there was a finer expression of reposing strength,
-and mild self-possession in his manner, than we ever recollect to have
-met with in any other person. He had in his character the utmost
-abhorrence for all sorts of forwardness, parade, and pretension; and
-indeed never failed to put all such impostors out of countenance, by the
-manly plainness and honest intrepidity of his language and deportment.
-
-“He was twice married, but has left no issue but one son, long
-associated with him in his business and studies, and two grandchildren
-by a daughter who predeceased him. He was fellow of the Royal Societies
-both of London and Edinburgh, and one of the few Englishmen who were
-elected members of the National Institute of France. All men of learning
-and of science were his cordial friends; and such was the influence of
-his mild character, and perfect fairness and liberality, even upon the
-pretender to these accomplishments, that he lived to disarm even envy
-itself, and died, we verily believe, without a single enemy.”
-
-[Illustration]
-
-[Illustration:
-
-  Engraved by W. Holl.
-
-  MARSHAL TURENNE.
-
-  _From the original Picture by Latour,
-  in the collection of the Musée Royale, Paris._
-
-  Under the Superintendance of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful
-    Knowledge.
-
-  _London. Published by Charles Knight, Pall Mall East._
-]
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration]
-
-                                TURENNE
-
-
-Henri de la Tour d’Auvergne, Vicomte de Turenne, born September 16th,
-1611, was the second son of the Duc de Bouillon, prince of Sedan, and of
-Elizabeth of Nassau, daughter of the celebrated William of Orange, to
-whose courage and talents the Netherlands mainly owed their deliverance
-from Spain. Both parents being zealous Calvinists, Turenne was of course
-brought up in the same faith. Soon after his father’s death, the Duchess
-sent him, when he was not yet thirteen years old, into the Low
-Countries, to learn the art of war under his uncle, Maurice of Nassau,
-who commanded the troops of Holland in the protracted struggle between
-that country and Spain. Maurice held that there was no royal road to
-military skill, and placed his young relation in the ranks, as a
-volunteer, where for some time he served, enduring all hardships to
-which the common soldiers were exposed. In his second campaign he was
-promoted to the command of a company, which he retained for four years,
-distinguished by the admirable discipline of his men, by unceasing
-attention to the due performance of his own duty, and by his eagerness
-to witness, and become thoroughly acquainted with, every branch of
-service. In the year 1630, family circumstances rendered it expedient
-that he should return to France, where the court received him with
-distinction, and invested him with the command of a regiment.
-
-Four years elapsed before Turenne had an opportunity of distinguishing
-himself in the service of his native country. His first laurels were
-reaped in 1634, at the siege of the strong fortress of La Motte, in
-Lorraine, where he headed the assault, and, by his skill and bravery,
-mainly contributed to its success. For this exploit he was raised at the
-early age of twenty-three to the rank of Marechal de Camp, the second
-grade of military rank in France. In the following year, the breaking
-out of war between France and Austria opened a wider field of action.
-Turenne held a subordinate command in the army, which, under the
-Cardinal de la Valette, marched into Germany to support the Swedes,
-commanded by the Duke of Weimar. At first fortune smiled on the allies;
-but, ere long, scarcity of provisions compelled them to a disastrous
-retreat over a ruined country, in the face of the enemy. On this
-occasion the young soldier’s ability and disinterestedness were equally
-conspicuous. He sold his plate and equipage for the use of the army;
-threw away his baggage to load the waggons with those stragglers who
-must otherwise have been abandoned; and marched on foot, while he gave
-up his own horse to the relief of one who had fallen, exhausted by
-hunger and fatigue. These are the acts which win the attachment of
-soldiers, and Turenne was idolized by his.
-
-Our limits will not allow of the relation of those campaigns in which
-the subject of this memoir filled a subordinate part. In 1637–8 he again
-served under La Valette, in Flanders and Germany, after which he was
-made Lieutenant-General, a rank not previously existing in France. The
-three following years he was employed in Italy and Savoy, and in 1642
-made a campaign in Roussillon, under the eye of Louis XIII. In the
-spring of 1643, the King died; and in the autumn of the same year,
-Turenne received from the Queen Mother and Regent, Anne of Austria, a
-Marshal’s baton, the appropriate reward of his long and brilliant
-services. Four years a captain, four a colonel, three Marechal de Camp,
-five lieutenant-general, he had served in all stations from the ranks
-upwards, and distinguished himself in them not only by military talent,
-but by strict honour and trustworthiness, rare virtues in those
-turbulent times when men were familiar with civil war, and the great
-nobility were too powerful to be peaceful subjects.
-
-Soon after his promotion, he was sent to Germany, to collect and
-reorganise the French army, which had been roughly handled at
-Duttlingen. It wanted rest, men, and money, and he settled it in good
-quarters, raised recruits, and pledged his own credit for the necessary
-sums. The effects of his exertions were soon seen. He arrived in Alsace,
-December, 1643, and in the following May was at the head of 10,000 men,
-well armed and equipped, with whom he felt strong enough to attack the
-Imperial army, and raise the siege of Fribourg. At that moment the glory
-which he hoped and was entitled to obtain, as the reward of five months’
-labour, was snatched from him by the arrival of the celebrated Prince de
-Condè, at that time Duc d’Enghien, to assume the command. The vexation
-which Turenne must have felt was increased by the difference of age, for
-the Prince was ten years his junior, and of personal character. Condè
-was ardent and impetuous, and flushed by his brilliant victory at Rocroi
-the year before; Turenne cool, calculating, and cautious, unwearied in
-preparing a certainty of success beforehand, yet prompt in striking when
-the decisive moment was come. The difference of their characters was
-exemplified upon this occasion. Merci, the Austrian commander, had taken
-up a strong position, which Turenne said could not be forced; but at the
-same time pointed out the means of turning it. Condè differed from him,
-and the second in command was obliged to submit. On two successive days
-two bloody and unsuccessful assaults were made: on the third Turenne’s
-advice was taken, and on the first demonstration of this change of plan
-Merci retreated. In the following year, ill supplied with every thing,
-and forced to separate his troops widely to obtain subsistence, he was
-attacked at Mariendal, and worsted by his old antagonist Merci. This,
-his first defeat, he felt severely: still he retained his position, and
-was again ready to meet the enemy, when he received positive orders from
-Mazarin to undertake nothing before the arrival of Condè. Zealous for
-his country and careless of personal slights, he marched without
-complaint under the command of his rival: and his magnanimity was
-rewarded at the battle of Nordlingen, in 1645, where the centre and
-right wing having failed in their attack, Turenne with the left wing
-broke the enemy’s right, and falling on his centre in flank, threw it
-into utter confusion. For this service he received the most cordial and
-ample acknowledgments from Condè, both on the field, and in his
-despatches to the Queen Regent. Soon after, Condè, who was wounded in
-the battle, resigned his command into the hands of Turenne. The
-following campaigns of 1646–7–8 exhibited a series of successes, by
-means of which he drove the Duke of Bavaria from his dominions, and
-reduced the Emperor to seek for peace. This was concluded at Munster in
-1648, and to Turenne’s exertions the termination of the thirty years’
-war is mainly to be ascribed.
-
-The repose of France was soon broken by civil war. Mazarin’s
-administration, oppressive in all respects, but especially in fiscal
-matters, had produced no small discontent throughout the country, and
-especially in Paris; where the parliament openly espoused the cause of
-the people against the minister, and were joined by several of the
-highest nobility, urged by various motives of private interest or
-personal pique. Among these were the Prince of Conti, the Duc de
-Longueville, and the Duc de Bouillon. Mazarin, in alarm, endeavoured to
-enlist the ambition of Turenne in his favour, by offering the government
-of Alsace, and the hand of his own niece, as the price of his adherence
-to the court. The Viscount, pressed by both parties, avoided to declare
-his adhesion to either: but he unequivocally expressed his
-disapprobation of the Cardinal’s proceedings, and, being superseded in
-his command, retired peaceably to Holland. There he remained till the
-convention of Ruel effected a hollow and insincere reconciliation
-between the court and one of the jarring parties of which the Fronde was
-composed. That reconciliation was soon broken by the sudden arrest of
-Condè, Conti, and the Duc de Longueville. Turenne then threw himself
-into the arms of the Fronde; urged partly by indignation at this act of
-violence, partly by a sympathy with the interests of his brother, the
-Duc de Bouillon; but more, it is said, by a devoted attachment to the
-Duchesse de Longueville, who turned the great soldier to her purposes,
-and laughed at his passion. He sold his plate; the Duchess sold her
-jewels: they concluded an alliance with Spain, and the Viscount was soon
-at the head of an army. But the heterogeneous mass of Frenchmen,
-Spaniards, and Germans, melted away during the first campaign; and
-Turenne, at the head of eight thousand men, found himself obliged to
-encounter the royal army, twenty thousand strong. In the battle which
-ensued, he distinguished his personal bravery in several desperate
-charges: but the disparity was too great; and this defeat of Rhetel was
-of serious consequence to the Fronde party. Convinced at last that his
-true interest lay rather on the side of the court, then managed by a
-woman and a priest, where he might be supreme in military matters, than
-in supporting the cause of an impetuous and self-willed leader, such as
-Condè, Turenne gladly listened to overtures of accommodation, and passed
-over to the support of the regency. His conduct in this war appears to
-be the most objectionable part of a long and, for that age, singularly
-honest life. The fault, however, seems to have been rather in espousing,
-than in abandoning, the cause of the Fronde. Many of that party were
-doubtless actuated by sincerely patriotic motives. Such, however, were
-not the motives of Turenne, nor of the nobility to whom he attached
-himself: and if, in returning to his allegiance, he followed the call of
-interest as decidedly as he had followed the call of passion in
-revolting, it was at least a recurrence to his former principle of
-loyalty, from which, in after-life, he never swerved.
-
-The value of his services was soon made evident. Twice, at the head of
-very inferior troops, he checked Condè in the career of victory: and
-again compelled him to fight under the walls of Paris; where, in the
-celebrated battle of the Faubourg St. Antoine, the Prince and his army
-narrowly escaped destruction. Finally, he re-established the court at
-Paris, and compelled Condè to quit the realm. These important events
-took place in one campaign of six months, in 1652.
-
-In 1654 he again took the field against his former friend and commander,
-Condè, who had taken refuge in Spain, and now led a foreign army against
-his country. The most remarkable operation of the campaign was the
-raising the siege of Arras; which the Spaniards had invested, according
-to the most approved fashion of the day, with a strong double line of
-circumvallation, within which the besieging army was supposed to be
-securely sheltered against the sallies of the garrison cooped up within,
-and the efforts of their friends from without. Turenne marched to the
-relief of the place. This could only be effected by forcing the enemy’s
-entrenchments; which were accordingly attacked, contrary to the opinion
-of his own officers, and carried at all points, despite the personal
-exertions of Condè. The Spaniards were forced to retreat. It is
-remarkable that Turenne, not long after, was himself defeated in
-precisely similar circumstances, under the walls of Valenciennes, round
-which he had drawn lines of circumvallation. Once more he found himself
-in the same position at Dunkirk. On this occasion he marched out of his
-lines to meet the enemy, rather than wait, and suffer them to choose
-their point of attack: and the celebrated battle of the Dunes or
-Sandhills ensued, in which he gained a brilliant victory over the best
-Spanish troops, with Condè at their head. This took place in 1657.
-Dunkirk and the greater part of Flanders fell into the hands of the
-French in consequence; and these successes led to the treaty of the
-Pyrenees, which terminated the war in 1658.
-
-Turenne’s signal services were appreciated and rewarded by the entire
-confidence both of the regency, and of Louis himself, after he attained
-his majority and took the reins of state into his own hands. At the
-King’s marriage, in 1660, he was created Marshal-General of the French
-armies, with the significant words, “Il ne tient qu’a vous que ce soit
-davantage.” The monarch is supposed to have meditated the revival of the
-high dignity of Constable of France, which could not be held by a
-Protestant. If this were so, it was a tempting bribe; but it failed.
-Covetousness was no part of Turenne’s character; and for ambition, his
-calm and strong mind could not but see that a dignity won by such
-unworthy means would not elevate him in men’s eyes. We would willingly
-attribute his conduct to a higher principle; but there is reason to
-believe that henceforth he rather sought to be converted from the strict
-tenets of Calvinism in which he had been brought up. It is at least
-certain, from his correspondence, that about this time he applied
-himself to theological studies, with which an imperfect education, and a
-life spent in camps, had little familiarized him; and that in the year
-1668 he solemnly renounced the Protestant church. However, he asked and
-received nothing for himself, and was refused one trifling favour which
-he requested for his nephew: and perhaps the most fair and probable
-explanation of his conversion is, that his profession of Calvinism had
-been habitual and nominal, not founded upon inquiry and conviction; and
-that in becoming a convert to Catholicism, he had little to give up,
-while his mind was strongly biassed in favour of the fashionable and
-established creed.
-
-When war broke out afresh between France and Spain, in 1667, Louis XIV.
-made his first campaign under Turenne’s guidance, and gained possession
-of nearly the whole of Flanders. In 1672, when Louis resolved to
-undertake in person the conquest of Holland, he again placed the
-command, under himself, in Turenne’s hands, and disgraced several
-marshals who refused to receive orders from the Viscount, considering
-themselves his equals in military rank. How Le Grand Monarque forced the
-passage of the Rhine when there was no army to oppose him, and conquered
-city after city, till he was stopped by inundations, under the walls of
-Amsterdam, has been said and sung by his flatterers; and need not be
-repeated here. But after the King had left the army, when the Princes of
-Germany came to the assistance of Holland, and her affairs took a more
-favourable turn under the able guidance of the Prince of Orange, a wider
-field was offered for the display of Turenne’s talents. In the campaign
-of 1673 he drove the Elector of Brandenburg, who had come to the
-assistance of the Dutch, back to Berlin, and compelled him to negotiate
-for peace. In the same year he was opposed, for the first time, to the
-Imperial General Montecuculi, celebrated for his military writings, as
-well as for his exploits in the field. The meeting of these two great
-generals produced no decisive results.
-
-Turenne returned to Paris in the winter, and was received with the most
-flattering marks of favour. On the approach of spring, he was sent back
-to take command of the French army in Alsace, which, amounting to no
-more than ten thousand men, was pressed by a powerful confederation of
-the troops of the empire, and those of Brandenburg, once again in the
-field. Turenne set himself to beat the allies in detail, before they
-could form a junction. He passed the Rhine, marched forty French leagues
-in four days, and came up with the Imperialists, under the Duke of
-Lorraine, at Sintzheim. They occupied a strong position, their wings
-resting on mountains; their centre protected by a river and a fortified
-town. Turenne hesitated: it seemed rash to attack; but a victory was
-needful before the combination of the two armies should render their
-force irresistible, and he commanded the best troops of France. The
-event justified his confidence. Every post was carried sword in hand.
-The Marshal had his horse killed under him, and was slightly wounded. To
-the officers, who crowded round him with congratulations, he replied,
-with one of those short and happy speeches which tell upon an army more
-than the most laboured harangues, “With troops like you, gentlemen, a
-man ought to attack boldly, for he is sure to conquer.” The beaten army
-fell back behind the Neckar, where they effected a junction with the
-troops of Brandenburg: but they dared attempt nothing further, and left
-the Palatinate in the quiet possession of Turenne. Under his eye, and,
-as it appears from his own letters, at his express recommendation, as a
-matter of policy, that wretched country was laid waste to a deplorable
-extent. This transaction went far beyond the ordinary license of war,
-and excited general indignation even in that unscrupulous age. It will
-ever be remembered as a foul stain upon the character of the general who
-executed, and of the king and minister who ordered or consented to it.
-
-Having carried fire and sword through that part of the Palatinate which
-lay upon the right or German bank of the Rhine, he crossed that river.
-But the Imperial troops, reinforced by the Saxons and Hessians to the
-amount of sixty thousand men, pressed him hard: and it seemed impossible
-to keep the field against so great a disparity of force; his own troops
-not amounting to more than twenty thousand. He retreated into Lorraine,
-abandoning the fertile plains of Alsace to the enemy, led his army
-behind the Vosges mountains, and crossing them by unfrequented routes,
-surprised the enemy at Colmar, beat him at Mulhausen and Turkheim, and
-forced him to recross the Rhine. This is esteemed the most brilliant of
-Turenne’s campaigns, and it was conceived and conducted with the greater
-boldness, being in opposition to the orders of Louvois. “I know,” he
-wrote to that minister, in remonstrating, and indeed refusing to follow
-his directions, “I know the strength of the Imperialists, their
-generals, and the country in which we are. I take all upon myself, and
-charge myself with whatever may occur.”
-
-Returning to Paris at the end of the campaign, his journey through
-France resembled a triumphal progress; such was the popular enthusiasm
-in his favour. Not less flattering was his reception by the King, whose
-undeviating regard and confidence, undimmed by jealousy or envy, is
-creditable alike to the monarch and to his faithful subject. At this
-time Turenne, it is said, had serious thoughts of retiring to a convent,
-and was induced only by the earnest remonstrances of the King, and his
-representations of the critical state of France, to resume his command.
-Returning to the Upper Rhine, he was again opposed to Montecuculi. For
-two months the resources and well-matched skill of the rival captains
-were displayed in a series of marches and counter-marches, in which
-every movement was so well foreseen and guarded against, that no
-opportunity occurred for coming to action with advantage to either side.
-At last the art of Turenne appeared to prevail; when, not many minutes
-after he had expressed the full belief that victory was in his grasp, a
-cannon-ball struck him while engaged in reconnoitring the enemy’s
-position, previous to giving battle, and he fell dead from his horse,
-July 27th, 1675. The same shot carried off the arm of St. Hilaire,
-commander-in-chief of the artillery. “Weep not for me,” said the brave
-soldier to his son, “it is for that great man that we ought to weep.”
-
-His subordinates possessed neither the talents requisite to follow up
-his plans, nor the confidence of the troops, who perceived their
-hesitation, and were eager to avenge the death of their beloved general.
-“Loose the piebald,” so they named Turenne’s horse, was the cry; “he
-will lead us on.” But those on whom the command devolved thought of
-nothing less than of attacking the enemy; and after holding a hurried
-council of war, retreated in all haste across the Rhine.
-
-The Swabian peasants let the spot where he fell lie fallow for many
-years, and carefully preserved a tree under which he had been sitting
-just before. Strange that the people who had suffered so much at his
-hands, should regard his memory with such respect.
-
-The character of Turenne was more remarkable for solidity than for
-brilliancy. Many generals may have been better qualified to complete a
-campaign by one decisive blow; few probably have laid the scheme of a
-campaign with more judgment, or shown more skill and patience in
-carrying their plans into effect. And it is remarkable that, contrary to
-general experience, he became much more enterprising in advanced years
-than he had been in youth. Of that impetuous spirit, which sometimes
-carries men to success where caution would have hesitated and failed, he
-possessed little. In his earlier years he seldom ventured to give
-battle, except where victory was nearly certain: but a course of victory
-inspired confidence, and trained by long practice to distinguish the
-difficult from the impossible, he adopted in his later campaigns a
-bolder style of tactics than had seemed congenial to his original
-temper. In this respect he offered a remarkable contrast to his rival in
-fame, Condè, who, celebrated in early life for the headlong valour, even
-to rashness, of his enterprises, became in old age prudent almost to
-timidity. Equally calm in success or in defeat, Turenne was always ready
-to prosecute the one, or to repair the other. And he carried the same
-temper into private life, where he was distinguished for the dignity
-with which he avoided quarrels, under circumstances in which lesser men
-would have found it hard to do so, without incurring the reproach of
-cowardice. Nor must we pass over his thorough honesty and
-disinterestedness in pecuniary matters; a quality more rare in a great
-man then than it is now.
-
-In 1653 he married the daughter of the Duc de la Force. She died in
-1666, without leaving children.
-
-Turenne composed memoirs of his own life, which are published in the
-Life of him by the Chevalier Ramsay. There is also a collection of his
-Military Maxims, by Captain Williamson. In 1782 Grimoard published his
-‘Collection des Memoirs du Marechal de Turenne.’ Deschamps, an officer
-who served under him, wrote a full account of his two last campaigns;
-and the history of his four last campaigns has been published under the
-name of Beaurain. We may also refer the reader for the history of these
-times to Voltaire, Siècle de Louis XIV.
-
-[Illustration: French Cavalier of the seventeenth century.]
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration]
-
-                                 BOYLE
-
-
-This excellent and accomplished person was one of those who do honour to
-high birth and ample fortune, by employing them, not as the means of
-selfish gratification or personal aggrandisement, but in the furtherance
-of every useful pursuit, and every benevolent purpose. By the lover of
-science he is honoured as one of the first and most successful
-cultivators of experimental philosophy; to the Christian his memory is
-endeared, as that of one, who, in the most licentious period of English
-history, showed a rare example of religion and virtue in exalted
-station, and was an early and zealous promoter of the diffusion of the
-Scriptures in foreign lands.
-
-Robert Boyle was the youngest son but one of a statesman eminent in the
-successive reigns of Elizabeth, and the first James and Charles; and
-well known in Ireland by the honourable title of the Great Earl of Cork.
-He has left an unfinished sketch of his own early life, in which he
-assumes the name of Philaretus, a lover of virtue; and speaks of his
-childhood as characterized by two things, a more than usual inclination
-to study, and a rigid observance of truth in all things. He was born in
-Ireland, January 25, 1626–7. In his ninth year he was sent, with his
-elder brother Francis, to Eton, where he spent between three and four
-years: in the early part of which, under the guidance of an able and
-judicious tutor, he made great progress both in the acquisition of
-knowledge, and in forming habits of accurate and diligent inquiry. But
-his studies were interrupted by a severe ague; and while recovering from
-that disorder he contracted a habit of desultory reading, which it
-afterwards cost him some pains to conquer by a laborious course of
-mathematical calculations. During his abode at Eton several remarkable
-escapes from imminent peril occurred to him, upon which, in after-life,
-he looked back with reverential gratitude, and with the full conviction
-that the direct hand of an overruling providence was to be traced in
-them.
-
-[Illustration:
-
-  _Engraved by R. Woodman._
-
-  ROBERT BOYLE.
-
-  _From an original Picture, in the possession of Lord Dover._
-
-  Under the Superintendance of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful
-    Knowledge.
-
-  _London. Published by Charles Knight, Pall Mall East._
-]
-
-Towards the close of 1637, as it should seem, his father, who had
-purchased the manor of Stalbridge, in Dorsetshire, took him home. In
-October, 1638, he was sent abroad, under the charge of a governor, with
-his brother Francis. They visited France, Switzerland, and Italy; and
-Philaretus’s narrative of his travels is not without interest. The only
-incident which we shall mention as occurring during this period, is one
-which may be thought by many scarcely worthy of notice. Boyle himself
-used to speak of it as the most considerable accident of his whole life;
-and for its influence upon his life it ought not to be omitted. While
-staying at Geneva, he was waked in the night by a thunder-storm of
-remarkable violence. Taken unprepared and startled, it struck him that
-the day of judgment was at hand; “whereupon,” to use his own words, “the
-consideration of his unpreparedness to welcome it, and the hideousness
-of being surprised by it in an unfit condition, made him resolve and
-vow, that if his fears that night were disappointed, all further
-additions to his life should be more religiously and watchfully
-employed.” He has been spoken of as being a sceptic before this sudden
-conversion. This does not appear from his own account, farther than as
-any boy of fourteen may be so called, who has never taken the trouble
-fully to convince himself of those truths which he professes to believe.
-On the breaking out of the rebellion in 1642, the troubled state of
-England, and the death of the Earl of Cork, involved the brothers in
-considerable pecuniary difficulties. They returned to England in 1644,
-and Robert, after a short delay, took possession of the manor of
-Stalbridge, which, with a considerable property in Ireland, had been
-bequeathed to him by his father. By the interest of his brother and
-sister, Lord Broghill and Lady Ranelagh, who were on good terms with the
-ruling party, he obtained protections for his property, and for the next
-six years made Stalbridge his principal abode. This portion of his life
-was chiefly spent in the study of ethical and natural philosophy; and
-his name began already to be respected among the men of science of the
-day.
-
-In 1652 he went to Ireland to look after his property, and spent the
-greater part of the next two years there. Returning to England in 1654,
-he settled at Oxford. That which especially directed him to this place,
-besides its being generally suited to the prosecution of all his
-literary and philosophical pursuits, was the presence of that knot of
-learned men, from whom the Royal Society took its rise. It consisted of
-a few only, but those eminent; Bishop Wilkins, Wallis, Ward, Wren, and
-others, who used to meet for the purpose of conferring upon
-philosophical subjects, and mutually communicating and reasoning on
-their respective experiments and discoveries.
-
-At the restoration, Boyle was treated with great respect by the King;
-and was strongly pressed to enter the church by Lord Clarendon, who
-thought that his high birth, eminent learning, and exemplary character
-might be of material service to the revived establishment. After serious
-consideration he declined the proposal, upon two accounts, as he told
-Burnet; first, because he thought that while he performed no
-ecclesiastical duties, and received no pay, his testimony in favour of
-religion would carry more weight; secondly, because he felt no especial
-vocation to take holy orders, which he considered indispensable to the
-proper entering into that service.
-
-From this time forwards, Boyle’s life is not much more than the history
-of his works. It passed in an even current of tranquil happiness, and
-diligent employment, little broken, except by illness, from which he was
-a great sufferer. At an early age, he was attacked by the stone, and
-continued through life subject to paroxysms of that dreadful disease:
-and in 1670, he was afflicted with a severe paralytic complaint, from
-which he fortunately recovered without sustaining any mental injury. On
-the incorporation of the Royal Society in 1663, he was named as one of
-the council, in the charter; and as he had been one of the original
-members, so through his life he continued to publish his shorter
-treatises in their Transactions. In 1662 he was appointed by the King,
-Governor of the Corporation for propagating the Gospel in New England.
-The diffusion of Christianity was a favourite subject of exertion with
-him through life. For the sole purpose of exerting a more effectual
-influence in introducing it into India, he became a Director of the East
-India Company; and, at his own expense, caused the Gospels and Acts to
-be translated into Malay, and five hundred copies to be printed and sent
-abroad. He also caused a translation of the Bible into Irish to be made
-and published, at an expense of £700; and bore great part of the expense
-of a similar undertaking in the Welsh language. To other works of the
-same sort he was a liberal contributor: and as in speech and writing he
-was a zealous, yet temperate advocate of religion, so he showed his
-sincerity by a ready extension of his ample funds to all objects which
-tended to promote the religious welfare of his fellow-creatures.
-
-In the year 1666 he took up his abode in London, where he continued
-for the remainder of his life. We have little more to state of his
-personal history. He was elected President of the Royal Society in
-1680, but declined that well-earned honour, as having, in his own
-words, “a great (and perhaps peculiar) tenderness in point of oaths.”
-In the course of 1688 he began to feel his strength decline, and set
-himself seriously to complete those of his undertakings which he
-judged most important, and to arrange such of his papers as required
-to be prepared for publication. It gives us rather a curious notion of
-the scientific morality of the day, to learn that he had been a great
-sufferer by the stealing of his papers. Such at least was his own
-belief, hinted in a public advertisement, and expressed more fully in
-his private communications. His manuscript books disappeared in an
-incomprehensible way, insomuch that he resolved to write upon loose
-sheets of paper, “that the ignorance of the coherence might keep men
-from thinking them worth stealing.” Notwithstanding he complains of
-numerous losses, and expresses a determination to secure the
-“remaining part of his writings, especially those that contain most
-matters of fact, by sending them maimed and unfinished, as they come
-to hand, to the press.” A still more serious loss occurred to him
-through the carelessness of a servant, who broke a bottle of vitriol
-over a box of manuscripts prepared for publication, by which a large
-part of them were utterly ruined. To these misfortunes, the
-non-appearance of many promised works, and the imperfect state of
-others, is to be ascribed. During the years 1689–90, he gradually
-withdrew himself more and more from his other employments, and from
-the claims of society, to devote himself entirely to the preparation
-of his papers. He died, unmarried, December 31, 1691, aged sixty-five
-years, and was buried in the chancel of St. Martin’s-in-the-fields.
-
-To give merely the dates and titles of Boyle’s several publications,
-would occupy several pages. They are collected in five volumes folio, by
-Dr. Birch, and amount in number to ninety-seven. The philosophical works
-have been abridged in three volumes quarto by Dr. Shaw, who has prefixed
-to his edition a character of the author, and of his works. From 1660 to
-the end of his life, every year brought fresh evidence of his close
-application to science, and the versatility of his talents, and the
-extent of his knowledge. His attention was directed to chemistry,
-mathematics, mechanics, medicine, anatomy; but more especially to the
-former, in its many branches: and though he is not altogether free from
-the reproach of credulity, and appears not to have entirely freed
-himself from the delusions of the alchymists, still he did more towards
-overthrowing their mischievous doctrines, and establishing his favourite
-science on a firm foundation, than any man; and his indefatigable
-diligence in inquiry, and unquestioned honesty of relation, entitle him
-to a very high place among the fathers of modern chemistry. On this
-point we may quote the testimony of the celebrated Boerhaave,
-(Chemistry, vol. i. p. 55,) who says, that among the writers who have
-treated of Chemistry with a view to natural philosophy and medicine, we
-may reckon among the chief, the Hon. Robert Boyle. Redi also, in his
-‘Experimenta Naturalia,’ affirms that in experimental philosophy there
-never was any man so distinguished, and that perhaps there never will be
-his equal in discovering natural causes.
-
-It is, however, as the father of pneumatic philosophy that his
-scientific fame is most securely based. To the invention of the air-pump
-he possesses no claim, an instrument of that sort having been exhibited
-in 1654 by Otto Guericke of Magdeburg: but his improvements, and his
-well-combined and ingenious experiments first made that instrument of
-value, and proved the elasticity of the air. These were given to the
-world in his first published, and perhaps his most important work,
-entitled, ‘New Experiments upon the Spring of the Air.’
-
-A considerable portion of Boyle’s works is occupied by religious
-treatises. Two of these, ‘Seraphic Love,’ and a ‘Free Discourse against
-Swearing,’ were written before he had reached the age of twenty; though
-not published for many years after. He established by his will an annual
-lecture, “in proof of the Christian religion against notorious
-infidels.” Bentley was the first preacher on this foundation.
-
-Boyle’s funeral sermon was preached by Bishop Burnet, who had been under
-some obligation to him for assistance in publishing his History of the
-Reformation. The sermon has been considered one of Burnet’s best; and it
-has this advantage, that funeral panegyric has seldom been more
-sincerely and honestly bestowed. We conclude by quoting one or two
-passages, which illustrate the beauty of Boyle’s private character. “He
-had brought his mind to such a freedom that he was not apt to be imposed
-on; and his modesty was such that he did not dictate to others; but
-proposed his own sense with a due and decent distrust, and was ever very
-ready to hearken to what was suggested to him by others. When he
-differed from any, he expressed himself in so humble and obliging a way
-that he never treated things or persons with neglect, and I never heard
-that he offended any one person in his whole life by any part of his
-demeanour. For if at any time he saw cause to speak roundly to any, it
-was never in passion, or with any reproachful or indecent expressions.
-And as he was careful to give those who conversed with him no cause or
-colour for displeasure, he was yet more careful of those who were
-absent, never to speak ill of any, in which he was the exactest man I
-ever knew. If the discourse turned to be hard on any, he was presently
-silent; and if the subject was too long dwelt on, he would at last
-interpose, and, between reproof and raillery, divert it.
-
-“He was exactly civil, even to ceremony, and though he felt his easiness
-of access, and the desires of many, all strangers in particular, to be
-much with him, made great waste of his time; yet, as he was severe in
-that, not to be denied when he was at home, so he said he knew the heart
-of a stranger, and how much eased his own had been, while travelling, if
-admitted to the conversation of those he desired to see; therefore he
-thought his obligation to strangers was more than bare civility; it was
-a piece of religious charity in him.
-
-“He had, for almost forty years, laboured under such a feebleness of
-body, and such lowness of strength and spirits, that it will appear a
-surprising thing to imagine how it was possible for him to read, to
-meditate, to try experiments, and write as he did. He bore all his
-infirmities, and some sharp pains, with the decency and submission that
-became a Christian and philosopher. He had about him all that unaffected
-neglect of pomp in clothes, lodging, furniture, and equipage, which
-agreed with his grave and serious course of life. He was advised to a
-very ungrateful simplicity of diet, which, by all appearance, was that
-which preserved him so long beyond all men’s expectation. This he
-observed so strictly, that in the course of above thirty years he
-neither ate nor drank to gratify the varieties of appetite, but merely
-to support nature; and was so regular in it, that he never once
-transgressed the rule, measure and kind that were prescribed him. * * *
-
-“His knowledge was of so vast an extent, that were it not for the
-variety of vouchers in their several sort, I should be afraid to say all
-I know. He carried the study of Hebrew very far into the Rabbinical
-writings and the other Oriental languages. He had read so much out of
-the Fathers, that he had formed out of it a clear judgment of all the
-eminent ones. He had read a vast deal on the Scriptures, and had gone
-very nicely through the whole controversies on religion, and was a true
-master of the whole body of divinity. He read the whole compass of the
-mathematical sciences; and though he did not set himself to spring any
-new game, yet he knew even the abstrusest parts of geometry. Geography,
-in the several parts of it that related to navigation or travelling,
-history, and books of travels, were his diversions. He went very nicely
-through all the parts of physic; only the tenderness of his nature made
-him less able to endure the exactness of anatomical dissections,
-especially of living animals, though he knew them to be most
-instructive. But for the history of nature, ancient or modern, of the
-productions of all countries, of the virtues and improvements of plants,
-of ores and minerals, and all the varieties that are in them in
-different climates, he was by much, by very much, the readiest and
-perfectest I ever knew, in the greatest compass, and with the truest
-exactness. This put him in the way of making that vast variety of
-experiments, beyond any man, as far as we know, that ever lived. And in
-these, as he made a great progress in new discoveries, so he used so
-nice a strictness, and delivered them with so scrupulous a truth, that
-all who have examined them, may find how safely the world may depend
-upon them. But his peculiar and favourite study was chemistry, in which
-he engaged with none of those ravenous and ambitious designs that draw
-many into them. His design was only to find out Nature, to see into what
-principles things might be resolved, and of what they were compounded,
-and to prepare good medicaments for the bodies of men. He spent neither
-his time nor his fortune upon the vain pursuits of high promises and
-pretensions. He always kept himself within the compass that his estate
-might well bear. And as he made chemistry much the better for his
-dealing with it, so he never made himself either the worse, or the
-poorer for it.”
-
-It would be easy to multiply testimonies of the high reputation in which
-Boyle was held: indeed the reader will find numerous instances collected
-in the article Boyle, in Dr. Kippis’s Biographia Britannica, the perusal
-of which will amply gratify the reader’s curiosity. Still more detailed
-accounts of Boyle’s life and character will be found in other works to
-which we have already referred, especially in Dr. Birch’s Life.
-
-[Illustration: Air-Pump.]
-
-[Illustration:
-
-  _Engraved by E. Scriven._
-
-  SIR ISAAC NEWTON.
-
-  _From the original Picture by Vanderbank in the possession of the
-    Royal Society._
-
-  Under the Superintendance of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful
-    Knowledge.
-
-  _London. Published by Charles Knight, Pall Mall East._
-]
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration]
-
-                                 NEWTON
-
-
-Isaac Newton was born on Christmas-day, 1642 (O. S.), at Woolsthorpe, a
-hamlet in the parish of Colsterworth, in Lincolnshire. In that spot his
-family had possessed a small estate for more than a hundred years; and
-his father died there a few months after his marriage to Harriet
-Ayscough, and before the birth of his son. The widow soon married again,
-and removed to North Witham, the rectory of her second husband, Mr.
-Smith, leaving her son, a weakly child who had not been expected to live
-through the earliest infancy, under the charge of her mother.
-
-Newton’s education was commenced at the parish school, and at the age of
-twelve he was sent to Grantham for classical instruction. At first he
-was idle, but soon rose to the head of the school. The peculiar bent of
-his mind soon showed itself in his recreations. He was fond of drawing,
-and sometimes wrote verses; but he chiefly amused himself with
-mechanical contrivances. Among these was a model of a wind-mill, turned
-either by the wind, or by a mouse enclosed in it, which he called the
-miller; a mechanical carriage moved by the person who sat in it; and a
-water-clock, which was long used in the family of Mr. Clarke, an
-apothecary, with whom he boarded at Grantham. This was not his only
-method of measuring time: the house at Woolsthorpe, whither he returned
-at the age of fifteen, still contains dials made by him during his
-residence there.
-
-Mr. Smith died in 1656, and his widow then returned to Woolsthorpe with
-her three children by her second marriage. She brought Newton himself
-also thither, in the hope that he might be useful in the management of
-the farm. This expectation was fortunately disappointed. When sent to
-Grantham on business, he used to leave its execution to the servant who
-accompanied him, and passed his time in reading, sometimes by the
-way-side, sometimes at the house of Mr. Clark. His mother no longer
-opposed the evident tendency of his disposition. He returned to school
-at Grantham, and was removed thence in his eighteenth year to Trinity
-College, Cambridge.
-
-The 5th of June, 1660, was the day of his admission as a sizer into that
-distinguished society. He applied himself eagerly to the study of
-mathematics, and mastered its difficulties with an ease and rapidity
-which he was afterwards inclined almost to regret, from an opinion that
-a closer attention to its elementary parts would have improved the
-elegance of his own methods of demonstration. In 1664 he became a
-scholar of his college, and in 1667 was elected to a fellowship, which
-he retained beyond the regular time of its expiration in 1675, by a
-special dispensation authorizing him to hold it without taking orders.
-
-It is necessary to return to an earlier date, to trace the series of
-Newton’s discoveries. This is not the occasion for a minute enumeration
-of them, or for any elaborate discussion of their value or explanation
-of their principles; but their history and succession require some
-notice. The earliest appear to have related to pure mathematics. The
-study of Dr. Wallis’s works led him to investigate certain properties of
-series, and this course of research soon conducted him to the celebrated
-Binomial Theorem. The exact date of his invention of the method of
-Fluxions is not known; but it was anterior to 1666, when the breaking
-out of the plague obliged him for a time to quit Cambridge, and
-consequently when he was only about twenty-three years old.
-
-This change of residence interrupted his optical researches, in which he
-had already laid the foundation of his great discoveries. He had
-decomposed light into the coloured rays of which it is compounded, and
-having thus ascertained the principal cause of the confusion of the
-images formed by refraction, he had turned his attention to the
-construction of telescopes which should act by reflection, and be free
-from this evil. He had not, however, overcome the practical difficulties
-of his undertaking, when his retreat from Cambridge for a time stopped
-this train of experiment and invention.
-
-On quitting Cambridge Newton retired to Woolsthorpe, where his mind was
-principally employed upon the system of the world. The theory of
-Copernicus and the discoveries of Galileo and Kepler had at length
-furnished the materials from which the true system was to be deduced. It
-was indeed all involved in Kepler’s celebrated laws. The equable
-description of areas proved the existence of a central force; the
-elliptical form of the planetary orbits, and the relation between their
-magnitude and the time occupied in describing them, ascertained the law
-of its variation. But no one had arisen to demonstrate these necessary
-consequences, or even to conjecture the universal principle from which
-they were derived. The existence of a central force had been surmised,
-and the law of its action guessed at; but no proof had been given of
-either, and little attention had been awakened by the conjecture.
-
-Newton’s discovery appears to have been quite independent of any
-speculations of his predecessors. The circumstances attending it are
-well known: the very spot in which it first dawned upon him is
-ascertained. He was sitting in the garden at Woolsthorpe, when the fall
-of an apple called his attention to the force which caused its descent,
-to the probable limits of its action and law of its operation. Its power
-was not sensibly diminished at any distance at which experiments had
-been made: might it not then extend to the moon and guide that luminary
-in her orbit? It was certain that her motion was regulated in the same
-manner as that of the planets round the sun: if, therefore, the law of
-the sun’s action could be ascertained, that by which the earth acted
-would also be found by analogy. Newton, therefore, proceeded to
-ascertain by calculation from the known elements of the planetary
-orbits, the law of the sun’s action. The great experiment remained: the
-trial whether the moon’s motions showed the force acting upon her to
-correspond with the theoretical amount of terrestrial gravity at her
-distance. The result was disappointment. The trial was to be made by
-ascertaining the exact space by which the earth’s action turned the moon
-aside from her course in a given time. This depended on her actual
-distance from the earth, which was only known by comparison with the
-earth’s diameter. The received estimate of that quantity was very
-erroneous; it proceeded on the supposition that a degree of latitude was
-only sixty English miles, nearly a seventh part less than its actual
-length. The calculation of the moon’s distance and of the space
-described by her, gave results involved in the same proportion of error;
-and thus the space actually described appeared to be a seventh part less
-than that which corresponded to the theory. It was not Newton’s habit to
-force the results of experiments into conformity with hypothesis. He
-could not, indeed, abandon his leading idea, which rested, in the case
-of the planetary motions, on something very nearly amounting to
-demonstration. But it seemed that some modification was required before
-it could be applied to the moon’s motion, and no satisfactory solution
-of the difficulty occurred. The scheme therefore was incomplete, and, in
-conformity with his constant habit of producing nothing till it was
-fully matured, Newton kept it undivulged for many years.
-
-On his return to Cambridge Newton again applied himself to the
-construction of reflecting telescopes, and succeeded in effecting it in
-1668. In the following year Dr. Barrow resigned in his favour the
-Lucasian professorship of mathematics, which Newton continued to hold
-till the year 1703, when Whiston, who had been his deputy from 1699,
-succeeded him in the chair. On January 11, 1672, Newton was elected a
-Fellow of the Royal Society. He was then best known by the invention of
-the reflecting telescope; but immediately on his election he
-communicated to the Society the particulars of his theory of light, on
-which he had already delivered three courses of lectures at Cambridge,
-and they were shortly afterwards published in the Philosophical
-Transactions.
-
-It is impossible here to state the various phenomena of light and
-colours which were first detected and explained by Newton. They entirely
-changed the science of optics, and every advance which has since been
-made in it has only added to the importance and confirmed the value of
-his observations. The success of the new theory was complete. Newton,
-however, was much vexed and harassed by the discussions which it
-occasioned. The annoyance which he thus experienced made him even think
-of abandoning the pursuit of science, and although it failed to withdraw
-him from the studies to which he was devoted, it confirmed him in his
-unwillingness to publish their results.
-
-The next few years of Newton’s life were not marked by any remarkable
-events. They were passed almost entirely at Cambridge, in the
-prosecution of the researches in which he was engaged. The most
-important incident was the communication to Oldenburgh, and, through
-him, to Leibnitz, that he possessed a method of determining maxima and
-minima, of drawing tangents, and performing other difficult mathematical
-operations. This was the method of fluxions, but he did not announce its
-name or its processes. Leibnitz, in return, explained to him the
-principles and processes of the Differential Calculus. This
-correspondence took place in the years 1676 and 1677: but the method of
-fluxions had been communicated to Barrow and Collins as early as 1669,
-in a tract, first printed in 1711, under the title ‘Analysis per
-equationes numero terminorum infinitas.’ Newton had indeed intended to
-publish his discovery as an introduction to an edition of Kinckhuysen’s
-Algebra, which he undertook to prepare in 1672; but the fear of
-controversy prevented him, and the method of fluxions was not publicly
-announced till the appearance of the Principia in 1687. The edition of
-Kinckhuysen’s treatise did not appear; but the same year, 1672, was
-marked by Newton’s editing the Geography of Varenius.
-
-In 1679 Newton’s attention was again called to the theory of
-gravitation, and by a fuller investigation of the conditions of
-elliptical motion, he was confirmed in the opinion that the phenomena of
-the planets were referable to an attractive force in the sun, of which
-the intensity varied in the inverse proportion of the square of the
-distance. The difficulty about the amount of the moon’s motion remained,
-but it was shortly to be removed. In 1679 Picard effected a new
-measurement of a degree of the earth’s surface, and Newton heard of the
-result at a meeting of the Royal Society in June, 1682. He immediately
-returned home to repeat his former calculation with these new data.
-Every step of the process made it more probable that the discrepance
-which had so long perplexed him would wholly disappear: and so great was
-his excitement at the prospect of entire success that he was unable to
-proceed with the calculation, and intrusted its completion to a friend.
-The triumph was perfect, and he found the theory of his youth sufficient
-to explain all the great phenomena of nature.
-
-From this time Newton devoted unremitting attention to the development
-of his system, and a period of nearly two years was entirely absorbed by
-it. In 1684 the outline of the mighty work was finished; yet it is
-likely that it would still have remained unknown, had not Halley, who
-was himself on the track of some part of the discovery, gone to
-Cambridge in August of that year to consult Newton about some
-difficulties he had met with. Newton communicated to him a treatise De
-Motu Corporum, which afterwards, with some additions, formed the first
-two books of the Principia. Even then Halley found it difficult to
-persuade him to communicate the treatise to the Royal Society, but he
-finally did so in April, 1686, with a desire that it should not
-immediately be published, as there were yet many things to complete.
-Hooke, whose unwearied ingenuity had guessed at the true law of gravity,
-immediately claimed to himself the honour of the discovery; how unjustly
-it is needless to say, for the merit consisted not in the conjecture but
-the demonstration. Newton was inclined in consequence to prevent the
-publication of the work, or at least of the third part, De Mundi
-Systemate, in which the mathematical conclusions of the former books
-were applied to the system of the universe. Happily his reluctance was
-overcome, and the whole work was published in May, 1687. Its doctrines
-were too novel and surprising to meet with immediate assent; but the
-illustrious author at once received the tribute of admiration for the
-boldness which had formed, and the skill which had developed his theory,
-and he lived to see it become the common philosophical creed of all
-nations.
-
-We next find Newton acting in a very different character. James II. had
-insulted the University of Cambridge by a requisition to admit a
-Benedictine monk to the degree of Master of Arts without taking the
-oaths enjoined by the constitution of the University. The mandate was
-disobeyed; and the Vice-Chancellor was summoned before the
-Ecclesiastical Commission to answer for the contempt. Nine delegates, of
-whom Newton was one, were appointed by the University to defend their
-proceedings; and their exertions were successful. He was soon after
-elected to the Convention Parliament as member for the University of
-Cambridge. That parliament was dissolved in February, 1690, and Newton,
-who was not a candidate for a seat in the one which succeeded it,
-returned to Cambridge, where he continued to reside for some years,
-notwithstanding the efforts of Locke, and some other distinguished
-persons with whom he had become acquainted in London, to fix him
-permanently in the metropolis.
-
-During this time he continued to be occupied with philosophical
-research, and with scientific and literary correspondence. Chemical
-investigations appear to have engaged much of his time; but the
-principal results of his studies were lost to the world by a fire in his
-chambers about the year 1692. The consequences of this accident have
-been very differently related. According to one version, a favourite
-dog, called Diamond, caused the mischief, and the story has been often
-told, that Newton was only provoked, by the loss of the labour of years,
-to the exclamation, “Oh, Diamond! Diamond! thou little knowest the
-mischief thou hast done.” Another, and probably a better authenticated
-account, represents the disappointment as preying deeply on his spirits
-for at least a month from the occurrence.
-
-We have more means of tracing Newton’s other pursuits about this time.
-History, chronology, and divinity were his favourite relaxations from
-science, and his reputation stood high as a proficient in these studies.
-In 1690 he communicated to Locke his ‘Historical account of two notable
-corruptions of the Scriptures,’ which was first published long after his
-death. About the same time he was engaged in those researches which were
-afterwards embodied in his Observations on the Prophecies: and in
-December, 1692, he was in correspondence with Bentley on the application
-of his own system to the support of natural theology.
-
-During the latter part of 1692 and the beginning of 1693 Newton’s health
-was considerably impaired, and he laboured in the summer under some
-epidemic disorder. It is not likely that the precise character or amount
-of his indisposition will ever be discovered; but it seems, though the
-opinion has been much controverted, that for a short time it affected
-his understanding, and that in September, 1693, he was not in the full
-possession of his mental faculties. The disease was soon removed, and
-there is no reason to suppose that it ever recurred. But the course of
-his life was changed; and from this time forward he devoted himself
-chiefly to the completion of his former works, and abstained from any
-new career of continued research.
-
-His time indeed was less at his own disposal than it had been. In 1696,
-Mr. Montague, the Chancellor of the Exchequer, an early friend of
-Newton, appointed him to the Wardenship of the Mint, and in 1699 he was
-raised to the office of Master. He removed to London, and was much
-occupied, especially during the new coinage in 1696 and 1697, with the
-duties of his office. Still he found time to superintend the editions of
-his earlier works, which successively appeared with very material
-additions and improvements. The great work on Optics appeared for the
-first time in a complete form in 1704, after the death of Hooke had
-freed Newton from the fear of new controversies. It was accompanied by
-some of his earlier mathematical treatises; and contained also, in
-addition to the principal subject of the work, suggestions on a variety
-of subjects of the highest philosophical interest, embodied in the shape
-of queries. Among these is to be found the first suggestion of the
-polarity of light; and we may mention at the same time, although they
-occur in a different part of the work, the remarkable conjectures, since
-verified, of the combustible nature of the diamond, and the existence of
-an inflammable principle in water. The second edition of the Principia
-appeared under the care of Cotes in 1713, after having been the subject
-of correspondence between Newton and his editor for nearly four years.
-Dr. Pemberton published a third edition in 1725, and he frequently
-communicated about the work with Newton who was then eighty-two years
-old.
-
-These were the chief scientific employments of Newton’s latter life: and
-it is not necessary to particularize all its minor details. In 1712 he
-made some improvements in his Arithmetica Universalis, a work containing
-his algebraical discoveries, of which Whiston had surreptitiously
-published an edition in 1707. It is also worthy of remark that at the
-beginning of the year 1697, John Bernouilli addressed two problems as a
-challenge to the mathematicians of Europe, and that Leibnitz in 1716
-made a similar appeal to the English analysts; and that Newton in each
-case undertook and succeeded in the investigation.
-
-This enumeration of Newton’s philosophical employments has far outrun
-the order of time. After his return to London, compliments and honours
-flowed in rapidly upon him. In 1699 he was elected one of the first
-foreign associates of the Académie des Sciences at Paris; and in 1701 he
-was a second time returned to Parliament by the University of Cambridge.
-He did not, however, long retain his seat. At the election in 1705 he
-was at the bottom of the poll, and he does not appear again to have been
-a candidate. In 1703 he was chosen President of the Royal Society, and
-held that office till his death. In 1705 he was knighted by Queen Anne
-upon her visit to Cambridge.
-
-Newton’s life in London was one of much dignity and comfort. He was
-courted by the distinguished of all ranks, and particularly by the
-Princess of Wales, who derived much pleasure from her intercourse both
-with him and Leibnitz. His domestic establishment was liberal, and was
-superintended during great part of his time by his niece, Mrs. Barton, a
-woman of much beauty and talent, who married Mr. Conduitt, his assistant
-and successor at the Mint. Newton’s liberality was almost boundless, yet
-he died rich.
-
-The only material drawback to Newton’s enjoyment during this portion of
-his life, seems to have arisen from controversies as to the history and
-originality of his discoveries; a molestation to which his slowness to
-publish them very naturally exposed him. There was a long and angry
-dispute with Leibnitz about the priority of fluxions or the differential
-calculus; and, after the fashion of most disputes, it diverged widely
-from the original ground, and it became necessary for Newton to
-vindicate the religious and metaphysical tendencies of his greatest
-works. His success was complete on all points. Leibnitz does not appear
-to have been acquainted with the method of fluxions at the time of his
-own discovery, but there is now no doubt of Newton’s having preceded him
-by some years; and the attacks made on the tendency of Newton’s
-discoveries have long been remembered only as disgracing their author.
-But such discussions had always been distasteful to Newton, and this
-controversy, which was conducted with great rancour by his opponents and
-some of his supporters, embittered his later years.
-
-The same fate awaited him in another instance. His system of Chronology
-had been long conceived, but he had not communicated it to any one until
-he explained it to the Princess of Wales. At her desire, he afterwards,
-in 1718, drew up a short abstract of it for her use, and sent it to her
-on condition that no one else should see it. She afterwards requested
-that the Abbé Conti might have a copy of it, and Newton complied, but
-still on the terms that it should not be farther divulged. Conti,
-however, showed the manuscript at Paris to Freret, who, without the
-author’s permission, translated and published it with observations in
-opposition to its doctrines. Newton drew up a reply which was printed in
-the Philosophical Transactions for 1725, and this was the signal for a
-new attack by Souciet. Newton was then roused to his last great
-exertion, that of fully digesting his system; which as yet existed only
-in confused papers, and preparing it for the press. He did not live to
-complete his task, but the work was left in a state of great
-forwardness, and was published in 1728 by Mr. Conduitt. Its value is
-well known. As a refutation of the systems of chronology then received,
-it is almost demonstrative; and the affirmative conclusions, if not
-always minutely correct, or even generally satisfactory, are yet among
-the most valuable contributions which science has made to history.
-
-With the exception of the attack of 1693, Newton’s health had usually
-been very good. But he suffered much from stone during the last few
-years of his life. His mental faculties remained in general unaffected,
-but his memory was much impaired. From the year 1725 he lived at
-Kensington, but was still fond of going occasionally to London, and
-visited it on February 28th, 1727, to preside at a meeting of the Royal
-Society. The fatigue appears to have been too great: for the disease
-attacked him violently on the 4th of March, and he lingered till the
-20th, when he died. His sufferings were severe, but his temper was never
-soured, nor the benevolence of his nature obscured. Indeed his moral was
-not less admirable than his intellectual character, and it was guided
-and supported by that religion, which he had studied not from
-speculative curiosity, but with the serious application of a mind
-habitually occupied with its duties, and earnestly desirous of its
-advancement.
-
-Newton died without a will, and his property descended to Mrs. Conduitt
-and his other relations in the same degree. He was buried with great
-pomp in Westminster Abbey, where there is a monument to his memory,
-erected by his relations. His Chronology appeared, as has been already
-mentioned, almost immediately after his death; and the Lectiones Opticæ,
-the substance of his lectures at Cambridge in the years 1669, 1670, and
-1671, were published from his manuscripts in 1729. In 1733, Mr. Benjamin
-Smith, one of the descendants of his mother’s second marriage, published
-the Observations on the Prophecies. These, in addition to the works
-already mentioned, are Newton’s principal writings; there are, however,
-several smaller tracts, some of which appeared during his lifetime, and
-some after his death, which it is not necessary here to specify. They
-would have conferred much honour on most philosophers;—they are hardly
-remembered in reckoning up Newton’s titles to fame.
-
-[Illustration: Roubiliac’s Statue from the Chapel of Trinity College.]
-
-Many portraits of Newton are in existence. The Royal Society possesses
-two; and Lord Egremont is the owner of one, which is engraved as the
-frontispiece to Dr. Brewster’s Life of Newton. Trinity College,
-Cambridge, abounds in memorials of its greatest ornament. Almost every
-room dedicated to public purposes possesses a picture of him, and the
-chapel is adorned by Roubiliac’s noble statue. The library also has a
-bust by the same artist, of perhaps even superior excellence. As works
-of art these are far superior to any of the paintings extant: but they
-have not the claim to authenticity possessed by the contemporary
-portraits. It is remarkable, that until the recent publication of Dr.
-Brewster’s life, no one had thought it worth while to devote an entire
-work to the history of so remarkable a man as Newton. There is, however,
-an elaborate memoir of him, written by M. Biot, in the Biographie
-Universelle, which has been republished in the Library of Useful
-Knowledge.
-
-[Illustration:
-
-  _Engraved by R. Woodman._
-
-  MICHAEL ANGELO BUONAROTI.
-
-  _From a Picture by V. Campil, in the possession of the Right Hon. Lord
-    Dover._
-
-  Under the Superintendance of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful
-    Knowledge.
-
-  _London. Published by Charles Knight, Pall Mall East._
-]
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration]
-
-                             MICHAEL ANGELO
-
-
-Michael Angelo Buonaroti was born at the castle of Caprese in Tuscany,
-on March 6, 1474–5. He was descended from a noble, though not a wealthy
-family; and his father endeavoured to check the fondness for drawing
-which he showed at an early age, lest he should disgrace his parentage
-by following what was then deemed little better than a mechanical
-employment. Fortunately for the arts, the bent of the son’s genius was
-too decided to be foiled by the parent’s pride; and in April, 1488,
-young Buonaroti was placed under the tuition of Ghirlandaio, then the
-most eminent painter in Italy.
-
-He soon distinguished himself above his fellow pupils, and was fortunate
-in attracting the notice of Lorenzo de Medici; but the early death of
-his patron, and the troubles which ensued in Florence, clouded the
-brilliant prospects which seemed open to him. He first visited Rome when
-about twenty-two years old, at the invitation of Cardinal St. Giorgio;
-and resided in that city for a year, without being employed to execute
-anything for his pretended patron. He obtained three commissions,
-however, from other quarters; one for a Cupid, a second for a statue of
-Bacchus, a third for a Virgin and dead Christ, which forms the
-altar-piece of a chapel in St. Peter’s. The latter work was the most
-important, and established his character as one of the first sculptors
-of the day.
-
-Returning to Florence soon after the appointment of Sodarini to be
-perpetual Gonfaloniere, or standard-bearer, an office equivalent to that
-of president of the republic, he found ampler room for the development
-of his talents in the favour of the chief magistrate; for whom he
-executed the celebrated statue of David, in marble, placed in front of
-the Palazzo Vecchio; and another statue of David, and a group of David
-and Goliath, both in bronze. To this period we are also to refer an oil
-picture of a Holy Family, painted for Angelo Doni, and now in the
-Florence gallery; the only oil painting which can be authenticated as
-proceeding from his hand.
-
-The accounts of Michael Angelo’s early life relate so exclusively to his
-skill and practice as a sculptor, that some wonder may be felt as to the
-means by which he acquired the technical science and dexterity necessary
-to the painter. But it was in composition, and as a draughtsman that he
-excelled, not as a colourist; and the same intimate knowledge of the
-human figure, and freedom and boldness of hand, which guided his chisel,
-often, it is said, without a model, will account for the anatomical
-excellence and energy of his drawings. Nevertheless it is surprising to
-find him at this early age rivalling, and indeed by general suffrage
-excelling in his own art Leonardo da Vinci, not only the first painter
-of his generation, but one of the most accomplished persons of his age.
-The work to which we allude, the celebrated Cartoon of Pisa, painted as
-a companion to a battle-piece of Leonardo, has long disappeared; and is
-generally supposed to have been destroyed clandestinely by Baccio
-Bandinelli, a rival artist, of whose envious and cowardly temper some
-amusing anecdotes are related in Benvenuto Cellini’s autobiography. It
-represented a party of Florentine soldiers, disturbed, while bathing in
-the Arno, by a sudden call to arms. Only one copy of it is said to
-exist, which is preserved in Mr. Coke’s collection at Holkham.
-
-When Julius II. ascended the papal chair, he invited Michael Angelo to
-Rome, and commissioned him to erect a splendid tomb. The original
-design, a sketch of which may be seen in Bottari’s edition of Vasari,
-was for an insulated building, thirty-four feet six inches by
-twenty-three feet, ornamented with forty statues, many of colossal size,
-and a vast number of bronze and marble columns, basso-relievos, and
-every species of architectural decoration of the richest sort. This
-commission, upon the due execution of which Michael Angelo set his
-heart, as a worthy opportunity of immortalizing his name, was destined
-to involve him in a long train of vexations. During the life of Julius,
-the attention which he wished to concentrate on this one great work was
-distracted by a variety of other employments forced on him by his
-patron. Upon his death, it was resolved to finish it on a smaller scale:
-but its progress was then more seriously interrupted by the eagerness of
-successive Popes to employ the great artist on works which should
-immortalize their own names as liberal patrons of the arts. Ultimately,
-after much dissatisfaction and dispute on the part of Pope Julius’s
-heirs, the form of the monument was altered; and as it now stands in the
-church of St. Pietro in Vinculis, it consists only of a façade,
-ornamented by seven statues, three of which are from the hand of Michael
-Angelo, the others are by inferior artists. The central figure is the
-celebrated Moses, by many considered the finest modern work of
-sculpture; and this is the only part of the original composition.
-
-During the same pontificate, Michael Angelo painted the ceiling of the
-Sistine chapel. The employment was not to his taste; but it was forced
-upon him by Pope Julius. He had never tried his powers in fresco
-painting; and that branch of the art, as is well known, involves many
-difficulties, which, though merely mechanical, it requires some practice
-and experience to surmount. Having first completed the design in a
-series of cartoons, he sent to Florence to engage the ablest assistants
-to be found: but their labours were unsatisfactory, and dismissing them,
-he set to work himself, and executed the whole vault with his own hands,
-in the short space of twenty months.
-
-Julius II. died in 1513. The next nine years, comprehending the
-pontificate of Leo X., are an entire blank in Michael Angelo’s life, so
-far as regards the practice of his art. He was employed the whole time,
-by the Pope’s express order, in superintending some new marble quarries
-in the mountains of Tuscany.
-
-During the pontificate of Adrian VI. he resided at Florence, where
-Giuliano de Medici, afterwards Clement VII., employed him to build a new
-library and sacristy to the church of St. Lorenzo, and a sepulchral
-chapel, to serve as a mausoleum for the ducal family. He was also
-employed to execute two monuments in honour of Giuliano, the brother,
-and Lorenzo de Medici, the nephew, of Leo X. The princes are represented
-seated, in the Roman military habit, above two sarcophagi. Below are two
-recumbent figures to each monument, one pair representing Morning and
-Evening; the other, Day and Night. The reason for this singular choice
-of personages is not explained.
-
-We cannot enter upon the maze of Italian politics, which led to the
-siege of Florence by the imperial troops in 1529–30. Michael Angelo’s
-well-known and varied talent led to his being appointed chief engineer
-and master of the ordnance to the city; in which capacity he gained new
-honour by his skill, resolution, and patriotism. During this turbulent
-time he began a picture of Leda, which was sent to France, and fell into
-the possession of Francis I. It has long been lost; the original cartoon
-is in the collection of the Royal Academy.
-
-Michael Angelo’s second work in fresco, the Last Judgment, occupying the
-east end of the Sistine chapel, seems to have been begun in 1533 or
-1534. It was not finished till 1541. His last and only other works of
-this kind were two large pictures in the Pauline chapel, representing
-the Martyrdom of St. Peter, and the Conversion of St. Paul. These were
-not completed till he had reached the advanced age of seventy-five.
-
-In 1546 died Antonio da San Gallo, the third architect employed in the
-rebuilding of St. Peter’s. The project of renewing the metropolitan
-church of Rome was first suggested to the ambitious mind of Pope Julius
-II. by the impossibility of finding any place in the then existing
-cathedral, worthy of the splendid monument which he had ordered Michael
-Angelo to execute. Bramante, Raphael, and San Gallo, were successively
-appointed to conduct the mighty undertaking, and removed by death. San
-Gallo had deviated materially from the design of Bramante. Michael
-Angelo disapproved of his alterations; but was deterred from returning
-to the original plan by its vast extent, and the necessity of
-contracting the extent of the work so as to meet the impoverished state
-of the Papal treasury, produced by the spreading of the Reformation in
-Germany and England. He accordingly gave in the design from which the
-present building was erected, which, gigantic as it is, falls short of
-the dimensions of that which Julius proposed to raise. Having now
-reached the advanced age of seventy-one, it was with reluctance that he
-undertook so heavy a charge. It was, indeed, only by the absolute
-command of the Pope that he was induced to do so; and on the unusual
-condition that he should receive no salary, as he accepted the office
-purely from devotional feelings. He also made it a condition that he
-should be absolutely empowered to discharge any persons employed in the
-works, and to supply their places at his pleasure.
-
-To the independent and upright feelings which led him to insist on this
-latter clause, the factious opposition, which harassed the remainder of
-his life, is partly to be ascribed. Disinterested himself, he suffered
-no peculation under his administration; and he was repaid by the hatred
-of a powerful party connected with those whose vanity his appointment
-wounded, or whose interests his honesty crossed. Repeated attempts were
-made to procure his removal, to which he would willingly have yielded,
-but for a due sense of the greatness of the work which he had
-undertaken, and reluctance to quit it, until too far advanced to be
-altered and spoiled by some inferior hand. This praiseworthy solicitude
-was not disappointed. During the life of Paul, and through four
-succeeding pontificates, he held the situation of chief architect; and
-before his death, in February, 1563–4, the cupola was raised, and the
-principal features of the building unalterably determined.
-
-His earlier architectural works are to be seen at Florence. They consist
-of the façade and sacristy of the church of St. Lorenzo, left unfinished
-by Brunelleschi, the mausoleum of the Medici family, and the Laurentian
-library. During the latter part of his life he amused his leisure hours
-by working on a group representing a dead Christ, supported by the
-Virgin and Nicodemus, which he intended for an altar-piece to the chapel
-in which he should himself be interred. It was never finished, however,
-and is now in the cathedral of Florence. But, from the time of his
-assuming the charge of St. Peter’s, his attention was almost entirely
-devoted to architecture. His chief works were the completion of the
-Farnese palace, begun by San Gallo; the palace of the Senator of Rome,
-the picture galleries, and flight of steps leading up to the convent of
-Araceli, all situated on the Capitoline hill; and the conversion of the
-baths of Diocletian into the church of S. Maria degli Angeli.
-
-Michael Angelo, though he painted few pictures himself, frequently gave
-designs to be executed by his favourite pupils, especially Sebastiano
-del Piombo. Such was the origin of the magnificent Raising of Lazarus,
-in the National Gallery. Like many artists of that age, he aspired to be
-a poet. His works consist chiefly of sonnets, modelled on the style of
-Petrarch. Religion and Love are the prevailing subjects.
-
-The Life of Michael Angelo, by Mr. Duppa, will gratify the curiosity of
-the English reader, who wishes to pursue the subject beyond this mere
-list of the artist’s principal works. To the Italian reader we may
-recommend the lives of Condivi and Vasari, as containing the original
-information from which subsequent writers have drawn their accounts. To
-do justice to the versatile, yet profound genius of this great man, is a
-task which we must leave to such writers as Reynolds and Fuseli, in
-whose lectures the reader will find ample evidence of the profound
-admiration with which they regarded him. Nor can we conclude better than
-with the short but energetic character given by the latter, of his
-favourite artist’s style of genius, and of his principal works:—
-
-“Sublimity of conception, grandeur of form, and breadth of manner, are
-the elements of Michael Angelo’s style. By these principles he selected
-or rejected the objects of imitation. As painter, as sculptor, as
-architect, he attempted, and above any other man, succeeded, to unite
-magnificence of plan, and endless variety of subordinate parts, with the
-utmost simplicity and breadth. His line is uniformly grand: character
-and beauty were admitted only as far as they could be made subservient
-to grandeur. To give the appearance of perfect ease to the most
-perplexing difficulty, was the exclusive power of Michael Angelo. He is
-the inventor of epic painting, in that sublime circle of the Sistine
-chapel which exhibits the origin, the progress, and the final
-dispensations of theocracy. He has personified motion in the groups of
-the Cartoon of Pisa; embodied sentiment on the monuments of S. Lorenzo;
-unravelled the features of meditation in the Prophets and Sibyls of the
-Sistine chapel; and in the Last Judgment, with every attitude that
-varies the human body, traced the master-trait of every passion that
-sways the human heart. Though, as sculptor, he expressed the character
-of flesh more perfectly than all who came before or went after him, yet
-he never submitted to copy an individual, Julius II. only excepted; and
-in him he represented the reigning passion rather than the man. In
-painting he has contented himself with a negative colour, and as the
-painter of mankind, rejected all meretricious ornament. The fabric of
-St. Peter’s, scattered into infinity of jarring parts by Bramante and
-his successors, he concentrated; suspended the cupola, and to the most
-complex gave the air of the most simple of edifices. Such, take him for
-all in all, was M. Angelo, the salt of art: sometimes he no doubt had
-his moments of dereliction, deviated into manner, or perplexed the
-grandeur of his forms with futile and ostentatious anatomy: both met
-with armies of copyists; and it has been his fate to be censured for
-their folly.”—(Lecture II.)
-
-[Illustration:
-
-  JACKSON
-
-  From the Monument of Giuliano de Medici.
-]
-
-[Illustration:
-
-  _Engraved by J. Posselwhite._
-
-  MOLIERE.
-
-  _From the original Picture of Lebrun’s School, in the collection of
-    the Musée Royale. Paris._
-
-  Under the Superintendance of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful
-    Knowledge.
-
-  _London. Published by Charles Knight, Pall Mall East._
-]
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration]
-
-                                MOLIERE
-
-
-Moliere, the contemporary of Corneille and Racine, whose original and
-real name was Jean Baptiste Poquelin, was born at Paris on the 15th
-January, 1622. His father and mother were both in trade; and they
-brought up their son to their own occupation. At the age of fourteen,
-young Poquelin could neither read, write, nor cast accounts. But the
-grandfather was very fond of him; and being himself a great lover of
-plays, often took his favourite to the theatre. The natural genius of
-the boy was, by this initiation, kindled into a decided taste for
-dramatic entertainments: a disgust to trade was the consequence, and a
-desire of that mental cultivation from which he had hitherto been
-debarred. His father consented at length to his becoming a pupil of the
-Jesuits at the College of Clermont. He remained there five years, and
-was fortunate enough to be the class-fellow of Armand de Bourbon, Prince
-de Conti, whose friendship and protection proved of signal service to
-him in after-life. He studied under the celebrated Gassendi, who was so
-impressed by the apparent aptitude of young Poquelin to receive
-instruction, that he admitted him to the private lectures given to his
-other pupils. Gassendi was in the habit of breaking a lance with two
-great rivals: Aristotle, at the head of ancient, and Descartes, then at
-the head of modern philosophy. By witnessing this combat, Poquelin
-acquired a habit of independent reasoning, sound principles, extensive
-knowledge, and that feeling of practical good sense, which was so
-conspicuous not only in his most laboured, but even in his lightest
-productions.
-
-His studies under Gassendi were abruptly terminated by the following
-circumstance. His father was attached to the court in the double
-capacity of valet-de-chambre and tapestry-maker; and the son had the
-reversion of these places. When Louis XIII. went to Narbonne in 1641,
-the old man was ill, and the young one was obliged to officiate for him.
-On his return to Paris, his passion for the stage, which had first led
-him into the paths of literature, revived with renewed strength. The
-taste of Cardinal de Richelieu for theatrical performances was
-communicated to the nation at large, and a peculiar protection was
-granted to dramatic poets. Many little societies were formed for acting
-plays in private houses, for the amusement at least of the performers.
-Poquelin collected a company of young stage-stricken heroes, who so far
-exceeded all their rivals, as to earn for their establishment the
-pompous title of The Illustrious Theatre. He now determined to make the
-stage his profession, and changing his name, according to the usage in
-such cases, adopted that of Moliere.
-
-He disappears during the time of the civil wars, from 1648 to 1652; but
-we may suppose the interval to have been passed in composing some of
-those pieces which were afterwards brought before the public. When the
-disturbances ceased, Moliere, in partnership with an actress of
-Champagne, named La Béjard, formed a strolling company; and his first
-regular piece, called L’Etourdi, or the Blunderer, was performed at
-Lyons in 1653. Another company of comedians settled in that town was
-deserted by the spectators in favour of these clever vagabonds; and the
-principal performers of the regular establishment took the hint,
-pocketed their dignity, and joined Moliere. The united company
-transferred itself to Languedoc, and were retained in the service of the
-Prince of Conti. During the Carnival of 1658, the troop, having resumed
-their vagrant life, were playing at Grenoble. The following summer was
-passed at Rouen. When so near Paris, Moliere made occasional journeys
-thither, with the earnest hope of bettering his fortune in the
-metropolis, where the market for talent is always brisk and open, the
-competition, though severe, fair and encouraging. Once more he received
-protection from his august fellow-collegian, who introduced him to
-Monsieur, and ultimately to the King himself. The company appeared
-before their Majesties and the court for the first time, on the 3d of
-November, 1658, on a stage erected in the Hall of the Guards in the Old
-Louvre. Their success was so complete that the King gave orders for
-their permanent settlement in Paris, and they were allowed to act
-alternately with the Italian players in the Hall of the Petit Bourbon.
-In 1663 a pension of a thousand livres was granted to Moliere, and in
-1665 his company was taken altogether into the King’s service.
-
-As in the course of about fifteen years he produced more than double
-that number of dramatic pieces, instead of giving, within our narrow
-limits, a mere dry catalogue of titles, we shall make some more detailed
-remarks on a few of those masterpieces, in different styles, which not
-only raised the character of French comedy to a great height in France
-itself, but in a great measure furnished the staple to some of our own
-most distinguished writers.
-
-Among many persons of taste and judgment, the Misantrope has borne the
-character of being the most finished of all Moliere’s pieces; of
-combining the most powerful efforts of united genius and art. The
-subject is single, and the unities are exactly observed. The principal
-person of the drama is strongly conceived, and brought out with the
-boldest strokes of the master’s pencil: it is throughout uniform, and in
-strict keeping. The subordinate persons are equally well drawn, and
-fitted for their business in the scene, so as to throw an artist-like
-light upon the chief figure. The scenes and incidents are so contrived
-and conducted as to diversify the main character, and set it in various
-points of view. The sentiments are strong and nervous as well as proper;
-and the good sense with which the piece is fraught, proves that the
-bustle and dissipation of the court and the theatre had not obliterated
-the lessons of the college, or the lectures of Gassendi. The title of
-the play will at once bring to the mind of an Englishman our own Timon
-of Athens; but there are scarcely any other points of resemblance. The
-ancient and the modern Man-hater had little in common: the Athenian was
-the victim of personal ill-treatment; having suffered by excess of
-good-nature and credulity, he runs into the other extreme of suspicion
-and revenge. Moliere’s Man-hater owes his character to the severity of
-virtue, which can give no quarter to the vices of mankind; to that
-sincerity which disdains indiscriminate complaisance, and the
-prostitution of the language of friendship to the flattery of fools and
-knaves. Wycherley, in his Plain Dealer, has given the French Misantrope
-an English dress. Manly is a character of humour, speaking and acting
-from a peculiar bias of temper and inclination; but the coarseness of
-the _plain dealing_ is not to be tolerated, and what Manly _does_ goes
-near to counteract the moral effect of what he _says_.
-
-By way of contrasting the various talents of the author, than whom none
-better understood human nature in its various ramifications, or copied
-more skilfully every shade and gradation of manners, we may just mention
-the Bourgeois Gentilhomme, exhibiting the folly and affectation of a cit
-turned man of fashion. If the moral of the Misantrope be pure, the wit
-of the Bourgeois is terse and diverting.
-
-In several of his comedies he has treated medicine and its professors
-not only with freedom but severity; it was, however, perverted medicine
-only, and its quack professors that were the subjects of his ridicule.
-The respectable members of the faculty could be no more affected by the
-satire, nor displeased by what they could not fear, than a true prophet
-by the punishment of imposture. Those who are acquainted with the
-history of the science will recollect the state of it at Paris in
-Moliere’s time, and the character of the physicians. Their whole
-employment was confined to searching after visionary specifics, and
-experimental trickery in chemistry. The cause of a disease was never
-inquired after, nor the symptoms regarded; but hypothetical jargon and
-random prescription were thrown like dust into the eyes of the patient,
-to the exclusion of a practice founded on science and observation. Thus
-medicine became a pest instead of a remedy; and this state of things
-justified the chastisement inflicted.
-
-Les Précieuses Ridicules is a comedy intended to reprove a vain,
-fantastical, and preposterous humour prevailing very much about that
-time in France. It had the desired effect, and conduced materially
-towards rooting out a taste in manners so unreasonable and ridiculous.
-
-Tartuffe, or The Impostor, has occasionally, and even recently,
-sometimes to the disturbance of the public peace in France, given great
-offence not only to those who felt the justice, and winced under the
-severity of the satire; but to others, who suspected that a blow was
-aimed at religion, under the mask of an attack upon hypocrisy. But its
-intrinsic merit, the truth of the drawing, and the justness of the
-colouring, have secured patrons for it among persons of unquestionable
-sense, virtue, learning, and taste; and it has always triumphed over the
-violence of opposition. Cibber, a vamper of other men’s plays, has
-borrowed from it his favourite Nonjuror, and applied it to the purposes
-of a political party. On this adaptation has been grafted a more modern
-attack on the Methodists, under the title of The Hypocrite. But however
-great may be the merit of this celebrated drama, it cannot boast of
-entire originality. Machiavelli left behind him three comedies, the
-fruits of a statesman’s leisure hours. In all three, the author has
-exhibited the hand of a master; he has painted mankind in the spirit of
-truth, and unmasked falsehood and hypocrisy in a tone of profound
-contempt. Two monks, a brother Timothy and a brother Alberico, are
-represented with too much wit and keenness of sarcasm to have been
-overlooked by Moliere in his working up of the third specimen. The first
-three acts of the Tartuffe were played for the first time at court
-before the piece was finished. Masques of pomp, magnificence and
-panegyric, such as usually furnish out the amusement of royal saloons,
-are forgotten as soon as they have served the purpose of the moment: but
-masterpieces like that now in question perpetuate their own renown, and
-leave a lasting memorial of what is supposed to be a phenomenon, a
-princely taste for genuine wit.
-
-Les Fâcheux was the first piece in which dancing was so connected with
-the dramatic action, as to fill up the intervals without breaking the
-thread of the story.
-
-Le Mariage Forcé was borrowed from Rabelais, to whom both Moliere and La
-Fontaine were deeply indebted. The Aristotelian and Pyrrhonian
-philosophy, as travestied by modern doctors, furnishes occasion for
-lively satire and clever buffoonery. The horror with which Pancrace
-calls down the vengeance of heaven on him who should dare to say the
-_form_ of a hat, instead of the _figure_ of a hat, is a pleasant parody
-on the unintelligible absurdities of the schools. According to
-Marphurius, philosophy commands us to suspend our judgment, and to speak
-of every thing with uncertainty; not to say _I am come_, but, _I think
-that I am come_.
-
-La Princesse d’Elide, though not one of Moliere’s happiest efforts,
-deserves notice on account of its contributing to the festivities of the
-court, by an adaptation of ingenious allegories to the manners and
-events of the time. This satire was aimed at the illusion of Judicial
-Astrology, after which many princes of the period were running mad; and
-in particular Victor Amadeus, Duke of Savoy, father of the Duchess of
-Burgundy, who kept an astrologer about his person even after his
-abdication. The dramatic antiquary may find some amusement in comparing
-the fêtes of the French court with the masques of Ben Jonson, Davenant,
-and others, exhibited before our James I. and Charles I.; but here the
-interest ends. It is sufficient to remark, that the masques of the
-English court owed their power of pleasing to the ingenuity of the
-machinist and the flattery of the poet. The little dramas performed
-before the royal family of France tickled the ears of the audience by
-the pungency of their wit and ridicule.
-
-The Miser has been pretty closely translated, for the version is little
-more, by Henry Fielding; but not so happily as he himself seems to have
-imagined.
-
-The subject of that excellent comedy, Les Femmes Savantes, in which the
-ridicule is kept within reasonable bounds, and female faults and virtues
-are painted with a proper gradation of colouring, where what the
-painters call a _medium tint_ harmonizes the extremes of light and
-shade, was taken up by Goldoni with that coarse and abrupt pencilling of
-black and white, which has always been the vice of the Italian stage. It
-has indeed been advanced as a reproach to Moliere, that he too often
-charged his comic pictures with the extravagance of caricature: but if
-we compare even the most farcical of his scenes with the speaking
-pantomimes and half-improvisations of Italy, we must pronounce him a
-model of delicacy and classical propriety.
-
-His last comedy was Le Malade Imaginaire. It was acted for the fourth
-time on the 17th February, 1673. The principal character represented is
-that of a sick man, who, to carry on a purpose of the plot, pretends to
-be dead. This part was played by Moliere himself. The popular story was,
-that when he was to discover that it was only a feint, he could neither
-speak nor get up, being actually dead. The wits and epigrammatists made
-the most of the occurrence; those who could not write good French,
-treated it with bad Latin. But unluckily for the stability of their
-conceits, they were not built on the foundation of truth. Though very
-ill, and obviously in much pain, he was able to finish the play. He went
-home, and was put to bed: his cough increased violently; a vessel burst
-in his lungs, and he was suffocated with blood in about half an hour
-after. He was only in his fifty-second year when this event took place.
-The King was extremely affected at this sudden loss, by which, as
-Johnson said of Garrick, the gaiety of nations was eclipsed; and as a
-strong mark of his regard, he prevailed with the archbishop of Paris to
-allow of his being interred in consecrated ground. Nothing short of so
-absolute a King’s interposition could have effected this; for,
-independently of the general sentence of excommunication then in force
-against scenic performers, Moliere had drawn upon himself the resentment
-of the ecclesiastics in particular, by exposing the hypocrites of their
-cloth, as well as the bigots among the laity. Those who ridicule folly
-and knavery in all orders of men must expect to be treated as Moliere
-was, and to have the foolish and knavish of all orders for enemies.
-During his life, Paris and the court were stirred up and inflamed
-against the dramatist; and on more than one occasion, he must have
-fallen a sacrifice to the indignation of the clergy, had he not been
-protected by the King. The friend of his life did not desert him when he
-was dead; but procured for his insensible remains that decent respect,
-which all nations have consented to pay, as a tribute even to
-themselves.
-
-Voltaire characterizes Moliere as the best comic poet of any nation; and
-treats the posthumous hostility which made a difficulty about his burial
-as a reproach both to France and to the Catholic religion. Professing to
-have reperused the comedians of antiquity for the purpose of comparison,
-he gives it as his judgment, that the French dramatist is entitled to
-the preference. He grounds this decision on the art and regularity of
-the modern theatre, contrasted with the unconnected scenes of the
-ancients, their weak intrigues, and the strange practice of declaring by
-the mouths of the actors, in cold and unnatural monologues, what they
-had done and what they intended to do. He concludes by saying that
-Moliere did for comedy what Corneille had done for tragedy; and that the
-French were superior on this ground to all the people upon earth. A
-country possessing such a comic drama as ours, throughout the course of
-about two centuries, with Much ado about Nothing at one end of the list,
-and The School for Scandal at the other, will be inclined to demur to
-this broad national assumption: but we, in our turn, must in candour
-confess, that though the chronological precedence of Shakspeare, Jonson,
-Fletcher, Massinger, and Ford, had established a glorious stage for us
-before Moliere was born, or while he was yet in petticoats; yet our most
-eminent comic writers in the reigns of William III., Anne, and George
-I., drank deep and often from the abundant source of French comedy. But
-Moliere’s influence was most beneficially exerted in reclaiming his
-countrymen from a fondness for such Italian conceits as ringing the
-changes upon _odours_ and _ardours_, &c., to which authors like Scudery,
-Voiture, and Balzac had given an ephemeral fashion. Boileau and Moliere
-principally contributed to arm the French against the invasion from
-beyond the Alps, of such madrigal-writers as Marini, Achillini, and
-Préti.
-
-It is not true that Moliere, when he commenced his career, found the
-theatre absolutely destitute of good comedies. Corneille had already
-produced Le Menteur, a piece combining character with intrigue, imported
-from the Spanish stage. Moliere had produced only two of his most
-esteemed plays, when the public was gratified with La Mère Coquette of
-Quinault, than which few pieces were more happy either in point of
-character or intrigue. But if Corneille be the first legitimate model
-for tragedy, Moliere was so for comedy. The general shaping of his
-plots, the connexion of his scenes, his dramatic consistency and
-propriety were attempted to be copied by succeeding writers: but who
-could compete with him in wit and spirit? His well-directed attacks did
-more than any thing to rescue the public from the impertinence of
-subaltern courtiers affecting airs of importance; from the affectation
-of conceited, and the pedantry of learned, ladies; from the quackery of
-professional costume and barbarous Latin on the part of the medical
-tribe. Moliere was the legislator of conventional proprieties. That
-period might well be called the Augustan age of France, which saw the
-tragedies of Corneille and Racine; the comedies of Moliere; the birth of
-modern music in the symphonies of Lulli; the pulpit eloquence of Bossuet
-and Bourdaloüe. Louis XIV. was the hearer and the patron of all these;
-and his taste was duly appreciated and adopted by the accomplished
-Madame, by a Condé, a Turenne, and a Colbert, followed by a long train
-of eminent men in every department of the state and of society.
-
-Little has come down to us respecting Moliere’s personal history or
-habits, excepting that his marriage was not among the happy or
-creditable events of his life. So little did he in his own case weigh
-the evils of disproportioned age, however sarcastically he might imagine
-them in fictitious scenes, that he took for his partner the daughter of
-La Béjard, the associate of his strolling career. If his choice were a
-fault, it carried its punishment along with it. He was very jealous, and
-the young lady was an accomplished coquette. The bickerings of married
-life were the frequent and successful topics of his comedies; and his
-enemies asserted, that in drawing such scenes, he possessed the
-advantage of painting from the life. Of that ridicule which had so often
-set the theatre in a roar, he was himself the serious subject, the
-repentant and writhing victim.
-
-Fuller accounts of Moliere are to be found prefixed to the best editions
-of his works: we may mention those of Joly, Petitot, and Auger. An
-article of considerable length, by the last-named author, is devoted to
-our poet in the Biographie Universelle.
-
-[Illustration: Scene from Les Précieuses Ridicules.]
-
-[Illustration:
-
-  _Engraved by I. W. Cook._
-
-  CHARLES JAMES FOX.
-
-  _From a Picture by Sir Joshua Reynolds in the possession of Lord
-    Holland._
-
-  Under the Superintendance of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful
-    Knowledge.
-
-  _London. Published by Charles Knight, Pall Mall East._
-]
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration]
-
-                                  FOX
-
-
-The Right Honourable Charles James Fox was third son of the Right
-Honourable Henry Fox, afterwards Lord Holland, and of Lady Georgina
-Caroline Fox, eldest daughter of Charles, second Duke of Richmond. He
-was born January 24th, 1749, N. S.
-
-Mr. Fox received his education at Eton; and the favourite studies of the
-place had more than ordinary influence over his tastes and literary
-pursuits in after-life. Before he left school, his father was so
-imprudent as to carry him to Paris and Spa. To his early associations at
-the latter place may be ascribed that propensity to gaming, which was
-the bane of two-thirds of his life. As the present article is not
-designed to be a mere panegyric, we abandon the indulgence of this fatal
-passion to the severest censure that can be bestowed upon it by the
-philosopher and the moralist: but justice demands it at our hands to
-say, that after the adjustment of Mr. Fox’s affairs by his friends,
-personal and political, he resolutely conquered what habit had almost
-raised into second nature, and abstained from play with scrupulous
-fidelity. It may further be remarked, that while the paroxysms of the
-fever were most violent, his mind was never interrupted from more worthy
-objects of pursuit.
-
-The following anecdote will show the divided empire which discordant
-passions alternately usurped over his heart. On a night when he had
-sustained some serious losses, his deportment assumed so much of the
-character of despair, that his friends became uneasy: they followed him
-at distance enough to elude his observation, from the clubhouse to his
-home in the neighbourhood. They knocked at his door in time, as they
-thought, to have prevented any rash act, and rushed into the library.
-There they found the object of their anxiety stretched on the ground
-without his coat, before the fire: his hand neither grasping a razor nor
-a pistol, but his eyes intently fixed on the pages of Herodotus. The old
-historian had engrossed him wholly from the moment when he took up the
-volume, and the ruins of his own air-built castles vanished from before
-him, as soon as he got sight of the venerable remains of the ancient
-world.
-
-At Oxford Mr. Fox distinguished himself by his powers of application, as
-well as by the intuitive quickness of his parts. On quitting the
-university, he accompanied his father and mother to the south of Europe.
-Not finding a good Italian master at Naples, he taught himself that
-language during the winter, and contracted a strong partiality for
-Italian literature. In a letter from Florence to Mr. Fitz-Patrick, he
-conjures that gentleman to learn Italian as fast as he can, if it were
-only to read Ariosto; and adds, “There is more good poetry in Italian
-than in all other languages I understand put together.” At a later
-period of life, if we may judge from the tenor of his correspondence
-with eminent scholars, he would have transferred that praise from the
-Italian to the Greek tongue. At this time he was very fond of acting
-plays, and was in all respects the man of fashion. Those who recollect
-the simplicity, bordering on negligence, of his outward garb late in
-life, will smile at the idea of Mr. Fox with a powdered toupee and red
-heels to his shoes, the hero of private theatricals. During his absence,
-in 1768, he was chosen to represent Midhurst, and made his first speech
-on the 15th April, 1769. According to Horace Walpole, he spoke with
-violence, but with infinite superiority of parts.
-
-Circumscribed as we are as to space, we shall not follow Mr. Fox’s
-subaltern career in the House of Commons. It was his breach with Lord
-North that raised him into a party leader. He had previously formed an
-intimate acquaintance with Mr. Burke. He began by receiving the lessons
-of that eminent person as a pupil; but the master was soon so convinced
-of his scholar’s greatness of character, and statesman-like turn of
-mind, that he resigned the lead to him, and became an efficient
-coadjutor in the Rockingham party, of which, in the House of Commons, he
-had almost been the dictator. The American war roused all the energies
-of Mr. Fox’s mind. The discussions to which it gave rise involved all
-the first principles of free government. The vicissitudes of the contest
-tried the firmness of the parliamentary opposition. Its duration
-exercised their perseverance. Its magnitude and the dangers of the
-country called forth their powers. Gibbon says, “Mr. Fox discovered
-powers for regular debate, which neither his friends hoped nor his
-enemies dreaded.” The following passage, from a letter to Mr.
-Fitz-Patrick, written in 1778, illustrates his honourable and
-independent character: “People flatter me that I continue to gain rather
-than lose estimation as an orator; and I am so convinced this is all I
-ever shall gain (unless I choose to be one of the meanest of men), that
-I never think of any other object of ambition. I am certainly ambitious
-by nature, but I have, or think I have, totally subdued that passion. I
-have still as much vanity as ever, which is a happier passion by far,
-because great reputation, I think, I may acquire and keep; great
-situations I never can acquire, nor, if acquired, keep, without making
-sacrifices that I will never make.” In the summer of 1778, he rejected
-Lord Weymouth’s overtures to join the ministry, and took his station as
-the leading commoner in the Rockingham party, to which he had become
-attached on principle long before he enlisted permanently in its ranks.
-The conspicuous features of that party, and of Mr. Fox’s public
-character, were the love of peace with foreign powers, the spirit of
-conciliation in home management, an ardent attachment to civil and
-religious liberty.
-
-The day of triumph came at last, when a resolution against the further
-prosecution of the American war was carried in the Commons. The King was
-compelled, reluctantly, to part with the supporters of his favourite
-principles, and had nothing left but to sow the seeds of disunion
-between the Rockingham and Chatham or Shelburne party, united on the
-subject of America, but disagreeing on many other points both of
-external and internal policy. In this he was but too successful. We have
-neither space nor inclination to unravel the web of court intrigue; but
-we may remark that Lord Rockingham’s demands were too extensive to be
-palatable: they involved the independence of America, the pacification
-of Ireland, bills for economical and parliamentary reform, to be brought
-into Parliament as ministerial measures. But the untimely death of Lord
-Rockingham frustrated his enlightened and enlarged designs, by
-dissolving the ministry over which he had presided. Mr. Fox has been
-blamed for the precipitancy of his resignation. The tone of sentiment in
-a letter before quoted will both account and apologise for the rashness
-if it were such; and it is obvious that the sacrifice of personal
-feeling, or even of political consistency, could not long have deferred
-it, amidst the cabals and clashing interests of party. Mr. Fox’s policy
-was to detach Holland and America from France, and to form a continental
-balance against the House of Bourbon. Lord Shelburne’s system was to
-conciliate France, and to treat her allies as dependent powers. Lord
-Shelburne had the ear of the King. He strengthened himself with some of
-the old supporters of the American war, to fill the vacant offices, and
-made Mr. Pitt, just rising into eminence, his Chancellor of the
-Exchequer. There were now three parties in the Commons; the ministerial,
-the Whig or Rockingham, and the third consisting of those members of the
-late war ministry who had not been invited to join the present. A
-coalition of some two of these three parties was almost unavoidable: the
-public would have most approved of a reunion among the Whigs; but there
-had been too much of mutual recrimination and dispute to admit of
-reconciliation. Nothing, therefore, remained but a junction of the two
-parties in opposition. A judicious friend of Mr. Fox said, “that to
-undertake the government with Lord North, was to risk their credit on
-very unsafe grounds. Unless a real good government is the consequence of
-this junction, nothing can justify it to the public.” Popular feeling
-was strongly against this coalition, mainly on account of some personal
-acrimony vented by Mr. Fox, in the boiling over of his wrath during the
-American contest, which seemed to bear upon the moral character of his
-opponent. It is to be considered, however, that the most amiable
-persons, if enthusiastic, are apt in the heat of passion to launch out
-into invective far more violent than their natural benevolence would
-justify in their cooler moments. The question on which Mr. Fox and Lord
-North had been so acrimoniously opposed, had ceased to exist: and
-perhaps there existed no solid reason against the union of the two
-parties. But the measure was almost universally believed to arise from
-corrupt motives: it afforded a fine scope for satire and caricature; and
-these have no small influence upon the politics of the multitude. And
-while the people were displeased, the King was decidedly unfriendly to
-the administration which had forced itself upon him. He considered the
-Rockingham party as enemies to his prerogative, as well as friends to
-American independence. He was forced to take them in, but resolved to
-throw them out again. The unpopular India bill, which Mr. Pitt
-afterwards adopted with some modifications, furnished the opportunity.
-The offence taken by the people against the coalition, made them lend a
-ready ear to the charge of ministerial oligarchy: the King disguised his
-sentiments till the last moment, procured the rejection of the bill in
-the Lords, and instantly dismissed his ministers.
-
-The coalition was still in possession of the House of Commons; but the
-voice of the people supported the minister, a dissolution was resorted
-to, and the will of the King was accomplished.
-
-From 1784 to 1792, Mr. Fox was leader of a powerful party in the House
-of Commons, in opposition to Mr. Pitt. The Westminster Scrutiny, the
-Regency, the abatement of Impeachments by a dissolution of Parliament,
-the Libel Bill, the Russian Armament, and the Repeal of the Corporation
-and Test Acts, were the topics which called forth his most powerful
-exertions. His force as a professed orator was conspicuously displayed
-in Westminster Hall, on the trial of Warren Hastings; but the triumph of
-his talents is to be found in those masterly replies to his antagonists,
-in which cutting sarcasm and close argument, logical acuteness and
-metaphysical subtlety were so combined, as to surpass all that modern
-experience had witnessed. The constitutional doctrines of Mr. Fox on the
-Regency question were much canvassed, and, by many, severely censured.
-The fact was, that the case was new; provided for neither by law,
-precedent, nor analogy. Lord Loughborough first suggested the Prince’s
-claim of right; and it was hastily adopted by Mr. Fox, who had returned
-from Italy just as the discussion was pending. Mr. Fox’s Libel Bill
-places him among the most constitutional of our legislators. He saved
-his country from an unnecessary, unjust, and expensive war, by his
-exertions on occasion of the Russian Armament.
-
-The controversy on the Test and Corporation Acts has lost its interest,
-from having since been satisfactorily set at rest. But as, in a sketch
-like the present, we have more to do with the character of Mr. Fox’s
-mind than with his political history, we will here introduce an anecdote
-which the writer of this life heard related many years ago, by Dr.
-Abraham Rees, well known both in the scientific world, and as a leading
-divine in the dissenting interest. We have already spoken of the
-intuitive quickness of Mr. Fox’s parts; and the following anecdote will
-set that peculiarity in a strong light.
-
-On the day of the debate, Dr. Rees waited on Mr. Fox with a deputation,
-to engage his support in their cause. He received them courteously; but,
-though a friend to religious liberty, was evidently unacquainted with
-the strong points and principal bearings of their peculiar case. He
-listened attentively to their exposition, and, with an eye that looked
-them _through and through_, put four or five searching questions. They
-withdrew after a short conference, and as they walked up St. James’s
-Street, Mr. Fox passed them booted, as going to take air and exercise,
-to enable him to encounter the heat of the House and the storm of
-debate. From the gallery they saw him enter the House with whip in hand,
-as just dismounted. When he rose to speak, he displayed such mastery of
-his subject, his arguments and illustrations were so various, his views
-so profound and statesman-like, that a stranger must have imagined the
-question at issue between the high church party and the dissenters to
-have been the main subject of his study throughout life. That his
-principles of civil and religious liberty should have enabled him to
-declaim in splendid generalities was to be expected; but he entered as
-fully and deeply into the fundamental principles and most subtle
-distinctions of the question, as did those to whom it was of vital
-importance, and that after a short conference of some twenty minutes.
-
-The French revolution is a topic of such magnitude, that we can only
-touch upon Mr. Fox’s opinions and conduct with respect to it. After the
-taking of the Bastille, he describes it as “the greatest, and much the
-best event that ever happened in the world: all my prepossessions
-against French connections for this country will be at an end, and
-indeed most part of my European system of politics will be altered, if
-this revolution has the consequence that I expect.” But it had not that
-consequence; and his views were completely changed by the trial and
-execution of the King and Queen of France. But because he did not catch
-that contagious disease, made up of alarm and desperate violence, which
-involved his country in a disastrous war, he was represented as the
-blind apologist of injustice and massacre, as the careless, if not
-jacobinical spectator of the downfall of monarchy. Mr. Burke was the
-first to quarrel with Mr. Fox, and this quarrel led to the temporary
-estrangement from him of many of his oldest and most valuable friends.
-But “time and the hour” restored the good understanding between the
-members of the party, with the exception of Mr. Burke, who died while
-the paroxysm of Antigallican mania was at its height.
-
-Mr. Fox opposed to the utmost the war, into which the minister was
-unwillingly forced. But as his passions became heated, and the
-difficulties of his situation increased, Mr. Pitt adopted all Mr.
-Burke’s views, and the rash project of a _bellum internecinum_. Both the
-public principles and the personal character of Mr. Fox were the subject
-of daily calumnies; and the warmth of his early testimony in favour of
-the French revolution was continually thrown in his teeth, after the
-10th of August, the massacres of September, and the success of
-Dumourier. But his whole conduct during this struggle was clear and
-consistent. At the dawn of the revolution, he felt and spoke as a
-citizen of the world; but he was the last man alive to have merged
-patriotism in the vague generalities of universal benevolence. When his
-own country became implicated in the strife, he no longer felt and spoke
-as a citizen of the world, but as a British statesman; and endeavoured
-to persuade his countrymen, not for French interests but for their own,
-to stand aloof from continental politics, relying, for the maintenance
-of a proud independence and dignified neutrality, on their insular
-situation and their wooden walls. His advice was not listened to, and
-his mind grew indisposed towards public business. He says in a letter,
-dated April, 1795, “I am perfectly happy in the country. I have quite
-resources enough to employ my mind, and the great resource of literature
-I am fonder of every day.” After making a vigorous, but unsuccessful
-opposition to the Treason and Sedition bills, he and his remaining
-friends seceded from parliament. He passed the years from 1797 to 1802,
-principally in retirement at St. Ann’s Hill; and they were the happiest
-of his life. His mornings passed in gardening and farming, his evenings
-over books and in conversation with his family and friends. During this
-period, his attention was much given to the Greek Tragedies and to
-Homer, whom he read not only with the ardent mind of a poet, but with
-the microscopic eye of a critic. His correspondence with an eminent
-scholar of the time was full of sagacious remarks on the suggestions and
-explanations of the commentators, as well as on the text of the poem. At
-this time also he conceived the plan of that history of which he left
-only a splendid fragment in a state fit for publication. He had been
-diligent in collecting materials, and scrupulous in verifying them. His
-partiality for the Greek classics followed him into this pursuit, and
-probably retarded his progress. He is considered to have taken for his
-model Thucydides, a writer strictly impartial in his narrative, grave
-even to severity in his style. He went to Paris with Mrs. Fox in the
-summer of 1802, partly to satisfy their mutual curiosity after so long
-an estrangement from the Continent, but principally for the purpose of
-examining the copious materials for the reign of James II. deposited in
-the Scotch college there. Every thing was thrown open to him in the most
-liberal manner, and, as the unflinching friend of peace through good and
-evil report, he was received with enthusiasm both by the people and the
-government. He had several interviews with Buonaparte: the chief topics
-of their conversation were the concordat, the trial by jury, the
-freedom, amounting in the opinion of the First Consul to licentiousness,
-of the English press, the difference between Asiatic and European
-society. On one occasion he indignantly repelled the charge against Mr.
-Windham, of being accessory to the plot of the _infernal machine_,
-alleging the utter impossibility of an English gentleman descending to
-so disgraceful a device. During his stay in France, he visited La
-Fayette at his country seat of La Grange.
-
-Our limits will not allow us to enter, ever so cursorily, into his
-political career after the renewal of the war. His advice was wise, and
-consistent with himself; but it was not accepted. The King’s dislike of
-him was not to be overcome. The death of Mr. Pitt, however, made the
-admission of Mr. Fox and the Whigs, in conjunction with Lord Grenville,
-a matter of necessity. Mr. Fox’s desire of peace induced him to take the
-office of Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs; and, before his fatal
-illness, he had begun a negotiation for that main object of his whole
-life, with every apparent prospect of success. The hopes entertained
-from his accession to power were prematurely cut off; but his short
-career in office was honourably marked by the ministerial measure,
-determined on during his life, and carried after his decease, of the
-abolition of the Slave Trade.
-
-The complaint of which he died was dropsy, occasioned probably by the
-duties of office, and the fatigue of constant attendance in the House of
-Commons, after the comparative seclusion and learned ease in which he
-had lived for several years. He expired on the 13th of September, 1806,
-with his senses perfect and his understanding unclouded to the last.
-
-We conclude this brief account of Mr. Fox with the character drawn of
-him by one who knew him well, and was fully qualified to appreciate
-him,—Sir James Macintosh.
-
-“Mr. Fox united, in a most remarkable degree, the seemingly repugnant
-characters of the mildest of men and the most vehement of orators. In
-private life he was gentle, modest, placable, kind, of simple manners,
-and so averse from dogmatism, as to be not only unostentatious, but even
-something inactive in conversation. His superiority was never felt but
-in the instruction which he imparted, or in the attention which his
-generous preference usually directed to the more obscure members of the
-company. The simplicity of his manners was far from excluding that
-perfect urbanity and amenity which flowed still more from the mildness
-of his nature, than from familiar intercourse with the most polished
-society of Europe. The pleasantry perhaps of no man of wit had so
-unlaboured an appearance. It seemed rather to escape from his mind, than
-to be produced by it. He had lived on the most intimate terms with all
-his contemporaries distinguished by wit, politeness, or philosophy; by
-learning, or the talents of public life. In the course of thirty years
-he had known almost every man in Europe, whose intercourse could
-strengthen, or enrich, or polish the mind. His own literature was
-various and elegant. In classical erudition, which by the custom of
-England is more peculiarly called learning, he was inferior to few
-professed scholars. Like all men of genius, he delighted to take refuge
-in poetry, from the vulgarity and irritation of business. His own verses
-were easy and pleasant, and might have claimed no low place among those
-which the French call _vers de société_. The poetical character of his
-mind was displayed by his extraordinary partiality for the poetry of the
-two most poetical nations, or at least languages of the west, those of
-the Greeks and of the Italians. He disliked political conversation, and
-never willingly took any part in it.
-
-“To speak of him justly as an orator, would require a long essay. Every
-where natural, he carried into public something of that simple and
-negligent exterior which belonged to him in private. When he began to
-speak, a common observer might have thought him awkward; and even a
-consummate judge could only have been struck with the exquisite justness
-of his ideas, and the transparent simplicity of his manners. But no
-sooner had he spoken for some time, than he was changed into another
-being. He forgot himself and every thing around him. He thought only of
-his subject. His genius warmed and kindled as he went on. He darted fire
-into his audience. Torrents of impetuous and irresistible eloquence
-swept along their feelings and conviction. He certainly possessed above
-all moderns that union of reason, simplicity, and vehemence, which
-formed the prince of orators. He was the most Demosthenean speaker since
-the days of Demosthenes. ‘I knew him,’ says Mr. Burke, in a pamphlet
-written after their unhappy difference, ‘when he was nineteen; since
-which time he has risen, by slow degrees, to be the most brilliant and
-accomplished debater the world ever saw.’
-
-“The quiet dignity of a mind roused only by great objects, the absence
-of petty bustle, the contempt of show, the abhorrence of intrigue, the
-plainness and downrightness, and the thorough good nature which
-distinguished Mr. Fox, seem to render him no unfit representative of the
-old English character, which if it ever changed, we should be sanguine
-indeed to expect to see it succeeded by a better. The simplicity of his
-character inspired confidence, the ardour of his eloquence roused
-enthusiasm, and the gentleness of his manners invited friendship. ‘I
-admired,’ says Mr. Gibbon, after describing a day passed with him at
-Lausanne, ‘the powers of a superior man, as they are blended, in his
-attractive character, with all the softness and simplicity of a child:
-no human being was ever more free from any taint of malignity, vanity,
-or falsehood.’
-
-“The measures which he supported or opposed may divide the opinion of
-posterity, as they have divided those of the present age. But he will
-most certainly command the unanimous reverence of future generations, by
-his pure sentiments towards the commonwealth; by his zeal for the civil
-and religious rights of all men; by his liberal principles, favourable
-to mild government, to the unfettered exercise of the human faculties,
-and the progressive civilization of mankind; by his ardent love for a
-country, of which the well-being and greatness were, indeed, inseparable
-from his own glory; and by his profound reverence for that free
-constitution which he was universally admitted to understand better than
-any other man of his age, both in an exactly legal and in a
-comprehensively philosophical sense.”
-
-[Illustration]
-
-[Illustration:
-
-  _Engraved by R. Woodman._
-
-  BOSSUET.
-
-  _From the original Picture by H. Rigaud, in the Collection of the
-    Institute of France._
-
-  Under the Superintendance of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful
-    Knowledge.
-
-  _London. Published by Charles Knight, Pall Mall East._
-]
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration]
-
-                                BOSSUET
-
-
-The life of the Bishop of Meaux, a theologian and polemic familiarly
-known to his countrymen as the oracle of their church, forms an
-important part of the ecclesiastical history of the seventeenth century.
-A short personal memoir of such a man can serve only to excite
-curiosity, and in some measure to direct more extended inquiries.
-
-Jacques-Benigne Bossuet, whose father and ancestors were honourably
-distinguished in the profession of the law, was born at Dijon, September
-27, 1627. He was placed in his childhood at the college of the Jesuits
-in his native town; whence, at the age of fifteen, he was removed to the
-college of Navarre in Paris. At both these places his progress as a
-student was so rapid that he passed for a prodigy. It may be mentioned,
-not more as a proof of precocious intellect than as characteristic of
-the times, that soon after his removal to Paris, whither the fame of his
-genius had preceded him, he was invited to exhibit his powers as a
-preacher at the Hotel de Rambouillet in his sixteenth year. His
-performance was received with great approbation.
-
-In the year 1652 he was ordained priest, and, his talents having already
-made him known, he soon after received preferment in the cathedral
-church of Metz, of which he became successively canon, archdeacon, and
-dean. It was here that he published his Refutation of the Catechism of
-Paul Ferri, a protestant divine of high reputation. This was the first
-of that series of controversial writings which contributed, more than
-all his other works, to procure for him the high authority which he
-enjoyed in the church. He came forward in the field of controversy at a
-time when public attention was fixed on the subject, and when the
-favourite object both with Church and State was the peaceable conversion
-of the Protestants.
-
-Richelieu in the preceding reign had crushed, by the vigour of his
-administration, the political power of the Protestant party. He, in
-common with many other statesmen, Catholic and Protestant, had conceived
-a notion that uniformity of religious profession was necessary to the
-tranquillity of the state. But, though unchecked in the prosecution of
-his objects by any scruples of conscience or feelings of humanity, he
-would have considered the employment of force, where persuasion could be
-effectual, to be, in the language of a modern politician, not a crime
-but a blunder. When therefore the army had done its work, he put in
-action a scheme for reclaiming the Protestants by every species of
-politic contrivance. The system commenced by him was continued by
-others; and of all those who laboured in the cause, Bossuet was
-indubitably the most able and the most distinguished.
-
-His first effort, the Refutation of the Catechism, recommended him to
-the notice of the Queen-Mother; and the favour which he now enjoyed at
-court was further increased by the fame of his eloquence in the pulpit,
-which he had frequent opportunities of displaying at Paris, whither he
-was called from time to time by ecclesiastical business. He was summoned
-to preach at the chapel of the Louvre before Louis XIV., who was pleased
-to express, in a letter to Bossuet’s father, the great delight which he
-received from the sermons of his son; for the versatile taste of the
-great monarch enabled him in one hour to recreate himself with the wit
-and beauty of his mistresses, and in the next to listen with
-undiminished pleasure to the exhortations of a Christian pastor. But
-Bossuet had still stronger claims on the gratitude of Louis by
-converting to the Roman Catholic faith the celebrated Turenne. This
-victory is said to have been achieved by his well-known Exposition,
-written in the year 1668, and published in 1671.
-
-So great was his influence at this time, that he was requested by the
-Archbishop of Paris to interfere in one of those many disputes which the
-Papal decrees against the tenets of Jansenius occasioned. The nuns of
-Port-Royal, who were attached to the doctrine and discipline of the
-Jansenists, were required to subscribe the celebrated Formulary, which
-selected for condemnation five propositions said to be contained in a
-certain huge work of Jansenius. Those excellent women modestly
-submitted, that they were ready to accept any doctrine propounded by the
-Church, and even to affix their names to the condemnation of the
-obnoxious propositions; but that they could not assert that these
-propositions were to be found in a book which they had never seen. In
-this difficulty the assistance of Bossuet was requested, who, after
-several conferences, wrote a long letter to the refractory nuns, highly
-commended for its acute logic and sound divinity. Much of the logic and
-divinity was probably thrown away upon the persons for whose use they
-were intended; but there was one part of the letter sufficiently
-intelligible. He congratulated them on their total exemption from all
-obligation to examine, and from the task of self-guidance; and assured
-them that it was their bounden duty, as well as their happy privilege,
-to subscribe and assent to every thing which was placed before them by
-authority. The nuns were not convinced. They escaped however for the
-present; but in the end they paid dearly for their passive resistance to
-the decision of Pope Alexander VII. on a matter of fact.
-
-In the year 1669, Bossuet was promoted to the bishopric of Condom, which
-he resigned the following year on being appointed to the important
-office of Preceptor to the Dauphin.
-
-History has told us nothing of the pupil, but that his capacity was
-mean, and his disposition sordid. To him, however, the world is indebted
-for the most celebrated of Bossuet’s performances. The Introduction to
-Universal History was written expressly for his use; and this masterly
-work may serve to confirm an opinion, entertained even by his friends,
-that Bossuet was not peculiarly qualified for his situation. To compose
-such a work for such a boy was worse than a waste of power.
-
-Though devoted closely and conscientiously to the duties of his new
-office, he was not altogether withdrawn from what might be called his
-vocation, the prosecution of controversy. It was during the period of
-his connexion with the Court, that his celebrated conference occurred
-with the Protestant Claude. Mlle. de Duras, a niece of Turenne, had
-conceived scruples respecting the soundness of her Protestant
-principles, from the perusal of Bossuet’s ‘Exposition.’ She consulted M.
-Claude, who promised to resolve her doubts in the presence of Bossuet
-himself. The challenge was accepted, and the memorable conference was
-the result. Both parties published an account of it; and their
-statements, as might be expected without suspicion of dishonesty on
-either side, did not entirely agree. The lady was content to follow the
-example of her uncle.
-
-Bossuet’s engagement with the Dauphin was concluded in the year 1681,
-when he was rewarded with the bishopric of Meaux. In so short a memoir
-of such a man, where only the most prominent occurrences of his life can
-be noticed, there is danger lest the reader should regard him only in
-the character of a controversialist, or in the proud station of
-acknowledged leader of the Church. It is the more necessary, therefore,
-in this place to observe, that, to the comparatively obscure but really
-important duties of his diocese, he brought the same zeal and energy
-which he displayed on a more conspicuous theatre; and that he could
-readily exchange the pen of the polemic for that of the devout and
-affectionate pastor.
-
-Louis, however, was not disposed to leave the Bishop undisturbed in his
-retirement. He was soon called forth to be the advocate of his temporal
-against his spiritual master.
-
-The Kings of France had long exercised certain powers in ecclesiastical
-matters, which had rather been tolerated than sanctioned by the Popes.
-Louis was determined not only to preserve, but considerably to extend,
-what his predecessors had enjoyed. Hence a sharp altercation was carried
-on for many years between him and the See of Rome. But, in 1682, in
-consequence of a threatening brief issued by that haughty pontiff,
-Innocent XII., he summoned, by the advice of his clergy, for the purpose
-of settling the matters in debate, a general Assembly of the Church. Of
-this famous Assembly Bossuet was deservedly regarded as the most
-influential member. He opened the proceedings with a sermon, having
-reference to the subjects which were to come under consideration. In
-this discourse the reader may find, perhaps, some marks of that
-embarrassment which he is supposed to have felt. He had the deepest
-sense of the unbounded power and awful majesty of kings in general, and
-the highest personal veneration for Louis in particular; but then, on
-the other hand, the degree of allegiance which he owed to his spiritual
-head it was almost impiety to define. So, after having illustrated, with
-all the force of his eloquence, the inviolable dignity of the Church,
-and fully established the supremacy of St. Peter, he carries up, as it
-were in a parallel line, the loftiest panegyric on the monarchy and
-monarchs of France.
-
-The discourse was celebrated for its ability, and without doubt the
-conflicting topics were managed with great skill. His difficulties did
-not cease with the dismissal of the Assembly. The question of the
-Régale, or the right of the King to the revenues of every vacant see,
-and to collate to the simple benefices within its jurisdiction, was
-settled not at all to the satisfaction of the Pope; and the declaration
-of the Assembly, drawn up by Bossuet himself, was fiercely attacked by
-the Transalpine divines. It was, of course, as vigorously defended by
-its author, who was in consequence accused by all his enemies, and some
-of his friends, of having forgotten his duty to the Pope in his
-subserviency to the King.
-
-Nothing wearied by his exertions in the royal cause, he had scarcely
-left the Assembly, when he resumed his labours in defence of the Church
-against heresy. Several smaller works, put forth from time to time,
-seemed to be only a preparation for his great effort in the year 1688,
-when he published his ‘History of the Variations in the Protestant
-Churches.’ In this book he has made the most of what may be called the
-staple argument of the Catholics against the Protestants.
-
-The course of the narrative has now brought us beyond the period of the
-memorable revocation of the Edict of Nantes; and it will naturally be
-asked, in what light Bossuet regarded this act of folly and oppression.
-Neither his disposition nor his judgment would lead him to approve the
-atrocities perpetrated by the government; but, in a letter to the
-Intendant of Languedoc, he labours to justify the use of pains and
-penalties in enforcing religious conformity; that is, he justifies the
-act of Louis XIV. In this matter he was not advanced beyond his times;
-but, whatever may have been his theory of the lawfulness of persecution,
-his conduct towards the Protestants was such as to obtain for him the
-praise even of his opponents.
-
-Hitherto we have seen Bossuet labouring incessantly to reconcile the
-Huguenots of France to the established religion. But, about this time,
-he took part in a more grand and comprehensive measure, sanctioned by
-the Emperor, and some other sovereign princes of Germany, for the
-reunion of the great body of the Lutherans throughout Europe with the
-Roman Catholic Church. They engaged the Bishop of Neustadt to open a
-communication with Molanus, a Protestant doctor of high reputation in
-Hanover. With these negotiators were afterwards joined Leibnitz on the
-part of the Protestants, and Bossuet on that of the Roman Catholics.
-Between these two great men the correspondence was carried on for ten
-years, in a spirit worthy of themselves and the cause in which they were
-engaged; and it terminated, as probably they both expected that it would
-terminate, in leaving the two Churches in the same state of separation
-in which it found them.
-
-It would have been well for the fame of Bossuet if the course of his
-latter days had been marked only by this defeat,—if it had not been
-signalized, when grey hairs had increased the veneration which his
-genius and services had procured him, by an inglorious victory over a
-weak woman, and a friend. The history of Madame Guyon, and the revival
-of mysticism under the name of Quietism, principally by her means, will
-more properly be found in a Life of Fenelon. The part which Bossuet took
-in the proceedings respecting her must be here very briefly noticed. As
-universal referee in matters of religion, he was called upon to examine
-her doctrines, which began to excite the jealousy of the Church. His
-conduct towards her, in the first instance, was mild and forbearing; but
-either zeal or anger betrayed him at length into a cruel persecution of
-this amiable visionary. Fenelon, who had partly adopted her views of
-Christian perfection, and thoroughly admired her Christian character,
-was required by Bossuet to surrender to him at once his opinions and his
-feelings. Fenelon was willing to do much, but would not consent to
-sacrifice his integrity to the offended pride of the irritated prelate.
-He defended his opinions in print, and the points in debate were, by his
-desire, referred to the Pope; and to him they should in common decency
-have been left: but we are disgusted with a detail of miserable
-intrigues, carried on in the council appointed by the Pope to examine
-the matter, and of vehement remonstrances with which his holiness
-himself was assailed, with the avowed object of extorting a reluctant
-condemnation. The warmest friends of Bossuet do not attempt to defend
-him on the plea that these things were done without his concurrence;
-they insist only on his disinterested zeal for religion. But let it be
-remembered, that this interference with Papal deliberation proceeded
-from one who believed the Vicar of Christ to be solemnly deciding, with
-the aid of the Holy Spirit, a point of faith for the benefit of the
-whole Catholic Church. Bossuet triumphed; and from that moment sunk
-perceptibly in the general esteem of his countrymen.
-
-During the few remaining years of his life he maintained his wonted
-activity, and in his last illness we find with pleasure that the Bible
-was his companion, and that he could employ his intervals of repose from
-severe suffering in composing a commentary on the 23d psalm. He died
-April 12, 1704, in his 76th year.
-
-The authority which Bossuet acquired was such, that he may be said not
-only to have guided the Gallican Church during his life, but in some
-measure to have left upon it the permanent impression of his own
-character. Of this authority no adequate notion can be formed from the
-preceding sketch. Few even of his works, which fill twenty volumes
-quarto, have been noticed. It should, however, be mentioned that he was
-employed by Louis XIV. in an attempt to overcome the religious scruples
-of James II., whose conscience revolted from that exercise of the
-prerogative in favour of the Protestant Church, which his restoration to
-the throne would have required. The laboured and somewhat extraordinary
-letter which Bossuet wrote on this occasion is dated May 22, 1693.
-
-His countrymen claim for Bossuet an exalted place among historians,
-orators, and theologians. The honours bestowed by them on his
-‘Introduction to Universal History’ have been continued by more
-impartial judges; and, even when unsupported by reference to the age in
-which it was written, it stands forth on its own merits as a noble
-effort of a comprehensive and penetrating mind. His Funeral Orations
-come to us recommended by the judgment of Voltaire, who ascribes to
-Bossuet alone, of all his contemporaries, the praise of real eloquence.
-The English reader will often be rewarded by passages, which in
-oratorical power have seldom been surpassed, and which may induce him to
-forgive much that is cold, inflated, and unnatural. But the Orations
-must be considered also as Christian discourses delivered by a minister
-of the Gospel from a Christian pulpit. They were composed, for the most
-part, to grace the obsequies of royal persons, and are, in fact,
-dedicated to the honour and glory of kings and princes. A text from
-Scripture is the peg on which is hung every thing which can minister to
-human pride, and dignify the vanities of a court; and the effect is but
-slightly impaired by well-turned phrases, proper to the occasion, on the
-nothingness of earthly things. But the orator is not content with
-general declamation, with prostrating himself before his magnificent
-visions of ancient pedigrees;—he descends to the meanest personal
-flattery of the living and the dead. When the Duchess of Orleans was
-laid in her coffin, her friends might hope that her frailties would be
-buried with her; but they could hardly expect that a Christian monitor
-should hold her forth as an exquisite specimen of female excellence, the
-glory of France, whom Heaven itself had rescued from her enemies to
-present as a precious and inestimable gift to the French nation. But on
-this occasion Bossuet was not yet perfect in his art, or the subject was
-not sufficiently disgraceful to draw forth all his powers. When
-afterwards called to speak over the dead body of the Queen, whose heart
-had withered under the wrongs which a licentious husband, amidst
-external respect, had heaped upon her, he finds it a fitting opportunity
-to pronounce at the same time a panegyric on the King. He recounts the
-victories won by the French arms, and ascribes them all to the prowess
-of his hero. But Louis is not only the taker of cities, he is the
-conqueror of himself; and the royal sensualist is praised for the
-government of his passions, the despot for his clemency and justice, and
-the grasping conqueror for his moderation.
-
-The controversial writings of Bossuet deserve more regard than either
-his History or his Orations, if the importance of a book is to be
-measured by the extent and permanency of its effects. The Exposition of
-the Doctrines of the Roman Catholic Church, one of the shortest, but
-perhaps the most notable, of his theological works, was published under
-circumstances which gave occasion to a story of mysterious suppression
-and alteration. But a more serious charge has been brought against the
-author, of having deliberately misrepresented the doctrines of his
-Church, in order to entrap the Protestants. So grave an accusation ought
-not to be lightly entertained; and though suspicion is excited by
-symptoms of disingenuous management in the controversy, to which the
-publication gave birth; and though it appears to be demonstrable that
-the Roman Catholic religion, as commonly professed, and that many of its
-doctrines, as expressed or implied in some of its authorised
-formularies, differ essentially from the picture which Bossuet has
-drawn, yet it should at least be remembered that the book itself was
-eventually, though tardily, sanctioned by the highest authority in the
-Church. It is possible that Bossuet may by his Exposition have converted
-many beside Turenne; but there can be no doubt that he has wrought an
-extensive, though a less obvious, change within the bosom of his own
-Church. The high authority of his name would give currency to his
-opinions on any subject connected with religion; and many sincere Roman
-Catholics, who had felt the objections urged against certain practices
-and dogmas of their own Church, would rejoice to find, on the authority
-of Bossuet, that they were not obliged to own them.
-
-The charge of insincerity has been extended beyond the particular
-instance to the general character of the Bishop; and it has been
-asserted that he held, in secret, opinions inconsistent with those which
-he publicly professed. This charge, which is destitute of all proof,
-seems to have been the joint invention of over-zealous Protestants and
-pretended philosophers.
-
-Enough has been shown to justify us in supposing that he was not one of
-those rare characters which can break loose from all the obstacles that
-oppose themselves to the simple love and uncompromising search of truth.
-Some men, like his illustrious countryman Du Pin, struggle to be free.
-It should seem that Bossuet, if circumstances fettered him, would not be
-conscious of his thraldom; that he would exert all the energies of his
-powerful mind, not to escape from his prison, but to render it a tenable
-fortress, or a commodious dwelling. It would be foolish and unjust to
-infer from this that he would persevere through life in deliberately
-maintaining what he had discovered to be false, on the most momentous of
-all subjects.
-
-A complete catalogue of his works may be found at the end of the Life of
-Bossuet in the Biographie Universelle. The Life itself, which is
-obviously written by a partial friend, contains much information in a
-small compass. The affair of Quietism, and the contest between Bossuet
-and Fenelon, are minutely detailed with great accuracy in the Life of
-Fenelon by the Cardinal de Bausset, whose impartiality seems to have
-been secured by the profound veneration which he entertained for each of
-the combatants, though the impression left on the reader’s mind is not
-favourable to the character of Bossuet.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration: LORENZO DE MEDICI.]
-
-                           LORENZO DE MEDICI.
-
-
-Among the genealogists who wasted their ingenuity to fabricate an
-imposing pedigree for Lorenzo de Medici, some pretended to derive his
-origin from the paladins of Charlemagne, and others to trace it to the
-eleventh century. But it is well ascertained that his ancestors only
-emerged from the inferior orders of the people of Florence in the course
-of the fourteenth century, when, by engaging in great commercial
-speculations, and by signalizing themselves as partisans of the populace
-of that republic, they speedily acquired considerable wealth and
-political importance.
-
-Giovanni di Bicci, his great grandfather, may be regarded as the first
-illustrious personage of the family, and as the author of that crafty
-system of policy, mainly founded on affability and liberality, by which
-his posterity sprung rapidly to overwhelming greatness. By an assiduous
-application to trade he made vast additions to his paternal inheritance;
-by flattering the passions of the lowest classes he obtained the highest
-dignities in the state. He died in 1428, deeply regretted by his party,
-and leaving two sons, Cosmo and Lorenzo, from the latter of whom
-descended the Grand Dukes of Tuscany.
-
-Cosmo was nearly forty when he succeeded to the riches and popularity of
-his father; and he had not only conducted for several years a commercial
-establishment which held counting-houses in all the principal cities of
-Europe and in the Levant, but had also participated in the weightier
-concerns of government. The form of the Florentine constitution was then
-democratical: the nobility had been long excluded from the
-administration of the republic; and the citizens, though divided into
-twenty-one guilds, or corporations of arts and trades, from seven of
-which alone the magistracy were chosen, had, however, an equal share in
-the nomination of the magistrates, who were changed every two months.
-The lower corporations, owing principally to the manœuvres of Salvestro
-de Medici, had risen in 1378 against the higher, demanding a still more
-complete equality, and had taken the direction of the commonwealth into
-their own hands; but after having raised a carder of wool to the supreme
-power, and involved themselves in the evils of anarchy, convinced at
-last of their own incapacity, they had again submitted to the wiser
-guidance of that kind of burgher-aristocracy which they had subverted;
-and that party, headed by the Albizzi and some other families of
-distinction, had, ever since 1382, governed the state with unexampled
-happiness and glory. The republic had been aggrandized by the important
-acquisition of Leghorn, Pisa, Arezzo, and other Tuscan cities; its
-agriculture was in the most prosperous condition; its commerce had
-received a prodigious developement; its decided superiority in the
-cultivation of literature, the sciences, and the arts, had placed it
-foremost in the career of European civilization; and its generous but
-wise external policy had constituted it as the guardian of the liberties
-of Italy.
-
-[Illustration:
-
-  _Engraved by C. E. Wagstaff._
-
-  LORENZO DE MEDICI.
-
-  _From a Print by Raffaelle Morghen, after a Picture by G. Vasari._
-
-  Under the Superintendance of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful
-    Knowledge.
-
-  _London. Published by Charles Knight, Pall Mall East._
-]
-
-To this beneficent administration the aspiring Cosmo had long offered a
-troublesome opposition; and he now succeeded in ensnaring it into a
-ruinous war with Lucca, by which he obtained the double object of
-destroying its popularity, and of employing considerable sums of money
-with unusual profit. But the reverses of the republic were attributed to
-a treasonable correspondence between him and the enemy, and in 1433 he
-was seized and condemned to ten years’ banishment, having averted
-capital punishment by a timely bribe. The absence of a citizen who spent
-more than a great king in acts of piety, benevolence, and liberality,
-was, however, severely felt in the small city of Florence, and the
-intelligence of the honours he received everywhere in his exile raised
-him still more in public estimation. The number of his friends
-increased, indeed, so rapidly, that at the September elections in the
-following year they completely defeated the ruling party, and chose a
-set of magistrates by whom he was immediately recalled. This event,
-erroneously considered as a victory of the people over an aristocracy,
-was, properly speaking, a triumph of the populace over the more educated
-classes of the community, and it proved fatal to the republic. Placed by
-fame, wealth, and talent, at an immeasurable elevation above the obscure
-materials of his faction, from the moment of his return to that of his
-death, August, 1464, Cosmo exercised such an influence in the state,
-that, though he seldom filled any ostensible office, he governed it with
-absolute authority by means of persons wholly subservient to his will.
-But, under the pretence of maintaining peace and tranquillity, he
-superseded its free institutions by a junto invested with dictatorial
-power; he caused an alarming number of the most respectable citizens to
-be banished, ruined by confiscation, or even put to death, on the
-slightest suspicion that by their wealth or connexions they might oppose
-his schemes of ambition; and he laboured with indefatigable zeal to
-enslave his own confiding countrymen, not only by spreading secret
-corruption at home, but also by changing the foreign policy of his
-predecessors, and helping his great friend, Francesco Sforza, and other
-usurpers, to crush the liberties of neighbouring states.
-
-Cosmo is nevertheless entitled to the grateful recollections of
-posterity for the efficient patronage he afforded learning and the arts,
-though he evidently carried it to excess as a means of promoting his
-political designs. He was profuse of favours and pensions to all who
-cultivated literature or philosophy with success; he bought at enormous
-prices whatever manuscripts or masterpieces of art his agents could
-collect in Europe or Asia; he ornamented Florence and its environs with
-splendid palaces, churches, convents, and public libraries. He died in
-the seventy-fifth year of his age, just after a decree of the senate had
-honoured him with the title of Father of his country, which was
-subsequently inscribed on his tomb.
-
-Lorenzo de Medici, the subject of the present memoir, was born at
-Florence on the 1st of January, 1448. His father was Piero, the son and
-successor of Cosmo: his mother, Lucretia Tornabuoni, a lady of some
-repute, both as a patroness of learning and as a poetess. He had
-scarcely left the nursery when he acquired the first rudiments of
-knowledge under the care and tuition of Gentile d’Urbino, afterwards
-Bishop of Arezzo. Cristoforo Landino was next engaged to direct his
-education; and Argyropylus taught him the Greek language and the
-Aristotelian philosophy, whilst Marsilio Ficino instilled into his
-youthful mind the precepts and doctrines of Plato. The rapidity of his
-proficiency was equal to the celebrity of his masters, and to the
-indications of talent that he had given in childhood. Piero, who was
-prevented by a precarious state of health from attending regularly to
-business, rejoiced at the prospect of soon having in his own son a
-strenuous and trusty coadjutor; and on the death of Cosmo, the domestic
-education of Lorenzo being completed, he sent him to visit the principal
-courts of Italy, in order to initiate him into political life, and to
-afford him an opportunity of forming such personal connexions as might
-advance the interests of the family. Piero pretended to succeed to
-Cosmo’s authority, as if it had been a part of his patrimony; but the
-Florentine statesmen, who thought themselves superior to him in age,
-capacities, and public services, disdained to pay him the same deference
-they had shown the more eminent abilities of his father. Besides, Cosmo
-had taken especial care to conciliate the esteem and affection of his
-countrymen. He had never refused gifts, loans, or credit to any of the
-citizens, and never raised his manners or his domestic establishment
-above the simplicity of common life. But Piero seemed to have no regard
-for the feelings of others: he ruined several merchants by attempting to
-withdraw considerable capital from commerce; he allowed his subordinate
-agents to make a most profligate and corrupt monopoly of government; and
-he shocked the republican notions of his countrymen by seeking to marry
-Lorenzo into a princely family. These causes of discontent arrayed
-against him a formidable party, under the direction of Agnolo
-Acciajuoli, Niccolo Soderini, and Luca Pitti, the founder of the
-magnificent palace, now the residence of the Grand Duke of Tuscany. A
-parliament of the people rejected Piero’s proposition of re-appointing
-the dictatorial junto, whose power expired in September, 1465. His cause
-was evidently lost, had his enemies continued firmly united; but the
-defection of the unprincipled Luca Pitti enabled him to recover his
-authority, which he soon secured by banishing his opponents, and by
-investing five of his dependants with the right of choosing the
-magistracy. Lorenzo is said on this occasion to have been of great
-assistance to his father; and a letter of Ferdinand, King of Naples, is
-still extant, in which that perfidious monarch congratulates him on the
-active part he had taken in the triumph, and in the consequent
-curtailment of popular rights.
-
-The populace of Florence were now entertained with splendid festivals,
-and with two tournaments, in which Lorenzo and his brother Giuliano bore
-away the prizes. These tournaments form an epoch in the history of
-literature; the victory of Lorenzo having been commemorated by the
-verses of Luca Pulci, and that of Giuliano, by a poem of Politian, which
-restored Italian poetry to its former splendour. About this period,
-1468, Lorenzo became enamoured, or rather fancied himself enamoured, of
-a lady whom he described as prodigiously endowed with all the charms of
-her sex, and he strove to immortalize his love in song. But, whether
-real or supposed, his passion did not prevent him from marrying Clarice
-Orsini, of the famous Roman family of that name. The nuptials were
-celebrated on the 4th of June, 1469, on a scale of royal magnificence.
-
-The death of Piero, which happened about the end of the same year, was
-not followed by any interruption of public tranquillity. The republicans
-were now either old or in exile; the rising generation grew up with
-principles of obedience to the Medici; and Lorenzo was easily
-acknowledged as the chief of the state. An attempt at revolution was
-made a few months afterwards at Prato, by Bernardo Nardi and some other
-Florentine exiles; but the complete inertness of the inhabitants
-rendered it unsuccessful. Nardi and six of his accomplices were executed
-at Florence; the remainder at Prato. Surrounded by a host of poets,
-philosophers, and artists, Lorenzo, however, left the republic under the
-misgovernment of its former rulers, whilst he gave himself up to the
-avocations of youth, and indulged an extraordinary taste for pompous
-shows and effeminate indulgence, which had a most pernicious influence
-on the morals of his fellow-citizens. The ostentatious visit which his
-infamous friend Galeazzo Sforza paid him in 1471, with a court sadly
-celebrated for its corruption and profligacy, is lamented by historians
-as one of the greatest disasters that befell the republic.
-
-Lorenzo went soon afterwards on a deputation to Rome, for the purpose of
-congratulating Sixtus IV. on his elevation to the papal chair. He met
-with the kindest reception; was made treasurer of the Holy See, and
-honoured with other favours; but he could not obtain a cardinal’s hat
-for his brother Giuliano. Accustomed to have his wishes readily
-gratified, he could not brook the refusal, and he sought his revenge in
-constantly thwarting the Pope in his politics, whether they tended to
-the advancement of his nephews, or to the liberty and independence of
-Italy. A disagreement, which arose in 1472, between the city of Volterra
-and the republic of Florence, afforded another instance of the
-peremptoriness of his character. He, at first, made some endeavours to
-convince the inhabitants of Volterra of their imprudence; but finding
-that the exasperated citizens rejected his advice, he prevailed on the
-Florentine government to repress them by force, though his uncle Tomaso
-Soderini and other statesmen of more experience strongly recommended
-conciliatory measures. An army was accordingly sent under the command of
-the Count of Urbino, which, after obtaining admission into the
-unfortunate city by capitulation, despoiled and plundered its
-inhabitants for a whole day.
-
-Though, on his first succeeding to his father, Lorenzo did not attempt
-to exercise the sovereign authority in person, he assumed it by degrees,
-in proportion as he advanced in manhood; and he even became so jealous
-of all those from whom any rivalry might be feared, that he depressed
-them to the utmost of his power. His brother, less ambitious and less
-arrogant than himself, tried to stop him in his tyrannical career; but
-Giuliano was five years younger: his representations had no effect; and
-these vexatious proceedings gave origin to the conspiracy of the Pazzi.
-The parties engaged in this famous attempt were several members of the
-distinguished family of the Pazzi, whom Lorenzo had injured in their
-interests as well as in their feelings; Girolamo Riario, a nephew of the
-Pope, whose hatred he had excited by continual opposition to his
-designs; Francesco Salviati, Archbishop of Pisa, whom he had prevented
-from taking possession of his see; and several other individuals of
-inferior note, who were either moved by private or public wrongs. After
-vain endeavours to seize the two brothers together, the conspirators
-resolved to execute their enterprize in the cathedral of Florence, on
-the 26th of April, 1478, in the course of a religious ceremony at which
-they were both to be present. At the moment that the priest raised the
-host, and all the congregation bowed down their heads, Giuliano fell
-under the dagger of Bernardo Bandini, whilst Lorenzo was so fortunate as
-to escape, and shut himself up in the sacristy until his friends came to
-his assistance. A simultaneous attack on the palace of government failed
-of success, and the Archbishop Salviati, who had directed it, was hung
-out of the palace windows in his prelatical robes. All those who were
-implicated in the conspiracy, or connected in any way with the
-conspirators, were immediately put to death. Lorenzo exerted all his
-influence to obtain those who had taken refuge abroad; and his wrath was
-not appeased until the blood of two hundred citizens was shed. The Pope
-pronounced a sentence of excommunication against him and the chief
-magistrates for having hanged an archbishop; and sent a crusade of
-almost all Italy against the republic, requiring that its leaders should
-be given up to suffer for their scandalous misdemeanour. The superior
-forces of the enemy ravaged the Florentine territory with impunity: the
-people began to murmur against a war in which they were involved for the
-sake of an individual; and Lorenzo could not but see that his situation
-became every day more critical and alarming. But having been confidently
-apprized that Ferdinand was disposed to a reconciliation with him, he
-took the resolution of going to Naples, as ambassador of the republic,
-in the hope of detaching the King from the league, and of inducing him
-to negotiate a peace with the Pope. Through his eloquence and his gold,
-he was successful in his mission; and after three months’ absence, at
-the beginning of March, 1480, he returned to Florence, where he was
-received with the greatest applause and exultation by the populace, to
-whom the dangers incurred by him in his embassy had been artfully
-exaggerated.
-
-This ebullition of popular favour encouraged Lorenzo to complete the
-consolidation of his power by fresh encroachments on the rights of his
-countrymen. In 1481 another plot was formed against him; but his
-watchful agents discovered it, and Battista Frescobaldi, with two of his
-accomplices, were hanged. Tranquil and secure at home, as well as
-peaceful and respected abroad, he now diverted his mind from public
-business to literary leisure, and spent his time in the society of men
-of talent, in philosophical studies, and in poetical composition. But
-his rational enjoyments had a short duration. Early in 1492 he was
-attacked by a slow fever, which, combined with his hereditary
-complaints, warned him of his approaching end. Having sent to request
-the attendance of the famous Savonarola, to whom he was desirous of
-making his confession, the austere Dominican readily complied with his
-wish, but declared he could not absolve him unless he restored to his
-fellow-citizens the rights of which he had despoiled them. To such a
-reparation Lorenzo would not consent; and he died without obtaining the
-absolution he had invoked. Piero, the eldest of his three sons, was
-deprived of the sovereignty in consequence of the reaction that the
-eloquent sermons of Savonarola produced in the morals of Florence.
-Giovanni, whom Innocent VIII., by a prostitution of ecclesiastical
-honours unprecedented in the annals of the church, had raised to the
-Cardinalship at the early age of thirteen, became Pope under the name of
-Leo X., and gave rise to the Reformation by his extreme profligacy and
-extravagance; and Giuliano, who afterwards allied himself by marriage to
-the royal House of France, was elevated to the dignity of Duke of
-Nemours.
-
-Lorenzo de Medici has been extolled with immoderate applause as a poet,
-a patron of learning, and a statesman. His voluminous poetical
-compositions, embracing subjects of love, rural life, philosophy,
-religious enthusiasm, and coarse licentiousness, exhibit an uncommon
-versatility of genius, a rich imagination, and a remarkable purity of
-language; but in spite of the exaggerated eulogies lavished on them by
-his own flatterers and by those of his dependants, they never obtained
-any popularity, and are now nearly buried in oblivion. His efforts for
-the diffusion of knowledge and taste shine more conspicuous; in this
-laudable course he followed the traces of Cosmo and of his father. It
-is, however, impossible to conceive any strong reverence or respect for
-his memory without forgetting his political conduct, which is far from
-deserving any praise.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-[Illustration:
-
-  _Engraved by E. Scriven._
-
-  GEORGE BUCHANAN.
-
-  _From a Picture by Francis Pourbus Sen. in the possession of the Royal
-    Society._
-
-  Under the Superintendance of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful
-    Knowledge.
-
-  _London. Published by Charles Knight, Pall Mall East._
-]
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration]
-
-                                BUCHANAN
-
-
-George Buchanan was born in February, 1506, at a small village called
-Killearn, on the borders of Stirlingshire and Dumbartonshire. He came,
-as he says, “of a family more gentle and ancient than wealthy.” His
-father dying, left a wife and eight children in a state of poverty.
-George, one of the youngest, was befriended, and, perhaps, saved from
-want and obscurity, by the kindness of his mother’s brother, James
-Heriot, who had early remarked his nephew’s talents, and determined to
-foster them by a good education. The ancient friendship between France
-and Scotland, cemented by their mutual hate of England, was then in full
-force. The Scotch respected the superiority of the French in manners,
-arts, and learning; and very commonly sent the wealthier and more
-promising of their youth to be educated by their more polished
-neighbours. Accordingly Buchanan, at the age of fourteen, was sent by
-his uncle to the University of Paris. Here he applied himself most
-diligently to the prescribed course of study, which consisted
-principally in a careful perusal of the best Latin authors, especially
-the poets. This kind of learning was peculiarly suited to his taste and
-genius; and he made such progress, as not only to become a sound
-scholar, but one of the most graceful Latin writers of modern times.
-
-After having remained in Paris for the space of two years, which he must
-have employed to much better purpose than most youths of his age, the
-death of his kind uncle reduced him again to poverty. Partly on this
-account, partly from ill health, he returned to his own country, and
-spent a year at home. Alter having recruited his strength, he entered as
-a common soldier into a body of troops that was brought over from France
-by John Duke of Albany, then Regent of Scotland, for the purpose of
-opposing the English. Buchanan himself says that he went into the army
-“to learn the art of war;” it is probable that his needy circumstances
-were of more weight than this reason. During this campaign he was
-subjected to great hardships from severe falls of snow; in consequence
-of which he relapsed into his former illness; and was obliged to return
-home a second time, where he was confined to his bed a great part of the
-winter. But on his recovery, in the spring of 1524, when he was just
-entering upon his 18th year, he again took to his studies, and pursued
-them with great ardour. He seems to have found friends at this time rich
-enough to send him to the University of St. Andrews, on which foundation
-he was entered as a _pauper_, a term which corresponds to the servitor
-and sizer of the English Universities. John Mair, better known (through
-Buchanan[2]) by his Latinized name of Major, was then reading lectures
-at St. Andrews on grammar and logic. He soon heard of the superior
-accomplishments of the poor student, and immediately took him under his
-protection. Buchanan, notwithstanding his avowed contempt for his old
-tutor, must have imbibed from Major many of his opinions. He was of an
-ardent temper, and easy, as his contemporaries tell us, to lead
-whichever way his friends desired him to go; he was also of an inquiring
-disposition, and never could endure absurdities of any kind. This sort
-of mind must have found great delight in the doctrines which Major
-taught. He affirmed the superiority of general councils over the papacy,
-even to the depriving a Pope of his spiritual authority in case of
-misdemeanour; he denied the lawfulness of the Pope’s temporal sway; he
-held that tithes were an institution of mere human appointment, which
-might be dropped or changed at the pleasure of the people; he railed
-bitterly against the immoralities and abominations of the Romish
-priesthood. In political matters his creed coincides exactly with
-Buchanan’s published opinions,—that the authority of kings was not of
-divine right, but was solely through the people, for the people; that by
-a lawful convention of states, any king, in case of tyranny or
-misgovernment, might be controlled, divested of his power, or capitally
-executed according to circumstances. But if Major, who was a weak man
-and a bad arguer, had such weight with Buchanan, John Knox, the
-celebrated Scottish reformer, who was a fellow-student with him at St.
-Andrews, must have had still more. They began a strict friendship at
-this place, which only ended with their lives. Knox speaks very highly
-of him at a late period of his own life: “That notabil man, Mr. George
-Bucquhanane, remainis alyve to this day, in the yeir of God 1566 yeares,
-to the glory of God, to the gret honor of this natioun, and to the
-comfort of thame that delyte in letters and vertew. That singular work
-of David’s Psalmes, in Latin meetere and poesie, besyd many uther, can
-witness the rare graices of God gevin to that man.” These two men
-speedily discovered the absurdity of the art of logic, as it was then
-taught. Buchanan tells us that its _proper_ name was the art of
-sophistry. Their mutual longings for better reasonings, and better
-thoughts to reason upon, produced great effects in the reformation of
-their native country.
-
-Footnote 2:
-
-  See his epigram. “In Johannem solo cognomento Majorem ut ipse in
-  fionte libri scripsit.”
-
-                Cum scateat nugis solo cognomine Major,
-                  Nec sit in immenso patina sana libro;
-                Non minem titulis quod se veracibus ornet;
-                  Nec semper mendax fingere Creta solet.
-
-  The book was “ane most fulish tractate on ane most emptie subject.”
-
-After Buchanan had finished his studies at St. Andrew’s, and taken the
-degree of Bachelor of Arts, he accompanied Major to Paris, where his
-attention was more seriously turned towards the doctrines of the
-reformation, which at that time were eagerly and warmly discussed; but
-whether from fear of the consequences, or from other motives, he did not
-then declare himself to be a Lutheran. For five years he remained
-abroad, sometimes employed, sometimes in considerable want; at the end
-of which time he returned to Scotland with the Earl of Cassilis, by whom
-he had been engaged as a travelling companion. His noble patron
-introduced him at the court of James V. the father of Mary Stuart. James
-retained him as tutor to his natural son, James Stuart, afterwards Abbot
-of Kelso. It has been proved that he was _not_ tutor to the King’s other
-natural son, James Stuart, afterwards Earl of Murray and Regent of
-Scotland, whose first title was Prior of St. Andrews.
-
-While he was at court, having a good deal of leisure, he amused himself
-with writing a pretty severe satire on the monks, to which he gives the
-name of “Somnium.” He feigns in this piece that Saint Francis d’Assize
-had appeared to him in a dream, and besought him to become a monk of his
-order. The poet answers, “that he is nowise fit for the purpose; because
-he could not find in his heart to become slavish, impudent, deceitful,
-or beggarly, and that moreover very few monks had the good fortune, as
-he understood, to reach even the gates of paradise.” This short satire
-was too well written, and too bitter, to pass unnoticed, and the
-sufferers laid their complaint before the king: but as Buchanan’s name
-had not been put to it, they had no proof against him, and the matter
-dropped. Soon after the Franciscans fell into disgrace at Court; and
-James himself instigated the poet to renew the attack. He obeyed, but
-did not half satisfy the King’s anger in the light and playful piece
-which he produced. On a second command to be still more severe, he
-produced his famous satire ‘Franciscanus,’ in which he brings all his
-powers of wit and poetry to bear upon the unfortunate brotherhood. The
-argument of the poem is as follows:—he supposes that a friend of his is
-earnestly desirous to become a Cordelier, upon which he tells him that
-he also had had a similar intention, but had been dissuaded from it by a
-third person, whose reasons he proceeds to relate. They turn upon the
-wretched morals and conduct of those who belonged to the order, as
-exhibited in the abominable lessons which he puts in the mouth of an
-ancient monk, the instructor of the novices. He does not give this man
-the character of a rough and ignorant priest, but makes him tell his
-tale cleverly, giving free vent to every refinement in evil which the
-age was acquainted with, and speaking the most home truths of his
-brethren without fear or scruple. The Latin is pure, and free from the
-barbarisms of the time.
-
-After such a caustic production, it is no wonder that the party assailed
-made use of every means to destroy its author. The King, who was a weak
-and variable man, after much importunity on their part, allowed them to
-have Buchanan arrested in the year 1539, on the plea of heresy, along
-with many others who held his opinions about the state of the Scottish
-church. Cardinal Beatoun, above all others, used his best endeavours to
-procure sentence against him; he even bribed the King to effect his
-purpose. But Buchanan’s friends gave him timely warning of the prelate’s
-exertions, and, as he was not very carefully guarded, he made his escape
-out of the window of his prison, and fled to England. He found, however,
-that England was no safe place for him, for at that time Henry VIII. was
-burning, on the same day and at the same stake, both protestant and
-papist, with the most unflinching impartiality. He went over, therefore,
-for the third time into France; but on his arrival at Paris, finding his
-old enemy the Cardinal Beatoun ambassador at the French court, and being
-fearful that means might be taken to have him arrested, he closed with
-the offer of a learned Portuguese, Andrea di Govea, to become a tutor at
-the new college at Bourdeaux. During his residence there he composed his
-famous Latin Tragedies, ‘Jephthes’ and ‘Joannes Baptistes,’ and
-translated the Medea and Alcestis of Euripides into Latin metre, for the
-youth of his college. The two latter show that his acquaintance with the
-Greek language was by no means superficial.
-
-After holding this situation for about three years, Buchanan went with
-Govea, at the instance of the King of Portugal, to a lately established
-school at Coimbra. Before he ventured into Portugal, however, he took
-care to let the King know that his Franciscanus was undertaken at the
-command of his sovereign, and therefore ought nowise to endanger his
-safety in Portugal. The King promised him his protection. But he had not
-been at Coimbra long, before he was accused by the monks of heresy, and
-the King, forgetting his promise, allowed them to keep Buchanan prisoner
-in a convent, as they declared, for the purpose of reclaiming him. They
-gave him as a penance the task of translating the Psalms of David from
-the Vulgate into Latin verse. This he accomplished to admiration; and
-his production is acknowledged to surpass all works of the like sort.
-The metres are chiefly lyrical. He was soon after dismissed from prison,
-and took ship for England, and staying there but a short time, he
-returned again to France. Here the Marechal de Brissac intrusted him
-with the education of his son Timoleon de Cossé. While thus employed he
-studied, more particularly than he had hitherto done, the controversies
-of the day with regard to religion, and became most probably a confirmed
-protestant, though he did not openly renounce catholicism till some time
-afterwards. He wrote, and dedicated to his pupil, a much admired piece,
-entitled ‘Sphœra,’ during his tutorship. In the year 1560 he returned
-again to Scotland, the reformed religion being then prevalent there, and
-became publicly a member of the Protestant Kirk.
-
-The most important, because the most public part of Buchanan’s life now
-begins. Such a man could not long remain unnoticed by the great in
-Scotland, and Mary Stuart herself became one of his best friends. He had
-written for her two epithalamia, one on her marriage with the Dauphin,
-and one on her marriage with Lord Darnley. Her respect for his abilities
-was very great, and she had him appointed tutor to her son a month after
-he was born, in the year 1566.
-
-It is a matter of no small wonder, that Buchanan, who was James’s most
-influential tutor, for the three others, who were joined in the
-commission with him, were under his superintendence, should have
-educated him as he did, or made him what he was. A book which Buchanan
-published, and which is among the most famous of his works, ‘De jure
-Regni apud Scotos,’ being a conversation between himself and Maitland
-the Queen’s secretary, contains (though dedicated to his royal pupil)
-sentiments totally at variance with all the notions of James. In it
-Buchanan follows the ancient models of what was thought a perfect state
-of policy. He proves that men were born to live socially,—that they
-elected kings to protect the laws which bind them together,—that if new
-laws are made by kings, they must be also subjected to the opinion of
-the states of the nation,—that a king is the father of his people for
-good, not for evil,—that this was the original intention in the choice
-of Scottish kings,—that the crown is not necessarily hereditary, and
-that its transmission by natural descent but for its certainty is not
-defensible,—that a violation of the laws by the monarch may be punished
-even to the death, according to the enormity of it,—that when St. Paul
-talks of obedience to authorities he spoke to a low condition of
-persons, and to a minority in the various countries in which they
-were,—that it is not necessary that a king should be tried by his peers.
-He concludes by saying, “that if in other countries the people chose to
-exalt their kings above the laws, it seems to have been the evident
-intention of Scotland to make her kings inferior to them.” In matters of
-religion he rails against episcopal authority of all kinds. Now nothing
-can be more opposed than all this to the opinions of James, who most
-strongly upheld the divine right of kings, and episcopal authority.
-Buchanan, when he was accused of making James a pedant, declared it to
-be “because he was fit for nothing else.” He was a stern and unyielding
-master, and no sparer of the rod, even though applied to the back of
-royalty; and this may in some measure account for the want of influence
-which he had over the King’s mind. James advises his son, in his
-βασίλικον δῷρον not to attend to the abominable scandals of such men as
-Buchanan and Knox, “who are persons of seditious spirit, and all who
-hold their opinions.”
-
-It might have been well, however, for the unfortunate Charles if he had
-been rather more swayed by the opinions of the tutor, and less by the
-lessons of the pupil. In the early part of Buchanan’s tutorship he
-attached himself strongly to the interests of the Regent, Murray; and as
-the patron fell off from the interests of Mary, so did the historian,
-till at last he became the bitterest of her enemies. He alone has
-ventured to assert in print his belief of her criminal connexion with
-David Rizzio, in his ‘Detectio Mariæ Reginæ,’ published in 1571; and he
-was her great accuser at the court of Elizabeth, when appointed one of
-the commissioners to inquire into Mary’s conduct, she being a prisoner
-in England. Buchanan too lies under the serious charge of having forged
-the controverted letters, supposed to have passed between Mary and her
-third husband Bothwell, while she was yet the wife of Earl Darnley, from
-which documents it was made to appear that she was art and part in the
-murder of her Royal Consort. Whether he really forged these letters or
-not, is a question perhaps too deeply buried in the dust of antiquity to
-admit of proof. He offered to swear to their genuineness, however, which
-was an ill return, if that were all his fault, to the kindness he had
-received from her. His friendship for Murray continued firm all his
-life; this man was one of the few persons he seems to have been really
-attached to. Through the Earl’s interest, Buchanan was made keeper of
-the Scottish seals, and a Lord of Session. Nothing is told us of his
-abilities as a practical politician, but it may be supposed that he was
-fitted for the office he held, for Murray was very careful in the choice
-of his public servants.
-
-Buchanan’s last work, on which he spent the remaining fourteen years of
-his life, is yet to be spoken of,—his History of Scotland. In this,
-which like the rest of his productions was written in Latin, he has been
-said to unite the elegance of Livy with the brevity of Sallust. With
-this praise, however, and with that which is due to his lively and
-interesting way of relating a story, our commendations of this work must
-begin and end. As a history, it is valueless. The early part is a tissue
-of fable, without dates or authorities, as indeed he had none to give;
-the latter is the work of an acrimonious and able partisan, not of a
-calm inquirer and observer of the times in which he lived. The work is
-divided into four books. The first three contain a long dissertation on
-the derivation of the name of Britain,—a geographical description of
-Scotland, with some poetical accounts of its ancient manners and
-customs,—a treatise on the ancient inhabitants of Britain, chiefly taken
-from the traditionary accounts of the bards, and the fables of the monks
-engrafted on them, on the vestiges of ancient religions, and on the
-resemblances of the various languages of different parts of the island.
-The real history of Scotland does not begin till the fourth book; it
-consists of an account of a regular succession of one hundred and eight
-kings, from Fergus I. to James VI., a space extending from the beginning
-of the sixth century to the end of the sixteenth. The apocryphal nature
-of the greater part of these monarchs is now so fully admitted, that it
-is unnecessary to dilate upon them. Edward I., as is well known,
-destroyed all the genuine records of Scottish history which he could
-find. Buchanan, instead of rejecting the absurd traditionary tales of
-bards and monks, has merely laboured to dress up a creditable history
-for the honour of Scotland, and to “clothe with all the beauties and
-graces of fiction, those legends which formerly had only its wildness
-and extravagance.”
-
-This work, and his De jure Regni apud Scotos, he published at the same
-time, very shortly before his death; and, while he was on his death-bed,
-the Scottish Parliament condemned them both as false and seditious
-books. We may lay part of this condemnation to James’s account. It is
-not probable that he would allow so much abuse of his mother as they
-contained, directly and indirectly, to pass without some public stigma.
-There remain to be noticed only two small pieces of this author in the
-Scottish language, one a grievous complaint to the Scottish peers,
-arising from the assassination of the Earl of Murray; the other, a
-severe satire against Secretary Maitland, for the readiness with which
-he changed from party to party: this has the title of ‘Chameleon.’
-
-Buchanan died at the good old age of seventy-four, in his dotage as his
-enemies said, but in full vigour of mind as his last great work, his
-History, has proved. Much has been said in his dispraise by enemies of
-every class, his chief detractors being the partisans of Mary Stuart and
-the Romish priesthood. The first of these accuse him of ingratitude to
-Major, Mary, Morton, Maitland, and to others of his benefactors; of
-forging the letters above-mentioned, and of perjury in offering to swear
-to them. The latter accuse him of licentiousness, of drunkenness, and
-falsehood; and one of them has descended so far as to quarrel with his
-personal ugliness. Of these charges many are, to say the least,
-unproved; many appear to be altogether untrue. But his fame rests rather
-on his persevering industry, his excellent scholarship, and his fine
-genius, than upon his moral qualities. Buchanan wrote his own life in
-Latin two years before his death. To this work, to Mackenzie’s ‘Lives
-and Characters of the most eminent writers of the Scots Nation,’ to the
-Biographia Britannica, and the numerous authorities on insulated points
-there quoted, we may refer those who wish to pursue this subject.
-Buchanan’s works were collected and edited by the grammarian Ruddiman,
-and printed by Freebairn, at Edinburgh, in the year 1715, in two
-volumes, folio.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-[Illustration:
-
-  _Engraved by J. Thomson._
-
-  FÉNÉLON.
-
-  _From the original Picture by Vivien in the Collection at the Louvre._
-
-  Under the Superintendance of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful
-    Knowledge.
-
-  _London. Published by Charles Knight, Pall Mall East._
-]
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration]
-
-                                FENELON
-
-
-Francois de Salignac de Lamothe-Fenelon was born August 6th, 1651, at
-the Castle of Fenelon, of a noble and ancient family in the province of
-Perigord.
-
-Early proofs of talent and genius induced his uncle, the Marquis de
-Fenelon, a man of no ordinary merit, to take him under his immediate
-care and superintendence. By him he was placed at the seminary of St.
-Sulpice, then lately founded in Paris for the purpose of educating young
-men for the church.
-
-The studies of the young Abbé were not encouraged by visions of a stall
-and a mitre. It seems that the object of his earliest ambition was, as a
-missionary, to carry the blessings of the Gospel to the savages of North
-America, or to the Mahometans and heretics of Greece and Anatolia. The
-fears, however, or the hopes of his friends detained him at home, and
-after his ordination he confined himself for several years to the duties
-of the ministry in the parish of St. Sulpice.
-
-At the age of twenty-seven he was appointed superior of a society which
-had for its object the instruction and encouragement of female converts
-to the Church of Rome; and from this time he took up his abode with his
-uncle. In this house he first became known to Bossuet, by whose
-recommendation he was intrusted with the conduct of a mission, charged
-with the duty of reclaiming the Protestants in the province of Poitou,
-in the memorable year 1685, when the Huguenots were writhing under the
-infliction of the dragonnade, employed by the government to give full
-effect to the revocation of the edict of Nantes. Fenelon had no mind to
-have dragoons for his coadjutors, and requested that all show of martial
-terror might be removed from the places which he visited. His future
-proceedings were in strict conformity with this gentle commencement, and
-consequently exposed him to the harassing remonstrances of his
-superiors.
-
-His services in Poitou were not acknowledged by any reward from the
-government, for Louis XIV. had begun to look coldly upon him; but it was
-not his fortune to remain long in obscurity. Amongst the visitors at his
-uncle’s house, whose friendship he had the happiness to gain, was the
-Duke de Beauvilliers, a man who could live at the court of Louis without
-ceasing to live as a Christian. This nobleman was appointed in the year
-1689 Governor of the Duke of Burgundy, the grandson of Louis, and heir,
-after his father the Dauphin, to the throne of France. His first act was
-to appoint Fenelon preceptor to his royal charge, then in his eighth
-year, and already distinguished for the frightful violence of his
-passions, his insolent demeanour, and tyrannical spirit. The child had,
-however, an affectionate heart and a quick sense of shame. Fenelon
-gained his love and confidence, and used his power to impress upon him
-the Christian’s method of self-government. His headstrong pupil was
-subdued, not by the fear of man, but by the fear of God. In the task of
-instruction less difficulty awaited him; for the young prince was
-remarkably intelligent and industrious. The progress of a royal student
-is likely to be rated at his full amount by common fame; but there is
-reason to believe that in this case it was rapid and substantial.
-
-In 1694 he was presented to the Abbey of St. Valery, and two years
-afterwards promoted to the Archbishopric of Cambray, with a command that
-he should retain his office of preceptor, giving personal attendance
-only during the three months of absence from his diocese which the
-Canons allowed. In resigning his abbey, which from conscientious motives
-he refused to keep with his archbishopric, he was careful to assign such
-reasons as might not convey an indirect censure of the numerous
-pluralists among his clerical brethren. Probably this excess of
-delicacy, which it is easy to admire and difficult to justify, was
-hardly requisite in the case of many of the offenders. One of them, the
-Archbishop of Rheims, when informed of the conscientious conduct of
-Fenelon, made the following reply: “M. de Cambray with his sentiments
-does right in resigning his benefice, and I with my sentiments do very
-right in keeping mine.” This mode of defence is capable of very general
-application, and is in fact very generally used, being good for other
-cases beside that of pluralities.
-
-This preferment was the last mark of royal favour which he received.
-Louis was never cordially his friend, and there were many at court eager
-to convert him into an enemy. An opportunity was afforded by Fenelon’s
-connexion with Madame Guyon.
-
-It is well known that this lady was the great apostle of the Quietists,
-a sect of religionists, so called, because they studied to attain a
-state of perfect contemplation, in which the soul is the passive
-recipient of divine light. She was especially noted for her doctrine of
-pure love; she taught that Christian perfection consisted in a
-disinterested love of God, excluding the hope of happiness and fear of
-misery, and that this perfection was attainable by man. Fenelon first
-became acquainted with her at the house of his friend the Duke de
-Beauvilliers, and, convinced of the sincerity of her religion, was
-disposed to regard her more favourably from a notion that her religious
-opinions, against which a loud clamour had been raised, coincided very
-nearly with his own. It has been the fashion to represent him as her
-convert and disciple. The truth is, that he was deeply versed in the
-writings of the later mystics; men who, with all their extravagance,
-were perhaps the best representatives of the Christian character to be
-found among the Roman Catholics of their time. He considered the
-doctrine of Madame Guyon to be substantially the same with that of his
-favourite authors; and whatever appeared exceptionable in her
-expositions, he attributed to loose and exaggerated expression natural
-to her sex and character.
-
-The approbation of Fenelon gave currency to the fair Quietist amongst
-orthodox members of the church. At last the bishops began to take alarm:
-the clamour was renewed, and the examination of her doctrines solemnly
-intrusted to Bossuet and two other learned divines. Fenelon was avowedly
-her friend; yet no one hitherto had breathed a suspicion of any flaw in
-his orthodoxy. It was even during the examination, and towards the close
-of it, that he was promoted to the Archbishopric of Cambray. The blow
-came at length from the hand of his most valued friend. He had been
-altogether passive in the proceedings respecting Madame Guyon. Bossuet,
-who had been provoked into vehement wrath, and had resolved to crush
-her, was sufficiently irritated by this temperate neutrality. But when
-Fenelon found himself obliged to publish his ‘Maxims of the Saints,’ in
-which, without attacking others, he defends his own views of some of the
-controverted points, Bossuet, in a tumult of zeal, threw himself at the
-feet of Louis, denounced his friend as a dangerous fanatic, and besought
-the King to interpose the royal arm between the Church and pollution.
-Fenelon offered to submit his book to the judgment of the Pope.
-Permission was granted in very ungracious terms, and presently followed
-by a sentence of banishment to his diocese. This sudden reverse of
-fortune, which he received without even whispering a complaint, served
-to show the forbearance and meekness of his spirit, but it deprived him
-of none of his powers. An animated controversy arose between him and
-Bossuet, and all Europe beheld with admiration the boldness and success
-with which he maintained his ground against the renowned and veteran
-disputant; and that, too, in the face of fearful discouragement. The
-whole power of the court was arrayed against him, and he stood alone;
-for his powerful friends had left his side. The Cardinal de Noailles and
-others, who had in private expressed unqualified approbation of his
-book, meanly withheld a public acknowledgment of their opinions. Whilst
-his enemy enjoyed every facility, and had Louis and his courtiers and
-courtly bishops to cheer him on, it was with difficulty that Fenelon
-could find a printer who would venture to put to the press a work which
-bore his name. Under these disadvantages, harassed in mind, and with
-infirm health, he replied to the deliberate and artful attacks of his
-adversary with a rapidity which, under any circumstances, would have
-been astonishing. He was now gaining ground daily in public opinion. The
-Pope also, who knew his merit, was very unwilling to condemn. His
-persecutors were excited to additional efforts. He had already been
-banished from court; now he was deprived of the name of preceptor, and
-of his salary,—of that very salary which some time before he had eagerly
-offered to resign, in consideration of the embarrassed state of the
-royal treasury. The flagging zeal of the Pope was stimulated by threats
-conveyed in letters from Louis penned by Bossuet. At length the sentence
-of condemnation was obtained; but in too mild a form to satisfy
-altogether the courtly party. No bull was issued. A simple brief
-pronounced certain propositions to be erroneous and dangerous, and
-condemned the book which contained them, without sentencing it in the
-usual manner to the flames.
-
-It is needless to say that Fenelon submitted. He published without delay
-the sentence of condemnation, noting the selected propositions, and
-expressing his entire acquiescence in the judgment pronounced; and
-prohibited the faithful in his diocese from reading or having in their
-possession his own work, which up to that moment he had defended so
-manfully. Protestants, who are too apt in judging the conduct of Roman
-Catholics, to forget every thing but their zeal, have raised an outcry
-against his meanness and dissimulation. Fenelon was a sincere member of
-a Church which claimed infallibility. We may regret the thraldom in
-which such a mind was held by an authority from which the Protestant
-happily is free; but the censure which falls on him personally for this
-act is certainly misplaced.
-
-The faint hopes which his friends might have cherished, that when the
-storm had passed he would be restored to favour, were soon extinguished
-by an event, which, whilst it closed against him for ever the doors of
-the palace, secured him a place in history, and without which it is
-probable that he would never have become the subject even of a short
-memoir.
-
-A manuscript which he had intrusted to a servant to copy, was
-treacherously sold by this man to a printer in Paris, who immediately
-put it to the press, under the title of Continuation of the Fourth Book
-of the Odyssey, or Adventures of Telemachus, Son of Ulysses, with the
-royal privilege, dated April 6, 1699. It was told at court that the
-forthcoming work was from the pen of the obnoxious archbishop; and
-before the impression of the first volume was completed, orders were
-given to suppress it, to punish the printers, and seize the copies
-already printed. A few however escaped the hands of the police, and were
-rapidly circulated. One of them, together with a copy of the remaining
-part of the manuscript, soon after came into the possession of a printer
-at the Hague, who could publish it without danger.
-
-So eager was the curiosity which the violent proceedings of the French
-court had excited, that the press could hardly be made, with the utmost
-exertion, to keep pace with the demand. Such is the history of the first
-appearance of Telemachus.
-
-Louis was persuaded to think that the whole book was intended to be a
-satire on him, his court, and government; and the world was persuaded
-for a time to think the same. So, whilst the wrath of the King was
-roused to the uttermost, all Europe was sounding forth the praises of
-Fenelon. The numerous enemies of Louis exulted at the supposed
-exhibition of his tyranny and profligate life. The philosophers were
-charmed with the liberal and enlightened views of civil government which
-they seemed to discover. It is now well known that the anger and the
-praise were alike undeserved. The book was probably written for the use
-of the Duke of Burgundy, certainly at a time when Fenelon enjoyed the
-favour of his sovereign, and was desirous to retain it. He may have
-forgotten that it was impossible to describe a good and a bad king, a
-virtuous and a profligate court, without saying much that would bear
-hard upon Louis and his friends. As for his political enlightenment, it
-is certain that he had his full share of the monarchical principles of
-his time and nation. He wished to have good kings, but he made no
-provision for bad ones. It is difficult to believe that Louis was
-seriously alarmed at his notions of political economy. That science was
-not in a very advanced state; but no one could fear that a prince could
-be induced by the lessons of his tutor to collect all the artificers of
-luxury in his capital, and drive them in a body into the fields to
-cultivate potatoes and cabbages, with a belief that he would thus make
-the country a garden, and the town a seat of the Muses.
-
-Nothing was now left to Fenelon but to devote himself to his episcopal
-duties, which he seems to have discharged with equal zeal and ability.
-The course of his domestic life, as described by an eyewitness, was
-retired, and, to a remarkable degree, uniform. Strangers were
-courteously and hospitably received; but his society was confined for
-the most part to the ecclesiastics who resided in his house. Amongst
-them were some of his own relations, to whom he was tenderly attached,
-but for whose preferment, it should be noticed, he never manifested an
-unbecoming eagerness. His only recreation was a solitary walk in the
-fields, where it was his employment, as he observes to a friend, to
-converse with his God. If in his rambles he fell in with any of the
-poorer part of his flock, he would sit with them on the grass, and
-discourse about their temporal as well as their spiritual concerns; and
-sometimes he would visit them in their humble sheds, and partake of such
-refreshment as they offered him.
-
-In the beginning of the 18th century we find him engaged at once in
-controversy and politics. The revival of the old dispute with the
-Jansenists, to whom he was strongly opposed, obliged him to take up his
-pen; but in using it he never forgot his own maxim, that “rigour and
-severity are not of the spirit of the Gospel.” For a knowledge of his
-political labours we are indebted to his biographer, the Cardinal de
-Bausset, who first published his letters to the Duke de Beauvilliers on
-the subject of the war which followed the grand alliance in the year
-1701. In them he not only considers the general questions of the
-succession to the Spanish monarchy, the objects of the confederated
-powers, and the measures best calculated to avert or soften their
-hostility, but even enters into details of military operations,
-discusses the merits of the various generals, stations the different
-armies, and sketches a plan of the campaign. Towards the close of the
-war he communicated to the Duke de Chevreuse heads of a very extensive
-reform in all the departments of government. This reform did not suppose
-any fundamental change of the old despotism. It was intended, doubtless,
-for the consideration of the Duke of Burgundy, to whose succession all
-France was looking forward with sanguine hopes, founded on the
-acknowledged excellence of his character, which Fenelon himself had so
-happily contributed to form. But amongst the other trials which visited
-his latter days, he was destined to mourn the death of his pupil.
-
-Fenelon did not long survive the general pacification. After a short
-illness and intense bodily suffering, which he seems to have supported
-by calling to mind the sufferings of his Saviour, he died February 7th,
-1715, in the sixty-fourth year of his age. No money was found in his
-coffers. The produce of the sale of his furniture, together with the
-arrears of rent due to him, were appropriated, by his direction, to
-pious and charitable purposes.
-
-The calumnies with which he was assailed during the affair of Quietism
-were remembered only to the disadvantage of their authors. The public
-seem eventually to have regarded him as a man who was persecuted because
-he refused to be a persecutor; who had maintained, at all hazards, what
-he believed to be the cause of truth and justice; and had resigned his
-opinion only at that moment when conscience required the sacrifice.
-
-Universal homage was paid by his contemporaries to his talents and
-genius. In the grasp and power of his intellect, and in the extent and
-completeness of his knowledge, none probably would have ventured to
-compare him with Bossuet; but in fertility and brilliancy of
-imagination, in a ready and dexterous use of his materials, and in that
-quality which his countrymen call esprit, he was supposed to have no
-superior. Bossuet himself said of him “Il brille d’esprit, il est tout
-esprit, il en a bien plus que moi.”
-
-It is obvious that his great work, the Adventures of Telemachus, was, in
-the first instance, indebted for some portion of its popularity to
-circumstances which had no connexion with its merits; but we cannot
-attribute to the same cause the continued hold which it has maintained
-on the public favour. Those who are ignorant of the interest which
-attended its first appearance still feel the charm of that beautiful
-language which is made the vehicle of the purest morality and the most
-ennobling sentiments. In the many editions through which it passed,
-between its first publication and the death of the author, Fenelon took
-no concern. Publicly he neither avowed nor disavowed the work, though he
-prepared corrections and additions for future editors. All obstacles to
-its open circulation were removed by the death of Louis; and in the year
-1717, the Marquis de Fenelon, his great-nephew, presented to Louis XV. a
-new and correct edition, superintended by himself, from which the text
-of all subsequent editions has been taken.
-
-The best authority for the life of Fenelon accessible to the public is
-the laborious work of his biographer, the Cardinal de Bausset, which is
-rendered particularly valuable by the great number of original documents
-which appear at the end of each volume. Its value would be increased if
-much of the theological discussion were omitted, and the four volumes
-compressed into three.
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration]
-
-                                  WREN
-
-
-Christopher Wren, the most celebrated of British architects, was born at
-East Knoyle in Wiltshire, October 20, 1632. His father was Rector of
-that parish, Dean of Windsor, and Registrar of the Order of the Garter:
-his uncle, Dr. Matthew Wren, was successively Bishop of Hereford, of
-Norwich, and of Ely; and was one of the greatest sufferers for the royal
-cause during the Commonwealth, having been imprisoned nearly twenty
-years in the Tower without ever having been brought to trial. The
-political predilections of Wren’s family may be sufficiently understood
-from these notices; but he himself, although his leaning probably was to
-the side which had been espoused by his father and his uncle, seems to
-have taken no active part in state affairs. The period of his long life
-comprehended a series of the mightiest national convulsions and changes
-that ever took place in England—the civil war—the overthrow of the
-monarchy—the domination of Cromwell—the Restoration—the Revolution—the
-union with Scotland—and, finally, the accession of a new family to the
-throne; but we do not find that in the high region of philosophy and art
-in which he moved, he ever allowed himself to be either withdrawn from
-or interrupted in his course by any of these great events of the outer
-world.
-
-His health in his early years was extremely delicate. On this account he
-received the commencement of his education at home under the
-superintendence of his father and a domestic tutor. He was then sent to
-Westminster School, over which the celebrated Busby had just come to
-preside. The only memorial which we possess of Wren’s schoolboy days, is
-a dedication in Latin verse, addressed by him to his father in his
-thirteenth year, of an astronomical machine which he had invented, and
-which seems from his description to have been a sort of apparatus for
-representing the celestial motions, such as we now call an orrery. His
-genius is also stated to have displayed itself at this early age in
-other mechanical contrivances.
-
-[Illustration:
-
-  _Engraved by W. Holl._
-
-  SIR CHRISTOPHER WREN.
-
-  _From the original picture by Sir G. Kneller, in the possession of the
-    Royal Society._
-
-  Under the Superintendance of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful
-    Knowledge.
-
-  _London. Published by Charles Knight, Pall Mall East._
-]
-
-In 1646 he was sent to Oxford, and entered as a gentleman commoner at
-Wadham College. Of his academical life we can say little more than that
-it confirmed the promise of his early proficiency. He was especially
-distinguished by his mathematical acquirements, and gained the notice
-and acquaintance of many of the most learned and influential persons
-belonging to the university. Several short treatises and mechanical
-inventions are assigned to this period of his life: but as these have
-long ceased to interest any but curious inquirers into the history of
-literature or science, we can only indicate their existence, and refer
-to other and more comprehensive works. In 1650 Wren graduated as
-Bachelor of Arts. He was elected Fellow of All Souls on the 2d of
-November, 1653, and took the degree of Master of Arts on the 12th of
-December in the same year. Of the subjects which engaged his active and
-versatile mind at this time, one of the chief was the science of
-Anatomy; and he is, on apparently good grounds, thought to have first
-suggested and tried the interesting experiment of injecting liquids of
-various kinds into the veins of living animals,—a process of surgery,
-which, applied to the transfusion of healthy blood into a morbid or
-deficient circulation, has been revived, not without some promise of
-important results, in our own day. Another subject which attracted much
-of his attention was the Barometer; but he has no claim whatever, either
-to the invention of that instrument, or to the detection of the great
-principle of physics, of which it is an exemplification. The notion
-which has been taken up of his right to supplant the illustrious
-Torricelli here, has arisen merely from mistaking the question with
-regard to the causes of the fluctuations in the height of the
-barometrical column, while the instrument continues in the same place,
-for the entirely different question as to the cause why the fluid
-remains suspended at all; about which, since the celebrated experiments
-of Pascal, published in 1647, there never has been any controversy. It
-was the former phenomenon only which was attributed by some to the
-influence of the moon, and which Wren and many of his contemporaries
-exercised their ingenuity, as many of their successors have done, in
-endeavouring to explain.
-
-In carrying on these investigations and experiments, Wren’s diligence
-was stimulated and assisted by his having been admitted a member, about
-this period, of that celebrated association of philosophical inquirers,
-out of whose meetings, begun some years before, eventually arose the
-Royal Society. But, like several others of the more eminent members, he
-was soon removed from the comparative retirement of Oxford. On the 7th
-of August, 1657, being then only in his twenty-fifth year, he was chosen
-to the Professorship of Astronomy in Gresham College. This chair he held
-till the 8th of March, 1661, when he resigned it in consequence of
-having, on the 31st of January preceding, received the appointment of
-Savilian Professor of Astronomy at Oxford. On the 12th of September,
-1661, he took his degree of Doctor of Civil Law at Oxford, and was soon
-after admitted _ad eundem_ by the sister university. During all this
-time he had continued to cultivate assiduously the various branches of
-mathematical and physical science, and to extend his reputation both by
-his lectures and by his communications to the “Philosophical Club,” as
-it was called, which, in 1658, had been transferred to London, and
-usually met on the Wednesday of every week at Gresham College, in Wren’s
-class-room, and, on the Thursday, in that of his associate Rooke, the
-Professor of Geometry. The longitude, the calculation of solar eclipses,
-and the examination and delineation of insects and animalcula by means
-of the microscope, may be enumerated among the subjects to which he is
-known to have devoted his attention. On the 15th of July, 1662[3], he
-and his associates were incorporated under the title of the Royal
-Society; and Wren, who drew out the preamble of the charter, bore a
-chief part in the effecting of this arrangement.
-
-Footnote 3:
-
-  In the Life of Boyle this event is stated to have occurred in 1663. A
-  _second_ charter was granted to the Society, in that year, on the 22d
-  of April.
-
-The future architect of St. Paul’s had already been called upon to
-devote a portion of his time to the professional exercise of that art
-from which he was destined to derive his greatest and most lasting
-distinction. Sir John Denham, the poet, had on the Restoration been
-rewarded for his services by the place of Surveyor of the Royal Works;
-but although, in his own words, he then gave over poetical lines, and
-made it his business to draw such others as might be more serviceable to
-his Majesty, and he hoped more lasting, it soon became apparent that his
-genius was much better suited to “build the lofty rhyme” than to
-construct more substantial edifices. In these circumstances Wren, who
-was known among his other accomplishments to be well acquainted with the
-principles of architecture, was sent for, and engaged to do the duties
-of the office in the capacity of Denham’s assistant or deputy. This was
-in the year 1661. It does not appear that for some time he was employed
-in any work of consequence in his new character; and in 1663 it was
-proposed to send him out to Africa, to superintend the construction of a
-new harbour and fortifications at the town of Tangier, which had been
-recently made over by Portugal to the English Crown, on the marriage of
-Charles with the Infanta Catherine. This employment he wisely declined,
-alleging the injury he apprehended to his health from a residence in
-Africa. Meanwhile, the situation which he held, and his scientific
-reputation, began to bring him something to do at home. Sheldon,
-Archbishop of Canterbury, who was Chancellor of the University of
-Oxford, had resolved to erect at his own expense a new theatre, or hall,
-for the public meetings of the University; and this building Wren was
-commissioned to design. The Sheldonian Theatre, celebrated for its
-unrivalled roof of eighty feet in length by seventy in breadth,
-supported without either arch or pillar, was Wren’s first public work,
-having been begun this year, although it was not finished till 1668.
-About the same time he was employed to erect a new chapel for Pembroke
-College, in the University of Cambridge, to be built at the charge of
-his uncle, the Bishop of Ely.
-
-But, while he was about to commence these buildings, he was appointed to
-take a leading part in another work, which ultimately became the
-principal occupation of the best years of his life, and enabled him to
-afford to his contemporaries and to posterity by far the most
-magnificent display of his architectural skill and genius. Ever since
-the Restoration, the repair of the Metropolitan Cathedral of St. Paul’s,
-which during the time of the Commonwealth had been surrendered to the
-most deplorable desecration and outrage, had been anxiously
-contemplated; and on the 18th of April, 1663, letters patent were at
-length issued by the King, appointing a number of Commissioners, among
-whom Wren was one, to superintend the undertaking. Under their direction
-a survey of the state of the building was taken, and some progress was
-made in the reparation of its most material injuries, when, after the
-sum of between three and four thousand pounds had been expended, the
-great fire, which broke out on the night of Sunday, the 2d of September,
-1666, on the following day reduced the whole pile to a heap of ruins.
-
-A considerable part of the year before this Wren had spent in Paris,
-having proceeded thither, it would seem, about Midsummer, 1665, and
-remained till the following spring. The object of his visit was to
-improve himself in the profession in which he had embarked, by the
-inspection and study of the various public buildings which adorned the
-French capital, where the celebrated Bernini was at this time employed
-on the Louvre, with a thousand workmen under him, occupied in all the
-various departments of the art, and forming altogether, in Wren’s
-opinion, probably the best school of architecture to be then found in
-Europe. He appears accordingly to have employed his time, with his
-characteristic activity, in examining everything deserving of attention
-in the city and its neighbourhood; and lost no opportunity either of
-making sketches of remarkable edifices himself, or of procuring them
-from others, so that, as he writes to one of his correspondents, he
-hoped to bring home with him almost all France on paper. The terrible
-visitation, which a few months after his return laid half the metropolis
-of his native country in ashes, opened to him a much wider field whereon
-to exercise the talent which he had been thus eager to cultivate and
-strengthen by enlarged knowledge, than he could, while so engaged, have
-expected ever to possess. He was not slow to seize the opportunity; and
-while the ashes of the city were yet alive, drew up a plan for its
-restoration, the leading features of which were a broad street running
-from Aldgate to Temple Bar, with a large square for the reception of the
-new cathedral of St. Paul; and a range of handsome quays along the
-river. The paramount necessity of speed in restoring the dwellings of a
-houseless multitude, prevented the adoption of this project; and the new
-streets were in general formed nearly on the line of the old ones. But
-they were widened and straightened, and the houses were built of brick
-instead of wood.
-
-Soon after the fire, Wren was appointed Surveyor-General and principal
-Architect for rebuilding the parish churches; and on the 28th of March,
-1669, a few days after the death of Sir John Denham, he was made
-Surveyor-General of the Royal Works, the office which he had for some
-time executed as deputy. On the 30th of July he was unanimously chosen
-Surveyor-General of the repairs of St. Paul’s (another office which
-Denham had also held) by the commissioners appointed to superintend that
-work, of whom he was himself one. At first it was still thought possible
-to repair the cathedral; and a part of it was actually fitted up as a
-temporary choir, and service performed in it. After some time, however,
-it became evident that the only way in which it could ever be restored
-was by rebuilding the whole from the foundation. Before the close of the
-year 1672 Wren had prepared and submitted to the King different plans
-for the new church; and his Majesty having fixed upon the one which he
-preferred, a commission for commencing the work was issued on the 12th
-of November, 1673. On the 20th of the same month, Wren, who had been
-re-appointed architect for the work, and also one of the commissioners,
-was knighted at Whitehall, having resigned his professorship at Oxford
-in the preceding April.
-
-During the space of time which had elapsed since the fire, the
-Surveyor-General of Public Works had begun or finished various minor
-buildings connected with the restoration of the city, and also some in
-other parts of the kingdom. Among the former may be mentioned the fine
-column called the Monument; the church of St. Mary-le-Bow in Cheapside,
-the spire of which is considered the most beautiful he ever constructed,
-and a masterpiece of science, both begun in 1671, and finished in 1677;
-and the church of St. Stephens, Walbrook, begun 1672, and finished in
-1679, the interior of which is one of the most exquisite specimens of
-architectural art which the world contains, and has excited, perhaps,
-more enthusiastic admiration than anything else that Wren has done.
-During the whole of this time, too, notwithstanding the little leisure
-which his professional avocations must have left him, he appears to have
-continued his philosophical pursuits, and his attendance on the Royal
-Society, of which, from the first, he had been one of the most active
-and valuable members. His communications, and the experiments which he
-suggested, embraced some of the profoundest parts of astronomy and the
-mathematics, as well as various points in anatomy and natural history,
-and the chemical and mechanical arts.
-
-The design which Wren had prepared for the new Cathedral, and which had
-been approved by the King, being that of which a model is still
-preserved in an apartment over the Morning-Prayer Chapel, did not in
-some respects please the majority of his brother-commissioners, who
-insisted that, in order to give the building the true cathedral form,
-the aisles should be added at the sides as they now stand, although the
-architect is said to have felt so strongly the injury done by that
-alteration, that he actually shed tears in speaking of it. This
-difficulty, however, being at length settled, his Majesty, on the 14th
-May, 1675, issued his warrant for immediately commencing the work; and
-accordingly, after a few weeks more had been spent in throwing down the
-old walls and removing the rubbish, the first stone was laid by Sir
-Christopher, assisted by his master-mason, Mr. Thomas Strong, on the
-21st of June. From this time the building proceeded steadily till its
-completion in 1710; in which year the highest stone of the lantern on
-the cupola was laid by Mr. Christopher Wren, the son of the architect,
-as representing his venerable father, now in the seventy-eighth year of
-his age.
-
-The salary which Sir Christopher Wren received as architect of St.
-Paul’s was only £200 a year. Yet in the last years of his
-superintendence a moiety of this pittance was withheld from him by the
-Commissioners, under the authority of a clause which they had got
-inserted in an act of parliament entitling them to keep back the money
-till the work should be finished, by way of thereby ensuring the
-requisite expedition in the architect. Even after the building had been
-actually completed, they still continued, on the same pretence, to
-refuse payment of the arrears due, alleging that certain things yet
-remained to be done, which, after all, objections and difficulties
-interposed by themselves alone prevented from being performed. Like his
-great predecessor, Michael Angelo, Wren was too honest and zealous in
-the discharge of his duty not to have provoked the enmity of many
-persons who had their private ends to serve in the discharge of a great
-public duty. He was at last obliged to petition the Queen on the subject
-of the treatment to which he was subjected; but it was not till after a
-struggle of some years that he succeeded in obtaining redress. The
-faction by whom he was thus opposed even attempted to blacken his
-character by a direct charge of peculation, or at least of connivance at
-that crime, in a pamphlet entitled ‘Frauds and Abuses at St. Paul’s,’
-which appeared in 1712, and in reference to which Sir Christopher deemed
-it proper to appeal to the public in an anonymous reply published the
-year after, wherein he vindicated himself triumphantly from the
-aspersions which had been thrown upon him.
-
-The other architectural works which he designed and executed during this
-period, both in London and elsewhere, are far too numerous to be
-mentioned in detail. Among them were the parish church of St. Bride, in
-Fleet Street, which was finished in 1680, and the beautiful spire of
-which, originally two hundred and thirty-four feet in height, has been
-deemed to rival that of St. Mary-le-Bow; the church of St. James,
-Westminster, finished in 1683, a building in almost all its parts not
-more remarkable for its beauty than for its scientific construction; and
-of which the roof especially, both for its strength and elegance, and
-for its adaptation to the distinct conveyance of sound, has been
-reckoned a singularly happy triumph of art; and the church of St.
-Andrew, Holborn, a fine specimen of a commodious and an imposing
-interior: besides many others of inferior note. In 1696 he commenced the
-building of the present Hospital at Greenwich, of which he lived to
-complete the greater part. This is undoubtedly one of the most splendid
-erections of our great architect. Among his less successful works may be
-enumerated Chelsea Hospital, begun in 1682, and finished in 1690, a
-plain, but not an inelegant building; his additions to the Palace of
-Hampton Court, carried on from 1690 to 1694, which are certainly not in
-the best taste; and his repairs at Westminster Abbey, of which he was
-appointed Surveyor-General in 1698. In his attempt to restore and
-complete this venerable edifice, his ignorance of the principles of the
-Gothic style, and his want of taste for its peculiar beauties, made him
-fail perhaps more egregiously than on any other occasion. In 1679 he
-completed the Library of Trinity College, Cambridge, one of the most
-magnificent of his works; and in 1683, the Chapel of Queen’s College,
-and the Ashmolean Museum, at Oxford. The same year he began the erection
-of the extensive pile of Winchester Castle, originally intended for a
-royal palace, but now used as a military barrack. To these works are to
-be added a long list of halls for the city companies, and other public
-buildings, as well as a considerable number of private edifices. Among
-the latter was Marlborough House, Pall-Mall. Indeed scarcely a building
-of importance was undertaken during this long period which he was not
-called upon to design or superintend. The activity both of mind and body
-must have been extraordinary, which enabled him to accomplish what he
-did, not to speak of the ready and fertile ingenuity, and the
-inexhaustible sources of invention and science he must have possessed,
-to meet the incessant demands that were made for new and varying
-displays of his contriving skill. It appears, too, in addition to all
-this, that the duties imposed upon him by his place of Surveyor of
-Public Works, for which he only received a salary of £100 a year, were
-of an extremely harassing description, and must have consumed a great
-deal of his time. Claims and disputes as to rights of property, and
-petitions or complaints in regard to the infringement of the building
-regulations in every part of the metropolis and its vicinity, seem to
-have been constantly submitted to his examination and adjudication; and
-Mr. Elmes has printed many of his reports upon these cases from the
-original manuscripts, which afford striking evidence both of the
-promptitude with which he gave his attention to the numerous calls thus
-made upon him, and of the large expenditure of time and labour they must
-have cost him.
-
-The long series of years during which Wren was occupied in the
-accomplishment of his greatest work, and which had conducted him from
-the middle stage of life to old age, brought to him also of course
-various other changes. He had been twice married, and had become the
-father of two sons and a daughter, of whom the eldest, Christopher, was
-the author of Parentalia, or Memoirs of the Family of the Wrens. In
-1680, he was elected to the Presidency of the Royal Society, on its
-being declined by Mr. Boyle; and this honourable office he held for two
-years; during which, notwithstanding all his other occupations, we find
-him occupying the chair in person at almost every meeting, and still
-continuing to take his usual prominent part in the scientific
-discussions of the evening. In 1684 there was added to his other
-appointments that of Comptroller of the Works at Windsor. In May, 1685,
-he entered parliament as one of the members for Plympton; and he also
-sat for Windsor both in the convention which met after the revolution,
-and in the first parliament of William III. He afterwards sat for
-Weymouth in the parliament which met in February, 1700, and which was
-dissolved in November of the year following.
-
-The evening of Wren’s life was marked by neglect and ingratitude. In the
-eighty-sixth year of his age he was removed from the office of
-Surveyor-General, which he had held for forty-nine years, in favour of
-one Benson, whose incapacity and dishonesty soon led to his disgrace and
-dismissal. Fortunately Wren’s temper was too happy and placid to be
-affected by the loss of court favour, and he retired to his home at
-Hampton Court, where he spent the last five years of his life chiefly in
-the study of the Scriptures, and the revision of his philosophical
-works. He died February 25, 1723, in the ninety-first year of his age.
-
-More minute accounts of his life are to be found in the Parentalia,
-already mentioned, and in Mr. Elmes’s quarto volume. We may also refer
-the reader to a longer memoir in the Library of Useful Knowledge.
-
-[Illustration: Interior of St. Stephen’s, Walbrook.]
-
-[Illustration:
-
-  _Engraved by T. Woolnoth._
-
-  CORNEILLE.
-
-  _From an original Picture by C. Lebrun in the possession of the
-    Institute of France._
-
-  Under the Superintendance of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful
-    Knowledge.
-
-  _London. Published by Charles Knight, Pall Mall East._
-]
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration]
-
-                               CORNEILLE
-
-
-Peter Corneille was born at Rouen, on the 6th of June, 1606. His father
-was in the profession of the law, and held an office of trust under
-Louis XIII. Young Corneille was educated in the Jesuits’ College at
-Rouen; and, while there, formed an attachment to that society, which he
-maintained unimpaired in after-life. He was destined for the bar, at
-which he practised for a short time, but had no turn for business; and
-with better warrant than the many, who mistake a lazy and vagabond
-inclination for genius and the muse, he quitted the path of ambition and
-preferment for a road to fame, shorter, and therefore better suited to
-an aspiring, but impatient mind. A French writer congratulates his
-country, that he who would have made an obscure and ill-qualified
-provincial barrister, became, by change of place and pursuits, the glory
-and ornament of a great empire in its most splendid day. Corneille “left
-his calling for an idle trade,” without having bespoken the favour of
-the public by any minor specimens of poetical talent. He seems indeed to
-have hung loose upon society, till a petty affair of gallantry
-discovered the mine of his natural genius, though not in his purest and
-richest vein. The story is told by Fontenelle, and has been related of
-many others with nearly the same incidents; being the common-place of
-youthful adventure. One of Corneille’s friends had introduced him to his
-intended wife; and the lady, without any imputation of treachery on the
-part of the supplanter, took such a fancy to him, as induced her to play
-the jilt towards his introducer. Corneille moulded the embarrassment
-into a comedy entitled Melite. The drama had hitherto been at a low ebb
-among the French. Their tragedy was flat and languid: to comedy,
-properly so called, they had no pretensions. The theatre therefore had
-hitherto been little attended by persons of condition. Racine describes
-the French stage when Corneille began to write, as absolutely without
-order or regularity, taste or knowledge, as to what constituted the real
-merits of the drama. The writers, he says, were as ignorant as the
-spectators. Their subjects were extravagant and improbable; neither
-manners nor characters were delineated. The diction was still more
-faulty than the action; the wit was confined to the lowest puns. In
-short, all the rules of art, even those of decency and propriety, were
-violated. This description gives us the history of the infant drama in
-all ages and countries; of Thespis in his cart, and of Gammer Gurton’s
-needle.
-
-While the French theatre was in this state of degradation, Melite
-appeared. Whatever its faults might be, there was something in it like
-originality of character; some indications of a comic vein, and some
-ingenious combinations. The public hailed the new era with delight, and
-the poet was astonished at his own success. The stage seemed all at once
-to flourish and to have taken its proper station among the elegant arts
-and rational amusements. On the strength of this acquisition, a new
-company of actors was formed; and the successful experiment was followed
-up by a series of pieces of the same kind, between the years 1632 and
-1635. Imperfect as they were, we may trace in them some sketches of new
-character, which the more methodical and practised dramatists of a later
-period filled out with more skill and higher colouring, but with little
-claim to invention.
-
-We owe to Corneille one of the most entertaining personages in modern
-comedy,—the Chambermaid; who has succeeded to the office of the Nurse in
-the elder drama. This change was partly, perhaps principally, produced
-by that great revolution in the modern stage which introduced women upon
-the boards. While female characters were consigned to male
-representatives, the poet took every opportunity of throwing his
-heroines into breeches to slur over the awkwardness of the boys; and the
-subordinate instruments of the plot were duly enveloped in the hoods and
-flannels of decrepit age, while the hard features of the adult male were
-easily manufactured into wrinkles. But when once real women were brought
-forward, they had their own interests to manage as well as those of the
-author; and the artificial disguise of their persons would ill have
-accorded with those speculations, of which personal beauty formed a main
-ingredient. It was their business therefore, while they conducted the
-love-affairs of their mistresses, to interweave an underplot between
-themselves and the valets. Less attractive perhaps than their young
-ladies in outward show, they obtained compensation in the piquancy of
-wit intrusted to their delivery, and thus divided the interest among the
-spectators in no disadvantageous proportion.
-
-Corneille was also the first who brought the dialogue of polished
-society upon the French stage, which had hitherto been confined to the
-vulgarities of low comedy or the bombast of inflated tragedy. But it is
-time to rescue him from the obscurity of his own early compositions.
-
-His first tragedy was Medea, copied principally from the faulty model of
-Seneca, whose prolix declamation, thus early adopted, probably exercised
-an unfavourable influence on the after fortunes of the national tragedy.
-His nephew Fontenelle, indeed, says that “he took flight at once, and
-soared instantly to the sublime.” But this sentence has not been
-confirmed by more impartial critics. The Continent has condemned the
-witchcraft; but we are bound to uphold it in defence of our own
-Shakspeare, who has clothed his hags with more picturesque and awful
-attributes than the magnificent and imperial sorceries of Corneille,
-Seneca, or even Euripides himself have exhibited.
-
-The year 1637 was the era of the production of the Cid; the play not
-only of France, but of Europe, for it has been translated into most
-languages. But a sudden reputation involves its possessor in many
-vexations. Poets were in those days compelled to be courtiers, if they
-would prosper. At the Hotel de Rambouillet, an assembly was held,
-consisting of courtly and fashionable authors, who wasted their time in
-composing _thèses d’amour_ and other fopperies of romantic literature.
-Over this society, as well as over the politics of Europe, Richelieu
-chose to be umpire. He was also the founder of the French Academy, and
-the avowed patron of its members. With this hold upon their good
-manners, he kept four authors in pay, for the purpose of filling out his
-own dramatic and poetical skeletons. Corneille consented to be one of
-the party, and was so ignorant of the ways of courts as to fancy that he
-might exercise his judgment independently. He was even simple enough to
-be astonished that the well-meant liberty of making some alterations in
-the plot of one of these ministerial dramas should give offence: but as
-he was too proud to surrender his own judgment, or to risk future
-affronts from the revulsion of the Cardinal’s goodwill, he withdrew from
-the palace, and abandoned himself to uncontrolled intercourse with the
-Muse. Richelieu therefore became the principal instigator of a cabal,
-which the envy of the wits sufficiently inclined them to form. Under
-such auspices, they entered into a conspiracy against the uncourtly
-offender. The prime minister could not endure that the successful
-intriguer in political life should be taxed with failure in unravelling
-the intricacies of a fictitious interest: he therefore looked at the
-real defects in a performance approved by the public with a jaundiced
-eye, and with but a half-opened one at its unrivalled beauties. As
-universal patron, he had settled a pension on the poet; but he levelled
-insidious and clandestine shafts against his fame. The “irritable tribe”
-willingly ran to arms, with Scuderi at their head, who wrote hostile
-remarks on the Cid, addressed to the Academy in the form of an appeal,
-in the course of which he quaintly termed himself _the evangelist of
-truth_. According to the statutes of the Academy, that august body could
-not take upon itself the decision, without the consent of both parties.
-Corneille, however indignant professionally, was under too many personal
-obligations to the Cardinal to spurn the authority of a tribunal erected
-by him. He therefore gave his assent to the reference, but in terms of
-considerable haughtiness. The Academy drew up a critique, to which they
-gave the modest title of “Sentiments of the French Academy on the
-tragicomedy of the Cid.” In the execution of this delicate commission,
-the learned members contrived to reconcile the demands of sound taste
-and criticism with the tact and suppleness of courtiers. They gratified
-the splenetic temper of the minister by censures, the justice of which
-could not be gainsayed: but they praised the beauties of the great
-scenes with a nobleness of panegyric, which took from the author all
-right to complain of partiality. This solemn judgment was given after
-five months of debate and negotiation between the Cardinal and the
-academicians, who dreaded official frowns if they wholly acquitted, and
-public disgust if they condemned against evidence. If it be considered
-that this infant institution owed its birth to Richelieu, and depended
-on him for its future growth, the verdict is highly honourable to the
-individuals, and creditable to the literary character, even when
-disadvantageously circumstanced by being entangled in the trammels of a
-court.
-
-Our limits will not permit the examination of insulated passages, nor
-even individual tragedies: but independently of the splendour of the
-execution, other circumstances attending the career of the _Cid_
-produced a strong impression on the remainder of Corneille’s dramatic
-life. The Cid was taken from two Spanish plays, and several passages
-were actual translations; but not in sufficient number to invalidate the
-author’s claim to a large share of originality. To set that question at
-rest, in the editions published by himself, he gave the passages taken
-from the Spanish at the bottom of the page. Yet it was objected by his
-rivals and libellers, that the author of Medea and the Cid could only
-imitate or translate: that he had stolen the first of his tragedies from
-Seneca, the second from Guillen de Castro: a clever borrower, without a
-spark of tragic genius or invention! Unluckily for this bold assertion,
-among other European languages, this French play was translated into
-Spanish; and the nation, whence the piece was professedly derived,
-thought it worth while to recover it in the dress given to it by an
-illustrious foreigner. Against such unfounded censures it will be
-sufficient to quote the authority of Boileau, who speaks of the Cid as a
-_merveille naissante_.
-
-Having achieved his first great success on a Spanish subject and after a
-Spanish model, it is not improbable that, had all gone smoothly, he
-would have continued to draw his resources from the same fountain. But
-vexation and resentment, usually at variance with good policy, now
-conspired with it; and put him on seeking a new road to fame. He had, as
-it should seem, intended to transplant a succession of Spanish histories
-and fables, with all the entanglement of Spanish contrivance in the
-weaving of plots. But in weighing the objections started against his
-piece, he found that they applied rather to his Spanish originals than
-to his own adaptation; he therefore determined to cut the knot of future
-controversy, by adopting the severity of the classical model. To this we
-owe Horace, Pompée, Cinna, and Polyeucte;—masterpieces which his more
-polished but more feeble successors in vain aspired to emulate. Thus did
-this eager war of criticism produce a crisis in the dramatic history of
-France. Its stage would probably, but for this, have been heroic and
-chivalrous, not, as it is, Roman, and after the manner of the ancients.
-It might even have rivalled our own in tragicomedy;—that monster
-stigmatized by Voltaire as the offspring of barbarism, although, and
-perhaps because, he “pilfered snug” from it; and might hope, by
-undervaluing the article, to escape detection as the purloiner.
-
-At the end of three years, devoted to the study of the ancients, the
-injured author avenged the injuries levelled against the Cid by the
-production of Horace. Although the impetuous poet had not yet subdued
-his genius to the trammels of just arrangement, unity of action, and the
-other severe rules of the classic drama, such was the originality of
-conception, the force of character, and grandeur of sentiment displayed
-in this performance, that new views of excellence were opened to the
-astonished audience. Voltaire, with all the pedantry of mechanical
-criticism, objects to Horace, that in it there are three tragedies
-instead of one. Whatever may be the force of this objection with the
-French, it will weigh little with a people inured to the irregular
-sublimity and unfettered splendour of Shakspeare. Cinna redeemed many of
-the errors of Horace, and improved upon its various merits. The
-suffrages of the public were divided between it and Polyeucte, as the
-author’s masterpiece. But Dryden considered the Cid and China as his two
-best plays; and speaks of Polyeucte sarcastically, as “in matters of
-religion, as solemn as the long stops upon our organs.”
-
-Before the performance of Polyeucte, Corneille read it at the Hotel de
-Rambouillet. That tribunal affected sovereign authority in affairs of
-wit. Even the reputation of the author, now in all its splendour, could
-no further command the civilities of the critics, than to “damn with
-faint praise.” Some days afterwards, Voiture called on Corneille, and,
-after much complimentary circumlocution, took the liberty of just
-hinting, that its success was not likely to answer expectation: above
-all, that its _Christian spirit_ was calculated to give offence.
-Corneille, much alarmed, was about to withdraw it from rehearsal: the
-persuasions of an inferior player spirited him up to risk the
-consequences of avowing himself a Christian in an infidel court. Thus,
-probably, a hanger-on of the theatre had the honour of preventing a
-repetition of that malice, by which rival wits attempted to arrest the
-career of the Cid.
-
-The winter of 1641–42 produced La Mort de Pompée and Le Menteur.
-
-The opening of La Mort de Pompée has been frequently commended for
-grandeur of conception and originality; and the skill cannot be denied,
-by which the enunciation of the circumstances producing the interest of
-the piece is rendered consistent with the dignity of the subject and
-characters. The same praise cannot be conceded to the inflation of the
-dialogue and the intolerable length of the speeches. But the concluding
-speech of Cæsar to the second scene of the third act, and the whole of
-the fourth act, notwithstanding the censure of Dryden, both on this
-tragedy and the Cinna, that “they are not so properly to be called
-plays, as long discourses of reason and state,” may be selected as
-favourable specimens of the style and power of French dialogue.
-
-A short notice will be sufficient for the comedy of Corneille; and the
-production of Le Menteur, his most celebrated piece, affords the fittest
-opportunity. As the Cid was imitated from Guillen de Castro, Lopé de
-Vega furnished the groundwork of Le Menteur. It is considered to be the
-first genuine example of the comedy of intrigue and character in France;
-for Melite was at best but a mere attempt. Before this time, there was
-no unsophisticated nature, no conventional manners, no truth of
-delineation. Mirth was raised by extravagance, and curiosity by
-incidents bordering on the impossible. Corneille appealed to nature and
-to truth: however imperfect the execution, in comparison with that of
-his next successor in comedy, he proved that he knew how Thalia as well
-as Melpomene ought to be drawn. The greatest compliment, perhaps, that
-can be paid to his genius is, that he pointed out the road both to
-Racine and Moliere.
-
-The year 1645 gave birth to Rodogune, in which, having before touched
-the springs of wonder and pity, he worked on his audience by the more
-powerful engine of terror. His subsequent pieces were below his former
-level, and betrayed, not so much the decay of genius from the growing
-infirmities of nature, as that fatal mistake in _writing themselves
-out_, so common to authors in the province of imagination. The cold
-reception of Pertharite disgusted the poet, and he renounced the stage
-in a splenetic little preface to the printed play, complaining that “he
-had been an author too long to be a fashionable one.” The turmoil of the
-court and the gaiety of the theatre had not effaced his early sentiments
-of piety and religion; he therefore betook himself to the translation of
-Kempis’s Imitation of Jesus Christ, which he performed very finely. This
-gave rise to a ridiculous and unfounded story, that the first book was
-imposed on him as a penance; the second, by the Queen’s command; and the
-third, by the terrors of conscience during a severe illness.
-
-As the mortification of failure faded away with time, his passion for
-the theatre revived. Notwithstanding some misgivings, he was encouraged
-by Fouquet Destrin in 1659, after six years’ absence. He began again,
-with more benefit to his popularity than to his true fame, with
-Œdipus;—the noblest and most pathetic subject, most nobly treated, of
-ancient tragedy. La Toison d’Or came next; a spectacle got up for the
-King’s marriage;—a species of piece in which the poet always plays a
-subordinate part to the scene-painter and the dressmaker. Sertorius is
-to be noticed as having given scope to the fine declamatory powers of
-Mademoiselle Clairon, the Siddons of the French stage.
-
-Berenice rose to an unenviable fame, principally in consequence of the
-following circumstances. Henrietta of England, then Duchess of Orleans,
-whom Fontenelle had the good manners to compliment as “a princess who
-had a high relish for works of genius, and had been able to call forth
-some sparks of it _even in a barbarous country_,” privately set
-Corneille and Racine to work on the same subject. Their pieces were
-represented at the same time; and the struggle between a worn-out
-veteran and a champion in the vigour of youth, terminated, as might have
-been expected, in the victory of the latter. This literary contest was
-known by the title of “the duel.” The experiment proves the love of
-mischief, but says little for the good taste or benevolence of the royal
-instigator. Pulchérie and Surena were his last productions: both better
-than Berenice, with sufficient merit to render the close of his literary
-life respectable, if not splendid.
-
-The personal history of Corneille furnishes little anecdote; we have
-only further to state, that he was chosen a Member of the French Academy
-in 1647, and was Dean of that society at the time of his death, which
-took place in 1684, in his seventy-ninth year.
-
-He is said to have been a man of a devout and melancholy cast. He spoke
-little in company, even on subjects which his pursuits had made his own.
-The author of ‘Melanges d’Histoire et du Literature,’ a work published
-under the name of Vigneut Marville, but really written by the Pêre
-Bonaventure d’Ayounne, a Cistercian monk of Paris, says, that “the first
-time he saw him, he took him for a tradesman of Rouen. His conversation
-was so heavy as to be extremely tiresome if it lasted long.” But
-whatever might be the outward coarseness or dulness of the man, he was
-mild of temper in his family, a good husband, parent, and friend. His
-worth and integrity were unquestionable; nor had his connexion with the
-court, of which he was not fond, taught him that art of cringing so
-necessary to fortune and promotion. Hence his reputation was almost the
-only advantage accruing to him from his productions. His works have been
-often printed, and consist of more than thirty plays, tragedies and
-comedies.
-
-Those who wish for a more detailed account of this great writer will
-find it in his life, by Fontenelle, in Voltaire’s several prefaces, in
-Racine’s Speech to the French Academy on the admission of his brother
-Thomas, and in Bayle. Many scattered remarks on him may also be found
-throughout Dryden’s critical prefaces.
-
-[Illustration: Tragic Masks, from Pompeii.]
-
-[Illustration:
-
-  _Engraved by W. T. Fry._
-
-  HALLEY
-
-  _From an original Picture ascribed to Dahl in the possession of the
-    Royal Society._
-
-  Under the Superintendance of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful
-    Knowledge.
-
-  _London. Published by Charles Knight, Pall Mall East._
-]
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration]
-
-                                 HALLEY
-
-
-Edmund Halley, one of the greatest astronomers of an age which produced
-many, was born at a country house named Haggerston, in the parish of St.
-Leonard, Shoreditch, October 29, 1656. His father, a wealthy citizen and
-soap-boiler, intrusted the care of his son’s education to Dr. Gale,
-master of St. Paul’s School. Here young Halley applied himself to the
-study of mathematics and astronomy with what was then considered great
-success; for, before he left school, he understood the use of the
-celestial globe, and could construct a sun-dial; and, as he has himself
-informed us, had already observed the variation of the needle. In 1673,
-being in the seventeenth year of his age, he was entered of Queen’s
-College, Oxford, and two years afterwards gave the first proof of his
-astronomical genius by publishing, in the Philosophical Transactions,
-1676, “a direct and geometrical method of finding the Aphelia and
-Eccentricities of the Planets.” His father, who seems to have had none
-of that antipathy to a son’s engaging in literary or scientific
-pursuits, which is represented as common to men of commerce by the
-writers of that age, supplied him liberally with astronomical
-instruments. Thus assisted, he made many observations, particularly of
-Jupiter and Saturn, by means of which he discovered that the motion of
-Saturn was slower, and that of Jupiter quicker than could be accounted
-for by the existing tables; and made some progress in correcting those
-tables accordingly. But he soon found that nothing could be done without
-a good catalogue of the stars. This, it appears, he had some intention
-of forming; but finding that Hevelius and Flamsteed were already
-employed on the same work, he proposed to himself to proceed to the
-southern hemisphere, and to complete the design by observing those stars
-which never rise above the horizons of Dantzic and Greenwich. Having
-obtained his father’s consent, and an allowance of £300 a-year; and
-having fixed upon St. Helena as the most convenient spot, he applied to
-Sir Joseph Williamson and Sir Jonas Moor, the Secretary of State and the
-Surveyor of the Ordnance. These gentlemen represented his intention in a
-favourable light to Charles II., and also to the East-India Company, who
-promised him every assistance in their power. Thus protected, he set out
-for St. Helena in 1676; his principal instruments being a sextant of
-five feet and a half radius, and a telescope of twenty-four feet in
-length. He found the climate not so favourable as he had been led to
-believe, and moreover describes himself as disgusted with the treatment
-he received from the Governor. Under these disadvantages, he
-nevertheless formed a catalogue of 350 stars, which he afterwards
-published under the name of ‘Catalogus Stellarum Australium.’ He called
-a new constellation which he had observed, by the title of _Robur
-Carolinum_, in honour of the well-known oak of Charles II. While at St.
-Helena he also observed a transit of Mercury, and suggested the use
-which might be made of similar phenomena in the determination of the
-sun’s distance from the earth. He first observed the necessity of
-shortening the pendulum as it approached the equator; or, at least, when
-Hook afterwards mentioned the circumstance to Newton, it was the first
-time the latter had heard of the fact.
-
-Soon after his return to England, in November, 1678, Halley obtained the
-degree of M.A. from the University of Oxford, by royal mandate, and was
-elected Fellow of the Royal Society. This body had been requested by
-Hevelius to select some person who might add the southern stars to his
-catalogue. A dispute was also pending between him and Hook, as to the
-use of telescopes in observing the stars, to which the former objected.
-To aid Hevelius, as well as to decide upon the character of his
-observations, Halley went to Dantzic, and it is related, as a proof of
-the energy of his character, that in one month from the time of his
-landing in England he published his catalogue, procured a mandate, took
-the degree, was elected F.R.S., arranged to go to Dantzic, and wrote to
-Hevelius. He arrived on the 26th of May, 1679, and the same night
-entered upon a series of observations with Hevelius, which he continued
-till July, when he returned to England, fully satisfied of his
-coadjutor’s accuracy.
-
-In 1680 he again visited the continent. Between Paris and Calais he had
-a sight of the celebrated comet of that year, well known as the one by
-observations of which the orbit of these bodies was discovered to be
-nearly a parabola. He returned from his travels in the year 1681, and
-shortly after married the daughter of a Mr. Tooke then Auditor of the
-Exchequer, which union lasted fifty-five years. He settled at Islington,
-where, for more than ten years, he occupied himself with his usual
-pursuits, of the results of which we shall presently speak more
-particularly.
-
-In 1691 the Savilian Professorship of Astronomy became vacant, and, as
-Whiston relates, on the authority of Dr. Bentley, Bishop Stillingfleet
-was requested to recommend Mr. Halley. But the astronomer’s avowed
-disbelief of Christianity interfered with his election in this instance,
-and the Professorship was given to Dr. Gregory. It is related by Sir
-David Brewster that Halley, when inclined to enter upon religious
-subjects with Newton, always received a check in words like the
-following, “You have not studied the subject—I have.”
-
-After the above-mentioned failure, our astronomer received from King
-William the commission of Captain in the Navy, with command of a small
-vessel. The singularity of the reward need not surprise us, when the
-same monarch offered a company of dragoons to Swift: indeed the pursuits
-of Captain Halley were nearly akin to those of navigation, and he
-himself might be almost as well qualified for sailing, though perhaps
-not for fighting a ship, as most of his brother officers. In his new
-character Halley made two voyages, the first to the Mediterranean, the
-Brazils, and the West Indies, for the purpose of ascertaining the
-variation of the magnet, a subject in which he was much interested, and
-of which he afterwards published a chart; the second to ascertain the
-latitudes and longitudes of the principal points in the British Channel,
-and the course of the tides. In 1703 he was elected Savilian Professor
-of Geometry, on the death of the celebrated Wallis. He received, about
-the same time, the degree of Doctor of Laws, which is conferred without
-requiring subscription to the Articles of the Church. In his connexion
-with the University he superintended several parts of the edition of the
-Greek Geometers, which was printed at the University press.
-
-Halley succeeded Sir Hans Sloane, in 1713, as Secretary to the Royal
-Society; and, in 1719, on the death of Flamsteed, he was appointed
-Astronomer Royal at Greenwich. In this employment he continued till his
-death, under the patronage of Queen Caroline, wife of George II., who
-procured for him the half-pay of the rank he formerly held in the navy.
-In 1737 he was seized with a paralytic disorder; but nevertheless
-continued his labours till within a short time of his death, which took
-place in January, 1742, at the age of eighty-five. He was interred at
-Lee, near Blackheath, where a monument was erected to him and his wife
-by their two daughters.
-
-In person Dr. Halley was rather tall, thin, and fair, and remarkable as
-well for energy as vivacity of character. He cultivated the friendship
-and acquired the esteem of his most distinguished contemporaries, and
-particularly of Newton, spite of their very different opinions. Indeed
-it may be said that to him we owe, in some degree, the publication of
-the ‘Principia;’ for Halley being engaged upon the consideration of
-Kepler’s law, as it had been discovered by observation, viz., that the
-squares of the periodic times of planets are as the cubes of their
-distances, and suspecting that this might be accounted for on the
-supposition of a centripetal force, varying inversely as the square of
-the distance, applied himself to prove the connexion geometrically, in
-which he was unable to succeed. In this difficulty he applied to Hook
-and Wren, neither of whom could help him, and was recommended to consult
-Newton, then Lucasian Professor at Cambridge. Following this advice, he
-found in Newton all he wanted; and did not rest until he had persuaded
-his new acquaintance to give the results of his discoveries to the
-world. In about two years after this, the first edition of the
-‘Principia’ was published, and the proofs were corrected by Halley, who
-supplied the well-known Latin verses which stand at the beginning of the
-work.
-
-In conversation, Halley appears to have been of a jocose and somewhat
-satirical disposition. The following anecdote of him, which is told by
-Whiston, displays the usual modesty of the latter, when speaking of
-himself: “On my refusal from him of a glass of wine on a Wednesday or
-Friday, he said he was afraid I had a pope in my belly, which I denied,
-and added somewhat bluntly, that had it not been for the rise now and
-then of a Luther or a Whiston, he would himself have gone down on his
-knees to St. Winifred or St. Bridget, which he knew not how to
-contradict.” It is related that when Queen Caroline offered to obtain an
-increase of Halley’s salary as Astronomer Royal, he replied, “Pray, your
-Majesty, do no such thing, for should the salary be increased, it might
-become an object of emolument to place there some unqualified needy
-dependant, to the ruin of the institution.” And yet the sum which he
-would not suffer to be increased was only £100 a-year.
-
-To give even a catalogue of the various labours of Halley, would require
-more space than we can here devote to the subject. For a more detailed
-account both of his life and discoveries, we must refer the reader to
-the Biographia Britannica, to Delambre, Histoire de l’Astronomie au
-dix-huitième Siecle, livre II., and the Philosophical Transactions of
-the time in which he lived; or better perhaps to the Miscellanea
-Curiosa, _London_, 1726, a selection of papers from the Transactions,
-containing the most remarkable of those written by Halley. We shall,
-nevertheless, proceed briefly to notice a few of the discoveries on
-which the fame of our astronomer is built.
-
-The most remarkable of them, to a common reader, is the conjecture of
-the return of a comet. Some earlier astronomers, as Kepler, had imagined
-the motion of these bodies to be rectilinear. Newton, in explaining the
-principle of universal gravitation, showed how a comet might describe a
-parabola, and also how to calculate its motion, and compare it with
-observation. Hevelius had already indicated the curvature of a comet’s
-path, and Dörfel, a Saxon clergyman, had calculated the path of the
-comet of 1680 upon this supposition. Halley, in computing the parabolic
-elements of all the comets which had been well observed up to his time,
-suspected, from the general likeness of the three, that the comets of
-1531, 1607, and 1682, were the same. He was the more confirmed in this,
-by knowing that comets had been seen, though no good observations were
-recorded, in the years 1305, 1380, and 1456, giving, with the former
-dates, a chain of differences of 75 and 76 years alternately. Halley
-supposed, therefore, that the orbit of this comet was, not a parabola,
-but a very elongated ellipse, and that it would return about the year
-1758. The truth of his conjecture was fully confirmed in January, 1759,
-by Messier. The first person, however, who saw Halley’s comet, as it is
-now called, was George Palitzch, a farmer in the neighbourhood of
-Dresden, who had studied astronomy by himself, and fitted up a small
-observatory.
-
-But a much more useful exertion of Halley’s genius and power of
-calculation is to be found in his researches on the lunar theory. It is
-to him that we are indebted for first starting the idea of finding the
-longitude at sea by means of the moon’s place, which is now universally
-adopted. The principle of this problem is as follows. An observer at sea
-can readily find the time of day by means of the sun or a star, and can
-thereby correct a watch. If he could at the same moment in which he
-finds his own time, also discover that at Greenwich, the difference
-between the two, turned into degrees, minutes, and seconds, would be his
-longitude east or west of Greenwich. If, therefore, he carries with him
-a Nautical Almanac, in which the times of various astronomical phenomena
-are registered, as they will take place at Greenwich, or rather as they
-will be seen by an observer placed at the centre of the earth with a
-Greenwich clock, he can observe any one of these phenomena, and reduce
-it also to the centre. He will then know the corresponding moments of
-time, for his own position and that of Greenwich. The moon traverses the
-whole of its orbit in little more than 27 days, and therefore moves
-rapidly with respect to the fixed stars, its motion being nearly a whole
-sign of the zodiac in 48 hours. If we observe the distance between the
-moon and a star, and find it to be ten degrees, the longitude of the
-place in which the observation is made can be known as aforesaid, if the
-almanac will tell what time it was at Greenwich when the moon was at
-that same distance from the star. In the time of Halley, though it was
-known that the moon moved nearly in an ellipse, yet the elements of that
-ellipse, and the various irregularities to which it is subject, were
-very imperfectly ascertained. It had, however, been known even from the
-time of the Chaldeans, that some of these irregularities have a
-_period_, as it is called, of little more than eighteen years, that is,
-begin again in the same order after every eighteen years; the periods
-and quantities of several other errors had also been discovered with
-something like accuracy. To make good lunar tables, that is, tables from
-which the place of the moon might be correctly calculated beforehand,
-became the object of Halley’s ambition. He therefore observed the moon
-diligently during the whole of one of the periods of eighteen years,
-that is, from the end of 1721 to that of 1739, and produced tables which
-were published in 1749, after his death, and were of great service to
-astronomers. He also made another observation on the motion of the moon,
-which has since given rise to one of the finest discoveries of Laplace.
-In calculating from our tables the time of an ancient eclipse, observed
-at Babylon, B. C. 720, he found that, had the tables been correct, it
-would have happened three hours sooner than, according to Ptolemy, it
-did happen. This might have arisen from an error in the Babylonian
-observation; but on looking at other eclipses, he found that the ancient
-ones always happened later than the time indicated by his table, and
-that the difference became less and less as he approached his own time.
-From hence he concluded that the moon’s average daily motion is subject
-to a very small acceleration, so that a lunar month at present is in a
-very slight degree shorter than a month in the time of the Chaldeans.
-This was afterwards shown by Laplace to arise from a very slow
-diminution in the eccentricity of the earth’s orbit, caused by the
-attraction of the planets. For a further account of Halley’s
-astronomical labours, we may refer to the History of Astronomy in the
-Library of Useful Knowledge, page 79.
-
-We must also ascribe to Halley the first correct application of the
-barometer to the measurement of the heights of mountains. Mariotte, who
-first enunciated the remarkable law that the elastic forces of gases are
-in the inverse proportion of the spaces which they occupy, had
-previously given a formula for the determination of these same heights,
-entirely wrong in principle, and inapplicable in practice. Halley, whose
-profound mathematical knowledge made him fully equal to the task,
-investigated and discovered the common formula, which, with some
-corrections for the temperature of the mercury in the barometer and the
-air without it, is in use at this day. We have already mentioned that
-Halley sailed to various parts of the earth with a view to determine the
-variation of the magnet. The result of his labours was communicated to
-the Royal Society in a map of the lines of equal variation, and also of
-the course of the trade-winds. He attempted to explain the phenomena of
-the compass by supposing that the earth is one great magnet, having four
-poles, two near each pole of the equator; and further accounts for the
-variation which the compass undergoes from year to year in the same
-place, by imagining a magnetic sphere, interior to the surface of the
-earth, which nucleus or inner globe turns on an axis with a velocity of
-rotation very little differing from that of the earth itself. This
-hypothesis has shared the fate of many others purely mathematical; that
-is, invented to show how the observed phenomena might be produced,
-without any ground of observation for believing that they really are so
-produced. If we put together the astronomical and geographical
-discoveries of Halley, and remember that the former were principally
-confined to those points which bear upon the subjects of the latter, we
-shall be able to find a title for their author less liable to cavil than
-that of the Prince of Astronomers, which has sometimes been bestowed
-upon him; we may safely say that no man, either before or since, has
-done more to improve the theoretical part of navigation, by the diligent
-observation alike of heavenly and earthly phenomena.
-
-We pass over many minor subjects, such as his improvement of the
-diving-bell, or his measurement of the quantity of fluid abstracted by
-evaporation from the sea, to come to an application of science in which
-he led the way,—the investigation of the law of mortality. From
-observations communicated to the Royal Society of the births and deaths
-in the city of Breslau, he constructed the first table of mortality,
-which was in a great measure the foundation of the celebrated hypothesis
-of De Moivre, that the decrements of human life are nearly equal at all
-ages; that is, that out of eighty-six persons born, one dies every year,
-until all are gone. Halley’s table as might be expected, was not very
-applicable to human life in England, either then or now, but the effect
-of example is conspicuous in this instance. Before the death of Halley
-the tables of Kerseboom were published, and four years afterwards, those
-of De Parcieux.
-
-We will not enlarge on the purely mathematical investigations of Halley,
-which would possess but little interest for the general reader. We may
-mention, however, his method for the solution of equations, his ‘Analogy
-of the Logarithmic Tangents to the Meridian Line, or sum of the
-secants,’ his algebraic investigation of the place of the focus of a
-lens, and his improvement of the method of finding logarithms. From the
-latter we quote a sentence, which, to the reader, for whose benefit we
-have omitted entering upon any discussion of these subjects, will appear
-amusing enough, if indeed he does not shrink to see how much he has
-degenerated from his ancestors. After describing a process which
-contains calculation enough for most people; and which further directs
-to multiply sixty figures by sixty figures, he adds, “If the curiosity
-of any gentleman that has leisure, would prompt him to undertake to do
-the logarithms of all prime numbers under 100,000 to 25 or 30 figures, I
-dare assure him that the facility of this method will invite him
-thereto; nor can anything more easy be desired. And to encourage him, I
-here give the logarithms of the first prime numbers under 20 to 60
-places.” One look at these encouraging rows of figures would be
-sufficient for any but a calculating boy.
-
-No one who is conversant with the mathematics and their applications can
-read the life of the mathematicians of the seventeenth century without a
-strong feeling of respect for the manner in which they overcame
-obstacles, and of gratitude for the labour which they have saved their
-successors. The brilliancy of later names has, in some degree, eclipsed
-their fame with the multitude; but no one acquainted with the history of
-science can forget, how with poor instruments and imperfect processes,
-they achieved successes, but for which Laplace might have made the first
-rude attempts towards finding the longitude, and Lagrange might have
-discovered the law which connects the coefficients of the binomial
-theorem. But even of these men the same thing may one day be said; and
-future analysts may wonder how Laplace, with his paltry means of
-investigation, could account for the phenomenon of the acceleration of
-the moon’s motion; and future astronomers may, should such a sentence as
-the present ever meet their eyes, be surprised that the observers of the
-nineteenth century should hold their heads so high above those of the
-seventeenth.
-
-[Illustration:
-
-  _Engraved by W. Holl._
-
-  SULLY.
-
-  _From the original Picture by an unknown Artist in the private
-    collection of Louis Philippe, King of the French._
-
-  Under the Superintendance of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful
-    Knowledge
-
-  _London. Published by Charles Knight, Pall Mall East._
-]
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration]
-
-                                 SULLY
-
-
-The Duc de Sully is celebrated as the companion, minister, and historian
-of Henry IV., the most popular of French monarchs. Eminent among his
-contemporaries both as a soldier and as a financier, it is his especial
-glory that he laboured to promote the welfare of the industrious
-classes, when other statesmen regarded them but as the fount from which
-royal extravagance was to be supplied.
-
-Maximilian, son of François de Bethune, Baron de Rosny, and of Charlotte
-Dauvet, daughter of a President of the Chamber of Accounts at Paris, was
-born at Rosny in the year 1559. His family was ancient, illustrious, and
-once wealthy, but his paternal grandfather had almost ruined it by his
-extravagance, his maternal grandfather disinherited him because he
-embraced the reformed religion; and with a slight annual allowance young
-Rosny had to seek his own fortune in the extravagant profession of arms.
-By a sage economy and order he, however, supported himself, and escaped
-the dependence and dishonour consequent on extravagance in a poor man.
-When thirteen years of age he was presented by his father to the young
-Prince of Navarre, who was only seven years older than himself, and who
-at once conceived that affection for him which was destined to cease
-only with his own life.
-
-On the memorable day of St. Bartholomew, Rosny was in Paris, engaged in
-the prosecution of his studies. A known member of the Protestant Church,
-his life was in jeopardy: his servant and his tutor fell victims to the
-rage of the Papists, and he himself, obliged to quit his chambers for a
-safer hiding-place, and exposed to imminent dangers in traversing the
-streets, owed his deliverance more than once to a union of courage and
-coolness not very common in a youth of thirteen. After this event he, as
-well as his patron and friend Henry of Navarre, conformed for a time to
-the observances of the Roman Catholic religion; but in 1576, when Henry
-escaped from the thraldom in which he had been held, abjured Catholicism
-and placed himself at the head of a Protestant army, Rosny was the
-companion of his flight, and first began to carry arms in his service.
-His noble birth, and the favour of his master, would at once have
-secured him military rank, but Rosny preferred to serve as a simple
-volunteer, in order, as he said, to learn the art of war by its
-elements.
-
-At the surprise of Réde, at the siege of Villefranche, at the taking of
-Eause and Cahors, at the battle of Marmande, and in all the dangerous
-affairs in which Henry engaged, Rosny was always at his side. His good
-services, and the affection borne him by his master, did not, however,
-prevent a quarrel, which, it must be said, was provoked by his own
-imprudence and aggravated by his own pride. In spite of the commands of
-the Prince of Navarre, who had wisely prohibited the practice of
-referring private quarrels to the arbitrement of the sword, Rosny acted
-as second in a duel, in which one of the principals was desperately
-wounded. The Prince’s anger at the breach of discipline was exasperated
-by a strong personal regard for the wounded man. He sent for Sully,
-rebuked him in harsh terms, and said that he deserved to lose his head
-for what he had done. The pride of the young soldier was touched; he
-replied that he was neither vassal nor subject of Navarre, and would
-henceforth seek the service of a more grateful master. The Prince
-rejoined in severe terms and turned his back on him; and Rosny was
-quitting the court, when the Queen, who knew his value, interfered, and
-reconciled him with her son.
-
-Not long after he quitted Henry’s service, alleging that he had pledged
-his word to accompany the Duc d’Alençon, afterwards Duc d’Anjou, brother
-of Henry III., in his contest for the sovereignty of Flanders; where, in
-case of success, he was to be put in possession of the estates which had
-belonged to his maternal grandfather. In this campaign he gained neither
-honour nor profit, and soon returned to his original master. Henry
-received him with open arms, and, as if to prove that absence had not
-affected his confidence and esteem, sent him a few days after on an
-important mission to Paris.
-
-In the troubled times which followed, Rosny was unshaken in devotion to
-the cause which he had espoused. He accompanied Henry, when that prince,
-with only nineteen followers, threw himself, as a last resource, into La
-Rochelle. He undertook an embassy from that city to Henry III., then
-almost as much persecuted by the League as the King of Navarre himself.
-In his Memoirs he has left a striking description of the degraded
-condition of that sovereign, who had entirely abandoned himself to
-favourites and menials of the court. “His Majesty was in his cabinet; he
-had his sword by his side, a hood thrown over his shoulders, a little
-bonnet on his head, and a basket full of little dogs hung round his neck
-by a broad riband.” He listened to Rosny with vacant stupidity, neither
-moving his feet, his hands, nor his head. When he spoke, he complained
-of the audacity and insults of the League—said that nothing would go
-well in France until the King of Navarre went to mass—but agreed,
-finally, that Rosny might treat with the envoys of the Protestant
-Cantons of Switzerland, in his name as well as the King of Navarre’s,
-for the raising of twenty thousand Swiss troops, to be employed between
-the two sovereigns.
-
-Henry, through his imprudence, lost all the advantages which his
-faithful servant’s treaty with the Swiss might have secured to him; but
-neither disgusted nor dispirited by this folly, Rosny persevered in his
-attachment to a cause which seemed altogether desperate to most others.
-He was at the siege of Fontenay, and at the brilliant victory of
-Coutras, for which the King of Navarre was materially indebted to the
-artillery under Rosny’s command. His next great undertaking was to
-effect an entire reconciliation between his master and the King of
-France. Having succeeded in this, the eyes of all France thenceforward
-rested upon him as the only man who could re-establish the distracted
-kingdom. Such was the enthusiasm of many of the French at the time, that
-they called him “Le Dieu Rosny.”
-
-The desired reconciliation had not long been made when Henry III. was
-assassinated by a fanatic monk, and the King of Navarre laid claim to
-the vacant throne. But much remained to be done ere he could tranquilly
-seat himself upon it. His religion was an insurmountable obstacle to the
-mass of the nation, and the League was all-powerful in many parts of
-France and held possession of Paris.
-
-Rosny fought with his accustomed valour at the battles of Arques and
-Ivry. At the latter he well nigh lost his life: he received five wounds,
-had two horses killed under him, and fell at last among a heap of slain.
-The manner in which he retired from this field, with four prisoners of
-the highest distinction and the standard of the enemy’s
-commander-in-chief, is one of the most romantic incidents to be found in
-authentic history.
-
-After the victory of Ivry, Rosny did not receive the rewards he merited,
-and he remained for some time at his estate under pretence of ill
-health, but secretly disinclined to return to the service of one who had
-shown little real gratitude for his long and faithful adherence. No
-sooner, however, did he learn that Henry was about to undertake the
-siege of Paris, than he left his retreat and hastened again to his
-master’s side. His wounds were still uncured: he appeared before the
-King leaning on crutches and with an arm in a sling. Touched by his
-devotedness and his melancholy state, Henry loaded him with caresses,
-and insisted that he should not expose himself for the present but
-remain near his person to assist him with his counsels.
-
-When Henry first meditated his recantation of the Protestant faith, he
-consulted Rosny on this all-important subject. The honest soldier after
-reviewing the state of the parties opposed to the King, and holding out
-the hope that they would disagree among themselves and fall to pieces,
-said, “With regard to your change of religion, it cannot be otherwise
-than advantageous to you, seeing that your enemies have no other pretext
-for their hostility, but, sire, it is between you and your conscience to
-decide on this important article[4].” Shortly after this conversation
-the death of the Duke of Parma relieved Henry from one of his most
-formidable enemies; but the implacable Leaguers, now becoming meanly
-desperate, laid plots against his life, and, it is said, even sent
-assassins to Mantes, where the King was residing. Henry thought to
-provide for his personal safety by continually surrounding himself by a
-corps of faithful English soldiers who were in his service; but Rosny,
-knowing the craft and audacity of fanaticism, and warned of the danger
-which menaced the competitor for the crown by the untimely fate of its
-last wearer, was kept in a state of continual alarm. At last, sinking
-his attachment to the reformed religion in his attachment to his King
-and his friend, he supplicated, on his knees, that he would conform to
-the doctrines of the Roman Catholic Church. And this the King did almost
-immediately after. Rosny continued a Protestant. Many of the cities of
-France now submitted to Henry, but Rouen, one of the most important of
-the number, was only gained over by the skilful negotiations of Rosny,
-who shortly after treated, and with equal success, with the Duke de
-Bouillon, the Duke de Guise, and other formidable enemies of the King.
-In return for these valuable services, he was admitted into the Councils
-of War and Finance, where his honesty and the favour of his master soon
-roused the corrupt and jealous members of those departments of
-government against him. So great, indeed, were his annoyances that in
-the absence of Henry he withdrew again to his estates, and was only
-induced to return to his post by a personal visit from his sovereign.
-
-Footnote 4:
-
-  Mémoires de Sully.
-
-The King, who was now strong enough to attack the Spaniards in their
-dominions in the Low Countries, laid siege to Arras: but through the bad
-conduct of those who administered the finances of the state, he not only
-found himself unprovided with all that was necessary to prosecute his
-undertaking with success, but was left in a state of entire and even
-personal destitution. In these difficulties he called Rosny to his
-assistance, and placed him at the head of the finances. Under the new
-minister’s able and honest management, affairs soon changed their
-aspect: the treasury was replenished, while at the same time the people
-found their burdens lightened by economy. Rosny had prepared himself for
-this office, in the discharge of which he became a true benefactor of
-France, by a profound study of accounts and of the revenues and
-resources of the country; and when the post was given to him, for a
-considerable time he laboured night and day to detect the impolicy and
-the peculation of those who preceded him, and to re-establish the
-finances of the country.
-
-In 1601 Rosny visited England, under pretence of travelling for his
-amusement, but in reality to ascertain the political views, and to
-secure the friendship of Elizabeth. On the Queen’s death, a formal
-embassy to James I. was contemplated, but a dangerous illness which the
-King suffered at Fontainebleau delayed this measure. Henry, who thought
-he was dying, sent for the long-tried Rosny to his bed-side, and in his
-presence he desired the Queen to retain his faithful minister, as the
-welfare of herself, her family, and of the nation were dear to her. The
-King, however, recovered, and in the month of June, 1603, Rosny, with a
-numerous suite, departed on his mission. After a residence of several
-weeks in England, he succeeded in concluding an advantageous treaty with
-James I.
-
-The following year he composed a treatise on religious tolerance, which
-he at one time hoped might reconcile the animosities of the Catholics
-and Protestants. If he failed in this, he left an example, rare at that
-time, of an enlightened and liberal spirit. Shortly after he wrote a
-memorial indicating the means by which the commerce and finances of
-France might be still further improved. At that time the political
-sciences could scarcely be said to exist; and it is not to be supposed
-that the minister’s views were at all times just and enlarged. They
-show, at all events, that he looked to the industry of the people as the
-source of national wealth; and to their welfare as one, at least, of the
-objects of government. “Tillage and pasturage,” it was a favourite
-saying of his, “are the two paps by which France is nourished—the real
-treasures of Peru.” To manufactures he was less favourable, and his
-obstinacy on this head retarded many of Henry’s schemes for the
-encouragement of national industry. His real glory as a minister is to
-be sought in the exactness which he introduced into the management of
-the finances; and in the vigour with which he repressed peculation in
-his subordinates, and gave the whole weight of his influence to check
-the needless expenditure of a profligate court, to curtail those feudal
-claims which bore hardest on the vassals, and to oppose all privileges
-and monopolies, commonly bestowed upon courtiers in those days, which
-cramp the prosperity of a nation, to put a comparatively trifling sum
-into the pocket of a single person. One day the Duchesse de Verneuil,
-one of Henry’s favourites, remonstrated with him for his severity in
-this respect, alleging that the King had a good right to make presents
-to his mistresses and nobility. His answer should be generally known.
-“This were well, Madam, if the King took the money from his own purse;
-but it is against reason to take it from the shopkeepers, artisans, and
-agricultural labourers, since it is they who support the King and all of
-us, and they would be well content with a single master, without having
-so many cousins, relations, and mistresses to maintain.” His enemies
-insinuated that in the service of the state he had not neglected his own
-interest; and it is certain that he acquired immense wealth. Cardinal
-Richelieu, however, no friend to him, contents himself with the
-insinuation that if the last years of his administration were less
-austere than the first, it could not, at least, be said that they were
-profitable to himself without being very profitable to the state also.
-
-To his other offices he added those of Grand Master of the Ordnance, and
-Surveyor-General of Public Works. The artillery had always been a
-favourite branch of the service with him; and he was esteemed one of the
-best generals of the age for the attack or defence of fortified places.
-As Master of the Ordnance he mainly contributed to the success of the
-war with the Duke of Savoy. The army was well paid and provided, the
-artillery always at its place at the proper time, and a general reform
-was felt throughout the service. In peace he was not less active in
-superintending the construction and repair of fortifications; and in
-those still more valuable labours which tend to facilitate intercourse,
-and provide for the internal wants of a nation. One of his chief works
-was a canal to join the Seine and Loire. There were few good engineers
-in those times, and Rosny, with his usual industry and earnestness, went
-himself to the spot and superintended the commencement of the work he
-had projected.
-
-In 1606, after many brief quarrels between him and his master, caused
-chiefly by the intrigues of Henry’s mistresses and worthless courtiers,
-Rosny was created Duc de Sully and a Peer of France.
-
-The licentiousness of the King, and the power he allowed his mistresses
-to obtain over him, had continually thwarted Sully and undone much of
-the good they had together proposed and executed. The minister’s
-remonstrances were frequent, bold, and at times even violent; indeed,
-his whole life had been distinguished by an honest bluntness; but the
-propensities of the amorous monarch were incurable, and his faithful
-servant had the mortification of seeing him disgrace the last years of
-his life by an infatuation for the Princess of Condé. Henry had already
-determined on a war with his old enemies the Spaniards, when the flight
-of this lady with her husband, who took refuge in the states of the
-house of Austria, induced him to hurry on his preparations to attack
-both the Emperor and the King of Spain. Sully, at this time, had amassed
-forty millions of livres in the treasury of the state, and he engaged
-moreover to increase this sum to sixty or to seventy millions without
-laying on any new taxes. He had also provided the most numerous and
-magnificent corps of artillery that had ever been seen in Europe. But in
-the midst of these grand preparations Henry’s mind was agitated by his
-insane passion for the Princess of Condé, and oppressed by a
-presentiment of his fate. He was indeed told on every hand that plots
-were laid against his life; his romantic courage forsook him, he became
-absent and suspicious, and at last distrusted even his faithful
-minister.
-
-Sully now no longer saw his master except at short intervals, and lived,
-retired from the court, at the Arsenal, his official residence as Grand
-Master of the Artillery.
-
-The naturally confident and noble nature of Henry, and his old
-attachment for the sharer in all his fortunes, triumphed however over
-his weaknesses and illusions, and he determined to pay Sully a visit and
-to excuse himself for his late coldness. With these amiable intentions
-the King left his palace, and was on his way to the Arsenal in an open
-carriage, when he was stabbed to the heart by the fanatic Ravaillac.
-
-On the death of Henry IV. Sully would have continued his valuable
-services under the Queen-widow, Mary de’ Medici, who was appointed
-Regent, but that Princess resigning herself and the government of the
-state to intriguing Italians, headed by the unpopular Concini, the
-honest and indignant minister quitted office and the court for ever, and
-retired to his estates.
-
-The life Sully led in his retreat was most rational and dignified.
-Unmoved by the ingratitude of the court, of which he was continually
-receiving fresh proofs, he continued to love the country he had so long
-governed; and though a zealous Protestant to the last, he would never
-join in the intrigues of the Hugonots, which he dreaded might renew the
-horrors of civil war. To find occupation for his active mind he dictated
-his Memoirs to four secretaries, whom, for many years, he retained in
-his service, and who, in the ‘Economies Royales,’ better known under the
-title of ‘Mémoires de Sully,’ preserved not only the most interesting
-details of the life of their noble master and of Henry IV., but the
-fullest account of the history and policy, manners and customs, of the
-age in which Sully lived. Neither the occupations of war nor of
-politics, in which he had been absorbed for thirty-four years, had
-eradicated his original taste for polite literature; and in his
-retirement he composed many pieces not only in prose but in verse. One
-of his poetical compositions, which is a parallel between Henry IV. and
-Julius Cæsar, was translated into Latin and much admired throughout
-Europe.
-
-After having lived thirty years in this retirement, the great Sully
-expired at his Château of Villebonne, in the eighty-second year of his
-age, on the 22d December, 1641—the same year in which Lord Strafford,
-the minister of Charles I., was beheaded in London, and in which the
-grave closed over the widow of Henry IV., Mary de’ Medici, who died at
-Cologne in obscurity and great poverty.
-
-It is to be regretted that no author has yet produced a life of Sully
-worthy of the subject. The ‘Economies Royales’ is the great storehouse
-of information, but its prolixity and singularity of style render it
-little attractive to the general reader. The following works, however,
-may be consulted:—’Les Vies des Hommes Illustres de la France,’ by M.
-D’Auvigny, and the memoir in the ‘Biographie Universelle.’
-
-[Illustration]
-
-[Illustration:
-
-  _Engraved by J. Posselwhite._
-
-  N. POUSSIN.
-
-  _From the original Picture by himself in the Gallery of the Louvre._
-
-  Under the Superintendance of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful
-    Knowledge.
-
-  _London. Published by Charles Knight, Pall Mall East._
-]
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration]
-
-                                POUSSIN
-
-
-Truth and compliment are happily united in Poussin’s observation to a
-noble amateur, “You wanted but the stimulus of necessity to have become
-a great painter.” The artist had himself felt this stimulus, and he knew
-its value in producing resolution and habits of industry. His family was
-noble, but indigent: John, his father, a native of Soissons, and a
-soldier of fortune, served during the reigns of Charles IX., Henry III.,
-and Henry IV., with more reputation than profit. At last, finding that
-in the trade of arms his valour was likely to be its own reward, he
-married the widow of a solicitor, resigned his military employments, and
-fixed his abode at Andelys in Normandy, where, in June 1594, his son
-Nicholas, the subject of the present memoir, was born.
-
-The district in which Andelys is situated is remarkable for its
-picturesque beauty, and from the scenery which surrounded him the genius
-of Poussin drew its first inspiration. His sketches of landscape
-attracted the notice and commendation of Quintin Varin, an artist
-residing in the neighbourhood. Animated by praise, young Poussin
-earnestly solicited his father that he might become Varin’s pupil: a
-request to which the prudent parent, after long hesitation, reluctantly
-acceded. He knew that in such a pursuit as that of the fine arts, much
-of the aspirant’s life must be expended before a just estimate of his
-professional talents can be formed, and that even where talent exists,
-the success of the possessor is not always commensurate to its claims.
-The youth, however, was fortunate in meeting, in the first instance,
-with a preceptor whose instructions, founded on just principles, left
-him nothing to unlearn. He remained with Varin until his eighteenth
-year, when he went to Paris, and studied under Ferdinand Elle, and
-L’Allemand, two artists then in fashion, from whom he learned nothing.
-In the mean time he had become acquainted with several persons who
-appreciated his dawning talents, and felt an interest in his fortunes.
-Among the rest, a young nobleman of Poitou manifested an almost
-fraternal attachment towards him, relieved his pecuniary wants, and
-among other services introduced him to Courtois, the King’s
-mathematician, who possessed a fine collection of prints by Marc
-Antonio, and a great number of drawings and sketches by Raffaelle,
-Giulio Romano, and other great masters of the Roman school. These
-treasures Poussin studied and copied with sedulous zeal and attention,
-and he was frequently heard to advert to this circumstance as one of the
-most fortunate of his life, inasmuch as the contemplation of these fine
-examples had fixed his taste, and determined the bent of his powers
-towards the higher branches of art, at a time when his mind was
-fluctuating between the attractions of different schools.
-
-The young Poitevin, being summoned to return home, invited Poussin to
-become his companion, and to undertake a series of pictures, calculated,
-by its extent as well as its excellence, to do honour to his paternal
-mansion. But his mother regarded the fine arts and those who patronised
-them with equal and unqualified contempt: and suffering in her house the
-exercise of none but what she considered useful talents, she assigned to
-Poussin the office of house-steward, and his visions of fame were at
-once dispelled by the humble occupation of overlooking the servants, and
-keeping accounts. It may easily be supposed that the young artist did
-not deport himself very meekly under the new appointments which had thus
-unexpectedly been thrust upon him. Without asking the sympathy or
-assistance even of his friend, who, it would appear, had acquiesced too
-readily in his mother’s arrangements, he quitted the house and made his
-way to Paris on foot; having no other means of support on the road than
-the extemporaneous productions of his pencil. In consequence of the
-hardships which he experienced during this journey, he was attacked by a
-fever on reaching Paris, which obliged him to return to Andelys. After
-the lapse of a year, having recruited his health, he made arrangements
-to execute a long-cherished purpose of a journey to Rome. But with an
-improvidence not uncommon in artists, and sometimes falsely said to be
-characteristic of genius, he calculated his resources so inaccurately
-that in two successive attempts he was obliged to return, leaving his
-purpose unaccomplished. In the first instance he reached Florence, but
-in the second, he got no farther than Lyons. The disappointment,
-however, was attended with good results, for on his return to Paris, a
-circumstance occurred which at once raised him into high reputation.
-
-The Jesuits had ordered a set of pictures for a high festival, which
-were to display the miracles worked by their patron saints, Ignatius
-Loyola, and Francis Xavier. Of these, six were executed by Poussin, in a
-very short space of time; the pictures were little more than sketches,
-but they exhibited such powers of composition and expression, that he
-was at once acknowledged to have distanced all competitors. His
-acquaintance was now sought by amateurs and literati; but the chief
-advantage which accrued to him was the friendship of the Chevalier
-Marini, a distinguished Italian, who had settled in Paris, and engaged
-with interest in the cultivation of elegant literature and the arts. His
-mind was stored with classical erudition, and he delighted to exercise
-his poetic talent on the then fashionable fables of heathen mythology.
-Such pursuits were congenial to Poussin’s turn of mind; and by the
-advice, and with the assistance of Marini, he entered deeply into the
-study of the Latin and Italian authors. Hence he drew the elements of
-that knowledge of the customs, manners, and habits of antiquity, by
-which his works are so eminently distinguished. Marini, soon after, went
-to Rome, and was anxious that Poussin should accompany him; but this the
-artist found impossible, from the number of unfinished commissions on
-his hands. In the ensuing year, however, 1624, his long-cherished wish
-was accomplished, and he trod the streets of the Eternal City.
-
-Among the innumerable pilgrims who have thronged to that mighty shrine,
-no one ever, perhaps, approached it with deeper reverence than Poussin,
-or studied in the school of antiquity with more zeal and success. He
-commenced his labours with that enthusiasm which the objects around him
-could not fail to inspire, and comprehended in the round of his studies
-the different sciences which bore collaterally upon his art. Some of his
-finest works are among those which he produced at this period; but his
-talents were not at first appreciated in Rome, and the spectre of penury
-still haunted his study. His friend Marini had gone to Naples, where he
-died, and the Cardinal Barberini, to whose favour he had been especially
-recommended, was absent on a legation in Spain. Among other works which
-his necessities compelled him to dispose of at this time for a trifling
-sum, was “The Ark of God in the hands of the Philistines,” which was
-purchased from him for fifty crowns, and sold shortly afterwards to the
-Duc de Richelieu for one thousand. Accident and ill health combined with
-poverty to overcloud the early part of his abode in Rome. The French
-were then very unpopular, on account of some differences existing
-between the Court of France and the Holy See. Poussin was assaulted in
-the streets by some of the Pope’s soldiery, severely wounded by a
-sabre-cut in the hand, and only escaped more serious injury by the
-spirit and resolution with which he defended himself. After recovering
-from this injury, he was again rendered unable to pursue his art by a
-lingering illness; in the course of which a fellow-countryman, named
-Jean Dughet, took him to his own home, and treated him with care, which
-soon restored him to health. Six months afterwards he married the
-daughter of his host, and subsequently adopted his wife’s brother,
-Gaspar, who assumed his name, and has shared its honours by his splendid
-landscapes. With part of his wife’s portion Poussin purchased a house on
-the Pincian Hill, which is still pointed out as an object of interest to
-travellers and students.
-
-From this period the fortune of Poussin began to improve. Relieved from
-his embarrassments, and tranquillized by domestic comfort, he proceeded
-in the calm exercise of his powers; and the fine works on which his
-reputation is founded were painted in rapid succession. Cardinal
-Barberini, who had returned to Rome, engaged him to execute one of the
-large paintings ordered to be copied in mosaic for St. Peter’s Church.
-The subject was the Martyrdom of St. Erasmus; but the picture, which is
-now in the Vatican, furnishes no reason for regret that Poussin did not
-more frequently employ himself on works of large dimensions. A
-circumstance occurred at this time which it is gratifying to relate, as
-it exhibits two distinguished men engaged in the honourable task of
-promoting the success and vindicating the reputation of each other. When
-Poussin arrived at Rome, he found the lovers of art divided into two
-parties, composed respectively of the admirers of Guido and Domenichino.
-Two pictures had been painted by those artists, which, as if to decide
-their rival claims, were hung opposite to each other in the church of
-San Gregorio. The subjects were similar; the one the Flagellation, the
-other the Martyrdom of the Saint from whom the church is named. The
-performance of Guido was the one most generally preferred: but Poussin
-formed a different judgment, and sat down to copy the picture of the
-less popular artist. Domenichino, on being informed of this, although he
-was then suffering from illness, ordered himself to be carried to the
-church, where he entered into conversation with Poussin, to whom he was
-personally unknown, and who indeed imagined him to be dead. A friendly
-intimacy was the consequence of this interview, which was exceedingly
-advantageous to Poussin, as Domenichino took pleasure in communicating
-all that knowledge of art, which long experience had enabled him to
-acquire. Shortly after this Domenichino quitted Rome for Naples, and the
-storm of envy and detraction seemed to gather force in his absence. So
-much was his reputation injured, that the monks of the convent of San
-Girolamo della Carità, who had in their possession his superb picture of
-the Communion of St. Jerome, ordered it to be removed from the walls and
-consigned to a cellar as a thing utterly contemptible. This anecdote,
-were it not attested by unquestionable evidence, would be difficult to
-believe; for the merits of the picture require no deep knowledge of art
-to be duly appreciated: it is not less admirable in colour and effect
-than in sentiment and character. The intelligent monks, however, wishing
-for a picture to supply its place, engaged Poussin to paint one,
-acquainting him at the same time that they could save him the expense of
-canvass, by sending him a worthless daub, over which he might paint. The
-astonishment of Poussin on receiving the picture may be easily
-conceived. He immediately directed it to be carried to the church from
-whence it had been taken, and announced his intention to deliver a
-public disquisition on its merits. This he accordingly did to a large
-auditory, and with such force of reasoning and illustration, that malice
-was silenced and prejudice convinced; and the name of Domenichino
-assumed from that time its just rank in public estimation.
-
-The pictures of Poussin, as he advanced in his career, were eagerly
-purchased by connoisseurs from all countries, and his fame was at length
-established throughout Europe. In 1638 a project was suggested to Louis
-XIII., by Cardinal Richelieu, for finishing the Louvre, and adorning the
-royal palaces, according to the magnificent plans of Francis I. The high
-reputation of Poussin marked him out as the person best qualified for
-the partial execution and entire superintendence of these splendid
-works; and accordingly a letter was transmitted to him by order of the
-French monarch, appointing him his principal painter, and requesting his
-immediate attendance at Paris. But so absorbed was the artist in his
-studies, and so unambitious was his temper, that he allowed two years to
-elapse before he attended to this flattering requisition; nor is it
-probable that he would have quitted Rome at all, had not a gentleman
-been despatched from the court of France to bring him. On his arrival,
-he was presented to the King, who received him with courtesy, and
-assigned him a liberal income. Placed in the full enjoyment of fame and
-wealth, Poussin’s situation might well appear enviable to his less
-favoured brethren in art. But his station, brilliant as it was, proved
-ill-suited to his disposition: and his letters to his friends in Rome
-were soon filled with the language of disappointment and complaint. He
-felt that he was no longer exercising his genius as an artist, but
-labouring as an artisan. Commissions were poured in upon him from the
-court with merciless rapidity, without the slightest calculation of the
-time requisite to the production of works of art. On one occasion he was
-required to execute a picture containing sixteen figures, larger than
-life, within six weeks. Nor was this the worst: the triflers of the
-court obtruded on him, with irritating politeness, the most
-insignificant employments; designs for chimney-pieces, ornamental
-cabinets, bindings for books, repairing pictures, &c. To complete the
-catalogue of annoyances, his coadjutors in the public works, Le Mercier
-the architect, and the painters Vouet and Fouquieres, thwarted and
-opposed him in every particular; until at length, worn out and
-disgusted, he applied for permission to return to Rome. This he obtained
-with some difficulty, and not without a stipulation that he should
-revisit Paris within twelve months. It is not improbable that the
-condition would never have been fulfilled; but the King’s death in the
-following year released him from the obligation. The last works executed
-by Poussin in Paris were two allegorical subjects: the one, Time
-bringing Truth to light, and delivering her from the fiends, Malice and
-Envy; in which an allusion was most probably meant to the controversies
-in which he had been engaged: the other, in which his intention is less
-equivocal, is an imitation of bas-relief, in the ceiling of the Louvre,
-where his opponents, Fouquieres, Le Mercier, and Vouet, are consigned to
-the derision of posterity under the figures of Folly, Ignorance, and
-Envy.
-
-Perhaps the happiest, and not an inconsiderable, portion of Poussin’s
-life, was that which intervened between his return to Rome and his
-death. Experience of the cabals and disquietudes of Paris had no doubt
-taught him to value the classical serenity of his adopted home. Although
-in possession of great and undisputed fame, and sufficiently affluent,
-he continued to labour in his art with unrelaxing diligence, if that may
-be called labour which constituted his highest gratification. His
-talents and moral worth drew round him a large circle of the learned and
-the polite, who anxiously sought his society during his leisure hours;
-and in his evening walks on the Pincian Hill, he might have been said to
-resemble one of the philosophers of antiquity, surrounded by his friends
-and disciples. Thus he descended, with tranquil dignity, into the vale
-of life. In 1665 he suffered from a stroke of the palsy, and, shortly
-after, the death of his wife plunged him into the deepest affliction. He
-perceived his own end to be approaching, and awaited it with calm
-resignation. He died in his 72d year, A. D. 1665, and was buried with
-public honours in the church of San Lorenzo in Lucina.
-
-The pictures of Poussin are so numerous, and so generally dispersed,
-that every one, whose attention has been directed to the arts, must have
-a pretty accurate impression of his style. It is a style of perfect
-originality, reminding us somewhat of ancient art, but without a
-tincture of imitation of any modern master. For a short time Poussin
-sought a model in the school of Titian, but turned from that task to
-copy the pictures discovered among the ruins of ancient Rome. Apparently
-he wished to give his works something of the subdued tone which Time has
-communicated to those relics; and hence, in some of his pictures, there
-is a singular discrepancy between the subject and the effect. He
-delighted to paint antique revels, bacchanalians, dancing nymphs, &c.;
-but his tints never accord with gay subjects, nor exhibit the vivacity
-and freshness proper to such scenes. The solemn and sombre hue of his
-colouring is far better adapted to grand or pathetic subjects.
-Considering the implicit and almost idolatrous admiration with which
-Poussin regarded the antique statues, it is astonishing that he should
-not have infused into his own forms more of the spirit in which these
-are conceived; for, in this point, imitation could not have been carried
-too far. But the reverse is the case: his figures are direct transcripts
-of individual models, usually correct in proportion, but seldom rendered
-ideal, or generalized into beauty. A still greater defect is chargeable
-on his composition, which is almost invariably scattered and confused,
-without a centre of interest or point of unity. His principal figures
-are mixed up with the subordinate ones, and those again with the
-accessories in the back-ground. What, then, are the qualities by which
-Poussin has acquired his high reputation? The principal one we conceive
-to consist in that very simplicity and severity, by which perhaps the
-eye is at first offended. He appears to feel himself above the necessity
-of superficial ornament. He is always thoroughly in earnest; his figures
-perform their business with an emphasis which rivets our attention, we
-become identified with the subject, and lose all thought of the painter
-in his performance. This is a result never produced by an inferior
-artist. On the whole, although we cannot assign Poussin a place by the
-side of Raffaelle, Rubens, Titian, and some others, who may be
-considered the giants of art, and compose the foremost rank, he
-certainly stands among those who are most eminent in the second. His
-compositions, which are very numerous, are varied with great skill, and
-surprise us, not unfrequently, with novel and striking combinations; and
-several among them—we may adduce particularly the Ark of God among the
-Philistines, the Deluge, and the Slaughter of the Innocents—could only
-have originated in a mind of a very exalted order.
-
-Several of Poussin’s finest works are in this country. In the Dulwich
-Gallery there is, we believe, the largest number to be found in any one
-collection. Among those, the subject of the Angels appearing to Abraham
-is treated with considerable grace and beauty. The picture of Moses
-striking the rock, in the possession of the Marquis of Stafford, is one
-of Poussin’s most profound and elaborate performances; and, in the
-National Gallery, the two Bacchanalian subjects will furnish a full idea
-both of his powers and deficiencies in treating that favourite class of
-compositions.
-
-The reader will find a more detailed account of the life and works of
-Poussin in Lanzi’s ‘Storia Pittorica dell’Italia,’ and Bellori’s ‘Vite
-di Pittori moderni.’ There is an English life of him written by Maria
-Graham. Much critical information concerning his style and performances
-will be found in the writings of Mengs, Reynolds, and Fuseli.
-
-[Illustration: [Holy Family; from a picture by Poussin.]]
-
-[Illustration:
-
-  _Engraved by E. Scriven._
-
-  W. HARVEY, M.D.
-
-  _From the original Picture by C. Jansen in the possession of the Royal
-    Society._
-
-  Under the Superintendance of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful
-    Knowledge.
-
-  _London. Published by Charles Knight, Pall Mall East._
-]
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration]
-
-                                 HARVEY
-
-
-William Harvey was born on the 1st of April, 1578, at Folkstone, on the
-southern coast of Kent. He was the eldest of nine children; of the rest
-little more is known than that several of the brothers were among the
-most eminent merchants in the city of London during the reigns of the
-two first Stuarts. His father, Thomas Harvey, followed no profession. He
-married Joanna Falke at the age of twenty, and lived upon his own estate
-at Folkstone. This property devolved by inheritance upon his eldest son;
-and the greatest part of it was eventually bequeathed by him to the
-college at which he was educated.
-
-At ten years of age he commenced his studies at the grammar school in
-Canterbury; and upon the 31st of May, 1593, soon after the completion of
-his fifteenth year, was admitted as a pensioner at Caius College,
-Cambridge.
-
-At that time a familiar acquaintance with logic and the learned
-languages was indispensable as a first step in the prosecution of all
-the branches of science, especially of medicine; and the skill with
-which Harvey avails himself of the scholastic form of reasoning in his
-great work on the Circulation, with the elegant Latin style of all his
-writings, particularly of his latest work on the Generation of Animals,
-afford a sufficient proof of his diligence in the prosecution of these
-preliminary studies during the next four years, which he spent at
-Cambridge. The two next were occupied in visiting the principal cities
-and seminaries of the Continent. He then prepared to address himself to
-those investigations to which the rest of his life was devoted; and the
-scene of his introduction to them could not have been better chosen than
-at the University of Padua, where he became a student in his
-twenty-second year.
-
-The ancient physicians gathered what they knew of anatomy from
-inaccurate dissections of the lower animals; and the slender knowledge
-thus acquired, however inadequate to unfold the complicated functions of
-the human frame, was abundantly sufficient as a basis for conjecture, of
-which they took full advantage. With them every thing became easy to
-explain, precisely because nothing was understood; and the nature and
-treatment of disease, the great object of medicine and of its subsidiary
-sciences, was hardily abandoned to the conduct of the imagination, and
-sought for literally among the stars. Nevertheless, so firmly was their
-authority established, that even down to the close of the sixteenth
-century the naturalists of Europe still continued to derive all their
-physiology, and the greater part of their anatomy and medicine, from the
-works of Aristotle and Galen, read not in the original Greek, but
-re-translated into Latin from the interpolated versions of the Arabian
-physicians. The opinions entertained by these dictators in the republic
-of letters, and consequently by their submissive followers, with regard
-to the structure and functions of the organs concerned in the
-circulation, were particularly fanciful and confused, so much so that it
-would be no easy task to give an intelligible account of them that would
-not be tedious from its length. It will be enough to say, that a
-scarcely more oppressive mass of mischievous error was cleared away from
-the science of astronomy by the discovery of Newton, than that from
-which physiology was disencumbered by the discovery of Harvey.
-
-But though the work was completed by an Englishman, it is to Italy that,
-in anatomy, as in most of the sciences, we owe the first attempts to
-cast off the thraldom of the ancients. Mundinus had published a work in
-the year 1315, which contained a few original observations of his own;
-and his essay was so well received that it remained the text-book of the
-Italian schools of anatomy for upwards of two centuries. It was enriched
-from time to time by various annotators, among the chief of whom were
-Achillini, and Berengarius, the first person who published anatomical
-plates. But the great reformer of anatomy was Vesalius, who, born at
-Brussels in 1514, had attained such early celebrity during his studies
-at Paris and Louvain, that he was invited by the republic of Venice in
-his twenty-second year to the chair of anatomy at Padua, which he filled
-for seven years with the highest reputation. He also taught at Bologna,
-and subsequently, by the invitation of Cosmo de’ Medici, at Pisa. The
-first edition of his work ‘De Corporis Humani fabricâ,’ was printed at
-Basle in the year 1543; it is perhaps one of the most successful efforts
-of human industry and research, and from the date of its publication
-begins an entirely new era in the science of which it treats. The
-despotic sway hitherto maintained in the schools of medicine by the
-writings of Aristotle and Galen was now shaken to its foundation, and a
-new race of anatomists eagerly pressed forward in the path of discovery.
-Among these no one was more conspicuous than Fallopius, the disciple,
-successor, and in fame the rival, of Vesalius, at Padua. After him the
-anatomical professorship was filled by Fabricius ab Aquapendente, the
-last of the distinguished anatomists who flourished at Padua in the
-sixteenth century.
-
-Harvey became his pupil in 1599, and from this time he appears to have
-applied himself seriously to the study of anatomy. The first germ of the
-discovery which has shed immortal honour on his name and country was
-conceived in the lecture-room of Fabricius.
-
-He remained at Padua for two years; and having received the degree of
-Doctor in Arts and Medicine with unusual marks of distinction, returned
-to England early in the year 1602. Two years afterwards he commenced
-practice in London, and married the daughter of Dr. Launcelot Browne, by
-whom he had no children. He became a fellow of the College of Physicians
-when about thirty years of age, having in the mean time renewed his
-degree of Doctor in Medicine at Cambridge; and was soon after elected
-Physician to St. Bartholomew’s Hospital, which office he retained till a
-late period of his life.
-
-On the 4th of August, 1615, he was appointed Reader of Anatomy and
-Surgery to the College of Physicians. From some scattered hints in his
-writings it appears that his doctrine of the circulation was first
-advanced in his lectures at the college about four years afterwards; and
-a note-book in his own handwriting is still preserved at the British
-Museum, in which the principal arguments by which it is substantiated
-are briefly set down, as if for reference in the lecture-room. Yet with
-the characteristic caution and modesty of true genius, he continued for
-nine years longer to reason and experimentalize upon what is now
-considered one of the simplest, as it is undoubtedly the most important,
-known law of animal nature; and it was not till the year 1628, the
-fifty-first of his life, that he consented to publish his discovery to
-the world.
-
-In that year the ‘Exercitatio Anatomica de Motu Cordis et Sanguinis’ was
-published at Frankfort. This masterly treatise begins with a short
-outline and refutation of the opinions of former anatomists on the
-movement of the animal fluids and the function of the heart; the author
-discriminating with care, and anxiously acknowledging the glimpses of
-the truth to be met with in their writings; as if he had not only kept
-in mind the justice due to previous discoveries, and the prudence of
-softening the novelty and veiling the extent of his own, but had
-foreseen the preposterous imputation of plagiarism, which, with other
-inconsistent charges, was afterwards brought forward against him. This
-short sketch is followed by a plain exposition of the anatomy of the
-circulation, and a detail of the results of numerous experiments; and
-the new theory is finally maintained in a strain of close and powerful
-reasoning, and followed into some of its most important consequences.
-The whole argument is conducted in simple and unpretending language,
-with great perspicuity, and scrupulous attention to logical form.
-
-The doctrine announced by Harvey may be briefly stated thus:—
-
-When the blood supplied for the various processes which are carried on
-in the living body has undergone a certain degree of change, it requires
-to be purified by the act of respiration. For this purpose it is urged
-onwards by fresh blood from behind into the veins; and returning in them
-from all parts of the body, enters a cavity of the heart called the
-_right auricle_. At the same time the purified blood returning from the
-lungs by the pulmonary veins, passes into the _left auricle_. When these
-two cavities, which are distinct from each other, are sufficiently
-dilated, they contract, and force the blood which they contain into two
-other much more muscular cavities called respectively the right and left
-_ventricle_, all retrogression into the auricles being prevented by
-valves, which admit of a passage in one direction only. The ventricles
-then contract in their turn with great force, and at the same instant;
-and propel their blood, the right, by the pulmonary artery into the
-lungs; the left, which is much the stronger of the two, into all parts
-of the body, by the great artery called the _aörta_, and its branches;
-all return being prevented as before by valves situated at the orifices
-of those vessels, which are closed most accurately when the ventricles
-relax, by the backward pressure of the blood arising from the elasticity
-of the arteries. Thus the purified blood passes from the lungs by the
-pulmonary veins through the left auricle into the ventricle of the same
-side, by which it is distributed into all parts of the body, driving the
-vitiated blood before it; and the vitiated blood is pushed into and
-along the veins to the right auricle, and thence is sent into the right
-ventricle, which propels it by the pulmonary artery through the lungs.
-In this manner a double circulation is kept up by the sole agency of the
-heart, through the lungs, and through the body; the contractions of the
-auricles and ventricles taking place alternately. To prevent any
-backward motion of the blood in the superficial veins, which might
-happen from their liability to external pressure, they are also provided
-with simple and very complete valves which admit of a passage only
-towards the heart. They were first remarked by Fabricius ab
-Aquapendente, and exhibited in his lectures to Harvey among the rest of
-his pupils; but their function remained a mystery till it was explained
-by the discovery of the circulation. It is related by Boyle, upon
-Harvey’s own authority, that the first idea of this comprehensive
-principle suggested itself to him when considering the structure of
-these valves.
-
-The pulmonary circulation had been surmised by Galen, and maintained by
-his successors; but no proof even of this insulated portion of the
-truth, more than amounted to strong probability, had been given till the
-time of Harvey; and no plausible claim to the discovery, still less to
-the demonstration, of the general circulation has ever been set up in
-opposition to his. Indeed its truth was quite inconsistent with the
-ideas everywhere entertained in the schools on the functions of the
-heart and other viscera, and was destructive of many favourite theories.
-The new doctrine, therefore, as may well be supposed, was received by
-most of the anatomists of the period with distrust, and by all with
-surprise. Some of them undertook to refute it; but their objections
-turned principally on the silence of Galen, or consisted of the most
-frivolous cavils: the controversy, too, assumed the form of personal
-abuse even more speedily than is usually the case when authority is at
-issue with reason. To such opposition Harvey for some time did not think
-it necessary to reply; but some of his friends in England, and of the
-adherents to his doctrine on the Continent, warmly took up his defence.
-At length he was induced to take a personal share in the dispute in
-answer to Riolanus, a Parisian anatomist of some celebrity, whose
-objections were distinguished by some show of philosophy, and unusual
-abstinence from abuse. The answer was conciliatory and complete, but
-ineffectual to produce conviction; and in reply to Harvey’s appeal to
-direct experiment, his opponent urged nothing but conjecture and
-assertion. Harvey once more rejoined at considerable length; taking
-occasion to give a spirited rebuke to the unworthy reception he had met
-with, in which it seems that Riolanus had now permitted himself to join;
-adducing several new and conclusive experiments in support of his
-theory; and entering at large upon its value in simplifying physiology
-and the study of diseases, with other interesting collateral topics.
-Riolanus, however, still remained unconvinced; and his second rejoinder
-was treated by Harvey with contemptuous silence. He had already
-exhausted the subject in the two excellent controversial pieces just
-mentioned, the last of which is said to have been written at Oxford
-about 1545; and he never resumed the discussion in print. Time had now
-come to the assistance of argument, and his discovery began to be
-generally admitted. To this indeed his opponents contributed by a still
-more singular discovery of their own, namely, that the facts had been
-observed, and the important inference drawn long before. This was the
-mere allegation of envy, chafed at the achievements of another, which,
-from their apparent facility, might have been its own. It is indeed
-strange that the simple mechanism thus explained should have been
-unobserved or misunderstood so long; and nothing can account for it but
-the imperceptible lightness as well as the strength of the chains which
-authority imposes on the mind.
-
-In the year 1623 Harvey became Physician Extraordinary to James I., and
-seven years later was appointed Physician to Charles. He followed the
-fortunes of that monarch, who treated him with great distinction, during
-the first years of the civil war, and he was present at the battle of
-Edgehill in 1642. Having been incorporated Doctor of Physic by the
-University of Oxford, he was promoted by Charles to the Wardenship of
-Merton College in 1645; but he did not retain this office very long, his
-predecessor Dr. Brent being reinstated by the parliament after the
-surrender of Oxford in the following year.
-
-Harvey then returned to London and resided with his brother Eliab at
-Cockaine-house in the Poultry. About the time of Charles’s execution he
-gave up his practice, which had never been considerable, probably in
-consequence of his devotion to the scientific, rather than the practical
-parts of his profession. He himself, however, attributed his want of
-success to the enmity excited by his discovery. After a second visit to
-the Continent, he secluded himself in the country, sometimes at his own
-house in Lambeth, and sometimes with his brother Eliab at Combe in
-Surrey. Here he was visited by his friend Dr. Ent in 1651, by whom he
-was persuaded to allow the publication of his work on the Generation of
-Animals. It was the fruit of many years of experiment and meditation;
-and though the vehicle of no remarkable discovery, is replete with
-interest and research, and contains passages of brilliant and even
-poetical eloquence. The object of his work is to trace the germ through
-all its changes to the period of maturity; and the illustrations are
-principally drawn from the phenomena exhibited by eggs in the process of
-incubation, which he watched with great care, and has described with
-minuteness and fidelity. The microscope had not at that time the
-perfection it has since attained; and consequently Harvey’s account of
-the first appearance of the chick is somewhat inaccurate, and has been
-superseded by the observations of Malpighi, Hunter, and others. The
-experiments upon which he chiefly relied in this department of natural
-history had been repeated in the presence of Charles I., who appears to
-have taken great interest in the studies of his physician.
-
-In the year 1653, the seventy-fifth of his life, Harvey presented the
-College of Physicians with the title-deeds of a building erected in
-their garden, and elegantly fitted up at his expense, with a library and
-museum, and commodious apartments for their social meetings. Upon this
-occasion he resigned the Professorship of Anatomy, which he had held for
-nearly forty years, and was succeeded by Dr. Glisson.
-
-In 1654 he was elected to the Presidency of the College, which he
-declined on the plea of age; and the former President, Sir Francis
-Prujean, was re-elected at his request. Two years afterwards he made a
-donation to the college of a part of his patrimonial estate to the
-yearly value of £56, as a provision for the maintenance of the library
-and an annual festival and oration in commemoration of benefactors.
-
-At length his constitution, which had long been harassed by the gout,
-yielded to the increasing infirmities of age, and he died in his
-eightieth year, on the 3d of June, 1657. He was buried at Hempstead in
-Essex, in a vault belonging to his brother Eliab, who was his principal
-heir, and his remains were followed to the grave by a numerous
-procession of the body of which he had been so illustrious and
-munificent a member.
-
-The best edition of his works is that edited by the College of
-Physicians in 1766, to which is prefixed a valuable notice of his life,
-and an account of the controversy to which his discovery of the
-circulation gave rise. All that remain of his writings in addition to
-those which have been already mentioned, are an account of the
-dissection of Thomas Parr, who died at the age of 153, and a few letters
-addressed to various Continental anatomists. His lodgings at Whitehall
-had been plundered in the early part of the civil war, of many papers
-containing manuscript notes of experiments and observations, chiefly
-relating to comparative anatomy. This was a loss which he always
-continued to lament. The missing papers have never been recovered.
-
-In person he was below the middle size, but well-proportioned. He had a
-dark complexion, black hair, and small lively eyes. In his youth his
-temper is said to have been very hasty. If so he was cured of this
-defect as he grew older; for nothing can be more courteous and temperate
-than his controversial writings, and the genuine kindness and modesty
-which were conspicuous in all his dealings with others, with his
-instructive conversation, gained him many attached and excellent
-friends. He was fond of meditation and retirement; and there is much in
-his works to characterize him as a man of warm and unaffected piety.
-
-There are several histories of his life; a very elegant one has lately
-been published in a volume of the Family Library, entitled ‘Lives of
-British Physicians.’
-
-[Illustration:
-
-  _Engraved by C. E. Wagstaff._
-
-  SIR J. BANKS.
-
-  _From a Picture by J. Phillips, in the possession of the Royal
-    Society._
-
-  Under the Superintendance of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful
-    Knowledge.
-
-  _London. Published by Charles Knight, Pall Mall East._
-]
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration]
-
-                                 BANKS
-
-
-Posterity is likely to do scanty justice to the merits of Banks, when
-the grateful recollections of his contemporaries shall have passed away.
-His name is connected with no great discovery, no striking improvement;
-and he has left no literary works from which the extent of his industry,
-or the amount of his knowledge can be estimated. Yet he did much for the
-cause of science; much by his personal exertions, more by a judicious
-and liberal use of the advantages of fortune. For more than half a
-century a zealous and successful student of natural history in general,
-and particularly of botany, the history of his scientific life is to be
-found in the records of science during that long and active period. We
-shall not attempt to compress so intricate and extensive a subject
-within the brief limits of three or four pages; but confine ourselves to
-a short sketch of his character and personal adventures. Some fitting
-person will, it is to be hoped, ere too late, undertake to write the
-life of our distinguished countryman upon a scale calculated to do
-justice to his merits: at present this task is not only unperformed, but
-unattempted.
-
-Joseph Banks was born in London, February 13, 1743. Of his childhood we
-find few memorials. He passed through the ordinary routine of education;
-having been first committed to the care of a private tutor at home, then
-placed at Harrow, afterwards at Eton, and finally sent to complete his
-studies at Christchurch, Oxford. Born to the inheritance of an ample
-fortune, and left an orphan at the age of eighteen, it is no small
-praise that he was not allured by the combined temptations of youth,
-wealth, and freedom, to seek his happiness in vicious, or even idle
-pleasures. Science, in one of its most attractive branches, the study of
-animated nature, was his amusement as a schoolboy, and the favourite
-pursuit of his mature years: and he was rewarded for his devotion, not
-merely in the rank and estimation which he obtained by its means, but
-also in his immunity from the dangers which society throws in the way of
-those who have the means of gratifying their own passions, and the
-vanities and interests of their friends.
-
-He quitted the university in the year 1763. In 1766 he gave a proof of
-his zeal for knowledge by engaging in a voyage to Newfoundland. He was
-induced to choose that most unattractive region, by having the
-opportunity of accompanying a friend, Lieutenant Phipps, afterwards Lord
-Mulgrave, well known as a navigator of the Polar Seas, who was sent out
-in a ship of war to protect the fisheries. Soon after his return a much
-more interesting and important field of inquiry was opened to him by the
-progress of discovery in the southern hemisphere. In 1764 Commodore
-Byron, in 1766 Captains Wallis and Carteret were sent into the South
-Sea, to investigate the geography of that immense and then unfrequented
-region. These expeditions were succeeded in 1768 by another under the
-command of Captain Cook, who first obtained celebrity as a navigator
-upon this occasion. Lord Sandwich, then First Lord of the Admiralty,
-possessed an estate in Lincolnshire on the borders of Whittlesea Mere.
-Mr. Banks’s chief property lay in the same neighbourhood: and it so
-chanced that similarity of tastes, and especially a common predilection
-for all aquatic amusements, had produced a great intimacy between the
-statesman and his young country neighbour. To this fortunate
-circumstance it may probably be ascribed, that on Mr. Banks expressing a
-wish to accompany the projected expedition, his desire was immediately
-granted. His preparations were made on the most liberal scale. He laid
-in an ample store of such articles as would be useful or acceptable to
-the savage tribes whom he was about to visit: and besides the usual
-philosophical apparatus of a voyage of discovery, he engaged two
-draughtsmen to make accurate representations of such objects as could
-not be preserved, or conveyed to England; and he secured the services of
-Dr. Solander, a Swedish naturalist, a pupil of Linnæus, who had
-previously been placed on the establishment of the British Museum. The
-history of this voyage belongs to the life of Cook. The expedition bent
-its course for the Southern Ocean, through the Straits of Le Maire, at
-the southern end of America. Mr. Banks and Dr. Solander landed on the
-desolate island of Terra del Fuego, where the severity of the cold had
-very nearly proved fatal to several of their party. Dr. Solander in
-particular was so entirely overcome by the drowsiness consequent on
-extreme cold and exhaustion, that it was with great difficulty, and by
-the unwearied exertion and resolution of his more robust companion, that
-he was prevented from falling into that sleep which is the forerunner of
-death. Their farther course lay through the islands of the Pacific Ocean
-to Otaheite, which had been selected as a fitting place for the main
-object of the voyage, the observing of the passage of Venus over the
-sun’s disk. At that island their stay was consequently prolonged for
-several months, during which the Europeans and the natives mingled
-together, generally on the most friendly terms. In this intercourse Mr.
-Banks took a very leading part. His liberality, and the high station
-which he evidently held among the strangers, conciliated the attachment
-and respect of the unpolished islanders: and the mingled suavity and
-firmness of his temper and demeanour rendered him singularly fitted both
-to protect the weaker party from the occasional wantonness or
-presumption of their visitors, and to check their knavery, and obtain
-satisfaction for the thefts which they not unfrequently committed. Once
-the astronomical purposes of the navigators were nearly frustrated by
-the loss of the large brass quadrant; and the recovery of this important
-instrument was chiefly due to the exertions and influence of Mr. Banks.
-Both hemispheres owe to him a tribute of gratitude; for while he gave
-the savages the improved tools, the esculent vegetables, and the
-domesticated animals of Europe, his exertions led to the introduction of
-the breadfruit, and of the productive sugar-cane peculiar to Otaheite,
-into our West-India colonies.
-
-After the lapse of three years the voyagers returned home, and were
-received with lively interest by all classes of society. Part of their
-collections were lost through an accident which happened to the vessel:
-but the greater portion was preserved, and their novelty and beauty
-excited the admiration of naturalists. George III., who delighted in
-everything connected with horticulture and farming, manifested a warm
-interest in inquiring into the results of the expedition, and conceived
-a liking for the young traveller, which continued unimpaired even to the
-close of his public life.
-
-It was Mr. Banks’s intention to accompany Captain Cook in his second
-voyage, in 1772: but the Navy Board showed no willingness to provide
-that accommodation which the extent of his preparations and the number
-of his scientific followers required, and he gave up the project, which
-indeed he could not satisfactorily execute. In the summer of that year
-he went to Iceland. Passing along the western coast of Scotland, he was
-led to visit Staffa, in consequence of local information; and to his
-description that singular island was first indebted for its general
-celebrity. He spent a month in Iceland. An account of this visit has
-been published by M. Von Troil, a Swedish clergyman, who formed one of
-the party. On this, as on other occasions, Mr. Banks, unwearied in quest
-of knowledge, seemed careless of the fame to which most would have
-aspired as the reward of their labours. Of none of his travels has he
-himself given any account in a separate publication; indeed, a few
-papers in the Horticultural Transactions, and a very curious account of
-the causes of mildew in corn, not printed for sale, constitute the mass
-of his published works. But his visit was productive of much good to the
-Icelanders, though it remained uncommemorated in expensive quartos. He
-watched over their welfare, when their communication with Denmark was
-interrupted by war between that country and England; and twice sent
-cargoes of corn, at his own expense, to relieve their sufferings in
-seasons of scarcity. His benevolence was warmly acknowledged by the
-Danish Court.
-
-Returning to England, Mr. Banks, at the early age of thirty, entered on
-that tranquil and useful course of life, from which during a long series
-of years he never deviated. His thirst for travel was checked or
-satiated; he undertook no more distant expeditions, but he ceased not to
-cultivate the sciences, for which he had undergone so many hardships. It
-was long hoped that he would publish some account of the rich harvest of
-vegetable productions which he had collected in the unknown regions of
-the Pacific; and for this purpose it was known that he had caused a very
-large number of plates to be engraved at a great expense: but, most
-probably owing to the death of Solander, these have never been given to
-the world. But if he hesitated to communicate himself to the public the
-results of his labours, in amends his museum and his library were placed
-most freely at the command of those who sought, and were able to profit
-by his assistance; and to these sources many splendid works, especially
-on botany, have mainly owed their merits, and perhaps their existence.
-
-From the period of his return from Iceland Mr. Banks took an active part
-in the affairs of the Royal Society. His house was constantly open to
-men of science, whether British or foreign, and by the urbanity of his
-manners, and his liberal use of the advantages of fortune, he acquired
-that popularity which six years afterwards led to his election as
-President of that distinguished body. Two or three years afterwards a
-dangerous schism had nearly arisen in the Society, chiefly in
-consequence of the unreasonable anger of a party of mathematicians,
-headed by Dr. Horsley, afterwards Bishop of St. David’s, who looked with
-contempt on sciences unsusceptible of mathematical proof, and loudly
-exclaimed against the chair of Newton being filled, as they phrased it,
-by an amateur. It would be little profitable to rake up the embers of an
-ancient and unworthy feud. We shall only state therefore that Banks was
-elected in November, 1778; that for some time a violent opposition was
-raised against him; and that in January, 1784, the Society, by a formal
-resolution, declared itself satisfied with the choice which it had made.
-Horsley and a few others seceded, and for the rest of his life Banks
-continued the undisputed and popular president; a period of forty-one
-years from the epoch of his election.
-
-We have said that at an early age Mr. Banks was fortunate in gaining the
-royal favour; marks of which were not wanting. In 1781 he was created a
-baronet; in 1795 he received the Order of the Bath, then very rarely
-bestowed upon civilians and commoners; and in 1797 he was made a Privy
-Councillor. The friendship between the King and the subject was cemented
-by similarity of pursuits; for the latter was a practical farmer as well
-as a philosopher, and under his care the value of his estates in
-Lincolnshire was considerably increased by improvements in the drainage
-of that singular country, in the direction of which Sir Joseph took an
-active part. He is said to have possessed such influence over the King’s
-mind, that ministers sometimes availed themselves of it to recommend a
-measure unpalatable to their honest but somewhat obstinate master. We
-know not whether this be better founded than most other stories of
-back-stairs influence, easily thrown out and difficult to be refuted: it
-is at least certain that if Banks possessed such power, he deserves
-great credit for the singular moderation with which he used it. For
-himself he asked and received nothing: fortunately his station in
-society was one which renders disinterestedness an easy, if not a common
-virtue. His influence was directed to facilitate scientific
-undertakings, to soften to men of science the inconveniences of the long
-war of the Revolution, to procure the restoration of their papers and
-collections when taken by an enemy, or the alleviation of their
-sufferings in captivity. The French were especially indebted to him for
-such services. It is said by an eminent member of the Institute, in his
-Eloge upon Banks, that no less than ten times, collections addressed to
-the Jardin du Roi at Paris, and captured by the English, were restored
-by his intercession to their original destination. He thought that
-national hostility should find no entrance among followers of science;
-and the delicacy of his views on this subject is well displayed in a
-letter written on one of these occasions to Jussieu, where he says that
-he would on no account rob of a single botanical idea a man who had gone
-to seek them at the peril of his life. In 1802 the National Institute of
-France, being then re-modelled, elected him at the head of their Foreign
-Associates, whose number was limited to eight. Cavendish, Maskelyne, and
-Herschel were also members of this distinguished list. In replying to
-the letter which announced this honour, Sir Joseph Banks expressed his
-gratitude in terms which gave offence to some members of that
-distinguished Society over which he himself presided. This exposed him
-to a virulent attack from an anonymous enemy, who published the letter
-in question in the English papers, accompanied by a most acrimonious
-address to the author of it; prompted, it is evident, not so much by a
-reasonable and patriotic jealousy, as by ancient pique, and a bitter
-detestation even of the science of revolutionary France.
-
-Towards the close of life Sir Joseph Banks, who in youth had possessed a
-robust constitution, and a dignified and prepossessing figure, was
-grievously afflicted by gout. He endured the sufferings of disease with
-patience and cheerfulness, and died May 19, 1820, leaving no children.
-Lady Banks, whom he had married in 1779, survived him several years. His
-magnificent library he devised to the British Museum; and among other
-bequests for scientific purposes, he left an annuity to Mr. Frederic
-Bauer, an artist whom he had long employed in making botanical drawings
-from the garden at Kew, upon condition that he should continue the
-series.
-
-[Illustration: Banksia ericifolia.]
-
-
-                             END OF VOL. I.
-
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-
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-
-
-                          TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES
-
-
- 1. Changed “he had a numerous offspring” to “he had numerous offspring”
-      on p. 3.
- 2. Changed “campaigns bolder style” to “campaigns a bolder style” on p.
-      70.
- 3. Silently corrected typographical errors.
- 4. Retained anachronistic and non-standard spellings as printed.
- 5. Enclosed italics font in _underscores_.
- 6. Superscripts are denoted by a carat before a single superscript
-      character or a series of superscripted characters enclosed in
-      curly braces, e.g. M^r. or M^{ister}.
-
-
-
-
-
-End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Gallery of Portraits: with
-Memoirs. Volume 1 (of 7), by Various
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-*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GALLERY OF PORTRAITS, VOL 1 ***
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-
-The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Gallery of Portraits: with Memoirs.
-Volume 1 (of 7), by Various
-
-This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most
-other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
-whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of
-the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at
-www.gutenberg.org.  If you are not located in the United States, you'll have
-to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook.
-
-Title: The Gallery of Portraits: with Memoirs. Volume 1 (of 7)
-
-Author: Various
-
-Release Date: July 5, 2017 [EBook #55047]
-
-Language: English
-
-Character set encoding: UTF-8
-
-*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GALLERY OF PORTRAITS, VOL 1 ***
-
-
-
-
-Produced by Richard Tonsing, Chris Curnow and the Online
-Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
-file was produced from images generously made available
-by The Internet Archive)
-
-
-
-
-
-
-</pre>
-
-
-<div class='tnotes covernote'>
-
-<p class='c000'><strong>Transcriber's Note:</strong></p>
-
-<p class='c000'>The cover image was created by the transcriber and is placed in the public domain.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class='nf-center-c1'>
-<div class='nf-center c001'>
-    <div>THE</div>
-    <div class='c002'>GALLERY OF PORTRAITS:</div>
-    <div class='c002'><span class='small'>WITH</span></div>
-    <div class='c002'><span class='xlarge'>MEMOIRS.</span></div>
-    <div class='c003'>VOL. I.</div>
-  </div>
-</div>
-
-<div class='ph2'>
-
-<div class='nf-center-c1'>
-<div class='nf-center c001'>
-    <div>COMMITTEE.</div>
-  </div>
-</div>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class='nf-center-c1'>
-<div class='nf-center c003'>
-    <div><em>Chairman</em>—The Right Hon. the LORD CHANCELLOR.</div>
-    <div class='c002'><em>Vice-Chairman</em>—The Right Hon. LORD JOHN RUSSEL, M.P., Paymaster General.</div>
-    <div class='c002'><em>Treasurer</em>—WILLIAM TOOKE, Esq., M.P., F.R.S.</div>
-  </div>
-</div>
-
-<ul class='index'>
-  <li class='c004'>W. Allen, Esq., F.R and R.A.S.</li>
-  <li class='c004'>Rt. Hon. Visc. Althorp, M.P. Chancellor of the Exchequer.</li>
-  <li class='c004'>Rt. Hon. Lord Auckland, President of the Board of Trade.</li>
-  <li class='c004'>W. B. Baring, Esq., M.P.</li>
-  <li class='c004'>Capt. F. Beaufort, R.N., F.R. and R.A.S., Hydrographer to the Admiralty.</li>
-  <li class='c004'>Sir C. Bell, F.R.S.L and E.</li>
-  <li class='c004'>John Bostock, M.D., F.R.S.</li>
-  <li class='c004'>The Rt. Rev. the Bishop of Chichester.</li>
-  <li class='c004'>William Coulson, Esq.</li>
-  <li class='c004'>R. D. Craig, Esq.</li>
-  <li class='c004'>Wm. Crawford, Esq.</li>
-  <li class='c004'>J. Frederick Daniell, Esq., F.R.S.</li>
-  <li class='c004'>Rt. Hon. Lord Dover, F.R.S., F.S.A.</li>
-  <li class='c004'>Lieut. Drummond, R.E., F.R.A.S.</li>
-  <li class='c004'>Viscount Ebrington, M.P.</li>
-  <li class='c004'>T. F. Ellis, Esq., M.A., F.R.A.S.</li>
-  <li class='c004'>John Elliotson, M.D., F.R.S.</li>
-  <li class='c004'>Howard Elphinstone, Esq., M.A.</li>
-  <li class='c004'>Thomas Falconer, Esq.</li>
-  <li class='c004'>I. L. Goldsmid, Esq., F.R. and R.A.S.</li>
-  <li class='c004'>B. Gompertz, Esq., F.R. and R.A.S.</li>
-  <li class='c004'>G. B. Greenough, Esq., F.R. and L.S.</li>
-  <li class='c004'>H. Hallam, Esq., F.R.S., M.A.</li>
-  <li class='c004'>M. D. Hill, Esq., M.P.</li>
-  <li class='c004'>Rowland Hill, Esq., F.R.A.S.</li>
-  <li class='c004'>Edwin Hill, Esq.</li>
-  <li class='c004'>Rt. Hon. Sir J. C. Hobhouse, Bart. M.P., Secretary at War.</li>
-  <li class='c004'>David Jardine, Esq., M.A.</li>
-  <li class='c004'>The Rt. Hon. the Lord Chief Justice of England.</li>
-  <li class='c004'>Henry B. Ker, Esq.</li>
-  <li class='c004'>Th. Hewitt Key, Esq., M.A.</li>
-  <li class='c004'>George C. Lewis, Esq., M.A.</li>
-  <li class='c004'>Edward Lloyd, Esq., M.A.</li>
-  <li class='c004'>James Loch, Esq., M.P., F.G.S.</li>
-  <li class='c004'>George Long, Esq., M.A.</li>
-  <li class='c004'>J. W. Lubbock, Esq., F.R., R.A. and L.S.S.</li>
-  <li class='c004'>Zachary Macaulay, Esq.</li>
-  <li class='c004'>H. Malden, Esq., M.A.</li>
-  <li class='c004'>Sir B. H. Malkin, M.A.</li>
-  <li class='c004'>A. T. Malkin, Esq., M.A.</li>
-  <li class='c004'>James Manning, Esq.</li>
-  <li class='c004'>J. Herman Merivale, Esq., F.A.S.</li>
-  <li class='c004'>James Mill, Esq.</li>
-  <li class='c004'>W. H. Ord, Esq., M.P.</li>
-  <li class='c004'>Rt. Hon. Sir H. Parnell, Bt. M.P.</li>
-  <li class='c004'>Rt. Hon. T. S. Rice, M.P., F.A.S., Secretary to the Treasury.</li>
-  <li class='c004'>Dr. Roget, Sec. R.S., F.R.A.S.</li>
-  <li class='c004'>Sir M. A. Shee, P.R.A., F.R.S.</li>
-  <li class='c004'>Rev. Richard Sheepshanks, M.A.</li>
-  <li class='c004'>J. Smith, Esq., M P.</li>
-  <li class='c004'>Wm. Sturch, Esq.</li>
-  <li class='c004'>Dr. A. T. Thomson, F.L.S.</li>
-  <li class='c004'>N. A. Vigors, Esq., M.P., F.R.S.</li>
-  <li class='c004'>John Ward, Esq.</li>
-  <li class='c004'>H. Waymouth, Esq.</li>
-  <li class='c004'>J. Whishaw, Esq., M.A., F.R.S.</li>
-  <li class='c004'>John Wrottesley, Esq., M.A., Sec. R.A.S.</li>
-</ul>
-
-<div class='nf-center-c1'>
-<div class='nf-center c003'>
-    <div><span class='large'>LOCAL COMMITTEES.</span></div>
-  </div>
-</div>
-
-<ul class='index'>
-  <li class='c004'><em>Anglesea</em>—Rev. E. Williams.
-    <ul>
-      <li>Rev. W. Johnson.</li>
-      <li>Mr. Miller.</li>
-    </ul>
-  </li>
-  <li class='c004'><em>Ashburton</em>—J. F. Kingston, Esq.</li>
-  <li class='c004'><em>Bilston</em>—Rev. W. Leigh.</li>
-  <li class='c004'><em>Birmingham</em>—Reverend J. Corrie, F.R.S. <em>Chairman</em>.
-    <ul>
-      <li>Paul Moon James, Esq., <em>Treasurer</em>.</li>
-      <li>Jos. Parkes, Esq. }</li>
-      <li>W. Redfern, Esq. &#8196;} <em>Honorary Secs.</em></li>
-    </ul>
-  </li>
-  <li class='c004'><em>Bonn</em>—Leonard Horner, Esq., F.R.S.L. &amp; E.</li>
-  <li class='c004'><em>Bristol</em>—J. N. Sanders, Esq., <em>Chairman</em>.
-    <ul>
-      <li>J. Reynolds, Esq., <em>Treasurer</em>.</li>
-      <li>J. B. Estlin, Esq., F.L.S., <em>Secretary</em>.</li>
-    </ul>
-  </li>
-  <li class='c004'><em>Bury St. Edmunds</em>—B. Bevan, Esq.</li>
-  <li class='c004'><em>Cambridge</em>—Rev. James Bowstead, M.A.
-    <ul>
-      <li>Rev. Prof. Henslow, M.A., F.L.S. &amp; G.S.</li>
-      <li>Rev. Leonard Jenyns, M.A., F.L.S.</li>
-      <li>Rev. John Lodge, M.A.</li>
-      <li>Rev. Geo. Peacock, M.A. F.R.S. &amp; G.S.</li>
-      <li>Rev. Prof. Sedgwick M.A., F.R.S. &amp; G.S.</li>
-      <li>Professor Smyth, M.A.</li>
-      <li>Rev. C. Thirlwall, M.A.</li>
-      <li>B. W. Rothman, Esq., M.A., F.R.A.S. and G.S.</li>
-      <li>Rev. George Waddington.</li>
-    </ul>
-  </li>
-  <li class='c004'><em>Canterbury</em>—Alexander B. Higgins. Esq.</li>
-  <li class='c004'><em>Canton</em>—J. F. Davis, Esq., F.R.S.</li>
-  <li class='c004'><em>Carnarvon</em>—R. A. Poole, Esq.
-    <ul>
-      <li>William Roberts, Esq.</li>
-    </ul>
-  </li>
-  <li class='c004'><em>Chester</em>—Hayes Lyon, Esq.
-    <ul>
-      <li>Dr. Cumming.</li>
-      <li>Dr. Jones.</li>
-      <li>Henry Potts, Esq.</li>
-      <li>Dr. Thackery.</li>
-      <li>Rev. Mr. Thorp.</li>
-      <li>—— Wardell, Esq.</li>
-      <li>—— Wedge, Esq.</li>
-    </ul>
-  </li>
-  <li class='c004'><em>Chichester</em>—Dr. Forbes, F.R.S., Dr. Sanden, and C. C. Dendy, Esq.</li>
-  <li class='c004'><em>Coventry</em>—Arthur Gregory.</li>
-  <li class='c004'><em>Denbigh</em>—John Maddocks, Esq.
-    <ul>
-      <li>Thomas Evans, Esq.</li>
-    </ul>
-  </li>
-  <li class='c004'><em>Derby</em>—Joseph Strutt, Esq.</li>
-  <li class='c004'><em>Devonport</em>—Lt. Col J. Hamilton Smith, F.R. and L.S.
-    <ul>
-      <li>John Coles, Esq.</li>
-    </ul>
-  </li>
-  <li class='c004'><em>Etruria</em>—Jos. Wedgwood, Esq.</li>
-  <li class='c004'><em>Exeter</em>—Rev. J. P. Jones.
-    <ul>
-      <li>J. Tyrrell, Esq.</li>
-    </ul>
-  </li>
-  <li class='c004'><em>Glasgow</em>—K. Finlay, Esq.
-    <ul>
-      <li>D. Bannatyne, Esq.</li>
-      <li>Rt. Grahame, Esq.</li>
-      <li>Professor Mylne.</li>
-      <li>Alexander McGrigor, Esq.</li>
-      <li>Mr. T. Atkinson, <em>Honorary Secretary</em>.</li>
-    </ul>
-  </li>
-  <li class='c004'><em>Glamorganshire</em>—Dr. Malkin, Cowbridge.
-    <ul>
-      <li>Rev. B. R, Paul, Lantwit.</li>
-      <li>W. Williams, Esq. Aberpergwm.</li>
-    </ul>
-  </li>
-  <li class='c004'><em>Holywell</em>—The Rev. J. Blackwall.</li>
-  <li class='c004'><em>Keighley, Yorkshire</em>—Rev. T. Dury, M.A.</li>
-  <li class='c004'><em>Launceston</em>—Rev. J. Barfitt.</li>
-  <li class='c004'><em>Leamington Spa</em>—Dr. Loudon, M.D.</li>
-  <li class='c004'><em>Leeds</em>—J. Marshall, Esq.
-    <ul>
-      <li>Benjamin Gott, Esq.</li>
-      <li>J. Marshall, Jun., Esq.</li>
-    </ul>
-  </li>
-  <li class='c004'><em>Lewes</em>—J. W. Woollgar, Esq.</li>
-  <li class='c004'><em>Liverpool Local Association</em>—Dr. Traill, <em>Chairman</em>.
-    <ul>
-      <li>J. Mulleneux, Esq., <em>Treasurer</em>.</li>
-      <li>Rev. W. Sheperd.</li>
-      <li>J. Ashton Yates, Esq.</li>
-    </ul>
-  </li>
-  <li class='c004'><em>Ludlow</em>—T. A. Knight, Esq., P.H.S.</li>
-  <li class='c004'><em>Maidenhead</em>—R. Goolden, Esq., F.L.S.</li>
-  <li class='c004'><em>Manchester Local Association</em>—G. W. Wood, Esq., M.P., <em>Chairman</em>.
-    <ul>
-      <li>Benjamin Heywood, Esq., <em>Treasurer</em>.</li>
-      <li>T. W. Winstanley, Esq., <em>Hon. Sec.</em></li>
-      <li>Sir G. Philips, Bart., M.P.</li>
-    </ul>
-  </li>
-  <li class='c004'><em>Monmouth</em>—J. H. Moggridge, Esq.</li>
-  <li class='c004'><em>Neath</em>—John Rowland, Esq.</li>
-  <li class='c004'><em>Newcastle</em>—James Losh, Esq.
-    <ul>
-      <li>Rev. W. Turner.</li>
-    </ul>
-  </li>
-  <li class='c004'><em>Newport</em>—Ab. Clarke, Esq.
-    <ul>
-      <li>T. Cooke, Jun., Esq.</li>
-      <li>R. G. Kirkpatrick, Esq.</li>
-    </ul>
-  </li>
-  <li class='c004'><em>Newport Pagnell</em>—J. Millar, Esq.</li>
-  <li class='c004'><em>Newton, Montgomeryshire</em>—W. Pugh, Esq.</li>
-  <li class='c004'><em>Norwich</em>—Rt. Hon. Lord Suffield.
-    <ul>
-      <li>Richard Bacon, Esq.</li>
-    </ul>
-  </li>
-  <li class='c004'><em>Plymouth</em>—George Harvey, Esq., F.R.S.</li>
-  <li class='c004'><em>Rippon</em>—Rev. H. P. Hamilton, M.A., F.R.S. and G.S.
-    <ul>
-      <li>Rev. P. Ewart, M.A.</li>
-    </ul>
-  </li>
-  <li class='c004'><em>Ruthen</em>—Rev. the Warden of.
-    <ul>
-      <li>Humphreys Jones, Esq.</li>
-    </ul>
-  </li>
-  <li class='c004'><em>Sheffield</em>—J. H. Abraham, Esq.</li>
-  <li class='c004'><em>Shrewsbury</em>—R. A. Slaney, Esq., M.P.</li>
-  <li class='c004'><em>South Petherton</em>—John Nicholetts, Esq.</li>
-  <li class='c004'><em>St. Asaph</em>—Rev. George Strong.</li>
-  <li class='c004'><em>Stockport</em>—H. Marsland, Esq., <em>Treasurer</em>.
-    <ul>
-      <li>Henry Coppock, Esq., <em>Secretary</em>.</li>
-    </ul>
-  </li>
-  <li class='c004'><em>Tavistock</em>—Rev. W. Evans.
-    <ul>
-      <li>John Rundle, Esq.</li>
-    </ul>
-  </li>
-  <li class='c004'><em>Warwick</em>—Dr. Conolly.
-    <ul>
-      <li>The Rev. William Field, (<em>Leamington</em>).</li>
-    </ul>
-  </li>
-  <li class='c004'><em>Waterford</em>—Sir John Newport. Bart., M.P.</li>
-  <li class='c004'><em>Wolverhampton</em>—J. Pearson, Esq.</li>
-  <li class='c004'><em>Worcester</em>—Dr. Corbett, M.D.
-    <ul>
-      <li>Dr. Hastings. M.D.</li>
-      <li>C. H. Hebb, Esq.</li>
-    </ul>
-  </li>
-  <li class='c004'><em>Wrexham</em>—Thomas Edgworth, Esq.
-    <ul>
-      <li>J. E. Bowman, Esq., F.L.S., <em>Treasurer</em>.</li>
-      <li>Major William Lloyd.</li>
-    </ul>
-  </li>
-  <li class='c004'><em>Yarmouth</em>—C. E. Rumbold, Esq., M.P.
-    <ul>
-      <li>Dawson Turner, Esq.</li>
-    </ul>
-  </li>
-  <li class='c004'><em>York</em>—Rev. J. Kenrick, M.A.
-    <ul>
-      <li>John Wood, Esq., M.P.</li>
-    </ul>
-  </li>
-</ul>
-
-<div class='nf-center-c1'>
-  <div class='nf-center'>
-    <div>THOMAS COATES, <em>Secretary</em>, No. 59, Lincoln’s Inn Fields.</div>
-    <div class='c003'>Printed by <span class='sc'>William Clowes</span>, Stamford Street.</div>
-  </div>
-</div>
-
-<div class='pbb'>
- <hr class='pb c002' />
-</div>
-
-<div class='nf-center-c1'>
-  <div class='nf-center'>
-    <div><span class='small'>UNDER THE SUPERINTENDENCE OF THE SOCIETY FOR THE DIFFUSION OF USEFUL KNOWLEDGE.</span></div>
-  </div>
-</div>
-
-<div>
-  <h1 class='c005'><span class='small'>THE</span><br /> GALLERY OF PORTRAITS:<br /> <span class='xsmall'>WITH</span><br /> <span class='xlarge'>MEMOIRS.</span><br /> <br /> <span class='large'>VOLUME I.</span></h1>
-</div>
-
-<div class='nf-center-c1'>
-<div class='nf-center c003'>
-    <div>LONDON:</div>
-    <div class='c002'>CHARLES KNIGHT, PALL-MALL EAST.</div>
-    <div class='c003'>1833.</div>
-    <div class='c003'><span class='xsmall'>PRICE ONE GUINEA, BOUND IN CLOTH.</span></div>
-  </div>
-</div>
-
-<div class='pbb'>
- <hr class='pb c002' />
-</div>
-
-<div class='chapter'>
-  <h2 class='c006'>PORTRAITS AND BIOGRAPHIES<br /> <span class='large'>CONTAINED IN THIS VOLUME.</span></h2>
-</div>
-
-<table class='table0' summary='PORTRAITS AND BIOGRAPHIES'>
-  <tr>
-    <th class='c007'></th>
-    <th class='c008'>&nbsp;</th>
-    <th class='c009'>Page.</th>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td class='c007'>1.</td>
-    <td class='c008'>Dante</td>
-    <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_1'>1</a></td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td class='c007'>2.</td>
-    <td class='c008'>Sir H. Davy</td>
-    <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_11'>11</a></td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td class='c007'>3.</td>
-    <td class='c008'>Kosciusko</td>
-    <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_21'>21</a></td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td class='c007'>4.</td>
-    <td class='c008'>Flaxman</td>
-    <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_27'>27</a></td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td class='c007'>5.</td>
-    <td class='c008'>Copernicus</td>
-    <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_34'>34</a></td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td class='c007'>6.</td>
-    <td class='c008'>Milton</td>
-    <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_43'>43</a></td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td class='c007'>7.</td>
-    <td class='c008'>Jas. Watt</td>
-    <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_55'>55</a></td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td class='c007'>8.</td>
-    <td class='c008'>Turenne</td>
-    <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_63'>63</a></td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td class='c007'>9.</td>
-    <td class='c008'>Hon. R. Boyle</td>
-    <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_72'>72</a></td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td class='c007'>10.</td>
-    <td class='c008'>Sir I. Newton</td>
-    <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_79'>79</a></td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td class='c007'>11.</td>
-    <td class='c008'>Michael Angelo</td>
-    <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_89'>89</a></td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td class='c007'>12.</td>
-    <td class='c008'>Moliere</td>
-    <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_95'>95</a></td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td class='c007'>13.</td>
-    <td class='c008'>C. J. Fox</td>
-    <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_103'>103</a></td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td class='c007'>14.</td>
-    <td class='c008'>Bossuet</td>
-    <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_113'>113</a></td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td class='c007'>15.</td>
-    <td class='c008'>Lorenzo de Medici</td>
-    <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_122'>122</a></td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td class='c007'>16.</td>
-    <td class='c008'>Geo. Buchanan</td>
-    <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_129'>129</a></td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td class='c007'>17.</td>
-    <td class='c008'>Fénélon</td>
-    <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_137'>137</a></td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td class='c007'>18.</td>
-    <td class='c008'>Sir C. Wren</td>
-    <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_144'>144</a></td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td class='c007'>19.</td>
-    <td class='c008'>Corneille</td>
-    <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_153'>153</a></td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td class='c007'>20.</td>
-    <td class='c008'>Halley</td>
-    <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_161'>161</a></td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td class='c007'>21.</td>
-    <td class='c008'>Sully</td>
-    <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_169'>169</a></td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td class='c007'>22.</td>
-    <td class='c008'>N. Poussin</td>
-    <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_177'>177</a></td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td class='c007'>23.</td>
-    <td class='c008'>Harvey</td>
-    <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_185'>185</a></td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td class='c007'>24.</td>
-    <td class='c008'>Sir J. Banks</td>
-    <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_193'>193</a></td>
-  </tr>
-</table>
-
-<div class='nf-center-c1'>
-<div class='nf-center c001'>
-    <div>LONDON:</div>
-    <div>PRINTED BY W. CLOWES</div>
-    <div>Stamford Street.</div>
-  </div>
-</div>
-
-<div  class='figcenter id001'>
-<img src='images/i_001fp.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' />
-<div class='ic001'>
-<p><em>Engraved by C. E. Wagstaff.</em><br /><br />DANTE ALIGHIERI.<br /><br /><em>From a Print by Raffaelle Morghen, after a Picture by Tofanelli.</em><br /><br />Under the Superintendance of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge.<br /><br /><em>London. Published by Charles Knight, Pall Mall East.</em></p>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<div class='ph1'>
-
-<div class='nf-center-c1'>
-<div class='nf-center c001'>
-    <div>GALLERY OF PORTRAITS.</div>
-  </div>
-</div>
-
-</div>
-
-<div  class='figcenter id002'>
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_1'>1</span>
-<img src='images/i_001.jpg' alt='DANTE' class='ig001' />
-</div>
-
-<div class='chapter'>
-  <h2 class='c006'>DANTE</h2>
-</div>
-
-<p class='c011'>While the more northern nations of modern Europe began to
-cultivate a national and peculiar literature in their vernacular tongues,
-instead of using Latin as the only vehicle of written thought, it was
-some time before the popular language of Italy received that attention
-which might have been expected from the prevalence of free institutions,
-and the constant intercourse between neighbouring states
-speaking in similar dialects. At last the example of other countries
-prevailed, and a native poetry sprung up in Italy. If it be allowable
-to compare the progress of the national mind to the stages of life, the
-Italian Muse may be said to have been born in Sicily with Ciullo
-d’Alcamo in 1190; to have reached childhood in Lombardy with
-Guido Guinicelli, about 1220; and to have attained youth in Tuscany
-with Guido Cavalcanti, about 1280. But she suddenly started into
-perfect maturity when Dante appeared, surpassing all his predecessors
-in lyrical composition, and astounding the world with that mighty
-monument of Christian poetry, which after five centuries of progressive
-civilization still stands sublime as one of the most magnificent productions
-of genius.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_2'>2</span>Dante Alighieri, the true founder of Italian literature, was born at
-Florence A.D. 1265, of a family of some note. The name of Dante,
-by which he is generally known, often mistaken for that of his family,
-is a mere contraction of his Christian name Durante. Yet an infant
-when his father died, that heavy loss was lightened by the judicious
-solicitude with which his mother superintended his education. She
-intrusted him to the care of Brunetto Latini, a man of great repute as
-a poet as well as a philosopher; and he soon made so rapid a progress,
-both in science and literature, as might justify the most sanguine
-hopes of his future eminence.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Early as he developed the extraordinary powers of his understanding,
-he was not less precocious in evincing that susceptibility to deep
-and tender impressions, to which he afterwards owed his sublimest
-inspirations. But his passion was of a very mysterious character. It
-arose in his boyhood, for a girl “still in her infancy,” and it never
-ceased, or lost its intensity, though she died in the flower of her age,
-and he survived her more than thirty years. Whether he was enamoured
-of a human being, or of a creature of his own imagination,—one
-of those phantoms of heavenly beauty and virtue so common to the
-dreams and reveries of youth,—it is extremely difficult to ascertain.
-Some of his biographers are of opinion that the lady whom he has
-celebrated in his works under the name of Bice, or Beatrice, was the
-daughter of Folco Portinari, a noble Florentine; while others contend
-that she is merely a personification of wisdom or moral philosophy.
-But Dante’s own account of his love is given in terms often so enigmatical
-and apparently contradictory, that it is almost impossible to
-make them agree perfectly with either of these suppositions.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Whatever its object, his affection seems to have been most chaste
-and spiritual in its nature. Instead of alienating him from literary
-pursuits, it increased his thirst after knowledge, and ennobled and
-purified his feelings. With the aid of this powerful incentive, he soon
-distinguished himself above the youth of his native city, not only by his
-acquirements, but also by elegance of manners, and amenity of temper.
-Thus occupied by his studies, refined and exalted by his love, and cherished
-by his countrymen, the morning of his life was sunned by the
-unclouded smiles of fortune, as if to render darker by the contrast the
-long and gloomy evening which awaited him.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>His pilgrimage on earth was cast in one of the most stormy periods
-recorded in history. The Church and the Empire had been long
-engaged in a scandalous contest, and had often involved a great
-part of Europe in their quarrels. Italy was especially distracted by
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_3'>3</span>two contending parties, the Guelfs, who adhered to the Pope, and the
-Ghibelines, who espoused the cause of the Emperor. In the year 1266,
-after a long alternation of ruinous reverses and ferocious triumphs,
-the Guelfs of Florence drove the Ghibelines out of their city, and at
-last permanently established themselves in power. The family of
-Dante belonged to the victorious party; and while he remained in
-Florence, it would have been dangerous, perhaps impossible, to avoid
-mingling in these civil broils. He accordingly went out against the
-Ghibelines of Arezzo in 1289; and in the following year against those
-of Pisa. In the former campaign he took part in the battle of Campaldino,
-in which, after a long and doubtful conflict, the Aretines were
-completely defeated. On that memorable day he fought valiantly in
-the front line of the Guelf cavalry, manifesting the same energy in
-warfare, which he had displayed in his studies and in his love.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>But soon after the tumults of the camp had interfered with the calm
-of his private and meditative life, his adored Beatrice, whether an
-earthly mistress, or an abstraction of his moral and literary studies, was
-torn from him. This loss, which in his writings he never ceases to
-lament, reduced him to extreme despondency. Nevertheless in 1291,
-but a few months after it, he married a lady of the noble family
-of the Donati, by whom he had numerous<a id='t3'></a> offspring; a circumstance
-which would indicate a strange inconsistency of character, had his
-heart been really preoccupied by another love. This connexion
-with one of the first families of the republic may have smoothed his
-way to civic eminence; but if Boccaccio, usually a slanderer of the
-fair sex, be credited, the lady’s temper proved unfavourable to domestic
-comfort.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>He now entirely devoted himself to the business of government, and
-attained such reputation as a statesman, that hardly any transaction of
-importance took place without his advice. It has even been asserted
-that he was employed in no less than fourteen embassies to foreign
-courts. There may be some exaggeration in this statement; but it is
-certain that in 1300, at the early age of five and thirty, he was elected
-one of the Priors, or chief magistrates of the republic; a mark of
-popular favour which ended in his total ruin.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>About this time, the Guelfs of Florence split into two new divisions
-called Bianchi and Neri (whites and blacks), from the denominations
-of two factions which had originated at Pistoja, in consequence
-of a dispute between two branches of the Cancellieri family.
-The Bianchi were chiefly citizens recently risen to importance, who,
-having received no personal injury from the Ghibelines, were disposed
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_4'>4</span>to treat them with moderation; while the Neri consisted almost
-entirely of ancient nobles, who, having formerly been the leaders of
-the Guelfs, still retained a furious animosity against the Ghibelines.
-All endeavours to bring them to a reconciliation proved useless: they
-soon passed from rancour to contumely, and from contumely to open
-violence. The city was now in the utmost confusion, and was very
-near being turned into a scene of war and carnage, when the Priors,
-hardly knowing what course to pursue, invoked the advice of Dante.
-His situation was most perplexing and critical. The relations of his
-wife were at the head of the Neri; while Guido Cavalcante, his dearest
-friend on earth, was one of the foremost leaders of the Bianchi.
-Nevertheless, silencing all the claims of private affection for the good
-of his country, he proposed to banish the principal agitators of both
-parties. By the adoption of this measure, public tranquillity was
-for a time restored. But Pope Boniface VIII. could not suffer independent
-citizens to govern the republic. He sent Charles de Valois to
-Florence under colour of pacifying the contending parties, but in truth
-to re-establish in power the men most blindly devoted to his own
-interests. The French prince, after having made the most solemn
-promises to the Florentine government, that he would act with rigorous
-impartiality and adopt only conciliatory measures, obtained admission
-into the city, at the beginning of November, 1301. Making no
-account of the engagements he had entered into, he now permitted
-the Neri to perpetrate the most atrocious outrages on the families of
-their opponents, and to close this scene of horror by pronouncing
-sentence of exile and confiscation upon six hundred of the most illustrious
-citizens. Dante was among the victims. He had made himself
-obnoxious, both to the Neri, whom he had caused to be banished, and
-to Charles de Valois, whose intrusion in the internal affairs of the
-commonwealth he had firmly opposed in council. Accordingly, his
-house was pillaged and razed, his property confiscated, and his life
-saved only by his absence at Rome, whither he had been sent for the
-purpose of propitiating the Pope. Highly disgusted at the treacherous
-conduct of Boniface, who had been deluding him all the while with
-vain hopes and honeyed words, he suddenly left Rome, and hastened to
-Siena. On his arrival he heard that he had been charged with embezzling
-the public money, and condemned to be burned, if he should
-fall into the hands of his enemies. His indignation now reached its
-height; and in despair of ever being restored to his native city except
-by arms, he repaired to Arezzo, and united his exertions to those of
-the other Bianchi, who, making common cause with the Ghibelines,
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_5'>5</span>formed themselves into an army with the object of entering Florence
-by force. But their hopes were disappointed; and after four years of
-abortive attempts they dispersed, each in pursuit of his own fortune.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>The noble, opulent citizen, the statesman and minister, the profound
-philosopher, accustomed in all and each of these characters to the
-respectful homage of his countrymen, was now, to use his own words,
-“driven about by the cold wind that springs out of sad poverty,” and
-compelled “to taste how bitter is another’s bread, how hard it is to
-mount and to descend another’s stairs.” But the change from affluence
-to want was not the worst evil that awaited the high-minded patriot in
-banishment. For this he found compensation in the consciousness of
-having done his duty to his country. But he suffered much more from
-being mixed, and sometimes even confounded, with other exiles, whose
-perverse actions tended to disgrace the cause for which he had sacrificed
-all his private affections and interests. His misery was carried
-to the utmost by a continual struggle between his nice sense of honour
-and the pressure of want; by an excessive fear that his intentions
-might be misunderstood, and a constant readiness to mistake those of
-others. This morbid feeling he has pathetically expressed in several
-passages, which can scarce be read without profound emotion.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>In this mental torture he wandered throughout Italy, from town to
-town, and from the palace of one of his benefactors to that of another,
-without ever finding a resting place for his wounded spirit. He stooped
-in vain to address letters of supplication to the Florentines; the rancour
-of his enemies was not to be softened by prayers. Meanwhile
-the hopes of the Ghibelines were again raised, when Henry VII., who
-had been elected Emperor in 1308, entered Italy to regain the rights
-of sovereignty which his predecessors had lost. Elated by the better
-prospects which appeared to open, Dante became a strenuous advocate
-of the imperial cause. He composed a treatise on monarchy, in which
-he asserted the rights of the empire against the encroachments of the
-Court of Rome: he wrote a circular both to the Kings and Princes of
-Italy, and to the Senators of Rome, admonishing them to give an
-honourable reception to their Sovereign; and he sent a hortatory epistle
-to the Emperor himself, urging him to turn his arms against Florence,
-and to visit that refractory city with severe punishment. Henry did
-accordingly lay siege to Florence in September, 1312, but without
-success; and the hopes of the Ghibelines were finally extinguished in
-the following August, by his death, under strong suspicion of poison.
-Thus Dante, in consequence of his recent conduct, saw himself farther
-than ever from restoration to his beloved Florence. The unfortunate
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_6'>6</span>exile, now reduced to despair, resumed his wanderings, often
-returning to Verona, where the Scaligeri family always received him
-at their court with peculiar kindness. It has been asserted that his
-thirst for knowledge led him to Paris and Oxford. His journey to
-England is still involved in doubt; but it appears certain, that he visited
-Paris, where he is said to have acquired great fame, by holding public
-disputations on several questions of theology.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>On his return to Italy, he at length found a permanent refuge at
-Ravenna, at the court of Guido da Polenta, the father of that ill-fated
-Francesca da Rimini, for whom the celebrated episode of Dante
-has engaged the sympathy of succeeding ages. The reception
-which he experienced from this Prince, who was a patron of learning
-and a poet, was marked by the reverence due to his character, no less
-than by the kindness excited by his misfortunes. In order to employ
-his diplomatic talents, and give him the pleasing consciousness of
-being useful to his host, Guido sent him as ambassador, to negotiate a
-peace with Venice. Dante, happy at having an opportunity of evincing
-his gratitude to his benefactor, proceeded on his mission with sanguine
-expectation of success. But being unable to obtain a public audience
-from the Venetians, he returned to Ravenna, so overwhelmed with
-fatigue and mortification, that he died shortly afterwards, in the fifty-seventh
-year of his age, <span class='sc'><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">A. D.</span></span> 1321, receiving splendid obsequies from
-his disconsolate patron, who himself assumed the office of pronouncing
-a funeral oration on the dead body.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>The portrait of Dante has been handed down to posterity, both by
-history and the arts. He is represented as a man of middle stature,
-with a pensive and melancholy expression of countenance. His face
-was long, his nose aquiline, his eyes rather prominent, but full of fire,
-his cheek bones large, and his under lip projecting beyond the upper
-one; his complexion was dark, his hair and beard thick and curled.
-These features were so marked, that all his likenesses, whether on
-medals, or marble, or canvas, bear a striking resemblance to each
-other. Boccaccio describes him as grave and sedate in his manners,
-courteous and civil in his address, and extremely temperate in his way
-of living; whilst Villani asserts, that he was harsh, reserved, and
-disdainful in his deportment. But the latter writer must have painted
-Dante such as he was in his exile, when the bitter cup of sorrow had
-changed the gravity of his temper into austerity. He spoke seldom,
-but displayed a remarkable subtleness in his answers. The consciousness
-of worth had inspired him with a noble pride which spurned
-vice in all its aspects, and disdained condescending to any thing like
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_7'>7</span>flattery or dissimulation. Earnest in study, and attached to solitude,
-he was at times liable to fits of absence. The testimony of his contemporaries,
-and the still better evidence of his own works, prove that
-his hours of seclusion were heedfully employed. He was intimately
-conversant with several languages; extensively read in classical literature,
-and deeply versed in the staple learning of the age, scholastic
-theology, and the Aristotelian philosophy. He had acquired a considerable
-knowledge of geography, astronomy, and mathematics; had
-made himself thoroughly acquainted with mythology and history, both
-sacred and profane; nor had he neglected to adorn his mind with the
-more elegant accomplishments of the fine arts.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>The mass of Dante’s writings, considering the unfavourable circumstances
-under which he laboured, is almost as wonderful as the
-extent of his attainments. The treatise ‘<span lang="la" xml:lang="la">De Monarchia</span>,’ which he
-composed on the arrival of Henry VII. in Italy, is one of the most
-ingenious productions that ever appeared, in refutation of the temporal
-pretensions of the Court of Rome. It was hailed with triumphant
-joy by the Ghibelines, and loaded with vituperation by the Guelfs.
-The succeeding emperor, Lewis of Bavaria, laid great stress on its
-arguments as supporting his claims against John XXII.; and on that
-account, the Pope had it burnt publicly by the Cardinal du Pujet, his
-legate in Lombardy, who would even have disinterred and burnt
-Dante’s body, and scattered his ashes to the wind, if some influential
-citizens had not interposed. Another Latin work, ‘<span lang="la" xml:lang="la">De Vulgari Eloquentia</span>,’
-treats of the origin, history, and use of the genuine Italian
-tongue. It is full of interesting and curious research, and is still
-classed among the most judicious and philosophical works that Italy
-possesses on the subject. He meant to have comprised it in four
-books, but unfortunately only lived to complete two.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Of his Italian productions, the earliest was, perhaps, the ‘<span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Vita
-Nuova</span>,’ a mixture of mysterious poetry and prose, in which he gives a
-detailed account of his love for Beatrice. It is pervaded by a spirit of
-soft melancholy extremely touching; and it contains several passages
-having all the distinctness and individuality of truth; but, on the other
-hand, it is interspersed with visions and dreams, and metaphysical conceits,
-from which it receives all the appearance of an allegorical invention.
-He also composed about thirty sonnets, and nearly as many
-‘<span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Canzoni</span>,’ or songs, both on love and morality. The sonnets, though
-not destitute of grace and ingenuity, are not distinguished by any
-particular excellence. The songs display a vigour of style, a sublimity
-of thought, a depth of feeling, and a richness of imagery not
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_8'>8</span>known before: they betoken the poet and the philosopher. On fourteen
-of these, he attempted in his old age to write a minute commentary,
-to which he gave the title of ‘<span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Convito</span>,’ or Banquet, as being
-intended “to administer the food of wisdom to the ignorant;” but he
-could only extend it to three. Thus he produced the first specimen of
-severe Italian prose; and if he indulged rather too much in fanciful
-allegories and scholastic subtleties, these blemishes are amply counterbalanced
-by a store of erudition, an elevation of sentiment, and a
-matchless eloquence, which it is difficult not to admire.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>These works, omitting several others of inferior value, would have
-been more than sufficient to place Dante above all his contemporaries;
-yet, they stand at an immeasurable distance from the ‘Divina Commedia,’
-the great poem by which he has recommended his name to the
-veneration of the remotest posterity. The Divine Comedy is the narrative
-of a mysterious journey through hell, purgatory, and paradise,
-which he supposes himself to have performed in the year 1300, during
-the passion week, having Virgil as his guide through the two regions
-of woe, and Beatrice through that of happiness. No creation of
-the human mind ever excelled this mighty vision in originality
-and vastness of design; nor did any one ever choose a more appropriate
-subject for the expression of all his thoughts and feelings.
-The mechanical construction of his spiritual world allowed him room
-for developing his geographical and astronomical knowledge: the
-punishments and rewards allotted to the characters introduced, gave
-him an excellent opportunity for a display of his theological and
-philosophical learning: the continual succession of innumerable spirits
-of different ages, nations, and conditions, enabled him to expatiate in
-the fields of ancient and modern history, and to expose thoroughly the
-degradation of Italian society in his own times; while the whole
-afforded him ample scope for a full exertion of his poetical endowments,
-and for the illustration of the moral lesson, which, whatever
-his real meaning may have been, is ostensibly the object of his poem.
-Neither were his powers of execution inferior to those of conception.
-Rising from the deepest abyss of torture and despair, through every
-degree of suffering and hope, up to the sublimest beatitude, he imparts
-the most vivid and intense dramatic interest to a wonderful variety of
-scenes which he brings before the reader. Awful, vehement, and
-terrific in hell, in proportion as he advances through purgatory and
-paradise, he contrives to modify his style in such a manner as to
-become more pleasing in his images, more easy in his expressions,
-more delicate in his sentiments, and more regular in his versification.
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_9'>9</span>His characters live and move; the objects which he depicts are clear
-and palpable; his similes are generally new and just; his reflections
-evince throughout the highest tone of morality; his energetic
-language makes a deep and vigorous impression both on the reason
-and the imagination; and the graphic force with which, by a few
-bold strokes, he throws before the eye of his reader a perfect and
-living picture, is wholly unequalled.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>It is true, however, that his constant solicitude for conciseness and
-effect led him, sometimes, into a harsh and barbarous phraseology, and
-into the most unrestrained innovations; but considering the rudeness
-of his age, and the unformed state of his language, he seems hardly open
-to the censure of a candid critic on this account. On the other hand, it
-is impossible not to wonder how, in spite of such obstacles, he could so
-happily express all the wild conceptions of his fancy, the most abstract
-theories of philosophy, and the most profound mysteries of religion. The
-occasional obscurity and coldness of the Divine Comedy proceeds much
-less from defects of style, than from didactic disquisitions and historical
-allusions which become every day less intelligible and less interesting.
-To be understood and appreciated as a whole, and in its
-parts, it requires a store of antiquated knowledge which is now of
-little use. Even at the period of its publication, when its geography
-and astronomy were not yet exploded, its philosophy and theology
-still current, and many of its incidents and personages still fresh in
-the memory of thousands, it was considered rather as a treasure of
-moral wisdom, than as a book of amusement. The city of Florence,
-and several other towns of Italy, soon established professorships for the
-express purpose of explaining it to the public. Two sons of Dante
-wrote commentaries for its illustration: Boccaccio, Benvenuto da
-Imola, and many others followed the example in rapid succession;
-and even a few years since Foscolo and Rossetti excited fresh curiosity
-and interest by the novelty of their views. Notwithstanding the
-learning and ingenuity of all its expositors, the hidden meaning of the
-‘Divina Commedia’ is not yet perfectly made out, though Rossetti, in
-his ‘<span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Spirito Antipapale</span>,’ lately published, seems to have shown, that
-under the exterior of moral precepts, it contains a most bitter satire
-against the court of Rome. But whether time shall remove these
-obscurities, or thicken the mist which hangs around this extraordinary
-production, it will be ever memorable as the mighty work which gave
-being and form to the beautiful language of Italy, impressed a new
-character on the poetry of modern Europe, and inspired the genius
-of Michael Angelo and of Milton.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_10'>10</span>There is no life of Dante which can be recommended as decidedly
-superior to the rest. The earliest is that of Boccaccio; but it evidently
-cannot be relied on for the facts of his life. There are others by
-Lionardo, Aretino, Fabroni, Pelli, Tiraboschi, &amp;c. The English
-reader will find a fuller account prefixed to Mr. Carey’s translation
-of the ‘Divina Commedia,’ and in Mr. Stebbing’s Lives of the Italian
-Poets.</p>
-
-<div  class='figcenter id003'>
-<img src='images/i_010.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' />
-</div>
-
-<div  class='figcenter id001'>
-<img src='images/i_011fp.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' />
-<div class='ic001'>
-<p><em>Engraved by E. Scriven.</em><br /><br />SIR HUMPHREY DAVY.<br /><br /><em>From the original Picture by</em><br />Sir Thomas Lawrence<br /><em>in the possession of the Royal Society</em>.<br /><br />Under the Superintendance of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge.<br /><br /><em>London. Published by Charles Knight, Pall Mall East.</em></p>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<div  class='figcenter id002'>
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_11'>11</span>
-<img src='images/i_011.jpg' alt='DAVY' class='ig001' />
-</div>
-
-<div class='chapter'>
-  <h2 class='c006'>DAVY</h2>
-</div>
-
-<p class='c011'>Where the length of the memoir necessarily bears a small proportion
-to the quantity of matter which presses on the biographer’s attention,
-two courses lie open to his choice; either to select a few remarkable
-passages in his subject’s life for full discussion, or to give a general
-and popular sketch of his personal history. The latter plan seems here
-the more advisable. To many readers a minute analysis of Davy’s
-physical researches would be unintelligible, without full explanations
-of the very instruments and objects with, and upon which, he worked.
-We shall therefore make it our chief object to trace his private
-history, interspersing notices of his labours and discoveries, but leaving
-to publications of expressly scientific character the task of doing
-justice to his scientific fame. Both departments have been fully treated
-in the Life published by Dr. Paris.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Humphry Davy was born near Penzance in Cornwall, December 17,
-1778, of a family in independent, though humble circumstances, which
-for a century and a half had possessed and resided upon a small estate
-situated in Mount’s Bay. Though no prodigy of precocious intellect,
-his childhood gave reasonable promise of future talent; and especially
-manifested the dawning of a vivid imagination, united with a strong
-turn for experiments in natural philosophy. One of his favourite
-amusements was to exhibit to his playfellows the operation of melting
-in a candle scraps of tin; or to make and explode detonating
-balls. Another was the inventing and repeating to them fairy
-tales and romances. At times, however, he would exercise his
-eloquence upon graver subjects; and, when no better could be
-obtained, the future lecturer is said to have found a staid, if not
-attentive, audience in a circle of chairs. At an early age he was placed
-at school at Penzance, where, in the usual acceptation of the words, he
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_12'>12</span>profited little: his own opinion, however, was different. “I consider
-it fortunate,” he wrote to a member of his family, “that I was left
-much to myself as a child, and put upon no particular plan of study,
-and that I enjoyed much idleness at Mr. Coryton’s school. I perhaps
-owe to these circumstances the little talents that I have, and their
-peculiar application: what I am, I have made myself. I say this without
-vanity, and in pure simplicity of heart.” He was soon removed to the
-school at Truro, where he remained two years, undistinguished except
-by a love of poetry, which manifested itself in composition at an early
-age. This, indeed, continued to be a favourite amusement, until, in
-mature life, he became absorbed in scientific pursuits: and it has been
-said upon high authority, that if Davy had not been the first chemist,
-he would have been the first poet of his age. This opinion must
-look for support, not to his metrical productions, which in truth
-nowise justify it, but to the vivid imagination and high powers of
-eloquence, which, in the vigour and freshness of youth, delighted the
-fashionable, as much as his discoveries amazed the scientific world.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>In 1794 his father died, and his mother in consequence removed
-from Varfell, the patrimonial estate, to Penzance, where Davy was
-apprenticed to Mr. Borlase, a surgeon in that town. For the medical
-part of his new profession he showed distaste; but his attention was
-at once turned to the study of chemistry, which he pursued thenceforward
-with undeviating zeal. Akin to this pursuit, and fostered by the
-natural features of his native country, was his early taste for geology.
-“How often,” said Davy to his friend and biographer on being shown a
-drawing of Botallack mine,—“how often when a boy have I wandered
-about these rocks in search of new minerals, and when fatigued, sat
-down upon the turf, and exercised my fancy in anticipations of scientific
-renown.” The notoriety which, in a small town, he readily
-acquired as the boy who was “so fond of chemical experiments,”
-introduced him to a valuable friend, Mr. Davies Gilbert, in early life
-his patron, in mature age his successor in the chair of the Royal
-Society. By him the young man was introduced to Dr. Beddoes,
-who was at that time seeking an assistant in conducting the Pneumatic
-Institution, then newly established at Bristol, for the purpose
-of investigating the properties of aeriform fluids, and the possibility
-of using them as medical agents. It was not intended that, in
-forming this engagement, Davy should give up the line of life marked
-out for him; on the contrary, his abode at Bristol was considered part
-of his professional education. But his genius led him another way,
-and this lucky engagement opened a career of usefulness and fame,
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_13'>13</span>which under other circumstances might have been long delayed. The
-arrangement was concluded upon liberal terms, and in October, 1798,
-before he was twenty years old, he left his home in high spirits to
-enter upon independent life. It is to his honour, that as soon as a
-competent, though temporary provision was thus secured, he resigned,
-in favour of his mother and sisters, all his claims upon the paternal
-estate.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Soon after removing to Bristol, he published, in a work entitled
-‘Contributions to Medical and Physical Knowledge,’ edited by Dr.
-Beddoes, some essays on heat, light, and respiration. Of these it will be
-sufficient to say, that with much promise of future excellence, they
-show a most unbridled imagination, and contain many speculations so
-unfounded and absurd, that in after-life he bitterly regretted their
-publication. During his engagement, his zeal and intrepidity were
-signally displayed in attempts to breathe different gases, supposed, or
-known, to be highly destructive to life, with a view to ascertain the
-nature of their effects. Two of these experiments, the inhaling of
-nitrous gas and carburetted hydrogen are remarkable, because in each
-he narrowly escaped death. But his attention was especially turned
-to the gas called nitrous oxide, which, upon respiration, appeared to
-transport the breather into a new and highly pleasurable state of
-feeling, to rouse the imagination, and give new vigour to the most
-sublime emotions of the soul. The effects produced, exaggerated by
-the enthusiasm of the patients, were in fact closely analogous to intoxication;
-and many persons still remember the curiosity and amusement,
-excited by the freaks of poets and grave philosophers, while under the
-operation of this novel stimulus. In 1800 he published ‘Researches
-Chemical and Philosophical, respecting Nitrous Oxide and its Respiration.’
-The novelty of the results announced, combined with the ability
-shown in their investigation, and the youth of the author, produced a
-great sensation in philosophical circles; and through the celebrity thus
-acquired, and the favourable opinion of him formed upon personal
-acquaintance by several eminent philosophers of the day, he was offered
-by the conductors of the Royal Institution, the office of Assistant
-Lecturer in Chemistry, with the understanding that ere long he should
-be made sole Professor. This negotiation took place in the spring of
-1801, and on May 31, 1802, he was raised to the higher appointment.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>To Davy, the quitting Bristol for London was the epoch of a transformation—an
-elevation from the chrysalis to the butterfly state. In
-youth his person, voice, and address were alike uncouth; and at first
-sight they produced so unfavourable an impression upon Count Rumford,
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_14'>14</span>that he expressed much regret at having sanctioned so unpromising
-an engagement. The veteran philosopher soon found reason to
-change his opinion. Davy’s first course of lectures, which was not
-delivered till the spring of 1802, excited a sensation unequalled before
-or since. Not only the philosophical but the literary and fashionable
-world crowded to hear him; and his vivid imagination, fired by enthusiastic
-love for the science which he professed, gave, to one of the most
-abstruse of studies, a charm confessed by persons the least likely to feel
-its influence. The strongest possible testimony to his richness of
-illustration is supplied by Mr. Coleridge:—“I go,” he said, “to Davy’s
-lectures to increase my stock of metaphors.” Had this been all, the
-young prodigy would soon have ceased to dazzle; but his fame was
-maintained and increased by the success which waited on his undertakings;
-and, in a word, Davy became the lion of the day. The effect
-of this sudden change was by no means good. Sought and caressed by
-the highest circles of the metropolis, he endeavoured to assume the
-deportment of a man of fashion; but the strange dress sat awkwardly,
-and ill replaced a natural candour and warmth of feeling, which had
-singularly won upon the acquaintance of his early life. It is but
-justice, however, to add that his regard for his family and early friends
-was not cooled by this alteration in his society and prospects.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Our limits are too narrow to admit even a sketch of the various
-trains of original investigation pursued by Davy, during his connection
-with the Institution. Of these, the most important is that series
-of electrical inquiries pursued from 1800 to 1806, the results of which
-were developed in his celebrated first Bakerian Lecture, delivered
-in the autumn of the latter year, before the Royal Society, which
-received from the French Institute the prize of 3000 francs, established
-by the First Consul, for the best experiment in electricity or galvanism.
-In it he investigated the nature of electric action, and disclosed a new
-class of phenomena illustrative of the power of the Voltaic battery in
-decomposing bodies; which, in the following year, led to the most
-striking of his discoveries, the resolution of the fixed alkalies, potash
-and soda, into metallic bases. This discovery took place in October,
-1807, and was published in his second Bakerian Lecture, delivered in
-the following November. The novelty and brilliancy of the view thus
-opened, raised public curiosity to the highest pitch: the laboratory of
-the Institution was crowded with visitors, and the high excitement thus
-produced, acting upon a frame exhausted by fatigue, produced a violent
-fever, in which for many days, he lay between life and death. Not until
-the following March was he able to resume his duties as a lecturer.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_15'>15</span>During the next four years he was chiefly employed in endeavouring
-to decompose other bodies, in prosecuting his inquiries into the nature
-of the alkalies and in obtaining similar metallic bases from the earths,
-in which he partially succeeded. The resolution of nitrogen was
-attempted without success. In tracing the nature of muriatic and oxymuriatic
-acid, he was more fortunate; and proved the latter to be an
-undecompounded substance, in direct opposition to his own opinion,
-recorded at an earlier period. This discovery is the more honourable,
-for nothing renders the admission of truth so difficult, as having advocated
-error.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>On the 8th April, 1812, he received the honour of knighthood from
-the Prince Regent, in testimony of his scientific merits. This was
-the more welcome, because he was on the eve of exchanging a life of
-professional labour for one, not of idleness, for he pursued his course
-of discovery with unabated zeal, but of affluence and independence.
-On the 11th of the same month, he married Mrs. Apreece, a lady possessed
-of ample fortune; previous to which he delivered his farewell
-lecture to the Royal Institution. At the same time he appears to have
-resigned the office of Secretary to the Royal Society, to which he had
-been appointed in 1807. Two months afterwards he published
-‘Elements of Chemical Philosophy,’ which he dedicated to Lady
-Davy, “as a pledge that he should continue to pursue science with
-unabated ardour.” In March, 1813, appeared the ‘Elements of
-Agricultural Chemistry,’ containing the substance of a course of lectures
-delivered for ten successive seasons before the Board of Agriculture.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>That part of the Continent which was under French influence,
-being strictly closed against the English at this time, it is much to the
-credit of Napoleon, that he immediately assented to a wish expressed
-by Davy, and seconded by the Imperial Institute, that he might be
-allowed to visit the extinct volcanoes in Auvergne, and thence proceed
-to make observations on Vesuvius while in a state of action. He
-reached Paris, Oct. 27th, 1813. The French philosophers received
-him with enthusiasm: it is to be regretted that at the time of his departure
-their feelings were much less cordial. There was a coldness,
-and pride, or what seemed pride, in his manner, which disgusted a
-body of men too justly sensible of their own merit to brook slights;
-especially when, in spite of national jealousy, they had done most cordial
-and unhesitating justice to the transcendent achievements of the
-British philosopher. Nor was this the only ground for dissatisfaction.
-Iodine had been recently discovered in Paris, but its nature was still
-unknown. Davy obtained a portion, and proceeded to experiment upon
-it. This was thought by many an unfair interference with the fame
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_16'>16</span>and rights of the original investigators. Davy himself felt that some
-explanation at least was due, in a paper which he transmitted to the
-Royal Society; and as the passage in question contained what, though
-perhaps not meant to be such, might easily be construed into an
-insinuation, that but for him, the results communicated in that
-paper might not have been obtained, it was not likely to conciliate.
-There is probably much truth in the excuse offered by his biographer,
-for the superciliousness charged against him upon this, and other occasions,
-that it was merely the cloak of a perpetual and painful timidity.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>It is remarkable that, with a highly poetical temperament, he seems
-to have been senseless to the beauties of art. The wonders of the Louvre
-extracted no sign of pleasure: he paced the rooms with hurried steps,
-in apathy, roused only by the sight of an Antinous sculptured in alabaster,
-“Gracious Heaven!” he then exclaimed, “what a beautiful
-stalactite.”</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>From Paris, Dec. 29th, he proceeded without visiting Auvergne, to
-Montpellier, Genoa, Florence, Rome, and Naples, which he reached
-May 8th, 1814. At various places he prosecuted his researches upon
-iodine; and at Florence, he availed himself of the great burning lens
-to experiment upon the combustion of the diamond, and other forms
-of carbon. At Naples and Rome he instituted a minute and laborious
-inquiry into the colours used in painting by the ancients; the results
-of which appeared in the Philosophical Transactions for 1815.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>The autumn of 1815 is rendered memorable by the discovery of the
-safety-lamp, one of the most beneficial applications of science to economical
-purposes yet made, by which hundreds, perhaps thousands, of
-lives have been preserved. Davy was led to the consideration of this
-subject by an application from Dr. Gray, now Bishop of Bristol, the
-Chairman of a Society established in 1813, at Bishop-Wearmouth, to
-consider and promote the means of preventing accidents by fire in
-coal-pits. Being then in Scotland, he visited the mines on his return
-southward, and was supplied with specimens of fire-damp, which, on
-reaching London, he proceeded to examine. He soon discovered
-that the carburetted hydrogen gas, called fire-damp by the miners,
-would not explode when mixed with less than six, or more than fourteen
-times its volume of air; and further, that the explosive mixture
-could not be fired in tubes of small diameters and proportionate lengths.
-Gradually diminishing their dimensions, he arrived at the conclusion
-that a tissue of wire, in which the meshes do not exceed a certain
-small diameter, which may be considered as the ultimate limit
-of a series of such tubes, is impervious to the inflamed air; and that
-a lamp covered with such tissue, may be used with perfect safety even
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_17'>17</span>in an explosive mixture, which takes fire, and burns within the cage,
-securely cut off from the power of doing harm. Thus when the
-atmosphere is so impure that the flame of the lamp itself cannot be
-maintained, the <em>Davy</em> still supplies light to the miner, and turns his
-worst enemy into an obedient servant. This invention, the certain
-source of large profit, he presented with characteristic liberality to the
-public. The words are preserved, in which when pressed to secure to
-himself the benefit of it by a patent, he declined to do so, in conformity
-with the high-minded resolution which he formed upon acquiring
-independent wealth, of never making his scientific eminence
-subservient to gain:—“I have enough for all my views and purposes,
-more wealth might be troublesome, and distract my attention from
-those pursuits in which I delight. More wealth could not increase my
-fame or happiness. It might undoubtedly enable me to put four horses
-to my carriage, but what would it avail me to have it said, that Sir
-Humphry drives his carriage and four?” He who used wealth and
-distinction to such good purpose, may be forgiven the weakness if he
-estimated them at too high a value.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>The coal-owners of the north presented to him a service of plate, in
-testimony of their gratitude. He underwent, however, considerable
-vexation from claims to priority of invention, set up by some persons
-connected with the collieries, whose attention had been turned with
-very imperfect success to the same end. The controversy has long
-been settled in his favour, by the decision of the most eminent names
-in British science, and the general voice of the owners of the Newcastle
-coal-field: and while the pits are worked, the name of Davy, given by
-the colliers to the safety-lamp, cannot be forgotten.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>In 1818 he again visited Naples, with a view of applying the resources
-of chemistry to facilitate the unrolling of the papyri found in
-Herculaneum. These, it is well known, are generally in a state resembling
-charcoal, often cemented into a solid mass, and the texture so
-entirely destroyed, that it is hardly possible to separate the layers.
-Examination of some specimens transmitted to England satisfied him
-that they had not been subjected to heat, and that instead of being a true
-charcoal, they were analogous to peat or to the lignite called Bovey
-coal. He concluded, therefore, that the rolls were cemented into one
-mass by a substance produced by fermentation in their vegetable substance,
-and hoped to be able so far to destroy this, as to facilitate the
-detaching one layer from another, without obliterating the writing.
-With this view he submitted fragments to the operation of chlorine
-and iodine, with such fair hope of success, that he was encouraged to
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_18'>18</span>proceed to Naples; the Government furnishing him with every recommendation,
-and defraying the expenses of such assistants as he thought
-it necessary to take out. His success, however, fell short of his hopes;
-and partly from disappointment, partly from a belief that unfair obstacles
-were thrown in his way by interested persons, he abandoned the
-undertaking at the end of two months, having partially unrolled twenty-three
-MSS. and examined about one hundred and twenty, which offered
-no prospect of success. His visit to Naples led, however, to one conclusion
-of interest to geologists, that the strata which cover Herculaneum
-are not lava, but a tufa consolidated by moisture, and resembling that
-at Pompeii except in its hardness.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>In October, 1818, Sir Humphry Davy was created a baronet, as a
-reward for his scientific services. Soon after his return to England
-in 1820, died Sir Joseph Banks, the venerable President of the Royal
-Society. Davy succeeded to the chair, which he retained till forced
-to quit it by ill health, zealous in fulfilling its duties, without relaxing
-in his private labours. It would have been better had he not obtained
-this honour. His scientific pride disgusted some; his aristocratic airs,
-unpardonable in one so humbly born, excited the ridicule of others.
-Much of this weakness may be traced to the pernicious effects of early
-flattery. Had he been content with chemical fame, he would have
-spared some mortifications and heart-burnings both to himself and
-others. His demeanour changed, immediately after the delivery of his
-first lecture. On the following day he dined with his early friend and
-patron, Sir Henry Englefield, who, speaking of his behaviour on that
-day after eighteen years had elapsed, said, “It was the last effort
-of expiring nature.” Such frailties, though just grounds of censure
-and regret to his contemporaries, will be lost in the splendour of his
-discoveries. Yet is the observation of them not useless as a warning
-to others: for the higher the station, the more closely will the actions
-of him who fills it be scrutinised, especially if his elevation be the
-work of his own hands.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>In 1823 he undertook, in consequence of an application from
-Government to the Royal Society, an inquiry into the possibility of
-preventing the rapid decay of the copper sheathing of ships. His
-former Voltaic discoveries at once explained the cause and suggested a
-remedy. When two metals in contact with each other are exposed to
-moisture, the more oxidable rapidly decays, while on the less oxidable
-no effect is produced. Thus a very small piece of iron or zinc was
-found effectually to stop the solution of a very large surface of copper.
-Several ships were accordingly fitted with <em>protectors</em>, as they were
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_19'>19</span>called, which succeeded perfectly in preserving the copper; but their
-use was found to be attended by an evil greater than that which they
-remedied. The ships’ bottoms grew foul with unexampled rapidity;
-and the protectors were finally abandoned by the Admiralty in 1828.
-This failure was a source of much ill-natured remark to the many
-whom Davy had offended, or who were jealous of his reputation, and
-of deep mortification to himself. Indeed he displayed an impatience
-of censure, and irritability of temper, far from dignified: the spoilt
-child of fortune, he could not bear the feeling of defeat, still less
-the triumph of his enemies. This weakness may perhaps be partly
-ascribed to declining health, which must always more or less overcloud
-the mind, especially of one whose amusements as well as his
-employments were of an active and stirring kind. To the sports of
-fly-fishing and shooting he was devotedly attached; and jealous, even
-to a ludicrous degree, of his reputation and success, which it is said not
-always to have been so great as he would willingly have had it believed.
-But his failing health gradually curtailed his enjoyment of these pleasures,
-and towards the end of 1825, the indisposition which his friends
-had long seen stealing on him reached its crisis in the form of an
-apoplectic attack. All immediate cause of alarm was soon removed; but
-the traces of his illness remained in a slight degree of paralysis, which
-impaired, though without materially affecting, his muscular powers.
-By the advice of his physicians he hastened abroad, and passed the rest
-of the winter, and the spring, at Ravenna. In the summer he visited
-the Tyrol and Illyria, and finding his health still precarious, resigned
-the chair of the Royal Society. In the autumn he returned to England,
-having gained little strength. The early winter he spent in Somersetshire,
-at the house of an old and valued friend, too weak for severe
-mental exertion, or to pursue successfully his favourite sports. Yet
-the ruling passion was still shown in the amusement of his sick hours,
-which were chiefly devoted to the preparation of ‘Salmonia.’ Of the
-merits of this book as a manual for the fly-fisher, we presume not to
-speak. To the general reader it may be safely recommended, as containing
-many eloquent and poetical passages, with much amusing
-information respecting the varieties and habits of the trout and salmon
-species, and of the insect tribes on which they feed.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>In the spring of 1828, Davy once more sought the Continent in
-search of health. His steps were turned to that favourite district, of
-which he speaks as the “most glorious country in Europe, Illyria and
-Styria;” where he solaced the weary hours of sickness, by such field-sports
-as his failing health enabled him to pursue, in the revision of an
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_20'>20</span>improved edition of ‘Salmonia,’ and in the composition of the ‘Last
-Days of a Philosopher.’ Of this he says, in a letter dated Rome,
-February 6, 1829, “I write and philosophise a good deal, and have
-nearly finished a work with a higher aim than ‘Salmonia.’ It contains
-the essence of my philosophical opinions, and some of my poetical
-reveries.” Under this sanction, the reader will peruse with pleasure
-the sketch contained in the third dialogue of a geological history of
-the earth, and the other questions of natural philosophy which are discussed.
-A large portion of the work is occupied by metaphysical and
-religious disquisitions. As a moral philosopher, his opinions do not
-seem entitled to peculiar weight. Of his visionary excursion to the
-limits of the solar system, it is not fair to speak but as the play of an
-exuberant imagination, mastering the sober faculties of the mind. The
-work contains many passages, reflective and descriptive, of unusual
-beauty; and is a remarkable production to have been composed under
-the wasting influence of that disease, which, of all others, usually
-exerts the most benumbing influence.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>The winter of 1828–9 he spent at Rome; with returning spring
-he expressed a wish to visit Geneva, but his hours were numbered.
-He reached that city on May 28, unusually cheerful; dined heartily
-on fish, and desired to be daily supplied with every variety which the
-lake afforded: a trifling circumstance, yet interesting from its connection
-with his love of sport. In the course of the night he was
-seized with a fresh attack, and expired early in the morning without
-a struggle. His remains were honoured by the magistrates with a
-public funeral, and repose in the cemetery of Plain Palais. He died
-without issue, and the baronetcy is in consequence extinct.</p>
-
-<div  class='figcenter id003'>
-<img src='images/i_020.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' />
-</div>
-
-<div  class='figcenter id001'>
-<img src='images/i_021fp.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' />
-<div class='ic001'>
-<p><em>Engraved by W. Holl.</em><br /><br />KOSCIUSZKO.<br /><br /><em>From a Print engraved in 1829 by A. Pleszczynski, a Pole.</em><br /><br />Under the Superintendance of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge.<br /><br /><em>London. Published by Charles Knight, Pall Mall East.</em></p>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<div  class='figcenter id002'>
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_21'>21</span>
-<img src='images/i_021.jpg' alt='KOSCIUSKO.' class='ig001' />
-</div>
-
-<div class='chapter'>
-  <h2 class='c006'>KOSCIUSKO</h2>
-</div>
-
-<p class='c011'>Among the remarkable men of modern times, there is perhaps none,
-whose fame is purer from reproach, than that of Thaddeus Kosciusko.
-His name is enshrined in the ruins of his unhappy country, which,
-with heroic bravery and devotion, he sought to defend against foreign
-oppression, and foreign domination. Kosciusko was born at Warsaw,
-about the year 1755. He was educated at the school of Cadets, in
-that city, where he distinguished himself so much in scientific studies
-as well as in drawing, that he was selected as one of four students
-of that institution, who were sent to travel at the expense of the
-state, with a view of perfecting their talents. In this capacity
-he visited France, where he remained for several years, devoting
-himself to studies of various kinds. On his return to his own country
-he entered the army, and obtained the command of a company. But
-he was soon obliged to expatriate himself again, in order to fly from
-a violent but unrequited passion, for the daughter of the Marshal of
-Lithuania, one of the first officers of state of the Polish court.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>He bent his step to that part of North America, which was then
-waging its war of independence against England. Here he entered
-the army, and served with distinction, as one of the adjutants of
-General Washington. While thus employed, he became acquainted
-with La Fayette, Lameth, and other distinguished Frenchmen, serving
-in the same cause; and was honoured by receiving the most flattering
-praises from Franklin, as well as the public thanks of the Congress
-of the United Provinces. He was also decorated with the new
-American order of Cincinnatus, being the only European, except
-La Fayette, to whom it was given.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>At the termination of the war he returned to his own country, where
-he lived in retirement till the year 1789, at which period he was
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_22'>22</span>promoted by the Diet to the rank of Major-General. That body was
-at this time endeavouring to place its military force upon a respectable
-footing, in the vain hope of restraining and diminishing the
-domineering influence of foreign powers, in what still remained of
-Poland. It also occupied itself in changing the vicious constitution of
-that unfortunate and ill-governed country—in rendering the monarchy
-hereditary—in declaring universal toleration—and in preserving the
-privileges of the nobility, while at the same time it ameliorated the
-condition of the lower orders. In all these improvements, Stanislas
-Poniatowski, the reigning king, readily concurred; though the avowed
-intention of the Diet was, to render the crown hereditary in the Saxon
-family. The King of Prussia (Frederic William II.), who, from the
-time of the Treaty of Cherson in 1787, between Russia and Austria,
-had become hostile to the former power, also encouraged the Poles
-in their proceedings; and even gave them the most positive assurances
-of assisting them, in case the changes they were effecting occasioned
-any attacks from other sovereigns.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Russia at length, having made peace with the Turks, prepared to
-throw her sword into the scale. A formidable opposition to the
-measures of the Diet had arisen, even among the Poles themselves,
-and occasioned what was called the confederation of Targowicz, to
-which the Empress of Russia promised her assistance. The feeble
-Stanislas, who had proclaimed the new constitution, in 1791, bound
-himself in 1792 to sanction the Diet of Grodno, which restored the
-ancient constitution, with all its vices and all its abuses. In the meanwhile,
-Frederic William, King of Prussia, who had so mainly contributed
-to excite the Poles to their enterprises, basely deserted them,
-and refused to give them any assistance. On the contrary, he stood
-aloof from the contest, waiting for that share of the spoil, which the
-haughty Empress of the north might think proper to allot to him, as
-the reward of his non-interference.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>But though thus betrayed on all sides, the Poles were not disposed
-to submit without a struggle. They flew to arms, and found in the
-nephew of their king, the Prince Joseph Poniatowski, a general worthy
-to conduct so glorious a cause. Under his command Kosciusko first
-became known in European warfare. He distinguished himself in
-the battle of Zielenec, and still more in that of Dubienska, which took
-place on the 18th of June, 1792. Upon this latter occasion, he
-defended for six hours, with only four thousand men, against fifteen
-thousand Russians, a post which had been slightly fortified in twenty-four
-hours, and at last retired with inconsiderable loss.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>But the contest was too unequal to last; the patriots were overwhelmed
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_23'>23</span>by enemies from without, and betrayed by traitors within, at
-the head of whom was their own sovereign. The Russians took possession
-of the country, and proceeded to appropriate those portions of
-Lithuania and Volhynia, which suited their convenience; while Prussia,
-the friendly Prussia, invaded another part of the kingdom.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Under these circumstances, the most distinguished officers in the
-Polish army retired from the service, and of this number was Kosciusko.
-Miserable at the fate of his unhappy country, and at the same
-time an object of suspicion to the ruling powers, he left his native land,
-and retired to Leipsic; where he received intelligence of the honour
-which had been conferred upon him by the Legislative Assembly of
-France, who had invested him with the quality of a French citizen.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>But his fellow-countrymen were still anxious to make another
-struggle for independence; and they unanimously selected Kosciusko
-as their chief and generalissimo. He obeyed the call, and found the
-patriots eager to combat under his orders. Even the noble Joseph
-Poniatowski, who had previously commanded in chief, returned from
-France, whither he had retired, and received from the hands of Kosciusko
-the charge of a portion of his army.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>The patriots had risen in the north of Poland, to which part Kosciusko
-first directed his steps. Anxious to begin his campaign with
-an action of vigour, he marched rapidly towards Cracow, which town
-he entered triumphantly on the 24th of March, 1794. He forthwith
-published a manifesto against the Russians; and then, at the head of
-only five thousand men, he marched to meet their army. He encountered,
-on the 4th of April, ten thousand Russians at a place called
-Wraclawic; and entirely defeated them, after a combat of four hours.
-He returned in triumph to Cracow, and shortly afterwards marched
-along the left bank of the Vistula to Polaniec, where he established
-his head quarters.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Meanwhile the inhabitants of Warsaw, animated by the recital of
-the heroic deeds of their countrymen, had also raised the standard of
-independence, and were successful in driving the Russians from the
-city, after a murderous conflict of three days. In Lithuania and
-Samogitia an equally successful revolution was effected, before the end
-of April; while the Polish troops stationed in Volhynia and Podolia,
-marched to the reinforcement of Kosciusko.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Thus far fortune seemed to smile upon the cause of Polish
-freedom—the scene was, however, about to change. The undaunted
-Kosciusko, having first organised a national council to conduct the
-affairs of government, again advanced against the Russians. On his
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_24'>24</span>march, he met a new enemy, in the person of the faithless Frederic
-William of Prussia; who, without having even gone through the
-preliminary of declaring war, had advanced into Poland, at the head
-of forty thousand men.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Kosciusko, with but thirteen thousand men, attacked the Prussian
-army on the 8th of June, at Szcekociny. The battle was long and
-bloody; at length, overwhelmed with numbers, he was obliged to retreat
-towards Warsaw. This he effected in so able a manner, that his
-enemies did not dare to harass him in his march; and he effectually
-covered the capital, and maintained his position for two months against
-vigorous and continued attacks. Immediately after this reverse the
-Polish General Zaionczeck lost the battle of Chelm, and the Governor
-of Cracow had the baseness to deliver the town to the Prussians,
-without attempting a defence.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>These disasters occasioned disturbances among the disaffected at
-Warsaw, which, however, were put down by the vigour and firmness
-of Kosciusko. On the 13th of July, the forces of the Prussians and
-Russians, amounting to fifty thousand men, assembled under the walls
-of Warsaw, and commenced the siege of that city. After six weeks
-spent before the place, and a succession of bloody conflicts, the confederates
-were obliged to raise the siege; but this respite to the Poles
-was but of short duration.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Their enemies increased fearfully in number, while their own resources
-diminished. Austria now determined to assist in the annihilation of
-Poland, and caused a body of her troops to enter that kingdom. Nearly
-at the same moment, the Russians ravaged Lithuania; and the two
-corps of the Russian army, commanded by Suwarof and Fersen,
-effected their junction in spite of the battle of Krupezyce, which the
-Poles had ventured upon with doubtful issue, against the first of these
-commanders, on the 16th of September.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Upon receiving intelligence of these events, Kosciusko left Warsaw
-and placed himself at the head of the Polish army. He was attacked
-by the very superior forces of the confederates on the 10th of October,
-1794, at a place called Macieiowice; and for many hours supported
-the combat against overwhelming odds. At length he was severely
-wounded, and as he fell, he uttered the prophetic words, “<i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Finis
-Poloniæ</span></i>.” It is asserted, that he had exacted from his followers an
-oath, not to suffer him to fall alive into the hands of the Russians, and
-that in consequence the Polish cavalry, being unable to carry him off,
-inflicted some severe sabre wounds on him, and left him for dead on
-the field; a savage fidelity, which we half admire even in condemning it.
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_25'>25</span>Be this as it may, he was recognised and delivered from the plunderers
-by some Cossack chiefs; and thus was saved from death to meet a
-scarcely less harsh fate—imprisonment in a Russian dungeon.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Thomas Wawrzecki became the successor of Kosciusko in the command
-of the army; but with the loss of their heroic leader, all hope had
-deserted the breasts of the Poles. They still, however, fought with all
-the obstinacy of despair, and defended the suburb of Warsaw, called
-Praga, with great gallantry. At length this post was wrested from
-them. Warsaw itself capitulated on the 9th of November, 1794; and
-this calamity was followed by the entire dissolution of the Polish army
-on the 18th of the same month.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>During this time, Kosciusko remained in prison at Petersburgh;
-but, at the end of two years, the death of his persecutress the Empress
-Catherine released him. One of the first acts of the Emperor Paul
-was to restore him to liberty, and to load him with various marks
-of his favour. Among other gifts of the autocrat was a pension, by
-which, however, the high-spirited patriot would never consent to profit.
-No sooner was he beyond the reach of Russian influence than he returned
-to the donor the instrument, by which this humiliating favour
-was conferred. From this period the life of Kosciusko was passed in
-retirement. He went first to England, and then to the United States
-of America. He returned to the Old World in 1798, and took up his
-abode in France, where he divided his time between Paris, and a
-country-house he had bought near Fontainbleau. While here he
-received the appropriate present of the sword of John Sobieski, which
-was sent to him by some of his countrymen serving in the French
-armies in Italy, who had found it in the shrine at Loretto.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Napoleon, when about to invade Poland in 1807, wished to use the
-name of Kosciusko, in order to rally the people of the country round
-his standard. The patriot, aware that no real freedom was to be
-hoped for under such auspices, at once refused to lend himself to his
-wishes. Upon this the Emperor forged Kosciusko’s signature to an
-address to the Poles, which was distributed throughout the country.
-Nor would he permit the injured person to deny the authenticity of this
-act in any public manner. The real state of the case was, however,
-made known to many through the private representations of Kosciusko;
-but he was never able to publish a formal denial of the transaction till
-after the fall of Napoleon.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>When the Russians in 1814 had penetrated into Champagne, and
-were advancing towards Paris, they were astonished to hear that their
-former adversary was living in retirement in that part of the country.
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_26'>26</span>The circumstances of this discovery were striking. The commune in
-which Kosciusko lived was subjected to plunder, and among the troops
-thus engaged he observed a Polish regiment. Transported with anger
-he rushed among them, and thus addressed the officers: “When I commanded
-brave soldiers they never pillaged; and I should have punished
-severely subalterns who allowed of disorders such as those which we see
-around. Still more severely should I have punished older officers, who
-authorized such conduct by their culpable neglect.”—“And who are
-you,” was the general cry, “that you dare to speak with such boldness to
-us?”—“I am Kosciusko.” The effect was electric: the soldiery cast
-down their arms, prostrated themselves at his feet, and cast dust upon
-their heads according to a national usage, supplicating his forgiveness
-for the fault which they had committed. For twenty years the name of
-Kosciusko had not been heard in Poland save as that of an exile; yet
-it still retained its ancient power over Polish hearts; a power never
-used but for some good and generous end.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>The Emperor Alexander honoured him with a long interview, and
-offered him an asylum in his own country. But nothing could induce
-Kosciusko again to see his unfortunate native land. In 1815, he
-retired to Soleure, in Switzerland; where he died, October 16th, 1817,
-in consequence of an injury received by a fall from his horse. Not
-long before he had abolished slavery upon his Polish estate, and declared
-all his serfs entirely free, by a deed registered and executed
-with every formality that could ensure the full performance of his
-intention. The mortal remains of Kosciusko were removed to Poland
-at the expense of Alexander, and have found a fitting place of rest in
-the cathedral of Cracow, between those of his companions in arms,
-Joseph Poniatowski, and the greatest of Polish warriors, John Sobieski.</p>
-
-<div  class='figcenter id003'>
-<img src='images/i_026.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' />
-</div>
-
-<div  class='figcenter id001'>
-<img src='images/i_027fp.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' />
-<div class='ic001'>
-<p><em>Engraved by R. Woodman.</em><br /><br />JOHN FLAXMAN.<br /><br /><em>From the original Picture by</em><br />John Jackson,<br /><em>in the possession of the Right Hon. Lord Dover</em>.<br /><br />Under the Superintendance of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge.<br /><br /><em>London. Published by Charles Knight, Pall Mall East.</em></p>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<div  class='figcenter id002'>
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_27'>27</span>
-<img src='images/i_027.jpg' alt='FLAXMAN' class='ig001' />
-</div>
-
-<div class='chapter'>
-  <h2 class='c006'>FLAXMAN</h2>
-</div>
-
-<p class='c011'>It was not till the time of Banks and Flaxman, that the English
-school had produced any notable specimens of the lofty and heroic
-style in sculpture. Wilton, Bacon, and Nollekens, were respectable in
-their line, which was nearly confined to allegorical monuments and
-busts. Roubilliac, though eminently unclassical, possessed a superior
-style of art, and has executed some works which for strength and
-liveliness of expression may challenge competition in this or any other
-country. But the attainments and genius of the two first-mentioned
-artists were of a different, and a loftier class. Those, however, who
-trace the history of the lives of Flaxman and Banks, will find, that
-whatever they achieved in the higher departments of sculpture was
-due solely to their ardent pursuit of excellence, almost unaided by
-that patronage, which, in this country, has been so liberally bestowed
-on other branches of the fine arts.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>The heroic beauty and noble proportions of the Mourning Achilles,
-fully establish the claim of Banks to a high rank as a poetic sculptor;
-this fine work of art, however, remained for years in plaster during
-his life, and after his death was presented to the British Gallery, where
-it now stands in the hall, “as a warning,” observes Mr. Allan Cunningham,
-“to all sculptors who enter, that works of classic fancy find
-slender encouragement here!” With respect to Flaxman, in an early
-period of his professional career, he executed the outline illustrations
-of Homer, Æschylus, and Dante, which at once established his fame;
-and yet, during a long life, no single patron called upon him to
-embody in marble any one of these lofty conceptions, the very existence
-of which forms the chief glory of the English school of poetic
-design.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>The progress of sculpture in this country has been very recently
-traced by Mr. Allan Cunningham, in his amusing ‘Memoirs of
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_28'>28</span>British Sculptors.’ Of these, the last, and most interesting, is that
-of Flaxman, from the spirited and amusing pages of which, together
-with the memoir prefixed to the Lectures on Sculpture, this short
-account has been chiefly extracted.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>John Flaxman, the second son of a moulder of figures, who kept
-a shop in the Strand for the sale of plaster casts, was born in 1755.
-Like most who have been eminent as artists, he early manifested a
-taste for drawing. As soon as he could hold a pencil, he took delight
-in copying whatever he saw, and at an age when most children are
-engrossed with childish sports, he had read many books, and had begun
-to trace upon paper the lineaments and actions of those heroes who
-had engaged his fancy. Numerous stories are told of his fondness for
-that art to which his mature energies were devoted; and, allowing
-somewhat for the fond recollections of parents and friends, it is fully
-established that young Flaxman early showed proofs both of application
-and genius. To this development of his talents, his bodily
-constitution may have lent some aid, for his health from infancy was
-delicate, and a weak, and somewhat deformed frame, indisposed him
-from joining in the usual games of children.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>His station in life did not enable him to profit by the common
-means of education; he gathered his knowledge from various sources,
-and mastered what he wanted by some of those ready methods
-which form part of the inspirations of genius. The introduction,
-through the means of an early patron, Mr. Mathew, to Mrs. Barbauld,
-contributed to improve his education and form his taste.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>In his fifteenth year he became a student in the Royal Academy.
-Here he formed an intimacy with Blake and Stothard, both artists
-of original talent; but, like their more eminent companion, less
-favoured by fortune than many not so deserving of patronage and
-applause.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>At the Academy, Flaxman obtained the silver medal, but in the
-contest for the gold one, he was worsted by Engleheart, a name now
-entirely forgotten. Flaxman, however, though humbled and mortified,
-was only stimulated by this defeat to greater exertions and more
-unwearied application.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>The narrow circumstances of his father did not allow him to devote
-his whole time to unproductive study. His first employment was for
-the Wedgewoods; and to this fortunate combination of genius in the
-artist, and enterprise, skill, and taste in the manufacturers, the sudden
-and rapid improvement of the porcelain of this country is mainly to be
-ascribed. “The subjects executed by Flaxman were chiefly small
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_29'>29</span>groups in very low relief, from subjects of ancient verse and history;
-many of which,” observes Mr. A. Cunningham, “are equal in beauty
-and simplicity to his designs for marble: the Etruscan vases and
-the architectural ornaments of Greece supplied him with the finest
-shapes; these he embellished with his own inventions, and a taste
-for forms of elegance began to be diffused over the land. Flaxman
-loved to allude, even when his name was established, to these
-humble labours; and since his death, the original models have been
-eagerly sought after.” A set of chessmen, also executed for the
-Wedgewoods, are exceedingly beautiful.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Whilst earning by his labour a decent subsistence, he continued his
-devotion to the pursuit of his art, making designs from the Greek poets,
-the Pilgrim’s Progress, and the Bible. He exhibited various works
-at the Academy; but it does not appear that he was enabled by
-patronage to execute any of these in marble, and it is, perhaps, owing
-to the little practice that he had in early life in this mode of working,
-that his admitted want of excellence in this branch of the art of
-sculpture is to be attributed.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>In 1782 he left his father’s home, and married an amiable and
-accomplished woman, whose society and affection formed the chief
-happiness of his after life. All those who knew them, describe
-in glowing terms the harmony and mutual affection in which they
-lived. In 1787 he determined to visit Rome. Two monuments
-which he executed before his departure deserve notice. One is in
-memory of Collins. It represents the poet seated, reading what he
-told Dr. Johnson was his only book, ‘<span class='fss'>THE BIBLE</span>,’ whilst his lyre and
-poetical compositions lie neglected on the ground. The second is
-erected in Gloucester cathedral, to Mrs. Morley, who perished with
-her child at sea, and is represented as rising with the infant from the
-waves, at the summons of angels. The simple and serene beauty of
-this work is admirably suited for monumental sculpture.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>How he profited whilst at Rome by the study of those noble specimens
-of ancient art, to which modern artists resort as the best
-school of excellence, is shown in the outline illustrations of Homer,
-Æschylus, and Dante; works which spread his fame throughout
-Europe, and at once stamped the character of the English School of
-Design. These compositions, which have been the admiration of
-every nation where art is cultivated, which have been repeatedly
-published in Germany and Italy, as well as in England, and which
-have been commented on with unlimited praise by Schlegel, and
-almost every other modern writer on the fine arts, were made, the
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_30'>30</span>Homeric series for fifteen shillings; those taken from Æschylus
-and Dante, for one guinea each. It is not creditable to English
-taste that this country does not possess a single group, or even
-bas-relief, executed from them, although the author lived for more
-than thirty years after their publication.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Of the illustrations of the Iliad, there are in all thirty-nine; of the
-Odyssey, thirty-four. Of the designs from Dante, thirty-eight are
-taken from the Hell, thirty-eight from the Purgatory, and thirty-three
-from the Paradise. The Homeric series was made for Mrs.
-Hare. The illustrations of Æschylus were undertaken at the desire
-of the Countess Spencer; and those of the Divina Commedia were
-executed for Mr. Thomas Hope, one of Flaxman’s early patrons, for
-whom, whilst at Rome, he executed in marble a very beautiful small-sized
-group of Cephalus and Aurora.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Of these three series, the Homeric is the most popular. This
-preference may, perhaps, be accounted for by the Grecian poem being
-more generally familiar than that of Dante: yet the subject of the
-Divina Commedia in many respects appears to have been more congenial
-to the talents of the artist; and perhaps an impartial judgment
-will pronounce, that of all the works of Flaxman, the designs from
-Dante best exhibit his peculiar genius. During his stay at Rome he
-executed for Frederick, Earl of Bristol and Bishop of Derry, a
-group in marble, which consisted of four figures larger than life,
-representing the fury of Athamas, from Ovid’s Metamorphoses: by
-this he lost money, the price agreed on being only six hundred
-guineas; a sum insufficient to cover the expenses of the work. The
-recollection of this piece of patronage was so disgusting, to use the
-word by which he himself once characterized it, that in after life he
-could not bear to talk on the subject.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Whilst in Italy he made numerous drawings and memoranda upon
-ancient art, which afterwards formed the groundwork of his lectures
-on sculpture. After an absence of seven years he returned to England,
-and engaged a house in Buckingham-street, in which he continued
-to reside till his death.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>His first great work after his return was a monument to the Earl
-of Mansfield. In 1797 he was elected an associate, and in 1800, a
-member of the Royal Academy, to which he presented, on his admission,
-a marble group of Apollo and Marpessa. He visited for a short
-time, in 1802, the splendid collections of the Louvre, in order to
-revive his early recollection of the works of art which had been
-brought from Rome. In 1810, a professorship of sculpture having
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_31'>31</span>been established by the Academy, he was elected to fill the chair,
-and his lectures were commenced in 1811. Those who had formed
-high expectations of eloquence, and of felicity of diction and illustration,
-were disappointed. The sedate gravity of his manner, his unimpassioned
-tone, and the somewhat dull catalogue of statues and
-works of art which he occasionally introduced, conduced to tire a general
-audience. But the ten lectures, which have been published since
-his death, must always furnish an important manual to every student
-in sculpture. The lectures on Beauty, and the contrast of Ancient
-and Modern Sculpture, are peculiarly interesting, and embody nearly
-all which can be said on the leading principles of art. In addition
-to these lectures he wrote several anonymous articles, which are enumerated
-by Mr. Cunningham. These were the ‘Character of the
-Works of Romney,’ for Hayley’s life of that artist, and either the
-whole or part of the articles, Armour, Basso-relievo, Beauty, Bronze,
-Bust, Composition, Cast, Ceres, in Rees’s Cyclopædia. Many of the
-opinions put forth in these different essays he has embodied in his
-lectures.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Besides the designs already noticed, he executed numerous illustrations
-of the Pilgrim’s Progress, forty designs for Sotheby’s translation
-of Oberon, and thirty-six designs from Hesiod, illustrating the story of
-Pandora, and exhibiting the effects of her descent on earth. The subjects
-from Hesiod were those in which his poetic fancy appeared
-most to delight.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>In 1820, Flaxman lost his wife, with whom he had lived in uninterrupted
-happiness for thirty-eight years, and from the effects of this
-bereavement he seemed never entirely to recover. A beloved sister,
-and the sister of her whom he most loved, remained to him, and continued
-his companions till his death.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>At the time of this domestic misfortune the artist was in the
-zenith of his fame. Commissions poured in, and among them, one
-order especially worthy of his talents, for a group of the Archangel
-Michael vanquishing Satan, given by the Earl of Egremont, a
-nobleman who has omitted no opportunity of patronising the fine
-arts in this country. This group exhibits more grandeur of conception
-than any work of art of modern times. Unfortunately the
-marble of which it was cut was much discoloured, and the
-work was not entirely finished at his death. Amongst the finest
-of Flaxman’s later productions, Mr. Cunningham enumerates his
-Pysche, the pastoral Apollo (also in the possession of Lord Egremont),
-and two small statues of Michael Angelo and Raphael. But
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_32'>32</span>the most remarkable of them is the shield of Achilles, designed
-and modelled for Messrs. Rundell and Bridge, the silversmiths. The
-diameter is three feet, and the description of Homer has been strictly
-followed. In the centre is the chariot of the sun, in bold relief, almost
-starting from the surface, surrounded by the most remarkable of the
-heavenly bodies: around the rim is rolled the ever flowing ocean. The
-intermediate space is occupied by twelve scenes, beautifully designed
-in conformity with the words of the poet. For this the artist was paid
-£620. Four casts of it in silver were taken, the first for the late
-King, another for the Duke of York, the third for Lord Lonsdale, the
-fourth for the Duke of Northumberland.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Flaxman died on the 7th of December, 1826, of an inflammation of
-the lungs, the result of a cold. In person he was small, and slightly
-deformed, but his countenance was peculiarly placid and benign, and
-greatly expressive of genius. His dress, manners, and mode of life
-were simple in the extreme: he was never found at the parties of the
-rich and great, and mixed little even with his professional brethren.
-His life was spent in a small circle of affectionate friends, in his studio,
-and in his workshops, where those whom he employed looked up to
-him as a father.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Amongst the different classes of his works, the religious and the
-poetic were those in which he chiefly excelled. The number of pure
-and exalted conceptions, which he has left sketched in plaster or outlined
-in pencil, is quite extraordinary. “His solitude,” observes Sir Thomas
-Lawrence, “was made enjoyment to him by a fancy teeming with
-images of tenderness, purity, or grandeur. His genius, in the
-strictest sense of the word, was original and inventive.” Among
-the most important of his works not before noticed, is his monument
-to the memory of Sir Francis Baring, in Mitcheldever Church,
-Hants, a work of exquisite beauty, both in design and expression,
-embodying the words, “Thy kingdom come—thy will be done—deliver
-us from evil.” He also executed, among others, monuments to
-the memory of Mary Lushington, of Lewisham, in Kent, to the
-Countess Spencer, to the Rev. Mr. Clowes, of St. John’s Church,
-Manchester, and to the Yarborough family at Street Thorpe, near
-York. This last, and one to Edward Bulmer, representing an aged
-man instructing a youthful pair, Flaxman considered the best of his
-compositions.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>He executed several historical monuments to naval and military
-commanders. These deal too largely in emblems and allegories, Britannias,
-lions, victories, and wreaths of laurel, to add much to the reputation
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_33'>33</span>of the artist: especially as his forte lay in the exquisite feeling
-and grace of his conceptions, not in manual dexterity of execution;
-the chief merit to which such cold and uninteresting productions can
-lay claim. He executed statues of Sir Joshua Reynolds; of Sir John
-Moore, in bronze, of colossal size, for Glasgow; of Pitt, for the Town-Hall
-of the same city; of Burns; and of Kemble, in the character
-of Coriolanus. That of Sir Joshua Reynolds (one of his earliest)
-is perhaps the best. Many of his works were sent abroad: for
-India he executed a statue of the Rajah of Tanjore, and a monument
-to the celebrated Schwartz; two monuments in memory of Lord
-Cornwallis, a figure of Warren Hastings, and a statue of the Marquess
-of Hastings.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Since the death of Flaxman, six plates have been published by his
-sister, from his designs. The subjects are religious; the engravings
-are admirable fac-similes of the original drawings, which were made
-in his best time; and perhaps there is no published work of his more
-illustrative of the peculiar taste and genius of the artist.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Our Portrait has been engraved from a fine picture by Jackson, in
-the possession of Lord Dover. There is also an excellent portrait
-painted by Howard, and a good bust of Flaxman was executed by
-Baily some few years before our artist’s death.</p>
-
-<div  class='figcenter id001'>
-<img src='images/i_033.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' />
-<div class='ic001'>
-<p>[“Feed the hungry,” from a bas-relief of Flaxman.]</p>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<div  class='figcenter id002'>
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_34'>34</span>
-<img src='images/i_034.jpg' alt='COPERNICUS' class='ig001' />
-</div>
-
-<div class='chapter'>
-  <h2 class='c006'>COPERNICUS</h2>
-</div>
-
-<p class='c011'>The illustrious discoverer of the true planetary motions, whose features
-are represented on the accompanying plate, lived during the latter part of
-the fifteenth century, and the first half of the following one. Notwithstanding
-the success and celebrity of the theory which still bears his
-name, the materials are very scanty for personal details regarding his
-life and character. This ignorance is not the result of recent neglect.
-A century had scarcely elapsed from the time of his death, when Gassendi,
-who, at the request of the poet Chapelain, undertook to compile
-an account of him, was forced to preface it by a similar declaration.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Whilst Europe rang from one end to the other with the fierce dispute
-to which the new views of the relation and motions of the heavenly
-bodies gave rise, the character, the situation and manner of life, almost
-the country, of the great author of the controversy, remained unknown
-to the greater number of his admirers and opponents. Even the name
-of the discoverer of the Copernican system now appears strange, except
-in the Latinised form of Copernicus, in which alone it occurs in his
-own writings and in those of his commentators.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Nicolas Cöpernik<a id='r1' /><a href='#f1' class='c012'><sup>[1]</sup></a>, to use his genuine appellation, was a native of
-Thorn, a city of Polish Prussia, situated on the river Weichsel or
-Vistula. He was born in the year 1473. Little is known of his
-parents, except that his father, whose name also was Nicolas, was a
-surgeon, and, as it is believed, of German extraction. The elder
-Cöpernik was undoubtedly a stranger at Thorn, where he was
-naturalized in 1462: he married Barbara, of the noble Polish family
-of Watzelrode. Luke, one of her brothers, attained the high dignity
-of Bishop of Ermeland in the year 1489, and the prospects of advancement
-which this connection held out to young Cöpernik, probably
-induced his father to destine him to the ecclesiastical profession.
-He acquired at home the first elements of a liberal education, and
-afterwards graduated at Cracow, where he remained till he received
-the diploma of Doctor in Arts and Medicine from that university. He
-is said to have made considerable proficiency in the latter branch of
-study; and possessed, even in more advanced life, so high a reputation
-for skill and knowledge, as to produce an erroneous belief that
-he had once followed medicine.</p>
-
-<div class='footnote' id='f1'>
-<p class='c000'><span class='label'><a href='#r1'>1</a>.&nbsp;&nbsp;</span>The authority for this manner of spelling the name is <span lang="de" xml:lang="de">Hartknoch, Alt und Neues
-Preussen</span>. The inscription, Nicolao Copernico, which appears on the plate, is a literal copy
-of the inscription on the original picture.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div  class='figcenter id001'>
-<img src='images/i_034fp.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' />
-<div class='ic001'>
-<p><em>Engraved by E. Scriven.</em><br /><br />NICOLAO COPERNICO.<br /><br /><em>From a Picture in the possession of the Royal Society, presented by D<sup>r</sup>. Wolf, of Dantzic, June 6, 1770.</em><br /><br />Under the Superintendance of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge.<br /><br /><em>London. Published by Charles Knight, Pall Mall East.</em></p>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_35'>35</span>He also exhibited at an early age a very decided taste for mathematical
-studies, especially for astronomy; and attended the lectures, both
-public and private, of Albert Brudzewski, then mathematical professor
-at Cracow. Under his tuition, Copernicus, as we shall hereafter call
-him, became acquainted with the works of the astronomer, John
-Müller, (now more commonly known by his assumed appellation of
-Regiomontanus,) and the reputation of this celebrated man is said to
-have exercised a marked influence in deciding the bent of his future
-studies. Müller died at Rome a few years after the birth of Copernicus,
-and when the latter had reached an age capable of appreciating
-excellence and nourishing emulation, he found Müller’s works disseminated
-through every civilized country of Europe, his genius and
-acquirements the subject of universal admiration, and his premature
-death still regretted as a public calamity. The feelings to which the
-contemplation of Müller’s success gave rise, were still more excited
-by a journey into Italy, which Copernicus undertook about the year
-1495. One of his brothers and his maternal uncle were already
-settled in Rome, which was therefore the point to which his steps
-eventually tended. He quitted home in his twenty-third year; when
-his diligence in cultivating the practical part of astronomy had already
-procured for him some reputation as a skilful observer. It seems to
-have been in contemplation of this journey that he began to study
-painting, in which he afterwards became a tolerable proficient.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Bologna was the first place at which he made any stay, being
-drawn thither by the reputation of the astronomical professor, Dominic
-Maria Novarra. Copernicus was not more delighted with this able
-instructor than Novarra with his intelligent pupil. He soon became
-an assistant and companion of Novarra in his observations,
-and in this capacity acquired considerable distinction, so that on his
-departure from Bologna and arrival at Rome, he found that his reputation
-had preceded him. He was appointed to a professorship in that
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_36'>36</span>city, where he continued to teach mathematics for some years with
-considerable success.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>It does not appear at what time Copernicus entered into holy orders:
-probably it may have been during his residence at Rome; for on his
-return home he was named to the superintendence of the principal
-church in his native city Thorn. Not long afterwards his uncle Luke,
-who, in 1489, succeeded Nicolas von Thungen in the bishopric of
-Ermeland, enrolled him as one of the canons of his chapter. The
-cathedral church of the diocese of Ermeland is situated at Frauenburg,
-a small town built near one of the mouths of the Vistula,
-on the shore of the lake called Frische Haff, separated only by a
-narrow strip of land from the Gulf of Dantzig. In this situation,
-rendered unfavourable to astronomical observations by the frequent
-marshy exhalations rising from the river and lake, Copernicus took up
-his future abode, and made it the principal place of his residence
-during the remainder of his life. Here those astronomical speculations
-were renewed and perfected, the results of which have for ever consigned
-to oblivion the subtle contrivances invented by his predecessors
-to account for the anomalies of their own complicated theories.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>But we should form a very erroneous opinion of the life and character
-of Copernicus, if we considered him, as it is probable that by most
-he is considered, the quiet inhabitant of a cloister, immersed solely in
-speculative inquiries. His disposition did not unfit him for taking an
-active share in the stirring events which were occurring around him,
-and it was not left entirely to his choice whether he would remain a
-mere spectator of them.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>The chapter of Ermeland, at the time when he became a member of
-it, was the centre of a violent political struggle, in the decision of which
-Copernicus himself was called on to act a considerable part. In the
-latter half of the fifteenth century, a bitter war was carried on
-between the King of Poland and a military religious fraternity, called
-the Teutonic or German Knights of St. Mary of Jerusalem, who were
-incorporated towards the end of the twelfth century. Having been
-called into Prussia, they established themselves permanently in the
-country, built Thorn and several other cities, and gradually acquired
-a considerable share of independent power. On the death of Paul von
-Segendorf, bishop of Ermeland, Casimir, king of Poland, in pursuance
-of a design which he was then prosecuting, to get into his own hands
-the nomination to all the bishoprics in his dominions, appointed his
-secretary, Stanislas Opporowski, to the vacant see. The chapter of
-Ermeland proceeded notwithstanding to a separate nomination, and
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_37'>37</span>elected Nicolas von Thungen. Opporowski, backed by Casimir,
-entered Ermeland at the head of a powerful army. From this period
-the new Bishop of Ermeland necessarily made common cause with
-the German Knights; they renounced their allegiance to the crown
-of Poland, and threw themselves on the protection of Matthias
-king of Hungary. At length, Casimir finding himself unable to
-master the confederacy, separated Nicolas von Thungen from it, by
-agreeing to recognise him as Prince-Bishop of Ermeland, on the usual
-condition of homage. Nicolas thus became confirmed in his dignity,
-but his unhappy subjects did not fare better on that account, the
-country being now exposed to the fury of the German Knights, as it
-had suffered before from the violence of the Polish soldiery. These
-disturbances were continued during the life of Luke Watzelrode,
-and the city of Frauenburg, as well as its neighbour Braunsburg,
-frequently became the theatre of warlike operations.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>The management of the see was often committed to the care of
-Copernicus during the absence of his uncle, who on political grounds
-resided for the most part at the Court; and his activity in maintaining
-the rights of the chapter rendered him especially obnoxious to the
-Teutonic Order. In one of the short intervals of tranquillity, they took
-occasion to cite him before the meeting of the States at Posen, on
-account of some of his reports to his uncle concerning their encroachments.
-Gassendi, who mentions this circumstance, merely adds that
-at length his own and his uncle’s merit secured the latter in the
-possession of his dignity. In 1512 Watzelrode died, and Copernicus
-was chosen as administrator of the see until the appointment of the
-new bishop, Fabian von Losingen. In 1518 the knights under their
-grand master, Albert of Brandenburg, took possession of Frauenburg
-and burnt it to the ground.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>During the following year hostilities continued in the immediate
-neighbourhood of Frauenburg, but in the course of that summer, negotiations
-for peace between the Teutonic Order and the King of Poland
-were begun, through the mediation of the bishop. At last a truce was
-agreed upon for four years, during which Fabian von Losingen died,
-and Copernicus was again chosen administrator of the bishopric. In
-1525 peace was concluded with the Teutonic Knights, Albert having
-consented to receive Prussia as a temporal fief from the King of Poland.
-It was probably on this occasion that Copernicus was selected to
-represent the chapter of Ermeland at the Diet at Graudenz, where
-the terms of peace were finally settled; and by his firmness the chapter
-recovered great part of the possessions which had been endangered
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_38'>38</span>during the war. This service to his chapter was followed by another of
-more widely extended importance. During the struggle, which had
-continued with little interruption for more than half a century, the
-currency had become greatly debased and depreciated; and one of
-the most important subjects of deliberation at the meeting at Graudenz
-related to the best method of restoring it. There was a great difference
-of opinion whether the intended new coinage should be struck
-according to the old value of the currency, or according to that to which
-it had fallen in consequence of its adulteration. To assist in the settlement
-of this important question, Copernicus drew up a table of the
-relative value of the coins, then in circulation throughout the country.
-He presented this to the States, accompanied by a memoir on the same
-subject, an extract from which may be seen in Hartknoch’s History of
-Prussia. Throughout the troublesome period of which we have just
-given an outline, Copernicus seems to have displayed much political
-courage and talent. When tranquillity was at length restored, he
-resumed the astronomical studies which had been thus interrupted by
-more active duties.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>There appears to be little doubt that the philosopher began to meditate
-on the ideas which led him to the true knowledge of the constitution
-of the solar system, at least as early as 1507. Every one, who has
-heard the name of Copernicus mentioned, is aware that before him the
-general belief was, that the earth occupies the centre of the universe;
-that the changes of day and night are produced by the rapid revolution
-of the heavens, such as our senses erroneously lead us to believe, until
-more accurate and complicated observation teaches us the contrary;
-that the change of seasons and apparent motions of the planetary bodies
-are caused by the revolution of the sun and planets from west to east
-round the earth, in orbits of various complexity, subject to the common
-daily motion of all from east to west.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Instead of the daily motion of the heavens from east to west,
-Copernicus substituted the revolution of the earth itself from west to
-east. He explained the other phenomena of the planetary motions by
-supposing the sun to be fixed, and the earth and other planets to
-revolve about him; not, however, in simple circular orbits, according
-to the popular view of the Copernican theory. It was absolutely
-necessary to retain much of the old machinery of deferent and epicycle
-so long as the prejudice existed, from which Copernicus himself was
-not free, that nothing but circular motion is to be found in the heavens.
-Another step was made by the following generation, and astronomers
-were taught by Kepler to believe that the circular motion which
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_39'>39</span>they were so anxious to preserve in their theories, has no real existence
-in the planetary orbits. The advantage of the new system above the
-old, was, that by not denying to the earth the motion which it really
-possesses, the author had to invent epicycles to explain only the real
-irregularities of the motions of the other planets, and not those apparent
-ones which arise out of the motion of the orb from which they
-are viewed.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>It is commonly said that besides the two motions already mentioned,
-Copernicus attributed to the earth a third annual revolution on its axis.
-This was necessary from the idea which he had formed of its motion
-in its orbit. He conceived the earth to be carried round as if resting
-on a lever centred in the sun, which would cause the poles of the
-daily motion to point successively to different parts of the heavens;
-the third motion was added to restore these poles to their true position
-in every part of the orbit. It was afterwards seen that these two
-annual motions might be considered as resulting from one of a different
-kind, and in this simpler form they are now always considered
-by astronomical writers.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>It would be an interesting inquiry to follow Copernicus through the
-train of reasoning which induced him to venture upon these changes;
-but it is impossible to attempt this, or to explain his system, within
-the limits to which this sketch is necessarily confined. In one point
-of view, his peculiar merit appears not to be in general sufficiently
-insisted upon. If he had merely suggested the principles of his new
-theory, he would doubtless have acquired, as now, the glory of lighting
-upon the true order of the solar system, and of founding thereupon
-a new school of astronomy: but his peculiar and characteristic
-merit, that by which he really earned his reputation, and which entitles
-him to take rank by the side of Newton in the history of astronomy,
-was the result of his conviction, that if his principles were indeed
-true, they would be verified by the examination of details, and the
-persevering resolution with which he thereupon set himself to rebuild
-an astronomical theory from the foundation. This was the reason, at
-least as much as the fear of incurring censure, why he delayed the
-publication of his system for thirty-six years. During the greater
-part of that time he was employed in collecting, by careful observation,
-the materials of which it is constructed: the opinions on which it is
-based, comprising the whole of what was afterwards declared to be
-heretical and impious, were widely known to be entertained by him
-long before the work itself appeared. He delayed to announce them
-formally, until he was able at the same time to show that they were
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_40'>40</span>not random guesses, taken up from a mere affectation of novelty; but
-that with their assistance he had compiled tables of the planetary
-motions, which were immediately acknowledged even by those whose
-minds revolted most against the means by which they were obtained,
-to be far more correct than any which till then had appeared.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Copernicus’s book seems to have been nearly completed in 1536,
-which is the date of a letter addressed to him by Cardinal Schonberg,
-prefixed to the work. So far at this time was the church of Rome
-from having decided on the line of stubborn opposition to the new
-opinions, which, in the following century, so much to her own disgrace,
-she adopted, that Copernicus was chiefly moved to complete and
-publish his work by the solicitations of this cardinal, and of Tindemann
-Giese, the bishop of Culm; and the book itself was dedicated to Pope
-Paul III. It is entitled, ‘<span lang="la" xml:lang="la">De Revolutionibus Orbium Cœlestium,
-Libri VI.</span>’ The dedication is written in a very different strain from
-that to which his followers were soon afterwards restricted. He there
-boldly avows his expectation that his theory would be attacked as contrary
-to the Scriptures, and his contempt of such ill-considered judgment.
-A more timid preface, in which the new theory is spoken of
-as a mere mathematical hypothesis, was added to this dedication by
-Osiander, to whom Copernicus had entrusted the care of preparing
-the book for publication. It has been said that the author was far
-from approving this, and if his death had not followed closely upon its
-publication, it is not improbable that he would have suppressed it.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>The revolution of opinion that has followed the publication of
-this memorable work was not immediately perceptible: even to the
-end of the sixteenth century, as Montucla observes, the number of converts
-to its doctrines might be easily reckoned. The majority contented
-themselves with a disdainful sneer at the folly of introducing
-such ridiculous notions among the grave doctrines of astronomy: but
-although impertinent, it was as yet considered harmless; and all those
-who were at the pains to examine the reasoning on which the new
-theory was grounded, were allowed, unmolested, to own themselves
-convinced by it. It was not until the spirit of philosophical inquiry
-was fully awakened, that the church of Rome became sensible how
-much danger lurked in the new doctrines; and when the struggle
-began in earnest between the partisans of truth and falsehood, the
-censures pronounced upon the advocates of the earth’s motion, were in
-fact aimed through them at all who presumed, even in natural phenomena,
-to see with other eyes than those of their spiritual advisers.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Copernicus did not live to witness any part of the effect produced
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_41'>41</span>by his book. A sudden attack of dysentery and paralysis put an end
-to his life, within a few hours after the first printed copy had been
-shown to him, in his seventy-second year, on the 24th May, 1543,
-one century before the birth of Newton. The house at Thorn,
-in which he is said to have been born, is still shown, as well as
-that at Frauenburg, in which he passed the greater part of his life.
-An hydraulic machine, of which only the remains now exist, for
-supplying the houses of the canons with water, and another of similar
-construction at Graudenz, which is still in use, are said to have been
-constructed by him. An account of them may be seen in Nanke’s
-Travels. From the little that is known of Copernicus’s private
-character, his morals appear to have been unexceptionable; his temper
-good, his disposition kind, but inclining to seriousness. He was so
-highly esteemed in his own neighbourhood, that the attempt of a
-dramatic author to satirise him, by introducing his doctrine of the
-earth’s motion upon the stage at Elbing, was received by the audience
-with the greatest indignation. He was buried in the cemetery of the
-chapter of Ermeland, and only a plain marble slab, inscribed with
-his name, marked the place of his interment. Until this was rediscovered
-in the latter half of the last century, an opinion prevailed
-that his remains had been transported to Thorn, and buried in the
-church of St. John, where the portrait of him is preserved, from
-which most of the prints in circulation have been taken. It is engraved
-in Hartknoch’s Prussia, and, according to that author, copies
-of it were frequently made. The portrait prefixed to Gassendi’s life,
-is a copy of that given in Boissard, with the addition of a furred robe.
-There is a good engraving of the same likeness, by Falck, a Polish
-artist, who lived about a century later than Copernicus. In the year
-1584, Tycho Brahe commissioned Elia Olai to visit Frauenburg, for
-the purpose of more accurately determining the latitude of Copernicus’s
-observatory, and, on that occasion, received as a present from
-the chapter the Ptolemaic scales, made by the astronomer himself,
-which he used in his observatory, and also a portrait of him said to
-have been painted by his own hand. Tycho placed these memorials,
-with great honour, in his own observatory, but it is not known
-what became of them after his death, and the dispersion of his instruments.
-The portrait, from which the engraving prefixed to this
-account is taken, belongs to the Royal Society, to which it was sent by
-Dr. Wolff, from Dantzig, in 1776. It was copied by Lormann, a
-Prussian artist, from one which had been long preserved and recognised
-as an original in the collection of the Dukes of Saxe Gotha. In
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_42'>42</span>1735, Prince Grabowski, bishop of Ermeland, exchanged for it the
-portrait of an ancestor of the reigning duke, who had been formerly
-bishop of that see. Grabowski left it to his chamberlain, M. Hussarzewski,
-in whose possession it remained when the copy was made.
-Dr. Wolff, in the letter accompanying his present, (inserted in the
-Phil. Trans. vol. lxvii.) declares that this original had been compared
-with the Thorn portrait, and that the resemblance of the two is perfect.
-It does not appear very striking in the engravings. A colossal
-statue of Copernicus, executed by Thorwaldsen, was erected at Warsaw
-in 1830, with all the demonstrations of honour due to the memory
-of a man who holds so distinguished a place in the history of human
-discoveries.</p>
-
-<div  class='figcenter id002'>
-<img src='images/i_042.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' />
-</div>
-
-<div  class='figcenter id001'>
-<img src='images/i_043fp.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' />
-<div class='ic001'>
-<p><em>Engraved by T. Woolnoth.</em><br /><br />JOHN MILTON.<br /><br /><em>From a Miniature of the same size by Faithorne. <span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Anno 1667</span>, in the possession of William Falconer Esq.</em><br /><br />Under the Superintendance of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge.<br /><br /><em>London. Published by Charles Knight, Pall Mall East.</em></p>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<div  class='figcenter id002'>
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_43'>43</span>
-<img src='images/i_043.jpg' alt='MILTON.' class='ig001' />
-</div>
-
-<div class='chapter'>
-  <h2 class='c006'>MILTON</h2>
-</div>
-
-<p class='c011'>That sanctity which settles on the memory of a great man, ought
-upon a double motive to be vigilantly sustained by his countrymen;
-first, out of gratitude to him, as one column of the national grandeur;
-secondly, with a practical purpose of transmitting unimpaired to posterity
-the benefit of ennobling models. High standards of excellence
-are among the happiest distinctions by which the modern ages of the
-world have an advantage over earlier, and we are all interested by duty
-as well as policy in preserving them inviolate. To the benefit of this
-principle, none amongst the great men of England is better entitled
-than Milton, whether as respects his transcendent merit, or the harshness
-with which his memory has been treated.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>John Milton was born in London on the 9th day of December, 1608.
-His father, in early life, had suffered for conscience’ sake, having been
-disinherited upon his abjuring the popish faith. He pursued the
-laborious profession of a scrivener, and having realised an ample
-fortune, retired into the country to enjoy it. Educated at Oxford, he
-gave his son the best education that the age afforded. At first, young
-Milton had the benefit of a private tutor: from him he was removed to
-St. Paul’s School; next he proceeded to Christ’s College, Cambridge,
-and finally, after several years’ preparation by extensive reading, he
-pursued a course of continental travel. It is to be observed, that his
-tutor, Thomas Young, was a Puritan, and there is reason to believe
-that Puritan politics prevailed among the fellows of his college. This
-must not be forgotten in speculating on Milton’s public life, and his
-inexorable hostility to the established government in church and state;
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_44'>44</span>for it will thus appear probable, that he was at no time withdrawn
-from the influence of Puritan connections.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>In 1632, having taken the degree of M.A., Milton finally quitted
-the University, leaving behind him a very brilliant reputation, and a
-general good will in his own college. His father had now retired
-from London, and lived upon his own estate at Horton, in Buckinghamshire.
-In this rural solitude, Milton passed the next five years,
-resorting to London only at rare intervals, for the purchase of books
-or music. His time was chiefly occupied with the study of Greek and
-Roman, and, no doubt, also of Italian literature. But that he was not
-negligent of composition, and that he applied himself with great zeal
-to the culture of his native literature, we have a splendid record in his
-‘Comus,’ which, upon the strongest presumptions, is ascribed to this
-period of his life. In the same neighbourhood, and within the same
-five years, it is believed that he produced also the Arcades, and the
-Lycidas, together with L’Allegro, and Il Penseroso.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>In 1637 Milton’s mother died, and in the following year he commenced
-his travels. The state of Europe confined his choice of ground
-to France and Italy. The former excited in him but little interest.
-After a short stay at Paris he pursued the direct route to Nice, where
-he embarked for Genoa, and thence proceeded to Pisa, Florence,
-Rome, and Naples. He originally meant to extend his tour to Sicily
-and Greece; but the news of the first Scotch war, having now
-reached him, agitated his mind with too much patriotic sympathy to
-allow of his embarking on a scheme of such uncertain duration. Yet
-his homeward movements were not remarkable for expedition. He
-had already spent two months in Florence, and as many in Rome,
-yet he devoted the same space of time to each of them on his return.
-From Florence he proceeded to Lucca, and thence, by Bologna and
-Ferrara, to Venice; where he remained one month, and then pursued
-his homeward route through Verona, Milan, and Geneva.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Sir Henry Wotton had recommended, as the rule of his conduct, a
-celebrated Italian proverb, inculcating the policy of reserve and dissimulation.
-From a practised diplomatist, this advice was characteristic;
-but it did not suit the frankness of Milton’s manners, nor the nobleness
-of his mind. He has himself stated to us his own rule of conduct, which
-was to move no questions of controversy, yet not to evade them when
-pressed upon him by others. Upon this principle he acted, not without
-some offence to his associates, nor wholly without danger to himself.
-But the offence, doubtless, was blended with respect; the danger was
-passed; and he returned home with all his purposes fulfilled. He had
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_45'>45</span>conversed with Galileo; he had seen whatever was most interesting
-in the monuments of Roman grandeur, or the triumphs of Italian art;
-and he could report with truth, that in spite of his religion, every
-where undissembled, he had been honoured by the attentions of the
-great, and by the compliments of the learned.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>After fifteen months of absence, Milton found himself again in
-London at a crisis of unusual interest. The king was on the eve of
-his second expedition against the Scotch; and we may suppose Milton
-to have been watching the course of events with profound anxiety,
-not without some anticipation of the patriotic labour which awaited
-him. Meantime he occupied himself with the education of his sister’s
-two sons, and soon after, by way of obtaining an honourable maintenance,
-increased the number of his pupils.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Dr. Johnson, himself at one period of his life a schoolmaster, on
-this occasion indulges in a sneer which is too injurious to be neglected.
-“Let not our veneration for Milton,” says he, “forbid us to look with
-some degree of merriment on great promises and small performance:
-on the man who hastens home because his countrymen are contending
-for their liberty; and when he reaches the scene of action, vapours
-away his patriotism in a private boarding-school.” It is not true that
-Milton had made “great promises,” or any promises at all. But if he
-had made the greatest, his exertions for the next sixteen years nobly
-redeemed them. In what way did Dr. Johnson expect that his patriotism
-should be expressed? As a soldier? Milton has himself urged
-his bodily weakness and intellectual strength, as reasons for following
-a line of duty for which he was better fitted. Was he influenced in
-his choice by fear of military dangers or hardships? Far from it:
-“for I did not,” he says, “shun those evils, without engaging to render
-to my fellow-citizens services much more useful, and attended with no
-less of danger.” What services were those? We shall state them in
-his own words, anticipated from an after period. “When I observed
-that there are in all three modes of liberty—first, ecclesiastical liberty;
-secondly, civil liberty; thirdly, domestic: having myself already
-treated of the first, and noticing that the magistrate was taking steps
-in behalf of the second, I concluded that the third, that is to say,
-domestic, or household liberty, remained to me as my peculiar province.
-And whereas this again is capable of a threefold division, accordingly
-as it regards the interests of conjugal life in the first place, or those
-of education in the second, or finally the freedom of speech, and the
-right of giving full publication to sound opinions,—I took it upon
-myself to defend all three, the first, by my Doctrine and Discipline of
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_46'>46</span>Divorce, the second, by my Tractate upon Education, the third, by
-my Areopagitica.”</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>In 1641 he conducted his defence of ecclesiastical liberty, in a
-series of attacks upon episcopacy. These are written in a bitter spirit
-of abusive hostility, for which we seek an insufficient apology in his
-exclusive converse with a party which held bishops in abhorrence, and
-in the low personal respectability of a large portion of the episcopal
-bench.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>At Whitsuntide, in the year 1645, having reached his 35th year,
-he married Mary Powel, a young lady of good extraction in the
-county of Oxford. One month after, he allowed his wife to visit
-her family. This permission, in itself somewhat singular, the lady
-abused; for when summoned back to her home, she refused to return.
-Upon this provocation, Milton set himself seriously to consider the
-extent of the obligations imposed by the nuptial vow; and soon came
-to the conclusion, that in point of conscience it was not less dissoluble
-for hopeless incompatibility of temper than for positive adultery, and
-that human laws, in as far as they opposed this principle, called for
-reformation. These views he laid before the public in his Doctrine
-and Discipline of Divorce. In treating this question, he had relied
-entirely upon the force of argument, not aware that he had the countenance
-of any great authorities; but finding soon afterwards that some
-of the early reformers, Bucer and P. Martyr, had taken the same
-view as himself, he drew up an account of their comments on this
-subject. Hence arose the second of his tracts on Divorce. Meantime,
-as it was certain that many would abide by what they supposed
-to be the positive language of Scripture, in opposition to all authority
-whatsoever, he thought it advisable to write a third tract on the proper
-interpretation of the chief passages in Scripture, which refer to this
-point. A fourth tract, by way of answer to the different writers who
-had opposed his opinions, terminated the series.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Meantime the lady, whose rash conduct had provoked her husband
-into these speculations, saw reason to repent of her indiscretion, and
-finding that Milton held her desertion to have cancelled all claims
-upon his justice, wisely resolved upon making her appeal to his
-generosity. This appeal was not made in vain: in a single interview
-at the house of a common friend, where she had contrived to surprise
-him, and suddenly to throw herself at his feet, he granted her a full
-forgiveness: and so little did he allow himself to remember her misconduct,
-or that of her family, in having countenanced her desertion,
-that soon afterwards, when they were involved in the general ruin of
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_47'>47</span>the royal cause, he received the whole of them into his house, and
-exerted his political influence very freely in their behalf. Fully to
-appreciate this behaviour, we must recollect that Milton was not rich,
-and that no part of his wife’s marriage portion (£1000) was ever
-paid to him.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>His thoughts now settled upon the subject of education, which it
-must not be forgotten that he connected systematically with domestic
-liberty. In 1644 he published his essay on this great theme, in the
-form of a letter to his friend Hartlib, himself a person of no slight consideration.
-In the same year he wrote his ‘Areopagitica, a speech for
-the liberty of unlicensed printing.’ This we are to consider in the light
-of an oral pleading, or regular oration, for he tells us expressly [Def. 2.]
-that he wrote it “<span lang="la" xml:lang="la">ad justæ orationis modum</span>.” It is the finest
-specimen extant of generous scorn. And very remarkable it is, that
-Milton, who broke the ground on this great theme, has exhausted the
-arguments which bear upon it. He opened the subject: he closed it.
-And were there no other monument of his patriotism and his genius,
-for this alone he would deserve to be held in perpetual veneration.
-In the following year, 1645, was published the first collection of his
-early poems: with his sanction, undoubtedly, but probably not upon
-his suggestion. The times were too full of anxiety to allow of much
-encouragement to polite literature: at no period were there fewer
-readers of poetry. And for himself in particular, with the exception
-of a few sonnets, it is probable that he composed as little as others
-read, for the next ten years: so great were his political exertions.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Early in 1649 the king was put to death. For a full view of the
-state of parties which led to this memorable event, we must refer the
-reader to the history of the times. That act was done by the
-Independent party, to which Milton belonged, and was precipitated
-by the intrigues of the Presbyterians, who were making common
-cause with the king, to ensure the overthrow of the Independents.
-The lamentations and outcries of the Presbyterians were long and
-loud. Under colour of a generous sympathy with the unhappy prince,
-they mourned for their own political extinction, and the triumph of their
-enemies. This Milton well knew, and to expose the selfishness of
-their clamours, as well as to disarm their appeals to the popular feeling,
-he now published his ‘Tenure of Kings and Magistrates.’ In
-the first part of this, he addresses himself to the general question of
-tyrannicide, justifying it, first, by arguments of general reason, and
-secondly, by the authority of the reformers. But in the latter part
-he argues the case personally, contending that the Presbyterians at least
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_48'>48</span>were not entitled to condemn the king’s death, who, in levying war, and
-doing battle against the king’s person, had done so much that tended
-to no other result. “If then,” is his argument, “in these proceedings
-against their king, they may not finish, by the usual course of
-justice, what they have begun, they could not lawfully begin at all.”
-The argument seems inconclusive, even as addressed <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">ad hominem</span></i>:
-the struggle bore the character of a war between independent parties,
-rather than a judicial inquiry, and in war the life of a prisoner becomes
-sacred.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>At this time the Council of State had resolved no longer to employ
-the language of a rival people in their international concerns, but to
-use the Latin tongue as a neutral and indifferent instrument. The
-office of Latin Secretary, therefore, was created, and bestowed upon
-Milton. His hours from henceforth must have been pretty well occupied
-by official labours. Yet at this time he undertook a service to the
-state, more invidious, and perhaps more perilous, than any in which his
-politics ever involved him. On the very day of the king’s execution,
-and even below the scaffold, had been sold the earliest copies of a
-work, admirably fitted to shake the new government, and for the sensation
-which it produced at the time, and the lasting controversy which
-it has engendered, one of the most remarkable known in literary history.
-This was the ‘Eikon Basilike, or Royal Image,’ professing to be a series
-of meditations drawn up by the late king, on the leading events from
-the very beginning of the national troubles. Appearing at this critical
-moment, and co-operating with the strong reaction of the public mind,
-already effected in the king’s favour by his violent death, this book
-produced an impression absolutely unparalleled in any age. Fifty
-thousand copies, it is asserted, were sold within one year; and a
-posthumous power was thus given to the king’s name by one little
-book, which exceeded, in alarm to his enemies, all that his armies
-could accomplish in his lifetime. No remedy could meet the evil in
-degree. As the only one that seemed fitted to it in kind, Milton drew
-up a running commentary upon each separate head of the original:
-and as that had been entitled the king’s image, he gave to his own the
-title of ‘Eikonoclastes, or Image-breaker,’ “the famous surname of
-many Greek emperors, who broke all superstitious images in pieces.”</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>This work was drawn up with the usual polemic ability of Milton;
-but by its very plan and purpose, it threw him upon difficulties which
-no ability could meet. It had that inevitable disadvantage which belongs
-to all ministerial and secondary works: the order and choice of
-topics being all determined by the Eikon, Milton, for the first time,
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_49'>49</span>wore an air of constraint and servility, following a leader and obeying
-his motions, as an engraver is controlled by the designer, or a translator
-by his original. It is plain, from the pains he took to exonerate
-himself from such a reproach, that he felt his task to be an invidious
-one. The majesty of grief, expressing itself with Christian meekness,
-and appealing, as it were from the grave, to the consciences of men,
-could not be violated without a recoil of angry feeling, ruinous to the
-effect of any logic, or rhetoric the most persuasive. The affliction of
-a great prince, his solitude, his rigorous imprisonment, his constancy
-to some purposes which were not selfish, his dignity of demeanour in
-the midst of his heavy trials, and his truly Christian fortitude in his
-final sufferings—these formed a rhetoric which made its way to all
-hearts. Against such influences the eloquence of Greece would have
-been vain. The nation was spell-bound; and a majority of its population
-neither could or would be disenchanted.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Milton was ere long called to plead the same great cause of liberty
-upon an ampler stage, and before a more equitable audience; to plead
-not on behalf of his party against the Presbyterians and Royalists, but
-on behalf of his country against the insults of a hired Frenchman,
-and at the bar of the whole Christian world. Charles II. had
-resolved to state his father’s case to all Europe. This was natural,
-for very few people on the continent knew what cause had brought his
-father to the block, or why he himself was a vagrant exile from his
-throne. For his advocate he selected Claudius Salmasius, and that
-was most injudicious. This man, eminent among the scholars of the
-day, had some brilliant accomplishments, which were useless in such a
-service, while in those which were really indispensable, he was singularly
-deficient. He was ignorant of the world, wanting in temper
-and self-command, conspicuously unfurnished with eloquence, or the
-accomplishments of a good writer, and not so much as master of a
-pure Latin style. Even as a scholar, he was very unequal; he had
-committed more important blunders than any man of his age, and
-being generally hated, had been more frequently exposed than others
-to the harsh chastisements of men inferior to himself in learning. Yet
-the most remarkable deficiency of all which Salmasius betrayed, was in
-his entire ignorance, whether historical or constitutional, of every thing
-which belonged to the case.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Having such an antagonist, inferior to him in all possible qualifications,
-whether of nature, of art, of situation, it may be supposed
-that Milton’s triumph was absolute. He was now thoroughly
-indemnified for the poor success of his ‘Eikonoclastes.’ In that instance
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_50'>50</span>he had the mortification of knowing that all England read and wept
-over the king’s book, whilst his own reply was scarcely heard of. But
-here the tables were turned: the very friends of Salmasius complained,
-that while his defence was rarely inquired after, the answer to it,
-‘Defensio pro Populo Anglicano,’ was the subject of conversation from
-one end of Europe to the other. It was burnt publicly at Paris and
-Toulouse: and by way of special annoyance to Salmasius, who lived
-in Holland, was translated into Dutch.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Salmasius died in 1653, before he could accomplish an answer that
-satisfied himself: and the fragment which he left behind him was not
-published, until it was no longer safe for Milton to rejoin. Meantime
-others pressed forward against Milton in the same controversy, of whom
-some were neglected, one was resigned to the pen of his nephew,
-Philips, and one answered diffusely by himself. This was Du Moulin,
-or, as Milton persisted in believing, Morus, a reformed minister then
-resident in Holland, and at one time a friend of Salmasius. For two
-years after the publication of this man’s book (<span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Regii Sanguinis Clamor</span>)
-Milton received multiplied assurances from Holland that Morus was its
-true author. This was not wonderful. Morus had corrected the press,
-had adopted the principles and passions of the book, and perhaps at first
-had not been displeased to find himself reputed the author. In reply,
-Milton published his ‘Defensio Secunda pro Populo Anglicano,’ seasoned
-in every page with some stinging allusions to Morus. All the circumstances
-of his early life are recalled, and some were such as the grave
-divine would willingly have concealed from the public eye. He endeavoured
-to avert too late the storm of wit and satire about to burst on
-him, by denying the work, and even revealing the author’s real name:
-but Milton resolutely refused to make the slightest alteration. The true
-reason of this probably was that the work was written so exclusively
-against Morus, full of personal scandal, and puns and gibes upon his
-name, which in Greek signifies foolish, that it would have been useless
-as an answer to any other person. In Milton’s conduct on this occasion,
-there is a want both of charity and candour. Personally, however,
-Morus had little ground for complaint: he had bearded the lion
-by submitting to be reputed the author of a work not his own. Morus
-replied, and Milton closed the controversy by a defence of himself, in
-1655.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>He had, indeed, about this time some domestic afflictions, which reminded
-him of the frail tenure on which all human blessings were held,
-and the necessity that he should now begin to concentrate his mind
-upon the great works which he meditated. In 1651 his first wife
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_51'>51</span>died, after she had given him three daughters. In that year he had
-already lost the use of one eye, and was warned by the physicians that
-if he persisted in his task of replying to Salmasius, he would probably
-lose the other. The warning was soon accomplished, according to the
-common account, in 1654; but upon collating his letter to Philaras the
-Athenian, with his own pathetic statement in the Defensio Secunda,
-we are disposed to date it from 1652. In 1655 he resigned his office
-of secretary, in which he had latterly been obliged to use an assistant.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Some time before this period, he had married his second wife,
-Catherine Woodcock, to whom it is supposed that he was very tenderly
-attached. In 1657 she died in child-birth, together with her child, an
-event which he has recorded in a very beautiful sonnet. This loss,
-added to his blindness, must have made his home, for some years, desolate
-and comfortless. Distress, indeed, was now gathering rapidly upon
-him. The death of Cromwell in the following year, and the imbecile
-character of his eldest son, held out an invitation to the aspiring
-intriguers of the day, which they were not slow to improve. It soon
-became too evident to Milton’s discernment, that all things were hurrying
-forward to restoration of the ejected family. Sensible of the risk,
-therefore, and without much hope, but obeying the summons of his
-conscience, he wrote a short tract on the ready and easy way to
-establish a free commonwealth, concluding with these noble words,
-“Thus much I should perhaps have said, though I were sure I should
-have spoken only to trees and stones, and had none to cry to, but with
-the Prophet, Oh earth! earth! earth! to tell the very soil itself what
-her perverse inhabitants are deaf to. Nay, though what I have spoken
-should happen [which Thou suffer not, who didst create free, nor Thou
-next, who didst redeem us from being servants of men] to be the last
-words of our expiring liberty.” A slighter pamphlet on the same
-subject, ‘Brief Notes’ upon a sermon by one Dr. Griffiths, must be supposed
-to be written rather with a religious purpose of correcting a
-false application of sacred texts, than with any great expectation of
-benefiting his party. Dr. Johnson, with unseemly violence, says, that
-he kicked when he could strike no longer: more justly it might be
-said that he held up a solitary hand of protestation on behalf of that
-cause now in its expiring struggles, which he had maintained when
-prosperous; and that he continued to the last one uniform language,
-though he now believed resistance to be hopeless, and knew it to be
-full of peril.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>That peril was soon realised. In the spring of 1660, the Restoration
-was accomplished amidst the tumultuous rejoicings of the people.
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_52'>52</span>It was certain that the vengeance of government would lose no time
-in marking its victims; for some of them in anticipation had already
-fled. Milton wisely withdrew from the first fury of the persecution,
-which now descended on his party. He secreted himself in London,
-and when he returned into the public eye in the winter, found himself
-no farther punished, than by a general disqualification for the
-public service, and the disgrace of a public burning inflicted on his
-Eikonoclastes, and his Defensio pro Populo Anglicano.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Apparently it was not long after this time that he married his third
-wife, Elizabeth Minshul, a lady of good family in Cheshire. In what
-year he began the composition of his ‘Paradise Lost,’ is not certainly
-known: some have supposed in 1658. There is better ground for
-fixing the period of its close. During the plague of 1665 he retired
-to Chalfont, and at that time Elwood the quaker read the poem in a
-finished state. The general interruption of business in London occasioned
-by the plague, and prolonged by the great fire in 1666, explain
-why the publication was delayed for nearly two years. The contract
-with the publisher is dated April 26, 1667, and in the course of that
-year the Paradise Lost was published. Originally it was printed in
-ten books: in the second, and subsequent editions, the seventh and
-tenth books were each divided into two. Milton received only five
-pounds in the first instance on the publication of the book. His
-farther profits were regulated by the sale of the three first editions.
-Each was to consist of fifteen hundred copies, and on the second and
-third respectively reaching a sale of thirteen hundred, he was to
-receive a farther sum of five pounds for each; making a total of
-fifteen pounds. The receipt for the second sum of five pounds is dated
-April 26, 1669.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>In 1670 Milton published his History of Britain, from the fabulous
-period to the Norman conquest. And in the same year he published
-in one volume Paradise Regained and Samson Agonistes. The Paradise
-Regained, it has been currently asserted that Milton preferred
-to Paradise Lost. This is not true; but he may have been justly
-offended by the false principles on which some of his friends maintained
-a reasonable opinion. The Paradise Regained is inferior by
-the necessity of its subject and design. In the Paradise Lost Milton
-had a field properly adapted to a poet’s purposes: a few hints in
-Scripture were expanded. Nothing was altered, nothing absolutely
-added: but that, which was told in the Scriptures in sum, or in its
-last results, was developed into its whole succession of parts. Thus,
-for instance, “There was war in Heaven,” furnished the matter
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_53'>53</span>for a whole book. Now for the latter poem, which part of our
-Saviour’s life was it best to select as that in which Paradise was
-Regained? He might have taken the Crucifixion, and here he had a
-much wider field than in the Temptation; but then he was subject to
-this dilemma. If he modified, or in any way altered, the full details
-of the four Evangelists, he shocked the religious sense of all Christians;
-yet, the purposes of a poet would often require that he should so
-modify them. With a fine sense of this difficulty, he chose the narrow
-basis of the Temptation in the Wilderness, because there the whole
-had been wrapt up in Scripture in a few brief abstractions. Thus,
-“He showed him all the kingdoms of the earth,” is expanded, without
-offence to the nicest religious scruple, into that matchless succession
-of pictures, which bring before us the learned glories of Athens, Rome
-in her civil grandeur, and the barbaric splendour of Parthia. The
-actors being only two, the action of Paradise Regained is unavoidably
-limited. But in respect of composition, it is perhaps more elaborately
-finished than Paradise Lost.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>In 1672 he published in Latin, a new scheme of Logic, on the
-method of Ramus, in which Dr. Johnson suspects him to have meditated
-the very eccentric crime of rebellion against the universities. Be
-that as it may, this little book is in one view not without interest: all
-scholastic systems of logic confound logic and metaphysics; and some
-of Milton’s metaphysical doctrines, as the present Bishop of Winchester
-has noticed, have a reference to the doctrines brought forward in his
-posthumous Theology. The history of the last-named work is remarkable.
-That such a treatise had existed, was well known, but it
-had disappeared, and was supposed to be irrecoverably lost. But in
-the year 1823, a Latin manuscript was discovered in the State-Paper
-Office, under circumstances which left little doubt of its being the
-identical work which Milton was known to have composed; and this
-belief was corroborated by internal evidence. By the King’s command,
-it was edited by Mr. Sumner, the present Bishop of Winchester,
-and separately published in a translation. The title is ‘<span lang="la" xml:lang="la">De Doctrina
-Christiana, libri duo posthumi</span>’—A Treatise on Christian Doctrine,
-compiled from the Holy Scriptures alone. In elegance of style, and
-sublimity of occasional passages, it is decidedly inferior to other of his
-prose works. As a system of theology, probably no denomination of
-Christians would be inclined to bestow other than a very sparing
-praise upon it. Still it is well worth the notice of those students,
-who are qualified to weigh the opinions, and profit by the errors of
-such a writer, as being composed with Milton’s usual originality of
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_54'>54</span>thought and inquiry, and as being remarkable for the boldness with
-which he follows up his arguments to their legitimate conclusion,
-however startling those conclusions may be.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>What he published after the scheme of logic, is not important
-enough to merit a separate notice. His end was now approaching.
-In the summer of 1674 he was still cheerful, and in the possession
-of his intellectual faculties. But the vigour of his bodily constitution
-had been silently giving way, through a long course of years, to the
-ravages of gout. It was at length thoroughly undermined: and about
-the tenth of November, 1674, he died with tranquillity so profound,
-that his attendants were unable to determine the exact moment of his
-decease. He was buried, with unusual marks of honour, in the chancel
-of St. Giles’ at Cripplegate.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>The published lives of Milton are very numerous. Among the
-best and most copious are those prefixed to the editions of Milton’s
-works by Bishop Newton, Todd, and Symmons. An article of considerable
-length, founded upon the latter, will be found in Rees’s
-Cyclopædia. But the most remarkable is that written by Dr. Johnson
-in his ‘Lives of the British Poets;’ production grievously disfigured
-by prejudice, yet well deserving the student’s attentions for its intrinsic
-merits, as well as for the celebrity which it has attained.</p>
-
-<div  class='figcenter id001'>
-<img src='images/i_054.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' />
-</div>
-
-<div  class='figcenter id001'>
-<img src='images/i_055fp.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' />
-<div class='ic001'>
-<p><em>Engraved by C. E. Wagstaff.</em><br /><br />JAMES WATT.<br /><br /><em>From a Picture by Sir W. Beechey in the possession of J. Watt Esq. of Aston Hall.</em><br /><br />Under the Superintendance of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge.<br /><br /><em>London. Published by Charles Knight, Pall Mall East.</em></p>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<div  class='figcenter id002'>
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_55'>55</span>
-<img src='images/i_055.jpg' alt='WATT' class='ig001' />
-</div>
-
-<div class='chapter'>
-  <h2 class='c006'>WATT</h2>
-</div>
-
-<p class='c011'>Those who by cultivating the arts of peace have risen from obscurity
-to fame and wealth, seldom leave to the biographer such
-ample memorials of their private lives as he could wish to work
-upon. The details of a life spent in the laboratory or in the workshop
-rarely present much variety; or possess much interest, except when
-treated scientifically for the benefit of the scientific reader. Such
-is the case with James Watt: the history of his long and prosperous
-life is little more than the history of his scientific pursuits; and
-this must plead our excuse if it chance that the reader should here find
-less personal information about him than he may desire. Fortunately
-his character has been sketched before it was too late, by the masterly
-hand of one who knew him well. Most of the accounts of him already
-published are said, by those best qualified to judge, to be inaccurate.
-The same authority is pledged to the general correctness of the article
-Watt, in the supplement to the Encyclopædia Britannica, and from that
-article the facts of this short memoir are taken.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Both the grandfather and uncle of James Watt were men of some
-repute in the West of Scotland, as mathematical teachers and surveyors.
-His father was a merchant at Greenock, where Watt was born, June
-19, 1736, and where he received the rudiments of his education. Our
-knowledge of the first twenty years of his life may be comprised in a
-few short sentences. At an early age he manifested a partiality for
-the practical part of mechanics, which he retained through life, taking
-pleasure in the manual exercise of his early trade, even when hundreds
-of hands were ready to do his bidding. In his eighteenth year he went
-to London, to obtain instruction in the profession of a mathematical
-instrument-maker; but he remained there little more than a year,
-being compelled to return home by the precariousness of his health.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>In 1757, shortly after his return home, he was appointed instrument-maker
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_56'>56</span>to the University of Glasgow, and accommodated with premises
-within the precincts of that learned body. Robert Simpson,
-Adam Smith, and Dr. Black, were then some of the professors; and
-from communication with such men, Watt could not fail to derive the
-most valuable mental discipline. With Dr. Black, and with John
-Robison, then a student, afterwards eminent as a mathematician and
-natural philosopher, he formed a friendship which was continued
-through life. In 1763 he removed into the town of Glasgow, intending
-to practise as a civil engineer, and in the following year was
-married to his cousin Miss Miller.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>In the winter of 1763–4, his mind was directed to the earnest prosecution
-of those inventions which have made his name celebrated over
-the world, by having to repair a working model of a steam-engine on
-Newcomen’s construction, for the lectures of the Professor of Natural
-Philosophy. In treating this subject, we must presume that the reader
-possesses a competent acquaintance with the history and construction
-of the steam-engine. Those who do not possess the requisite knowledge,
-will find it briefly and clearly stated in a short treatise written
-by Mr. Farey, and in many works of easy access. Newcomen’s engine,
-at the time of which we speak, was of the last and most approved construction.
-The moving power was the weight of the air pressing on
-the upper side of a piston working in a cylinder; steam being
-employed at the termination of each downward stroke to raise the
-piston with its load of air up again, and then to form a vacuum by its
-condensation when cooled by a jet of cold water, which was thrown
-into the cylinder when the admission of steam was stopped. Upon
-repairing the model, Watt was struck by the incapability of the boiler
-to produce a sufficient supply of steam, though it was larger in proportion
-to the cylinder than was usual in working engines. This arose
-from the nature of the cylinder, which being made of brass, a better
-conductor of heat than cast-iron, and presenting, in consequence of its
-small size, a much larger surface in proportion to its solid content
-than the cylinders of working engines, necessarily cooled faster
-between the strokes, and therefore at every fresh admission consumed
-a greater proportionate quantity of steam. But being made aware of
-a much greater consumption of steam than he had imagined, he was
-not satisfied without a thorough inquiry into the cause. With this
-view he made experiments upon the merits of boilers of different
-constructions; on the effect of substituting a less perfect conductor,
-as wood, for the material of the cylinder; on the quantity of coal
-required to evaporate a given quantity of water; on the degree of
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_57'>57</span>expansion of water in the shape of steam: and he constructed a boiler
-which showed the quantity of water evaporated in a given time, and thus
-enabled him to calculate the quantity of steam consumed at each stroke of
-the engine. This proved to be several times the content of the cylinder.
-He soon discovered that, whatever the size and construction of the
-cylinder, an admission of hot steam into it must necessarily be attended
-with very great waste, if, in condensing the steam previously admitted,
-that vessel had been cooled down sufficiently to produce a vacuum
-at all approaching to a perfect one. If, on the other hand, to prevent
-this waste, he cooled it less thoroughly, a considerable quantity
-of steam remained uncondensed within, and by its resistance
-weakened the power of the descending stroke. These considerations
-pointed out a vital defect in Newcomen’s construction: involving
-either a loss of steam, and consequent waste of fuel, or a loss of power
-from the piston’s descending at every stroke through a very imperfect
-vacuum.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>It soon occurred to Watt, that if the condensation were performed
-in a separate vessel, one great evil, the cooling of the cylinder, and the
-consequent waste of steam, would be avoided. The idea once started,
-he soon verified it by experiment. By means of an arrangement of
-cocks, a communication was opened between the cylinder, and a distinct
-vessel exhausted of its air, at the moment when the former was
-filled with steam. The vapour of course rushed to fill up the vacuum,
-and was there condensed by the application of external cold, or by
-a jet of water: so that fresh steam being continually drawn off from
-the cylinder to supply the vacuum continually created, the density of
-that which remained might be reduced within any assignable limits.
-This was the great and fundamental improvement.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Still, however, there was a radical defect in the atmospheric engine,
-inasmuch as the air being admitted into the cylinder at every stroke,
-a great deal of heat was abstracted, and a proportionate quantity of
-steam wasted. To remedy this, Watt excluded the air from the cylinder
-altogether; and recurred to the original plan of making steam the
-moving power of the engine, not a mere agent to produce a vacuum.
-In removing the difficulties of construction which beset this new plan,
-he displayed great ingenuity and powers of resource. On the old
-plan, if the cylinder was not bored quite true, or the piston not
-accurately fitted, a little water poured upon the top rendered it
-perfectly air-tight, and the leakage into the cylinder was of little consequence,
-so long as the injection water was thrown into that vessel.
-But on the new plan, no water could possibly be admitted within the
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_58'>58</span>cylinder; and it was necessary, not merely that the piston should be
-air-tight, but that it should work through an air-tight collar, that no
-portion of the steam admitted above it might escape. This he accomplished
-by packing the piston and the stuffing-box, as it is called,
-through which the piston-rod works, with hemp. A farther improvement
-consisted in equalizing the motion of the engine by admitting
-the steam alternately above and below the piston, by which the power is
-doubled in the same space, and with the same strength of material.
-The vacuum of the condenser was perfected by adding a powerful
-pump, which at once drew off the condensed, and injection water, and
-with it any portion of air which might find admission; as this would
-interfere with the action of the engine, if allowed to accumulate.
-His last great change was to cut off the communication between the
-cylinder and the boiler, when a portion only, as one-third or one-half,
-of the stroke was performed; leaving it to the expansive power of the
-steam to complete it. By this, economy of steam was obtained;
-together with the power of varying the effort of the engine according
-to the work which it has to do, by admitting the steam through a
-greater or smaller portion of the stroke.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>These are the chief improvements which Watt effected at different
-periods of his life. Of the patient ingenuity by which they were rendered
-complete, and the many beautiful contrivances by which he gave
-to senseless matter an almost instinctive power of self-adjustment,
-with precision of action more than belongs to any animated being, we
-cannot speak; nor would it be easy to render description intelligible
-without the help of diagrams. His first patent bears date June 5,
-1769, so that some time elapsed between the invention and publication
-of his improvements. The delay arose partly from his own want
-of funds, and the difficulty of finding a person possessed of capital,
-who could appreciate the merit of his invention; partly from his own
-increasing occupation as a civil engineer. In that capacity he soon
-acquired reputation, and was employed in various works of importance.
-In 1767 he made a survey for a canal, projected, but not executed,
-between the Clyde and Forth. He also made the original survey for the
-Crinan Canal, since carried into effect by Mr. Rennie; and was employed
-extensively in forming harbours, deepening rivers, constructing
-bridges, and all the most important labours of his profession. The
-last and greatest work of this kind on which he was employed, was a
-survey for a canal between Fort William and Inverness, where the
-Caledonian Canal now runs.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>At last Dr. Roebuck, the establisher of the Carron iron-works,
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_59'>59</span>became Watt’s partner in the patent, upon condition that he should
-supply the necessary funds for bringing out the invention, and receive
-in return two-thirds of the profit. That gentleman, however, was
-unable to fulfil his share of the contract, and in 1774 resigned his
-interest to Mr. Boulton, the proprietor of the Soho works, near
-Birmingham. Watt then determined to remove his residence to
-England; a step to which he probably was rendered more favourable
-by the death of his wife in 1773. In 1775, Parliament, in consideration
-of the national importance of Mr. Watt’s inventions, and
-the difficulty and expense of introducing them to public notice, prolonged
-the duration of his patent for twenty-five years.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>The partners now erected engines for pumping water upon a large
-scale, and it was found by comparative trials that the saving of fuel
-amounted to three-fourths of the whole quantity consumed by the
-engines formerly in use. This fact once established, the new machine
-was soon introduced into the deep mines of Cornwall, where, of all
-places, its merits could best be tried. The patentees were paid by
-receiving one-third of the savings of fuel. From the time that
-the new value of their invention was fully proved, Messrs. Boulton
-and Watt had to maintain a harassing contest with numerous invaders
-of their patent rights; and it was not until near the expiration of the
-patent in 1800, that the question was definitively settled in their
-favour. These attacks, however, did not prevent Watt from realizing
-an ample fortune, the well-earned reward of his industry and ability,
-with which he established himself at Heathfield, in the county of
-Stafford.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>At one period Watt devoted much attention to the construction of a
-rotary engine, in which the power of the steam should be applied
-directly to produce circular motion. Like all who have yet attempted
-to solve this problem, he failed to obtain a satisfactory result; and
-turned his attention in consequence to discover the best means of
-converting reciprocal into rotary motion. For this purpose he originally
-intended to use the crank; but having been forestalled by a
-neighbouring manufacturer, who took out a patent for it, having
-obtained his knowledge, as it is said, surreptitiously from one of Watt’s
-workmen, he invented the combination called the sun and planet
-wheels. Afterwards he recurred to the crank, without a shadow of
-opposition from the patentee. He was also the author of that elegant
-contrivance, the parallel motion, which superseded the old-fashioned
-beam and chain, and rendered possible the introduction of the double
-engine, in which an upward, as well as a downward force is applied.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_60'>60</span>His attention, however, was not confined to the subject of steam.
-He invented a copying machine, for which he took out a patent, in
-1780. In the winter of 1784–5, he erected an apparatus, the first of
-its kind, for warming his apartments by steam. He also introduced
-into England the method of bleaching with oxymuriatic acid, or
-chlorine, invented and communicated to him for publication by his
-friend Berthollet. Towards the conclusion of life, he constructed
-a machine for making fac-similes of busts and other carved work; and
-also busied himself in forming a composition for casts, possessing
-much of the transparency and hardness of marble.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>With chemistry Watt was well acquainted. In 1782 he published
-a paper in the Philosophical Transactions, entitled, ‘Thoughts on the
-constituent parts of Water, and of Dephlogisticated Air.’ His only
-other literary undertaking was the revision of Professor Robison’s
-articles on Steam and Steam Engines, in the Encyclopædia Britannica,
-to which he added notes containing an account of his own experiments
-on steam, and a history of his improvements in the engine.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>About the year 1775 he married his second wife, Miss Macgregor.
-Though his health had been delicate through life, yet he reached the
-advanced age of eighty-four. He died at his house at Heathfield,
-August 25, 1819. Chantrey made a bust of him some years before his
-death; from which the same distinguished artist has since executed two
-marble statues, one for his tomb, the other for the Hunterian Museum
-at Glasgow; and a third in bronze, also for Glasgow, which has
-recently been erected there. It represents Watt seated in deep
-thought, a pair of compasses in his hand, and a scroll, on which is the
-draught of a steam-engine, open on his knee.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>We cannot better close this account, than with a short extract from
-the sketch of his character, to which we have alluded in a former page.
-After speaking of the lasting celebrity which Watt has acquired by
-his mechanical inventions, the author continues, that “to those to
-whom he more immediately belonged, who lived in his society and
-enjoyed his conversation, this is not, perhaps, the character in which
-he will be most frequently recalled,—most deeply lamented,—or even
-most highly admired. Independently of his great attainments in
-mechanics, Mr. Watt was an extraordinary and in many respects
-a wonderful man. Perhaps no individual in his age possessed so
-much and such varied and exact information, had read so much, or
-remembered what he had read so accurately and well. He had infinite
-quickness of apprehension, a prodigious memory, and a certain
-rectifying and methodising power of understanding, which extracted
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_61'>61</span>something precious out of all that was presented to it. His stores of
-miscellaneous knowledge were immense, and yet less astonishing than
-the command he had at all times over them. It seemed as if every
-subject that was casually started in conversation with him, had been
-that which he had been last occupied in studying and exhausting;
-such was the copiousness, the precision, and the admirable clearness of
-the information which he poured out upon it without effort or hesitation.
-Nor was this promptitude and compass of knowledge confined, in any
-degree, to the studies connected with his ordinary pursuits. That he
-should have been minutely and extensively skilled in chemistry and
-the arts, and in most of the branches of physical science, might,
-perhaps, have been conjectured; but it could not have been inferred
-from his usual occupations, and probably is not generally known, that
-he was curiously learned in many branches of antiquity, metaphysics,
-medicine, and etymology; and perfectly at home in all the details of
-architecture, music, and law. He was well acquainted, too, with most
-of the modern languages, and familiar with their most recent literature.
-Nor was it at all extraordinary to hear the great mechanician and
-engineer detailing and expounding, for hours together, the metaphysical
-theories of the German logicians, or criticising the measures or
-the matter of the German poetry. *&nbsp;*&nbsp;*</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>“It is needless to say, that with those vast resources, his conversation
-was at all times rich and instructive in no ordinary degree. But
-it was, if possible, still more pleasing than wise, and had all the charms
-of familiarity, with all the substantial treasures of knowledge. No man
-could be more social in his spirit, less assuming or fastidious in his
-manners, or more kind and indulgent towards all who approached him.
-*&nbsp;*&nbsp;* His talk, too, though overflowing with information, had no
-resemblance to lecturing, or solemn discoursing; but, on the contrary,
-was full of colloquial spirit and pleasantry. He had a certain quiet
-and grave humour, which ran through most of his conversation, and a
-vein of temperate jocularity, which gave infinite zest and effect to the
-condensed and inexhaustible information which formed its main staple
-and characteristic. There was a little air of affected testiness, and a
-tone of pretended rebuke and contradiction, which he used towards his
-younger friends, that was always felt by them as an endearing mark
-of his kindness and familiarity, and prized accordingly, far beyond all
-the solemn compliments that ever proceeded from the lips of authority.
-His voice was deep and powerful; though he commonly spoke in a
-low and somewhat monotonous tone, which harmonized admirably with
-the weight and brevity of his observations, and set off to the greatest
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_62'>62</span>advantage the pleasant anecdotes which he delivered with the same
-grave tone, and the same calm smile playing soberly on his lips. There
-was nothing of effort, indeed, or of impatience, any more than of pride
-or levity, in his demeanour; and there was a finer expression of
-reposing strength, and mild self-possession in his manner, than we
-ever recollect to have met with in any other person. He had in his
-character the utmost abhorrence for all sorts of forwardness, parade,
-and pretension; and indeed never failed to put all such impostors out
-of countenance, by the manly plainness and honest intrepidity of his
-language and deportment.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>“He was twice married, but has left no issue but one son, long
-associated with him in his business and studies, and two grandchildren
-by a daughter who predeceased him. He was fellow of the
-Royal Societies both of London and Edinburgh, and one of the few
-Englishmen who were elected members of the National Institute of
-France. All men of learning and of science were his cordial friends;
-and such was the influence of his mild character, and perfect fairness
-and liberality, even upon the pretender to these accomplishments, that
-he lived to disarm even envy itself, and died, we verily believe, without
-a single enemy.”</p>
-
-<div  class='figcenter id001'>
-<img src='images/i_062.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' />
-</div>
-
-<div  class='figcenter id001'>
-<img src='images/i_063fp.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' />
-<div class='ic001'>
-<p>Engraved by W. Holl.<br /><br />MARSHAL TURENNE.<br /><br /><em>From the original Picture by Latour,<br />in the collection of the <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Musée Royale</span>, Paris.</em><br /><br />Under the Superintendance of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge.<br /><br /><em>London. Published by Charles Knight, Pall Mall East.</em></p>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<div  class='figcenter id002'>
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_63'>63</span>
-<img src='images/i_063.jpg' alt='TURENNE.' class='ig001' />
-</div>
-
-<div class='chapter'>
-  <h2 class='c006'>TURENNE</h2>
-</div>
-
-<p class='c011'>Henri de la Tour d’Auvergne, Vicomte de Turenne, born September
-16th, 1611, was the second son of the Duc de Bouillon, prince of
-Sedan, and of Elizabeth of Nassau, daughter of the celebrated William
-of Orange, to whose courage and talents the Netherlands mainly
-owed their deliverance from Spain. Both parents being zealous
-Calvinists, Turenne was of course brought up in the same faith.
-Soon after his father’s death, the Duchess sent him, when he was not
-yet thirteen years old, into the Low Countries, to learn the art of war
-under his uncle, Maurice of Nassau, who commanded the troops of
-Holland in the protracted struggle between that country and Spain.
-Maurice held that there was no royal road to military skill, and placed
-his young relation in the ranks, as a volunteer, where for some time
-he served, enduring all hardships to which the common soldiers were
-exposed. In his second campaign he was promoted to the command
-of a company, which he retained for four years, distinguished by the
-admirable discipline of his men, by unceasing attention to the due
-performance of his own duty, and by his eagerness to witness, and
-become thoroughly acquainted with, every branch of service. In the
-year 1630, family circumstances rendered it expedient that he should
-return to France, where the court received him with distinction, and
-invested him with the command of a regiment.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Four years elapsed before Turenne had an opportunity of distinguishing
-himself in the service of his native country. His first laurels
-were reaped in 1634, at the siege of the strong fortress of La Motte,
-in Lorraine, where he headed the assault, and, by his skill and bravery,
-mainly contributed to its success. For this exploit he was raised at
-the early age of twenty-three to the rank of Marechal de Camp, the
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_64'>64</span>second grade of military rank in France. In the following year, the
-breaking out of war between France and Austria opened a wider
-field of action. Turenne held a subordinate command in the army,
-which, under the Cardinal de la Valette, marched into Germany to
-support the Swedes, commanded by the Duke of Weimar. At first
-fortune smiled on the allies; but, ere long, scarcity of provisions compelled
-them to a disastrous retreat over a ruined country, in the face of
-the enemy. On this occasion the young soldier’s ability and disinterestedness
-were equally conspicuous. He sold his plate and equipage
-for the use of the army; threw away his baggage to load the waggons
-with those stragglers who must otherwise have been abandoned; and
-marched on foot, while he gave up his own horse to the relief of one
-who had fallen, exhausted by hunger and fatigue. These are the acts
-which win the attachment of soldiers, and Turenne was idolized by his.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Our limits will not allow of the relation of those campaigns in which
-the subject of this memoir filled a subordinate part. In 1637–8 he
-again served under La Valette, in Flanders and Germany, after which he
-was made Lieutenant-General, a rank not previously existing in France.
-The three following years he was employed in Italy and Savoy, and
-in 1642 made a campaign in Roussillon, under the eye of Louis XIII.
-In the spring of 1643, the King died; and in the autumn of the same
-year, Turenne received from the Queen Mother and Regent, Anne
-of Austria, a Marshal’s baton, the appropriate reward of his long and
-brilliant services. Four years a captain, four a colonel, three Marechal
-de Camp, five lieutenant-general, he had served in all stations from the
-ranks upwards, and distinguished himself in them not only by military
-talent, but by strict honour and trustworthiness, rare virtues in those
-turbulent times when men were familiar with civil war, and the great
-nobility were too powerful to be peaceful subjects.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Soon after his promotion, he was sent to Germany, to collect and
-reorganise the French army, which had been roughly handled at Duttlingen.
-It wanted rest, men, and money, and he settled it in good
-quarters, raised recruits, and pledged his own credit for the necessary
-sums. The effects of his exertions were soon seen. He arrived in
-Alsace, December, 1643, and in the following May was at the head of
-10,000 men, well armed and equipped, with whom he felt strong
-enough to attack the Imperial army, and raise the siege of Fribourg.
-At that moment the glory which he hoped and was entitled to obtain,
-as the reward of five months’ labour, was snatched from him by the
-arrival of the celebrated Prince de Condè, at that time Duc d’Enghien,
-to assume the command. The vexation which Turenne must have felt
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_65'>65</span>was increased by the difference of age, for the Prince was ten years his
-junior, and of personal character. Condè was ardent and impetuous,
-and flushed by his brilliant victory at Rocroi the year before; Turenne
-cool, calculating, and cautious, unwearied in preparing a certainty of
-success beforehand, yet prompt in striking when the decisive moment
-was come. The difference of their characters was exemplified upon
-this occasion. Merci, the Austrian commander, had taken up a strong
-position, which Turenne said could not be forced; but at the same time
-pointed out the means of turning it. Condè differed from him, and the
-second in command was obliged to submit. On two successive days
-two bloody and unsuccessful assaults were made: on the third Turenne’s
-advice was taken, and on the first demonstration of this change of plan
-Merci retreated. In the following year, ill supplied with every thing,
-and forced to separate his troops widely to obtain subsistence, he was
-attacked at Mariendal, and worsted by his old antagonist Merci. This,
-his first defeat, he felt severely: still he retained his position, and
-was again ready to meet the enemy, when he received positive orders
-from Mazarin to undertake nothing before the arrival of Condè.
-Zealous for his country and careless of personal slights, he marched
-without complaint under the command of his rival: and his magnanimity
-was rewarded at the battle of Nordlingen, in 1645, where the
-centre and right wing having failed in their attack, Turenne with the
-left wing broke the enemy’s right, and falling on his centre in flank,
-threw it into utter confusion. For this service he received the most
-cordial and ample acknowledgments from Condè, both on the field, and
-in his despatches to the Queen Regent. Soon after, Condè, who
-was wounded in the battle, resigned his command into the hands of
-Turenne. The following campaigns of 1646–7–8 exhibited a series
-of successes, by means of which he drove the Duke of Bavaria from
-his dominions, and reduced the Emperor to seek for peace. This was
-concluded at Munster in 1648, and to Turenne’s exertions the termination
-of the thirty years’ war is mainly to be ascribed.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>The repose of France was soon broken by civil war. Mazarin’s
-administration, oppressive in all respects, but especially in fiscal matters,
-had produced no small discontent throughout the country, and
-especially in Paris; where the parliament openly espoused the cause
-of the people against the minister, and were joined by several of the
-highest nobility, urged by various motives of private interest or personal
-pique. Among these were the Prince of Conti, the Duc de
-Longueville, and the Duc de Bouillon. Mazarin, in alarm, endeavoured
-to enlist the ambition of Turenne in his favour, by offering the
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_66'>66</span>government of Alsace, and the hand of his own niece, as the price of
-his adherence to the court. The Viscount, pressed by both parties,
-avoided to declare his adhesion to either: but he unequivocally expressed
-his disapprobation of the Cardinal’s proceedings, and, being
-superseded in his command, retired peaceably to Holland. There he
-remained till the convention of Ruel effected a hollow and insincere
-reconciliation between the court and one of the jarring parties of
-which the Fronde was composed. That reconciliation was soon broken
-by the sudden arrest of Condè, Conti, and the Duc de Longueville.
-Turenne then threw himself into the arms of the Fronde; urged partly
-by indignation at this act of violence, partly by a sympathy with the
-interests of his brother, the Duc de Bouillon; but more, it is said, by
-a devoted attachment to the Duchesse de Longueville, who turned the
-great soldier to her purposes, and laughed at his passion. He sold
-his plate; the Duchess sold her jewels: they concluded an alliance
-with Spain, and the Viscount was soon at the head of an army. But
-the heterogeneous mass of Frenchmen, Spaniards, and Germans, melted
-away during the first campaign; and Turenne, at the head of eight
-thousand men, found himself obliged to encounter the royal army,
-twenty thousand strong. In the battle which ensued, he distinguished
-his personal bravery in several desperate charges: but the disparity
-was too great; and this defeat of Rhetel was of serious consequence
-to the Fronde party. Convinced at last that his true interest lay rather
-on the side of the court, then managed by a woman and a priest, where
-he might be supreme in military matters, than in supporting the cause
-of an impetuous and self-willed leader, such as Condè, Turenne gladly
-listened to overtures of accommodation, and passed over to the support
-of the regency. His conduct in this war appears to be the most objectionable
-part of a long and, for that age, singularly honest life. The
-fault, however, seems to have been rather in espousing, than in abandoning,
-the cause of the Fronde. Many of that party were doubtless
-actuated by sincerely patriotic motives. Such, however, were not the
-motives of Turenne, nor of the nobility to whom he attached himself:
-and if, in returning to his allegiance, he followed the call of interest
-as decidedly as he had followed the call of passion in revolting, it
-was at least a recurrence to his former principle of loyalty, from
-which, in after-life, he never swerved.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>The value of his services was soon made evident. Twice, at the
-head of very inferior troops, he checked Condè in the career of victory:
-and again compelled him to fight under the walls of Paris; where, in
-the celebrated battle of the Faubourg St. Antoine, the Prince and his
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_67'>67</span>army narrowly escaped destruction. Finally, he re-established the
-court at Paris, and compelled Condè to quit the realm. These important
-events took place in one campaign of six months, in 1652.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>In 1654 he again took the field against his former friend and commander,
-Condè, who had taken refuge in Spain, and now led a foreign
-army against his country. The most remarkable operation of the
-campaign was the raising the siege of Arras; which the Spaniards
-had invested, according to the most approved fashion of the day, with
-a strong double line of circumvallation, within which the besieging
-army was supposed to be securely sheltered against the sallies of the
-garrison cooped up within, and the efforts of their friends from without.
-Turenne marched to the relief of the place. This could only be
-effected by forcing the enemy’s entrenchments; which were accordingly
-attacked, contrary to the opinion of his own officers, and carried
-at all points, despite the personal exertions of Condè. The
-Spaniards were forced to retreat. It is remarkable that Turenne, not
-long after, was himself defeated in precisely similar circumstances,
-under the walls of Valenciennes, round which he had drawn lines
-of circumvallation. Once more he found himself in the same position
-at Dunkirk. On this occasion he marched out of his lines to
-meet the enemy, rather than wait, and suffer them to choose their
-point of attack: and the celebrated battle of the Dunes or Sandhills
-ensued, in which he gained a brilliant victory over the best
-Spanish troops, with Condè at their head. This took place in 1657.
-Dunkirk and the greater part of Flanders fell into the hands of the
-French in consequence; and these successes led to the treaty of the
-Pyrenees, which terminated the war in 1658.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Turenne’s signal services were appreciated and rewarded by the
-entire confidence both of the regency, and of Louis himself, after he
-attained his majority and took the reins of state into his own hands.
-At the King’s marriage, in 1660, he was created Marshal-General of
-the French armies, with the significant words, “<span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Il ne tient qu’a vous
-que ce soit davantage</span>.” The monarch is supposed to have meditated
-the revival of the high dignity of Constable of France, which could
-not be held by a Protestant. If this were so, it was a tempting bribe;
-but it failed. Covetousness was no part of Turenne’s character; and
-for ambition, his calm and strong mind could not but see that a dignity
-won by such unworthy means would not elevate him in men’s eyes.
-We would willingly attribute his conduct to a higher principle; but
-there is reason to believe that henceforth he rather sought to be
-converted from the strict tenets of Calvinism in which he had been
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_68'>68</span>brought up. It is at least certain, from his correspondence, that
-about this time he applied himself to theological studies, with which
-an imperfect education, and a life spent in camps, had little familiarized
-him; and that in the year 1668 he solemnly renounced the Protestant
-church. However, he asked and received nothing for himself, and was
-refused one trifling favour which he requested for his nephew: and
-perhaps the most fair and probable explanation of his conversion is,
-that his profession of Calvinism had been habitual and nominal, not
-founded upon inquiry and conviction; and that in becoming a convert
-to Catholicism, he had little to give up, while his mind was strongly
-biassed in favour of the fashionable and established creed.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>When war broke out afresh between France and Spain, in 1667,
-Louis XIV. made his first campaign under Turenne’s guidance, and
-gained possession of nearly the whole of Flanders. In 1672, when
-Louis resolved to undertake in person the conquest of Holland, he
-again placed the command, under himself, in Turenne’s hands, and
-disgraced several marshals who refused to receive orders from the
-Viscount, considering themselves his equals in military rank. How
-Le Grand Monarque forced the passage of the Rhine when there was
-no army to oppose him, and conquered city after city, till he was stopped
-by inundations, under the walls of Amsterdam, has been said and sung
-by his flatterers; and need not be repeated here. But after the King
-had left the army, when the Princes of Germany came to the assistance
-of Holland, and her affairs took a more favourable turn under the
-able guidance of the Prince of Orange, a wider field was offered for
-the display of Turenne’s talents. In the campaign of 1673 he drove
-the Elector of Brandenburg, who had come to the assistance of the
-Dutch, back to Berlin, and compelled him to negotiate for peace. In
-the same year he was opposed, for the first time, to the Imperial
-General Montecuculi, celebrated for his military writings, as well as
-for his exploits in the field. The meeting of these two great generals
-produced no decisive results.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Turenne returned to Paris in the winter, and was received with the
-most flattering marks of favour. On the approach of spring, he was
-sent back to take command of the French army in Alsace, which,
-amounting to no more than ten thousand men, was pressed by a powerful
-confederation of the troops of the empire, and those of Brandenburg,
-once again in the field. Turenne set himself to beat the allies in
-detail, before they could form a junction. He passed the Rhine,
-marched forty French leagues in four days, and came up with the
-Imperialists, under the Duke of Lorraine, at Sintzheim. They occupied
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_69'>69</span>a strong position, their wings resting on mountains; their centre
-protected by a river and a fortified town. Turenne hesitated: it
-seemed rash to attack; but a victory was needful before the combination
-of the two armies should render their force irresistible, and he
-commanded the best troops of France. The event justified his confidence.
-Every post was carried sword in hand. The Marshal had his
-horse killed under him, and was slightly wounded. To the officers,
-who crowded round him with congratulations, he replied, with one of
-those short and happy speeches which tell upon an army more than
-the most laboured harangues, “With troops like you, gentlemen, a
-man ought to attack boldly, for he is sure to conquer.” The beaten
-army fell back behind the Neckar, where they effected a junction with
-the troops of Brandenburg: but they dared attempt nothing further,
-and left the Palatinate in the quiet possession of Turenne. Under
-his eye, and, as it appears from his own letters, at his express recommendation,
-as a matter of policy, that wretched country was laid
-waste to a deplorable extent. This transaction went far beyond the
-ordinary license of war, and excited general indignation even in that
-unscrupulous age. It will ever be remembered as a foul stain upon
-the character of the general who executed, and of the king and minister
-who ordered or consented to it.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Having carried fire and sword through that part of the Palatinate
-which lay upon the right or German bank of the Rhine, he crossed
-that river. But the Imperial troops, reinforced by the Saxons and
-Hessians to the amount of sixty thousand men, pressed him hard: and
-it seemed impossible to keep the field against so great a disparity of
-force; his own troops not amounting to more than twenty thousand.
-He retreated into Lorraine, abandoning the fertile plains of Alsace to
-the enemy, led his army behind the Vosges mountains, and crossing
-them by unfrequented routes, surprised the enemy at Colmar, beat him
-at Mulhausen and Turkheim, and forced him to recross the Rhine.
-This is esteemed the most brilliant of Turenne’s campaigns, and it was
-conceived and conducted with the greater boldness, being in opposition
-to the orders of Louvois. “I know,” he wrote to that minister, in remonstrating,
-and indeed refusing to follow his directions, “I know the
-strength of the Imperialists, their generals, and the country in which
-we are. I take all upon myself, and charge myself with whatever
-may occur.”</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Returning to Paris at the end of the campaign, his journey through
-France resembled a triumphal progress; such was the popular enthusiasm
-in his favour. Not less flattering was his reception by the King,
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_70'>70</span>whose undeviating regard and confidence, undimmed by jealousy or
-envy, is creditable alike to the monarch and to his faithful subject. At
-this time Turenne, it is said, had serious thoughts of retiring to a convent,
-and was induced only by the earnest remonstrances of the King,
-and his representations of the critical state of France, to resume his
-command. Returning to the Upper Rhine, he was again opposed to
-Montecuculi. For two months the resources and well-matched skill
-of the rival captains were displayed in a series of marches and counter-marches,
-in which every movement was so well foreseen and guarded
-against, that no opportunity occurred for coming to action with advantage
-to either side. At last the art of Turenne appeared to prevail;
-when, not many minutes after he had expressed the full belief that
-victory was in his grasp, a cannon-ball struck him while engaged in
-reconnoitring the enemy’s position, previous to giving battle, and he
-fell dead from his horse, July 27th, 1675. The same shot carried off
-the arm of St. Hilaire, commander-in-chief of the artillery. “Weep
-not for me,” said the brave soldier to his son, “it is for that great
-man that we ought to weep.”</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>His subordinates possessed neither the talents requisite to follow up
-his plans, nor the confidence of the troops, who perceived their hesitation,
-and were eager to avenge the death of their beloved general.
-“Loose the piebald,” so they named Turenne’s horse, was the cry;
-“he will lead us on.” But those on whom the command devolved
-thought of nothing less than of attacking the enemy; and after holding
-a hurried council of war, retreated in all haste across the Rhine.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>The Swabian peasants let the spot where he fell lie fallow for many
-years, and carefully preserved a tree under which he had been sitting
-just before. Strange that the people who had suffered so much at his
-hands, should regard his memory with such respect.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>The character of Turenne was more remarkable for solidity than for
-brilliancy. Many generals may have been better qualified to complete
-a campaign by one decisive blow; few probably have laid the scheme
-of a campaign with more judgment, or shown more skill and patience
-in carrying their plans into effect. And it is remarkable that, contrary
-to general experience, he became much more enterprising in advanced
-years than he had been in youth. Of that impetuous spirit, which
-sometimes carries men to success where caution would have hesitated
-and failed, he possessed little. In his earlier years he seldom ventured
-to give battle, except where victory was nearly certain: but a course of
-victory inspired confidence, and trained by long practice to distinguish
-the difficult from the impossible, he adopted in his later campaigns a<a id='t70'></a>
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_71'>71</span>bolder style of tactics than had seemed congenial to his original temper.
-In this respect he offered a remarkable contrast to his rival in
-fame, Condè, who, celebrated in early life for the headlong valour,
-even to rashness, of his enterprises, became in old age prudent almost
-to timidity. Equally calm in success or in defeat, Turenne was always
-ready to prosecute the one, or to repair the other. And he carried the
-same temper into private life, where he was distinguished for the dignity
-with which he avoided quarrels, under circumstances in which
-lesser men would have found it hard to do so, without incurring the
-reproach of cowardice. Nor must we pass over his thorough honesty
-and disinterestedness in pecuniary matters; a quality more rare in a
-great man then than it is now.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>In 1653 he married the daughter of the Duc de la Force. She
-died in 1666, without leaving children.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Turenne composed memoirs of his own life, which are published
-in the Life of him by the Chevalier Ramsay. There is also a collection
-of his Military Maxims, by Captain Williamson. In 1782 Grimoard
-published his ‘Collection des Memoirs du Marechal de Turenne.’
-Deschamps, an officer who served under him, wrote a full account of
-his two last campaigns; and the history of his four last campaigns has
-been published under the name of Beaurain. We may also refer the
-reader for the history of these times to Voltaire, <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Siècle de Louis XIV.</span></p>
-
-<div  class='figcenter id001'>
-<img src='images/i_071.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' />
-<div class='ic001'>
-<p>French Cavalier of the seventeenth century.</p>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<div  class='figcenter id002'>
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_72'>72</span>
-<img src='images/i_072.jpg' alt='BOYLE.' class='ig001' />
-</div>
-
-<div class='chapter'>
-  <h2 class='c006'>BOYLE</h2>
-</div>
-
-<p class='c011'>This excellent and accomplished person was one of those who do
-honour to high birth and ample fortune, by employing them, not as the
-means of selfish gratification or personal aggrandisement, but in the
-furtherance of every useful pursuit, and every benevolent purpose.
-By the lover of science he is honoured as one of the first and most
-successful cultivators of experimental philosophy; to the Christian his
-memory is endeared, as that of one, who, in the most licentious period
-of English history, showed a rare example of religion and virtue in
-exalted station, and was an early and zealous promoter of the diffusion
-of the Scriptures in foreign lands.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Robert Boyle was the youngest son but one of a statesman eminent
-in the successive reigns of Elizabeth, and the first James and Charles;
-and well known in Ireland by the honourable title of the Great Earl
-of Cork. He has left an unfinished sketch of his own early life, in
-which he assumes the name of Philaretus, a lover of virtue; and speaks
-of his childhood as characterized by two things, a more than usual
-inclination to study, and a rigid observance of truth in all things. He
-was born in Ireland, January 25, 1626–7. In his ninth year he was
-sent, with his elder brother Francis, to Eton, where he spent
-between three and four years: in the early part of which, under the
-guidance of an able and judicious tutor, he made great progress
-both in the acquisition of knowledge, and in forming habits of accurate
-and diligent inquiry. But his studies were interrupted by a severe
-ague; and while recovering from that disorder he contracted a habit
-of desultory reading, which it afterwards cost him some pains to conquer
-by a laborious course of mathematical calculations. During
-his abode at Eton several remarkable escapes from imminent peril
-occurred to him, upon which, in after-life, he looked back with
-reverential gratitude, and with the full conviction that the direct hand
-of an overruling providence was to be traced in them.</p>
-
-<div  class='figcenter id001'>
-<img src='images/i_072fp.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' />
-<div class='ic001'>
-<p><em>Engraved by R. Woodman.</em><br /><br />ROBERT BOYLE.<br /><br /><em>From an original Picture, in the possession of Lord Dover.</em><br /><br />Under the Superintendance of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge.<br /><br /><em>London. Published by Charles Knight, Pall Mall East.</em></p>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_73'>73</span>Towards the close of 1637, as it should seem, his father, who had
-purchased the manor of Stalbridge, in Dorsetshire, took him home.
-In October, 1638, he was sent abroad, under the charge of a
-governor, with his brother Francis. They visited France, Switzerland,
-and Italy; and Philaretus’s narrative of his travels is not without
-interest. The only incident which we shall mention as occurring
-during this period, is one which may be thought by many scarcely
-worthy of notice. Boyle himself used to speak of it as the most
-considerable accident of his whole life; and for its influence upon
-his life it ought not to be omitted. While staying at Geneva, he
-was waked in the night by a thunder-storm of remarkable violence.
-Taken unprepared and startled, it struck him that the day of judgment
-was at hand; “whereupon,” to use his own words, “the consideration
-of his unpreparedness to welcome it, and the hideousness of
-being surprised by it in an unfit condition, made him resolve and vow,
-that if his fears that night were disappointed, all further additions to
-his life should be more religiously and watchfully employed.” He
-has been spoken of as being a sceptic before this sudden conversion.
-This does not appear from his own account, farther than as any boy of
-fourteen may be so called, who has never taken the trouble fully to convince
-himself of those truths which he professes to believe. On the
-breaking out of the rebellion in 1642, the troubled state of England,
-and the death of the Earl of Cork, involved the brothers in considerable
-pecuniary difficulties. They returned to England in 1644, and
-Robert, after a short delay, took possession of the manor of Stalbridge,
-which, with a considerable property in Ireland, had been bequeathed
-to him by his father. By the interest of his brother and sister, Lord
-Broghill and Lady Ranelagh, who were on good terms with the ruling
-party, he obtained protections for his property, and for the next six
-years made Stalbridge his principal abode. This portion of his life
-was chiefly spent in the study of ethical and natural philosophy; and
-his name began already to be respected among the men of science of
-the day.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>In 1652 he went to Ireland to look after his property, and spent the
-greater part of the next two years there. Returning to England in
-1654, he settled at Oxford. That which especially directed him to
-this place, besides its being generally suited to the prosecution of all
-his literary and philosophical pursuits, was the presence of that knot
-of learned men, from whom the Royal Society took its rise. It consisted
-of a few only, but those eminent; Bishop Wilkins, Wallis,
-Ward, Wren, and others, who used to meet for the purpose of conferring
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_74'>74</span>upon philosophical subjects, and mutually communicating and
-reasoning on their respective experiments and discoveries.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>At the restoration, Boyle was treated with great respect by the
-King; and was strongly pressed to enter the church by Lord Clarendon,
-who thought that his high birth, eminent learning, and exemplary
-character might be of material service to the revived establishment.
-After serious consideration he declined the proposal, upon two
-accounts, as he told Burnet; first, because he thought that while he
-performed no ecclesiastical duties, and received no pay, his testimony
-in favour of religion would carry more weight; secondly, because he
-felt no especial vocation to take holy orders, which he considered indispensable
-to the proper entering into that service.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>From this time forwards, Boyle’s life is not much more than the
-history of his works. It passed in an even current of tranquil happiness,
-and diligent employment, little broken, except by illness, from
-which he was a great sufferer. At an early age, he was attacked by
-the stone, and continued through life subject to paroxysms of that
-dreadful disease: and in 1670, he was afflicted with a severe paralytic
-complaint, from which he fortunately recovered without sustaining any
-mental injury. On the incorporation of the Royal Society in 1663, he
-was named as one of the council, in the charter; and as he had been
-one of the original members, so through his life he continued to publish
-his shorter treatises in their Transactions. In 1662 he was appointed
-by the King, Governor of the Corporation for propagating the Gospel
-in New England. The diffusion of Christianity was a favourite subject
-of exertion with him through life. For the sole purpose of exerting a
-more effectual influence in introducing it into India, he became a
-Director of the East India Company; and, at his own expense, caused
-the Gospels and Acts to be translated into Malay, and five hundred
-copies to be printed and sent abroad. He also caused a translation of
-the Bible into Irish to be made and published, at an expense of £700;
-and bore great part of the expense of a similar undertaking in the
-Welsh language. To other works of the same sort he was a liberal
-contributor: and as in speech and writing he was a zealous, yet
-temperate advocate of religion, so he showed his sincerity by a
-ready extension of his ample funds to all objects which tended to promote
-the religious welfare of his fellow-creatures.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>In the year 1666 he took up his abode in London, where he continued
-for the remainder of his life. We have little more to state of
-his personal history. He was elected President of the Royal Society
-in 1680, but declined that well-earned honour, as having, in his own
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_75'>75</span>words, “a great (and perhaps peculiar) tenderness in point of oaths.”
-In the course of 1688 he began to feel his strength decline, and set
-himself seriously to complete those of his undertakings which he
-judged most important, and to arrange such of his papers as required
-to be prepared for publication. It gives us rather a curious notion of
-the scientific morality of the day, to learn that he had been a great
-sufferer by the stealing of his papers. Such at least was his own
-belief, hinted in a public advertisement, and expressed more fully in
-his private communications. His manuscript books disappeared in an
-incomprehensible way, insomuch that he resolved to write upon loose
-sheets of paper, “that the ignorance of the coherence might keep men
-from thinking them worth stealing.” Notwithstanding he complains
-of numerous losses, and expresses a determination to secure the “remaining
-part of his writings, especially those that contain most matters
-of fact, by sending them maimed and unfinished, as they come to
-hand, to the press.” A still more serious loss occurred to him through
-the carelessness of a servant, who broke a bottle of vitriol over a box
-of manuscripts prepared for publication, by which a large part of them
-were utterly ruined. To these misfortunes, the non-appearance of
-many promised works, and the imperfect state of others, is to be
-ascribed. During the years 1689–90, he gradually withdrew himself
-more and more from his other employments, and from the claims of
-society, to devote himself entirely to the preparation of his papers.
-He died, unmarried, December 31, 1691, aged sixty-five years, and
-was buried in the chancel of St. Martin’s-in-the-fields.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>To give merely the dates and titles of Boyle’s several publications,
-would occupy several pages. They are collected in five volumes folio,
-by Dr. Birch, and amount in number to ninety-seven. The philosophical
-works have been abridged in three volumes quarto by Dr.
-Shaw, who has prefixed to his edition a character of the author, and of
-his works. From 1660 to the end of his life, every year brought
-fresh evidence of his close application to science, and the versatility of
-his talents, and the extent of his knowledge. His attention was
-directed to chemistry, mathematics, mechanics, medicine, anatomy;
-but more especially to the former, in its many branches: and though
-he is not altogether free from the reproach of credulity, and appears
-not to have entirely freed himself from the delusions of the alchymists,
-still he did more towards overthrowing their mischievous doctrines, and
-establishing his favourite science on a firm foundation, than any man;
-and his indefatigable diligence in inquiry, and unquestioned honesty of
-relation, entitle him to a very high place among the fathers of modern
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_76'>76</span>chemistry. On this point we may quote the testimony of the celebrated
-Boerhaave, (Chemistry, vol. i. p. 55,) who says, that among
-the writers who have treated of Chemistry with a view to natural
-philosophy and medicine, we may reckon among the chief, the
-Hon. Robert Boyle. Redi also, in his ‘<span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Experimenta Naturalia</span>,’ affirms
-that in experimental philosophy there never was any man so distinguished,
-and that perhaps there never will be his equal in discovering
-natural causes.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>It is, however, as the father of pneumatic philosophy that his scientific
-fame is most securely based. To the invention of the air-pump
-he possesses no claim, an instrument of that sort having been exhibited
-in 1654 by Otto Guericke of Magdeburg: but his improvements, and
-his well-combined and ingenious experiments first made that instrument
-of value, and proved the elasticity of the air. These were given to
-the world in his first published, and perhaps his most important work,
-entitled, ‘New Experiments upon the Spring of the Air.’</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>A considerable portion of Boyle’s works is occupied by religious
-treatises. Two of these, ‘Seraphic Love,’ and a ‘Free Discourse
-against Swearing,’ were written before he had reached the age of
-twenty; though not published for many years after. He established
-by his will an annual lecture, “in proof of the Christian religion
-against notorious infidels.” Bentley was the first preacher on this
-foundation.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Boyle’s funeral sermon was preached by Bishop Burnet, who had
-been under some obligation to him for assistance in publishing his
-History of the Reformation. The sermon has been considered one of
-Burnet’s best; and it has this advantage, that funeral panegyric has
-seldom been more sincerely and honestly bestowed. We conclude by
-quoting one or two passages, which illustrate the beauty of Boyle’s
-private character. “He had brought his mind to such a freedom that
-he was not apt to be imposed on; and his modesty was such that he
-did not dictate to others; but proposed his own sense with a due and
-decent distrust, and was ever very ready to hearken to what was suggested
-to him by others. When he differed from any, he expressed
-himself in so humble and obliging a way that he never treated things
-or persons with neglect, and I never heard that he offended any one
-person in his whole life by any part of his demeanour. For if at any
-time he saw cause to speak roundly to any, it was never in passion,
-or with any reproachful or indecent expressions. And as he was
-careful to give those who conversed with him no cause or colour for
-displeasure, he was yet more careful of those who were absent, never
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_77'>77</span>to speak ill of any, in which he was the exactest man I ever knew.
-If the discourse turned to be hard on any, he was presently silent;
-and if the subject was too long dwelt on, he would at last interpose,
-and, between reproof and raillery, divert it.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>“He was exactly civil, even to ceremony, and though he felt his
-easiness of access, and the desires of many, all strangers in particular,
-to be much with him, made great waste of his time; yet, as he was
-severe in that, not to be denied when he was at home, so he said he
-knew the heart of a stranger, and how much eased his own had been,
-while travelling, if admitted to the conversation of those he desired to
-see; therefore he thought his obligation to strangers was more than
-bare civility; it was a piece of religious charity in him.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>“He had, for almost forty years, laboured under such a feebleness of
-body, and such lowness of strength and spirits, that it will appear a
-surprising thing to imagine how it was possible for him to read, to
-meditate, to try experiments, and write as he did. He bore all his
-infirmities, and some sharp pains, with the decency and submission
-that became a Christian and philosopher. He had about him all that
-unaffected neglect of pomp in clothes, lodging, furniture, and equipage,
-which agreed with his grave and serious course of life. He was
-advised to a very ungrateful simplicity of diet, which, by all appearance,
-was that which preserved him so long beyond all men’s expectation.
-This he observed so strictly, that in the course of above thirty years he
-neither ate nor drank to gratify the varieties of appetite, but merely to
-support nature; and was so regular in it, that he never once transgressed
-the rule, measure and kind that were prescribed him. *&nbsp;*&nbsp;*</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>“His knowledge was of so vast an extent, that were it not for the
-variety of vouchers in their several sort, I should be afraid to say
-all I know. He carried the study of Hebrew very far into the Rabbinical
-writings and the other Oriental languages. He had read so
-much out of the Fathers, that he had formed out of it a clear judgment
-of all the eminent ones. He had read a vast deal on the Scriptures,
-and had gone very nicely through the whole controversies on religion,
-and was a true master of the whole body of divinity. He read the
-whole compass of the mathematical sciences; and though he did not
-set himself to spring any new game, yet he knew even the abstrusest
-parts of geometry. Geography, in the several parts of it that related
-to navigation or travelling, history, and books of travels, were his
-diversions. He went very nicely through all the parts of physic; only
-the tenderness of his nature made him less able to endure the exactness
-of anatomical dissections, especially of living animals, though he
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_78'>78</span>knew them to be most instructive. But for the history of nature,
-ancient or modern, of the productions of all countries, of the virtues and
-improvements of plants, of ores and minerals, and all the varieties that are
-in them in different climates, he was by much, by very much, the readiest
-and perfectest I ever knew, in the greatest compass, and with the truest
-exactness. This put him in the way of making that vast variety of
-experiments, beyond any man, as far as we know, that ever lived. And
-in these, as he made a great progress in new discoveries, so he used so
-nice a strictness, and delivered them with so scrupulous a truth, that
-all who have examined them, may find how safely the world may
-depend upon them. But his peculiar and favourite study was chemistry,
-in which he engaged with none of those ravenous and ambitious designs
-that draw many into them. His design was only to find out Nature,
-to see into what principles things might be resolved, and of what they
-were compounded, and to prepare good medicaments for the bodies of
-men. He spent neither his time nor his fortune upon the vain pursuits
-of high promises and pretensions. He always kept himself within
-the compass that his estate might well bear. And as he made
-chemistry much the better for his dealing with it, so he never made
-himself either the worse, or the poorer for it.”</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>It would be easy to multiply testimonies of the high reputation in
-which Boyle was held: indeed the reader will find numerous instances
-collected in the article Boyle, in Dr. Kippis’s Biographia Britannica,
-the perusal of which will amply gratify the reader’s curiosity. Still
-more detailed accounts of Boyle’s life and character will be found in
-other works to which we have already referred, especially in Dr.
-Birch’s Life.</p>
-
-<div  class='figcenter id001'>
-<img src='images/i_078.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' />
-<div class='ic001'>
-<p>Air-Pump.</p>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<div  class='figcenter id001'>
-<img src='images/i_079fp.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' />
-<div class='ic001'>
-<p><em>Engraved by E. Scriven.</em><br /><br />SIR ISAAC NEWTON.<br /><br /><em>From the original Picture by Vanderbank in the possession of the Royal Society.</em><br /><br />Under the Superintendance of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge.<br /><br /><em>London. Published by Charles Knight, Pall Mall East.</em></p>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<div  class='figcenter id002'>
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_79'>79</span>
-<img src='images/i_079.jpg' alt='NEWTON.' class='ig001' />
-</div>
-
-<div class='chapter'>
-  <h2 class='c006'>NEWTON</h2>
-</div>
-
-<p class='c011'>Isaac Newton was born on Christmas-day, 1642 (O. S.), at Woolsthorpe,
-a hamlet in the parish of Colsterworth, in Lincolnshire. In
-that spot his family had possessed a small estate for more than a
-hundred years; and his father died there a few months after his
-marriage to Harriet Ayscough, and before the birth of his son. The
-widow soon married again, and removed to North Witham, the rectory
-of her second husband, Mr. Smith, leaving her son, a weakly child
-who had not been expected to live through the earliest infancy, under
-the charge of her mother.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Newton’s education was commenced at the parish school, and at the
-age of twelve he was sent to Grantham for classical instruction. At
-first he was idle, but soon rose to the head of the school. The
-peculiar bent of his mind soon showed itself in his recreations. He
-was fond of drawing, and sometimes wrote verses; but he chiefly
-amused himself with mechanical contrivances. Among these was a
-model of a wind-mill, turned either by the wind, or by a mouse
-enclosed in it, which he called the miller; a mechanical carriage moved
-by the person who sat in it; and a water-clock, which was long used
-in the family of Mr. Clarke, an apothecary, with whom he boarded at
-Grantham. This was not his only method of measuring time: the
-house at Woolsthorpe, whither he returned at the age of fifteen, still
-contains dials made by him during his residence there.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Mr. Smith died in 1656, and his widow then returned to Woolsthorpe
-with her three children by her second marriage. She brought Newton
-himself also thither, in the hope that he might be useful in the
-management of the farm. This expectation was fortunately disappointed.
-When sent to Grantham on business, he used to leave its
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_80'>80</span>execution to the servant who accompanied him, and passed his time in
-reading, sometimes by the way-side, sometimes at the house of Mr.
-Clark. His mother no longer opposed the evident tendency of his
-disposition. He returned to school at Grantham, and was removed
-thence in his eighteenth year to Trinity College, Cambridge.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>The 5th of June, 1660, was the day of his admission as a sizer into
-that distinguished society. He applied himself eagerly to the study of
-mathematics, and mastered its difficulties with an ease and rapidity
-which he was afterwards inclined almost to regret, from an opinion
-that a closer attention to its elementary parts would have improved
-the elegance of his own methods of demonstration. In 1664 he became
-a scholar of his college, and in 1667 was elected to a fellowship, which
-he retained beyond the regular time of its expiration in 1675, by a
-special dispensation authorizing him to hold it without taking orders.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>It is necessary to return to an earlier date, to trace the series of
-Newton’s discoveries. This is not the occasion for a minute enumeration
-of them, or for any elaborate discussion of their value or explanation
-of their principles; but their history and succession require some
-notice. The earliest appear to have related to pure mathematics. The
-study of Dr. Wallis’s works led him to investigate certain properties of
-series, and this course of research soon conducted him to the celebrated
-Binomial Theorem. The exact date of his invention of the method
-of Fluxions is not known; but it was anterior to 1666, when the
-breaking out of the plague obliged him for a time to quit Cambridge,
-and consequently when he was only about twenty-three years old.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>This change of residence interrupted his optical researches, in
-which he had already laid the foundation of his great discoveries. He
-had decomposed light into the coloured rays of which it is compounded,
-and having thus ascertained the principal cause of the confusion of
-the images formed by refraction, he had turned his attention to the
-construction of telescopes which should act by reflection, and be free
-from this evil. He had not, however, overcome the practical difficulties
-of his undertaking, when his retreat from Cambridge for a
-time stopped this train of experiment and invention.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>On quitting Cambridge Newton retired to Woolsthorpe, where his
-mind was principally employed upon the system of the world. The
-theory of Copernicus and the discoveries of Galileo and Kepler had at
-length furnished the materials from which the true system was to be
-deduced. It was indeed all involved in Kepler’s celebrated laws.
-The equable description of areas proved the existence of a central
-force; the elliptical form of the planetary orbits, and the relation
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_81'>81</span>between their magnitude and the time occupied in describing them,
-ascertained the law of its variation. But no one had arisen to demonstrate
-these necessary consequences, or even to conjecture the universal
-principle from which they were derived. The existence of a central
-force had been surmised, and the law of its action guessed at; but no
-proof had been given of either, and little attention had been awakened
-by the conjecture.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Newton’s discovery appears to have been quite independent of any
-speculations of his predecessors. The circumstances attending it are
-well known: the very spot in which it first dawned upon him is
-ascertained. He was sitting in the garden at Woolsthorpe, when the
-fall of an apple called his attention to the force which caused its
-descent, to the probable limits of its action and law of its operation.
-Its power was not sensibly diminished at any distance at which experiments
-had been made: might it not then extend to the moon and
-guide that luminary in her orbit? It was certain that her motion was
-regulated in the same manner as that of the planets round the sun: if,
-therefore, the law of the sun’s action could be ascertained, that by
-which the earth acted would also be found by analogy. Newton,
-therefore, proceeded to ascertain by calculation from the known
-elements of the planetary orbits, the law of the sun’s action. The great
-experiment remained: the trial whether the moon’s motions showed
-the force acting upon her to correspond with the theoretical amount of
-terrestrial gravity at her distance. The result was disappointment.
-The trial was to be made by ascertaining the exact space by which the
-earth’s action turned the moon aside from her course in a given time.
-This depended on her actual distance from the earth, which was only
-known by comparison with the earth’s diameter. The received estimate
-of that quantity was very erroneous; it proceeded on the supposition
-that a degree of latitude was only sixty English miles, nearly
-a seventh part less than its actual length. The calculation of the moon’s
-distance and of the space described by her, gave results involved in
-the same proportion of error; and thus the space actually described
-appeared to be a seventh part less than that which corresponded to
-the theory. It was not Newton’s habit to force the results of experiments
-into conformity with hypothesis. He could not, indeed,
-abandon his leading idea, which rested, in the case of the planetary
-motions, on something very nearly amounting to demonstration. But it
-seemed that some modification was required before it could be applied
-to the moon’s motion, and no satisfactory solution of the difficulty
-occurred. The scheme therefore was incomplete, and, in conformity
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_82'>82</span>with his constant habit of producing nothing till it was fully matured,
-Newton kept it undivulged for many years.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>On his return to Cambridge Newton again applied himself to the
-construction of reflecting telescopes, and succeeded in effecting it in
-1668. In the following year Dr. Barrow resigned in his favour the
-Lucasian professorship of mathematics, which Newton continued to
-hold till the year 1703, when Whiston, who had been his deputy
-from 1699, succeeded him in the chair. On January 11, 1672,
-Newton was elected a Fellow of the Royal Society. He was then best
-known by the invention of the reflecting telescope; but immediately
-on his election he communicated to the Society the particulars of his
-theory of light, on which he had already delivered three courses of
-lectures at Cambridge, and they were shortly afterwards published in
-the Philosophical Transactions.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>It is impossible here to state the various phenomena of light and
-colours which were first detected and explained by Newton. They
-entirely changed the science of optics, and every advance which has
-since been made in it has only added to the importance and confirmed
-the value of his observations. The success of the new theory was
-complete. Newton, however, was much vexed and harassed by the
-discussions which it occasioned. The annoyance which he thus experienced
-made him even think of abandoning the pursuit of science, and
-although it failed to withdraw him from the studies to which he was
-devoted, it confirmed him in his unwillingness to publish their results.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>The next few years of Newton’s life were not marked by any
-remarkable events. They were passed almost entirely at Cambridge,
-in the prosecution of the researches in which he was engaged. The
-most important incident was the communication to Oldenburgh, and,
-through him, to Leibnitz, that he possessed a method of determining
-maxima and minima, of drawing tangents, and performing other
-difficult mathematical operations. This was the method of fluxions,
-but he did not announce its name or its processes. Leibnitz, in
-return, explained to him the principles and processes of the Differential
-Calculus. This correspondence took place in the years 1676 and 1677:
-but the method of fluxions had been communicated to Barrow and
-Collins as early as 1669, in a tract, first printed in 1711, under the
-title ‘<span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Analysis per equationes numero terminorum infinitas</span>.’ Newton
-had indeed intended to publish his discovery as an introduction to an
-edition of Kinckhuysen’s Algebra, which he undertook to prepare in
-1672; but the fear of controversy prevented him, and the method of
-fluxions was not publicly announced till the appearance of the Principia
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_83'>83</span>in 1687. The edition of Kinckhuysen’s treatise did not appear;
-but the same year, 1672, was marked by Newton’s editing the Geography
-of Varenius.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>In 1679 Newton’s attention was again called to the theory of gravitation,
-and by a fuller investigation of the conditions of elliptical
-motion, he was confirmed in the opinion that the phenomena of the
-planets were referable to an attractive force in the sun, of which the
-intensity varied in the inverse proportion of the square of the distance.
-The difficulty about the amount of the moon’s motion remained, but
-it was shortly to be removed. In 1679 Picard effected a new measurement
-of a degree of the earth’s surface, and Newton heard of the
-result at a meeting of the Royal Society in June, 1682. He immediately
-returned home to repeat his former calculation with these new
-data. Every step of the process made it more probable that the discrepance
-which had so long perplexed him would wholly disappear:
-and so great was his excitement at the prospect of entire success that
-he was unable to proceed with the calculation, and intrusted its completion
-to a friend. The triumph was perfect, and he found the theory
-of his youth sufficient to explain all the great phenomena of nature.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>From this time Newton devoted unremitting attention to the development
-of his system, and a period of nearly two years was entirely
-absorbed by it. In 1684 the outline of the mighty work was finished;
-yet it is likely that it would still have remained unknown, had
-not Halley, who was himself on the track of some part of the discovery,
-gone to Cambridge in August of that year to consult Newton about
-some difficulties he had met with. Newton communicated to him a
-treatise <span lang="la" xml:lang="la">De Motu Corporum</span>, which afterwards, with some additions,
-formed the first two books of the Principia. Even then Halley found
-it difficult to persuade him to communicate the treatise to the Royal
-Society, but he finally did so in April, 1686, with a desire that it
-should not immediately be published, as there were yet many things
-to complete. Hooke, whose unwearied ingenuity had guessed at the
-true law of gravity, immediately claimed to himself the honour of the
-discovery; how unjustly it is needless to say, for the merit consisted
-not in the conjecture but the demonstration. Newton was inclined
-in consequence to prevent the publication of the work, or at least of
-the third part, <span lang="la" xml:lang="la">De Mundi Systemate</span>, in which the mathematical conclusions
-of the former books were applied to the system of the universe.
-Happily his reluctance was overcome, and the whole work was published
-in May, 1687. Its doctrines were too novel and surprising to
-meet with immediate assent; but the illustrious author at once received
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_84'>84</span>the tribute of admiration for the boldness which had formed, and the
-skill which had developed his theory, and he lived to see it become the
-common philosophical creed of all nations.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>We next find Newton acting in a very different character. James II.
-had insulted the University of Cambridge by a requisition to admit a
-Benedictine monk to the degree of Master of Arts without taking the
-oaths enjoined by the constitution of the University. The mandate
-was disobeyed; and the Vice-Chancellor was summoned before the
-Ecclesiastical Commission to answer for the contempt. Nine delegates,
-of whom Newton was one, were appointed by the University to
-defend their proceedings; and their exertions were successful. He
-was soon after elected to the Convention Parliament as member for
-the University of Cambridge. That parliament was dissolved in
-February, 1690, and Newton, who was not a candidate for a seat in
-the one which succeeded it, returned to Cambridge, where he continued
-to reside for some years, notwithstanding the efforts of Locke,
-and some other distinguished persons with whom he had become
-acquainted in London, to fix him permanently in the metropolis.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>During this time he continued to be occupied with philosophical
-research, and with scientific and literary correspondence. Chemical
-investigations appear to have engaged much of his time; but the
-principal results of his studies were lost to the world by a fire in his
-chambers about the year 1692. The consequences of this accident
-have been very differently related. According to one version, a
-favourite dog, called Diamond, caused the mischief, and the story
-has been often told, that Newton was only provoked, by the loss
-of the labour of years, to the exclamation, “Oh, Diamond! Diamond!
-thou little knowest the mischief thou hast done.” Another,
-and probably a better authenticated account, represents the disappointment
-as preying deeply on his spirits for at least a month from the
-occurrence.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>We have more means of tracing Newton’s other pursuits about this
-time. History, chronology, and divinity were his favourite relaxations
-from science, and his reputation stood high as a proficient in these
-studies. In 1690 he communicated to Locke his ‘Historical account
-of two notable corruptions of the Scriptures,’ which was first published
-long after his death. About the same time he was engaged in those
-researches which were afterwards embodied in his Observations on the
-Prophecies: and in December, 1692, he was in correspondence with
-Bentley on the application of his own system to the support of natural
-theology.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_85'>85</span>During the latter part of 1692 and the beginning of 1693 Newton’s
-health was considerably impaired, and he laboured in the summer
-under some epidemic disorder. It is not likely that the precise character
-or amount of his indisposition will ever be discovered; but it seems,
-though the opinion has been much controverted, that for a short time
-it affected his understanding, and that in September, 1693, he was
-not in the full possession of his mental faculties. The disease was
-soon removed, and there is no reason to suppose that it ever
-recurred. But the course of his life was changed; and from this time
-forward he devoted himself chiefly to the completion of his former
-works, and abstained from any new career of continued research.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>His time indeed was less at his own disposal than it had been. In
-1696, Mr. Montague, the Chancellor of the Exchequer, an early friend
-of Newton, appointed him to the Wardenship of the Mint, and in 1699
-he was raised to the office of Master. He removed to London, and
-was much occupied, especially during the new coinage in 1696 and
-1697, with the duties of his office. Still he found time to superintend
-the editions of his earlier works, which successively appeared with very
-material additions and improvements. The great work on Optics
-appeared for the first time in a complete form in 1704, after the
-death of Hooke had freed Newton from the fear of new controversies.
-It was accompanied by some of his earlier mathematical treatises;
-and contained also, in addition to the principal subject of the work,
-suggestions on a variety of subjects of the highest philosophical interest,
-embodied in the shape of queries. Among these is to be found the
-first suggestion of the polarity of light; and we may mention at the
-same time, although they occur in a different part of the work, the
-remarkable conjectures, since verified, of the combustible nature of
-the diamond, and the existence of an inflammable principle in water.
-The second edition of the Principia appeared under the care of Cotes
-in 1713, after having been the subject of correspondence between
-Newton and his editor for nearly four years. Dr. Pemberton published
-a third edition in 1725, and he frequently communicated about
-the work with Newton who was then eighty-two years old.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>These were the chief scientific employments of Newton’s latter life:
-and it is not necessary to particularize all its minor details. In 1712
-he made some improvements in his <span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Arithmetica Universalis</span>, a work
-containing his algebraical discoveries, of which Whiston had surreptitiously
-published an edition in 1707. It is also worthy of remark
-that at the beginning of the year 1697, John Bernouilli addressed
-two problems as a challenge to the mathematicians of Europe, and that
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_86'>86</span>Leibnitz in 1716 made a similar appeal to the English analysts; and
-that Newton in each case undertook and succeeded in the investigation.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>This enumeration of Newton’s philosophical employments has far
-outrun the order of time. After his return to London, compliments
-and honours flowed in rapidly upon him. In 1699 he was elected one
-of the first foreign associates of the <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Académie des Sciences</span> at Paris;
-and in 1701 he was a second time returned to Parliament by the University
-of Cambridge. He did not, however, long retain his seat. At
-the election in 1705 he was at the bottom of the poll, and he does not
-appear again to have been a candidate. In 1703 he was chosen President
-of the Royal Society, and held that office till his death. In
-1705 he was knighted by Queen Anne upon her visit to Cambridge.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Newton’s life in London was one of much dignity and comfort. He
-was courted by the distinguished of all ranks, and particularly by the
-Princess of Wales, who derived much pleasure from her intercourse
-both with him and Leibnitz. His domestic establishment was liberal,
-and was superintended during great part of his time by his niece,
-Mrs. Barton, a woman of much beauty and talent, who married Mr.
-Conduitt, his assistant and successor at the Mint. Newton’s liberality
-was almost boundless, yet he died rich.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>The only material drawback to Newton’s enjoyment during this
-portion of his life, seems to have arisen from controversies as to the
-history and originality of his discoveries; a molestation to which his
-slowness to publish them very naturally exposed him. There was
-a long and angry dispute with Leibnitz about the priority of fluxions
-or the differential calculus; and, after the fashion of most disputes, it
-diverged widely from the original ground, and it became necessary for
-Newton to vindicate the religious and metaphysical tendencies of his
-greatest works. His success was complete on all points. Leibnitz
-does not appear to have been acquainted with the method of fluxions
-at the time of his own discovery, but there is now no doubt of Newton’s
-having preceded him by some years; and the attacks made on the
-tendency of Newton’s discoveries have long been remembered only as
-disgracing their author. But such discussions had always been distasteful
-to Newton, and this controversy, which was conducted with
-great rancour by his opponents and some of his supporters, embittered
-his later years.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>The same fate awaited him in another instance. His system of
-Chronology had been long conceived, but he had not communicated it
-to any one until he explained it to the Princess of Wales. At her
-desire, he afterwards, in 1718, drew up a short abstract of it for her
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_87'>87</span>use, and sent it to her on condition that no one else should see it. She
-afterwards requested that the Abbé Conti might have a copy of it, and
-Newton complied, but still on the terms that it should not be farther
-divulged. Conti, however, showed the manuscript at Paris to Freret,
-who, without the author’s permission, translated and published it
-with observations in opposition to its doctrines. Newton drew up a
-reply which was printed in the Philosophical Transactions for 1725,
-and this was the signal for a new attack by Souciet. Newton was
-then roused to his last great exertion, that of fully digesting his
-system; which as yet existed only in confused papers, and preparing
-it for the press. He did not live to complete his task, but the work
-was left in a state of great forwardness, and was published in 1728 by
-Mr. Conduitt. Its value is well known. As a refutation of the
-systems of chronology then received, it is almost demonstrative; and
-the affirmative conclusions, if not always minutely correct, or even
-generally satisfactory, are yet among the most valuable contributions
-which science has made to history.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>With the exception of the attack of 1693, Newton’s health had
-usually been very good. But he suffered much from stone during the
-last few years of his life. His mental faculties remained in general
-unaffected, but his memory was much impaired. From the year 1725
-he lived at Kensington, but was still fond of going occasionally to
-London, and visited it on February 28th, 1727, to preside at a meeting
-of the Royal Society. The fatigue appears to have been too great:
-for the disease attacked him violently on the 4th of March, and he
-lingered till the 20th, when he died. His sufferings were severe, but
-his temper was never soured, nor the benevolence of his nature obscured.
-Indeed his moral was not less admirable than his intellectual
-character, and it was guided and supported by that religion, which he
-had studied not from speculative curiosity, but with the serious application
-of a mind habitually occupied with its duties, and earnestly
-desirous of its advancement.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Newton died without a will, and his property descended to Mrs.
-Conduitt and his other relations in the same degree. He was buried
-with great pomp in Westminster Abbey, where there is a monument
-to his memory, erected by his relations. His Chronology appeared, as
-has been already mentioned, almost immediately after his death; and
-the <span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Lectiones Opticæ</span>, the substance of his lectures at Cambridge in
-the years 1669, 1670, and 1671, were published from his manuscripts
-in 1729. In 1733, Mr. Benjamin Smith, one of the descendants of
-his mother’s second marriage, published the Observations on the Prophecies.
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_88'>88</span>These, in addition to the works already mentioned, are
-Newton’s principal writings; there are, however, several smaller
-tracts, some of which appeared during his lifetime, and some after his
-death, which it is not necessary here to specify. They would have
-conferred much honour on most philosophers;—they are hardly remembered
-in reckoning up Newton’s titles to fame.</p>
-
-<div  class='figcenter id004'>
-<img src='images/i_088.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' />
-<div class='ic001'>
-<p>Roubiliac’s Statue from the Chapel of Trinity College.</p>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class='c000'>Many portraits of Newton are in existence. The Royal Society
-possesses two; and Lord Egremont is the owner of one, which is
-engraved as the frontispiece to Dr. Brewster’s Life of Newton.
-Trinity College, Cambridge, abounds in memorials of its greatest ornament.
-Almost every room dedicated to public purposes possesses a
-picture of him, and the chapel is adorned by Roubiliac’s noble statue.
-The library also has a bust by the same artist, of perhaps even superior
-excellence. As works of art these are far superior to any of the paintings
-extant: but they have not the claim to authenticity possessed by
-the contemporary portraits. It is remarkable, that until the recent
-publication of Dr. Brewster’s life, no one had thought it worth while
-to devote an entire work to the history of so remarkable a man as
-Newton. There is, however, an elaborate memoir of him, written by
-M. Biot, in the Biographie Universelle, which has been republished
-in the Library of Useful Knowledge.</p>
-
-<div  class='figcenter id001'>
-<img src='images/i_089fp.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' />
-<div class='ic001'>
-<p><em>Engraved by R. Woodman.</em><br /><br />MICHAEL ANGELO BUONAROTI.<br /><br /><em>From a Picture by V. Campil, in the possession of the Right Hon. Lord Dover.</em><br /><br />Under the Superintendance of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge.<br /><br /><em>London. Published by Charles Knight, Pall Mall East.</em></p>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<div  class='figcenter id002'>
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_89'>89</span>
-<img src='images/i_089.jpg' alt='MICHAEL ANGELO.' class='ig001' />
-</div>
-
-<div class='chapter'>
-  <h2 class='c006'>MICHAEL ANGELO</h2>
-</div>
-
-<p class='c011'>Michael Angelo Buonaroti was born at the castle of Caprese in
-Tuscany, on March 6, 1474–5. He was descended from a noble,
-though not a wealthy family; and his father endeavoured to check the
-fondness for drawing which he showed at an early age, lest he should
-disgrace his parentage by following what was then deemed little
-better than a mechanical employment. Fortunately for the arts, the
-bent of the son’s genius was too decided to be foiled by the parent’s
-pride; and in April, 1488, young Buonaroti was placed under the
-tuition of Ghirlandaio, then the most eminent painter in Italy.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>He soon distinguished himself above his fellow pupils, and was
-fortunate in attracting the notice of Lorenzo de Medici; but the early
-death of his patron, and the troubles which ensued in Florence, clouded
-the brilliant prospects which seemed open to him. He first visited
-Rome when about twenty-two years old, at the invitation of Cardinal
-St. Giorgio; and resided in that city for a year, without being
-employed to execute anything for his pretended patron. He obtained
-three commissions, however, from other quarters; one for a Cupid,
-a second for a statue of Bacchus, a third for a Virgin and dead Christ,
-which forms the altar-piece of a chapel in St. Peter’s. The latter
-work was the most important, and established his character as one
-of the first sculptors of the day.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Returning to Florence soon after the appointment of Sodarini to be
-perpetual Gonfaloniere, or standard-bearer, an office equivalent to that
-of president of the republic, he found ampler room for the development
-of his talents in the favour of the chief magistrate; for whom he
-executed the celebrated statue of David, in marble, placed in front of
-the Palazzo Vecchio; and another statue of David, and a group of
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_90'>90</span>David and Goliath, both in bronze. To this period we are also to refer
-an oil picture of a Holy Family, painted for Angelo Doni, and now in
-the Florence gallery; the only oil painting which can be authenticated
-as proceeding from his hand.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>The accounts of Michael Angelo’s early life relate so exclusively to
-his skill and practice as a sculptor, that some wonder may be felt as
-to the means by which he acquired the technical science and dexterity
-necessary to the painter. But it was in composition, and as a
-draughtsman that he excelled, not as a colourist; and the same intimate
-knowledge of the human figure, and freedom and boldness of
-hand, which guided his chisel, often, it is said, without a model, will
-account for the anatomical excellence and energy of his drawings.
-Nevertheless it is surprising to find him at this early age rivalling, and
-indeed by general suffrage excelling in his own art Leonardo da Vinci,
-not only the first painter of his generation, but one of the most accomplished
-persons of his age. The work to which we allude, the celebrated
-Cartoon of Pisa, painted as a companion to a battle-piece of
-Leonardo, has long disappeared; and is generally supposed to have been
-destroyed clandestinely by Baccio Bandinelli, a rival artist, of whose
-envious and cowardly temper some amusing anecdotes are related in
-Benvenuto Cellini’s autobiography. It represented a party of Florentine
-soldiers, disturbed, while bathing in the Arno, by a sudden call
-to arms. Only one copy of it is said to exist, which is preserved
-in Mr. Coke’s collection at Holkham.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>When Julius II. ascended the papal chair, he invited Michael
-Angelo to Rome, and commissioned him to erect a splendid tomb.
-The original design, a sketch of which may be seen in Bottari’s
-edition of Vasari, was for an insulated building, thirty-four feet six
-inches by twenty-three feet, ornamented with forty statues, many of
-colossal size, and a vast number of bronze and marble columns, basso-relievos,
-and every species of architectural decoration of the richest
-sort. This commission, upon the due execution of which Michael
-Angelo set his heart, as a worthy opportunity of immortalizing his
-name, was destined to involve him in a long train of vexations.
-During the life of Julius, the attention which he wished to concentrate
-on this one great work was distracted by a variety of other employments
-forced on him by his patron. Upon his death, it was resolved
-to finish it on a smaller scale: but its progress was then more seriously
-interrupted by the eagerness of successive Popes to employ the
-great artist on works which should immortalize their own names as
-liberal patrons of the arts. Ultimately, after much dissatisfaction and
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_91'>91</span>dispute on the part of Pope Julius’s heirs, the form of the monument
-was altered; and as it now stands in the church of St. Pietro in
-Vinculis, it consists only of a façade, ornamented by seven statues,
-three of which are from the hand of Michael Angelo, the others are
-by inferior artists. The central figure is the celebrated Moses,
-by many considered the finest modern work of sculpture; and this is
-the only part of the original composition.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>During the same pontificate, Michael Angelo painted the ceiling of
-the Sistine chapel. The employment was not to his taste; but it was
-forced upon him by Pope Julius. He had never tried his powers in
-fresco painting; and that branch of the art, as is well known, involves
-many difficulties, which, though merely mechanical, it requires some
-practice and experience to surmount. Having first completed the
-design in a series of cartoons, he sent to Florence to engage the ablest
-assistants to be found: but their labours were unsatisfactory, and
-dismissing them, he set to work himself, and executed the whole
-vault with his own hands, in the short space of twenty months.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Julius II. died in 1513. The next nine years, comprehending the
-pontificate of Leo X., are an entire blank in Michael Angelo’s life, so
-far as regards the practice of his art. He was employed the whole
-time, by the Pope’s express order, in superintending some new marble
-quarries in the mountains of Tuscany.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>During the pontificate of Adrian VI. he resided at Florence, where
-Giuliano de Medici, afterwards Clement VII., employed him to build
-a new library and sacristy to the church of St. Lorenzo, and a sepulchral
-chapel, to serve as a mausoleum for the ducal family. He was
-also employed to execute two monuments in honour of Giuliano,
-the brother, and Lorenzo de Medici, the nephew, of Leo X. The
-princes are represented seated, in the Roman military habit, above two
-sarcophagi. Below are two recumbent figures to each monument, one
-pair representing Morning and Evening; the other, Day and Night.
-The reason for this singular choice of personages is not explained.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>We cannot enter upon the maze of Italian politics, which led to
-the siege of Florence by the imperial troops in 1529–30. Michael
-Angelo’s well-known and varied talent led to his being appointed chief
-engineer and master of the ordnance to the city; in which capacity he
-gained new honour by his skill, resolution, and patriotism. During
-this turbulent time he began a picture of Leda, which was sent to
-France, and fell into the possession of Francis I. It has long been
-lost; the original cartoon is in the collection of the Royal Academy.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Michael Angelo’s second work in fresco, the Last Judgment,
-occupying the east end of the Sistine chapel, seems to have been
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_92'>92</span>begun in 1533 or 1534. It was not finished till 1541. His last and
-only other works of this kind were two large pictures in the Pauline
-chapel, representing the Martyrdom of St. Peter, and the Conversion
-of St. Paul. These were not completed till he had reached the
-advanced age of seventy-five.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>In 1546 died Antonio da San Gallo, the third architect employed in
-the rebuilding of St. Peter’s. The project of renewing the metropolitan
-church of Rome was first suggested to the ambitious mind of Pope
-Julius II. by the impossibility of finding any place in the then existing
-cathedral, worthy of the splendid monument which he had ordered
-Michael Angelo to execute. Bramante, Raphael, and San Gallo,
-were successively appointed to conduct the mighty undertaking, and
-removed by death. San Gallo had deviated materially from the design
-of Bramante. Michael Angelo disapproved of his alterations; but
-was deterred from returning to the original plan by its vast extent,
-and the necessity of contracting the extent of the work so as to meet
-the impoverished state of the Papal treasury, produced by the spreading
-of the Reformation in Germany and England. He accordingly gave
-in the design from which the present building was erected, which,
-gigantic as it is, falls short of the dimensions of that which Julius
-proposed to raise. Having now reached the advanced age of seventy-one,
-it was with reluctance that he undertook so heavy a charge.
-It was, indeed, only by the absolute command of the Pope that he
-was induced to do so; and on the unusual condition that he should
-receive no salary, as he accepted the office purely from devotional
-feelings. He also made it a condition that he should be absolutely
-empowered to discharge any persons employed in the works, and to
-supply their places at his pleasure.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>To the independent and upright feelings which led him to insist on
-this latter clause, the factious opposition, which harassed the remainder
-of his life, is partly to be ascribed. Disinterested himself, he suffered
-no peculation under his administration; and he was repaid by the
-hatred of a powerful party connected with those whose vanity his
-appointment wounded, or whose interests his honesty crossed. Repeated
-attempts were made to procure his removal, to which he would
-willingly have yielded, but for a due sense of the greatness of the work
-which he had undertaken, and reluctance to quit it, until too far
-advanced to be altered and spoiled by some inferior hand. This praiseworthy
-solicitude was not disappointed. During the life of Paul, and
-through four succeeding pontificates, he held the situation of chief architect;
-and before his death, in February, 1563–4, the cupola was raised,
-and the principal features of the building unalterably determined.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_93'>93</span>His earlier architectural works are to be seen at Florence. They
-consist of the façade and sacristy of the church of St. Lorenzo, left
-unfinished by Brunelleschi, the mausoleum of the Medici family, and
-the Laurentian library. During the latter part of his life he amused his
-leisure hours by working on a group representing a dead Christ, supported
-by the Virgin and Nicodemus, which he intended for an altar-piece
-to the chapel in which he should himself be interred. It was
-never finished, however, and is now in the cathedral of Florence.
-But, from the time of his assuming the charge of St. Peter’s, his
-attention was almost entirely devoted to architecture. His chief works
-were the completion of the Farnese palace, begun by San Gallo; the
-palace of the Senator of Rome, the picture galleries, and flight of
-steps leading up to the convent of Araceli, all situated on the Capitoline
-hill; and the conversion of the baths of Diocletian into the
-church of S. Maria degli Angeli.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Michael Angelo, though he painted few pictures himself, frequently
-gave designs to be executed by his favourite pupils, especially Sebastiano
-del Piombo. Such was the origin of the magnificent Raising
-of Lazarus, in the National Gallery. Like many artists of that
-age, he aspired to be a poet. His works consist chiefly of sonnets,
-modelled on the style of Petrarch. Religion and Love are the prevailing
-subjects.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>The Life of Michael Angelo, by Mr. Duppa, will gratify the curiosity
-of the English reader, who wishes to pursue the subject beyond
-this mere list of the artist’s principal works. To the Italian reader
-we may recommend the lives of Condivi and Vasari, as containing
-the original information from which subsequent writers have drawn
-their accounts. To do justice to the versatile, yet profound genius of
-this great man, is a task which we must leave to such writers as
-Reynolds and Fuseli, in whose lectures the reader will find ample
-evidence of the profound admiration with which they regarded him.
-Nor can we conclude better than with the short but energetic character
-given by the latter, of his favourite artist’s style of genius, and
-of his principal works:—</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>“Sublimity of conception, grandeur of form, and breadth of manner,
-are the elements of Michael Angelo’s style. By these principles he
-selected or rejected the objects of imitation. As painter, as sculptor,
-as architect, he attempted, and above any other man, succeeded, to
-unite magnificence of plan, and endless variety of subordinate parts,
-with the utmost simplicity and breadth. His line is uniformly grand:
-character and beauty were admitted only as far as they could be made
-subservient to grandeur. To give the appearance of perfect ease to the
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_94'>94</span>most perplexing difficulty, was the exclusive power of Michael Angelo.
-He is the inventor of epic painting, in that sublime circle of the Sistine
-chapel which exhibits the origin, the progress, and the final dispensations
-of theocracy. He has personified motion in the groups of the
-Cartoon of Pisa; embodied sentiment on the monuments of S. Lorenzo;
-unravelled the features of meditation in the Prophets and Sibyls of the
-Sistine chapel; and in the Last Judgment, with every attitude that
-varies the human body, traced the master-trait of every passion that
-sways the human heart. Though, as sculptor, he expressed the character
-of flesh more perfectly than all who came before or went after him, yet
-he never submitted to copy an individual, Julius II. only excepted; and
-in him he represented the reigning passion rather than the man. In
-painting he has contented himself with a negative colour, and as the
-painter of mankind, rejected all meretricious ornament. The fabric of
-St. Peter’s, scattered into infinity of jarring parts by Bramante and his
-successors, he concentrated; suspended the cupola, and to the most
-complex gave the air of the most simple of edifices. Such, take him for
-all in all, was M. Angelo, the salt of art: sometimes he no doubt had
-his moments of dereliction, deviated into manner, or perplexed the
-grandeur of his forms with futile and ostentatious anatomy: both met
-with armies of copyists; and it has been his fate to be censured for
-their folly.”—(Lecture II.)</p>
-
-<div  class='figcenter id004'>
-<img src='images/i_094.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' />
-<div class='ic001'>
-<p>JACKSON<br /><br />From the Monument of Giuliano de Medici.</p>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<div  class='figcenter id001'>
-<img src='images/i_095fp.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' />
-<div class='ic001'>
-<p><em>Engraved by J. Posselwhite.</em><br /><br />MOLIERE.<br /><br /><em>From the original Picture of Lebrun’s School, in the collection of the <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Musée Royale</span>. Paris.</em><br /><br />Under the Superintendance of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge.<br /><br /><em>London. Published by Charles Knight, Pall Mall East.</em></p>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<div  class='figcenter id002'>
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_95'>95</span>
-<img src='images/i_095.jpg' alt='MOLIERE' class='ig001' />
-</div>
-
-<div class='chapter'>
-  <h2 class='c006'>MOLIERE</h2>
-</div>
-
-<p class='c011'>Moliere, the contemporary of Corneille and Racine, whose original
-and real name was Jean Baptiste Poquelin, was born at Paris on the
-15th January, 1622. His father and mother were both in trade; and
-they brought up their son to their own occupation. At the age of
-fourteen, young Poquelin could neither read, write, nor cast accounts.
-But the grandfather was very fond of him; and being himself a
-great lover of plays, often took his favourite to the theatre. The
-natural genius of the boy was, by this initiation, kindled into a
-decided taste for dramatic entertainments: a disgust to trade was
-the consequence, and a desire of that mental cultivation from which
-he had hitherto been debarred. His father consented at length to
-his becoming a pupil of the Jesuits at the College of Clermont. He
-remained there five years, and was fortunate enough to be the class-fellow
-of Armand de Bourbon, Prince de Conti, whose friendship and
-protection proved of signal service to him in after-life. He studied
-under the celebrated Gassendi, who was so impressed by the apparent
-aptitude of young Poquelin to receive instruction, that he admitted
-him to the private lectures given to his other pupils. Gassendi
-was in the habit of breaking a lance with two great rivals: Aristotle,
-at the head of ancient, and Descartes, then at the head of modern
-philosophy. By witnessing this combat, Poquelin acquired a habit
-of independent reasoning, sound principles, extensive knowledge, and
-that feeling of practical good sense, which was so conspicuous not
-only in his most laboured, but even in his lightest productions.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>His studies under Gassendi were abruptly terminated by the following
-circumstance. His father was attached to the court in the double
-capacity of valet-de-chambre and tapestry-maker; and the son had
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_96'>96</span>the reversion of these places. When Louis XIII. went to Narbonne in
-1641, the old man was ill, and the young one was obliged to officiate
-for him. On his return to Paris, his passion for the stage, which had
-first led him into the paths of literature, revived with renewed strength.
-The taste of Cardinal de Richelieu for theatrical performances was
-communicated to the nation at large, and a peculiar protection was
-granted to dramatic poets. Many little societies were formed for
-acting plays in private houses, for the amusement at least of the performers.
-Poquelin collected a company of young stage-stricken heroes,
-who so far exceeded all their rivals, as to earn for their establishment
-the pompous title of The Illustrious Theatre. He now determined to
-make the stage his profession, and changing his name, according to
-the usage in such cases, adopted that of Moliere.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>He disappears during the time of the civil wars, from 1648 to
-1652; but we may suppose the interval to have been passed in composing
-some of those pieces which were afterwards brought before the
-public. When the disturbances ceased, Moliere, in partnership with
-an actress of Champagne, named La Béjard, formed a strolling
-company; and his first regular piece, called L’Etourdi, or the
-Blunderer, was performed at Lyons in 1653. Another company of
-comedians settled in that town was deserted by the spectators in
-favour of these clever vagabonds; and the principal performers of the
-regular establishment took the hint, pocketed their dignity, and joined
-Moliere. The united company transferred itself to Languedoc, and
-were retained in the service of the Prince of Conti. During the
-Carnival of 1658, the troop, having resumed their vagrant life, were
-playing at Grenoble. The following summer was passed at Rouen.
-When so near Paris, Moliere made occasional journeys thither, with
-the earnest hope of bettering his fortune in the metropolis, where the
-market for talent is always brisk and open, the competition, though
-severe, fair and encouraging. Once more he received protection from
-his august fellow-collegian, who introduced him to Monsieur, and
-ultimately to the King himself. The company appeared before their
-Majesties and the court for the first time, on the 3d of November,
-1658, on a stage erected in the Hall of the Guards in the Old Louvre.
-Their success was so complete that the King gave orders for their
-permanent settlement in Paris, and they were allowed to act alternately
-with the Italian players in the Hall of the Petit Bourbon. In 1663
-a pension of a thousand livres was granted to Moliere, and in 1665 his
-company was taken altogether into the King’s service.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>As in the course of about fifteen years he produced more than
-double that number of dramatic pieces, instead of giving, within our
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_97'>97</span>narrow limits, a mere dry catalogue of titles, we shall make some
-more detailed remarks on a few of those masterpieces, in different
-styles, which not only raised the character of French comedy to a
-great height in France itself, but in a great measure furnished the
-staple to some of our own most distinguished writers.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Among many persons of taste and judgment, the Misantrope has
-borne the character of being the most finished of all Moliere’s pieces;
-of combining the most powerful efforts of united genius and art. The
-subject is single, and the unities are exactly observed. The principal
-person of the drama is strongly conceived, and brought out with the
-boldest strokes of the master’s pencil: it is throughout uniform, and in
-strict keeping. The subordinate persons are equally well drawn, and
-fitted for their business in the scene, so as to throw an artist-like light
-upon the chief figure. The scenes and incidents are so contrived and
-conducted as to diversify the main character, and set it in various
-points of view. The sentiments are strong and nervous as well as
-proper; and the good sense with which the piece is fraught, proves
-that the bustle and dissipation of the court and the theatre had not
-obliterated the lessons of the college, or the lectures of Gassendi. The
-title of the play will at once bring to the mind of an Englishman
-our own Timon of Athens; but there are scarcely any other points of
-resemblance. The ancient and the modern Man-hater had little in
-common: the Athenian was the victim of personal ill-treatment;
-having suffered by excess of good-nature and credulity, he runs into
-the other extreme of suspicion and revenge. Moliere’s Man-hater owes
-his character to the severity of virtue, which can give no quarter to
-the vices of mankind; to that sincerity which disdains indiscriminate
-complaisance, and the prostitution of the language of friendship to the
-flattery of fools and knaves. Wycherley, in his Plain Dealer, has
-given the French Misantrope an English dress. Manly is a character
-of humour, speaking and acting from a peculiar bias of temper and
-inclination; but the coarseness of the <em>plain dealing</em> is not to be
-tolerated, and what Manly <em>does</em> goes near to counteract the moral
-effect of what he <em>says</em>.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>By way of contrasting the various talents of the author, than whom
-none better understood human nature in its various ramifications, or
-copied more skilfully every shade and gradation of manners, we may
-just mention the Bourgeois Gentilhomme, exhibiting the folly and
-affectation of a cit turned man of fashion. If the moral of the Misantrope
-be pure, the wit of the Bourgeois is terse and diverting.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>In several of his comedies he has treated medicine and its professors
-not only with freedom but severity; it was, however, perverted medicine
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_98'>98</span>only, and its quack professors that were the subjects of his ridicule.
-The respectable members of the faculty could be no more affected by
-the satire, nor displeased by what they could not fear, than a true
-prophet by the punishment of imposture. Those who are acquainted
-with the history of the science will recollect the state of it at Paris in
-Moliere’s time, and the character of the physicians. Their whole
-employment was confined to searching after visionary specifics, and
-experimental trickery in chemistry. The cause of a disease was never
-inquired after, nor the symptoms regarded; but hypothetical jargon
-and random prescription were thrown like dust into the eyes of the
-patient, to the exclusion of a practice founded on science and observation.
-Thus medicine became a pest instead of a remedy; and this
-state of things justified the chastisement inflicted.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Les Précieuses Ridicules</span> is a comedy intended to reprove a vain,
-fantastical, and preposterous humour prevailing very much about that
-time in France. It had the desired effect, and conduced materially
-towards rooting out a taste in manners so unreasonable and ridiculous.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Tartuffe, or The Impostor, has occasionally, and even recently,
-sometimes to the disturbance of the public peace in France, given
-great offence not only to those who felt the justice, and winced under
-the severity of the satire; but to others, who suspected that a blow was
-aimed at religion, under the mask of an attack upon hypocrisy. But its
-intrinsic merit, the truth of the drawing, and the justness of the colouring,
-have secured patrons for it among persons of unquestionable sense,
-virtue, learning, and taste; and it has always triumphed over the
-violence of opposition. Cibber, a vamper of other men’s plays, has
-borrowed from it his favourite Nonjuror, and applied it to the purposes
-of a political party. On this adaptation has been grafted a more modern
-attack on the Methodists, under the title of The Hypocrite. But
-however great may be the merit of this celebrated drama, it cannot boast
-of entire originality. Machiavelli left behind him three comedies,
-the fruits of a statesman’s leisure hours. In all three, the author has
-exhibited the hand of a master; he has painted mankind in the spirit
-of truth, and unmasked falsehood and hypocrisy in a tone of profound
-contempt. Two monks, a brother Timothy and a brother Alberico,
-are represented with too much wit and keenness of sarcasm to have
-been overlooked by Moliere in his working up of the third specimen.
-The first three acts of the Tartuffe were played for the first time at
-court before the piece was finished. Masques of pomp, magnificence
-and panegyric, such as usually furnish out the amusement of royal
-saloons, are forgotten as soon as they have served the purpose of the
-moment: but masterpieces like that now in question perpetuate their
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_99'>99</span>own renown, and leave a lasting memorial of what is supposed to be a
-phenomenon, a princely taste for genuine wit.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Les Fâcheux</span> was the first piece in which dancing was so connected
-with the dramatic action, as to fill up the intervals without breaking
-the thread of the story.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Le Mariage Forcé</span> was borrowed from Rabelais, to whom both
-Moliere and La Fontaine were deeply indebted. The Aristotelian and
-Pyrrhonian philosophy, as travestied by modern doctors, furnishes
-occasion for lively satire and clever buffoonery. The horror with
-which Pancrace calls down the vengeance of heaven on him who
-should dare to say the <em>form</em> of a hat, instead of the <em>figure</em> of a hat,
-is a pleasant parody on the unintelligible absurdities of the schools.
-According to Marphurius, philosophy commands us to suspend our
-judgment, and to speak of every thing with uncertainty; not to say
-<em>I am come</em>, but, <em>I think that I am come</em>.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">La Princesse d’Elide</span>, though not one of Moliere’s happiest efforts,
-deserves notice on account of its contributing to the festivities of the
-court, by an adaptation of ingenious allegories to the manners and
-events of the time. This satire was aimed at the illusion of Judicial
-Astrology, after which many princes of the period were running mad;
-and in particular Victor Amadeus, Duke of Savoy, father of the
-Duchess of Burgundy, who kept an astrologer about his person even
-after his abdication. The dramatic antiquary may find some amusement
-in comparing the fêtes of the French court with the masques of
-Ben Jonson, Davenant, and others, exhibited before our James I. and
-Charles I.; but here the interest ends. It is sufficient to remark, that
-the masques of the English court owed their power of pleasing to the
-ingenuity of the machinist and the flattery of the poet. The little
-dramas performed before the royal family of France tickled the ears
-of the audience by the pungency of their wit and ridicule.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>The Miser has been pretty closely translated, for the version is
-little more, by Henry Fielding; but not so happily as he himself seems
-to have imagined.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>The subject of that excellent comedy, <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Les Femmes Savantes</span>, in
-which the ridicule is kept within reasonable bounds, and female faults
-and virtues are painted with a proper gradation of colouring, where
-what the painters call a <em>medium tint</em> harmonizes the extremes of light
-and shade, was taken up by Goldoni with that coarse and abrupt
-pencilling of black and white, which has always been the vice of the
-Italian stage. It has indeed been advanced as a reproach to Moliere,
-that he too often charged his comic pictures with the extravagance of
-caricature: but if we compare even the most farcical of his scenes
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_100'>100</span>with the speaking pantomimes and half-improvisations of Italy, we
-must pronounce him a model of delicacy and classical propriety.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>His last comedy was <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Le Malade Imaginaire</span>. It was acted for
-the fourth time on the 17th February, 1673. The principal character
-represented is that of a sick man, who, to carry on a purpose
-of the plot, pretends to be dead. This part was played by Moliere
-himself. The popular story was, that when he was to discover
-that it was only a feint, he could neither speak nor get up, being
-actually dead. The wits and epigrammatists made the most of
-the occurrence; those who could not write good French, treated
-it with bad Latin. But unluckily for the stability of their conceits,
-they were not built on the foundation of truth. Though very ill, and
-obviously in much pain, he was able to finish the play. He went
-home, and was put to bed: his cough increased violently; a vessel
-burst in his lungs, and he was suffocated with blood in about half
-an hour after. He was only in his fifty-second year when this event
-took place. The King was extremely affected at this sudden loss,
-by which, as Johnson said of Garrick, the gaiety of nations was
-eclipsed; and as a strong mark of his regard, he prevailed with the
-archbishop of Paris to allow of his being interred in consecrated
-ground. Nothing short of so absolute a King’s interposition could
-have effected this; for, independently of the general sentence of
-excommunication then in force against scenic performers, Moliere had
-drawn upon himself the resentment of the ecclesiastics in particular,
-by exposing the hypocrites of their cloth, as well as the bigots among
-the laity. Those who ridicule folly and knavery in all orders of men
-must expect to be treated as Moliere was, and to have the foolish and
-knavish of all orders for enemies. During his life, Paris and the court
-were stirred up and inflamed against the dramatist; and on more than
-one occasion, he must have fallen a sacrifice to the indignation of
-the clergy, had he not been protected by the King. The friend of
-his life did not desert him when he was dead; but procured for his
-insensible remains that decent respect, which all nations have consented
-to pay, as a tribute even to themselves.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Voltaire characterizes Moliere as the best comic poet of any nation;
-and treats the posthumous hostility which made a difficulty about his
-burial as a reproach both to France and to the Catholic religion.
-Professing to have reperused the comedians of antiquity for the
-purpose of comparison, he gives it as his judgment, that the French
-dramatist is entitled to the preference. He grounds this decision on
-the art and regularity of the modern theatre, contrasted with the
-unconnected scenes of the ancients, their weak intrigues, and the
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_101'>101</span>strange practice of declaring by the mouths of the actors, in cold and
-unnatural monologues, what they had done and what they intended to
-do. He concludes by saying that Moliere did for comedy what Corneille
-had done for tragedy; and that the French were superior on
-this ground to all the people upon earth. A country possessing such
-a comic drama as ours, throughout the course of about two centuries,
-with Much ado about Nothing at one end of the list, and The School
-for Scandal at the other, will be inclined to demur to this broad
-national assumption: but we, in our turn, must in candour confess,
-that though the chronological precedence of Shakspeare, Jonson,
-Fletcher, Massinger, and Ford, had established a glorious stage for us
-before Moliere was born, or while he was yet in petticoats; yet our
-most eminent comic writers in the reigns of William III., Anne, and
-George I., drank deep and often from the abundant source of French
-comedy. But Moliere’s influence was most beneficially exerted in
-reclaiming his countrymen from a fondness for such Italian conceits
-as ringing the changes upon <em>odours</em> and <em>ardours</em>, &amp;c., to which authors
-like Scudery, Voiture, and Balzac had given an ephemeral fashion.
-Boileau and Moliere principally contributed to arm the French against
-the invasion from beyond the Alps, of such madrigal-writers as Marini,
-Achillini, and Préti.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>It is not true that Moliere, when he commenced his career, found
-the theatre absolutely destitute of good comedies. Corneille had
-already produced Le Menteur, a piece combining character with intrigue,
-imported from the Spanish stage. Moliere had produced only
-two of his most esteemed plays, when the public was gratified with <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">La
-Mère Coquette</span> of Quinault, than which few pieces were more happy
-either in point of character or intrigue. But if Corneille be the first
-legitimate model for tragedy, Moliere was so for comedy. The general
-shaping of his plots, the connexion of his scenes, his dramatic consistency
-and propriety were attempted to be copied by succeeding
-writers: but who could compete with him in wit and spirit? His
-well-directed attacks did more than any thing to rescue the public from
-the impertinence of subaltern courtiers affecting airs of importance;
-from the affectation of conceited, and the pedantry of learned, ladies;
-from the quackery of professional costume and barbarous Latin on the
-part of the medical tribe. Moliere was the legislator of conventional
-proprieties. That period might well be called the Augustan age of
-France, which saw the tragedies of Corneille and Racine; the comedies
-of Moliere; the birth of modern music in the symphonies of Lulli;
-the pulpit eloquence of Bossuet and Bourdaloüe. Louis XIV. was
-the hearer and the patron of all these; and his taste was duly appreciated
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_102'>102</span>and adopted by the accomplished Madame, by a Condé, a
-Turenne, and a Colbert, followed by a long train of eminent men in
-every department of the state and of society.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Little has come down to us respecting Moliere’s personal history or
-habits, excepting that his marriage was not among the happy or
-creditable events of his life. So little did he in his own case weigh
-the evils of disproportioned age, however sarcastically he might
-imagine them in fictitious scenes, that he took for his partner the
-daughter of La Béjard, the associate of his strolling career. If his
-choice were a fault, it carried its punishment along with it. He
-was very jealous, and the young lady was an accomplished coquette.
-The bickerings of married life were the frequent and successful
-topics of his comedies; and his enemies asserted, that in drawing such
-scenes, he possessed the advantage of painting from the life. Of that
-ridicule which had so often set the theatre in a roar, he was himself
-the serious subject, the repentant and writhing victim.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Fuller accounts of Moliere are to be found prefixed to the best
-editions of his works: we may mention those of Joly, Petitot, and
-Auger. An article of considerable length, by the last-named author,
-is devoted to our poet in the Biographie Universelle.</p>
-
-<div  class='figcenter id001'>
-<img src='images/i_102.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' />
-<div class='ic001'>
-<p>Scene from <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Les Précieuses Ridicules</span>.</p>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<div  class='figcenter id001'>
-<img src='images/i_103fp.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' />
-<div class='ic001'>
-<p><em>Engraved by I. W. Cook.</em><br /><br />CHARLES JAMES FOX.<br /><br /><em>From a Picture by Sir Joshua Reynolds in the possession of Lord Holland.</em><br /><br />Under the Superintendance of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge.<br /><br /><em>London. Published by Charles Knight, Pall Mall East.</em></p>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<div  class='figcenter id002'>
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_103'>103</span>
-<img src='images/i_103.jpg' alt='FOX' class='ig001' />
-</div>
-
-<div class='chapter'>
-  <h2 class='c006'>FOX</h2>
-</div>
-
-<p class='c011'>The Right Honourable Charles James Fox was third son of the
-Right Honourable Henry Fox, afterwards Lord Holland, and of Lady
-Georgina Caroline Fox, eldest daughter of Charles, second Duke of
-Richmond. He was born January 24th, 1749, N. S.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Mr. Fox received his education at Eton; and the favourite studies
-of the place had more than ordinary influence over his tastes and
-literary pursuits in after-life. Before he left school, his father was so
-imprudent as to carry him to Paris and Spa. To his early associations
-at the latter place may be ascribed that propensity to gaming, which
-was the bane of two-thirds of his life. As the present article is not
-designed to be a mere panegyric, we abandon the indulgence of
-this fatal passion to the severest censure that can be bestowed upon it
-by the philosopher and the moralist: but justice demands it at our
-hands to say, that after the adjustment of Mr. Fox’s affairs by his
-friends, personal and political, he resolutely conquered what habit had
-almost raised into second nature, and abstained from play with scrupulous
-fidelity. It may further be remarked, that while the paroxysms
-of the fever were most violent, his mind was never interrupted from
-more worthy objects of pursuit.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>The following anecdote will show the divided empire which discordant
-passions alternately usurped over his heart. On a night when
-he had sustained some serious losses, his deportment assumed so much
-of the character of despair, that his friends became uneasy: they followed
-him at distance enough to elude his observation, from the clubhouse
-to his home in the neighbourhood. They knocked at his door
-in time, as they thought, to have prevented any rash act, and rushed
-into the library. There they found the object of their anxiety stretched
-on the ground without his coat, before the fire: his hand neither grasping
-a razor nor a pistol, but his eyes intently fixed on the pages of
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_104'>104</span>Herodotus. The old historian had engrossed him wholly from the
-moment when he took up the volume, and the ruins of his own air-built
-castles vanished from before him, as soon as he got sight of the
-venerable remains of the ancient world.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>At Oxford Mr. Fox distinguished himself by his powers of application,
-as well as by the intuitive quickness of his parts. On quitting
-the university, he accompanied his father and mother to the south of
-Europe. Not finding a good Italian master at Naples, he taught himself
-that language during the winter, and contracted a strong partiality
-for Italian literature. In a letter from Florence to Mr. Fitz-Patrick,
-he conjures that gentleman to learn Italian as fast as he can, if it
-were only to read Ariosto; and adds, “There is more good poetry in
-Italian than in all other languages I understand put together.” At a
-later period of life, if we may judge from the tenor of his correspondence
-with eminent scholars, he would have transferred that praise
-from the Italian to the Greek tongue. At this time he was very fond
-of acting plays, and was in all respects the man of fashion. Those
-who recollect the simplicity, bordering on negligence, of his outward
-garb late in life, will smile at the idea of Mr. Fox with a powdered
-toupee and red heels to his shoes, the hero of private theatricals.
-During his absence, in 1768, he was chosen to represent Midhurst,
-and made his first speech on the 15th April, 1769. According to
-Horace Walpole, he spoke with violence, but with infinite superiority
-of parts.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Circumscribed as we are as to space, we shall not follow Mr. Fox’s
-subaltern career in the House of Commons. It was his breach with
-Lord North that raised him into a party leader. He had previously
-formed an intimate acquaintance with Mr. Burke. He began by
-receiving the lessons of that eminent person as a pupil; but the master
-was soon so convinced of his scholar’s greatness of character, and
-statesman-like turn of mind, that he resigned the lead to him, and
-became an efficient coadjutor in the Rockingham party, of which,
-in the House of Commons, he had almost been the dictator. The
-American war roused all the energies of Mr. Fox’s mind. The discussions
-to which it gave rise involved all the first principles of free
-government. The vicissitudes of the contest tried the firmness of the
-parliamentary opposition. Its duration exercised their perseverance.
-Its magnitude and the dangers of the country called forth their powers.
-Gibbon says, “Mr. Fox discovered powers for regular debate, which
-neither his friends hoped nor his enemies dreaded.” The following
-passage, from a letter to Mr. Fitz-Patrick, written in 1778, illustrates
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_105'>105</span>his honourable and independent character: “People flatter me that I
-continue to gain rather than lose estimation as an orator; and I am so
-convinced this is all I ever shall gain (unless I choose to be one of the
-meanest of men), that I never think of any other object of ambition.
-I am certainly ambitious by nature, but I have, or think I have, totally
-subdued that passion. I have still as much vanity as ever, which is a
-happier passion by far, because great reputation, I think, I may acquire
-and keep; great situations I never can acquire, nor, if acquired, keep,
-without making sacrifices that I will never make.” In the summer
-of 1778, he rejected Lord Weymouth’s overtures to join the ministry,
-and took his station as the leading commoner in the Rockingham party,
-to which he had become attached on principle long before he enlisted
-permanently in its ranks. The conspicuous features of that party,
-and of Mr. Fox’s public character, were the love of peace with foreign
-powers, the spirit of conciliation in home management, an ardent
-attachment to civil and religious liberty.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>The day of triumph came at last, when a resolution against the
-further prosecution of the American war was carried in the Commons.
-The King was compelled, reluctantly, to part with the supporters
-of his favourite principles, and had nothing left but to sow the
-seeds of disunion between the Rockingham and Chatham or Shelburne
-party, united on the subject of America, but disagreeing on many other
-points both of external and internal policy. In this he was but too
-successful. We have neither space nor inclination to unravel the
-web of court intrigue; but we may remark that Lord Rockingham’s
-demands were too extensive to be palatable: they involved the
-independence of America, the pacification of Ireland, bills for economical
-and parliamentary reform, to be brought into Parliament as
-ministerial measures. But the untimely death of Lord Rockingham
-frustrated his enlightened and enlarged designs, by dissolving the
-ministry over which he had presided. Mr. Fox has been blamed for
-the precipitancy of his resignation. The tone of sentiment in a letter
-before quoted will both account and apologise for the rashness if it
-were such; and it is obvious that the sacrifice of personal feeling, or
-even of political consistency, could not long have deferred it, amidst
-the cabals and clashing interests of party. Mr. Fox’s policy was to
-detach Holland and America from France, and to form a continental
-balance against the House of Bourbon. Lord Shelburne’s system was
-to conciliate France, and to treat her allies as dependent powers.
-Lord Shelburne had the ear of the King. He strengthened himself
-with some of the old supporters of the American war, to fill the vacant
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_106'>106</span>offices, and made Mr. Pitt, just rising into eminence, his Chancellor
-of the Exchequer. There were now three parties in the Commons;
-the ministerial, the Whig or Rockingham, and the third consisting of
-those members of the late war ministry who had not been invited to
-join the present. A coalition of some two of these three parties was
-almost unavoidable: the public would have most approved of a reunion
-among the Whigs; but there had been too much of mutual recrimination
-and dispute to admit of reconciliation. Nothing, therefore,
-remained but a junction of the two parties in opposition. A judicious
-friend of Mr. Fox said, “that to undertake the government with Lord
-North, was to risk their credit on very unsafe grounds. Unless a real
-good government is the consequence of this junction, nothing can
-justify it to the public.” Popular feeling was strongly against this
-coalition, mainly on account of some personal acrimony vented by
-Mr. Fox, in the boiling over of his wrath during the American contest,
-which seemed to bear upon the moral character of his opponent. It
-is to be considered, however, that the most amiable persons, if enthusiastic,
-are apt in the heat of passion to launch out into invective far
-more violent than their natural benevolence would justify in their
-cooler moments. The question on which Mr. Fox and Lord North
-had been so acrimoniously opposed, had ceased to exist: and perhaps
-there existed no solid reason against the union of the two parties.
-But the measure was almost universally believed to arise from corrupt
-motives: it afforded a fine scope for satire and caricature; and these
-have no small influence upon the politics of the multitude. And while
-the people were displeased, the King was decidedly unfriendly to the
-administration which had forced itself upon him. He considered the
-Rockingham party as enemies to his prerogative, as well as friends to
-American independence. He was forced to take them in, but resolved
-to throw them out again. The unpopular India bill, which Mr. Pitt
-afterwards adopted with some modifications, furnished the opportunity.
-The offence taken by the people against the coalition, made them lend
-a ready ear to the charge of ministerial oligarchy: the King disguised
-his sentiments till the last moment, procured the rejection of the bill
-in the Lords, and instantly dismissed his ministers.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>The coalition was still in possession of the House of Commons; but
-the voice of the people supported the minister, a dissolution was resorted
-to, and the will of the King was accomplished.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>From 1784 to 1792, Mr. Fox was leader of a powerful party in
-the House of Commons, in opposition to Mr. Pitt. The Westminster
-Scrutiny, the Regency, the abatement of Impeachments by a dissolution
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_107'>107</span>of Parliament, the Libel Bill, the Russian Armament, and the Repeal
-of the Corporation and Test Acts, were the topics which called forth
-his most powerful exertions. His force as a professed orator was
-conspicuously displayed in Westminster Hall, on the trial of Warren
-Hastings; but the triumph of his talents is to be found in those
-masterly replies to his antagonists, in which cutting sarcasm and close
-argument, logical acuteness and metaphysical subtlety were so combined,
-as to surpass all that modern experience had witnessed. The
-constitutional doctrines of Mr. Fox on the Regency question were much
-canvassed, and, by many, severely censured. The fact was, that the
-case was new; provided for neither by law, precedent, nor analogy.
-Lord Loughborough first suggested the Prince’s claim of right; and it
-was hastily adopted by Mr. Fox, who had returned from Italy just as
-the discussion was pending. Mr. Fox’s Libel Bill places him among
-the most constitutional of our legislators. He saved his country from
-an unnecessary, unjust, and expensive war, by his exertions on occasion
-of the Russian Armament.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>The controversy on the Test and Corporation Acts has lost its interest,
-from having since been satisfactorily set at rest. But as, in a sketch
-like the present, we have more to do with the character of Mr. Fox’s
-mind than with his political history, we will here introduce an anecdote
-which the writer of this life heard related many years ago, by
-Dr. Abraham Rees, well known both in the scientific world, and as a
-leading divine in the dissenting interest. We have already spoken of
-the intuitive quickness of Mr. Fox’s parts; and the following anecdote
-will set that peculiarity in a strong light.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>On the day of the debate, Dr. Rees waited on Mr. Fox with a
-deputation, to engage his support in their cause. He received them
-courteously; but, though a friend to religious liberty, was evidently
-unacquainted with the strong points and principal bearings of their
-peculiar case. He listened attentively to their exposition, and, with an
-eye that looked them <em>through and through</em>, put four or five searching
-questions. They withdrew after a short conference, and as they
-walked up St. James’s Street, Mr. Fox passed them booted, as going
-to take air and exercise, to enable him to encounter the heat of the
-House and the storm of debate. From the gallery they saw him enter
-the House with whip in hand, as just dismounted. When he rose to
-speak, he displayed such mastery of his subject, his arguments and
-illustrations were so various, his views so profound and statesman-like,
-that a stranger must have imagined the question at issue between the
-high church party and the dissenters to have been the main subject
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_108'>108</span>of his study throughout life. That his principles of civil and religious
-liberty should have enabled him to declaim in splendid generalities
-was to be expected; but he entered as fully and deeply into the
-fundamental principles and most subtle distinctions of the question,
-as did those to whom it was of vital importance, and that after a short
-conference of some twenty minutes.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>The French revolution is a topic of such magnitude, that we can
-only touch upon Mr. Fox’s opinions and conduct with respect to it.
-After the taking of the Bastille, he describes it as “the greatest, and
-much the best event that ever happened in the world: all my prepossessions
-against French connections for this country will be at an
-end, and indeed most part of my European system of politics will be
-altered, if this revolution has the consequence that I expect.” But it
-had not that consequence; and his views were completely changed by
-the trial and execution of the King and Queen of France. But because
-he did not catch that contagious disease, made up of alarm and
-desperate violence, which involved his country in a disastrous war, he
-was represented as the blind apologist of injustice and massacre, as
-the careless, if not jacobinical spectator of the downfall of monarchy.
-Mr. Burke was the first to quarrel with Mr. Fox, and this quarrel led
-to the temporary estrangement from him of many of his oldest and
-most valuable friends. But “time and the hour” restored the good
-understanding between the members of the party, with the exception
-of Mr. Burke, who died while the paroxysm of Antigallican mania
-was at its height.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Mr. Fox opposed to the utmost the war, into which the minister was
-unwillingly forced. But as his passions became heated, and the difficulties
-of his situation increased, Mr. Pitt adopted all Mr. Burke’s
-views, and the rash project of a <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">bellum internecinum</span></i>. Both the public
-principles and the personal character of Mr. Fox were the subject of
-daily calumnies; and the warmth of his early testimony in favour of
-the French revolution was continually thrown in his teeth, after the
-10th of August, the massacres of September, and the success of
-Dumourier. But his whole conduct during this struggle was clear
-and consistent. At the dawn of the revolution, he felt and spoke as a
-citizen of the world; but he was the last man alive to have merged
-patriotism in the vague generalities of universal benevolence. When
-his own country became implicated in the strife, he no longer felt
-and spoke as a citizen of the world, but as a British statesman;
-and endeavoured to persuade his countrymen, not for French interests
-but for their own, to stand aloof from continental politics, relying, for
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_109'>109</span>the maintenance of a proud independence and dignified neutrality, on
-their insular situation and their wooden walls. His advice was not
-listened to, and his mind grew indisposed towards public business. He
-says in a letter, dated April, 1795, “I am perfectly happy in the country.
-I have quite resources enough to employ my mind, and the great
-resource of literature I am fonder of every day.” After making a
-vigorous, but unsuccessful opposition to the Treason and Sedition bills,
-he and his remaining friends seceded from parliament. He passed the
-years from 1797 to 1802, principally in retirement at St. Ann’s Hill;
-and they were the happiest of his life. His mornings passed in gardening
-and farming, his evenings over books and in conversation with his
-family and friends. During this period, his attention was much given
-to the Greek Tragedies and to Homer, whom he read not only with the
-ardent mind of a poet, but with the microscopic eye of a critic. His
-correspondence with an eminent scholar of the time was full of sagacious
-remarks on the suggestions and explanations of the commentators,
-as well as on the text of the poem. At this time also he conceived
-the plan of that history of which he left only a splendid fragment in
-a state fit for publication. He had been diligent in collecting materials,
-and scrupulous in verifying them. His partiality for the Greek
-classics followed him into this pursuit, and probably retarded his progress.
-He is considered to have taken for his model Thucydides, a
-writer strictly impartial in his narrative, grave even to severity in his
-style. He went to Paris with Mrs. Fox in the summer of 1802, partly
-to satisfy their mutual curiosity after so long an estrangement from
-the Continent, but principally for the purpose of examining the copious
-materials for the reign of James II. deposited in the Scotch college
-there. Every thing was thrown open to him in the most liberal manner,
-and, as the unflinching friend of peace through good and evil
-report, he was received with enthusiasm both by the people and the
-government. He had several interviews with Buonaparte: the chief
-topics of their conversation were the concordat, the trial by jury, the
-freedom, amounting in the opinion of the First Consul to licentiousness,
-of the English press, the difference between Asiatic and European
-society. On one occasion he indignantly repelled the charge
-against Mr. Windham, of being accessory to the plot of the <em>infernal
-machine</em>, alleging the utter impossibility of an English gentleman
-descending to so disgraceful a device. During his stay in France, he
-visited La Fayette at his country seat of La Grange.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Our limits will not allow us to enter, ever so cursorily, into his
-political career after the renewal of the war. His advice was wise,
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_110'>110</span>and consistent with himself; but it was not accepted. The King’s
-dislike of him was not to be overcome. The death of Mr. Pitt, however,
-made the admission of Mr. Fox and the Whigs, in conjunction
-with Lord Grenville, a matter of necessity. Mr. Fox’s desire of
-peace induced him to take the office of Secretary of State for Foreign
-Affairs; and, before his fatal illness, he had begun a negotiation for
-that main object of his whole life, with every apparent prospect of
-success. The hopes entertained from his accession to power were
-prematurely cut off; but his short career in office was honourably
-marked by the ministerial measure, determined on during his life, and
-carried after his decease, of the abolition of the Slave Trade.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>The complaint of which he died was dropsy, occasioned probably
-by the duties of office, and the fatigue of constant attendance in the
-House of Commons, after the comparative seclusion and learned ease
-in which he had lived for several years. He expired on the 13th of
-September, 1806, with his senses perfect and his understanding unclouded
-to the last.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>We conclude this brief account of Mr. Fox with the character
-drawn of him by one who knew him well, and was fully qualified to
-appreciate him,—Sir James Macintosh.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>“Mr. Fox united, in a most remarkable degree, the seemingly
-repugnant characters of the mildest of men and the most vehement of
-orators. In private life he was gentle, modest, placable, kind, of simple
-manners, and so averse from dogmatism, as to be not only unostentatious,
-but even something inactive in conversation. His superiority
-was never felt but in the instruction which he imparted, or in the attention
-which his generous preference usually directed to the more obscure
-members of the company. The simplicity of his manners was far
-from excluding that perfect urbanity and amenity which flowed still
-more from the mildness of his nature, than from familiar intercourse
-with the most polished society of Europe. The pleasantry perhaps of
-no man of wit had so unlaboured an appearance. It seemed rather to
-escape from his mind, than to be produced by it. He had lived on the
-most intimate terms with all his contemporaries distinguished by wit,
-politeness, or philosophy; by learning, or the talents of public life. In
-the course of thirty years he had known almost every man in Europe,
-whose intercourse could strengthen, or enrich, or polish the mind.
-His own literature was various and elegant. In classical erudition,
-which by the custom of England is more peculiarly called learning, he
-was inferior to few professed scholars. Like all men of genius, he
-delighted to take refuge in poetry, from the vulgarity and irritation
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_111'>111</span>of business. His own verses were easy and pleasant, and might have
-claimed no low place among those which the French call <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">vers de
-société</span></i>. The poetical character of his mind was displayed by his
-extraordinary partiality for the poetry of the two most poetical nations,
-or at least languages of the west, those of the Greeks and of the
-Italians. He disliked political conversation, and never willingly took
-any part in it.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>“To speak of him justly as an orator, would require a long essay.
-Every where natural, he carried into public something of that simple
-and negligent exterior which belonged to him in private. When he
-began to speak, a common observer might have thought him awkward;
-and even a consummate judge could only have been struck with the
-exquisite justness of his ideas, and the transparent simplicity of his
-manners. But no sooner had he spoken for some time, than he was
-changed into another being. He forgot himself and every thing around
-him. He thought only of his subject. His genius warmed and
-kindled as he went on. He darted fire into his audience. Torrents of
-impetuous and irresistible eloquence swept along their feelings and
-conviction. He certainly possessed above all moderns that union of
-reason, simplicity, and vehemence, which formed the prince of orators.
-He was the most Demosthenean speaker since the days of Demosthenes.
-‘I knew him,’ says Mr. Burke, in a pamphlet written after their unhappy
-difference, ‘when he was nineteen; since which time he has
-risen, by slow degrees, to be the most brilliant and accomplished
-debater the world ever saw.’</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>“The quiet dignity of a mind roused only by great objects, the
-absence of petty bustle, the contempt of show, the abhorrence of
-intrigue, the plainness and downrightness, and the thorough good
-nature which distinguished Mr. Fox, seem to render him no unfit
-representative of the old English character, which if it ever changed,
-we should be sanguine indeed to expect to see it succeeded by a
-better. The simplicity of his character inspired confidence, the
-ardour of his eloquence roused enthusiasm, and the gentleness of his
-manners invited friendship. ‘I admired,’ says Mr. Gibbon, after
-describing a day passed with him at Lausanne, ‘the powers of a
-superior man, as they are blended, in his attractive character, with all
-the softness and simplicity of a child: no human being was ever more
-free from any taint of malignity, vanity, or falsehood.’</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>“The measures which he supported or opposed may divide the
-opinion of posterity, as they have divided those of the present age.
-But he will most certainly command the unanimous reverence of future
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_112'>112</span>generations, by his pure sentiments towards the commonwealth; by
-his zeal for the civil and religious rights of all men; by his liberal
-principles, favourable to mild government, to the unfettered exercise of
-the human faculties, and the progressive civilization of mankind; by
-his ardent love for a country, of which the well-being and greatness
-were, indeed, inseparable from his own glory; and by his profound
-reverence for that free constitution which he was universally admitted
-to understand better than any other man of his age, both in an exactly
-legal and in a comprehensively philosophical sense.”</p>
-
-<div  class='figcenter id001'>
-<img src='images/i_112.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' />
-</div>
-
-<div  class='figcenter id001'>
-<img src='images/i_113fp.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' />
-<div class='ic001'>
-<p><em>Engraved by R. Woodman.</em><br /><br />BOSSUET.<br /><br /><em>From the original Picture by H. Rigaud, in the Collection of the Institute of France.</em><br /><br />Under the Superintendance of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge.<br /><br /><em>London. Published by Charles Knight, Pall Mall East.</em></p>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<div  class='figcenter id002'>
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_113'>113</span>
-<img src='images/i_113.jpg' alt='BOSSUET.' class='ig001' />
-</div>
-
-<div class='chapter'>
-  <h2 class='c006'>BOSSUET</h2>
-</div>
-
-<p class='c011'>The life of the Bishop of Meaux, a theologian and polemic familiarly
-known to his countrymen as the oracle of their church, forms an
-important part of the ecclesiastical history of the seventeenth century.
-A short personal memoir of such a man can serve only to excite
-curiosity, and in some measure to direct more extended inquiries.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Jacques-Benigne Bossuet, whose father and ancestors were honourably
-distinguished in the profession of the law, was born at Dijon,
-September 27, 1627. He was placed in his childhood at the college
-of the Jesuits in his native town; whence, at the age of fifteen, he
-was removed to the college of Navarre in Paris. At both these places
-his progress as a student was so rapid that he passed for a prodigy.
-It may be mentioned, not more as a proof of precocious intellect than
-as characteristic of the times, that soon after his removal to Paris,
-whither the fame of his genius had preceded him, he was invited
-to exhibit his powers as a preacher at the Hotel de Rambouillet
-in his sixteenth year. His performance was received with great
-approbation.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>In the year 1652 he was ordained priest, and, his talents having
-already made him known, he soon after received preferment in the
-cathedral church of Metz, of which he became successively canon,
-archdeacon, and dean. It was here that he published his Refutation
-of the Catechism of Paul Ferri, a protestant divine of high reputation.
-This was the first of that series of controversial writings which contributed,
-more than all his other works, to procure for him the high
-authority which he enjoyed in the church. He came forward in the
-field of controversy at a time when public attention was fixed on the
-subject, and when the favourite object both with Church and State was
-the peaceable conversion of the Protestants.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_114'>114</span>Richelieu in the preceding reign had crushed, by the vigour of his
-administration, the political power of the Protestant party. He, in
-common with many other statesmen, Catholic and Protestant, had
-conceived a notion that uniformity of religious profession was necessary
-to the tranquillity of the state. But, though unchecked in the prosecution
-of his objects by any scruples of conscience or feelings of
-humanity, he would have considered the employment of force, where
-persuasion could be effectual, to be, in the language of a modern
-politician, not a crime but a blunder. When therefore the army had
-done its work, he put in action a scheme for reclaiming the Protestants
-by every species of politic contrivance. The system commenced by
-him was continued by others; and of all those who laboured in the
-cause, Bossuet was indubitably the most able and the most distinguished.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>His first effort, the Refutation of the Catechism, recommended him
-to the notice of the Queen-Mother; and the favour which he now
-enjoyed at court was further increased by the fame of his eloquence in
-the pulpit, which he had frequent opportunities of displaying at Paris,
-whither he was called from time to time by ecclesiastical business.
-He was summoned to preach at the chapel of the Louvre before
-Louis XIV., who was pleased to express, in a letter to Bossuet’s father,
-the great delight which he received from the sermons of his son;
-for the versatile taste of the great monarch enabled him in one hour
-to recreate himself with the wit and beauty of his mistresses, and in
-the next to listen with undiminished pleasure to the exhortations of a
-Christian pastor. But Bossuet had still stronger claims on the gratitude
-of Louis by converting to the Roman Catholic faith the celebrated
-Turenne. This victory is said to have been achieved by his well-known
-Exposition, written in the year 1668, and published in 1671.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>So great was his influence at this time, that he was requested by the
-Archbishop of Paris to interfere in one of those many disputes which
-the Papal decrees against the tenets of Jansenius occasioned. The
-nuns of Port-Royal, who were attached to the doctrine and discipline
-of the Jansenists, were required to subscribe the celebrated Formulary,
-which selected for condemnation five propositions said to be
-contained in a certain huge work of Jansenius. Those excellent
-women modestly submitted, that they were ready to accept any doctrine
-propounded by the Church, and even to affix their names to the
-condemnation of the obnoxious propositions; but that they could not
-assert that these propositions were to be found in a book which they
-had never seen. In this difficulty the assistance of Bossuet was
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_115'>115</span>requested, who, after several conferences, wrote a long letter to the
-refractory nuns, highly commended for its acute logic and sound
-divinity. Much of the logic and divinity was probably thrown away
-upon the persons for whose use they were intended; but there was
-one part of the letter sufficiently intelligible. He congratulated them
-on their total exemption from all obligation to examine, and from the
-task of self-guidance; and assured them that it was their bounden
-duty, as well as their happy privilege, to subscribe and assent to every
-thing which was placed before them by authority. The nuns were
-not convinced. They escaped however for the present; but in the
-end they paid dearly for their passive resistance to the decision of
-Pope Alexander VII. on a matter of fact.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>In the year 1669, Bossuet was promoted to the bishopric of Condom,
-which he resigned the following year on being appointed to the important
-office of Preceptor to the Dauphin.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>History has told us nothing of the pupil, but that his capacity was
-mean, and his disposition sordid. To him, however, the world is
-indebted for the most celebrated of Bossuet’s performances. The
-Introduction to Universal History was written expressly for his use;
-and this masterly work may serve to confirm an opinion, entertained
-even by his friends, that Bossuet was not peculiarly qualified for his
-situation. To compose such a work for such a boy was worse than a
-waste of power.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Though devoted closely and conscientiously to the duties of his new
-office, he was not altogether withdrawn from what might be called
-his vocation, the prosecution of controversy. It was during the period
-of his connexion with the Court, that his celebrated conference
-occurred with the Protestant Claude. Mlle. de Duras, a niece of
-Turenne, had conceived scruples respecting the soundness of her
-Protestant principles, from the perusal of Bossuet’s ‘Exposition.’ She
-consulted M. Claude, who promised to resolve her doubts in the
-presence of Bossuet himself. The challenge was accepted, and the
-memorable conference was the result. Both parties published an
-account of it; and their statements, as might be expected without
-suspicion of dishonesty on either side, did not entirely agree. The
-lady was content to follow the example of her uncle.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Bossuet’s engagement with the Dauphin was concluded in the year
-1681, when he was rewarded with the bishopric of Meaux. In so short
-a memoir of such a man, where only the most prominent occurrences
-of his life can be noticed, there is danger lest the reader should regard
-him only in the character of a controversialist, or in the proud station of
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_116'>116</span>acknowledged leader of the Church. It is the more necessary, therefore,
-in this place to observe, that, to the comparatively obscure but really
-important duties of his diocese, he brought the same zeal and energy
-which he displayed on a more conspicuous theatre; and that he could
-readily exchange the pen of the polemic for that of the devout and
-affectionate pastor.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Louis, however, was not disposed to leave the Bishop undisturbed in
-his retirement. He was soon called forth to be the advocate of his
-temporal against his spiritual master.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>The Kings of France had long exercised certain powers in ecclesiastical
-matters, which had rather been tolerated than sanctioned by
-the Popes. Louis was determined not only to preserve, but considerably
-to extend, what his predecessors had enjoyed. Hence a
-sharp altercation was carried on for many years between him and the
-See of Rome. But, in 1682, in consequence of a threatening brief
-issued by that haughty pontiff, Innocent XII., he summoned, by the
-advice of his clergy, for the purpose of settling the matters in debate,
-a general Assembly of the Church. Of this famous Assembly Bossuet
-was deservedly regarded as the most influential member. He opened
-the proceedings with a sermon, having reference to the subjects which
-were to come under consideration. In this discourse the reader may
-find, perhaps, some marks of that embarrassment which he is supposed
-to have felt. He had the deepest sense of the unbounded power and
-awful majesty of kings in general, and the highest personal veneration
-for Louis in particular; but then, on the other hand, the degree of
-allegiance which he owed to his spiritual head it was almost impiety
-to define. So, after having illustrated, with all the force of his
-eloquence, the inviolable dignity of the Church, and fully established
-the supremacy of St. Peter, he carries up, as it were in a parallel line,
-the loftiest panegyric on the monarchy and monarchs of France.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>The discourse was celebrated for its ability, and without doubt the
-conflicting topics were managed with great skill. His difficulties did
-not cease with the dismissal of the Assembly. The question of the
-Régale, or the right of the King to the revenues of every vacant see,
-and to collate to the simple benefices within its jurisdiction, was settled
-not at all to the satisfaction of the Pope; and the declaration of the
-Assembly, drawn up by Bossuet himself, was fiercely attacked by the
-Transalpine divines. It was, of course, as vigorously defended by its
-author, who was in consequence accused by all his enemies, and some
-of his friends, of having forgotten his duty to the Pope in his subserviency
-to the King.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_117'>117</span>Nothing wearied by his exertions in the royal cause, he had scarcely
-left the Assembly, when he resumed his labours in defence of the
-Church against heresy. Several smaller works, put forth from time
-to time, seemed to be only a preparation for his great effort in the
-year 1688, when he published his ‘History of the Variations in
-the Protestant Churches.’ In this book he has made the most of
-what may be called the staple argument of the Catholics against the
-Protestants.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>The course of the narrative has now brought us beyond the period
-of the memorable revocation of the Edict of Nantes; and it will
-naturally be asked, in what light Bossuet regarded this act of folly and
-oppression. Neither his disposition nor his judgment would lead him
-to approve the atrocities perpetrated by the government; but, in a
-letter to the Intendant of Languedoc, he labours to justify the use of
-pains and penalties in enforcing religious conformity; that is, he
-justifies the act of Louis XIV. In this matter he was not advanced
-beyond his times; but, whatever may have been his theory of the
-lawfulness of persecution, his conduct towards the Protestants was
-such as to obtain for him the praise even of his opponents.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Hitherto we have seen Bossuet labouring incessantly to reconcile
-the Huguenots of France to the established religion. But, about this
-time, he took part in a more grand and comprehensive measure,
-sanctioned by the Emperor, and some other sovereign princes of
-Germany, for the reunion of the great body of the Lutherans throughout
-Europe with the Roman Catholic Church. They engaged the
-Bishop of Neustadt to open a communication with Molanus, a Protestant
-doctor of high reputation in Hanover. With these negotiators
-were afterwards joined Leibnitz on the part of the Protestants, and
-Bossuet on that of the Roman Catholics. Between these two great
-men the correspondence was carried on for ten years, in a spirit
-worthy of themselves and the cause in which they were engaged; and
-it terminated, as probably they both expected that it would terminate,
-in leaving the two Churches in the same state of separation in which
-it found them.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>It would have been well for the fame of Bossuet if the course of his
-latter days had been marked only by this defeat,—if it had not been
-signalized, when grey hairs had increased the veneration which his
-genius and services had procured him, by an inglorious victory over
-a weak woman, and a friend. The history of Madame Guyon, and
-the revival of mysticism under the name of Quietism, principally by
-her means, will more properly be found in a Life of Fenelon. The
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_118'>118</span>part which Bossuet took in the proceedings respecting her must be
-here very briefly noticed. As universal referee in matters of religion,
-he was called upon to examine her doctrines, which began to excite
-the jealousy of the Church. His conduct towards her, in the first
-instance, was mild and forbearing; but either zeal or anger betrayed
-him at length into a cruel persecution of this amiable visionary.
-Fenelon, who had partly adopted her views of Christian perfection,
-and thoroughly admired her Christian character, was required by
-Bossuet to surrender to him at once his opinions and his feelings.
-Fenelon was willing to do much, but would not consent to sacrifice
-his integrity to the offended pride of the irritated prelate. He
-defended his opinions in print, and the points in debate were, by his
-desire, referred to the Pope; and to him they should in common
-decency have been left: but we are disgusted with a detail of miserable
-intrigues, carried on in the council appointed by the Pope to examine
-the matter, and of vehement remonstrances with which his holiness
-himself was assailed, with the avowed object of extorting a reluctant
-condemnation. The warmest friends of Bossuet do not attempt to
-defend him on the plea that these things were done without his concurrence;
-they insist only on his disinterested zeal for religion. But
-let it be remembered, that this interference with Papal deliberation
-proceeded from one who believed the Vicar of Christ to be
-solemnly deciding, with the aid of the Holy Spirit, a point of faith for
-the benefit of the whole Catholic Church. Bossuet triumphed; and
-from that moment sunk perceptibly in the general esteem of his
-countrymen.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>During the few remaining years of his life he maintained his wonted
-activity, and in his last illness we find with pleasure that the Bible was
-his companion, and that he could employ his intervals of repose from
-severe suffering in composing a commentary on the 23d psalm. He
-died April 12, 1704, in his 76th year.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>The authority which Bossuet acquired was such, that he may be said
-not only to have guided the Gallican Church during his life, but in
-some measure to have left upon it the permanent impression of his
-own character. Of this authority no adequate notion can be formed
-from the preceding sketch. Few even of his works, which fill twenty
-volumes quarto, have been noticed. It should, however, be mentioned
-that he was employed by Louis XIV. in an attempt to overcome the
-religious scruples of James II., whose conscience revolted from that
-exercise of the prerogative in favour of the Protestant Church, which
-his restoration to the throne would have required. The laboured and
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_119'>119</span>somewhat extraordinary letter which Bossuet wrote on this occasion is
-dated May 22, 1693.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>His countrymen claim for Bossuet an exalted place among historians,
-orators, and theologians. The honours bestowed by them on his
-‘Introduction to Universal History’ have been continued by more
-impartial judges; and, even when unsupported by reference to the age
-in which it was written, it stands forth on its own merits as a noble
-effort of a comprehensive and penetrating mind. His Funeral Orations
-come to us recommended by the judgment of Voltaire, who ascribes to
-Bossuet alone, of all his contemporaries, the praise of real eloquence.
-The English reader will often be rewarded by passages, which in
-oratorical power have seldom been surpassed, and which may induce
-him to forgive much that is cold, inflated, and unnatural. But the
-Orations must be considered also as Christian discourses delivered by
-a minister of the Gospel from a Christian pulpit. They were composed,
-for the most part, to grace the obsequies of royal persons, and
-are, in fact, dedicated to the honour and glory of kings and princes.
-A text from Scripture is the peg on which is hung every thing which
-can minister to human pride, and dignify the vanities of a court; and
-the effect is but slightly impaired by well-turned phrases, proper to
-the occasion, on the nothingness of earthly things. But the orator is
-not content with general declamation, with prostrating himself before
-his magnificent visions of ancient pedigrees;—he descends to the
-meanest personal flattery of the living and the dead. When the Duchess
-of Orleans was laid in her coffin, her friends might hope that her frailties
-would be buried with her; but they could hardly expect that a
-Christian monitor should hold her forth as an exquisite specimen of
-female excellence, the glory of France, whom Heaven itself had
-rescued from her enemies to present as a precious and inestimable
-gift to the French nation. But on this occasion Bossuet was not yet
-perfect in his art, or the subject was not sufficiently disgraceful to
-draw forth all his powers. When afterwards called to speak over the
-dead body of the Queen, whose heart had withered under the wrongs
-which a licentious husband, amidst external respect, had heaped upon
-her, he finds it a fitting opportunity to pronounce at the same time a
-panegyric on the King. He recounts the victories won by the French
-arms, and ascribes them all to the prowess of his hero. But Louis is
-not only the taker of cities, he is the conqueror of himself; and the
-royal sensualist is praised for the government of his passions, the
-despot for his clemency and justice, and the grasping conqueror for
-his moderation.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_120'>120</span>The controversial writings of Bossuet deserve more regard than
-either his History or his Orations, if the importance of a book is to be
-measured by the extent and permanency of its effects. The Exposition
-of the Doctrines of the Roman Catholic Church, one of the
-shortest, but perhaps the most notable, of his theological works, was
-published under circumstances which gave occasion to a story of
-mysterious suppression and alteration. But a more serious charge
-has been brought against the author, of having deliberately misrepresented
-the doctrines of his Church, in order to entrap the Protestants.
-So grave an accusation ought not to be lightly entertained; and though
-suspicion is excited by symptoms of disingenuous management in the
-controversy, to which the publication gave birth; and though it appears
-to be demonstrable that the Roman Catholic religion, as commonly
-professed, and that many of its doctrines, as expressed or implied in some
-of its authorised formularies, differ essentially from the picture which
-Bossuet has drawn, yet it should at least be remembered that the book
-itself was eventually, though tardily, sanctioned by the highest
-authority in the Church. It is possible that Bossuet may by his
-Exposition have converted many beside Turenne; but there can be no
-doubt that he has wrought an extensive, though a less obvious, change
-within the bosom of his own Church. The high authority of his name
-would give currency to his opinions on any subject connected with
-religion; and many sincere Roman Catholics, who had felt the objections
-urged against certain practices and dogmas of their own Church,
-would rejoice to find, on the authority of Bossuet, that they were not
-obliged to own them.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>The charge of insincerity has been extended beyond the particular
-instance to the general character of the Bishop; and it has been
-asserted that he held, in secret, opinions inconsistent with those which
-he publicly professed. This charge, which is destitute of all proof,
-seems to have been the joint invention of over-zealous Protestants and
-pretended philosophers.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Enough has been shown to justify us in supposing that he was not
-one of those rare characters which can break loose from all the
-obstacles that oppose themselves to the simple love and uncompromising
-search of truth. Some men, like his illustrious countryman
-Du Pin, struggle to be free. It should seem that Bossuet, if circumstances
-fettered him, would not be conscious of his thraldom; that he
-would exert all the energies of his powerful mind, not to escape from
-his prison, but to render it a tenable fortress, or a commodious dwelling.
-It would be foolish and unjust to infer from this that he would
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_121'>121</span>persevere through life in deliberately maintaining what he had discovered
-to be false, on the most momentous of all subjects.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>A complete catalogue of his works may be found at the end of the
-Life of Bossuet in the Biographie Universelle. The Life itself, which
-is obviously written by a partial friend, contains much information in
-a small compass. The affair of Quietism, and the contest between
-Bossuet and Fenelon, are minutely detailed with great accuracy in the
-Life of Fenelon by the Cardinal de Bausset, whose impartiality seems
-to have been secured by the profound veneration which he entertained
-for each of the combatants, though the impression left on the reader’s
-mind is not favourable to the character of Bossuet.</p>
-
-<div  class='figcenter id003'>
-<img src='images/i_121.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' />
-</div>
-
-<div  class='figcenter id002'>
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_122'>122</span>
-<img src='images/i_122.jpg' alt='LORENZO DE MEDICI.' class='ig001' />
-</div>
-
-<div class='chapter'>
-  <h2 class='c006'>LORENZO DE MEDICI.</h2>
-</div>
-
-<p class='c011'>Among the genealogists who wasted their ingenuity to fabricate an
-imposing pedigree for Lorenzo de Medici, some pretended to derive his
-origin from the paladins of Charlemagne, and others to trace it to the
-eleventh century. But it is well ascertained that his ancestors only
-emerged from the inferior orders of the people of Florence in the
-course of the fourteenth century, when, by engaging in great commercial
-speculations, and by signalizing themselves as partisans of the
-populace of that republic, they speedily acquired considerable wealth
-and political importance.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Giovanni di Bicci, his great grandfather, may be regarded as the
-first illustrious personage of the family, and as the author of that crafty
-system of policy, mainly founded on affability and liberality, by which
-his posterity sprung rapidly to overwhelming greatness. By an
-assiduous application to trade he made vast additions to his paternal
-inheritance; by flattering the passions of the lowest classes he obtained
-the highest dignities in the state. He died in 1428, deeply regretted
-by his party, and leaving two sons, Cosmo and Lorenzo, from the
-latter of whom descended the Grand Dukes of Tuscany.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Cosmo was nearly forty when he succeeded to the riches and
-popularity of his father; and he had not only conducted for several
-years a commercial establishment which held counting-houses in all
-the principal cities of Europe and in the Levant, but had also participated
-in the weightier concerns of government. The form of the
-Florentine constitution was then democratical: the nobility had been
-long excluded from the administration of the republic; and the citizens,
-though divided into twenty-one guilds, or corporations of arts and
-trades, from seven of which alone the magistracy were chosen, had,
-however, an equal share in the nomination of the magistrates, who
-were changed every two months. The lower corporations, owing
-principally to the manœuvres of Salvestro de Medici, had risen in
-1378 against the higher, demanding a still more complete equality,
-and had taken the direction of the commonwealth into their own
-hands; but after having raised a carder of wool to the supreme
-power, and involved themselves in the evils of anarchy, convinced
-at last of their own incapacity, they had again submitted to the wiser
-guidance of that kind of burgher-aristocracy which they had subverted;
-and that party, headed by the Albizzi and some other families of
-distinction, had, ever since 1382, governed the state with unexampled
-happiness and glory. The republic had been aggrandized by
-the important acquisition of Leghorn, Pisa, Arezzo, and other Tuscan
-cities; its agriculture was in the most prosperous condition; its
-commerce had received a prodigious developement; its decided superiority
-in the cultivation of literature, the sciences, and the arts, had
-placed it foremost in the career of European civilization; and its
-generous but wise external policy had constituted it as the guardian of
-the liberties of Italy.</p>
-
-<div  class='figcenter id001'>
-<img src='images/i_122fp.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' />
-<div class='ic001'>
-<p><em>Engraved by C. E. Wagstaff.</em><br /><br />LORENZO DE MEDICI.<br /><br /><em>From a Print by Raffaelle Morghen, after a Picture by G. Vasari.</em><br /><br />Under the Superintendance of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge.<br /><br /><em>London. Published by Charles Knight, Pall Mall East.</em></p>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_123'>123</span>To this beneficent administration the aspiring Cosmo had long
-offered a troublesome opposition; and he now succeeded in ensnaring
-it into a ruinous war with Lucca, by which he obtained the double object
-of destroying its popularity, and of employing considerable sums of
-money with unusual profit. But the reverses of the republic were attributed
-to a treasonable correspondence between him and the enemy,
-and in 1433 he was seized and condemned to ten years’ banishment,
-having averted capital punishment by a timely bribe. The absence of
-a citizen who spent more than a great king in acts of piety, benevolence,
-and liberality, was, however, severely felt in the small city of Florence,
-and the intelligence of the honours he received everywhere in his exile
-raised him still more in public estimation. The number of his
-friends increased, indeed, so rapidly, that at the September elections in
-the following year they completely defeated the ruling party, and chose
-a set of magistrates by whom he was immediately recalled. This event,
-erroneously considered as a victory of the people over an aristocracy,
-was, properly speaking, a triumph of the populace over the more
-educated classes of the community, and it proved fatal to the republic.
-Placed by fame, wealth, and talent, at an immeasurable elevation above
-the obscure materials of his faction, from the moment of his return to
-that of his death, August, 1464, Cosmo exercised such an influence in
-the state, that, though he seldom filled any ostensible office, he governed
-it with absolute authority by means of persons wholly subservient to
-his will. But, under the pretence of maintaining peace and tranquillity,
-he superseded its free institutions by a junto invested
-with dictatorial power; he caused an alarming number of the most
-respectable citizens to be banished, ruined by confiscation, or even put
-to death, on the slightest suspicion that by their wealth or connexions
-they might oppose his schemes of ambition; and he laboured with
-indefatigable zeal to enslave his own confiding countrymen, not only
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_124'>124</span>by spreading secret corruption at home, but also by changing the
-foreign policy of his predecessors, and helping his great friend, Francesco
-Sforza, and other usurpers, to crush the liberties of neighbouring
-states.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Cosmo is nevertheless entitled to the grateful recollections of posterity
-for the efficient patronage he afforded learning and the arts, though he
-evidently carried it to excess as a means of promoting his political
-designs. He was profuse of favours and pensions to all who cultivated
-literature or philosophy with success; he bought at enormous prices
-whatever manuscripts or masterpieces of art his agents could collect
-in Europe or Asia; he ornamented Florence and its environs with
-splendid palaces, churches, convents, and public libraries. He died
-in the seventy-fifth year of his age, just after a decree of the
-senate had honoured him with the title of Father of his country,
-which was subsequently inscribed on his tomb.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Lorenzo de Medici, the subject of the present memoir, was born at
-Florence on the 1st of January, 1448. His father was Piero, the son
-and successor of Cosmo: his mother, Lucretia Tornabuoni, a lady of
-some repute, both as a patroness of learning and as a poetess. He had
-scarcely left the nursery when he acquired the first rudiments of
-knowledge under the care and tuition of Gentile d’Urbino, afterwards
-Bishop of Arezzo. Cristoforo Landino was next engaged to direct his
-education; and Argyropylus taught him the Greek language and the
-Aristotelian philosophy, whilst Marsilio Ficino instilled into his youthful
-mind the precepts and doctrines of Plato. The rapidity of his proficiency
-was equal to the celebrity of his masters, and to the indications
-of talent that he had given in childhood. Piero, who was
-prevented by a precarious state of health from attending regularly
-to business, rejoiced at the prospect of soon having in his own son a
-strenuous and trusty coadjutor; and on the death of Cosmo, the
-domestic education of Lorenzo being completed, he sent him to visit
-the principal courts of Italy, in order to initiate him into political life,
-and to afford him an opportunity of forming such personal connexions
-as might advance the interests of the family. Piero pretended to
-succeed to Cosmo’s authority, as if it had been a part of his patrimony;
-but the Florentine statesmen, who thought themselves superior to him
-in age, capacities, and public services, disdained to pay him the same
-deference they had shown the more eminent abilities of his father.
-Besides, Cosmo had taken especial care to conciliate the esteem
-and affection of his countrymen. He had never refused gifts, loans, or
-credit to any of the citizens, and never raised his manners or his
-domestic establishment above the simplicity of common life. But
-Piero seemed to have no regard for the feelings of others: he ruined
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_125'>125</span>several merchants by attempting to withdraw considerable capital
-from commerce; he allowed his subordinate agents to make a
-most profligate and corrupt monopoly of government; and he shocked
-the republican notions of his countrymen by seeking to marry Lorenzo
-into a princely family. These causes of discontent arrayed against
-him a formidable party, under the direction of Agnolo Acciajuoli,
-Niccolo Soderini, and Luca Pitti, the founder of the magnificent
-palace, now the residence of the Grand Duke of Tuscany. A
-parliament of the people rejected Piero’s proposition of re-appointing
-the dictatorial junto, whose power expired in September, 1465. His
-cause was evidently lost, had his enemies continued firmly united; but
-the defection of the unprincipled Luca Pitti enabled him to recover
-his authority, which he soon secured by banishing his opponents, and by
-investing five of his dependants with the right of choosing the magistracy.
-Lorenzo is said on this occasion to have been of great assistance
-to his father; and a letter of Ferdinand, King of Naples, is still extant,
-in which that perfidious monarch congratulates him on the active part
-he had taken in the triumph, and in the consequent curtailment of
-popular rights.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>The populace of Florence were now entertained with splendid
-festivals, and with two tournaments, in which Lorenzo and his brother
-Giuliano bore away the prizes. These tournaments form an epoch in
-the history of literature; the victory of Lorenzo having been commemorated
-by the verses of Luca Pulci, and that of Giuliano, by a
-poem of Politian, which restored Italian poetry to its former splendour.
-About this period, 1468, Lorenzo became enamoured, or rather fancied
-himself enamoured, of a lady whom he described as prodigiously
-endowed with all the charms of her sex, and he strove to immortalize
-his love in song. But, whether real or supposed, his passion did not
-prevent him from marrying Clarice Orsini, of the famous Roman family
-of that name. The nuptials were celebrated on the 4th of June, 1469,
-on a scale of royal magnificence.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>The death of Piero, which happened about the end of the same year,
-was not followed by any interruption of public tranquillity. The republicans
-were now either old or in exile; the rising generation grew up
-with principles of obedience to the Medici; and Lorenzo was easily
-acknowledged as the chief of the state. An attempt at revolution was
-made a few months afterwards at Prato, by Bernardo Nardi and some
-other Florentine exiles; but the complete inertness of the inhabitants
-rendered it unsuccessful. Nardi and six of his accomplices were
-executed at Florence; the remainder at Prato. Surrounded by a host
-of poets, philosophers, and artists, Lorenzo, however, left the republic
-under the misgovernment of its former rulers, whilst he gave himself
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_126'>126</span>up to the avocations of youth, and indulged an extraordinary taste for
-pompous shows and effeminate indulgence, which had a most pernicious
-influence on the morals of his fellow-citizens. The ostentatious
-visit which his infamous friend Galeazzo Sforza paid him in 1471, with
-a court sadly celebrated for its corruption and profligacy, is lamented by
-historians as one of the greatest disasters that befell the republic.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Lorenzo went soon afterwards on a deputation to Rome, for the purpose
-of congratulating Sixtus IV. on his elevation to the papal chair.
-He met with the kindest reception; was made treasurer of the Holy
-See, and honoured with other favours; but he could not obtain a cardinal’s
-hat for his brother Giuliano. Accustomed to have his wishes
-readily gratified, he could not brook the refusal, and he sought his
-revenge in constantly thwarting the Pope in his politics, whether they
-tended to the advancement of his nephews, or to the liberty and independence
-of Italy. A disagreement, which arose in 1472, between the
-city of Volterra and the republic of Florence, afforded another instance
-of the peremptoriness of his character. He, at first, made some endeavours
-to convince the inhabitants of Volterra of their imprudence; but
-finding that the exasperated citizens rejected his advice, he prevailed
-on the Florentine government to repress them by force, though his
-uncle Tomaso Soderini and other statesmen of more experience strongly
-recommended conciliatory measures. An army was accordingly sent
-under the command of the Count of Urbino, which, after obtaining
-admission into the unfortunate city by capitulation, despoiled and plundered
-its inhabitants for a whole day.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Though, on his first succeeding to his father, Lorenzo did not
-attempt to exercise the sovereign authority in person, he assumed
-it by degrees, in proportion as he advanced in manhood; and he even
-became so jealous of all those from whom any rivalry might be feared,
-that he depressed them to the utmost of his power. His brother,
-less ambitious and less arrogant than himself, tried to stop him in his
-tyrannical career; but Giuliano was five years younger: his representations
-had no effect; and these vexatious proceedings gave origin
-to the conspiracy of the Pazzi. The parties engaged in this famous
-attempt were several members of the distinguished family of the
-Pazzi, whom Lorenzo had injured in their interests as well as in
-their feelings; Girolamo Riario, a nephew of the Pope, whose
-hatred he had excited by continual opposition to his designs; Francesco
-Salviati, Archbishop of Pisa, whom he had prevented from
-taking possession of his see; and several other individuals of inferior
-note, who were either moved by private or public wrongs. After vain
-endeavours to seize the two brothers together, the conspirators resolved
-to execute their enterprize in the cathedral of Florence, on the 26th
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_127'>127</span>of April, 1478, in the course of a religious ceremony at which they
-were both to be present. At the moment that the priest raised
-the host, and all the congregation bowed down their heads, Giuliano
-fell under the dagger of Bernardo Bandini, whilst Lorenzo was so
-fortunate as to escape, and shut himself up in the sacristy until his
-friends came to his assistance. A simultaneous attack on the palace of
-government failed of success, and the Archbishop Salviati, who had
-directed it, was hung out of the palace windows in his prelatical robes.
-All those who were implicated in the conspiracy, or connected in any
-way with the conspirators, were immediately put to death. Lorenzo
-exerted all his influence to obtain those who had taken refuge abroad;
-and his wrath was not appeased until the blood of two hundred citizens
-was shed. The Pope pronounced a sentence of excommunication
-against him and the chief magistrates for having hanged an archbishop;
-and sent a crusade of almost all Italy against the republic,
-requiring that its leaders should be given up to suffer for their scandalous
-misdemeanour. The superior forces of the enemy ravaged the
-Florentine territory with impunity: the people began to murmur
-against a war in which they were involved for the sake of an individual;
-and Lorenzo could not but see that his situation became every
-day more critical and alarming. But having been confidently apprized
-that Ferdinand was disposed to a reconciliation with him, he took the
-resolution of going to Naples, as ambassador of the republic, in the
-hope of detaching the King from the league, and of inducing him to
-negotiate a peace with the Pope. Through his eloquence and his gold,
-he was successful in his mission; and after three months’ absence,
-at the beginning of March, 1480, he returned to Florence, where he
-was received with the greatest applause and exultation by the populace,
-to whom the dangers incurred by him in his embassy had been
-artfully exaggerated.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>This ebullition of popular favour encouraged Lorenzo to complete
-the consolidation of his power by fresh encroachments on the rights of
-his countrymen. In 1481 another plot was formed against him;
-but his watchful agents discovered it, and Battista Frescobaldi, with
-two of his accomplices, were hanged. Tranquil and secure at home,
-as well as peaceful and respected abroad, he now diverted his mind
-from public business to literary leisure, and spent his time in the
-society of men of talent, in philosophical studies, and in poetical composition.
-But his rational enjoyments had a short duration. Early in
-1492 he was attacked by a slow fever, which, combined with his hereditary
-complaints, warned him of his approaching end. Having sent
-to request the attendance of the famous Savonarola, to whom he was
-desirous of making his confession, the austere Dominican readily complied
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_128'>128</span>with his wish, but declared he could not absolve him unless he
-restored to his fellow-citizens the rights of which he had despoiled them.
-To such a reparation Lorenzo would not consent; and he died without
-obtaining the absolution he had invoked. Piero, the eldest of his
-three sons, was deprived of the sovereignty in consequence of the
-reaction that the eloquent sermons of Savonarola produced in the
-morals of Florence. Giovanni, whom Innocent VIII., by a prostitution
-of ecclesiastical honours unprecedented in the annals of the church,
-had raised to the Cardinalship at the early age of thirteen, became
-Pope under the name of Leo X., and gave rise to the Reformation
-by his extreme profligacy and extravagance; and Giuliano, who afterwards
-allied himself by marriage to the royal House of France, was
-elevated to the dignity of Duke of Nemours.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Lorenzo de Medici has been extolled with immoderate applause as a
-poet, a patron of learning, and a statesman. His voluminous poetical
-compositions, embracing subjects of love, rural life, philosophy, religious
-enthusiasm, and coarse licentiousness, exhibit an uncommon versatility
-of genius, a rich imagination, and a remarkable purity of language;
-but in spite of the exaggerated eulogies lavished on them by his own
-flatterers and by those of his dependants, they never obtained any popularity,
-and are now nearly buried in oblivion. His efforts for the
-diffusion of knowledge and taste shine more conspicuous; in this
-laudable course he followed the traces of Cosmo and of his father. It
-is, however, impossible to conceive any strong reverence or respect for
-his memory without forgetting his political conduct, which is far from
-deserving any praise.</p>
-
-<div  class='figcenter id003'>
-<img src='images/i_128.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' />
-</div>
-
-<div  class='figcenter id001'>
-<img src='images/i_129fp.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' />
-<div class='ic001'>
-<p><em>Engraved by E. Scriven.</em><br /><br />GEORGE BUCHANAN.<br /><br /><em>From a Picture by Francis Pourbus Sen. in the possession of the Royal Society.</em><br /><br />Under the Superintendance of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge.<br /><br /><em>London. Published by Charles Knight, Pall Mall East.</em></p>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<div  class='figcenter id002'>
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_129'>129</span>
-<img src='images/i_129.jpg' alt='BUCHANAN' class='ig001' />
-</div>
-
-<div class='chapter'>
-  <h2 class='c006'>BUCHANAN</h2>
-</div>
-
-<p class='c011'>George Buchanan was born in February, 1506, at a small village
-called Killearn, on the borders of Stirlingshire and Dumbartonshire.
-He came, as he says, “of a family more gentle and ancient than
-wealthy.” His father dying, left a wife and eight children in a
-state of poverty. George, one of the youngest, was befriended, and,
-perhaps, saved from want and obscurity, by the kindness of his
-mother’s brother, James Heriot, who had early remarked his nephew’s
-talents, and determined to foster them by a good education. The
-ancient friendship between France and Scotland, cemented by their
-mutual hate of England, was then in full force. The Scotch respected
-the superiority of the French in manners, arts, and learning; and very
-commonly sent the wealthier and more promising of their youth to be
-educated by their more polished neighbours. Accordingly Buchanan,
-at the age of fourteen, was sent by his uncle to the University of
-Paris. Here he applied himself most diligently to the prescribed
-course of study, which consisted principally in a careful perusal of the
-best Latin authors, especially the poets. This kind of learning was
-peculiarly suited to his taste and genius; and he made such progress,
-as not only to become a sound scholar, but one of the most graceful
-Latin writers of modern times.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>After having remained in Paris for the space of two years, which
-he must have employed to much better purpose than most youths of
-his age, the death of his kind uncle reduced him again to poverty.
-Partly on this account, partly from ill health, he returned to his own
-country, and spent a year at home. Alter having recruited his
-strength, he entered as a common soldier into a body of troops that
-was brought over from France by John Duke of Albany, then Regent
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_130'>130</span>of Scotland, for the purpose of opposing the English. Buchanan
-himself says that he went into the army “to learn the art of war;” it
-is probable that his needy circumstances were of more weight than this
-reason. During this campaign he was subjected to great hardships
-from severe falls of snow; in consequence of which he relapsed
-into his former illness; and was obliged to return home a second time,
-where he was confined to his bed a great part of the winter. But on
-his recovery, in the spring of 1524, when he was just entering
-upon his 18th year, he again took to his studies, and pursued
-them with great ardour. He seems to have found friends at this
-time rich enough to send him to the University of St. Andrews, on
-which foundation he was entered as a <em>pauper</em>, a term which corresponds
-to the servitor and sizer of the English Universities. John
-Mair, better known (through Buchanan<a id='r2' /><a href='#f2' class='c012'><sup>[2]</sup></a>) by his Latinized name of
-Major, was then reading lectures at St. Andrews on grammar and
-logic. He soon heard of the superior accomplishments of the poor
-student, and immediately took him under his protection. Buchanan,
-notwithstanding his avowed contempt for his old tutor, must have
-imbibed from Major many of his opinions. He was of an ardent
-temper, and easy, as his contemporaries tell us, to lead whichever way
-his friends desired him to go; he was also of an inquiring disposition,
-and never could endure absurdities of any kind. This sort of mind
-must have found great delight in the doctrines which Major taught.
-He affirmed the superiority of general councils over the papacy, even
-to the depriving a Pope of his spiritual authority in case of misdemeanour;
-he denied the lawfulness of the Pope’s temporal sway; he held
-that tithes were an institution of mere human appointment, which
-might be dropped or changed at the pleasure of the people; he railed
-bitterly against the immoralities and abominations of the Romish
-priesthood. In political matters his creed coincides exactly with
-Buchanan’s published opinions,—that the authority of kings was not
-of divine right, but was solely through the people, for the people;
-that by a lawful convention of states, any king, in case of tyranny or
-misgovernment, might be controlled, divested of his power, or capitally
-executed according to circumstances. But if Major, who was a weak
-man and a bad arguer, had such weight with Buchanan, John Knox,
-the celebrated Scottish reformer, who was a fellow-student with him at
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_131'>131</span>St. Andrews, must have had still more. They began a strict friendship
-at this place, which only ended with their lives. Knox speaks very
-highly of him at a late period of his own life: “That notabil man,
-Mr. George Bucquhanane, remainis alyve to this day, in the yeir of
-God 1566 yeares, to the glory of God, to the gret honor of this
-natioun, and to the comfort of thame that delyte in letters and vertew.
-That singular work of David’s Psalmes, in Latin meetere and poesie,
-besyd many uther, can witness the rare graices of God gevin to that
-man.” These two men speedily discovered the absurdity of the art of
-logic, as it was then taught. Buchanan tells us that its <em>proper</em> name
-was the art of sophistry. Their mutual longings for better reasonings,
-and better thoughts to reason upon, produced great effects in the
-reformation of their native country.</p>
-
-<div class='footnote' id='f2'>
-<p class='c000'><span class='label'><a href='#r2'>2</a>.&nbsp;&nbsp;</span>See his epigram. “<span lang="la" xml:lang="la">In Johannem solo cognomento Majorem ut ipse in fionte libri scripsit.</span>”</p>
-
-<div class='lg-container-b c013'>
-  <div class='linegroup'>
-    <div class='group'>
-      <div class='line'><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Cum scateat nugis solo cognomine Major,</span></div>
-      <div class='line in2'><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Nec sit in immenso patina sana libro;</span></div>
-      <div class='line'><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Non minem titulis quod se veracibus ornet;</span></div>
-      <div class='line in2'><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Nec semper mendax fingere Creta solet.</span></div>
-    </div>
-  </div>
-</div>
-
-<p class='c000'>The book was “ane most fulish tractate on ane most emptie subject.”</p>
-</div>
-
-<p class='c000'>After Buchanan had finished his studies at St. Andrew’s, and taken
-the degree of Bachelor of Arts, he accompanied Major to Paris, where
-his attention was more seriously turned towards the doctrines of the
-reformation, which at that time were eagerly and warmly discussed;
-but whether from fear of the consequences, or from other motives, he
-did not then declare himself to be a Lutheran. For five years he
-remained abroad, sometimes employed, sometimes in considerable
-want; at the end of which time he returned to Scotland with the
-Earl of Cassilis, by whom he had been engaged as a travelling companion.
-His noble patron introduced him at the court of James V.
-the father of Mary Stuart. James retained him as tutor to his natural
-son, James Stuart, afterwards Abbot of Kelso. It has been proved
-that he was <em>not</em> tutor to the King’s other natural son, James Stuart,
-afterwards Earl of Murray and Regent of Scotland, whose first title
-was Prior of St. Andrews.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>While he was at court, having a good deal of leisure, he amused
-himself with writing a pretty severe satire on the monks, to which he
-gives the name of “Somnium.” He feigns in this piece that Saint
-Francis d’Assize had appeared to him in a dream, and besought him to
-become a monk of his order. The poet answers, “that he is nowise
-fit for the purpose; because he could not find in his heart to become
-slavish, impudent, deceitful, or beggarly, and that moreover very few
-monks had the good fortune, as he understood, to reach even the gates
-of paradise.” This short satire was too well written, and too bitter, to
-pass unnoticed, and the sufferers laid their complaint before the king:
-but as Buchanan’s name had not been put to it, they had no proof
-against him, and the matter dropped. Soon after the Franciscans fell
-into disgrace at Court; and James himself instigated the poet to
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_132'>132</span>renew the attack. He obeyed, but did not half satisfy the King’s
-anger in the light and playful piece which he produced. On a second
-command to be still more severe, he produced his famous satire
-‘Franciscanus,’ in which he brings all his powers of wit and poetry to
-bear upon the unfortunate brotherhood. The argument of the poem
-is as follows:—he supposes that a friend of his is earnestly desirous
-to become a Cordelier, upon which he tells him that he also had had
-a similar intention, but had been dissuaded from it by a third person,
-whose reasons he proceeds to relate. They turn upon the wretched
-morals and conduct of those who belonged to the order, as exhibited
-in the abominable lessons which he puts in the mouth of an ancient
-monk, the instructor of the novices. He does not give this man
-the character of a rough and ignorant priest, but makes him tell
-his tale cleverly, giving free vent to every refinement in evil which
-the age was acquainted with, and speaking the most home truths of
-his brethren without fear or scruple. The Latin is pure, and free from
-the barbarisms of the time.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>After such a caustic production, it is no wonder that the party
-assailed made use of every means to destroy its author. The King,
-who was a weak and variable man, after much importunity on their
-part, allowed them to have Buchanan arrested in the year 1539, on the
-plea of heresy, along with many others who held his opinions about the
-state of the Scottish church. Cardinal Beatoun, above all others, used
-his best endeavours to procure sentence against him; he even bribed
-the King to effect his purpose. But Buchanan’s friends gave him
-timely warning of the prelate’s exertions, and, as he was not very
-carefully guarded, he made his escape out of the window of his prison,
-and fled to England. He found, however, that England was no safe
-place for him, for at that time Henry VIII. was burning, on the same
-day and at the same stake, both protestant and papist, with the most
-unflinching impartiality. He went over, therefore, for the third time
-into France; but on his arrival at Paris, finding his old enemy the
-Cardinal Beatoun ambassador at the French court, and being fearful
-that means might be taken to have him arrested, he closed with the
-offer of a learned Portuguese, Andrea di Govea, to become a tutor at
-the new college at Bourdeaux. During his residence there he composed
-his famous Latin Tragedies, ‘Jephthes’ and ‘Joannes Baptistes,’
-and translated the Medea and Alcestis of Euripides into Latin metre,
-for the youth of his college. The two latter show that his acquaintance
-with the Greek language was by no means superficial.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>After holding this situation for about three years, Buchanan went
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_133'>133</span>with Govea, at the instance of the King of Portugal, to a lately established
-school at Coimbra. Before he ventured into Portugal, however,
-he took care to let the King know that his Franciscanus was undertaken
-at the command of his sovereign, and therefore ought nowise
-to endanger his safety in Portugal. The King promised him his protection.
-But he had not been at Coimbra long, before he was accused
-by the monks of heresy, and the King, forgetting his promise, allowed
-them to keep Buchanan prisoner in a convent, as they declared, for the
-purpose of reclaiming him. They gave him as a penance the task of
-translating the Psalms of David from the Vulgate into Latin verse.
-This he accomplished to admiration; and his production is acknowledged
-to surpass all works of the like sort. The metres are chiefly
-lyrical. He was soon after dismissed from prison, and took ship for
-England, and staying there but a short time, he returned again to
-France. Here the Marechal de Brissac intrusted him with the education
-of his son Timoleon de Cossé. While thus employed he studied,
-more particularly than he had hitherto done, the controversies of the
-day with regard to religion, and became most probably a confirmed
-protestant, though he did not openly renounce catholicism till some
-time afterwards. He wrote, and dedicated to his pupil, a much
-admired piece, entitled ‘Sphœra,’ during his tutorship. In the year
-1560 he returned again to Scotland, the reformed religion being then
-prevalent there, and became publicly a member of the Protestant Kirk.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>The most important, because the most public part of Buchanan’s
-life now begins. Such a man could not long remain unnoticed by the
-great in Scotland, and Mary Stuart herself became one of his best
-friends. He had written for her two epithalamia, one on her marriage
-with the Dauphin, and one on her marriage with Lord Darnley. Her
-respect for his abilities was very great, and she had him appointed
-tutor to her son a month after he was born, in the year 1566.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>It is a matter of no small wonder, that Buchanan, who was James’s
-most influential tutor, for the three others, who were joined in the
-commission with him, were under his superintendence, should have
-educated him as he did, or made him what he was. A book which
-Buchanan published, and which is among the most famous of his
-works, ‘De jure Regni apud Scotos,’ being a conversation between
-himself and Maitland the Queen’s secretary, contains (though dedicated
-to his royal pupil) sentiments totally at variance with all the notions
-of James. In it Buchanan follows the ancient models of what was
-thought a perfect state of policy. He proves that men were born to
-live socially,—that they elected kings to protect the laws which bind
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_134'>134</span>them together,—that if new laws are made by kings, they must be
-also subjected to the opinion of the states of the nation,—that a king
-is the father of his people for good, not for evil,—that this was the
-original intention in the choice of Scottish kings,—that the crown is
-not necessarily hereditary, and that its transmission by natural descent
-but for its certainty is not defensible,—that a violation of the laws by
-the monarch may be punished even to the death, according to the
-enormity of it,—that when St. Paul talks of obedience to authorities
-he spoke to a low condition of persons, and to a minority in the
-various countries in which they were,—that it is not necessary that a
-king should be tried by his peers. He concludes by saying, “that if
-in other countries the people chose to exalt their kings above the laws,
-it seems to have been the evident intention of Scotland to make her
-kings inferior to them.” In matters of religion he rails against
-episcopal authority of all kinds. Now nothing can be more opposed
-than all this to the opinions of James, who most strongly upheld the
-divine right of kings, and episcopal authority. Buchanan, when he
-was accused of making James a pedant, declared it to be “because
-he was fit for nothing else.” He was a stern and unyielding master,
-and no sparer of the rod, even though applied to the back of royalty;
-and this may in some measure account for the want of influence
-which he had over the King’s mind. James advises his son, in
-his <span lang="el" xml:lang="el">βασίλικον δῷρον</span> not to attend to the abominable scandals of such
-men as Buchanan and Knox, “who are persons of seditious spirit, and
-all who hold their opinions.”</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>It might have been well, however, for the unfortunate Charles if he
-had been rather more swayed by the opinions of the tutor, and less by
-the lessons of the pupil. In the early part of Buchanan’s tutorship he
-attached himself strongly to the interests of the Regent, Murray; and
-as the patron fell off from the interests of Mary, so did the historian,
-till at last he became the bitterest of her enemies. He alone has ventured
-to assert in print his belief of her criminal connexion with David
-Rizzio, in his ‘<span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Detectio Mariæ Reginæ</span>,’ published in 1571; and he
-was her great accuser at the court of Elizabeth, when appointed one of
-the commissioners to inquire into Mary’s conduct, she being a prisoner
-in England. Buchanan too lies under the serious charge of having
-forged the controverted letters, supposed to have passed between Mary
-and her third husband Bothwell, while she was yet the wife of Earl
-Darnley, from which documents it was made to appear that she was
-art and part in the murder of her Royal Consort. Whether he really
-forged these letters or not, is a question perhaps too deeply buried
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_135'>135</span>in the dust of antiquity to admit of proof. He offered to swear to
-their genuineness, however, which was an ill return, if that were all
-his fault, to the kindness he had received from her. His friendship
-for Murray continued firm all his life; this man was one of the few
-persons he seems to have been really attached to. Through the Earl’s
-interest, Buchanan was made keeper of the Scottish seals, and a Lord
-of Session. Nothing is told us of his abilities as a practical politician,
-but it may be supposed that he was fitted for the office he held, for
-Murray was very careful in the choice of his public servants.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Buchanan’s last work, on which he spent the remaining fourteen
-years of his life, is yet to be spoken of,—his History of Scotland. In
-this, which like the rest of his productions was written in Latin, he
-has been said to unite the elegance of Livy with the brevity of Sallust.
-With this praise, however, and with that which is due to his lively and
-interesting way of relating a story, our commendations of this work
-must begin and end. As a history, it is valueless. The early part is
-a tissue of fable, without dates or authorities, as indeed he had none to
-give; the latter is the work of an acrimonious and able partisan, not
-of a calm inquirer and observer of the times in which he lived. The
-work is divided into four books. The first three contain a long dissertation
-on the derivation of the name of Britain,—a geographical
-description of Scotland, with some poetical accounts of its ancient manners
-and customs,—a treatise on the ancient inhabitants of Britain,
-chiefly taken from the traditionary accounts of the bards, and the fables
-of the monks engrafted on them, on the vestiges of ancient religions,
-and on the resemblances of the various languages of different parts of
-the island. The real history of Scotland does not begin till the fourth
-book; it consists of an account of a regular succession of one hundred
-and eight kings, from Fergus I. to James VI., a space extending
-from the beginning of the sixth century to the end of the sixteenth.
-The apocryphal nature of the greater part of these monarchs is now so
-fully admitted, that it is unnecessary to dilate upon them. Edward I.,
-as is well known, destroyed all the genuine records of Scottish history
-which he could find. Buchanan, instead of rejecting the absurd
-traditionary tales of bards and monks, has merely laboured to dress up
-a creditable history for the honour of Scotland, and to “clothe with all
-the beauties and graces of fiction, those legends which formerly had
-only its wildness and extravagance.”</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>This work, and his De jure Regni apud Scotos, he published at the
-same time, very shortly before his death; and, while he was on his
-death-bed, the Scottish Parliament condemned them both as false and
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_136'>136</span>seditious books. We may lay part of this condemnation to James’s
-account. It is not probable that he would allow so much abuse of his
-mother as they contained, directly and indirectly, to pass without some
-public stigma. There remain to be noticed only two small pieces of
-this author in the Scottish language, one a grievous complaint to the
-Scottish peers, arising from the assassination of the Earl of Murray;
-the other, a severe satire against Secretary Maitland, for the readiness
-with which he changed from party to party: this has the title of
-‘Chameleon.’</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Buchanan died at the good old age of seventy-four, in his dotage as
-his enemies said, but in full vigour of mind as his last great work,
-his History, has proved. Much has been said in his dispraise by
-enemies of every class, his chief detractors being the partisans of
-Mary Stuart and the Romish priesthood. The first of these accuse
-him of ingratitude to Major, Mary, Morton, Maitland, and to others of
-his benefactors; of forging the letters above-mentioned, and of perjury
-in offering to swear to them. The latter accuse him of licentiousness,
-of drunkenness, and falsehood; and one of them has descended so far
-as to quarrel with his personal ugliness. Of these charges many are,
-to say the least, unproved; many appear to be altogether untrue.
-But his fame rests rather on his persevering industry, his excellent
-scholarship, and his fine genius, than upon his moral qualities.
-Buchanan wrote his own life in Latin two years before his death.
-To this work, to Mackenzie’s ‘Lives and Characters of the most
-eminent writers of the Scots Nation,’ to the Biographia Britannica,
-and the numerous authorities on insulated points there quoted, we
-may refer those who wish to pursue this subject. Buchanan’s works
-were collected and edited by the grammarian Ruddiman, and printed
-by Freebairn, at Edinburgh, in the year 1715, in two volumes, folio.</p>
-
-<div  class='figcenter id001'>
-<img src='images/i_136.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' />
-</div>
-
-<div  class='figcenter id001'>
-<img src='images/i_137fp.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' />
-<div class='ic001'>
-<p><em>Engraved by J. Thomson.</em><br /><br />FÉNÉLON.<br /><br /><em>From the original Picture by Vivien in the Collection at the Louvre.</em><br /><br />Under the Superintendance of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge.<br /><br /><em>London. Published by Charles Knight, Pall Mall East.</em></p>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<div  class='figcenter id002'>
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_137'>137</span>
-<img src='images/i_137.jpg' alt='FENELON' class='ig001' />
-</div>
-
-<div class='chapter'>
-  <h2 class='c006'>FENELON</h2>
-</div>
-
-<p class='c011'>Francois de Salignac de Lamothe-Fenelon was born August
-6th, 1651, at the Castle of Fenelon, of a noble and ancient family in
-the province of Perigord.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Early proofs of talent and genius induced his uncle, the Marquis de
-Fenelon, a man of no ordinary merit, to take him under his immediate
-care and superintendence. By him he was placed at the seminary of
-St. Sulpice, then lately founded in Paris for the purpose of educating
-young men for the church.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>The studies of the young Abbé were not encouraged by visions of a
-stall and a mitre. It seems that the object of his earliest ambition
-was, as a missionary, to carry the blessings of the Gospel to the savages
-of North America, or to the Mahometans and heretics of Greece and
-Anatolia. The fears, however, or the hopes of his friends detained
-him at home, and after his ordination he confined himself for several
-years to the duties of the ministry in the parish of St. Sulpice.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>At the age of twenty-seven he was appointed superior of a society
-which had for its object the instruction and encouragement of female
-converts to the Church of Rome; and from this time he took up his
-abode with his uncle. In this house he first became known to Bossuet,
-by whose recommendation he was intrusted with the conduct of a mission,
-charged with the duty of reclaiming the Protestants in the province
-of Poitou, in the memorable year 1685, when the Huguenots were
-writhing under the infliction of the dragonnade, employed by the
-government to give full effect to the revocation of the edict of Nantes.
-Fenelon had no mind to have dragoons for his coadjutors, and
-requested that all show of martial terror might be removed from the
-places which he visited. His future proceedings were in strict conformity
-with this gentle commencement, and consequently exposed
-him to the harassing remonstrances of his superiors.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_138'>138</span>His services in Poitou were not acknowledged by any reward from
-the government, for Louis XIV. had begun to look coldly upon him;
-but it was not his fortune to remain long in obscurity. Amongst the
-visitors at his uncle’s house, whose friendship he had the happiness to
-gain, was the Duke de Beauvilliers, a man who could live at the
-court of Louis without ceasing to live as a Christian. This nobleman
-was appointed in the year 1689 Governor of the Duke of Burgundy, the
-grandson of Louis, and heir, after his father the Dauphin, to the throne
-of France. His first act was to appoint Fenelon preceptor to his
-royal charge, then in his eighth year, and already distinguished for the
-frightful violence of his passions, his insolent demeanour, and tyrannical
-spirit. The child had, however, an affectionate heart and a
-quick sense of shame. Fenelon gained his love and confidence, and
-used his power to impress upon him the Christian’s method of self-government.
-His headstrong pupil was subdued, not by the fear of
-man, but by the fear of God. In the task of instruction less difficulty
-awaited him; for the young prince was remarkably intelligent and
-industrious. The progress of a royal student is likely to be rated at
-his full amount by common fame; but there is reason to believe that
-in this case it was rapid and substantial.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>In 1694 he was presented to the Abbey of St. Valery, and two
-years afterwards promoted to the Archbishopric of Cambray, with a
-command that he should retain his office of preceptor, giving personal
-attendance only during the three months of absence from his diocese
-which the Canons allowed. In resigning his abbey, which from conscientious
-motives he refused to keep with his archbishopric, he was
-careful to assign such reasons as might not convey an indirect
-censure of the numerous pluralists among his clerical brethren.
-Probably this excess of delicacy, which it is easy to admire and
-difficult to justify, was hardly requisite in the case of many of the
-offenders. One of them, the Archbishop of Rheims, when informed of
-the conscientious conduct of Fenelon, made the following reply:
-“M. de Cambray with his sentiments does right in resigning his benefice,
-and I with my sentiments do very right in keeping mine.” This
-mode of defence is capable of very general application, and is in fact
-very generally used, being good for other cases beside that of pluralities.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>This preferment was the last mark of royal favour which he
-received. Louis was never cordially his friend, and there were many
-at court eager to convert him into an enemy. An opportunity was
-afforded by Fenelon’s connexion with Madame Guyon.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>It is well known that this lady was the great apostle of the Quietists,
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_139'>139</span>a sect of religionists, so called, because they studied to attain a state of
-perfect contemplation, in which the soul is the passive recipient of
-divine light. She was especially noted for her doctrine of pure love;
-she taught that Christian perfection consisted in a disinterested love of
-God, excluding the hope of happiness and fear of misery, and that this
-perfection was attainable by man. Fenelon first became acquainted
-with her at the house of his friend the Duke de Beauvilliers, and, convinced
-of the sincerity of her religion, was disposed to regard her
-more favourably from a notion that her religious opinions, against
-which a loud clamour had been raised, coincided very nearly with his
-own. It has been the fashion to represent him as her convert and
-disciple. The truth is, that he was deeply versed in the writings of
-the later mystics; men who, with all their extravagance, were perhaps
-the best representatives of the Christian character to be found among
-the Roman Catholics of their time. He considered the doctrine of
-Madame Guyon to be substantially the same with that of his favourite
-authors; and whatever appeared exceptionable in her expositions, he
-attributed to loose and exaggerated expression natural to her sex and
-character.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>The approbation of Fenelon gave currency to the fair Quietist
-amongst orthodox members of the church. At last the bishops began to
-take alarm: the clamour was renewed, and the examination of her
-doctrines solemnly intrusted to Bossuet and two other learned divines.
-Fenelon was avowedly her friend; yet no one hitherto had breathed
-a suspicion of any flaw in his orthodoxy. It was even during the
-examination, and towards the close of it, that he was promoted to the
-Archbishopric of Cambray. The blow came at length from the hand
-of his most valued friend. He had been altogether passive in the
-proceedings respecting Madame Guyon. Bossuet, who had been
-provoked into vehement wrath, and had resolved to crush her, was
-sufficiently irritated by this temperate neutrality. But when Fenelon
-found himself obliged to publish his ‘Maxims of the Saints,’ in which,
-without attacking others, he defends his own views of some of the
-controverted points, Bossuet, in a tumult of zeal, threw himself at the
-feet of Louis, denounced his friend as a dangerous fanatic, and
-besought the King to interpose the royal arm between the Church and
-pollution. Fenelon offered to submit his book to the judgment of the
-Pope. Permission was granted in very ungracious terms, and presently
-followed by a sentence of banishment to his diocese. This
-sudden reverse of fortune, which he received without even whispering
-a complaint, served to show the forbearance and meekness of his
-spirit, but it deprived him of none of his powers. An animated controversy
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_140'>140</span>arose between him and Bossuet, and all Europe beheld with
-admiration the boldness and success with which he maintained his
-ground against the renowned and veteran disputant; and that, too, in
-the face of fearful discouragement. The whole power of the court was
-arrayed against him, and he stood alone; for his powerful friends had
-left his side. The Cardinal de Noailles and others, who had in private
-expressed unqualified approbation of his book, meanly withheld a
-public acknowledgment of their opinions. Whilst his enemy enjoyed
-every facility, and had Louis and his courtiers and courtly bishops to
-cheer him on, it was with difficulty that Fenelon could find a printer
-who would venture to put to the press a work which bore his name.
-Under these disadvantages, harassed in mind, and with infirm health,
-he replied to the deliberate and artful attacks of his adversary with a
-rapidity which, under any circumstances, would have been astonishing.
-He was now gaining ground daily in public opinion. The Pope also,
-who knew his merit, was very unwilling to condemn. His persecutors
-were excited to additional efforts. He had already been banished from
-court; now he was deprived of the name of preceptor, and of his
-salary,—of that very salary which some time before he had eagerly
-offered to resign, in consideration of the embarrassed state of the royal
-treasury. The flagging zeal of the Pope was stimulated by threats
-conveyed in letters from Louis penned by Bossuet. At length the
-sentence of condemnation was obtained; but in too mild a form to
-satisfy altogether the courtly party. No bull was issued. A simple
-brief pronounced certain propositions to be erroneous and dangerous,
-and condemned the book which contained them, without sentencing it
-in the usual manner to the flames.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>It is needless to say that Fenelon submitted. He published without
-delay the sentence of condemnation, noting the selected propositions,
-and expressing his entire acquiescence in the judgment pronounced;
-and prohibited the faithful in his diocese from reading or having in their
-possession his own work, which up to that moment he had defended so
-manfully. Protestants, who are too apt in judging the conduct of
-Roman Catholics, to forget every thing but their zeal, have raised an
-outcry against his meanness and dissimulation. Fenelon was a sincere
-member of a Church which claimed infallibility. We may regret
-the thraldom in which such a mind was held by an authority from
-which the Protestant happily is free; but the censure which falls on
-him personally for this act is certainly misplaced.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>The faint hopes which his friends might have cherished, that when the
-storm had passed he would be restored to favour, were soon extinguished
-by an event, which, whilst it closed against him for ever the doors of
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_141'>141</span>the palace, secured him a place in history, and without which it is
-probable that he would never have become the subject even of a short
-memoir.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>A manuscript which he had intrusted to a servant to copy, was
-treacherously sold by this man to a printer in Paris, who immediately
-put it to the press, under the title of Continuation of the Fourth Book
-of the Odyssey, or Adventures of Telemachus, Son of Ulysses, with
-the royal privilege, dated April 6, 1699. It was told at court that the
-forthcoming work was from the pen of the obnoxious archbishop; and
-before the impression of the first volume was completed, orders were
-given to suppress it, to punish the printers, and seize the copies already
-printed. A few however escaped the hands of the police, and were
-rapidly circulated. One of them, together with a copy of the remaining
-part of the manuscript, soon after came into the possession of a printer
-at the Hague, who could publish it without danger.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>So eager was the curiosity which the violent proceedings of the
-French court had excited, that the press could hardly be made, with
-the utmost exertion, to keep pace with the demand. Such is the
-history of the first appearance of Telemachus.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Louis was persuaded to think that the whole book was intended to
-be a satire on him, his court, and government; and the world was
-persuaded for a time to think the same. So, whilst the wrath of the
-King was roused to the uttermost, all Europe was sounding forth the
-praises of Fenelon. The numerous enemies of Louis exulted at the supposed
-exhibition of his tyranny and profligate life. The philosophers were
-charmed with the liberal and enlightened views of civil government
-which they seemed to discover. It is now well known that the anger
-and the praise were alike undeserved. The book was probably written
-for the use of the Duke of Burgundy, certainly at a time when Fenelon
-enjoyed the favour of his sovereign, and was desirous to retain it. He
-may have forgotten that it was impossible to describe a good and a bad
-king, a virtuous and a profligate court, without saying much that would
-bear hard upon Louis and his friends. As for his political enlightenment,
-it is certain that he had his full share of the monarchical principles
-of his time and nation. He wished to have good kings, but he made
-no provision for bad ones. It is difficult to believe that Louis was
-seriously alarmed at his notions of political economy. That science
-was not in a very advanced state; but no one could fear that a prince
-could be induced by the lessons of his tutor to collect all the artificers
-of luxury in his capital, and drive them in a body into the fields to
-cultivate potatoes and cabbages, with a belief that he would thus make
-the country a garden, and the town a seat of the Muses.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_142'>142</span>Nothing was now left to Fenelon but to devote himself to his
-episcopal duties, which he seems to have discharged with equal zeal
-and ability. The course of his domestic life, as described by an eyewitness,
-was retired, and, to a remarkable degree, uniform. Strangers
-were courteously and hospitably received; but his society was confined
-for the most part to the ecclesiastics who resided in his house.
-Amongst them were some of his own relations, to whom he was
-tenderly attached, but for whose preferment, it should be noticed,
-he never manifested an unbecoming eagerness. His only recreation
-was a solitary walk in the fields, where it was his employment, as he
-observes to a friend, to converse with his God. If in his rambles he
-fell in with any of the poorer part of his flock, he would sit with them
-on the grass, and discourse about their temporal as well as their
-spiritual concerns; and sometimes he would visit them in their humble
-sheds, and partake of such refreshment as they offered him.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>In the beginning of the 18th century we find him engaged at once
-in controversy and politics. The revival of the old dispute with the
-Jansenists, to whom he was strongly opposed, obliged him to take up
-his pen; but in using it he never forgot his own maxim, that “rigour
-and severity are not of the spirit of the Gospel.” For a knowledge of
-his political labours we are indebted to his biographer, the Cardinal
-de Bausset, who first published his letters to the Duke de Beauvilliers
-on the subject of the war which followed the grand alliance in the
-year 1701. In them he not only considers the general questions of
-the succession to the Spanish monarchy, the objects of the confederated
-powers, and the measures best calculated to avert or soften
-their hostility, but even enters into details of military operations,
-discusses the merits of the various generals, stations the different
-armies, and sketches a plan of the campaign. Towards the close of
-the war he communicated to the Duke de Chevreuse heads of a very
-extensive reform in all the departments of government. This reform
-did not suppose any fundamental change of the old despotism. It was
-intended, doubtless, for the consideration of the Duke of Burgundy, to
-whose succession all France was looking forward with sanguine hopes,
-founded on the acknowledged excellence of his character, which
-Fenelon himself had so happily contributed to form. But amongst
-the other trials which visited his latter days, he was destined to mourn
-the death of his pupil.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Fenelon did not long survive the general pacification. After a short
-illness and intense bodily suffering, which he seems to have supported
-by calling to mind the sufferings of his Saviour, he died February 7th,
-1715, in the sixty-fourth year of his age. No money was found in his
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_143'>143</span>coffers. The produce of the sale of his furniture, together with the
-arrears of rent due to him, were appropriated, by his direction, to
-pious and charitable purposes.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>The calumnies with which he was assailed during the affair of
-Quietism were remembered only to the disadvantage of their authors.
-The public seem eventually to have regarded him as a man who was
-persecuted because he refused to be a persecutor; who had maintained,
-at all hazards, what he believed to be the cause of truth and justice;
-and had resigned his opinion only at that moment when conscience
-required the sacrifice.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Universal homage was paid by his contemporaries to his talents and
-genius. In the grasp and power of his intellect, and in the extent and
-completeness of his knowledge, none probably would have ventured to
-compare him with Bossuet; but in fertility and brilliancy of imagination,
-in a ready and dexterous use of his materials, and in that quality
-which his countrymen call esprit, he was supposed to have no superior.
-Bossuet himself said of him “<span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Il brille d’esprit, il est tout esprit, il en
-a bien plus que moi</span>.”</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>It is obvious that his great work, the Adventures of Telemachus,
-was, in the first instance, indebted for some portion of its popularity to
-circumstances which had no connexion with its merits; but we cannot
-attribute to the same cause the continued hold which it has maintained
-on the public favour. Those who are ignorant of the interest which
-attended its first appearance still feel the charm of that beautiful
-language which is made the vehicle of the purest morality and the most
-ennobling sentiments. In the many editions through which it passed,
-between its first publication and the death of the author, Fenelon took
-no concern. Publicly he neither avowed nor disavowed the work,
-though he prepared corrections and additions for future editors. All
-obstacles to its open circulation were removed by the death of Louis;
-and in the year 1717, the Marquis de Fenelon, his great-nephew,
-presented to Louis XV. a new and correct edition, superintended by
-himself, from which the text of all subsequent editions has been taken.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>The best authority for the life of Fenelon accessible to the public is
-the laborious work of his biographer, the Cardinal de Bausset, which
-is rendered particularly valuable by the great number of original
-documents which appear at the end of each volume. Its value would
-be increased if much of the theological discussion were omitted, and
-the four volumes compressed into three.</p>
-
-<div  class='figcenter id002'>
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_144'>144</span>
-<img src='images/i_144.jpg' alt='WREN' class='ig001' />
-</div>
-
-<div class='chapter'>
-  <h2 class='c006'>WREN</h2>
-</div>
-
-<p class='c011'>Christopher Wren, the most celebrated of British architects, was
-born at East Knoyle in Wiltshire, October 20, 1632. His father was
-Rector of that parish, Dean of Windsor, and Registrar of the Order of
-the Garter: his uncle, Dr. Matthew Wren, was successively Bishop of
-Hereford, of Norwich, and of Ely; and was one of the greatest sufferers
-for the royal cause during the Commonwealth, having been imprisoned
-nearly twenty years in the Tower without ever having been brought to
-trial. The political predilections of Wren’s family may be sufficiently
-understood from these notices; but he himself, although his leaning
-probably was to the side which had been espoused by his father and
-his uncle, seems to have taken no active part in state affairs. The period
-of his long life comprehended a series of the mightiest national convulsions
-and changes that ever took place in England—the civil war—the
-overthrow of the monarchy—the domination of Cromwell—the
-Restoration—the Revolution—the union with Scotland—and, finally,
-the accession of a new family to the throne; but we do not find that
-in the high region of philosophy and art in which he moved, he ever
-allowed himself to be either withdrawn from or interrupted in his
-course by any of these great events of the outer world.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>His health in his early years was extremely delicate. On this
-account he received the commencement of his education at home under
-the superintendence of his father and a domestic tutor. He was then
-sent to Westminster School, over which the celebrated Busby had just
-come to preside. The only memorial which we possess of Wren’s
-schoolboy days, is a dedication in Latin verse, addressed by him to
-his father in his thirteenth year, of an astronomical machine which
-he had invented, and which seems from his description to have been
-a sort of apparatus for representing the celestial motions, such as we
-now call an orrery. His genius is also stated to have displayed
-itself at this early age in other mechanical contrivances.</p>
-
-<div  class='figcenter id001'>
-<img src='images/i_144fp.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' />
-<div class='ic001'>
-<p><em>Engraved by W. Holl.</em><br /><br />SIR CHRISTOPHER WREN.<br /><br /><em>From the original picture by Sir G. Kneller, in the possession of the Royal Society.</em><br /><br />Under the Superintendance of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge.<br /><br /><em>London. Published by Charles Knight, Pall Mall East.</em></p>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_145'>145</span>In 1646 he was sent to Oxford, and entered as a gentleman commoner
-at Wadham College. Of his academical life we can say little
-more than that it confirmed the promise of his early proficiency. He
-was especially distinguished by his mathematical acquirements, and
-gained the notice and acquaintance of many of the most learned and
-influential persons belonging to the university. Several short treatises
-and mechanical inventions are assigned to this period of his life: but
-as these have long ceased to interest any but curious inquirers into the
-history of literature or science, we can only indicate their existence,
-and refer to other and more comprehensive works. In 1650 Wren
-graduated as Bachelor of Arts. He was elected Fellow of All Souls
-on the 2d of November, 1653, and took the degree of Master of
-Arts on the 12th of December in the same year. Of the subjects
-which engaged his active and versatile mind at this time, one
-of the chief was the science of Anatomy; and he is, on apparently
-good grounds, thought to have first suggested and tried the interesting
-experiment of injecting liquids of various kinds into the veins of living
-animals,—a process of surgery, which, applied to the transfusion of
-healthy blood into a morbid or deficient circulation, has been revived,
-not without some promise of important results, in our own day. Another
-subject which attracted much of his attention was the Barometer; but
-he has no claim whatever, either to the invention of that instrument, or
-to the detection of the great principle of physics, of which it is an
-exemplification. The notion which has been taken up of his right to
-supplant the illustrious Torricelli here, has arisen merely from mistaking
-the question with regard to the causes of the fluctuations in the
-height of the barometrical column, while the instrument continues in the
-same place, for the entirely different question as to the cause why the
-fluid remains suspended at all; about which, since the celebrated experiments
-of Pascal, published in 1647, there never has been any controversy.
-It was the former phenomenon only which was attributed by
-some to the influence of the moon, and which Wren and many of his
-contemporaries exercised their ingenuity, as many of their successors
-have done, in endeavouring to explain.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>In carrying on these investigations and experiments, Wren’s diligence
-was stimulated and assisted by his having been admitted a
-member, about this period, of that celebrated association of philosophical
-inquirers, out of whose meetings, begun some years before, eventually
-arose the Royal Society. But, like several others of the more eminent
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_146'>146</span>members, he was soon removed from the comparative retirement of
-Oxford. On the 7th of August, 1657, being then only in his twenty-fifth
-year, he was chosen to the Professorship of Astronomy in Gresham
-College. This chair he held till the 8th of March, 1661, when he
-resigned it in consequence of having, on the 31st of January preceding,
-received the appointment of Savilian Professor of Astronomy at Oxford.
-On the 12th of September, 1661, he took his degree of Doctor of Civil
-Law at Oxford, and was soon after admitted <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">ad eundem</span></i> by the sister
-university. During all this time he had continued to cultivate assiduously
-the various branches of mathematical and physical science, and
-to extend his reputation both by his lectures and by his communications
-to the “Philosophical Club,” as it was called, which, in 1658, had been
-transferred to London, and usually met on the Wednesday of every
-week at Gresham College, in Wren’s class-room, and, on the Thursday,
-in that of his associate Rooke, the Professor of Geometry. The longitude,
-the calculation of solar eclipses, and the examination and delineation
-of insects and animalcula by means of the microscope, may be
-enumerated among the subjects to which he is known to have devoted
-his attention. On the 15th of July, 1662<a id='r3' /><a href='#f3' class='c012'><sup>[3]</sup></a>, he and his associates were
-incorporated under the title of the Royal Society; and Wren, who
-drew out the preamble of the charter, bore a chief part in the effecting
-of this arrangement.</p>
-
-<div class='footnote' id='f3'>
-<p class='c000'><span class='label'><a href='#r3'>3</a>.&nbsp;&nbsp;</span>In the Life of Boyle this event is stated to have occurred in 1663. A <em>second</em> charter was
-granted to the Society, in that year, on the 22d of April.</p>
-</div>
-
-<p class='c000'>The future architect of St. Paul’s had already been called upon
-to devote a portion of his time to the professional exercise of that
-art from which he was destined to derive his greatest and most
-lasting distinction. Sir John Denham, the poet, had on the Restoration
-been rewarded for his services by the place of Surveyor of the
-Royal Works; but although, in his own words, he then gave over
-poetical lines, and made it his business to draw such others as might be
-more serviceable to his Majesty, and he hoped more lasting, it soon
-became apparent that his genius was much better suited to “build the
-lofty rhyme” than to construct more substantial edifices. In these
-circumstances Wren, who was known among his other accomplishments
-to be well acquainted with the principles of architecture, was
-sent for, and engaged to do the duties of the office in the capacity of
-Denham’s assistant or deputy. This was in the year 1661. It does
-not appear that for some time he was employed in any work of consequence
-in his new character; and in 1663 it was proposed to send
-him out to Africa, to superintend the construction of a new harbour
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_147'>147</span>and fortifications at the town of Tangier, which had been recently
-made over by Portugal to the English Crown, on the marriage of
-Charles with the Infanta Catherine. This employment he wisely
-declined, alleging the injury he apprehended to his health from a
-residence in Africa. Meanwhile, the situation which he held, and his
-scientific reputation, began to bring him something to do at home.
-Sheldon, Archbishop of Canterbury, who was Chancellor of the University
-of Oxford, had resolved to erect at his own expense a new
-theatre, or hall, for the public meetings of the University; and this
-building Wren was commissioned to design. The Sheldonian Theatre,
-celebrated for its unrivalled roof of eighty feet in length by seventy in
-breadth, supported without either arch or pillar, was Wren’s first public
-work, having been begun this year, although it was not finished till
-1668. About the same time he was employed to erect a new chapel
-for Pembroke College, in the University of Cambridge, to be built at
-the charge of his uncle, the Bishop of Ely.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>But, while he was about to commence these buildings, he was
-appointed to take a leading part in another work, which ultimately
-became the principal occupation of the best years of his life, and
-enabled him to afford to his contemporaries and to posterity by far
-the most magnificent display of his architectural skill and genius.
-Ever since the Restoration, the repair of the Metropolitan Cathedral
-of St. Paul’s, which during the time of the Commonwealth had
-been surrendered to the most deplorable desecration and outrage,
-had been anxiously contemplated; and on the 18th of April, 1663,
-letters patent were at length issued by the King, appointing a
-number of Commissioners, among whom Wren was one, to superintend
-the undertaking. Under their direction a survey of the state
-of the building was taken, and some progress was made in the reparation
-of its most material injuries, when, after the sum of between
-three and four thousand pounds had been expended, the great fire,
-which broke out on the night of Sunday, the 2d of September, 1666,
-on the following day reduced the whole pile to a heap of ruins.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>A considerable part of the year before this Wren had spent in
-Paris, having proceeded thither, it would seem, about Midsummer,
-1665, and remained till the following spring. The object of his visit
-was to improve himself in the profession in which he had embarked,
-by the inspection and study of the various public buildings which
-adorned the French capital, where the celebrated Bernini was at this
-time employed on the Louvre, with a thousand workmen under him,
-occupied in all the various departments of the art, and forming altogether,
-in Wren’s opinion, probably the best school of architecture to
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_148'>148</span>be then found in Europe. He appears accordingly to have employed
-his time, with his characteristic activity, in examining everything
-deserving of attention in the city and its neighbourhood; and lost
-no opportunity either of making sketches of remarkable edifices himself,
-or of procuring them from others, so that, as he writes to one
-of his correspondents, he hoped to bring home with him almost all
-France on paper. The terrible visitation, which a few months after
-his return laid half the metropolis of his native country in ashes,
-opened to him a much wider field whereon to exercise the talent which
-he had been thus eager to cultivate and strengthen by enlarged knowledge,
-than he could, while so engaged, have expected ever to possess.
-He was not slow to seize the opportunity; and while the ashes of the
-city were yet alive, drew up a plan for its restoration, the leading
-features of which were a broad street running from Aldgate to Temple
-Bar, with a large square for the reception of the new cathedral of
-St. Paul; and a range of handsome quays along the river. The paramount
-necessity of speed in restoring the dwellings of a houseless
-multitude, prevented the adoption of this project; and the new streets
-were in general formed nearly on the line of the old ones. But they
-were widened and straightened, and the houses were built of brick
-instead of wood.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Soon after the fire, Wren was appointed Surveyor-General and
-principal Architect for rebuilding the parish churches; and on the
-28th of March, 1669, a few days after the death of Sir John Denham,
-he was made Surveyor-General of the Royal Works, the office which
-he had for some time executed as deputy. On the 30th of July he
-was unanimously chosen Surveyor-General of the repairs of St. Paul’s
-(another office which Denham had also held) by the commissioners
-appointed to superintend that work, of whom he was himself one. At
-first it was still thought possible to repair the cathedral; and a part of it
-was actually fitted up as a temporary choir, and service performed in it.
-After some time, however, it became evident that the only way in
-which it could ever be restored was by rebuilding the whole from the
-foundation. Before the close of the year 1672 Wren had prepared
-and submitted to the King different plans for the new church; and
-his Majesty having fixed upon the one which he preferred, a commission
-for commencing the work was issued on the 12th of November,
-1673. On the 20th of the same month, Wren, who had been
-re-appointed architect for the work, and also one of the commissioners,
-was knighted at Whitehall, having resigned his professorship at
-Oxford in the preceding April.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>During the space of time which had elapsed since the fire, the
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_149'>149</span>Surveyor-General of Public Works had begun or finished various
-minor buildings connected with the restoration of the city, and also
-some in other parts of the kingdom. Among the former may be
-mentioned the fine column called the Monument; the church of St.
-Mary-le-Bow in Cheapside, the spire of which is considered the most
-beautiful he ever constructed, and a masterpiece of science, both
-begun in 1671, and finished in 1677; and the church of St. Stephens,
-Walbrook, begun 1672, and finished in 1679, the interior of which is
-one of the most exquisite specimens of architectural art which the
-world contains, and has excited, perhaps, more enthusiastic admiration
-than anything else that Wren has done. During the whole of
-this time, too, notwithstanding the little leisure which his professional
-avocations must have left him, he appears to have continued his philosophical
-pursuits, and his attendance on the Royal Society, of which,
-from the first, he had been one of the most active and valuable members.
-His communications, and the experiments which he suggested,
-embraced some of the profoundest parts of astronomy and the mathematics,
-as well as various points in anatomy and natural history, and
-the chemical and mechanical arts.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>The design which Wren had prepared for the new Cathedral,
-and which had been approved by the King, being that of which a
-model is still preserved in an apartment over the Morning-Prayer
-Chapel, did not in some respects please the majority of his brother-commissioners,
-who insisted that, in order to give the building the
-true cathedral form, the aisles should be added at the sides as they now
-stand, although the architect is said to have felt so strongly the injury
-done by that alteration, that he actually shed tears in speaking of it.
-This difficulty, however, being at length settled, his Majesty, on the
-14th May, 1675, issued his warrant for immediately commencing the
-work; and accordingly, after a few weeks more had been spent in
-throwing down the old walls and removing the rubbish, the first stone
-was laid by Sir Christopher, assisted by his master-mason, Mr. Thomas
-Strong, on the 21st of June. From this time the building proceeded
-steadily till its completion in 1710; in which year the highest
-stone of the lantern on the cupola was laid by Mr. Christopher Wren,
-the son of the architect, as representing his venerable father, now in
-the seventy-eighth year of his age.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>The salary which Sir Christopher Wren received as architect of St.
-Paul’s was only £200 a year. Yet in the last years of his superintendence
-a moiety of this pittance was withheld from him by the Commissioners,
-under the authority of a clause which they had got inserted
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_150'>150</span>in an act of parliament entitling them to keep back the money till the
-work should be finished, by way of thereby ensuring the requisite
-expedition in the architect. Even after the building had been actually
-completed, they still continued, on the same pretence, to refuse payment
-of the arrears due, alleging that certain things yet remained
-to be done, which, after all, objections and difficulties interposed by
-themselves alone prevented from being performed. Like his great
-predecessor, Michael Angelo, Wren was too honest and zealous in the
-discharge of his duty not to have provoked the enmity of many persons
-who had their private ends to serve in the discharge of a great public
-duty. He was at last obliged to petition the Queen on the subject of
-the treatment to which he was subjected; but it was not till after a
-struggle of some years that he succeeded in obtaining redress. The
-faction by whom he was thus opposed even attempted to blacken his
-character by a direct charge of peculation, or at least of connivance at
-that crime, in a pamphlet entitled ‘Frauds and Abuses at St. Paul’s,’
-which appeared in 1712, and in reference to which Sir Christopher
-deemed it proper to appeal to the public in an anonymous reply
-published the year after, wherein he vindicated himself triumphantly
-from the aspersions which had been thrown upon him.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>The other architectural works which he designed and executed
-during this period, both in London and elsewhere, are far too numerous
-to be mentioned in detail. Among them were the parish church of St.
-Bride, in Fleet Street, which was finished in 1680, and the beautiful
-spire of which, originally two hundred and thirty-four feet in height,
-has been deemed to rival that of St. Mary-le-Bow; the church of St.
-James, Westminster, finished in 1683, a building in almost all its parts
-not more remarkable for its beauty than for its scientific construction;
-and of which the roof especially, both for its strength and elegance, and
-for its adaptation to the distinct conveyance of sound, has been reckoned
-a singularly happy triumph of art; and the church of St. Andrew,
-Holborn, a fine specimen of a commodious and an imposing interior:
-besides many others of inferior note. In 1696 he commenced the
-building of the present Hospital at Greenwich, of which he lived to
-complete the greater part. This is undoubtedly one of the most splendid
-erections of our great architect. Among his less successful works
-may be enumerated Chelsea Hospital, begun in 1682, and finished
-in 1690, a plain, but not an inelegant building; his additions to the
-Palace of Hampton Court, carried on from 1690 to 1694, which are
-certainly not in the best taste; and his repairs at Westminster Abbey,
-of which he was appointed Surveyor-General in 1698. In his attempt
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_151'>151</span>to restore and complete this venerable edifice, his ignorance of the principles
-of the Gothic style, and his want of taste for its peculiar beauties,
-made him fail perhaps more egregiously than on any other occasion.
-In 1679 he completed the Library of Trinity College, Cambridge,
-one of the most magnificent of his works; and in 1683, the Chapel
-of Queen’s College, and the Ashmolean Museum, at Oxford. The
-same year he began the erection of the extensive pile of Winchester
-Castle, originally intended for a royal palace, but now used as a
-military barrack. To these works are to be added a long list of halls for
-the city companies, and other public buildings, as well as a considerable
-number of private edifices. Among the latter was Marlborough House,
-Pall-Mall. Indeed scarcely a building of importance was undertaken
-during this long period which he was not called upon to design or
-superintend. The activity both of mind and body must have been
-extraordinary, which enabled him to accomplish what he did, not to
-speak of the ready and fertile ingenuity, and the inexhaustible sources
-of invention and science he must have possessed, to meet the incessant
-demands that were made for new and varying displays of his contriving
-skill. It appears, too, in addition to all this, that the duties imposed
-upon him by his place of Surveyor of Public Works, for which he only
-received a salary of £100 a year, were of an extremely harassing
-description, and must have consumed a great deal of his time. Claims
-and disputes as to rights of property, and petitions or complaints in
-regard to the infringement of the building regulations in every part of
-the metropolis and its vicinity, seem to have been constantly submitted
-to his examination and adjudication; and Mr. Elmes has printed many
-of his reports upon these cases from the original manuscripts, which
-afford striking evidence both of the promptitude with which he gave
-his attention to the numerous calls thus made upon him, and of the
-large expenditure of time and labour they must have cost him.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>The long series of years during which Wren was occupied in the
-accomplishment of his greatest work, and which had conducted him
-from the middle stage of life to old age, brought to him also of course
-various other changes. He had been twice married, and had become
-the father of two sons and a daughter, of whom the eldest, Christopher,
-was the author of Parentalia, or Memoirs of the Family of the Wrens.
-In 1680, he was elected to the Presidency of the Royal Society, on its
-being declined by Mr. Boyle; and this honourable office he held for
-two years; during which, notwithstanding all his other occupations,
-we find him occupying the chair in person at almost every meeting,
-and still continuing to take his usual prominent part in the scientific
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_152'>152</span>discussions of the evening. In 1684 there was added to his other
-appointments that of Comptroller of the Works at Windsor. In May,
-1685, he entered parliament as one of the members for Plympton;
-and he also sat for Windsor both in the convention which met after
-the revolution, and in the first parliament of William III. He afterwards
-sat for Weymouth in the parliament which met in February,
-1700, and which was dissolved in November of the year following.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>The evening of Wren’s life was marked by neglect and ingratitude.
-In the eighty-sixth year of his age he was removed from the office of
-Surveyor-General, which he had held for forty-nine years, in favour of
-one Benson, whose incapacity and dishonesty soon led to his disgrace
-and dismissal. Fortunately Wren’s temper was too happy and placid
-to be affected by the loss of court favour, and he retired to his home at
-Hampton Court, where he spent the last five years of his life chiefly in
-the study of the Scriptures, and the revision of his philosophical works.
-He died February 25, 1723, in the ninety-first year of his age.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>More minute accounts of his life are to be found in the Parentalia,
-already mentioned, and in Mr. Elmes’s quarto volume. We may also
-refer the reader to a longer memoir in the Library of Useful
-Knowledge.</p>
-
-<div  class='figcenter id001'>
-<img src='images/i_152.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' />
-<div class='ic001'>
-<p>Interior of St. Stephen’s, Walbrook.</p>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<div  class='figcenter id001'>
-<img src='images/i_153fp.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' />
-<div class='ic001'>
-<p><em>Engraved by T. Woolnoth.</em><br /><br />CORNEILLE.<br /><br /><em>From an original Picture by C. Lebrun in the possession of the Institute of France.</em><br /><br />Under the Superintendance of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge.<br /><br /><em>London. Published by Charles Knight, Pall Mall East.</em></p>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<div  class='figcenter id002'>
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_153'>153</span>
-<img src='images/i_153.jpg' alt='CORNEILLE' class='ig001' />
-</div>
-
-<div class='chapter'>
-  <h2 class='c006'>CORNEILLE</h2>
-</div>
-
-<p class='c011'>Peter Corneille was born at Rouen, on the 6th of June, 1606.
-His father was in the profession of the law, and held an office of trust
-under Louis XIII. Young Corneille was educated in the Jesuits’
-College at Rouen; and, while there, formed an attachment to that
-society, which he maintained unimpaired in after-life. He was destined
-for the bar, at which he practised for a short time, but had no
-turn for business; and with better warrant than the many, who mistake
-a lazy and vagabond inclination for genius and the muse, he quitted the
-path of ambition and preferment for a road to fame, shorter, and therefore
-better suited to an aspiring, but impatient mind. A French writer
-congratulates his country, that he who would have made an obscure
-and ill-qualified provincial barrister, became, by change of place and
-pursuits, the glory and ornament of a great empire in its most splendid
-day. Corneille “left his calling for an idle trade,” without having
-bespoken the favour of the public by any minor specimens of poetical
-talent. He seems indeed to have hung loose upon society, till a petty
-affair of gallantry discovered the mine of his natural genius, though
-not in his purest and richest vein. The story is told by Fontenelle,
-and has been related of many others with nearly the same incidents;
-being the common-place of youthful adventure. One of Corneille’s
-friends had introduced him to his intended wife; and the lady, without
-any imputation of treachery on the part of the supplanter, took such a
-fancy to him, as induced her to play the jilt towards his introducer.
-Corneille moulded the embarrassment into a comedy entitled Melite.
-The drama had hitherto been at a low ebb among the French. Their
-tragedy was flat and languid: to comedy, properly so called, they had no
-pretensions. The theatre therefore had hitherto been little attended by
-persons of condition. Racine describes the French stage when Corneille
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_154'>154</span>began to write, as absolutely without order or regularity, taste or
-knowledge, as to what constituted the real merits of the drama. The
-writers, he says, were as ignorant as the spectators. Their subjects
-were extravagant and improbable; neither manners nor characters
-were delineated. The diction was still more faulty than the action;
-the wit was confined to the lowest puns. In short, all the rules of
-art, even those of decency and propriety, were violated. This description
-gives us the history of the infant drama in all ages and countries;
-of Thespis in his cart, and of Gammer Gurton’s needle.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>While the French theatre was in this state of degradation, Melite
-appeared. Whatever its faults might be, there was something in it
-like originality of character; some indications of a comic vein, and
-some ingenious combinations. The public hailed the new era with
-delight, and the poet was astonished at his own success. The stage
-seemed all at once to flourish and to have taken its proper station
-among the elegant arts and rational amusements. On the strength of
-this acquisition, a new company of actors was formed; and the successful
-experiment was followed up by a series of pieces of the
-same kind, between the years 1632 and 1635. Imperfect as they
-were, we may trace in them some sketches of new character, which
-the more methodical and practised dramatists of a later period filled
-out with more skill and higher colouring, but with little claim to
-invention.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>We owe to Corneille one of the most entertaining personages in
-modern comedy,—the Chambermaid; who has succeeded to the office
-of the Nurse in the elder drama. This change was partly, perhaps
-principally, produced by that great revolution in the modern stage
-which introduced women upon the boards. While female characters
-were consigned to male representatives, the poet took every opportunity
-of throwing his heroines into breeches to slur over the awkwardness of
-the boys; and the subordinate instruments of the plot were duly
-enveloped in the hoods and flannels of decrepit age, while the hard
-features of the adult male were easily manufactured into wrinkles.
-But when once real women were brought forward, they had their own
-interests to manage as well as those of the author; and the artificial
-disguise of their persons would ill have accorded with those speculations,
-of which personal beauty formed a main ingredient. It was their
-business therefore, while they conducted the love-affairs of their mistresses,
-to interweave an underplot between themselves and the valets.
-Less attractive perhaps than their young ladies in outward show, they
-obtained compensation in the piquancy of wit intrusted to their
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_155'>155</span>delivery, and thus divided the interest among the spectators in no
-disadvantageous proportion.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Corneille was also the first who brought the dialogue of polished
-society upon the French stage, which had hitherto been confined to the
-vulgarities of low comedy or the bombast of inflated tragedy. But it
-is time to rescue him from the obscurity of his own early compositions.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>His first tragedy was Medea, copied principally from the faulty
-model of Seneca, whose prolix declamation, thus early adopted, probably
-exercised an unfavourable influence on the after fortunes of the national
-tragedy. His nephew Fontenelle, indeed, says that “he took flight at
-once, and soared instantly to the sublime.” But this sentence has not
-been confirmed by more impartial critics. The Continent has condemned
-the witchcraft; but we are bound to uphold it in defence of
-our own Shakspeare, who has clothed his hags with more picturesque
-and awful attributes than the magnificent and imperial sorceries of
-Corneille, Seneca, or even Euripides himself have exhibited.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>The year 1637 was the era of the production of the Cid; the play
-not only of France, but of Europe, for it has been translated into most
-languages. But a sudden reputation involves its possessor in many
-vexations. Poets were in those days compelled to be courtiers, if they
-would prosper. At the Hotel de Rambouillet, an assembly was held,
-consisting of courtly and fashionable authors, who wasted their time in
-composing <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">thèses d’amour</span></i> and other fopperies of romantic literature.
-Over this society, as well as over the politics of Europe, Richelieu chose
-to be umpire. He was also the founder of the French Academy, and
-the avowed patron of its members. With this hold upon their good
-manners, he kept four authors in pay, for the purpose of filling out his
-own dramatic and poetical skeletons. Corneille consented to be one
-of the party, and was so ignorant of the ways of courts as to fancy that
-he might exercise his judgment independently. He was even simple
-enough to be astonished that the well-meant liberty of making
-some alterations in the plot of one of these ministerial dramas should
-give offence: but as he was too proud to surrender his own judgment,
-or to risk future affronts from the revulsion of the Cardinal’s goodwill,
-he withdrew from the palace, and abandoned himself to uncontrolled
-intercourse with the Muse. Richelieu therefore became the principal
-instigator of a cabal, which the envy of the wits sufficiently inclined
-them to form. Under such auspices, they entered into a conspiracy
-against the uncourtly offender. The prime minister could not endure
-that the successful intriguer in political life should be taxed with
-failure in unravelling the intricacies of a fictitious interest: he therefore
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_156'>156</span>looked at the real defects in a performance approved by the
-public with a jaundiced eye, and with but a half-opened one at its
-unrivalled beauties. As universal patron, he had settled a pension
-on the poet; but he levelled insidious and clandestine shafts against
-his fame. The “irritable tribe” willingly ran to arms, with Scuderi
-at their head, who wrote hostile remarks on the Cid, addressed to
-the Academy in the form of an appeal, in the course of which he
-quaintly termed himself <em>the evangelist of truth</em>. According to the
-statutes of the Academy, that august body could not take upon itself the
-decision, without the consent of both parties. Corneille, however
-indignant professionally, was under too many personal obligations to
-the Cardinal to spurn the authority of a tribunal erected by him. He
-therefore gave his assent to the reference, but in terms of considerable
-haughtiness. The Academy drew up a critique, to which they gave
-the modest title of “Sentiments of the French Academy on the tragicomedy
-of the Cid.” In the execution of this delicate commission, the
-learned members contrived to reconcile the demands of sound taste and
-criticism with the tact and suppleness of courtiers. They gratified the
-splenetic temper of the minister by censures, the justice of which could
-not be gainsayed: but they praised the beauties of the great scenes with
-a nobleness of panegyric, which took from the author all right to complain
-of partiality. This solemn judgment was given after five months of
-debate and negotiation between the Cardinal and the academicians, who
-dreaded official frowns if they wholly acquitted, and public disgust if
-they condemned against evidence. If it be considered that this infant
-institution owed its birth to Richelieu, and depended on him for its
-future growth, the verdict is highly honourable to the individuals, and
-creditable to the literary character, even when disadvantageously circumstanced
-by being entangled in the trammels of a court.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Our limits will not permit the examination of insulated passages, nor
-even individual tragedies: but independently of the splendour of the
-execution, other circumstances attending the career of the <em>Cid</em> produced
-a strong impression on the remainder of Corneille’s dramatic life.
-The Cid was taken from two Spanish plays, and several passages were
-actual translations; but not in sufficient number to invalidate the
-author’s claim to a large share of originality. To set that question at
-rest, in the editions published by himself, he gave the passages taken
-from the Spanish at the bottom of the page. Yet it was objected by
-his rivals and libellers, that the author of Medea and the Cid could
-only imitate or translate: that he had stolen the first of his tragedies
-from Seneca, the second from Guillen de Castro: a clever borrower,
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_157'>157</span>without a spark of tragic genius or invention! Unluckily for this bold
-assertion, among other European languages, this French play was
-translated into Spanish; and the nation, whence the piece was professedly
-derived, thought it worth while to recover it in the dress given
-to it by an illustrious foreigner. Against such unfounded censures it
-will be sufficient to quote the authority of Boileau, who speaks of the
-Cid as a <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">merveille naissante</span></i>.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Having achieved his first great success on a Spanish subject and
-after a Spanish model, it is not improbable that, had all gone smoothly,
-he would have continued to draw his resources from the same fountain.
-But vexation and resentment, usually at variance with good policy, now
-conspired with it; and put him on seeking a new road to fame. He
-had, as it should seem, intended to transplant a succession of Spanish
-histories and fables, with all the entanglement of Spanish contrivance
-in the weaving of plots. But in weighing the objections started against
-his piece, he found that they applied rather to his Spanish originals
-than to his own adaptation; he therefore determined to cut the knot of
-future controversy, by adopting the severity of the classical model.
-To this we owe Horace, Pompée, Cinna, and Polyeucte;—masterpieces
-which his more polished but more feeble successors in vain aspired to
-emulate. Thus did this eager war of criticism produce a crisis in the
-dramatic history of France. Its stage would probably, but for this,
-have been heroic and chivalrous, not, as it is, Roman, and after the
-manner of the ancients. It might even have rivalled our own in tragicomedy;—that
-monster stigmatized by Voltaire as the offspring of
-barbarism, although, and perhaps because, he “pilfered snug” from it;
-and might hope, by undervaluing the article, to escape detection as the
-purloiner.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>At the end of three years, devoted to the study of the ancients, the
-injured author avenged the injuries levelled against the Cid by the production
-of Horace. Although the impetuous poet had not yet subdued
-his genius to the trammels of just arrangement, unity of action, and the
-other severe rules of the classic drama, such was the originality of
-conception, the force of character, and grandeur of sentiment displayed
-in this performance, that new views of excellence were opened to the
-astonished audience. Voltaire, with all the pedantry of mechanical
-criticism, objects to Horace, that in it there are three tragedies instead
-of one. Whatever may be the force of this objection with the French,
-it will weigh little with a people inured to the irregular sublimity and
-unfettered splendour of Shakspeare. Cinna redeemed many of the
-errors of Horace, and improved upon its various merits. The suffrages
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_158'>158</span>of the public were divided between it and Polyeucte, as the author’s
-masterpiece. But Dryden considered the Cid and China as his two
-best plays; and speaks of Polyeucte sarcastically, as “in matters of
-religion, as solemn as the long stops upon our organs.”</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Before the performance of Polyeucte, Corneille read it at the Hotel
-de Rambouillet. That tribunal affected sovereign authority in affairs of
-wit. Even the reputation of the author, now in all its splendour, could
-no further command the civilities of the critics, than to “damn with
-faint praise.” Some days afterwards, Voiture called on Corneille,
-and, after much complimentary circumlocution, took the liberty of just
-hinting, that its success was not likely to answer expectation: above
-all, that its <em>Christian spirit</em> was calculated to give offence. Corneille,
-much alarmed, was about to withdraw it from rehearsal: the persuasions
-of an inferior player spirited him up to risk the consequences
-of avowing himself a Christian in an infidel court. Thus, probably, a
-hanger-on of the theatre had the honour of preventing a repetition of
-that malice, by which rival wits attempted to arrest the career of
-the Cid.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>The winter of 1641–42 produced <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">La Mort de Pompée</span> and <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Le
-Menteur</span>.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>The opening of La Mort de Pompée has been frequently commended
-for grandeur of conception and originality; and the skill cannot be
-denied, by which the enunciation of the circumstances producing the
-interest of the piece is rendered consistent with the dignity of the subject
-and characters. The same praise cannot be conceded to the inflation of
-the dialogue and the intolerable length of the speeches. But the concluding
-speech of Cæsar to the second scene of the third act, and the
-whole of the fourth act, notwithstanding the censure of Dryden, both on
-this tragedy and the Cinna, that “they are not so properly to be called
-plays, as long discourses of reason and state,” may be selected as
-favourable specimens of the style and power of French dialogue.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>A short notice will be sufficient for the comedy of Corneille; and the
-production of Le Menteur, his most celebrated piece, affords the fittest
-opportunity. As the Cid was imitated from Guillen de Castro, Lopé
-de Vega furnished the groundwork of Le Menteur. It is considered
-to be the first genuine example of the comedy of intrigue and character
-in France; for Melite was at best but a mere attempt. Before this
-time, there was no unsophisticated nature, no conventional manners, no
-truth of delineation. Mirth was raised by extravagance, and curiosity
-by incidents bordering on the impossible. Corneille appealed to nature
-and to truth: however imperfect the execution, in comparison with that
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_159'>159</span>of his next successor in comedy, he proved that he knew how Thalia as
-well as Melpomene ought to be drawn. The greatest compliment,
-perhaps, that can be paid to his genius is, that he pointed out the road
-both to Racine and Moliere.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>The year 1645 gave birth to Rodogune, in which, having before touched
-the springs of wonder and pity, he worked on his audience by the more
-powerful engine of terror. His subsequent pieces were below his
-former level, and betrayed, not so much the decay of genius from the
-growing infirmities of nature, as that fatal mistake in <em>writing themselves
-out</em>, so common to authors in the province of imagination. The cold
-reception of Pertharite disgusted the poet, and he renounced the stage
-in a splenetic little preface to the printed play, complaining that “he
-had been an author too long to be a fashionable one.” The turmoil of
-the court and the gaiety of the theatre had not effaced his early sentiments
-of piety and religion; he therefore betook himself to the translation
-of Kempis’s Imitation of Jesus Christ, which he performed very finely.
-This gave rise to a ridiculous and unfounded story, that the first book
-was imposed on him as a penance; the second, by the Queen’s command;
-and the third, by the terrors of conscience during a severe illness.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>As the mortification of failure faded away with time, his passion
-for the theatre revived. Notwithstanding some misgivings, he was
-encouraged by Fouquet Destrin in 1659, after six years’ absence. He
-began again, with more benefit to his popularity than to his true fame,
-with Œdipus;—the noblest and most pathetic subject, most nobly
-treated, of ancient tragedy. La Toison d’Or came next; a spectacle
-got up for the King’s marriage;—a species of piece in which the poet
-always plays a subordinate part to the scene-painter and the dressmaker.
-Sertorius is to be noticed as having given scope to the fine
-declamatory powers of Mademoiselle Clairon, the Siddons of the French
-stage.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Berenice rose to an unenviable fame, principally in consequence of
-the following circumstances. Henrietta of England, then Duchess of
-Orleans, whom Fontenelle had the good manners to compliment as “a
-princess who had a high relish for works of genius, and had been able
-to call forth some sparks of it <em>even in a barbarous country</em>,” privately
-set Corneille and Racine to work on the same subject. Their pieces
-were represented at the same time; and the struggle between a worn-out
-veteran and a champion in the vigour of youth, terminated, as
-might have been expected, in the victory of the latter. This literary
-contest was known by the title of “the duel.” The experiment proves
-the love of mischief, but says little for the good taste or benevolence
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_160'>160</span>of the royal instigator. Pulchérie and Surena were his last productions:
-both better than Berenice, with sufficient merit to render the
-close of his literary life respectable, if not splendid.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>The personal history of Corneille furnishes little anecdote; we have
-only further to state, that he was chosen a Member of the French
-Academy in 1647, and was Dean of that society at the time of his
-death, which took place in 1684, in his seventy-ninth year.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>He is said to have been a man of a devout and melancholy cast. He
-spoke little in company, even on subjects which his pursuits had made
-his own. The author of ‘<span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Melanges d’Histoire et du Literature</span>,’ a
-work published under the name of Vigneut Marville, but really written
-by the Pêre Bonaventure d’Ayounne, a Cistercian monk of Paris, says,
-that “the first time he saw him, he took him for a tradesman of Rouen.
-His conversation was so heavy as to be extremely tiresome if it lasted
-long.” But whatever might be the outward coarseness or dulness of
-the man, he was mild of temper in his family, a good husband, parent,
-and friend. His worth and integrity were unquestionable; nor had
-his connexion with the court, of which he was not fond, taught him that
-art of cringing so necessary to fortune and promotion. Hence his
-reputation was almost the only advantage accruing to him from his
-productions. His works have been often printed, and consist of more
-than thirty plays, tragedies and comedies.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Those who wish for a more detailed account of this great writer will
-find it in his life, by Fontenelle, in Voltaire’s several prefaces, in
-Racine’s Speech to the French Academy on the admission of his brother
-Thomas, and in Bayle. Many scattered remarks on him may also be
-found throughout Dryden’s critical prefaces.</p>
-
-<div  class='figcenter id002'>
-<img src='images/i_160.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' />
-<div class='ic001'>
-<p>Tragic Masks, from Pompeii.</p>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<div  class='figcenter id001'>
-<img src='images/i_161fp.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' />
-<div class='ic001'>
-<p><em>Engraved by W. T. Fry.</em><br /><br />HALLEY<br /><br /><em>From an original Picture ascribed to Dahl in the possession of the Royal Society.</em><br /><br />Under the Superintendance of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge.<br /><br /><em>London. Published by Charles Knight, Pall Mall East.</em></p>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<div  class='figcenter id002'>
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_161'>161</span>
-<img src='images/i_161.jpg' alt='HALLEY.' class='ig001' />
-</div>
-
-<div class='chapter'>
-  <h2 class='c006'>HALLEY</h2>
-</div>
-
-<p class='c011'>Edmund Halley, one of the greatest astronomers of an age which
-produced many, was born at a country house named Haggerston, in the
-parish of St. Leonard, Shoreditch, October 29, 1656. His father, a
-wealthy citizen and soap-boiler, intrusted the care of his son’s education
-to Dr. Gale, master of St. Paul’s School. Here young Halley applied
-himself to the study of mathematics and astronomy with what was
-then considered great success; for, before he left school, he understood
-the use of the celestial globe, and could construct a sun-dial;
-and, as he has himself informed us, had already observed the variation
-of the needle. In 1673, being in the seventeenth year of his age, he
-was entered of Queen’s College, Oxford, and two years afterwards
-gave the first proof of his astronomical genius by publishing, in the
-Philosophical Transactions, 1676, “a direct and geometrical method
-of finding the Aphelia and Eccentricities of the Planets.” His father,
-who seems to have had none of that antipathy to a son’s engaging
-in literary or scientific pursuits, which is represented as common
-to men of commerce by the writers of that age, supplied him liberally
-with astronomical instruments. Thus assisted, he made many observations,
-particularly of Jupiter and Saturn, by means of which
-he discovered that the motion of Saturn was slower, and that of
-Jupiter quicker than could be accounted for by the existing tables;
-and made some progress in correcting those tables accordingly. But
-he soon found that nothing could be done without a good catalogue of
-the stars. This, it appears, he had some intention of forming; but
-finding that Hevelius and Flamsteed were already employed on the
-same work, he proposed to himself to proceed to the southern hemisphere,
-and to complete the design by observing those stars which
-never rise above the horizons of Dantzic and Greenwich. Having
-obtained his father’s consent, and an allowance of £300 a-year; and
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_162'>162</span>having fixed upon St. Helena as the most convenient spot, he applied
-to Sir Joseph Williamson and Sir Jonas Moor, the Secretary of State
-and the Surveyor of the Ordnance. These gentlemen represented his
-intention in a favourable light to Charles II., and also to the East-India
-Company, who promised him every assistance in their power.
-Thus protected, he set out for St. Helena in 1676; his principal instruments
-being a sextant of five feet and a half radius, and a telescope of
-twenty-four feet in length. He found the climate not so favourable
-as he had been led to believe, and moreover describes himself as disgusted
-with the treatment he received from the Governor. Under
-these disadvantages, he nevertheless formed a catalogue of 350 stars,
-which he afterwards published under the name of ‘<span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Catalogus Stellarum
-Australium</span>.’ He called a new constellation which he had observed,
-by the title of <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Robur Carolinum</span></i>, in honour of the well-known oak of
-Charles II. While at St. Helena he also observed a transit of
-Mercury, and suggested the use which might be made of similar
-phenomena in the determination of the sun’s distance from the earth.
-He first observed the necessity of shortening the pendulum as it
-approached the equator; or, at least, when Hook afterwards mentioned
-the circumstance to Newton, it was the first time the latter had heard
-of the fact.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Soon after his return to England, in November, 1678, Halley
-obtained the degree of M.A. from the University of Oxford, by
-royal mandate, and was elected Fellow of the Royal Society. This
-body had been requested by Hevelius to select some person who might
-add the southern stars to his catalogue. A dispute was also pending
-between him and Hook, as to the use of telescopes in observing the
-stars, to which the former objected. To aid Hevelius, as well as to
-decide upon the character of his observations, Halley went to Dantzic,
-and it is related, as a proof of the energy of his character, that in one
-month from the time of his landing in England he published his
-catalogue, procured a mandate, took the degree, was elected F.R.S.,
-arranged to go to Dantzic, and wrote to Hevelius. He arrived on the
-26th of May, 1679, and the same night entered upon a series of
-observations with Hevelius, which he continued till July, when he
-returned to England, fully satisfied of his coadjutor’s accuracy.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>In 1680 he again visited the continent. Between Paris and Calais
-he had a sight of the celebrated comet of that year, well known as
-the one by observations of which the orbit of these bodies was discovered
-to be nearly a parabola. He returned from his travels in the
-year 1681, and shortly after married the daughter of a Mr. Tooke
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_163'>163</span>then Auditor of the Exchequer, which union lasted fifty-five years.
-He settled at Islington, where, for more than ten years, he occupied
-himself with his usual pursuits, of the results of which we shall
-presently speak more particularly.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>In 1691 the Savilian Professorship of Astronomy became vacant,
-and, as Whiston relates, on the authority of Dr. Bentley, Bishop
-Stillingfleet was requested to recommend Mr. Halley. But the astronomer’s
-avowed disbelief of Christianity interfered with his election in
-this instance, and the Professorship was given to Dr. Gregory. It is
-related by Sir David Brewster that Halley, when inclined to enter
-upon religious subjects with Newton, always received a check in
-words like the following, “You have not studied the subject—I have.”</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>After the above-mentioned failure, our astronomer received from
-King William the commission of Captain in the Navy, with command
-of a small vessel. The singularity of the reward need not surprise us,
-when the same monarch offered a company of dragoons to Swift: indeed
-the pursuits of Captain Halley were nearly akin to those of navigation,
-and he himself might be almost as well qualified for sailing, though
-perhaps not for fighting a ship, as most of his brother officers. In his
-new character Halley made two voyages, the first to the Mediterranean,
-the Brazils, and the West Indies, for the purpose of ascertaining
-the variation of the magnet, a subject in which he was much
-interested, and of which he afterwards published a chart; the second
-to ascertain the latitudes and longitudes of the principal points in
-the British Channel, and the course of the tides. In 1703 he was
-elected Savilian Professor of Geometry, on the death of the celebrated
-Wallis. He received, about the same time, the degree of Doctor
-of Laws, which is conferred without requiring subscription to the
-Articles of the Church. In his connexion with the University he
-superintended several parts of the edition of the Greek Geometers,
-which was printed at the University press.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Halley succeeded Sir Hans Sloane, in 1713, as Secretary to the
-Royal Society; and, in 1719, on the death of Flamsteed, he was
-appointed Astronomer Royal at Greenwich. In this employment he
-continued till his death, under the patronage of Queen Caroline, wife
-of George II., who procured for him the half-pay of the rank he
-formerly held in the navy. In 1737 he was seized with a paralytic
-disorder; but nevertheless continued his labours till within a short
-time of his death, which took place in January, 1742, at the age
-of eighty-five. He was interred at Lee, near Blackheath, where a
-monument was erected to him and his wife by their two daughters.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_164'>164</span>In person Dr. Halley was rather tall, thin, and fair, and remarkable
-as well for energy as vivacity of character. He cultivated the friendship
-and acquired the esteem of his most distinguished contemporaries,
-and particularly of Newton, spite of their very different opinions.
-Indeed it may be said that to him we owe, in some degree, the publication
-of the ‘Principia;’ for Halley being engaged upon the consideration
-of Kepler’s law, as it had been discovered by observation, viz.,
-that the squares of the periodic times of planets are as the cubes of
-their distances, and suspecting that this might be accounted for on
-the supposition of a centripetal force, varying inversely as the square
-of the distance, applied himself to prove the connexion geometrically,
-in which he was unable to succeed. In this difficulty he applied to
-Hook and Wren, neither of whom could help him, and was recommended
-to consult Newton, then Lucasian Professor at Cambridge.
-Following this advice, he found in Newton all he wanted; and did not
-rest until he had persuaded his new acquaintance to give the results of
-his discoveries to the world. In about two years after this, the first
-edition of the ‘Principia’ was published, and the proofs were corrected
-by Halley, who supplied the well-known Latin verses which stand at
-the beginning of the work.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>In conversation, Halley appears to have been of a jocose and somewhat
-satirical disposition. The following anecdote of him, which is
-told by Whiston, displays the usual modesty of the latter, when speaking
-of himself: “On my refusal from him of a glass of wine on a
-Wednesday or Friday, he said he was afraid I had a pope in my belly,
-which I denied, and added somewhat bluntly, that had it not been for
-the rise now and then of a Luther or a Whiston, he would himself have
-gone down on his knees to St. Winifred or St. Bridget, which he
-knew not how to contradict.” It is related that when Queen Caroline
-offered to obtain an increase of Halley’s salary as Astronomer Royal,
-he replied, “Pray, your Majesty, do no such thing, for should the salary
-be increased, it might become an object of emolument to place there
-some unqualified needy dependant, to the ruin of the institution.” And
-yet the sum which he would not suffer to be increased was only
-£100 a-year.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>To give even a catalogue of the various labours of Halley, would
-require more space than we can here devote to the subject. For a
-more detailed account both of his life and discoveries, we must refer
-the reader to the <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Biographia Britannica, to Delambre, Histoire de
-l’Astronomie au dix-huitième Siecle, livre II.</span>, and the Philosophical
-Transactions of the time in which he lived; or better perhaps to the
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_165'>165</span><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Miscellanea Curiosa</span>, <em>London</em>, 1726, a selection of papers from the
-Transactions, containing the most remarkable of those written by
-Halley. We shall, nevertheless, proceed briefly to notice a few of the
-discoveries on which the fame of our astronomer is built.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>The most remarkable of them, to a common reader, is the conjecture
-of the return of a comet. Some earlier astronomers, as Kepler, had
-imagined the motion of these bodies to be rectilinear. Newton, in
-explaining the principle of universal gravitation, showed how a comet
-might describe a parabola, and also how to calculate its motion, and
-compare it with observation. Hevelius had already indicated the
-curvature of a comet’s path, and Dörfel, a Saxon clergyman, had
-calculated the path of the comet of 1680 upon this supposition.
-Halley, in computing the parabolic elements of all the comets which
-had been well observed up to his time, suspected, from the general
-likeness of the three, that the comets of 1531, 1607, and 1682, were
-the same. He was the more confirmed in this, by knowing that comets
-had been seen, though no good observations were recorded, in the
-years 1305, 1380, and 1456, giving, with the former dates, a chain of
-differences of 75 and 76 years alternately. Halley supposed, therefore,
-that the orbit of this comet was, not a parabola, but a very
-elongated ellipse, and that it would return about the year 1758. The
-truth of his conjecture was fully confirmed in January, 1759, by
-Messier. The first person, however, who saw Halley’s comet, as it is
-now called, was George Palitzch, a farmer in the neighbourhood of
-Dresden, who had studied astronomy by himself, and fitted up a small
-observatory.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>But a much more useful exertion of Halley’s genius and power of
-calculation is to be found in his researches on the lunar theory. It
-is to him that we are indebted for first starting the idea of finding
-the longitude at sea by means of the moon’s place, which is now
-universally adopted. The principle of this problem is as follows.
-An observer at sea can readily find the time of day by means of the
-sun or a star, and can thereby correct a watch. If he could at the
-same moment in which he finds his own time, also discover that at
-Greenwich, the difference between the two, turned into degrees,
-minutes, and seconds, would be his longitude east or west of Greenwich.
-If, therefore, he carries with him a Nautical Almanac, in which
-the times of various astronomical phenomena are registered, as they
-will take place at Greenwich, or rather as they will be seen by an
-observer placed at the centre of the earth with a Greenwich clock, he
-can observe any one of these phenomena, and reduce it also to the
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_166'>166</span>centre. He will then know the corresponding moments of time, for
-his own position and that of Greenwich. The moon traverses the
-whole of its orbit in little more than 27 days, and therefore moves
-rapidly with respect to the fixed stars, its motion being nearly a whole
-sign of the zodiac in 48 hours. If we observe the distance between
-the moon and a star, and find it to be ten degrees, the longitude of the
-place in which the observation is made can be known as aforesaid, if
-the almanac will tell what time it was at Greenwich when the moon
-was at that same distance from the star. In the time of Halley,
-though it was known that the moon moved nearly in an ellipse, yet the
-elements of that ellipse, and the various irregularities to which it is
-subject, were very imperfectly ascertained. It had, however, been
-known even from the time of the Chaldeans, that some of these irregularities
-have a <em>period</em>, as it is called, of little more than eighteen
-years, that is, begin again in the same order after every eighteen years;
-the periods and quantities of several other errors had also been discovered
-with something like accuracy. To make good lunar tables,
-that is, tables from which the place of the moon might be correctly
-calculated beforehand, became the object of Halley’s ambition. He
-therefore observed the moon diligently during the whole of one of the
-periods of eighteen years, that is, from the end of 1721 to that of
-1739, and produced tables which were published in 1749, after his
-death, and were of great service to astronomers. He also made
-another observation on the motion of the moon, which has since given
-rise to one of the finest discoveries of Laplace. In calculating from
-our tables the time of an ancient eclipse, observed at Babylon, <span class='sc'><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">B. C.</span></span>
-720, he found that, had the tables been correct, it would have happened
-three hours sooner than, according to Ptolemy, it did happen.
-This might have arisen from an error in the Babylonian observation;
-but on looking at other eclipses, he found that the ancient ones
-always happened later than the time indicated by his table, and that the
-difference became less and less as he approached his own time. From
-hence he concluded that the moon’s average daily motion is subject
-to a very small acceleration, so that a lunar month at present is in a
-very slight degree shorter than a month in the time of the Chaldeans.
-This was afterwards shown by Laplace to arise from a very slow
-diminution in the eccentricity of the earth’s orbit, caused by the
-attraction of the planets. For a further account of Halley’s astronomical
-labours, we may refer to the History of Astronomy in the
-Library of Useful Knowledge, page 79.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>We must also ascribe to Halley the first correct application of the
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_167'>167</span>barometer to the measurement of the heights of mountains. Mariotte,
-who first enunciated the remarkable law that the elastic forces of
-gases are in the inverse proportion of the spaces which they occupy,
-had previously given a formula for the determination of these same
-heights, entirely wrong in principle, and inapplicable in practice.
-Halley, whose profound mathematical knowledge made him fully equal
-to the task, investigated and discovered the common formula, which,
-with some corrections for the temperature of the mercury in the barometer
-and the air without it, is in use at this day. We have already
-mentioned that Halley sailed to various parts of the earth with a
-view to determine the variation of the magnet. The result of his
-labours was communicated to the Royal Society in a map of the lines
-of equal variation, and also of the course of the trade-winds. He
-attempted to explain the phenomena of the compass by supposing that
-the earth is one great magnet, having four poles, two near each pole
-of the equator; and further accounts for the variation which the compass
-undergoes from year to year in the same place, by imagining a
-magnetic sphere, interior to the surface of the earth, which nucleus or
-inner globe turns on an axis with a velocity of rotation very little
-differing from that of the earth itself. This hypothesis has shared the
-fate of many others purely mathematical; that is, invented to show how
-the observed phenomena might be produced, without any ground of
-observation for believing that they really are so produced. If we
-put together the astronomical and geographical discoveries of Halley,
-and remember that the former were principally confined to those
-points which bear upon the subjects of the latter, we shall be able
-to find a title for their author less liable to cavil than that of the
-Prince of Astronomers, which has sometimes been bestowed upon him;
-we may safely say that no man, either before or since, has done more
-to improve the theoretical part of navigation, by the diligent observation
-alike of heavenly and earthly phenomena.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>We pass over many minor subjects, such as his improvement of the
-diving-bell, or his measurement of the quantity of fluid abstracted by
-evaporation from the sea, to come to an application of science in which
-he led the way,—the investigation of the law of mortality. From
-observations communicated to the Royal Society of the births and
-deaths in the city of Breslau, he constructed the first table of mortality,
-which was in a great measure the foundation of the celebrated hypothesis
-of De Moivre, that the decrements of human life are nearly equal
-at all ages; that is, that out of eighty-six persons born, one dies every
-year, until all are gone. Halley’s table as might be expected, was not
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_168'>168</span>very applicable to human life in England, either then or now, but the
-effect of example is conspicuous in this instance. Before the death
-of Halley the tables of Kerseboom were published, and four years
-afterwards, those of De Parcieux.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>We will not enlarge on the purely mathematical investigations of
-Halley, which would possess but little interest for the general reader.
-We may mention, however, his method for the solution of equations,
-his ‘Analogy of the Logarithmic Tangents to the Meridian Line, or sum
-of the secants,’ his algebraic investigation of the place of the focus of
-a lens, and his improvement of the method of finding logarithms.
-From the latter we quote a sentence, which, to the reader, for whose
-benefit we have omitted entering upon any discussion of these subjects,
-will appear amusing enough, if indeed he does not shrink to see how
-much he has degenerated from his ancestors. After describing a
-process which contains calculation enough for most people; and which
-further directs to multiply sixty figures by sixty figures, he adds, “If
-the curiosity of any gentleman that has leisure, would prompt him to
-undertake to do the logarithms of all prime numbers under 100,000 to
-25 or 30 figures, I dare assure him that the facility of this method
-will invite him thereto; nor can anything more easy be desired.
-And to encourage him, I here give the logarithms of the first prime
-numbers under 20 to 60 places.” One look at these encouraging rows
-of figures would be sufficient for any but a calculating boy.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>No one who is conversant with the mathematics and their applications
-can read the life of the mathematicians of the seventeenth
-century without a strong feeling of respect for the manner in which
-they overcame obstacles, and of gratitude for the labour which they
-have saved their successors. The brilliancy of later names has, in
-some degree, eclipsed their fame with the multitude; but no one
-acquainted with the history of science can forget, how with poor
-instruments and imperfect processes, they achieved successes, but for
-which Laplace might have made the first rude attempts towards
-finding the longitude, and Lagrange might have discovered the law
-which connects the coefficients of the binomial theorem. But even of
-these men the same thing may one day be said; and future analysts
-may wonder how Laplace, with his paltry means of investigation,
-could account for the phenomenon of the acceleration of the moon’s
-motion; and future astronomers may, should such a sentence as the
-present ever meet their eyes, be surprised that the observers of the
-nineteenth century should hold their heads so high above those of
-the seventeenth.</p>
-
-<div  class='figcenter id001'>
-<img src='images/i_169fp.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' />
-<div class='ic001'>
-<p><em>Engraved by W. Holl.</em><br /><br />SULLY.<br /><br /><em>From the original Picture by an unknown Artist in the private collection of Louis Philippe, King of the French.</em><br /><br />Under the Superintendance of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge<br /><br /><em>London. Published by Charles Knight, Pall Mall East.</em></p>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<div  class='figcenter id002'>
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_169'>169</span>
-<img src='images/i_169.jpg' alt='SULLY.' class='ig001' />
-</div>
-
-<div class='chapter'>
-  <h2 class='c006'>SULLY</h2>
-</div>
-
-<p class='c011'>The Duc de Sully is celebrated as the companion, minister, and historian
-of Henry IV., the most popular of French monarchs. Eminent
-among his contemporaries both as a soldier and as a financier, it is his
-especial glory that he laboured to promote the welfare of the industrious
-classes, when other statesmen regarded them but as the fount
-from which royal extravagance was to be supplied.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Maximilian, son of François de Bethune, Baron de Rosny, and of
-Charlotte Dauvet, daughter of a President of the Chamber of
-Accounts at Paris, was born at Rosny in the year 1559. His family
-was ancient, illustrious, and once wealthy, but his paternal grandfather
-had almost ruined it by his extravagance, his maternal grandfather
-disinherited him because he embraced the reformed religion; and with
-a slight annual allowance young Rosny had to seek his own fortune in
-the extravagant profession of arms. By a sage economy and order he,
-however, supported himself, and escaped the dependence and dishonour
-consequent on extravagance in a poor man. When thirteen years of
-age he was presented by his father to the young Prince of Navarre,
-who was only seven years older than himself, and who at once conceived
-that affection for him which was destined to cease only with
-his own life.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>On the memorable day of St. Bartholomew, Rosny was in Paris,
-engaged in the prosecution of his studies. A known member of the
-Protestant Church, his life was in jeopardy: his servant and his tutor
-fell victims to the rage of the Papists, and he himself, obliged to quit
-his chambers for a safer hiding-place, and exposed to imminent dangers
-in traversing the streets, owed his deliverance more than once to a
-union of courage and coolness not very common in a youth of thirteen.
-After this event he, as well as his patron and friend Henry of Navarre,
-conformed for a time to the observances of the Roman Catholic religion;
-but in 1576, when Henry escaped from the thraldom in which
-he had been held, abjured Catholicism and placed himself at the head
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_170'>170</span>of a Protestant army, Rosny was the companion of his flight, and first
-began to carry arms in his service. His noble birth, and the favour of
-his master, would at once have secured him military rank, but Rosny
-preferred to serve as a simple volunteer, in order, as he said, to learn
-the art of war by its elements.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>At the surprise of Réde, at the siege of Villefranche, at the taking of
-Eause and Cahors, at the battle of Marmande, and in all the dangerous
-affairs in which Henry engaged, Rosny was always at his side. His
-good services, and the affection borne him by his master, did not, however,
-prevent a quarrel, which, it must be said, was provoked by his
-own imprudence and aggravated by his own pride. In spite of the commands
-of the Prince of Navarre, who had wisely prohibited the practice
-of referring private quarrels to the arbitrement of the sword, Rosny
-acted as second in a duel, in which one of the principals was desperately
-wounded. The Prince’s anger at the breach of discipline
-was exasperated by a strong personal regard for the wounded man.
-He sent for Sully, rebuked him in harsh terms, and said that he
-deserved to lose his head for what he had done. The pride of the
-young soldier was touched; he replied that he was neither vassal nor
-subject of Navarre, and would henceforth seek the service of a more
-grateful master. The Prince rejoined in severe terms and turned his
-back on him; and Rosny was quitting the court, when the Queen,
-who knew his value, interfered, and reconciled him with her son.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Not long after he quitted Henry’s service, alleging that he had
-pledged his word to accompany the Duc d’Alençon, afterwards Duc
-d’Anjou, brother of Henry III., in his contest for the sovereignty of
-Flanders; where, in case of success, he was to be put in possession of
-the estates which had belonged to his maternal grandfather. In this
-campaign he gained neither honour nor profit, and soon returned to
-his original master. Henry received him with open arms, and, as if to
-prove that absence had not affected his confidence and esteem, sent
-him a few days after on an important mission to Paris.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>In the troubled times which followed, Rosny was unshaken in devotion
-to the cause which he had espoused. He accompanied Henry,
-when that prince, with only nineteen followers, threw himself, as a last
-resource, into La Rochelle. He undertook an embassy from that city to
-Henry III., then almost as much persecuted by the League as the King
-of Navarre himself. In his Memoirs he has left a striking description
-of the degraded condition of that sovereign, who had entirely abandoned
-himself to favourites and menials of the court. “His Majesty was in
-his cabinet; he had his sword by his side, a hood thrown over his
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_171'>171</span>shoulders, a little bonnet on his head, and a basket full of little dogs
-hung round his neck by a broad riband.” He listened to Rosny with
-vacant stupidity, neither moving his feet, his hands, nor his head.
-When he spoke, he complained of the audacity and insults of the
-League—said that nothing would go well in France until the King of
-Navarre went to mass—but agreed, finally, that Rosny might treat
-with the envoys of the Protestant Cantons of Switzerland, in his name
-as well as the King of Navarre’s, for the raising of twenty thousand
-Swiss troops, to be employed between the two sovereigns.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Henry, through his imprudence, lost all the advantages which his
-faithful servant’s treaty with the Swiss might have secured to him; but
-neither disgusted nor dispirited by this folly, Rosny persevered in his
-attachment to a cause which seemed altogether desperate to most
-others. He was at the siege of Fontenay, and at the brilliant victory
-of Coutras, for which the King of Navarre was materially indebted to
-the artillery under Rosny’s command. His next great undertaking
-was to effect an entire reconciliation between his master and the King
-of France. Having succeeded in this, the eyes of all France thenceforward
-rested upon him as the only man who could re-establish the distracted
-kingdom. Such was the enthusiasm of many of the French at
-the time, that they called him “<span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Le Dieu Rosny</span>.”</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>The desired reconciliation had not long been made when Henry III.
-was assassinated by a fanatic monk, and the King of Navarre laid claim
-to the vacant throne. But much remained to be done ere he could
-tranquilly seat himself upon it. His religion was an insurmountable
-obstacle to the mass of the nation, and the League was all-powerful in
-many parts of France and held possession of Paris.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Rosny fought with his accustomed valour at the battles of Arques
-and Ivry. At the latter he well nigh lost his life: he received five
-wounds, had two horses killed under him, and fell at last among a heap
-of slain. The manner in which he retired from this field, with four
-prisoners of the highest distinction and the standard of the enemy’s
-commander-in-chief, is one of the most romantic incidents to be found
-in authentic history.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>After the victory of Ivry, Rosny did not receive the rewards he
-merited, and he remained for some time at his estate under pretence of
-ill health, but secretly disinclined to return to the service of one who
-had shown little real gratitude for his long and faithful adherence.
-No sooner, however, did he learn that Henry was about to undertake
-the siege of Paris, than he left his retreat and hastened again to his
-master’s side. His wounds were still uncured: he appeared before
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_172'>172</span>the King leaning on crutches and with an arm in a sling. Touched
-by his devotedness and his melancholy state, Henry loaded him with
-caresses, and insisted that he should not expose himself for the present
-but remain near his person to assist him with his counsels.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>When Henry first meditated his recantation of the Protestant
-faith, he consulted Rosny on this all-important subject. The honest
-soldier after reviewing the state of the parties opposed to the King,
-and holding out the hope that they would disagree among themselves
-and fall to pieces, said, “With regard to your change of religion,
-it cannot be otherwise than advantageous to you, seeing that
-your enemies have no other pretext for their hostility, but, sire, it is
-between you and your conscience to decide on this important article<a id='r4' /><a href='#f4' class='c012'><sup>[4]</sup></a>.”
-Shortly after this conversation the death of the Duke of Parma
-relieved Henry from one of his most formidable enemies; but the
-implacable Leaguers, now becoming meanly desperate, laid plots
-against his life, and, it is said, even sent assassins to Mantes, where
-the King was residing. Henry thought to provide for his personal
-safety by continually surrounding himself by a corps of faithful
-English soldiers who were in his service; but Rosny, knowing the
-craft and audacity of fanaticism, and warned of the danger which
-menaced the competitor for the crown by the untimely fate of its last
-wearer, was kept in a state of continual alarm. At last, sinking his
-attachment to the reformed religion in his attachment to his King
-and his friend, he supplicated, on his knees, that he would conform
-to the doctrines of the Roman Catholic Church. And this the King
-did almost immediately after. Rosny continued a Protestant. Many
-of the cities of France now submitted to Henry, but Rouen, one
-of the most important of the number, was only gained over by the
-skilful negotiations of Rosny, who shortly after treated, and with
-equal success, with the Duke de Bouillon, the Duke de Guise,
-and other formidable enemies of the King. In return for these
-valuable services, he was admitted into the Councils of War and
-Finance, where his honesty and the favour of his master soon roused
-the corrupt and jealous members of those departments of government
-against him. So great, indeed, were his annoyances that in the absence
-of Henry he withdrew again to his estates, and was only induced to
-return to his post by a personal visit from his sovereign.</p>
-
-<div class='footnote' id='f4'>
-<p class='c000'><span class='label'><a href='#r4'>4</a>.&nbsp;&nbsp;</span><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Mémoires de Sully</span>.</p>
-</div>
-
-<p class='c000'>The King, who was now strong enough to attack the Spaniards in
-their dominions in the Low Countries, laid siege to Arras: but through
-the bad conduct of those who administered the finances of the state, he
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_173'>173</span>not only found himself unprovided with all that was necessary to
-prosecute his undertaking with success, but was left in a state of entire
-and even personal destitution. In these difficulties he called Rosny to
-his assistance, and placed him at the head of the finances. Under the
-new minister’s able and honest management, affairs soon changed their
-aspect: the treasury was replenished, while at the same time the
-people found their burdens lightened by economy. Rosny had prepared
-himself for this office, in the discharge of which he became a true
-benefactor of France, by a profound study of accounts and of the
-revenues and resources of the country; and when the post was given
-to him, for a considerable time he laboured night and day to detect the
-impolicy and the peculation of those who preceded him, and to re-establish
-the finances of the country.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>In 1601 Rosny visited England, under pretence of travelling for
-his amusement, but in reality to ascertain the political views, and to
-secure the friendship of Elizabeth. On the Queen’s death, a formal
-embassy to James I. was contemplated, but a dangerous illness which
-the King suffered at Fontainebleau delayed this measure. Henry, who
-thought he was dying, sent for the long-tried Rosny to his bed-side,
-and in his presence he desired the Queen to retain his faithful minister,
-as the welfare of herself, her family, and of the nation were dear to
-her. The King, however, recovered, and in the month of June, 1603,
-Rosny, with a numerous suite, departed on his mission. After a
-residence of several weeks in England, he succeeded in concluding an
-advantageous treaty with James I.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>The following year he composed a treatise on religious tolerance,
-which he at one time hoped might reconcile the animosities of the
-Catholics and Protestants. If he failed in this, he left an example,
-rare at that time, of an enlightened and liberal spirit. Shortly after he
-wrote a memorial indicating the means by which the commerce and
-finances of France might be still further improved. At that time the
-political sciences could scarcely be said to exist; and it is not to be
-supposed that the minister’s views were at all times just and enlarged.
-They show, at all events, that he looked to the industry of the people
-as the source of national wealth; and to their welfare as one, at least,
-of the objects of government. “Tillage and pasturage,” it was a
-favourite saying of his, “are the two paps by which France is
-nourished—the real treasures of Peru.” To manufactures he was less
-favourable, and his obstinacy on this head retarded many of Henry’s
-schemes for the encouragement of national industry. His real glory as
-a minister is to be sought in the exactness which he introduced into
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_174'>174</span>the management of the finances; and in the vigour with which he
-repressed peculation in his subordinates, and gave the whole weight
-of his influence to check the needless expenditure of a profligate court,
-to curtail those feudal claims which bore hardest on the vassals, and to
-oppose all privileges and monopolies, commonly bestowed upon courtiers
-in those days, which cramp the prosperity of a nation, to put a comparatively
-trifling sum into the pocket of a single person. One day
-the Duchesse de Verneuil, one of Henry’s favourites, remonstrated
-with him for his severity in this respect, alleging that the King had a
-good right to make presents to his mistresses and nobility. His answer
-should be generally known. “This were well, Madam, if the King
-took the money from his own purse; but it is against reason to take it
-from the shopkeepers, artisans, and agricultural labourers, since it is
-they who support the King and all of us, and they would be well
-content with a single master, without having so many cousins, relations,
-and mistresses to maintain.” His enemies insinuated that in the
-service of the state he had not neglected his own interest; and it is
-certain that he acquired immense wealth. Cardinal Richelieu, however,
-no friend to him, contents himself with the insinuation that if the last
-years of his administration were less austere than the first, it could not,
-at least, be said that they were profitable to himself without being very
-profitable to the state also.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>To his other offices he added those of Grand Master of the Ordnance,
-and Surveyor-General of Public Works. The artillery had always
-been a favourite branch of the service with him; and he was esteemed
-one of the best generals of the age for the attack or defence of fortified
-places. As Master of the Ordnance he mainly contributed to the success
-of the war with the Duke of Savoy. The army was well paid and provided,
-the artillery always at its place at the proper time, and a general
-reform was felt throughout the service. In peace he was not less active
-in superintending the construction and repair of fortifications; and in
-those still more valuable labours which tend to facilitate intercourse, and
-provide for the internal wants of a nation. One of his chief works was
-a canal to join the Seine and Loire. There were few good engineers
-in those times, and Rosny, with his usual industry and earnestness,
-went himself to the spot and superintended the commencement of the
-work he had projected.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>In 1606, after many brief quarrels between him and his master,
-caused chiefly by the intrigues of Henry’s mistresses and worthless
-courtiers, Rosny was created Duc de Sully and a Peer of France.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>The licentiousness of the King, and the power he allowed his
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_175'>175</span>mistresses to obtain over him, had continually thwarted Sully and
-undone much of the good they had together proposed and executed.
-The minister’s remonstrances were frequent, bold, and at times even
-violent; indeed, his whole life had been distinguished by an honest
-bluntness; but the propensities of the amorous monarch were incurable,
-and his faithful servant had the mortification of seeing him
-disgrace the last years of his life by an infatuation for the Princess
-of Condé. Henry had already determined on a war with his old
-enemies the Spaniards, when the flight of this lady with her husband,
-who took refuge in the states of the house of Austria, induced him to
-hurry on his preparations to attack both the Emperor and the King of
-Spain. Sully, at this time, had amassed forty millions of livres in the
-treasury of the state, and he engaged moreover to increase this sum to
-sixty or to seventy millions without laying on any new taxes. He had
-also provided the most numerous and magnificent corps of artillery
-that had ever been seen in Europe. But in the midst of these grand
-preparations Henry’s mind was agitated by his insane passion for the
-Princess of Condé, and oppressed by a presentiment of his fate. He
-was indeed told on every hand that plots were laid against his life;
-his romantic courage forsook him, he became absent and suspicious,
-and at last distrusted even his faithful minister.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Sully now no longer saw his master except at short intervals, and
-lived, retired from the court, at the Arsenal, his official residence as
-Grand Master of the Artillery.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>The naturally confident and noble nature of Henry, and his old
-attachment for the sharer in all his fortunes, triumphed however over
-his weaknesses and illusions, and he determined to pay Sully a visit and
-to excuse himself for his late coldness. With these amiable intentions
-the King left his palace, and was on his way to the Arsenal in an open
-carriage, when he was stabbed to the heart by the fanatic Ravaillac.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>On the death of Henry IV. Sully would have continued his valuable
-services under the Queen-widow, Mary de’ Medici, who was appointed
-Regent, but that Princess resigning herself and the government of
-the state to intriguing Italians, headed by the unpopular Concini, the
-honest and indignant minister quitted office and the court for ever, and
-retired to his estates.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>The life Sully led in his retreat was most rational and dignified.
-Unmoved by the ingratitude of the court, of which he was continually
-receiving fresh proofs, he continued to love the country he had so long
-governed; and though a zealous Protestant to the last, he would never
-join in the intrigues of the Hugonots, which he dreaded might renew
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_176'>176</span>the horrors of civil war. To find occupation for his active mind he
-dictated his Memoirs to four secretaries, whom, for many years, he
-retained in his service, and who, in the ‘Economies Royales,’ better
-known under the title of ‘<span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Mémoires de Sully</span>,’ preserved not only the
-most interesting details of the life of their noble master and of Henry
-IV., but the fullest account of the history and policy, manners and
-customs, of the age in which Sully lived. Neither the occupations of
-war nor of politics, in which he had been absorbed for thirty-four years,
-had eradicated his original taste for polite literature; and in his retirement
-he composed many pieces not only in prose but in verse. One
-of his poetical compositions, which is a parallel between Henry IV. and
-Julius Cæsar, was translated into Latin and much admired throughout
-Europe.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>After having lived thirty years in this retirement, the great Sully
-expired at his Château of Villebonne, in the eighty-second year of his
-age, on the 22d December, 1641—the same year in which Lord
-Strafford, the minister of Charles I., was beheaded in London, and in
-which the grave closed over the widow of Henry IV., Mary de’
-Medici, who died at Cologne in obscurity and great poverty.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>It is to be regretted that no author has yet produced a life of Sully
-worthy of the subject. The ‘<span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Economies Royales</span>’ is the great storehouse
-of information, but its prolixity and singularity of style render it
-little attractive to the general reader. The following works, however,
-may be consulted:—’<span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Les Vies des Hommes Illustres de la France</span>,’
-by M. D’Auvigny, and the memoir in the ‘<span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Biographie Universelle</span>.’</p>
-
-<div  class='figcenter id003'>
-<img src='images/i_176.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' />
-</div>
-
-<div  class='figcenter id001'>
-<img src='images/i_177fp.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' />
-<div class='ic001'>
-<p><em>Engraved by J. Posselwhite.</em><br /><br />N. POUSSIN.<br /><br /><em>From the original Picture by himself in the Gallery of the Louvre.</em><br /><br />Under the Superintendance of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge.<br /><br /><em>London. Published by Charles Knight, Pall Mall East.</em></p>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<div  class='figcenter id002'>
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_177'>177</span>
-<img src='images/i_177.jpg' alt='POUSSIN' class='ig001' />
-</div>
-
-<div class='chapter'>
-  <h2 class='c006'>POUSSIN</h2>
-</div>
-
-<p class='c011'>Truth and compliment are happily united in Poussin’s observation to
-a noble amateur, “You wanted but the stimulus of necessity to have
-become a great painter.” The artist had himself felt this stimulus,
-and he knew its value in producing resolution and habits of industry.
-His family was noble, but indigent: John, his father, a native of
-Soissons, and a soldier of fortune, served during the reigns of Charles
-IX., Henry III., and Henry IV., with more reputation than profit.
-At last, finding that in the trade of arms his valour was likely to
-be its own reward, he married the widow of a solicitor, resigned his
-military employments, and fixed his abode at Andelys in Normandy,
-where, in June 1594, his son Nicholas, the subject of the present
-memoir, was born.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>The district in which Andelys is situated is remarkable for its
-picturesque beauty, and from the scenery which surrounded him the
-genius of Poussin drew its first inspiration. His sketches of landscape
-attracted the notice and commendation of Quintin Varin, an artist
-residing in the neighbourhood. Animated by praise, young Poussin
-earnestly solicited his father that he might become Varin’s pupil: a
-request to which the prudent parent, after long hesitation, reluctantly
-acceded. He knew that in such a pursuit as that of the fine arts,
-much of the aspirant’s life must be expended before a just estimate
-of his professional talents can be formed, and that even where talent
-exists, the success of the possessor is not always commensurate to its
-claims. The youth, however, was fortunate in meeting, in the first
-instance, with a preceptor whose instructions, founded on just principles,
-left him nothing to unlearn. He remained with Varin until
-his eighteenth year, when he went to Paris, and studied under Ferdinand
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_178'>178</span>Elle, and L’Allemand, two artists then in fashion, from whom he
-learned nothing. In the mean time he had become acquainted with
-several persons who appreciated his dawning talents, and felt an
-interest in his fortunes. Among the rest, a young nobleman of
-Poitou manifested an almost fraternal attachment towards him, relieved
-his pecuniary wants, and among other services introduced him to
-Courtois, the King’s mathematician, who possessed a fine collection
-of prints by Marc Antonio, and a great number of drawings and
-sketches by Raffaelle, Giulio Romano, and other great masters of
-the Roman school. These treasures Poussin studied and copied
-with sedulous zeal and attention, and he was frequently heard to
-advert to this circumstance as one of the most fortunate of his life,
-inasmuch as the contemplation of these fine examples had fixed his
-taste, and determined the bent of his powers towards the higher
-branches of art, at a time when his mind was fluctuating between
-the attractions of different schools.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>The young Poitevin, being summoned to return home, invited
-Poussin to become his companion, and to undertake a series of pictures,
-calculated, by its extent as well as its excellence, to do honour to
-his paternal mansion. But his mother regarded the fine arts and
-those who patronised them with equal and unqualified contempt:
-and suffering in her house the exercise of none but what she considered
-useful talents, she assigned to Poussin the office of house-steward,
-and his visions of fame were at once dispelled by the
-humble occupation of overlooking the servants, and keeping
-accounts. It may easily be supposed that the young artist did not
-deport himself very meekly under the new appointments which had
-thus unexpectedly been thrust upon him. Without asking the sympathy
-or assistance even of his friend, who, it would appear, had
-acquiesced too readily in his mother’s arrangements, he quitted the
-house and made his way to Paris on foot; having no other means of
-support on the road than the extemporaneous productions of his pencil.
-In consequence of the hardships which he experienced during this
-journey, he was attacked by a fever on reaching Paris, which obliged
-him to return to Andelys. After the lapse of a year, having recruited
-his health, he made arrangements to execute a long-cherished purpose
-of a journey to Rome. But with an improvidence not uncommon
-in artists, and sometimes falsely said to be characteristic of genius,
-he calculated his resources so inaccurately that in two successive
-attempts he was obliged to return, leaving his purpose unaccomplished.
-In the first instance he reached Florence, but in the second, he got no
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_179'>179</span>farther than Lyons. The disappointment, however, was attended
-with good results, for on his return to Paris, a circumstance occurred
-which at once raised him into high reputation.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>The Jesuits had ordered a set of pictures for a high festival, which
-were to display the miracles worked by their patron saints, Ignatius
-Loyola, and Francis Xavier. Of these, six were executed by Poussin,
-in a very short space of time; the pictures were little more than
-sketches, but they exhibited such powers of composition and expression,
-that he was at once acknowledged to have distanced all competitors.
-His acquaintance was now sought by amateurs and literati;
-but the chief advantage which accrued to him was the friendship of
-the Chevalier Marini, a distinguished Italian, who had settled in Paris,
-and engaged with interest in the cultivation of elegant literature and
-the arts. His mind was stored with classical erudition, and he
-delighted to exercise his poetic talent on the then fashionable fables
-of heathen mythology. Such pursuits were congenial to Poussin’s
-turn of mind; and by the advice, and with the assistance of Marini,
-he entered deeply into the study of the Latin and Italian authors.
-Hence he drew the elements of that knowledge of the customs, manners,
-and habits of antiquity, by which his works are so eminently
-distinguished. Marini, soon after, went to Rome, and was anxious
-that Poussin should accompany him; but this the artist found impossible,
-from the number of unfinished commissions on his hands. In
-the ensuing year, however, 1624, his long-cherished wish was
-accomplished, and he trod the streets of the Eternal City.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Among the innumerable pilgrims who have thronged to that mighty
-shrine, no one ever, perhaps, approached it with deeper reverence than
-Poussin, or studied in the school of antiquity with more zeal and
-success. He commenced his labours with that enthusiasm which the
-objects around him could not fail to inspire, and comprehended in the
-round of his studies the different sciences which bore collaterally upon
-his art. Some of his finest works are among those which he produced
-at this period; but his talents were not at first appreciated in Rome, and
-the spectre of penury still haunted his study. His friend Marini had
-gone to Naples, where he died, and the Cardinal Barberini, to whose
-favour he had been especially recommended, was absent on a legation
-in Spain. Among other works which his necessities compelled him to
-dispose of at this time for a trifling sum, was “The Ark of God in
-the hands of the Philistines,” which was purchased from him for fifty
-crowns, and sold shortly afterwards to the Duc de Richelieu for one
-thousand. Accident and ill health combined with poverty to overcloud
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_180'>180</span>the early part of his abode in Rome. The French were then very
-unpopular, on account of some differences existing between the Court
-of France and the Holy See. Poussin was assaulted in the streets by
-some of the Pope’s soldiery, severely wounded by a sabre-cut in the
-hand, and only escaped more serious injury by the spirit and resolution
-with which he defended himself. After recovering from this injury,
-he was again rendered unable to pursue his art by a lingering illness;
-in the course of which a fellow-countryman, named Jean Dughet, took
-him to his own home, and treated him with care, which soon restored
-him to health. Six months afterwards he married the daughter of his
-host, and subsequently adopted his wife’s brother, Gaspar, who assumed
-his name, and has shared its honours by his splendid landscapes.
-With part of his wife’s portion Poussin purchased a house on the
-Pincian Hill, which is still pointed out as an object of interest to
-travellers and students.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>From this period the fortune of Poussin began to improve. Relieved
-from his embarrassments, and tranquillized by domestic comfort, he
-proceeded in the calm exercise of his powers; and the fine works on
-which his reputation is founded were painted in rapid succession.
-Cardinal Barberini, who had returned to Rome, engaged him to
-execute one of the large paintings ordered to be copied in mosaic for
-St. Peter’s Church. The subject was the Martyrdom of St. Erasmus;
-but the picture, which is now in the Vatican, furnishes no reason for
-regret that Poussin did not more frequently employ himself on works of
-large dimensions. A circumstance occurred at this time which it is
-gratifying to relate, as it exhibits two distinguished men engaged in
-the honourable task of promoting the success and vindicating the
-reputation of each other. When Poussin arrived at Rome, he found
-the lovers of art divided into two parties, composed respectively of the
-admirers of Guido and Domenichino. Two pictures had been painted
-by those artists, which, as if to decide their rival claims, were hung
-opposite to each other in the church of San Gregorio. The subjects
-were similar; the one the Flagellation, the other the Martyrdom of
-the Saint from whom the church is named. The performance of
-Guido was the one most generally preferred: but Poussin formed a
-different judgment, and sat down to copy the picture of the less popular
-artist. Domenichino, on being informed of this, although he was
-then suffering from illness, ordered himself to be carried to the church,
-where he entered into conversation with Poussin, to whom he was
-personally unknown, and who indeed imagined him to be dead. A
-friendly intimacy was the consequence of this interview, which was
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_181'>181</span>exceedingly advantageous to Poussin, as Domenichino took pleasure
-in communicating all that knowledge of art, which long experience
-had enabled him to acquire. Shortly after this Domenichino
-quitted Rome for Naples, and the storm of envy and detraction
-seemed to gather force in his absence. So much was his reputation
-injured, that the monks of the convent of <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">San Girolamo della
-Carità</span>, who had in their possession his superb picture of the Communion
-of St. Jerome, ordered it to be removed from the walls and
-consigned to a cellar as a thing utterly contemptible. This anecdote,
-were it not attested by unquestionable evidence, would be difficult
-to believe; for the merits of the picture require no deep knowledge
-of art to be duly appreciated: it is not less admirable in colour
-and effect than in sentiment and character. The intelligent monks,
-however, wishing for a picture to supply its place, engaged Poussin
-to paint one, acquainting him at the same time that they could save
-him the expense of canvass, by sending him a worthless daub, over
-which he might paint. The astonishment of Poussin on receiving the
-picture may be easily conceived. He immediately directed it to be
-carried to the church from whence it had been taken, and announced
-his intention to deliver a public disquisition on its merits. This he
-accordingly did to a large auditory, and with such force of reasoning
-and illustration, that malice was silenced and prejudice convinced;
-and the name of Domenichino assumed from that time its just rank in
-public estimation.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>The pictures of Poussin, as he advanced in his career, were eagerly
-purchased by connoisseurs from all countries, and his fame was at
-length established throughout Europe. In 1638 a project was suggested
-to Louis XIII., by Cardinal Richelieu, for finishing the Louvre,
-and adorning the royal palaces, according to the magnificent plans of
-Francis I. The high reputation of Poussin marked him out as the person
-best qualified for the partial execution and entire superintendence
-of these splendid works; and accordingly a letter was transmitted to
-him by order of the French monarch, appointing him his principal
-painter, and requesting his immediate attendance at Paris. But so
-absorbed was the artist in his studies, and so unambitious was his
-temper, that he allowed two years to elapse before he attended to this
-flattering requisition; nor is it probable that he would have quitted
-Rome at all, had not a gentleman been despatched from the court
-of France to bring him. On his arrival, he was presented to the
-King, who received him with courtesy, and assigned him a liberal
-income. Placed in the full enjoyment of fame and wealth,
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_182'>182</span>Poussin’s situation might well appear enviable to his less favoured
-brethren in art. But his station, brilliant as it was, proved ill-suited
-to his disposition: and his letters to his friends in Rome
-were soon filled with the language of disappointment and complaint.
-He felt that he was no longer exercising his genius as an artist, but
-labouring as an artisan. Commissions were poured in upon him
-from the court with merciless rapidity, without the slightest calculation
-of the time requisite to the production of works of art. On
-one occasion he was required to execute a picture containing sixteen
-figures, larger than life, within six weeks. Nor was this the worst:
-the triflers of the court obtruded on him, with irritating politeness,
-the most insignificant employments; designs for chimney-pieces,
-ornamental cabinets, bindings for books, repairing pictures, &amp;c. To
-complete the catalogue of annoyances, his coadjutors in the public
-works, Le Mercier the architect, and the painters Vouet and
-Fouquieres, thwarted and opposed him in every particular; until at
-length, worn out and disgusted, he applied for permission to return to
-Rome. This he obtained with some difficulty, and not without a
-stipulation that he should revisit Paris within twelve months. It is
-not improbable that the condition would never have been fulfilled;
-but the King’s death in the following year released him from the
-obligation. The last works executed by Poussin in Paris were two
-allegorical subjects: the one, Time bringing Truth to light, and
-delivering her from the fiends, Malice and Envy; in which an allusion
-was most probably meant to the controversies in which he had been
-engaged: the other, in which his intention is less equivocal, is an
-imitation of bas-relief, in the ceiling of the Louvre, where his opponents,
-Fouquieres, Le Mercier, and Vouet, are consigned to the
-derision of posterity under the figures of Folly, Ignorance, and Envy.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Perhaps the happiest, and not an inconsiderable, portion of
-Poussin’s life, was that which intervened between his return to
-Rome and his death. Experience of the cabals and disquietudes of
-Paris had no doubt taught him to value the classical serenity of his
-adopted home. Although in possession of great and undisputed fame,
-and sufficiently affluent, he continued to labour in his art with unrelaxing
-diligence, if that may be called labour which constituted his
-highest gratification. His talents and moral worth drew round him
-a large circle of the learned and the polite, who anxiously sought
-his society during his leisure hours; and in his evening walks on the
-Pincian Hill, he might have been said to resemble one of the philosophers
-of antiquity, surrounded by his friends and disciples. Thus he
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_183'>183</span>descended, with tranquil dignity, into the vale of life. In 1665 he
-suffered from a stroke of the palsy, and, shortly after, the death of
-his wife plunged him into the deepest affliction. He perceived his
-own end to be approaching, and awaited it with calm resignation.
-He died in his 72d year, <span class='sc'><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">A. D.</span></span> 1665, and was buried with public
-honours in the church of San Lorenzo in Lucina.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>The pictures of Poussin are so numerous, and so generally dispersed,
-that every one, whose attention has been directed to the arts,
-must have a pretty accurate impression of his style. It is a style of
-perfect originality, reminding us somewhat of ancient art, but without
-a tincture of imitation of any modern master. For a short time
-Poussin sought a model in the school of Titian, but turned from that
-task to copy the pictures discovered among the ruins of ancient
-Rome. Apparently he wished to give his works something of the
-subdued tone which Time has communicated to those relics; and
-hence, in some of his pictures, there is a singular discrepancy between
-the subject and the effect. He delighted to paint antique revels, bacchanalians,
-dancing nymphs, &amp;c.; but his tints never accord with gay
-subjects, nor exhibit the vivacity and freshness proper to such scenes.
-The solemn and sombre hue of his colouring is far better adapted
-to grand or pathetic subjects. Considering the implicit and almost
-idolatrous admiration with which Poussin regarded the antique statues,
-it is astonishing that he should not have infused into his own forms
-more of the spirit in which these are conceived; for, in this point,
-imitation could not have been carried too far. But the reverse is the
-case: his figures are direct transcripts of individual models, usually
-correct in proportion, but seldom rendered ideal, or generalized into
-beauty. A still greater defect is chargeable on his composition, which
-is almost invariably scattered and confused, without a centre of interest
-or point of unity. His principal figures are mixed up with the subordinate
-ones, and those again with the accessories in the back-ground.
-What, then, are the qualities by which Poussin has acquired his high
-reputation? The principal one we conceive to consist in that very
-simplicity and severity, by which perhaps the eye is at first offended.
-He appears to feel himself above the necessity of superficial ornament.
-He is always thoroughly in earnest; his figures perform
-their business with an emphasis which rivets our attention, we
-become identified with the subject, and lose all thought of the painter
-in his performance. This is a result never produced by an inferior
-artist. On the whole, although we cannot assign Poussin a place by
-the side of Raffaelle, Rubens, Titian, and some others, who may be
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_184'>184</span>considered the giants of art, and compose the foremost rank, he certainly
-stands among those who are most eminent in the second. His
-compositions, which are very numerous, are varied with great skill,
-and surprise us, not unfrequently, with novel and striking combinations;
-and several among them—we may adduce particularly the
-Ark of God among the Philistines, the Deluge, and the Slaughter
-of the Innocents—could only have originated in a mind of a very
-exalted order.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Several of Poussin’s finest works are in this country. In the
-Dulwich Gallery there is, we believe, the largest number to be found
-in any one collection. Among those, the subject of the Angels appearing
-to Abraham is treated with considerable grace and beauty. The
-picture of Moses striking the rock, in the possession of the Marquis of
-Stafford, is one of Poussin’s most profound and elaborate performances;
-and, in the National Gallery, the two Bacchanalian subjects will furnish
-a full idea both of his powers and deficiencies in treating that favourite
-class of compositions.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>The reader will find a more detailed account of the life and works
-of Poussin in Lanzi’s ‘<span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Storia Pittorica dell’Italia</span>,’ and Bellori’s ‘<span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Vite
-di Pittori moderni</span>.’ There is an English life of him written by Maria
-Graham. Much critical information concerning his style and performances
-will be found in the writings of Mengs, Reynolds, and
-Fuseli.</p>
-
-<div  class='figcenter id002'>
-<img src='images/i_184.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' />
-<div class='ic001'>
-<p>[Holy Family; from a picture by Poussin.]</p>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<div  class='figcenter id001'>
-<img src='images/i_185fp.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' />
-<div class='ic001'>
-<p><em>Engraved by E. Scriven.</em><br /><br />W. HARVEY, M.D.<br /><br /><em>From the original Picture by C. Jansen in the possession of the Royal Society.</em><br /><br />Under the Superintendance of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge.<br /><br /><em>London. Published by Charles Knight, Pall Mall East.</em></p>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<div  class='figcenter id002'>
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_185'>185</span>
-<img src='images/i_185.jpg' alt='HARVEY.' class='ig001' />
-</div>
-
-<div class='chapter'>
-  <h2 class='c006'>HARVEY</h2>
-</div>
-
-<p class='c011'>William Harvey was born on the 1st of April, 1578, at Folkstone,
-on the southern coast of Kent. He was the eldest of nine children;
-of the rest little more is known than that several of the brothers were
-among the most eminent merchants in the city of London during the
-reigns of the two first Stuarts. His father, Thomas Harvey, followed
-no profession. He married Joanna Falke at the age of twenty, and
-lived upon his own estate at Folkstone. This property devolved by
-inheritance upon his eldest son; and the greatest part of it was eventually
-bequeathed by him to the college at which he was educated.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>At ten years of age he commenced his studies at the grammar school
-in Canterbury; and upon the 31st of May, 1593, soon after the completion
-of his fifteenth year, was admitted as a pensioner at Caius
-College, Cambridge.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>At that time a familiar acquaintance with logic and the learned
-languages was indispensable as a first step in the prosecution of all
-the branches of science, especially of medicine; and the skill with
-which Harvey avails himself of the scholastic form of reasoning in his
-great work on the Circulation, with the elegant Latin style of all his
-writings, particularly of his latest work on the Generation of Animals,
-afford a sufficient proof of his diligence in the prosecution of these
-preliminary studies during the next four years, which he spent at Cambridge.
-The two next were occupied in visiting the principal cities
-and seminaries of the Continent. He then prepared to address himself
-to those investigations to which the rest of his life was devoted; and
-the scene of his introduction to them could not have been better chosen
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_186'>186</span>than at the University of Padua, where he became a student in his
-twenty-second year.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>The ancient physicians gathered what they knew of anatomy from
-inaccurate dissections of the lower animals; and the slender knowledge
-thus acquired, however inadequate to unfold the complicated
-functions of the human frame, was abundantly sufficient as a basis
-for conjecture, of which they took full advantage. With them
-every thing became easy to explain, precisely because nothing was
-understood; and the nature and treatment of disease, the great object
-of medicine and of its subsidiary sciences, was hardily abandoned
-to the conduct of the imagination, and sought for literally among the
-stars. Nevertheless, so firmly was their authority established, that
-even down to the close of the sixteenth century the naturalists of
-Europe still continued to derive all their physiology, and the greater
-part of their anatomy and medicine, from the works of Aristotle and
-Galen, read not in the original Greek, but re-translated into Latin
-from the interpolated versions of the Arabian physicians. The
-opinions entertained by these dictators in the republic of letters, and
-consequently by their submissive followers, with regard to the structure
-and functions of the organs concerned in the circulation, were
-particularly fanciful and confused, so much so that it would be no
-easy task to give an intelligible account of them that would not be
-tedious from its length. It will be enough to say, that a scarcely
-more oppressive mass of mischievous error was cleared away from
-the science of astronomy by the discovery of Newton, than that from
-which physiology was disencumbered by the discovery of Harvey.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>But though the work was completed by an Englishman, it is to
-Italy that, in anatomy, as in most of the sciences, we owe the first
-attempts to cast off the thraldom of the ancients. Mundinus had published
-a work in the year 1315, which contained a few original observations
-of his own; and his essay was so well received that it remained
-the text-book of the Italian schools of anatomy for upwards of two
-centuries. It was enriched from time to time by various annotators,
-among the chief of whom were Achillini, and Berengarius, the first
-person who published anatomical plates. But the great reformer of
-anatomy was Vesalius, who, born at Brussels in 1514, had attained
-such early celebrity during his studies at Paris and Louvain, that he
-was invited by the republic of Venice in his twenty-second year to the
-chair of anatomy at Padua, which he filled for seven years with the
-highest reputation. He also taught at Bologna, and subsequently, by
-the invitation of Cosmo de’ Medici, at Pisa. The first edition of his
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_187'>187</span>work ‘<span lang="la" xml:lang="la">De Corporis Humani fabricâ</span>,’ was printed at Basle in the
-year 1543; it is perhaps one of the most successful efforts of human
-industry and research, and from the date of its publication begins an
-entirely new era in the science of which it treats. The despotic sway
-hitherto maintained in the schools of medicine by the writings of
-Aristotle and Galen was now shaken to its foundation, and a new
-race of anatomists eagerly pressed forward in the path of discovery.
-Among these no one was more conspicuous than Fallopius, the disciple,
-successor, and in fame the rival, of Vesalius, at Padua. After
-him the anatomical professorship was filled by Fabricius ab Aquapendente,
-the last of the distinguished anatomists who flourished at
-Padua in the sixteenth century.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Harvey became his pupil in 1599, and from this time he appears to
-have applied himself seriously to the study of anatomy. The first germ
-of the discovery which has shed immortal honour on his name and
-country was conceived in the lecture-room of Fabricius.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>He remained at Padua for two years; and having received the degree
-of Doctor in Arts and Medicine with unusual marks of distinction,
-returned to England early in the year 1602. Two years afterwards
-he commenced practice in London, and married the daughter of Dr.
-Launcelot Browne, by whom he had no children. He became a fellow
-of the College of Physicians when about thirty years of age, having in
-the mean time renewed his degree of Doctor in Medicine at Cambridge;
-and was soon after elected Physician to St. Bartholomew’s Hospital,
-which office he retained till a late period of his life.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>On the 4th of August, 1615, he was appointed Reader of Anatomy
-and Surgery to the College of Physicians. From some scattered
-hints in his writings it appears that his doctrine of the circulation
-was first advanced in his lectures at the college about four
-years afterwards; and a note-book in his own handwriting is still
-preserved at the British Museum, in which the principal arguments
-by which it is substantiated are briefly set down, as if for reference in
-the lecture-room. Yet with the characteristic caution and modesty of
-true genius, he continued for nine years longer to reason and experimentalize
-upon what is now considered one of the simplest, as it is
-undoubtedly the most important, known law of animal nature; and it
-was not till the year 1628, the fifty-first of his life, that he consented
-to publish his discovery to the world.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>In that year the ‘<span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Exercitatio Anatomica de Motu Cordis et
-Sanguinis</span>’ was published at Frankfort. This masterly treatise begins
-with a short outline and refutation of the opinions of former anatomists
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_188'>188</span>on the movement of the animal fluids and the function of the heart;
-the author discriminating with care, and anxiously acknowledging the
-glimpses of the truth to be met with in their writings; as if he had not
-only kept in mind the justice due to previous discoveries, and the
-prudence of softening the novelty and veiling the extent of his own,
-but had foreseen the preposterous imputation of plagiarism, which, with
-other inconsistent charges, was afterwards brought forward against
-him. This short sketch is followed by a plain exposition of the
-anatomy of the circulation, and a detail of the results of numerous
-experiments; and the new theory is finally maintained in a strain of
-close and powerful reasoning, and followed into some of its most
-important consequences. The whole argument is conducted in simple
-and unpretending language, with great perspicuity, and scrupulous
-attention to logical form.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>The doctrine announced by Harvey may be briefly stated thus:—</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>When the blood supplied for the various processes which are carried
-on in the living body has undergone a certain degree of change, it requires
-to be purified by the act of respiration. For this purpose it is
-urged onwards by fresh blood from behind into the veins; and returning
-in them from all parts of the body, enters a cavity of the heart called the
-<em>right auricle</em>. At the same time the purified blood returning from
-the lungs by the pulmonary veins, passes into the <em>left auricle</em>. When
-these two cavities, which are distinct from each other, are sufficiently
-dilated, they contract, and force the blood which they contain into two
-other much more muscular cavities called respectively the right and
-left <em>ventricle</em>, all retrogression into the auricles being prevented by
-valves, which admit of a passage in one direction only. The ventricles
-then contract in their turn with great force, and at the same instant;
-and propel their blood, the right, by the pulmonary artery into the
-lungs; the left, which is much the stronger of the two, into all parts
-of the body, by the great artery called the <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">aörta</span></i>, and its branches; all
-return being prevented as before by valves situated at the orifices of
-those vessels, which are closed most accurately when the ventricles
-relax, by the backward pressure of the blood arising from the elasticity
-of the arteries. Thus the purified blood passes from the lungs
-by the pulmonary veins through the left auricle into the ventricle of
-the same side, by which it is distributed into all parts of the body,
-driving the vitiated blood before it; and the vitiated blood is pushed into
-and along the veins to the right auricle, and thence is sent into the
-right ventricle, which propels it by the pulmonary artery through the
-lungs. In this manner a double circulation is kept up by the sole
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_189'>189</span>agency of the heart, through the lungs, and through the body; the
-contractions of the auricles and ventricles taking place alternately.
-To prevent any backward motion of the blood in the superficial
-veins, which might happen from their liability to external pressure,
-they are also provided with simple and very complete valves which
-admit of a passage only towards the heart. They were first remarked
-by Fabricius ab Aquapendente, and exhibited in his lectures to Harvey
-among the rest of his pupils; but their function remained a mystery
-till it was explained by the discovery of the circulation. It is related
-by Boyle, upon Harvey’s own authority, that the first idea of this
-comprehensive principle suggested itself to him when considering the
-structure of these valves.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>The pulmonary circulation had been surmised by Galen, and
-maintained by his successors; but no proof even of this insulated
-portion of the truth, more than amounted to strong probability, had
-been given till the time of Harvey; and no plausible claim to the
-discovery, still less to the demonstration, of the general circulation
-has ever been set up in opposition to his. Indeed its truth was quite
-inconsistent with the ideas everywhere entertained in the schools on
-the functions of the heart and other viscera, and was destructive of
-many favourite theories. The new doctrine, therefore, as may well
-be supposed, was received by most of the anatomists of the period
-with distrust, and by all with surprise. Some of them undertook to
-refute it; but their objections turned principally on the silence of
-Galen, or consisted of the most frivolous cavils: the controversy, too,
-assumed the form of personal abuse even more speedily than is usually
-the case when authority is at issue with reason. To such opposition
-Harvey for some time did not think it necessary to reply; but some of
-his friends in England, and of the adherents to his doctrine on the Continent,
-warmly took up his defence. At length he was induced to take
-a personal share in the dispute in answer to Riolanus, a Parisian anatomist
-of some celebrity, whose objections were distinguished by some
-show of philosophy, and unusual abstinence from abuse. The answer
-was conciliatory and complete, but ineffectual to produce conviction;
-and in reply to Harvey’s appeal to direct experiment, his opponent
-urged nothing but conjecture and assertion. Harvey once more rejoined
-at considerable length; taking occasion to give a spirited rebuke to the
-unworthy reception he had met with, in which it seems that Riolanus
-had now permitted himself to join; adducing several new and conclusive
-experiments in support of his theory; and entering at large upon
-its value in simplifying physiology and the study of diseases, with
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_190'>190</span>other interesting collateral topics. Riolanus, however, still remained
-unconvinced; and his second rejoinder was treated by Harvey with
-contemptuous silence. He had already exhausted the subject in the
-two excellent controversial pieces just mentioned, the last of which is
-said to have been written at Oxford about 1545; and he never resumed
-the discussion in print. Time had now come to the assistance of
-argument, and his discovery began to be generally admitted. To this
-indeed his opponents contributed by a still more singular discovery of
-their own, namely, that the facts had been observed, and the important
-inference drawn long before. This was the mere allegation of
-envy, chafed at the achievements of another, which, from their apparent
-facility, might have been its own. It is indeed strange that the simple
-mechanism thus explained should have been unobserved or misunderstood
-so long; and nothing can account for it but the imperceptible
-lightness as well as the strength of the chains which authority imposes
-on the mind.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>In the year 1623 Harvey became Physician Extraordinary to James I.,
-and seven years later was appointed Physician to Charles. He followed
-the fortunes of that monarch, who treated him with great distinction,
-during the first years of the civil war, and he was present at the battle
-of Edgehill in 1642. Having been incorporated Doctor of Physic
-by the University of Oxford, he was promoted by Charles to the
-Wardenship of Merton College in 1645; but he did not retain this
-office very long, his predecessor Dr. Brent being reinstated by the
-parliament after the surrender of Oxford in the following year.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Harvey then returned to London and resided with his brother Eliab
-at Cockaine-house in the Poultry. About the time of Charles’s
-execution he gave up his practice, which had never been considerable,
-probably in consequence of his devotion to the scientific, rather than
-the practical parts of his profession. He himself, however, attributed
-his want of success to the enmity excited by his discovery. After a
-second visit to the Continent, he secluded himself in the country,
-sometimes at his own house in Lambeth, and sometimes with his
-brother Eliab at Combe in Surrey. Here he was visited by his friend
-Dr. Ent in 1651, by whom he was persuaded to allow the publication
-of his work on the Generation of Animals. It was the fruit of many
-years of experiment and meditation; and though the vehicle of no
-remarkable discovery, is replete with interest and research, and contains
-passages of brilliant and even poetical eloquence. The object of
-his work is to trace the germ through all its changes to the period of
-maturity; and the illustrations are principally drawn from the phenomena
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_191'>191</span>exhibited by eggs in the process of incubation, which he watched
-with great care, and has described with minuteness and fidelity. The
-microscope had not at that time the perfection it has since attained;
-and consequently Harvey’s account of the first appearance of the chick
-is somewhat inaccurate, and has been superseded by the observations of
-Malpighi, Hunter, and others. The experiments upon which he chiefly
-relied in this department of natural history had been repeated in the
-presence of Charles I., who appears to have taken great interest in
-the studies of his physician.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>In the year 1653, the seventy-fifth of his life, Harvey presented the
-College of Physicians with the title-deeds of a building erected in their
-garden, and elegantly fitted up at his expense, with a library and
-museum, and commodious apartments for their social meetings. Upon
-this occasion he resigned the Professorship of Anatomy, which he had
-held for nearly forty years, and was succeeded by Dr. Glisson.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>In 1654 he was elected to the Presidency of the College, which he
-declined on the plea of age; and the former President, Sir Francis
-Prujean, was re-elected at his request. Two years afterwards he made
-a donation to the college of a part of his patrimonial estate to the
-yearly value of £56, as a provision for the maintenance of the library
-and an annual festival and oration in commemoration of benefactors.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>At length his constitution, which had long been harassed by the
-gout, yielded to the increasing infirmities of age, and he died in his
-eightieth year, on the 3d of June, 1657. He was buried at Hempstead
-in Essex, in a vault belonging to his brother Eliab, who was his
-principal heir, and his remains were followed to the grave by a numerous
-procession of the body of which he had been so illustrious and
-munificent a member.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>The best edition of his works is that edited by the College of Physicians
-in 1766, to which is prefixed a valuable notice of his life, and
-an account of the controversy to which his discovery of the circulation
-gave rise. All that remain of his writings in addition to those which
-have been already mentioned, are an account of the dissection of Thomas
-Parr, who died at the age of 153, and a few letters addressed to various
-Continental anatomists. His lodgings at Whitehall had been plundered
-in the early part of the civil war, of many papers containing manuscript
-notes of experiments and observations, chiefly relating to comparative
-anatomy. This was a loss which he always continued to lament. The
-missing papers have never been recovered.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>In person he was below the middle size, but well-proportioned. He
-had a dark complexion, black hair, and small lively eyes. In his youth
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_192'>192</span>his temper is said to have been very hasty. If so he was cured of this
-defect as he grew older; for nothing can be more courteous and temperate
-than his controversial writings, and the genuine kindness and
-modesty which were conspicuous in all his dealings with others, with
-his instructive conversation, gained him many attached and excellent
-friends. He was fond of meditation and retirement; and there is
-much in his works to characterize him as a man of warm and
-unaffected piety.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>There are several histories of his life; a very elegant one has lately
-been published in a volume of the Family Library, entitled ‘Lives of
-British Physicians.’</p>
-
-<div  class='figcenter id001'>
-<img src='images/i_193fp.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' />
-<div class='ic001'>
-<p><em>Engraved by C. E. Wagstaff.</em><br /><br />SIR J. BANKS.<br /><br /><em>From a Picture by J. Phillips, in the possession of the Royal Society.</em><br /><br />Under the Superintendance of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge.<br /><br /><em>London. Published by Charles Knight, Pall Mall East.</em></p>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<div  class='figcenter id002'>
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_193'>193</span>
-<img src='images/i_193.jpg' alt='BANKS' class='ig001' />
-</div>
-
-<div class='chapter'>
-  <h2 class='c006'>BANKS</h2>
-</div>
-
-<p class='c011'>Posterity is likely to do scanty justice to the merits of Banks, when
-the grateful recollections of his contemporaries shall have passed away.
-His name is connected with no great discovery, no striking improvement;
-and he has left no literary works from which the extent of his
-industry, or the amount of his knowledge can be estimated. Yet he
-did much for the cause of science; much by his personal exertions,
-more by a judicious and liberal use of the advantages of fortune. For
-more than half a century a zealous and successful student of natural
-history in general, and particularly of botany, the history of his scientific
-life is to be found in the records of science during that long and
-active period. We shall not attempt to compress so intricate and
-extensive a subject within the brief limits of three or four pages; but
-confine ourselves to a short sketch of his character and personal adventures.
-Some fitting person will, it is to be hoped, ere too late, undertake
-to write the life of our distinguished countryman upon a scale
-calculated to do justice to his merits: at present this task is not only
-unperformed, but unattempted.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Joseph Banks was born in London, February 13, 1743. Of his
-childhood we find few memorials. He passed through the ordinary
-routine of education; having been first committed to the care of a
-private tutor at home, then placed at Harrow, afterwards at Eton, and
-finally sent to complete his studies at Christchurch, Oxford. Born to
-the inheritance of an ample fortune, and left an orphan at the age of
-eighteen, it is no small praise that he was not allured by the combined
-temptations of youth, wealth, and freedom, to seek his happiness in
-vicious, or even idle pleasures. Science, in one of its most attractive
-branches, the study of animated nature, was his amusement as a
-schoolboy, and the favourite pursuit of his mature years: and he was
-rewarded for his devotion, not merely in the rank and estimation which
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_194'>194</span>he obtained by its means, but also in his immunity from the dangers
-which society throws in the way of those who have the means of
-gratifying their own passions, and the vanities and interests of their
-friends.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>He quitted the university in the year 1763. In 1766 he gave a
-proof of his zeal for knowledge by engaging in a voyage to Newfoundland.
-He was induced to choose that most unattractive region, by
-having the opportunity of accompanying a friend, Lieutenant Phipps,
-afterwards Lord Mulgrave, well known as a navigator of the Polar
-Seas, who was sent out in a ship of war to protect the fisheries. Soon
-after his return a much more interesting and important field of inquiry
-was opened to him by the progress of discovery in the southern hemisphere.
-In 1764 Commodore Byron, in 1766 Captains Wallis and
-Carteret were sent into the South Sea, to investigate the geography of
-that immense and then unfrequented region. These expeditions were
-succeeded in 1768 by another under the command of Captain Cook,
-who first obtained celebrity as a navigator upon this occasion. Lord
-Sandwich, then First Lord of the Admiralty, possessed an estate in
-Lincolnshire on the borders of Whittlesea Mere. Mr. Banks’s chief
-property lay in the same neighbourhood: and it so chanced that
-similarity of tastes, and especially a common predilection for all
-aquatic amusements, had produced a great intimacy between the statesman
-and his young country neighbour. To this fortunate circumstance
-it may probably be ascribed, that on Mr. Banks expressing
-a wish to accompany the projected expedition, his desire was immediately
-granted. His preparations were made on the most liberal scale.
-He laid in an ample store of such articles as would be useful or acceptable
-to the savage tribes whom he was about to visit: and besides the
-usual philosophical apparatus of a voyage of discovery, he engaged two
-draughtsmen to make accurate representations of such objects as could
-not be preserved, or conveyed to England; and he secured the services
-of Dr. Solander, a Swedish naturalist, a pupil of Linnæus, who had
-previously been placed on the establishment of the British Museum.
-The history of this voyage belongs to the life of Cook. The expedition
-bent its course for the Southern Ocean, through the Straits of Le
-Maire, at the southern end of America. Mr. Banks and Dr. Solander
-landed on the desolate island of Terra del Fuego, where the severity
-of the cold had very nearly proved fatal to several of their party.
-Dr. Solander in particular was so entirely overcome by the drowsiness
-consequent on extreme cold and exhaustion, that it was with
-great difficulty, and by the unwearied exertion and resolution of his
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_195'>195</span>more robust companion, that he was prevented from falling into that
-sleep which is the forerunner of death. Their farther course lay
-through the islands of the Pacific Ocean to Otaheite, which had been
-selected as a fitting place for the main object of the voyage, the observing
-of the passage of Venus over the sun’s disk. At that island their stay
-was consequently prolonged for several months, during which the
-Europeans and the natives mingled together, generally on the most
-friendly terms. In this intercourse Mr. Banks took a very leading
-part. His liberality, and the high station which he evidently held
-among the strangers, conciliated the attachment and respect of the
-unpolished islanders: and the mingled suavity and firmness of his
-temper and demeanour rendered him singularly fitted both to protect the
-weaker party from the occasional wantonness or presumption of their
-visitors, and to check their knavery, and obtain satisfaction for the
-thefts which they not unfrequently committed. Once the astronomical
-purposes of the navigators were nearly frustrated by the loss of the large
-brass quadrant; and the recovery of this important instrument was
-chiefly due to the exertions and influence of Mr. Banks. Both hemispheres
-owe to him a tribute of gratitude; for while he gave the savages
-the improved tools, the esculent vegetables, and the domesticated
-animals of Europe, his exertions led to the introduction of the breadfruit,
-and of the productive sugar-cane peculiar to Otaheite, into our
-West-India colonies.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>After the lapse of three years the voyagers returned home, and
-were received with lively interest by all classes of society. Part of
-their collections were lost through an accident which happened to the
-vessel: but the greater portion was preserved, and their novelty and
-beauty excited the admiration of naturalists. George III., who
-delighted in everything connected with horticulture and farming,
-manifested a warm interest in inquiring into the results of the expedition,
-and conceived a liking for the young traveller, which continued
-unimpaired even to the close of his public life.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>It was Mr. Banks’s intention to accompany Captain Cook in his
-second voyage, in 1772: but the Navy Board showed no willingness to
-provide that accommodation which the extent of his preparations and the
-number of his scientific followers required, and he gave up the project,
-which indeed he could not satisfactorily execute. In the summer of that
-year he went to Iceland. Passing along the western coast of Scotland,
-he was led to visit Staffa, in consequence of local information; and to
-his description that singular island was first indebted for its general
-celebrity. He spent a month in Iceland. An account of this visit
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_196'>196</span>has been published by M. Von Troil, a Swedish clergyman, who
-formed one of the party. On this, as on other occasions, Mr. Banks,
-unwearied in quest of knowledge, seemed careless of the fame to which
-most would have aspired as the reward of their labours. Of none of
-his travels has he himself given any account in a separate publication;
-indeed, a few papers in the Horticultural Transactions, and a very
-curious account of the causes of mildew in corn, not printed for
-sale, constitute the mass of his published works. But his visit was
-productive of much good to the Icelanders, though it remained uncommemorated
-in expensive quartos. He watched over their welfare, when
-their communication with Denmark was interrupted by war between
-that country and England; and twice sent cargoes of corn, at his own
-expense, to relieve their sufferings in seasons of scarcity. His benevolence
-was warmly acknowledged by the Danish Court.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Returning to England, Mr. Banks, at the early age of thirty, entered
-on that tranquil and useful course of life, from which during a long
-series of years he never deviated. His thirst for travel was checked
-or satiated; he undertook no more distant expeditions, but he ceased
-not to cultivate the sciences, for which he had undergone so many
-hardships. It was long hoped that he would publish some account of
-the rich harvest of vegetable productions which he had collected in the
-unknown regions of the Pacific; and for this purpose it was known
-that he had caused a very large number of plates to be engraved at a
-great expense: but, most probably owing to the death of Solander,
-these have never been given to the world. But if he hesitated to
-communicate himself to the public the results of his labours, in amends
-his museum and his library were placed most freely at the command
-of those who sought, and were able to profit by his assistance; and to
-these sources many splendid works, especially on botany, have mainly
-owed their merits, and perhaps their existence.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>From the period of his return from Iceland Mr. Banks took an
-active part in the affairs of the Royal Society. His house was constantly
-open to men of science, whether British or foreign, and by the
-urbanity of his manners, and his liberal use of the advantages of fortune,
-he acquired that popularity which six years afterwards led to his
-election as President of that distinguished body. Two or three years
-afterwards a dangerous schism had nearly arisen in the Society,
-chiefly in consequence of the unreasonable anger of a party of mathematicians,
-headed by Dr. Horsley, afterwards Bishop of St. David’s,
-who looked with contempt on sciences unsusceptible of mathematical
-proof, and loudly exclaimed against the chair of Newton being
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_197'>197</span>filled, as they phrased it, by an amateur. It would be little profitable
-to rake up the embers of an ancient and unworthy feud.
-We shall only state therefore that Banks was elected in November,
-1778; that for some time a violent opposition was raised against
-him; and that in January, 1784, the Society, by a formal resolution,
-declared itself satisfied with the choice which it had made.
-Horsley and a few others seceded, and for the rest of his life Banks
-continued the undisputed and popular president; a period of forty-one
-years from the epoch of his election.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>We have said that at an early age Mr. Banks was fortunate in
-gaining the royal favour; marks of which were not wanting. In
-1781 he was created a baronet; in 1795 he received the Order of
-the Bath, then very rarely bestowed upon civilians and commoners;
-and in 1797 he was made a Privy Councillor. The friendship between
-the King and the subject was cemented by similarity of pursuits; for
-the latter was a practical farmer as well as a philosopher, and under
-his care the value of his estates in Lincolnshire was considerably
-increased by improvements in the drainage of that singular country, in
-the direction of which Sir Joseph took an active part. He is said to
-have possessed such influence over the King’s mind, that ministers
-sometimes availed themselves of it to recommend a measure unpalatable
-to their honest but somewhat obstinate master. We know not whether
-this be better founded than most other stories of back-stairs influence,
-easily thrown out and difficult to be refuted: it is at least certain
-that if Banks possessed such power, he deserves great credit for the
-singular moderation with which he used it. For himself he asked and
-received nothing: fortunately his station in society was one which
-renders disinterestedness an easy, if not a common virtue. His
-influence was directed to facilitate scientific undertakings, to soften to
-men of science the inconveniences of the long war of the Revolution,
-to procure the restoration of their papers and collections when taken
-by an enemy, or the alleviation of their sufferings in captivity. The
-French were especially indebted to him for such services. It is said
-by an eminent member of the Institute, in his Eloge upon Banks, that
-no less than ten times, collections addressed to the Jardin du Roi at
-Paris, and captured by the English, were restored by his intercession
-to their original destination. He thought that national hostility should
-find no entrance among followers of science; and the delicacy of his
-views on this subject is well displayed in a letter written on one
-of these occasions to Jussieu, where he says that he would on no
-account rob of a single botanical idea a man who had gone to seek
-<span class='pageno' id='Page_198'>198</span>them at the peril of his life. In 1802 the National Institute of France,
-being then re-modelled, elected him at the head of their Foreign
-Associates, whose number was limited to eight. Cavendish, Maskelyne,
-and Herschel were also members of this distinguished list. In
-replying to the letter which announced this honour, Sir Joseph Banks
-expressed his gratitude in terms which gave offence to some members
-of that distinguished Society over which he himself presided. This
-exposed him to a virulent attack from an anonymous enemy, who published
-the letter in question in the English papers, accompanied by a
-most acrimonious address to the author of it; prompted, it is evident,
-not so much by a reasonable and patriotic jealousy, as by ancient
-pique, and a bitter detestation even of the science of revolutionary
-France.</p>
-
-<p class='c000'>Towards the close of life Sir Joseph Banks, who in youth had possessed
-a robust constitution, and a dignified and prepossessing figure,
-was grievously afflicted by gout. He endured the sufferings of disease
-with patience and cheerfulness, and died May 19, 1820, leaving no
-children. Lady Banks, whom he had married in 1779, survived him
-several years. His magnificent library he devised to the British
-Museum; and among other bequests for scientific purposes, he left an
-annuity to Mr. Frederic Bauer, an artist whom he had long employed
-in making botanical drawings from the garden at Kew, upon condition
-that he should continue the series.</p>
-
-<div  class='figcenter id001'>
-<img src='images/i_198.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' />
-<div class='ic001'>
-<p>Banksia ericifolia.</p>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<div class='nf-center-c1'>
-<div class='nf-center c003'>
-    <div>END OF VOL. I.</div>
-  </div>
-</div>
-
-<div class='pbb'>
- <hr class='pb c002' />
-</div>
-<div class='tnotes'>
-
-<div class='chapter'>
-  <h2 class='c006'>TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES</h2>
-</div>
- <ol class='ol_1 c003'>
-    <li>Changed “he had a numerous offspring” to “he had numerous offspring” on p. <a href='#t3'>3</a>.
-
-    </li>
-    <li>Changed “campaigns bolder style” to “campaigns a bolder style” on p. <a href='#t70'>70</a>.
-
-    </li>
-    <li>Silently corrected typographical errors.
-
-    </li>
-    <li>Retained anachronistic and non-standard spellings as printed.
-
-    </li>
-  </ol>
-
-</div>
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-<pre>
-
-
-
-
-
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