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 BIOGRAPHICAL DICTIONARY, 
 
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 NEW 
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL DICTIONARY, 
 
 AND 
 
 AMERICAN REMEMBRANCER, 
 
 Churchill, (John) Duke of Marlborough and 
 Prince of the Holy Roman Empire, a most renowned 
 general and statesman, was born in Devonshire, En- 
 gland, in 1650. A clergyman in the neighbourhood, 
 instructed him in the first principles of literature ; 
 but his father having other views than what a learned 
 education afforded, carried him early to court, where 
 he was particularly favoured by James Duke of York, 
 afterwards king James II. when only twelve years of 
 age. In 1666, he was made an ensign of the guards, 
 during the first Dutch war ; and afterwards improved 
 himself greatly in the military art at Tangier, which 
 was then in the hands of the English. In 1672, the 
 Duke of Monmouth commanding a body of English 
 auxiliaries in the French service, Churchill attended 
 him, and was soon after made a captain in the Duke's 
 own regiment. At the siege of Nimeguen, which 
 happened in that campaign, he distinguished himself 
 so much, that he was taken notice of by the celebrat- 
 ed Marshal Turenne, who bestowed on him the name 
 of the h(mdso7ne Englishman, In 1673, he was at the 
 siege at Masstricht, where he gained such applause. 
 
4 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 that the king of France thankfd him for his behaviour 
 at the head of the line : and the Duke of Monmouth, 
 who had the direction of the attack, afterwards told 
 king Charles U, that he owed his life to Mr. Church- 
 ill's bravery. 
 
 In 1681, he married Sarah Jennings, a young Iad)r, 
 \vho waited upon Anne, afterwards queen of Great- 
 Britain ; by which means, he greatly strengthened his 
 interest at court. Jn 1682, he was created baron of 
 Eymouth, in Scotland, and made colonel of the third 
 troop of guards. 
 
 Jn 1^65^ upon the accession of James II. to the 
 throne, he was continued in all his posts, and also ho- 
 noured with a special embassy to France ; and was 
 after his return, created a peer of England, by the ti- 
 tle of baron Churchill. 
 
 In June J 685, when the Duke of Monmouth, the 
 ratural son of Charles II. had landed in England, and 
 got himself proclaimed king, in Somersetshire, Church- 
 ill being then lieutenant general of his Majesty's for- 
 ces, was ordered into the west to suppress the rebel- 
 lion, which he accomplished in less than a month, and 
 took the Duke himself prisoner, who was beheaded 
 on the J 5th July following. When James shewed 
 an intention of establishing the Catholic religion in 
 Britain, Lord Churchill, notwithsianding the great 
 obligations he owed him, thought i.t his duty to aban- 
 don his cause ; but even then did not leave him, 
 without acquainting him by letter of the reason of his 
 so doing. 
 
 Lord Churchill was graciously received by the prince 
 of Orange, and was by him first employed ^o re assem.- 
 ble the troop of guards, at London, and afterwards to 
 new m.odel the army ; for Vv'hich purpose he was in- 
 vested by him, with the rank and title of lieutenant- 
 general. 1 he prince and princess of Orange being 
 declared king and queen of England, Feb. loth 1689, 
 Lord Churchill was sw-orn of their privy council, and 
 soon after raised to the dignity of Earl of Marlbo- 
 
DICTIONARY, S 
 
 rough. He assisted at the coronation of their majes- 
 ties, and was soon sfter made commander in chief of 
 the English forces sent over to Holland He acted 
 in that capacity at the battle of Walcourt, in 1689, 
 and gave such extraordinary proofs of his skill, that 
 prince Wal Icck, speaking in his commendation to 
 king William, declared, that " he saw more into the 
 art of war in a day, than some generals in many 
 years/* 
 
 In 1690, he was made general of the forces sent to 
 Ireland, where he made the strong garrisons of Cork 
 and Kinsale prisoners of war. The year following, 
 king William shewed the good opinion he had of his 
 conduct, by sending him over to Flanders, to draw 
 the army together against his arrival. All these ser- 
 vices, however, did not hinder his being disgraced at 
 court in 1692, in a very surprising manner ; for with- 
 out the least previous notice, he received a message, 
 " that the king had no farther occasion for his services." 
 This strange and unexpected blow, was soon after fol- 
 lowed by his being committed to the tower, on an ac- 
 cusation of high treason, which, however, was after- 
 wards found to be a false and malicious report, the au- 
 thors of which were severely punished. 
 
 Marlborough was soon restored to favour, and in 
 1698 was appointed governor to the Earl of Glouces- 
 ter, with this extraordinary compliment from king 
 William : " My Lord, make him but what vou are, 
 and my nephew will be what I want to see him." 
 He continued in favour till the king*s death, who, a 
 little before that event, recommended him to Anne, 
 princess of Denmark, as the most proper person to be 
 trusted with the command of the army. Upon the 
 accession of that princess to the throne,' in 1704, her 
 majesty, whose principal favourite was Lady Church- 
 ill, loaded his lordship with honours. He was elected 
 knight of the garter, appointed captain general of all 
 her majesty's torces, and sent ambassador extraordi- 
 nary to Holland. She could not have made a better 
 
K^ NEW BIOGRAPHICAIr 
 
 choice of a general and statesman, for in both these 
 capacities his lordship greatly excelled. 
 
 After several conferences about a war, he put him- 
 self at the head of the army, where all the other gene- 
 rals had orders to obey him. The earl took the com- 
 mand June 20th 1702, and discerning that the states 
 were made uneasy by the places, which the enemy 
 held en their frontiers, he began with attacking and 
 reducing them. Accordingly, in this single cam- 
 paign, he made himself master of the castles of Gra- 
 venbroeck and Waerts, the towns of Venlo, Rure- 
 mond and Stevenswaert, together with the citadel of 
 Liege. These advantages were considerable, and 
 acknowledged as such by the states ; but they had 
 Jike to have been of very short date, for the army sepa- 
 rating in the neighbourhood of Liege, Nov. 3d, the 
 carl was taken the next day in his passage by water, 
 by a small party from the garrison of Gueldres ; but 
 it being towards night, and the earl insisting upon an 
 old pass given to his brother, was suffered to proceed, 
 and arrived at the Hague, when the army were in the 
 utmost consternation, at the accident, which had be- 
 fallen him. Upon the close of this campaign, he was 
 created Duke of Marlborough, with a pension of 
 22,200 dollars per annum, to devolve forever on those 
 enjoying the title of Duke of Marlborough. 
 
 The nature of our work, will not suffer us to relate 
 all the military transactions, in which the Duke of 
 Marlborough was engaged. This far, however, may 
 be «ientioned, that numerous as they were, they were 
 all successful. In the spring of 1703, the French 
 had a great army in Flanders, in the low countries, 
 and in that part of Germany, which the elector of 
 Cologne had put into their hands, and prodigiouis pre- 
 parations were made under the most experienced 
 commanders ; but such was the vigilance and activity 
 of the Duke, that he baffled them all. When the 
 campaign was over, he went to Dusseldorf, to meet* 
 the late emperor, then styled Charles 111. king of 
 
DICTIOKARV. T 
 
 Spain, w!io made him a present of a sword set with 
 diamonds , soon after which, his grace came over to 
 England. 
 
 In April 1704, he again embarked for Holland, 
 where staying about a month, to adjust the necessary 
 steps, he began his march towards the heart of Ger- 
 many ; and at last, on June 21st, very unexpectedly 
 arrived before the strong entrenchments of the enemy 
 at Schellenburgh, whom after an obstinate and bloody 
 conflict, he entirely routed. It was upon this occasi- 
 on, that he received a letter of thanks from the emper- 
 or Leopold written in his own hand, an honour sel- 
 dom done to any but foreign princes. He followed 
 up this success, till Aug. 2d, when the battle of 
 Blenheim was fought ; in consequence of which, the 
 empire ot Germany was saved from immediate de- 
 struction. Though prince Eugene was joined in 
 command with the Duke, yet the glory of the day 
 was confessedly owing to the latter. The French ge- 
 neral Tallard was taken prisoner and sent to England; 
 and 20,000 French or Bavarians were killed, wound- 
 ed or drowned in the Danube ; besides about 13,000 
 who were taken, and a proportionable number of can- 
 non, artillery, and trophies of war. 
 
 After the battle of Blenheim, he received congra- 
 tulatory letters from most of the potentates of Europe, 
 particularly from the states general and from the em- 
 peror, who desired him to accept of the dignity of a 
 prince of the emprie ; which was soon after confer- 
 red upon him by the title of prince of Mildenheim%i 
 the province of Swabia, After the campaign was 
 ended, he visited the court of Berlin, where by a 
 short negociation, he suspended the disputes betweea 
 the king of Prussia and the Dutch ; and by his wise 
 and conciliatory conduct, caused the whole confedera- 
 cy to acknowledge, that he had done the greatest ser* 
 vice possible to the common cause. Upon his return 
 to England, the queen received him with marks of 
 the highest esteem, and granted, at the request of 
 
f NEW BIOGRAPHIf?Al 
 
 parliament, the manor of Woodstock, to him and 
 his heirs forever. 
 
 The next vear 1705, he went over to Holland in 
 March, with a design to excute some great schemes, 
 which he had been projecting in the winter. The 
 campaign was attended with some successes, which 
 would have made a considerable figure, in a campaign 
 under any other general ; but are scarcely worth men- 
 tioning, where the Duke of Marlborough was con- 
 cerned. After spending some time at ihe courts of 
 Vienna, Berlin and Hanover, he returned to England 
 towards the close of the year. On the 7th January 
 1706, the House of Commons came to a resolution to 
 thank the Duke, as well for his prudent negociations, 
 as for his imiportant military services ; but notwith- 
 standing this, it very soon appeared, that there was a 
 strong party formed against the war, who, in the 
 prosecution of their object, did not hesitate to 
 bring the conduct, even of Marlborough, the idol of 
 the people, into obloquy and disgrace. 
 
 The next year distinguished the Duke, by the vic- 
 tory, which he obtained at the battle of Ramillies, 
 where the enemy had upwards of SOOO killed or 
 wounded, and 6000 taken prisoners. The Duke 
 was twice, here, in the utmost danger; once by a 
 fall from his horse, and a second time by a cannon 
 shot, which took off the head of a gentleman, who 
 was holding the stirrup for him to remount. The ad- 
 vantages gained by this victory, were so far improv- 
 ed, by tl e vigilance and wisdom of the Duke, that 
 Louvain, Brussels, and even Ghent and Bruges, sub- 
 mitted to Kii g Charles, without a stroke, and Oude- 
 narde surrendered upon the first summons. The city 
 of Antwerp followed this example; so that, in the 
 short space of a fortnight, the Duke reduced all Bra- 
 bant to acknowledge the title of King Charles. The 
 forces of the allies being about to separate, after this 
 campaign, his Grace went to the Hague, where the 
 proposals, which France had made, for a peace. 
 
DICTIONARY. 9 
 
 were communicated to the ministers of the allies, aS- 
 ter which he embarked for England. 
 
 He arrived in London, Nov. 18th 1706; and, 
 though, at this time, there was a strong party formed 
 against him, at court, yet, the great services he had 
 done the nation, and the personal regard of the queen, 
 procured him an universal good reception. The 
 thanks of both houses of parliament were voted to 
 him, in terms of the highest approbation : tlie last 
 day of the year was appointed for a general thanks- 
 giving, in which there was this singularitv observed, 
 that it was the second thanksgiving within the year, 
 and Blenheim house, which had been erected by her 
 majesty, to perpetuate the celebrity of his fam^\ was, 
 together with all his honours, bv an act o^' the legis- 
 lature, entailed upon the issue of his daughters. 
 
 The campaign of the year 1707, proved the most 
 barren one he ever made, which was chieBv owing 
 to a failure on the part of the allies, who began to 
 flag, in supporting the common cause ; but, on Jane 
 SOth, 1708, he defeated the French, at Oudenarde, 
 where they lost 4000 in the field, and about 7000 
 taken prisoners, and was otherwise so exceedingly 
 successful, that the French king thought fit, in the 
 beginning of 1709, to set on foot a negociation for 
 peace. The house of Coinmons, upon this occasion, 
 gave an uncommon testimony of their respect for the 
 Duke, by sending their speaker to Brussels, on pur- 
 pose to compliment him : and, on his first appear- 
 ance, in the house of Lords, he, likewise, received 
 the thanks of that assembly. 
 
 Marshal Villars commanded the French army, int 
 the campaign of 1709 ; and Lewis XIV. expressed 
 no small hopes of success, from the well known talents 
 of that officer. On the 1 1 th September, however, the 
 allies, under the command of the Duke, forced the 
 French lines at Malplaquet, near M ons, afccr a bloody 
 action, in which the French lost 15000 men. 
 
 Vol. 11. No. 9, B 
 
(30 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 As Lewis XIV. professed a readiness for peacc^ 
 the English, at last consented to a negociation, and 
 the conferences v/ere held at Gertrudenburgh 1710. 
 They were managed on the part of England by the 
 duke of Marlborough, and by the Marquis de Torcy 
 for the French. All his oiTers were rejected by the 
 Duke as only designed to amuse and divide the allies, 
 and the war was continued. 
 
 This unreasonable haughtiness of the Duke, at last 
 opened the eyes of the English nation to their true 
 interest : for though their warlike reputation had never 
 risen to a greater height than under his auspices, yet 
 as It too often happens, even in the most successful 
 wars, the burthens of the community were greatly in- 
 creased, and thousands of innocent victims were annu- 
 ally immolated for the purpose of promoting the views 
 of a few individuals, actuated by the baleful motives 
 of avarice or ambition. Awakened by these sen- 
 timents, peace became the favourite w^ish of the 
 people ; and as it was universally understood, that 
 Marlborough was opposed to that measure, he now 
 lost all his popularity. 
 
 JNIeans were found to convince the queen, that the 
 war, if continued, must prove ruinous to herself and 
 people ', her affections became entirely alienated from 
 the Dutchess of Marlborough, whose friends, in con- 
 sequence thereof, lost their places. In the House of 
 Lords, where the Duke's conduct had so often been 
 the subject of the highest eulogium, he was now ac- 
 cused to his face of having unnecessarily protracted 
 the w^ar ; and an enquiry was promoted in the I louse 
 of Commons, with a view to fix an imputation upon 
 him, of having appropriated large sums of the public 
 money to his own use. When a question to that pur- 
 pose had been carried in the house, the queen by a 
 letter conceived in very obscure terms, acquainted him 
 with her having no farther occasion for his services, 
 and dismissed him from all his employments. 
 
DICTIONARY. 11 
 
 His Situation became now extremely unpleasant, In 
 his native country : on the one hand, he was attacked 
 by the clamours of the populace, and by an host of 
 v/riters, who will ever be ready to vilify those, whom 
 they can insult with impunity : on the other hand, a 
 prosecution was commenced against him by the at- 
 torney general, for applying public money to his pri- 
 vate use ; and the workmen employed in building 
 Blenheim-house, though set at work by the crown, 
 were encouraged to sue him for the money, which 
 was due to them. This uneasiness, at last induced 
 him to gratify his enemies by going into a voluntary 
 exile : he accordingly embarked for the continent, in 
 Nov. 1712 ; from whence, after he had resided some 
 time on his principality at Mildenheim, he returned 
 to England 4th l^^ugust, 1714. 
 
 He was received with every possible demonstration 
 of joy, by those, who upon the decease of the queen, 
 which had happened upon the 1st August, were en- 
 trusted with the government ; and, upon the arrival of 
 George I. was particularly distinguished by acts of 
 royal favour, for he was again declared captain-gene- 
 ral and commander in chief of all his majesty's land 
 forces, and master of the ordnance. 
 
 His advice was of ijreat use in concertincr those 
 measures, by which the rebelHon in 1715 was crush.- 
 ed ; and this was the last effort he made in respect 
 to public affairs : for his infirmities increasing with his 
 years, he retired from business, and spent the greatest 
 part of his time, during the remainder of his life, at 
 one or other of his country houses. He died at 
 Windsor Lodge, June 16th 17L^2, aged 72. Upon 
 his demise, all parties united in doing honour, or ra- 
 ther justice to his merit; for whatever vices might 
 sully his private character, so numerous had been his 
 successes, and so great his reputation as a general', 
 that his very name was almost equivalent to an army. 
 The noble pile near Woodc^tock, which bears the name 
 of Blenheim^house, may justly be stilcd his raonu- 
 
12 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 ment ; but without pretending to the gift of prophe* 
 cv, one mav venture to predict, that the fame of his 
 military exploits will long survive that structure. If 
 he had foibles, as these are inseparable from human 
 nature, they were so hidden by the glare of his ex- 
 ploits, as to be scarcel*' perceptible. A certain para- 
 site, who thought to please Lord Bolingbroke by ridi- 
 culing the avarice of the Duke, was stopt short by 
 his lordship, who said " He was so very great a man> 
 that I had almost forgot he had that vice.'* 
 
 Our of a variety of anecdotes and testimonies con- 
 cerning thi'^ illustrious personage, the following selec- 
 tion may serve to illustrate his ruling passion and 
 character. 
 
 One of the first things which he did, when very 
 young, was to purchase a box, to pit his money in : 
 a strong indication of the economical, not to say, ava- 
 ricious temper,^ which accompanied him through life. 
 Dr. Joseph Wharton relates, that on the evening of a 
 very iin^H>rtant battle, the Duke was heard to chide 
 his servant for having been so extravagant as to light 
 four candies in his tent, when prince Eugene came 
 to confer with him. When any of his officers had 
 Solicited h'm fur a favour, in order to save himself 
 some pxpences, he would tell them' in the most oblig- 
 ing manner, that he would consider the business- 
 and come and dine with them. If he was mercenary 
 himself, he was well matched in his Dutchess, whose 
 disposition was equally sordid. She had long possess- 
 ed the greatest ascendancy over the queen, in conse- 
 quence of which, most offices w^ere obtained through 
 hc-r means ; but her patronage could seldom be pur- 
 chased without a pecuniary compensation. 
 
 D^an Swift, in one of his letters to Stella, relates 
 the following particulars ot the Duke of Marlborough : 
 ^* I was early this morning with Secretary St. John, 
 ^c. He told me, he had been with the Duke ot 
 Marlborough, who was lamenting his former wrong 
 steps in joining w ith the Whigs, and said, he was 
 
DICTIONARY. 13 
 
 worn out with age, fatigue and misfortunes. I swear 
 it pitied me ; and I really think they will not do well 
 in too much mortifying that man, although, indeed, 
 it is his own fault. He is covetous as hell, and ambi- 
 tious as the prince of it : he would fain have been 
 general for life, and has broken all endeavours for 
 peace, to keep his greatness and get money. He 
 told the queen ' he was neither covetous nor ambi- 
 tions.* She said, ' if she could have conveniently turned 
 about, she would have laughed, and could hardly for- 
 bear it in his face. He fell in with all the abominable 
 measures of the late ministry, because they gratified 
 him for their own designs : yet he has been a success- 
 ful general, and, I hope he will continue his com- 
 mand.'* 
 
 Lord Bolingbroke, in his letters on the study and 
 use of history, when speaking of the consternation 
 raised among the allies, by the death of King Wil- 
 liam, and of the joy, which that event gave to the 
 French, observes, *' that a short time shewed how 
 vain the fears of some and the hopes of others were. 
 By his death, the duke of Marlborough was raised to 
 the head of the army, and, indeed, of the confede- 
 racy ; where he, a new, a private man, a subject ac- 
 quired by merit and by management, a more decided 
 influence than high birth, confirmed authority and 
 even the crown of Great Britain had given to king 
 William. Not only all the parts of that vast machine, 
 the grand alliance, were kept more compact and en- 
 tire, but a more rapid and vigorous motion was given 
 to the whole : and, instead of languishing and dis- 
 astrous campaigns, we saw every scene of the war 
 full of action. All those wherein he appeared, and 
 many ot those, wherein he was not then an actor, 
 but an abettor, were crowned with the most trium- 
 phant success. I take, with pleasure, this opportu- 
 nity of doing justice to that great man, \\hos(^f(iul/s 
 1 knew, whose virtues I admired, and whose memo- 
 -ry, as the greatest general and as the greatest Oiinis- 
 
14 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 ter, that our country, or, perhaps, any other has pro- 
 duced, I honour." 
 
 Of Marlborough's exterior accomplishments, the 
 Earl of Chesterfield, in his letters to his son, says, that 
 of all the men he ever knew, the Duke possessed the 
 graces, in the highest degree ; and to those graces, 
 he ventures to ascribe the better half of his greatness 
 and riches. " He was," says he, " eminently illiterate, 
 wrote bad English, and spelt it still worse. He had 
 no share of what is commonly called parts ; that is, he 
 had no brightness, nothing shewing in his genius. 
 He had, most undoubtedly, an excellent good plain 
 understanding, with sound judgment ; but these alone 
 would have probably raised him but something higher 
 than they found him, which was page to king James 
 II. s queen. There the graces protected and promoted 
 him ; for whilst he was an ensign of the guards, the 
 Dutchess of Cleveland, then favourite mistress to king 
 Charles II. struck by those very graces, gave him 
 ^'.5000 (22,200 dollars,) with which he immediately 
 bought an annuity for his life of 2,200 dollars and 
 this was the foundation of his subsequent fortune. 
 His figure was beautiful ; but his manner was irre- 
 sistible either by man or woman. It w^as by this 
 engaging, graceful manner, that he was enabled dur- 
 ing all his wars, to connect the various jarring powers 
 of the grand alliance, and to carry them on to the 
 grand object of the war, notwithstanding their private 
 and separate views, jealousies and wrongheadedness- 
 es.'* He afterwards adds, " He was always cool, 
 and nobody ever observed the least variation in his 
 countenance : he could refuse more gracefully than 
 other people could grant ; and those, who went away 
 from him the most dissatisfied as to the substance of 
 their business, were yet personally charmed with him, 
 and in some degree comforted by his manner." 
 
 How much he has been celebrated by the English 
 poets, may be known by " Addison's Campaign," 
 *' Philip's Blenheim," &:c. 
 
DICTIONARY. f5 
 
 CICERO, (Marcus Tullius) one of the great- 
 est men of antiquity, whether we consider him as aa 
 orator, a statesman, or a philosopher, was born about 
 107 years before Christ. In his very active life, the 
 most striking incident is his detection of the conspi- 
 racy of Cataline and his accomplices, for the subver- 
 sion of the common weaUh. For his conduct in this 
 affair, he was honoured with the glorious title of 
 " Father of his Country." 
 
 As it would be too tedious to recapitulate the par- 
 ticular transactions of Cicero, which, to such of our 
 readers, as are acquainted with Roman history must 
 be already well known ; and to others, perhaps, would 
 not be deemed very interesting, we shall content our- 
 selves with a few circumstances respecting his death 
 and character. 
 
 Aker the settlement of the Roman Triumvirate 
 composed of Octavius, Antony, and Lepidus, these 
 three spent some time, in a close conference to adjust 
 the plan of their accommodation ; and the last thing 
 they adjusted, was the list of a prescription, which 
 they determined to make of their enemies. This 
 occasioned much difficulty and warm contests among 
 them, till each, in his turn, resolved to sacrifice some 
 of his best friends to the resentment of his colleagues. 
 The whole list is said to have consisted of three 
 hundred senators, and two thousand knights, all 
 doomed to die for a crime the most unpardonable to 
 tyrants, their adherence to liberty. Cicero^s death 
 was, in a particular manner, necessary to the common 
 interest of the three ; since his authority was too great 
 to be suffered in an enemy ; and experience had 
 shewn, that nothing could make him a friend to the 
 oppressors of his country. 
 
 Cicero was at his Tusculan villa, when he first re- 
 ceived the news of the proscription, and of his being 
 included in it. 
 
 It was the design of the triumvirate to keep their 
 intentions a secret, if possible, till the moment of ex- 
 
16 KEW BIOGRAPHICAt 
 
 ccution, in order that they might surprize those, 
 whom they had destined to destruction, before they 
 had time to escape. Bat some of Cicero's friends 
 found means to apprize him of his danger -, upon 
 which, he set forward to the sea-side, with a design 
 to transport himself out of the reach of his enemies. 
 Tiiere finding a vessel ready, he presently embarked ; 
 but the wind being adverse, and the sea uneasy to 
 him, he was obliged to land and spend the night on 
 shore. From thence he was forced on board again, 
 by the importunity of his servants ; but was soon af- 
 terwards obliged to land at one of his country seats, 
 where weary of life, he declared his resolution to die 
 in that country, which he had so often saved. Here 
 he slept soundly for some time, till his servants once 
 more forced him away in a litter towards the ship, 
 having heard, that he was pursued by Antony's assas- 
 sins. They had scarcely departed from the house, 
 when the assassins arrived, and finding that he had 
 fled, went immediately in quest of him towards the 
 shore, where they overtook him in a wood. Their 
 leader was one Popilius Lenas, a tribune of the army, 
 whose life Cicero had formerly defended and saved. 
 As soon as the soldiers appeared, the servants prepar- 
 ed to defend their master's life at the hazard of their 
 own ; but Cicero commanded them to set him down 
 and make no resistance. Then looking upon his exe- 
 cutioners with great firmness, and thrusting his neck 
 as far forward as he could, out of the litter, he told 
 them to do their work ; upon which, they cut off his 
 head and both his hands, and returned with them to 
 Rome, as the most agreeable present to xAntony their 
 cruel employer, who rewarding the murderer with a 
 large sum of money, ordered the head to be fixed up- 
 on the rostra, between the two hands ; a sad spectacle 
 to the city, and what drew tears from every eye, to see 
 these mangled members, which used to exert them- 
 selves so gloriously from that place, in defence of the 
 lives, the fortunes, and the liberties of the Roman peo- 
 
DICTIONARY, it 
 
 pie, so lamentably exposed to the scorn of sycophants 
 and traitors. The deaths of the rest, says an historian 
 of that age, caused only a private and particular sor- 
 row ; but Cicero's an universal one. It was a triumph 
 over the republic itself; and seemed to confirm and 
 establish the perpetual slavery of Rome. 
 
 Cicero's death happened on the 7th December, in 
 the 64th year of his age ; and with him expired the 
 short empire of eloquence amongst the Romans. As 
 an orator, he is thus characterized by Dr. Blair. " In 
 all his orations, his art is conspicuous. He begins 
 commonly with a regular exordium -, and with much 
 address, prepossesses the hearers and studies to gain 
 the affections. His method is clear, and his argu- 
 ments are arranged with exact propriety. In a supe- 
 rior clearness of method, he has an advantage over 
 Demosthenes. Every thing appears in its proper 
 place. He never tries to move, till he has attempted 
 to convince ; and, in moving, particularly, the softer 
 passions, he is highly successful. No one ever knew 
 the force of words, better than Cicero. He rolls them 
 along with the greatest beauty and magnificence ; and 
 in the structure of his sentences, is eminently curious 
 and exact. He is always full and flowing, never 
 abrupt. He amplifies every thing ; yet though his 
 manner is generally diffuse, it is often happily varied 
 and accommodated to the subject. When an impor- 
 tant public object roused his mind, and demanded 
 indignation and force, he departs considerably from 
 that loose and declamatory manner, to which he, at 
 other times is addicted, and becomes very forcible and 
 vehement. This great orator, however, is not without 
 his defects. In most of his orations, there is too much 
 art, even carried to a degree of ostentation. He 
 seems often desirous of obtaining admiration, rather 
 than of operating conviction. He is sometimes, 
 therefore, showy rather than solid, and diflfuse, where 
 he ought to have been urgent. His sentences are 
 always round and sonorous. They cannot be accused 
 Vol, II. No. 9. C - 
 
18 KEW BIOGRAPHICAt 
 
 of monotony, since they possess variety of cadence ^ 
 but from too great a fondness for magnificence, he is 
 on some occasions deficient in strength. Though the 
 services, which he had performed to his country were 
 very considerable, yet he is too much his own panegy- 
 rist. Ancient manners, which imposed fewer res- 
 traints on the side of decorum, may in some degree, 
 excuse, but cannot entirely justify his vanity." 
 
 CINCINNATUS, a celebrated Roman, was taken 
 from the plough to be advanced to the dignity of 
 Consul, in which office he restored public tranquility, 
 and then returned to his rural employments. Being, 
 upon another emergency, called forth a second time, 
 he was appointed dictator, in which office, he subdued 
 the enemies of his country ; and refusing all rewards, 
 retired again to his farm, after having exercised the 
 dictatorship only sixteen days. The same circum- 
 stance happened to him once more, in the 80th year 
 of his age. He died 376 years before Christ. 
 
 In allusion to the disinterested patriotism of this 
 exalted character, a society called the Order of Cin- 
 einnatiis or The Cincinnati^ was established in Ame- 
 rica soon after the peace, consisting of the officers of 
 the army and navy of the United States. The osten- 
 sible design of this institution, was to perpetuate the 
 memory of the revolution, the friendship of the offi- 
 cers, and the union of the states , and also to raise a 
 fund for the relief of poor widows and orphans, whose 
 husbands and fathers had fallen during the war. The 
 members were to be distinguished by wearing a medal, 
 emblematical of the design of the society ; and the 
 honours and advantages were to be hereditary in the 
 eldest male heirs, and in default of male issue, in the 
 collateral male heirs. Although, when we consider 
 the respectability of the characters, who were at the 
 head of this institution, we can scarcely doubt the 
 purity of their iutentions, yet it soon became the 
 
DICTIONARY. IS 
 
 object of popular jealousy. Views of a deeper na- 
 ture were imputed to the framers : and the institution 
 was censured and opposed, as giving birth to a mili- 
 tary nobiiity of a dangerous aristocratic nature, which 
 might ultimately prove ruinous to the liberties of the 
 new empire. But that article of their constitution, 
 which was the principal ground of apprehension, viz. 
 the right of making the honours hereditary having 
 since been altered, the society is no longer viewed as 
 an object of jealousy. 
 
 CLARKE (Dr. SaxMuel) an eminent English 
 divine and philosopher, was born in Norwich, 11th 
 October, 1675. He was instructed in grammatical 
 learning, at the free-school of that town, and in 
 1691, was removed to Caius college, Can:ibridge, 
 where his uncommon abilities soon began to display 
 themselves : for, when he was only about twenty-one 
 years of age, he contributed not a little towards the 
 establishment of the Newtonian philosophy, by an 
 excellent translation of Rohault's Physics, which 
 were then generally taught in the university ; to which 
 he added a number of valuable notes, calculated to 
 lead the students insensibly from the chimerical noti- 
 ons of that author, to others more consentaneous to 
 truth. 
 
 Having afterwards turned his thoughts to divinity, 
 and taken holy orders. Air. Clarke was appointed 
 chaplain to Dr. Moore, bishop of Norwich. This pre- 
 late, one of the greatest patrons of learning and learned 
 men, received our author into his family, and friend- 
 ship to such a remarkable degree, that he lived for 
 nearly twelve years in that station, with all the decent 
 freedoms of a brother and an equal, rather than an 
 inferior. The bishop's esteem for him encreased eve- 
 ry day ; and at his death, he gave him the highest 
 proof of confidence, by leaving all the concerns of his 
 tkmily entirely in his hands. 
 
20 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 In 1 699, Mr. CJarke published three practical es- 
 says on baptism, confirmation and repentance -, and 
 an anonymous work, entitled " Reflections on part 
 of a book called Amyntor, or a defence of Milton's 
 life, which relates to the writings of the primitive 
 fathers ; and the canon of the New Testament in 
 a letter to a friend." In 1701, Mr. Clarke published 
 his paraphrase on the Gospel of St. Matthew, which 
 was soon followed by those on the other evangelists. 
 They were afterwards printed together in 2 vols. 8vo. 
 and have since undergone several editions. He in- 
 tended to have gone through the remaining books of 
 the New Testament, in the same manner ; but some- 
 thing accidentally interrupted the execution, " and it 
 is now," says bishop Hoadley, '' only to be lament- 
 ed, that any thing first diverted him from it ; or that 
 he did not afterwards prevail upon himself tg resume 
 ^nd complete so great a work." 
 
 In the year 1704, he was appointed to preach 
 Boyle's lecture, and the subject he chose was " The 
 being and attributes of God," in which he succeeded 
 so well, that he was appointed to preach the same 
 lecture the next year ; when he chose for his subject 
 *' The evid«?nce of natural and revealed religion." 
 These sermons were first printed in two distinct vo- 
 lumes ; the fi!frmer in 1705, the latter in 1706. They 
 have since been printed in one volume, under the 
 general title i)f " A discourse concerning the being 
 and attributes of God, the obligations of natural reli- 
 gion, and the truth and certainty cf the christian 
 levelation, in answer to Hobbes, Spinosa, the author 
 of the oracles of reason, and other deniers of natural 
 and revealed religion." 
 
 In his discourses on the evidences of natural and 
 revealed religion. Dr. Clarke laid the foundations of 
 morality deep in the mutual relations of things and 
 persons to one another, in the unalterable fitness of 
 some actions, and the unfitness of others ; and in 
 the will of the great creator of all things, evident 
 
DICTIONARY. 21 
 
 from his making man capable of seeing these rela- 
 tions and this fitness ; of judging concerning them, 
 and of acting agreeably to that judgment. He then 
 proceeds to demonstrate the christian religion to be 
 worthy of God from its internal evidence, taken from 
 the perfect agreeableness of its main design to the 
 light of nature, and to all moral obligations of eter- 
 nal reason : and after this, to prove it to have been 
 actually revealed to the world by God, from the in- 
 ternal evidence of prophecy going before it, and of 
 miraculous works performed in express confirmation 
 of it. These sermons, says bishop Hoadley, every 
 christian ought to esteem as his treasure, as they con- 
 tain the true strength not only of naiuraly but reveal- 
 td religion. 
 
 About this time, Mr. AVhiston tells us, he discovered 
 that Mr. Clarke had been looking into the primitive 
 writers, and began to suspect that the Athanasian 
 doctrine of the trinity, was not the doctrine of the 
 early ages. He then informed Mr. Whiston, that he 
 never read the Athanasian creed in his parish at Nor- 
 wich, except once, and then only by mistake. 
 
 In 1706, our author published his letter to Mr. 
 Dodwell in answer to that writer's epistolary dis- 
 course, concerning the Immortality of the Soul; and, 
 likewise, translated Sir Isaac Newton's Treatise on 
 Optics into elegant Latin. Having now become ce- 
 lebrated in the literary world, he was brought to court 
 by his patron, and recommended to the favour of 
 'Queen Anne, who appointed him one of her chap- 
 lains, and soon after, in consideration of his great 
 merit, he was presented to the rectory of St. James, 
 Westminster. Upon his advancement to this station 
 he took the degree of D. D. when the public exer- 
 cise, whicli he performed for it, at Cambridge, was 
 exceedingly admired. The questions which he main- 
 tained were these; 1st *'That no article of the 
 Christian faith, delivered in the holv scriptures is dis- 
 agreeable to right reason ; 2d. '' That without the 
 
23 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 liberty of human actions, there can be no reh'gion.'* 
 In 17i2, he published a beautiful edition of Caesar's 
 commentaries, adorned with elegant sculptures. In 
 this work, the doctor took particular care of the punc- 
 tuation ; and, in the annotations, selected what ap- 
 peared the best and most judicious informer editions, 
 with some emendations of his own, interspersed. 
 *' The beauty of the paper, says Mr. Addison, of 
 the character, and of the several arts with which this 
 noble work is illustrated, makes it the finest book I 
 have ever seen." This edition has risen in value, from 
 that time to the present, and is now exceedingly 
 scarce. A copy of it was lately purchased at a pub- 
 lic sale, in England, by the Duke of Grafton, for 
 which he paid the sum of 195 dollars and 36 cents. 
 
 The same year, 1712, he published his book, en- 
 titled " The Scripture doctrine of the Trinity, &c.'* 
 in consequence of w^hich, he soon got involved in a 
 very warm controversy, an inundation of books and 
 pamphlets, many of which he answered, being writ- 
 ten against him. For the opinions which he advanced 
 upon this subject, he, likewise, became obnoxious 
 to the ecclesiastical power, and his book was com- 
 plained of by the lower house of convocation. The 
 doctor drew up a preface, and, afterwards, gave in 
 several explanations, which seemed to satisfy the up- 
 per house : at least, the affair was not brought to any 
 issue, the members appearing desirous to avoid dis- 
 sensions and divisions. 
 
 In 1718, Dr. Clarke made an alteration in the dox- 
 ology of the singing psalms, which produced no small 
 noise and disturbance, and occasioned some paiH' 
 phlets to be written. The alteration was this : 
 
 To God, througli Christ his only Son, 
 Immortal glory be &c. 
 
 and, 
 To God, through Christ, his Son, our Lord, 
 All ^lory be therefore &c. 
 
1>ICTI0NARY, 12S 
 
 A considerable number of these select psalms and 
 hymns having been dispersed by the society for pro- 
 moting Christian knowledge, before the alteration of 
 the doxologies was taken notice of, he was charged 
 with a design of having imposed upon the society : 
 but, from this imputation he was vindicated by his 
 friends, who assert, that the edition had been pre- 
 pared by him for the use of his own congregation on- 
 ly, before the society had thoughts of purchasing any 
 of the copies : and, that as the usual forms of dox- 
 ology are not established by any legal authority, either 
 ecclesiastical or civil, he had, so far, committed no 
 offence. Dr. Robinson, bishop of London, how- 
 ever, so highly disliked the alteration, that he pub- 
 lished a letter to the incumbents of all churches and 
 chapels in his diocese, against their using any new 
 forms of doxologies. The letter is dated Dec. 26th, 
 1718, and begins thus : "Reverend Brethren, there 
 is an instance of your care and duty, which I con- 
 ceive myself at this time highly obliged to offer, and 
 you to regard, as necessary for the preservation of the 
 very foundation of our faith. Some persons seduced, 
 I fear, by the strong delusions of pride and self con- 
 ceit, have lately published new forms of doxology, 
 entirely agreeable to those of some ancient heretics, 
 who impiously denied a Trinity of persons in the 
 unity of the Godhead. I do, therefore, warn you, 
 and charge it upon your souls, as you hope to obtain 
 mercy from God the Father, through the merits of 
 Jesus Christ our Lord, and by the sanctification of the 
 Holy Ghost, three persons and one God blessed for 
 ever, that you employ your best endeavours to prevail 
 with your several flocks, to have a great abhorrence 
 for the above mentioned new forms, &c." Those who 
 approved of Dr. Clarke's sentiments, reprobated the 
 conduct of the bishop as highly intolerant, whilst the 
 advocates for the generally received doctrines of the 
 church, considered it as a laudable zeal to suppress 
 errors, which sapped the foundation of the Christian 
 
24 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 religion, and were fraught with destruction to the 
 souls of men. The letter, as might have been ex- 
 pected, became the subject of a warm controversy ; 
 in which the most able champions were engaged, on 
 both sides ; but to which of the parties, the palm of 
 victory should be adjudged, does not, we conceive, 
 belong to our province to determine. Without, there- 
 fore, expressing our sentiments, with respect to the 
 religious opinions of our author, we shall only take 
 the liberty of directing such of our readers as are not 
 fully satisfied on the subject, " to the laxv a?id to the 
 testimony ; if they speak not according to this zvord, 
 it is because there is ?io light in theinT 
 
 In 1727, upon the death of Sir Isaac Newton, he 
 was offered, by the court, the place of master of the 
 mint, worth upwards of 6000 dollars per annum : 
 this appointment, hovvever, he thought proper to 
 refuse, as he considered secular preferment incompa- 
 tible with his profession, and likely to interrupt him, 
 in the discharge of what he believed more important 
 duties. 
 
 In 1728, was published " a letter from Dr. Clarke 
 to Benjamin Hoadley F. R. S. occasioned by the 
 controversy relating to the proportion of velocity, and 
 force in bodies in motion," and printed in "The Phi- 
 losophical Transactions, No. 401." In the begin- 
 ning of the year following, he published "The 12 
 first books of Homer's Iliad in quarto,'* which was 
 dedicated to the Duke of Cumberland. The Latin 
 version is almost entirely new, and annotations are 
 added at the bottom of the pages. Homer, bishop 
 Hoadley tells us, was Dr. Clarke's admired author, 
 even to a degree of something like enthusiasm, hard- 
 ly natural to his temper ; and that in this he went a 
 little beyond the bounds of Horace's judgment, and 
 was so unwilling to allow his favorite poet ever to nody 
 that he has taken remarkable pains to find out, and 
 give a reason for every passage, word and tittle, that 
 could create any suspicion. *'' The translation/* adds 
 
DICTIONARY. 25 
 
 the bishop, "with his corrections, may now be styled 
 accurate, and his notes, as far as they go, are indeed 
 a treasury of grammatical and critical knowledge. 
 He was called to this work by royal command, and 
 he has performed it in such a manner, as to be wor- 
 thy of the young prince for whom it was laboured.'* 
 
 The remainder of our author's life after this valua- 
 ble publication was extremely short, for on May 1 1th, 
 going out in the morning to preach, he was seized 
 with a pain in his side, which rendered it impossible 
 for him to perform that duty, and obliged him to be 
 carried home. On Monday afternoon he appeared to 
 be out of danger, and continued to think himself so 
 till the Saturday morning following, when to the in- 
 expressible surprise of all about him, the pain removed 
 from his side to his head, and after a very short com- 
 plaint, deprived him of his senses. He continued 
 breathing till between seven and eight o'clock of the 
 evening of that day. May 17th, 1729, when he ex- 
 pired, in the 54th year of his age. 
 
 Soon after his death were published, from his ori- 
 ginal manuscript, by his brother Dr. John Clarke, 
 dean of Sarum, ** An Exposition of the Church Cate- 
 chism," and aKp ten volumes of Sermons 8vo. His 
 " Exposition" was immediately animadverted on by 
 Dr. Waterland, who was answered by Dr. Sykes. 
 A controversy ensued, and three or four pamphlets 
 were written on each side, with the titles of which, 
 there is no occasion to trouble the reader. 
 
 Whatever may be objected against the orthodoxy 
 of Dr. Clarke's religious creed, it is obvious from his 
 numerous writings, that he was a man of so profound 
 and critical learning, as to stand almost unrivalled in 
 the day in which he lived ; and agreeably to the tes- 
 timony of persons of distinguished re|iutation, his 
 morals were likewise unexceptionable. B^hop Hoad- 
 ley, in his character of this great and learned man, 
 tells us, that the first strokes of knowledge in some of 
 its branches, seemed to be little less than natural to 
 
 Vol. II. No. 9. D 
 
t2t) NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 him ; for they appeared to lie right in his mind, ^i 
 soon as any thing could appear. His conversation, 
 which was highly useful and instructive, was attend* 
 ed with a readiness of thought, and clearness of ex- 
 pression, which hardly ever failed him, when his opi- 
 nion was asked upon the most important and trying 
 questions. His charity and benevolence were exten- 
 sive as the whole rational creation ; and the rulftig 
 principle of his heart and practice, a love of the reli- 
 gious and civil liberties of mankind. 
 
 Dr. Clarke's cheerful and even playful disposition 
 is mentioned by Dr. Warton, who, in his observations, 
 on the following line of Pope, 
 
 *' Untliouglit <*f fraikies cheat us in the wife,*' 
 
 says, who could imagine, that Locke was fond of ro- 
 mances, that Newton once studied astrology, and that 
 Dr. Clarke valued him.self for his agility, and fre- 
 quently amused himself in a private room of his house, 
 in leaping over the tables and chairs, and that Pope 
 himself was a great epicure. With respect to what 
 is here said of Dr. Clarke, however, it can scarcely be 
 considered as a frailty. To be possessed of such a 
 temper as he was, must have been no small degree 
 of happiness, as it probably enabled him to pursue his 
 important and serious studies with greater vivacity and 
 vigour. 
 
 Before we conclude this sketch of Dr. Clarke's life, 
 it may not be improper to observe, that his work 
 *^ On the being and attributes of God, and on the 
 evidence of natural and revealed religion," is a pro- 
 duction of great importance in the annals of English 
 literature, on account of its intrinsic excellence, the 
 favourable reception it hath universally met with, the 
 influence it hath had on the opinions of men, and the 
 remarks and disquisitions to which it hath given rise. 
 The merit or demerit of his writings on the trinity and 
 some of his other religious publications, can be be&t 
 
DICTIONARY. 27 
 
 ascertained by comparing them with the sacred scrip- 
 tures, the only infallible standard of a christian's faith 
 and practice. 
 
 CLARKE, (John D. D.) Pastor of the first 
 church of Boston, Massachusetts, was born at Ports- 
 jnouth in New-Hampshire, April 13, 1755^ gradu- 
 ated at Harvard College in 1774 : and ordained July 
 8th 1778, as colleague wnth the late Dr. Chauncey, 
 with whom he lived in the most intimate and respect- 
 ful friendship, till the death of the latter in 1787 ; af- 
 ter which, he continued assiduously and faithfully la- 
 bouring in the service of the church, until the Lord's 
 day, April 1st 1798, when in the midst of his sermon 
 he was seized with an apoplexy,* ^qW down in the 
 pulpit, and expired in less than twelve hours, having 
 almost completed the 43d year of his age, and the 
 20th of his ministry. 
 
 This eminent minister discovered in early life, great 
 signs of genius and industry ; and was distinguished, 
 whilst at the university, by a close attention to classic 
 and philosophic studies, and by irreproachable morals. 
 In the office.of preceptor he was gentle and persuasive, 
 beloved by his pupils, and esteemed by their friends. 
 As a public preacher, his composition bore the marks 
 of penetration, judgment, perspicuity and elegance. 
 Faithful to the interest of religion, he deeply examin- 
 ed its foundation and evidence : and persuaded of the 
 truth and importance of the christian system, he re- 
 commended, by his public discourses and private con- 
 versation, its sublime doctrines, its wise instructions 
 and its salutary precepts. 
 
 Though fond of polite literature and philosophic 
 researches, yet he considered theology as the proper 
 science of a gospel minister. To this object he princi- 
 pally devoted his time and studies, and was earnestly 
 desirous of investigating every branch of it, not merely 
 to gratity his own sacred curiosity, but that he might 
 
58 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 import to his hearers the whole counsel of God. He 
 was habitually a close student, and it is not improbable 
 that the intenseness of his application proved too 
 severe for the delicate fabric of his nerves. 
 
 His devotional addresses were copious and fervent, 
 and his intercessions strong and energetic, discover- 
 ing at once the ardour of his piety, and the warmth 
 of his benevolence. In the private offices of pastoral 
 friendship, he w^as truly exemplary and engaging. 
 His temper was mild and cheerful, his manners easy 
 and polite ; and the social virtues of an honest heart 
 gave a glow to his language, and enlivened every cir- 
 cle in which he was conversant. As a member of 
 domestic life, as well as of several of the most emi- 
 nent literary and charitable societies in Boston, his 
 deportment was marked with affection, fidelity and 
 carefulness. He was concerned for the interest, re- 
 putation and happiness of all his connexions, and 
 zealously devoted to the cause of science and hu- 
 manity. 
 
 Dr. Clarke's printed works are, 1st four sermons — 
 one on the death of Dr. Cooper, one on the death of 
 Dr. Chauncy, one on the death of Dr. N. W. Ap- 
 pleton and one before the Humane Society : 2d an 
 excellent Treatise in defence of Christianity, entitled, 
 *' Why are you a Christian r" This had three editions 
 in Boston, and three in England : 3d " Letters to a 
 student at the university of Cambridge. 
 
 A volume of Dr. Clark's sermons has been pub- 
 lished since his decease. It is a selection that does 
 honour to his memory ; and will be cherished by the 
 Christain and the scholar, as exhibiting, in elegant and 
 very impressive language, the pure and pious senti- 
 ments of one of the best of men. 
 
 CLARKSON, (David, D. D.) an eminent non- 
 conformist divine, was born in Yorkshire, England, 
 in February, 1622. He was admitted fellow of Clare- 
 
DICTIONARY. 29 
 
 HalJ, Cambridge, in 1643, and, amongst many others, 
 placed under his tuition, whilst in that capacity, was 
 Mr. John Tillotson, afterwards archbishop of Canter- 
 bury, who, upon his resigning his fellowship, in 1G5I, 
 w^as chosen his successor. He was sometime minis- 
 ter of Mortlack, in Surry ; but, being in common 
 with many others, ejected for non-conformity, in 
 1671, he gave himself up to reading and meditation, 
 shifting his residence from one place of obscurity to 
 another, till the times becoming better, he was again 
 permitted to make his appearance, and, on the death of 
 the Rev. Dr. John Owen, in 168S, was appointed 
 successor in the pastoral office to his congregation. 
 He was a man well acquainted with the sacred scrip- 
 tures, of solid judgment, moderate principles and 
 considerable learning, as appears by his Treatise on 
 Liturgies ; his Primitive Episcopacy, and his practical 
 volume of sermons, published after his death, which 
 happened in the year 1687. Soon after the revolution 
 of Great Britain, in the year following, King William 
 paid attention to his memory by the appointment of 
 his son Mathew Clarkson to the office of Secretary 
 of the province of New-York, where he died, in 1703, 
 of a pestilential fever, which, during the autumn. of 
 that year, raged with so great violence as to induce the 
 governor to remove his court to Jamaica, Long- 
 Island, and was so fatal in the city, as to make a great 
 epoch amongst our old inhabitants, distinguished by 
 *' the time of the great sickness." 
 
 Several of the descendants of this gentlem^an have 
 filled very important public offices vAth reputation 
 and dignity. General Mathew Clarkson of New- 
 York is his great grandson. 
 
 CLEGHORN, (George) a celebrated physician, 
 was born in the parish of Cramond, near Edinburgh 
 18th Dec. 1716. George received the first rudiments 
 of his education, in the gramm.ar school of Cramond 5 
 
tiO NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 and, in the year 1728, was sent to Edinburgh to be 
 further instructed in the Latin, Greek and French, 
 where to a singular proficiency in these languages, he 
 added a considerable stock of mathematical know- 
 ledge. 
 
 in the beginning of the year 1731, he resolved to 
 study physic and surgery, and had the happiness of 
 being placed under the tuition of the late Dn Alex- 
 ander Monro^ a name, which will be revered in that 
 university, as long as science shall be cherished and 
 cultivated. This great professor was esteemed by all, 
 but most by those, who were more immediately un- 
 der his direction. It was the lot of young Cleghorn 
 to live under his roof ; and in one of his letters, the 
 grateful pupil seems to dwell with peculiar pleasure 
 upon the circumstance ; observing, that '' his amiable 
 manners and unremitting activity in promoting the 
 public welfare, endeared him to all his acquaintance, 
 but more particularly to those, who lived under his 
 roof, and had daily opportunities of admiring the 
 sweetness of his conversation, and the invariable be^ 
 nignity of his disposition/* 
 
 For five years, he continued to profit by the In- 
 struction and example of his excellent master, visit- 
 ing patients in company with him, and assisting at the 
 dissections in the anatomical theatre ; at the same 
 time, he attended in their turn the lectures in botany, 
 materia medica, chemistry, and the theory and practice 
 of medicine, and by his extraordinary diligence, 
 attracted the notice of all his preceptors. 
 
 On Dr. Fothergiirs arrival from England, at this 
 university, in the year 1733, Dr. Cleghorn was intro- 
 duced to his acquaintance, and soon became his inse- 
 parable companion. These two pupils then studied 
 Together the same branches of science, under the 
 same masters, with equal ardour and success ; they 
 frequently met to compare the notes, they had collect- 
 ed trom the professors, and to communicate their res- 
 pective observations. Their moments of relaxation. 
 
blCTIONA^V; SI 
 
 if that time can be called relaxation, which is devoted 
 to social studies, were spent in a select society of fel- 
 low students, of which Fothergill, Russel, and Cum- 
 ing were associates ; a society since incorporated un- 
 der the name of the Royal Medical Society of Edin- 
 burgh. 
 
 Early in 1736, w^heh Cleghorn had scarcely attain- 
 ed his twentieth year, he had acquired so high a cha- 
 racter, that he was appointed surgeon in the 22d regi- 
 ment of foot then stationed in the island of Minorca. 
 During a residence of thirteen years in that island, 
 whatever time could be spared from attending the 
 duties of his station, he employed either in investigat- 
 ing the nature of epidemic diseases, or in gratifying 
 the passion he early imbibed for anatomy. 
 
 In 1749, he left Minorca, and came to Ireland with 
 his regiment; and in the autumn following, went to 
 London, and, during the publication of " The Dis- 
 eases of J^Iinorca," attended Dr. Hunter's anatomical 
 lectures. In the publication of this book, he was ma- 
 terially assisted by his friend Dr. Fothergill. 
 
 Of this work, the following eulogium has been pro- 
 nounced by a competent judge. " It forms a just 
 model for the imitation of future medical writers ; it 
 not only exhibits an accurate state of the air, but a 
 minute detail of the vegetable productions of the 
 island ; and concludes with medical observations, im- 
 portant in every point of view, and, in some instances, 
 either new, or applied in a manner, which preceding 
 practloners had not admitted." 
 
 In 1751, the Doctor settled in Dublin ; and, in imi- 
 tation of Munro and Hunter, began to give annual 
 lectures on anatomy : and, in a few years, after his 
 coming to that city, he was admitted as a lecturer 
 on anatomy, in the university. In the year 1784, the 
 College of Physicians there, elected him an honorary 
 member, at which time, he was promoted from lec- 
 turer to be professor in anatomy. He had, likewise, 
 the honour of bein^q; one cf the oriirinal members of 
 
$2 KEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 the Irish Academy, for promoting Arts and Sciences, 
 which is now established by Royal authority. / 
 
 His character may in part, be ascertained from his 
 epistolary correspondence. In one of his letters to 
 Dr. Cuming, he modestly concludes, " My greatest 
 ambition is to be reputed a well-meaning member of 
 society, who wished to be useful in his station, and, 
 who was always of opinion, that honesty is the best 
 policy, and that a good name is better than riches." 
 In another letter to the same friend, written in 1785, 
 he says " In the year 1772, increasing business and 
 declining health, obliged me to commit the chief care 
 of my annual anatomical course, for the instruction of 
 students in physic and surgery, to my favourite pupil 
 Dr. Purcel, who has not only kept it up ever since, 
 but improved it, so as to advance its reputation and his 
 own : yet still I continue to read, as I have done for 
 upwards of twenty years, to a crowded audience, a 
 short course of lectures, the design of which is to give 
 to general scholars, a comprehensive view of the ani- 
 mal kingdom, and to point out to them the conduct 
 of nature in forming their various tribes, and fitting 
 their several organs to their respective modes of life ; 
 this affords me an opportunity of exciting in my hear- 
 ers, an eager desire for anatomical knowledge, by 
 shewing them a variety of elegant preparations, and 
 of raising their minds from the creature to the creator, 
 whose power, wisdom, and goodness is no where dis- 
 played to greater advantage, than in the formation of 
 animals." 
 
 About 1774, on the death of his only brother, in 
 Scotland, he sent for his surviving family consisting of 
 the widow and nine children, and settled them in 
 Dublin, that he might have it more in his power to af- 
 ford them that assistance and protection, w^hich they 
 might stand in need of. His eldest nephew William, 
 he educated in the medical profession ; but after giv- 
 ing him the best education, which Europe cotild af- 
 ford, and getting him joined with himself in the lee- 
 
^DICTIONARY* ff3 
 
 t-creship, the Doctor's pleasing hopes were most unfor- 
 tunately frustrated by the young gentleman's death, 
 which happened in 1784. 
 
 Dr. Cleghorn, with an acquired independence, de- 
 voted his moments of leisure from the severer studies 
 of his profession, to farming and horticulture. But 
 his attention to this employment, did not lessen his 
 care for his relations, who, from a grateful and afFec* 
 tionate regard, looked up to him as a parent. He 
 died in Dec. 1789, in the 74th year of his age. 
 
 CLELAND, (John) was the son of Col. Cleland> 
 that celebrated fictitious member of the Spectator's 
 Club, whom Steele describes under the name of Will 
 Honeycombe. He was early in life sent as consul to 
 Smyrna, where, perhaps, he first imbibed those loose 
 principles, which in his " Memoirs of a Woman o£ 
 Pleasure," are so dangerously exemplified. On his 
 return from Smyrna, he went to the East-Indies, but 
 quarrelling with some of the members of the presi- 
 dency of Bombay, he made a precipitate retreat from 
 the East, with little or no benefit to his fortune. Be- 
 ing without profession or any settled means of sub- 
 sistence, he soon fell into pecuniary embarrassments, 
 which at last brought him to prison. In this situa- 
 tion, one of those booksellers, who disgrace the pro- 
 fession, offered him a temporary relief for writing the 
 work above alluded to, which brought a stigma on 
 his name, which time has not obliterated. For this 
 publication, he was called before the privy council ; 
 and the circumstances of his distress being known, 
 as well as his being a man of some parts, John Earl 
 Granville, the then president, rescued him from the 
 like temptation, by getting him a pension of 444 dol- 
 lars per annum, which he enjoyed till his death; and 
 which had so much the desired effect, that, except 
 " The Memoirs of a Coxcomb," which has some 
 smack of dissipated manners, and " The Man of 
 
 Vol. Ih No. 9. E 
 
5* KEW BlOGRAPItiCAt 
 
 Honour," written as an amende honourable for bis for- 
 mer exceptionable book ; he dedicated the rest of his 
 life to political and philological studies. He died 
 Jan. 23d 1789, at the advanced age of 82. 
 
 CLEMENT XIV. (Pope) whose original name 
 was Francis Laurentius Ganganelli, was born at St. 
 Angelo, in the duchy of Urbino, 31st October 1705, 
 and chosen Pope, though not yet a bishop, 19th May 
 1769, at which time, the see of Rome was involved 
 in a most disagreeable and dangerous contest with the 
 House of Bourbon. 
 
 The duties of a prince and pastor are very difncult 
 to reconcib, as policy often appears to exact what 
 religion does not allow, for if the character of a popt 
 inspires clemency, that of a sovereign enjoins severity. 
 Thus we read, that Sixtus V. was a great monarch 
 without being a bigot ; and tliat S. Pius was a good 
 pope ?.nd a poor prince. This made an historian say^ 
 that such pontiffs, as had been taken from the order 
 of the Cordeliers, and were six in number, were all 
 possessed ot the talent of governing well ; and those, 
 who had been of the order of the Dominicans were 
 more capable of edifying, Clement was the pope, w^ho 
 inost united the above qualities, as a manly piety is 
 more analogous with sovereignty, than an efi^eminate 
 and pusilanimous devotion. His religion bore the 
 impression of his character and his genius. It was- 
 strong and elevated, otherwise he would often have 
 been stopped in his operations ; but seeing all things 
 as a great man, and rising superior to public rumours, 
 prejudices and even events, he knew how to be a 
 prince and a pcntiiT. 
 
 The little artitices practised by narrow minds, to 
 obtain their ends he was a stranger to. Though pe- 
 culiarly calculated for a court, which is accused of 
 being the very vortex of intrigue and chicane, he ne- 
 ver deceived the politicians, but by remaining silent : 
 
DICTIONARY, 55 
 
 for, when he 'spoke, he uttered the truth. He was 
 too upright a man to act by sinister means, and was, 
 indeed, too great a genius to stand in need of them. 
 
 No one knew better when to seize the proper mo- 
 ment, when he neither w^as slow nor precipitate. 
 The hour is not come, he w^ould say, when he was 
 solicited to hasten some operation. He wrote to Car>» 
 dinal Stoppani, " I mistrust my vivacity, and there- 
 tore I shall not answer, till the end of a week, con- 
 cerning w^hat your eminence requires of me. Our 
 imagination is often our greatest enemy ; I am striving 
 to weary it before 1 act. Matters of business, like 
 fruits, have their maturity, and it is only when they 
 are bastings, that we should think of accomplishing 
 them." 
 
 His manner of reading resembled his other opera- 
 lions : he abstained from books, if he found iiimself 
 disposed to reflect ; and, as sovereigns are led by cirj 
 cumstances, from whence we may conclude, that all 
 men are born dependent, lie often kept vigils, great 
 part of the night, and slept in the day-time. " I'heir 
 rule," he used to say, " is the compass of monks and 
 friars ; but the wants of tlieir people, is the clock 
 of sovereigns. Let it be v/hat hour it may, if they 
 want us, w^e must attend to them." 
 
 This maxim, when he was pope, often took him 
 from his books.. He was of the opinion, that all the 
 books in the world might, without any detriment to 
 science, be reduced to a few thousand volumes ; and, 
 that those of the present age were nothing but pic- 
 tures, which daubers had found the art of cleaning, 
 in order to present them, in the properest light to 
 public view. When we consider the splendour and 
 solidity of his talents, it is to be lamented, that he pro- 
 duced nothing in the literary way, though some have 
 ascribed to him part of the works of Benedict XIV". 
 But he was so thoroughly persuaded, that there were 
 too many writers, that he w^as always fearful of in- 
 creasing the number. 
 
3(5 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 '\Vhen any one mentioned to him the fashionabl* 
 productions, which appeared against Christianity, he 
 would say *' the more there are, the more the world 
 will be convinced of the necessity of it." He obser- 
 ved, " that all the writers, who opposed Christianity, 
 knew only how to dig a ditch, and that was all, they 
 could supply its place with." He said, that " Vol- 
 taire, whose poetry he admired, attacked religion so 
 often, only because it was troublesome to him : and 
 that J. J. Rousseau was a painter, who always forgot 
 the heads, and who excelled only in the drapery." 
 
 He explained himself one day, upon a work call- 
 ed " The System of Nature 5" and added, " what 
 hurts me is, that the more it is founded upon false 
 principles, the more, in an age like ours, it will gain 
 reputation and readers ; and it will receive an addi- 
 tional value by its being seriously refuted." He af- 
 terwards observed, that the author of this book is as 
 bad as a madman, who imagines, that, by changing 
 the master of the house, he can dispose of it, just as 
 he pleases, without reflecting, that no creature caa 
 breathe, but by existing, in God. But every age is 
 distinguished by a new fangled mode of thinking. 
 After the times of superstition, are come the days of 
 incredulity ; and the man, who formerly adored a 
 inultitude of Gods, now aifects not to acknowledge 
 any one. Virtue, vice, immorality, annihilation, all 
 appear to him synonimous, provided some insignifi- 
 cant pamphlet serves him as a rampart against hea- 
 ven : and it is in the very bosom of religion, that these 
 scandalous opinions originate and multiply." 
 
 To judge properly of the genius of Clement, we 
 should view him with some friends conferring upon 
 the subjects of the times, and the means of recon- 
 ciling the interests of religion with tliose of princes. 
 When the greatest lights had been thrown by these his 
 counsellors, upon the subject of debate, Ganganelli, 
 as X\\Q primum mobile of their deliberations, decided 
 with manly resolution. The slightest error would 
 
DICTIONARY. ST 
 
 have been of the most dangerous consequence. The 
 chief point in question, was to weigh the rights of 
 the sovereign pontiff, the motives, upon which he 
 acted, and to keep within the bounds that support the 
 equilibrium between the Roman See and the other - 
 potentates. 
 
 During some part of the summer, it was usual for 
 him to retire to Castlegandolfe, a castle situated about 
 four leagues from Rome, near the lake Albano, which 
 commands the most agreeable prospect, and which, 
 during the hot season, is the usual residence of the 
 Sovereign Pontiff. It was here, that to be intimate- 
 ly acquainted with Clement, we should view him 
 anatomizing an insect, analyzing a flower, pursuing 
 the phaenomena of nature, and, by degrees, rising 
 up to her author; and, at length, taking a general 
 view of earth and heaven ; or collecting himself with- 
 in himself, considering man ; or, at other times, fa- 
 miliarly conversing with his friends and intimates. 
 
 Sometimes weary of meditation, he would retire 
 with Father Francis, an old friend, whom he had 
 known in the convent, into a bower sequestered from 
 the eye of curiosity. Here the cloyster anecdotes 
 amused them, and they seemed in a perfect state of 
 equality. One day, Clement viewing him, repeated 
 twice these words : " He has kept his garb, and is 
 happier than I, who wear the tiara. It was decreed 
 I should be a pope, and I much fear (here he paused) 
 however, we must submit to the will of God." 
 
 The act, which more especially signalized his pope- 
 dom, was the suppression of the Jesuits. This im- 
 portant business had engrossed his attention from the 
 commencement of his reign; but he did not finally 
 decide upon it, till the year 1773. The public had 
 begun to imagine, that he had lost sight of that grand 
 object, whilst, he only aimed at gaining time. He 
 carefully examined the numerous accusations against 
 the society, and also their vindications, whilst equally 
 mistrusting the eulogiums and the sarcasms passed 
 
^S NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 upon them, he was biassed neither by their panegy- 
 rists, nor their satyrists. No man was ever more im- 
 j)arlial. Equally abstracting himself from his own 
 inclination, as well as all prejudices, he judged in the 
 ^ame manner, as posterity necessarily must. 
 
 The people, ever idolizing him, ceased not to bless 
 his reign ; and their perseverance in so doing, consti- 
 tutes his greatest eulogium. It is well known, that 
 the Romans easily change from enthusiasm to hatred y 
 that they have often calumniated those pontiffs, whom 
 they had the most ilattered, and that a pope to please 
 tliem should not reign above three years. Unfortu- 
 nately, on account of their laziness, they constantly 
 hope, that a change of masters must be attended 
 with an encrease of happiness, just as sick men are 
 apt to fancy, that they will be much easier, when they 
 are placed in another posture. 
 
 The glory of Clement would not have been com- 
 plete, if he had not contributed to the embellishment 
 of Rome, a city so susceptible of ornaments, and so 
 fruitful in .riches proper to decorate it. He accord- 
 inglv, amongst other things, composed a museum 
 comprising every thing that could gratify the curiosity 
 of antiquaries and travellers, that is to say, the scar- 
 cest curiosities, that had been transmitted by the an- 
 cients. • 
 
 It was his opinion, that religion had often suffered 
 by an indiscreet zeal, and in order, as rnxuch as pos- 
 sible to prevent this from happening in his time, he 
 wisely observed a great moderation. He used to say, 
 *' We too often lay aside charity to maintain faith, 
 without reflecting, that if it is not allowed to tolerate 
 error, it is forbidden to hate and persecute those, who 
 have unfortunately embraced it.'* How fortunate 
 would it have been for the world, and the cause of 
 Christianity, if all popes and prelates had, in former 
 times, been actuated by ideas equally liberal and en- 
 li^'htencd ? 
 
©iCTIONART. ^9 
 
 To the above general character of this very emi- 
 lient man, it may not be amiss to add the following 
 particulars of his death, which happened in the year 
 1774. That event was immediately attributed to poi- 
 son, asjfanold man of seventy, loaded with infirmi- 
 ties, could not quit the world without violence. His 
 proceedings against the Jesuits furnished^ in the minds 
 of some people, a plausible pretext for this charge, 
 and the malevolence of their enemies, embellished 
 it with circumstances. Even the ministers of those 
 powers, who had procured their suppression, coun- 
 tenanced the report, as if falsehood was necessary to 
 prevent the revival of a body, which had already sunk 
 in its full strength, a mighty sacrifice to their com- 
 bined resentment. The charge was the more ridicu- 
 lous, as the pontiff had, for a long time, laboured 
 under a painful disorder ; yet the report was propa- 
 
 fated with the greatest industry, and though the 
 Vench and Spanish ministers were present at the 
 opening of the body, the most horrible circumstan- 
 ces were published relative to that operation; such 
 as that the head fell off from the body, that the stench 
 killed the operators, &:c. It availed little, that the 
 operators shewed themselves alive and in good health, 
 and that the surgeons and physicians proved the false- 
 hood of every part of the report. 
 
 Clement XIV. appears to have been a man of a 
 virtuous character, and possessed of considerable abi- 
 lities. His letters breathe great liberality of senti- 
 ment. 
 
 CLEOPATRA, (Queen of Egypt) famous for 
 her wit, beauty and intrigue, was the daughter of Pto- 
 lemy Auletes, king of that country, who, dying in 
 the year 5 1 before Christ, bequeathed his crown to 
 the eldest of his sons, and the eldest of his daughters; 
 ordering them to be joined to each other in marriage, 
 according to the usage of their family, and jointly to 
 
ilO kew biographical 
 
 govern the kingdom of Egypt. They were both very 
 young, Cleopatra the eldest being only seventeen, 
 and, therefore, he committed them to the tuition of 
 the Roman Senate. They could not, however, agree 
 either to be married or to reign together, and^ the 
 cause was brought before Julius Csesar, who^ in pursuit 
 of Pompey, had, at that time, come to Alexandria. 
 
 Advocates w^ere appointed, on both sides, to plead 
 the matter before him ; but Cleopatra, hearing that 
 Caesar was unboundedly fond of w^omen, laid a plot to 
 attach him first to her person and next to her cause ; 
 for she made no scruple of prostituting herself for lust 
 or for interest, according as slie was actuated by 
 either of those passions. Sending to Caesar, therefore, 
 she desired that she might be permitted to plead her 
 cause before him in person. This request being com- 
 plied with, Caesar was too sensible of the charms of 
 beauty not to be touched with those of Cleopatra. 
 She was then in the prime of her youth, about the 
 20th year of her age, and one of those perfect beau^ 
 ties, whose every feature has its particular charm, all 
 which was seconded by an admirable wit, command- 
 ing address, and withal a voice so harmonious and be- 
 witching, that, it is said, that single perfection, with- 
 out the help of her eyes, than which nothing could 
 be finer, was enough to soften the most obdurate 
 heart. In short, Caesar, the mighty conqueror of the 
 world, was instantaneously subdued, by the graces of 
 this bewitching woman, and is supposed to have had 
 a son by her, who was, afterwards, from his name, 
 called Caesarion. 
 
 On the morning after their first interview, Caesar 
 sent for Ptolemy, and pressed him to receive his sis- 
 ter, on her own terms : but Ptolemy perceiving, that 
 instead of a judge, he was become her advocate, ap- 
 pealed to the people, and put the whole city in an 
 uproar. A war commenced, and the matter being 
 soon determined by a battle, in which Cccsar came 
 
DICTIONARY* 41 
 
 QiFconqueror, Ptolemy, on his endeavouring to escape, 
 over the Nile, was drowned. 
 
 Upon this, Cssar setled the kingdom upon Cleo- 
 patra, and her younger brother, which was in effect, 
 to put the whole into her own hands, as he was, at 
 that time, only eleven years old, and, of course, in- 
 capable of interfering in the affairs of state ; and 
 that he never might interfere, Cleopatra made away ■ 
 with him by poison, as soon as he arrived at his fif- 
 teenth year. Cleopatra had also a sister named Arsinoe, 
 who, siding in the war with her elder brother Ptolemy, 
 was taken prisoner by Caesar, aqd carried to Rome, 
 in order to grace his triumph. She was afterwards 
 dismissed by him ; but not being suffered to return to 
 Egypt, lest she should excite new troubles against 
 Cleopatra, she settled in Asia. There Antony found 
 her, after the battle of Phiilppi j and, at the re- 
 quest of Cleopatra, caused her to be put to death. 
 It was for the sake of this lewd woman, that Caesar 
 made this infamous war, which was, likewise, ex- 
 ceedingly dangerous, because a very small part of 
 his forces had arrived, and his wanton dalliances 
 with her detained him longer in Egypt, than the state 
 of his affairs could well admit. 
 
 Cleopatra followed Caesar to Rome, and was there 
 when he was killed in the senate house ; but being 
 terrified by that accident, and the subsequent disor- 
 ders of the city, she ran away presently with great 
 precipitation. After the battle of Philippi, Cleopa- 
 tra^ was summoned by Antony to answer the accu- 
 sation against her, as if she had favoured the interest 
 of Crassus. She had, indeed, done so, in some 
 measure, and she well knew, that this had not been 
 very pleasant to the triumviri. She depended, how^- 
 ever, on her wit and beauty 5 and persuaded herself 
 that those charms, with which she had conquered 
 Caisar's heart, were still powerful enough to conquer 
 Antony's, for she was not yet above twenty-six years 
 of age. Full of these assurances, she went to An- 
 
 Vol. II. No. 9. F 
 
4*2 n"ew biographical 
 
 tony, and by her arts, and the charms of her per- 
 son^ drew him into those snares, which held hini en- 
 slaved as long as he lived, and, finally, caused his 
 death. For the present, she accompanied him as far 
 as Tyre, and there taking leave of him, returned to 
 Egypt, firmly persuaded, that he could not stay long 
 behind her. Antony soon followed her, and spent 
 the winter with her, iu scenes of the utmost dissipa- 
 tion and extravagance, which she, every day, con- 
 trived to vary. In short, she was probably the most 
 voluptuous, as w^ell as the most profuse woman, that 
 history has recorded 
 
 The passion of Antony for Cleopatra, however, and 
 the gifts he daily made her of Roman provinces, rais- 
 ed great murmurings at Rome, which Octavius pri- 
 vately abetted and encouraged ; because he partly 
 out of a desire to reign alone, and partly to resent the 
 ill usage of his sister Octavia, whom Antony had 
 married, wanted much to break with him. To pave 
 the way for this, v\'hen Antony returned from his un- 
 fortunate expedition against the Parthians, he sent 
 Octavia to meet him. Antony was then at Leucopo- 
 lis, where he waited for Cleopatra with great impati- 
 ence. She came at length, as did almost, at the same 
 time, a messenger from Octavia, who staid at Athens, 
 This was very unpleasant news for Cleopatra, who 
 had great reason to dread so powerful a rival. She, 
 therefore, imm.ediately betook herself to those parts, 
 which she had, ail her life, practised with so great 
 success ; she feigned a deep melancholy, almost en- 
 tirely abstained from food, and when she was near 
 Antony, she beheld him in the most languishing man- 
 ner, let fall tears, in his presence, and turned away 
 her face, as if she desired to hide from him those 
 marks of grief. Half of this would have been sufficient 
 to have overcome Antonyms weakness, who, after he 
 had sent word to Octavia to return to Rome, waited 
 upon Cleopatra back to Alexandria, where he passed 
 the winter along vs'ith her in riot and debauchery j 
 
DICTIONARY^ 43 
 
 and, as if he had meant to vex the Roman people, he, 
 in a solemn manner, disposed of all those provinces, 
 which fell to his share, in the division of the empire, 
 in favour of Cleopatra and her children. 
 
 On this, Octavius thought proper to declare against 
 him, and a war commenced, which was for some time 
 carried on with great vigour on both sides. It would 
 be foreign to our purpose to give an account of the 
 different engagements, which w^as fought betvi''een 
 them ; but it is well known, that the battle of Ac- 
 tium determined the victory in favour of Octavius, 
 where Cleopatra flying first, Antony hastened after 
 her. Upon this occasion, however, he conceived 
 great displeasure against Cleopatra, and continued 
 three days without seeing he but, afterwards reco- 
 vering his usual humour, he again devoted himself 
 to pleasure. After they had returned to Egypt, and 
 found themselves abandoned by all their allies, they 
 sent to make proposals to Octavius. Cleopatra asked 
 the kingdom of Egypt for her children, and Antony 
 desired he might be permitted to live as a private 
 man at Athens, if Octavius was not willing he should 
 tarry in Egypt. Octavius absolutely rejected Antony's 
 proposal, and sent to Cleopatra, that he would refuse 
 her nothing, which was reasonable, if she would only 
 drive Antony out of her kingdom. She refused to 
 act openly against Antony, but betrayed him in every 
 offer, which he made, till she obliged him to put 
 an end to his own life, for fear of falling into Octa- 
 vius' hands. 
 
 When Antony was dead, Cleopatra most passion- 
 ately bemoaned his loss : however upon Octavius' ap- 
 proach to Alexandria, she was quite attentive to her 
 own security. Near the temple of Isis, she had rais- 
 ed a stately building, w^hich she designed for her se- 
 pulchre, into which she now retired carrying along 
 with her all her immense treasures. It was filled, be- 
 sides, with torches, faggots and other combustible 
 matter, so that Octavius, fearing lest, if driven to de^> 
 
44 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 pair, she should burn herself with these vast riches^ 
 contrived to give her hopes, that she might expect 
 the best usage from his esteem. The truth is, Octa- 
 vius earnestly desired to expose this queen, in his 
 triumph to the Romans ; and v^dth this view sent 
 Proculus, to employ all his address to seize her. It 
 was, for some time, impracticable to execute his de- 
 sign, but he, at last stole in at a window with two 
 others, which Cleopatra perceiving drew out a dag- 
 ger, with a view to stab herself. The Roman, on 
 seeing this, caught hold of her arm, saying, " will 
 you, madam, injure both yourself and Octavius, by- 
 depriving him of the most illustrious testimony he can 
 give of his generosity, and make the gentlest of 
 princes pass for cruel.'* He then took the dagger 
 from her, and carefully searched her, lest she should 
 conceal any poison about her. 
 
 Octavius was greatly rejoiced at having this lofty 
 woman in his power, who had lifted the crown of 
 Egypt, above the Roman empire, yet commanded 
 her to be treated, in all respects, like a queen. She, 
 however, became so inconsolable for the loss of her li- 
 berty, that she resolved to starve herself to death ; but 
 her children being threatened with destruction, in 
 case of her adherence to her resolution, she was 
 obliged to desist. 
 
 Octavius, at length resolved to see her. He found 
 her in bed ; but as soon as she saw him, she rose in 
 her shift, and threw herself at his feet. Octavius 
 civilly lifted her up, and sat down by her bedside. 
 She began to justify her ; but the proofs against her 
 being too notorious, she turned her justification into 
 prayers, and put into his hand an inventory of her 
 treasure and jewels. Seleucus, her treasurer had fol- 
 lowed Octavius, and, by a barbarous ingratitude, at 
 firmed, that his mistress had concealed many things, 
 which were not in that account. Upon this, Cleopa» 
 tra's choler arose : she threw herself out of bed, and 
 running tQ .this perfidious officer, seized him by the 
 
DICTIONARY. 45 
 
 hair, and beat him severely. Her anger might be 
 real, yet the character of this woman makes one rea- 
 dy to suspect, that it was only to display her beautiful 
 shape, by which she had still some hopes of captiva- 
 ting- Octavius. But if this was her object, she entire- 
 ly failed ; he only laughed at the circumstance, and 
 led her to bed. 
 
 Having private notice soon after, that she was to 
 be carried to Rome, within three days, she caused 
 herself to be bitten by an asp, which was brought 
 to her concealed in a basket of figs ; and thus died 
 this princess, whose wit, beauty and insatiable ambi- 
 tion made so much noise in the world, after she had 
 reigned, from the death of her father, 22 years, and 
 lived 39. With her ended the family of the Ptolemies 
 in Egypt, after they had reigned from the death of 
 Alexander 294 years. 
 
 CLERC, (John Le) a most celebrated writer and 
 universal scholar, was born at Geneva, March 19th 
 1657. After he had been initiated in the first princi- 
 ples of literature by his father, who was a physician 
 and Greek professor in that city, he was at eight 
 years of age, sent to the grammar school, where he 
 soon discovered an uncommon inclination to books 
 and such a genius for poetry, that, if he had duly cul- 
 tivated it, he would probably have gained no small 
 reputation in that way. But the more serious studies, 
 to which he applied himself, made him eiUirely neg- 
 lect poetry, so that he never wrote verses, but on 
 some particular occasions. 
 
 When he was about sixteen years old, he began 
 the study of philosophy, in which he spent two years ; 
 but did not yet enter on the study of divinity, thinking 
 it better to employ another year in perfecting himself 
 still more in the belles lettres, and also in acquiring 
 the elements of the Hebrew tongue. Me, in the 
 mean time, read all the books, which could any way 
 
4G VEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 improve him in his pursuits : and, it was this con- 
 stant assiduity and application, to which he inured 
 himself in his youth, that enabled him afterwards to 
 go thfough so much uninterrupted fatigue of reading 
 and writing, and to publish such a vast variety of 
 works. 
 
 After he had passed through the usual forms of stu- 
 dy at Geneva, and had lost his father in 1676, he went 
 to France in 1678, but returning the year after, he 
 was ordained as a clergyman, with the general ap- 
 plause of his examiners. In 1682, he visited En- 
 gland, chiefly with a view to learn the language. 
 He preached several times in the French churches in 
 London, and visited several bishops and men of learn- 
 ing ; but the air of the town not agreeing with him, 
 he went to Holland, within the year, where he set- 
 tled. He preached before a synod, held by the re- 
 monstrants, at Rotterdam, in 1684 ; and was admit- 
 ted professor of philosophy, polite literature and He- 
 brew, in their school at Amsterdam. 
 
 The remainder of his life affords nothing but the 
 history of his works,* and of the controversies he was 
 engaged in ; but these would lead into too extensive 
 a detail. He continued to read regular lectures, as 
 professor of philosophy, and the belles letters -, and 
 because there was no single authors, who appeared 
 clear and full enough for his purpose, he projected a 
 design of drawing up some treatises himself. With 
 this view, he published in 1691, his " Logic, Onto- 
 logy and Pneumatology ;" arid to complete his course, 
 he, in 1695, added his " Natural Philosophy." He 
 also published his Art of Criticism ; a commentary on 
 the Old Testament ; an Ecclesiastical History of the 
 two First Centuries ; a French translation of the New 
 Testament &c. This last work, which was published 
 in 1703, made a great noise, and occasioned him to 
 be exclaimed against as a socinian. Some ministers 
 of Amsterdam, did all they could to persuade the 
 magistrates to prohibit it, and the Walloon synods also 
 
DICTIONARY. 47 
 
 endeavoured to have it suppressed ; but neither of 
 them succeeded in their attempts. 
 
 In 1786, he had begun with M. De la Crose^ his 
 " Bibliothequc Universelle and Historique," which 
 was continued to the year 1693, inclusive, in 26 vols. 
 In 1703 he began his " Bibliotheque choisee;'' by 
 way of supplement to the former; and continued it 
 till 1714, when he commenced another work on the 
 same plan, called " Bibliotheque Ancienne et Mo- 
 derne,** which he continued till 1728. These Blblio- 
 theques of le Clerc, may justly be deemed excellent 
 store-houses of useful knowledge ; and we may al- 
 most say, that there is hardly any question of import- 
 ance, relating either to ancient or modern, sacred or 
 prophane learning, the merits of which are not can- 
 vassed in some of these volumes. Besides critical 
 accounts of books, many complete dissertations may 
 be found in them, and also things of a historical na- 
 ture, such as memoirs, lives and elegies of great 
 men. The " Bibliotheque Choisee" consists of 28 
 volumes, and the "Ancienne and Moderne" of 29. 
 We may just observe, that these literary journals of 
 le Clerc were not written in an assuming or inquisi- 
 torial manner, but with a spirit of impartiality and 
 candour, which shewed him solicitous to do the strict- 
 est justice to every author, and to set him forth in the 
 light in which he ought to be seen. 
 
 The above, which is only a part of the vast num- 
 ber of books, published by Le Clerc abundantly 
 shew, that he was a very laborious, as well as a very 
 learned man. It is, indeed, probable, that he w^ould 
 have been a m.ore correct writer, if he had written 
 less ; his works, however, every where abound with 
 good sense and sound learning, and the greatest part 
 of them will be valued in every country, where liber- 
 ty and literature maintain their ground. 
 
 Notwithstanding his incessant application to study, 
 he enjoyed a very good state of health till 1728, 
 when he was seized with a palsy and fever, which 
 
4s NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 deprived him of speech and almost of memory. The 
 malady increased daily ; and, after spending the six 
 ]ast years of his life with little or no understanding, 
 he died January 8th 1736, in his seventy-ninth year. 
 
 CLERC, (George le) See Buffon. 
 
 CLERKE, (Captain Charles) a celebrated 
 English navigator, was born in 1740. He was bred 
 up in the navy from his youth and was present in seve- 
 ral actions, during the war of 1755. In that between 
 the Bellona and Courageux, he was in great danger; 
 for having been stationed in the mizen top, on board 
 the former, th^ mast was carried over board by a shot, 
 and he fell into the sea along with it. He was, how- 
 ever, taken up without having received any injury. 
 
 When commodore Byron made his first voyage 
 round the world, in 1764, Mr. Clerke served on 
 board the ship as a midshipman, and was afterwards 
 some time on the American station. In the year 
 17G8, he, a second time, sailed round the world in 
 the Endeavour, under captain Cook, as master's mate ; 
 but during the voyage, succeeded to a lieutenancy. 
 He returned in 1775, and was soon after appointed 
 master and commander. When captain Cook under- 
 took his last voyage, Mr. Clerke was appointed cap- 
 tain of the Discovery, and, on the melancholy death 
 of captain Cook, 14th Feb. 1779, succeeded to the 
 supreme command. He did not, however, long en- 
 joy his new dignity. Before he departed from Eng- 
 land, he had manifest symptoms of a consumption. 
 Of this disease he lingered, during the whole of his 
 voyage, and his long residence in the cold northern 
 climates, cut off all hopes of recovery ; but though 
 sensible that the only chance he had of prolonging his 
 life, was by a speedy return to a warmer climate, his 
 attention to his duty was so great^ that he persevered 
 
aOlCTIONARY, 49 
 
 tfi search of a passage between the Asiatic and Ame- 
 rican continents, until every one of the officers was of 
 opinion, that it was impracticable. He bore his dis- 
 temper with great firmness and equanimity, retaining 
 a good flow of spirits to the last, and died on the 22d 
 August, 1779, in the 38th year of his age ; the ship 
 being then within view of the coast of Kamptschatka, 
 where he was afterwards interred in the spot, on 
 which a church was to be erected, it having been his 
 Dwn desire to be buried in the church. 
 
 ^^^^^^^^^^ 
 
 CLIVE, (Robert) baron of Plassey, son of 
 Richard Clive, Esq. of Styche, was born in Shrop- 
 shire, England, 29th September, 1725. In his early 
 youth, Robert was sent to a private school, in Cheshire, 
 the master of which, observing, that, in courage and 
 sagacity, he far surpassed his fellows, discerned ia 
 the school-boy, the character of the future hero. 
 " If," said he, " that lad should live to be a man, and 
 an opportunity be given for the exertion of his ta- 
 lents, few names will be greater than his." 
 
 From this school at the age of eleven, he was re- 
 moved to another, in Market-Dray ton. In that town, 
 there stands, on the edge of a high hill, an ancient 
 Gothic church, from the lofty steeple of which, at 
 the distance of a few feet from the top, there projects 
 an old stone spout, in the form of a dragon^s head. 
 On this head he once seated himself, to the great 
 astonishment and terror of his school-fellows, who 
 were gazing from below. Yet he was not insensible 
 to danger, nor ever sought it, unless when it produced 
 applause ; when he would run with eagerness to meet 
 it : for, even when a boy, he loved honour more thau 
 he feared death. 
 
 He afterwards repeatedly changed his instructors, 
 till the year 1742, when he obtained! the appoint- 
 ment of a writer in the East-India company's service: 
 but, from a dislike to restraint, and an abhorrence to 
 
 Vo], U. No. 9. G 
 
50 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 all compulsion, his academical attainments seldom re- 
 ceived or deserved from his masters any particular ap- 
 plause : but they all agreed in giving him the charact- 
 er of being the most unlucky boy they ever had in 
 their schools. Such were the first aspects of a cha- 
 racter, which soon afterwards commanded the admir- 
 ation of the world ! 
 
 In consequence of Mr. Clive's appointment, be 
 embarked in one of the company's ships, and arrived 
 at Madjras, in the year 1744, in the nineteenth year 
 of his age. The same dislike to the drudgery of the 
 desk, the same impatience of controul, which dis- 
 tinguished him at school still marked his character, 
 and rendered his appointment as troublesome to his 
 superiors, as it was irksome to himself. On one oc- 
 casion, his conduct to the Secretary, under whom 
 the writers arc placed, was so inconsistent with the 
 discipline of office, that the Governor to whom it was 
 reported, commanded him to ask the Secretary's par- 
 don. The submission was made in terms of extreme 
 rontempt, but the Secretary received it graciously 
 and invited him to dinner, " no, sir," replied Clive, 
 ** the governor never commanded me to dine with 
 you." 
 
 Soon after the surrender of Madras to the French, 
 in September, 1746, Clive removed to Fort St, Da- 
 vid, where he had not. been long, till he happened 
 to be engaged in a party at cards with two ensigns, 
 who were detected in a combination to cheat the rest 
 cf the company. The ensigns had won considerable 
 sums, which, as their knavery was proved, the los- 
 ers at first, refused to pay; but the threats of the two 
 gamblers, soon intimidated all but Clive, who still 
 persisted in his refusal, and accepted of the challenge 
 which the boldest of them gave. Clive delivered his 
 fire, but his antagonist reserved his, and quitting his 
 ground, presented his pistol to Mr. Clives' head, and 
 bade him ask his life. After some hesitation, Clive 
 complied, but his antagonist telling him, he must also 
 
DICTIONARY. SI 
 
 recant the expressions he had used to his dishonour, 
 and promise payment of the money. " Fire and be 
 d — d/' said CJive, " I said you cheated; I say so 
 still, and will never pay you." The ensign finding 
 that all remonstrances were vain, called him a mad- 
 man, and threw away his pistol. When Clive's ac- 
 quaintances complimented him on his behaviour on 
 this occasion, he made the following remark : " The 
 man has given me my life, and I have no right in fu- 
 ture, to mention his behaviour at the card-table, al- 
 though 1 never will pay him, nor ever keep his com- 
 pany.'* 
 
 In 1747, Mr. Clive obtained an ensign's commis- 
 sion, and in 1748 greatly distinguished himself at 
 the siege of Pondicherry. , Jn the ensuing spring, the 
 news of a cessation of hostilities between Great-Bri- 
 tain and France arrived : but, though the subjects of 
 the two states had no longer a national pretence for 
 war, yet circumstances immediately occurred, to ren- 
 der the duration of peace very short in the eastern 
 part of the world. At this time, the dominions of a 
 neighbouring chief, the rajah of Tanjore were claim- 
 ed by his brother, a fugitive, who declared, that the 
 present rajah was an usurper ; and, that he himself, 
 though deposed by his subjects, was their rightful 
 Lord. Whether the English were, upon this occa- 
 sion, actuated by a regard to justice, or, which is as 
 probable, by a wiiih to promote their own aggran- 
 dizement, it would be foreign to our purpose to en- 
 quire ; they, however, espoused the cause of the fu- 
 gitive prince. Near the English settlement, was a 
 fort of the rajah called Devi Cotah, with the attack 
 of which, they resolved to begin their operations. 
 When they appeared before it, they found the ap- 
 proaches difficult, and the ramparts covered with in- 
 numerable troops, whose military prowess, experi- 
 ence had not yet taught them to despise. Clive alone 
 insisted tl^at the enterprise, though hazardous^ was 
 far from being desperate j for by advancing the can- 
 
52 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL " 
 
 Bon in the night, the gates might be destroyed, and 
 the town taken by a storm. The commanding office? 
 refused to listen to his advice, as too bold to be fol- 
 lowed, and continued a fruitless cannonade, till hav- 
 ing exhausted his ammunition, he was compelled to 
 ]ead back his troops with disgrace to Fort St. David. 
 Their shame at this discomfiture, its ill effects upon 
 their trade, and above all, the triumphs of the French, 
 determined the English to make a second attempt for 
 the reduction of Devi Cotah. The detachment con- 
 sisted of 800 British troops, and 1 500 Seapoys, un- 
 der the command of Major Lawrence, whose great 
 abilities, though, at that time, little known, soon after- 
 wards raised him to the highest rank in the service. 
 A breach being made in the walls, Clive,. then a 
 lieutenant, solicited the command of the forlorn hope, 
 and Major Lawrence having given his consent, a 
 platoon of 34 British, supported by 700 Sepoys was 
 ordered to storm the breach. Clive and the English 
 led the way. Between the camp and the fort was a 
 Tivulet, in passing which, four of the English fell by 
 the enemy's fire. The frightened Sepoys halted as 
 soon as they had passed the brook, but the English 
 pushed resolutely on ; and being now close upon the 
 breach, had levelled their musquets, when a party of 
 horse, whom a tower of the fort had hitherto con- 
 cealed, rushed upon their rear, and cut down twenty, 
 six of their number. One of the horsemen aimed a 
 stroke at Clive, but having escaped it, he ran towards 
 the rivulet, and had the good fortune to join the Se- 
 poys. Of the whole four and thirty, himself and 
 three others, were all, who were left alive. Major 
 Lawrence seeing the disaster, commanded all the 
 Europeans to advance. Clive still marched in the 
 first division. The horse renewed their attack, but 
 were repulsed with such slaughter, that the garrison, 
 dismayed at the sight, gave way as the English ap- 
 proached the breach, and, abandoned the town to 
 the victors. Alarmed at this unexpected success. 
 
DICTIONARY. 53 
 
 the rajah sent overtures of peace, to which, on condi- 
 tion that a settjement should be made on his rival 
 and the fort of Devi Cotah, with the adjoining dis- 
 trict be ceded to the company, the Enghsh acceded. 
 
 After the war, Clive returned to the civil estabiish- 
 ment -, his income was, however, considerably aug- 
 mented by his appointment to the office of commis- 
 sary to the British forces. He had not long been 
 settled at Madras, when a fever of the nervous kind 
 destroyed his constitution, and operated so banefully 
 on his spirits, that the constant presence of an atten- 
 dant became absolutely requisite, to prevent him 
 from doing injury to himself. As the disease abated, 
 his former strength was in some degree renewed ; 
 but his frame had received so rude a shock, that, dur- 
 ing the remainder of his life, excepting when his 
 mind was ardently engaged, the oppression on his 
 spirits frequently returned. 
 
 On account of the distraction of affairs in 1751, 
 Clive resumed his military character. Being then at 
 St. David, and having obtained a captain's commis- 
 sion, he undertook to conduct a detachment sent to 
 the relief of a fort of the nabob, which at that time 
 was closely besieged by a neighbouring chieftain, the 
 ally of his rival Chundasaheb. Led on by Clive, the 
 English broke through the chieftain's troops in the 
 night, and entered the fort amidst the applause of 
 the garrison. No sooner had he seen them safe, than 
 he attempted to return, accompanied by his servants, 
 and a guard of twelve Sepoys :, but they had not 
 proceeded fiir, when they found themselves surround- 
 ed by the chieftain's troops. Captain Clive resolved 
 to force his way, and the attempt succeeded ; but 
 seven of the Sepoys and several of his servants, fell 
 by the sabres of the enemy. 
 
 Having displayed great' skill and courage, Clive, 
 by stratagem and a timely reinforcement, defeated 
 three hundred Europeans, two thousand five hundred 
 Sepoys, and two thousand horse, which Dupleix and 
 
64 NEW BIOGKAPHICAI/ 
 
 Chundasaheb had sent against him ; and before the 
 end of the campaign, he had made himself master 
 of several forts belonging to the enemy. 
 
 Early in the next year, 1752, Captain Clive took 
 the field with three hundred and eighty Europeans, 
 two thousand Sepoys and two thousand five hundred 
 horse, and finding that the enemy intended to attack 
 Arcot, hastened to its relief. The enemy, who had 
 intelligence of his motions, had formed a plan to sur- 
 prize him in his march ; and having with them a nu- 
 merous party of French, had taken their measures 
 with so much judgment, that, the fire of nine pieces 
 of cannon was poured upon his men, from a small 
 distance, before he suspected an attack. The ex- 
 tremity of danger increased the activity, but never 
 disturbed the composure of his mind. The battle 
 hung in suspence till evening, when a detachment of 
 his troops attacked the enemy in the rear, and having 
 made themselves masters of their cannon, a general 
 defeat ensued. 
 
 It would far exceed our limits, to do justice to the 
 many and important military exploits of this officer, 
 whose actions alone would fill volumes. He was, in- 
 deed, acknowledged, as the man, who first raised his 
 countrymen's reputation in the East, so that when he 
 came over to England, in 1753, he was presented by 
 the court of Directors, with a rich sword set with 
 diamonds, as an acknowledgement of past, and an 
 incitement to future services. He returned to India 
 in 1755, as governor of Fort St. David, with the rank 
 of lieutenant-colonel ; when, as commander of the 
 Company's troops, he, in conjunction with Admiral 
 Watson, subdued Angria the pirate, and became 
 master of Geria, his capital,, with all his accumulated 
 treasure. 
 
 Soon after this, they sailed to Bengal, where they 
 took fort William in January 1757 5 and Colonel 
 Clive, defeating the Soubah's army soon after, accele- 
 rated a peace. It was however given out by the 
 
DICTIONARY* 55 
 
 ,^glish, that on account of the perfidious character 
 of that prince, no peace could be permanent with 
 him, unless he were deprived of the means to injure. 
 It, was, therefore, resolved to dethrone him, and 
 to substitute another in his stead. This idea, which 
 was first started by Colonel Clive, was readily adopt- 
 ed, and hostilities commenced, which terminated in 
 the soubah's ruin, he being totally defeated by Colo- 
 nel Clive at the battle of Plassey 1757. Next day, 
 the conqueror entered Muxadabad, in triumph, and 
 placed JafBer Ally Cawn, one of the principal gene- 
 rals, on the throne ; the deposed soubah was soon 
 after taken, and put to death by JafRer^s son. Ad- 
 miral Watson died at Calcutta, but Colonel Clive 
 commanded in Bengal, the two succeeding years ; 
 he was honoured by the Mogul, with the dignity of an 
 Ormah of the empire, and was rewarded by the new 
 Soubah, with a grant of land, producing about 
 120,000 dollars annually. 
 
 In 1760, he returned to England, where he receiv- 
 ed the unanimous thanks of the Company, was elect- 
 ed member of parliament, and raised to an Irish peer- 
 age, by the title of Lord Clive, baron of Plassey. 
 In 17G4, fresh disturbances occurring in Bengal, he 
 was sent as the only man qualified to settle them, 
 being again appointed to that presidency, and honour- 
 ed with the order of the bath, and the rank of major- 
 general. When he arrived in India, he exceeded the 
 most sanguine expectations, in restoring tranquillity 
 to the province, without striking a blow, and fixed 
 the highest ideas of the British power, in the minds 
 of the natives. He returned to England in 1767, 
 and, on the 21st February 1773, when a motion was 
 made, in the British parliament, to resolve, " that in 
 the acquisition of his wealth. Lord Clive had exceed- 
 ed the powers entrusted to him ;" he delivered, in a 
 long speech, a justification of his conduct. The 
 house soon after rejected the motion and resolved. 
 
56 NEW BlOGRAPHICAt 
 
 " that. Lord Clive had rendered great and meritoriav.^. 
 services to his country." 
 
 Soon after this period, however, he was again af- 
 fected with that most dreadful of all disorders insa- 
 nity, and watching the opportunity of his keeper's 
 absence, put an end to his own life, Nov. 22d 1774, 
 affording a most striking instance of the inefficiency 
 of wealth or external honours to confer happiness. 
 
 Whoever contemplates the forlorn situation of the 
 British East India Company, at the time, when Lord 
 Clive first arrived at Calcutta, in the year 1756, and 
 then considers the degree of opulence and power 
 they possessed, when he finally left that place in the 
 year 1767, will be convinced, that the history of the 
 world has seldom afforded an instance of so rapid and 
 improbable a change. At the first period, they were 
 merely an association of merchants struggling for ex- 
 istence ; at the last period, they were become power- 
 ful princes, possessed of vast revenues, and ruling 
 over fifteen millions of people. In short, he was alike 
 great in the cabinet and the field. 
 
 But however brilliant his military career, this noble- 
 man has, by no means, a just claim to indiscriminate 
 and lavish panegyric ; for, notwithstanding that he 
 was an affectionate son, a good father, and an excel- 
 lent friend, his name illustrious, as it undoubtedly 
 is, will be handed down to posterity with a long list 
 of Indian delinquents, who, dazzled by gold, and 
 commanding that powerful engine, military power, 
 have converted public authority to private emolu- 
 ment, and levied immense sums, on the hopes or fears 
 of the natives, under the specious name of voluntary 
 presents. 
 
 We are well aware, that it is too much the fashion 
 of the present day, to place great public services as a 
 set-off against offence, but such a conduct is neither 
 calculated to produce good effects on posterity, nor is 
 it compatible with the impartiality of the biogra- 
 pher 3 for hovv^ever delightful, it may be to hand down 
 
15ICTI0NARY, 5t 
 
 to posterity, the names of good men, as ornaments 
 of human nature, and public blessings, yet there 
 should be some provision for notoriously bad men, 
 the plagues and curses of their species. This, though 
 a less pleasing, is a necessary task, as it may be some 
 restraint on such men, in the fullness of power, to re- 
 collect, that a time would come, when their oppres- 
 sions and enormities might be delineated without fear, 
 and rendered objects of everlasting detestation. We 
 shall, therefore, without farther apology, mention 
 some of the grievous charges, which we think were 
 fully substantiated against Clive. First, by fraud or 
 by violence, and, in consequence of the deposition of 
 Rajah Dowlah, he became possessed of more than 
 20 lacks of rupees, nearly amounting to 1,110,000 
 dollars. Secondly, by a monopoly of salt, tobacco 
 and betel nut, equally unwarrantable and pernicious, 
 he secured a prodigious profit on these necessaries 
 oi life, to the extreme distress of many thousand 
 miserable natives. Thirdly, by menaces and violence, 
 he compelled Admiral Watson, to sign an iniquitous 
 treaty, for which the Admiral never forgave the gene- 
 ral, or himself. 
 
 These charges it is true. Lord Clive attempted to 
 answer ; but a perusal of his defence, has only served 
 to establish a conviction of his guilt. How then, it 
 may be asked, did he, if guilty, get clear of the attack 
 that was made against him, in the British parliament ? 
 The answer is easy. The opinion, which, Cicera 
 says, was entertained of the ancient Romans, may 
 with equal propriety, be now applied to Great-Bri- 
 tain and other modern nations. " An opinion" says 
 he, " highly injurious to ourselves and the common- 
 wealth has been long established, not only at Rome, 
 but also amongst foreign nations, that no man pos- 
 sessed of immense wealth, can be condemned, even 
 though his guilt be evidently apparent," 
 
 Vol. II, No. 9. H 
 
tb NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 CLOOTZ, (Jean Baptiste) wasbornat Cleves 
 in Prussia, but with respect to the precise time of his 
 birth we are uncertain. He was of noble extraction, 
 and is said to have had a considerable estate. After 
 having travelled through many countries of Europe, 
 he at last directed his way to Paris, where, at the 
 commencement of the French Revolution, he pub- 
 lished a number of letters in the News-papers, under 
 the signature of Clootz the Prussian. He afterwards 
 took the name of Anacharsis, from the Scythian phi- 
 losopher, though he had been christened Jean Bap- 
 tiste ; and lastly, superadded the title of Orator of 
 the human race. 
 
 Under this ludicrous title, and by the recomniend- 
 ations of some writings, v^^hich might have passed 
 for the effusions of a bedlamite, he attracted the 
 notice of the Parisians. He, at the same time, be- 
 gan to be a noisy member of the Jacobin club, and 
 was said to be the agent of similar societies forming 
 in Prussia. 
 
 Clootz still continued to write, to make speeches at 
 the Jacobins, and to appear occasionally in the assem* 
 bly. He was amongst the first republicans, and whea 
 the declaration of war against the emperor was in agi- 
 tation, sent a letter to the legislative assembly, re- 
 questing leave to present his ideas at the bar, and as- 
 suring them, that the permission would be no loss to 
 the assembly or to the world at large. This letter, the 
 brevity of which was the only compensation for its 
 absurdity, was dated " The capital of the globe, in 
 the third year of liberty" and signed " Anacharsis 
 Clootz, orator of the human race." He attended 
 the assembly the next day, and made a speech of two 
 hours, which was not inferior, in absurdity, to his let- 
 ter, and contained, amongst other matter, many se- 
 vere reflections against the different princes of Europe. 
 It was, however, highly applauded by the assembly 
 and the galleries, and graciously answered by the 
 President. 
 
DICTIONARY. $9 
 
 On the 2Ist April, 1792, war being declared, and 
 the Jacobin ministry appointed, he again appeared 
 at the bar, and delivered another harangue, in which 
 was the following observations : " God is powerful 
 and asserts his will — We are powerful and assert ours 
 — Freemen are the Gods of the earth.'" At the end 
 of his speech, he offered a copy of his book called 
 " La republique universelle" and twelve thousand li- 
 vres (2331 dollars.) This patriotic donation procur- 
 ed him the honours ot the sitting and mention in the 
 bulletin. 
 
 In this book, he appears a great advocate for one 
 common language, the French, and seems so well 
 convinced of the necessity of one universal govern- 
 ment, that he deems two suns above one horison, or 
 a pair of Gods in heaven not more absurd, than two 
 rations upon earth I He accordingly proposed, that 
 so soon as France should have conquered all her ene- 
 mies, every nation should send its representatives to 
 Paris; he had even allotted the different countries 
 into departments. England was to be called Departe^ 
 ment de la Tamise. 
 
 Soon after the overthrow of royalty, August 10th 
 1793, he once more made his appearance at the bar 
 of the assembly, and proposed to raise a legion of 
 Prussians to march to the frontiers, which should be 
 called Legion Vandale : his military project was ac- 
 cordingly decreed. His popularity indicated him as a 
 very proper person to receive the honour of naturaliz- 
 ation, which was accordingly conferred on him to- 
 gether with Paine, M*Intosh and others. 
 
 It is not certain, whether he personally took any 
 share in the massacre of the prisoners w^hichtook place 
 the 2d and 3d of September, but he was a constant 
 approver and defender of them. About this time he 
 was elected a m.ember of the convention for the de- 
 partement de I'Oise, andjjWas a strenuous mountaineer. 
 On the king's trial he voted against the appeal to the 
 
CiO NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 people and for death, accompanying each decision 
 with the most acrimonious reflections. 
 
 In his speeches to the Legislative Assembly, he at 
 first mentioned the name of the Supreme Being with 
 levity, but afterwards professed himself an avowed 
 atheist, and carried his profaneness to such an excess, 
 that he was called the personal enemy of Jesus Christ, 
 He wrote a book proving the nothingness of religion, 
 which he likewise presented to the convention on 
 the 1st. Nov. 1793 : but the reign of atheism was of 
 short duration, for on the 30th Dec. following, Ro- 
 bespierre obtained a decree of the convention, by 
 which Clootz was deprived of his seat, seals put on 
 his papers and himself confined in the Luxembourgh. 
 Here he seemed to harden in atheism : he even re- 
 proached Paine, who had just published his "Age 
 of Reason," and was then his fellow-prisoner, for re- 
 taining too many political and religious prejudices. 
 On the 31st of March, 1794, he was brought before 
 the revolutionary tribunal, together with Herbert and 
 his party. He appealed to the human race, of whom 
 Jie was the orator, but none of his clients interfered, 
 and he was condemned to death. The night, which 
 preceded their execution, was passed by the rest of 
 the condemned in complaints and mutual accusations^ 
 till Clootz finished the dispute, by repeating with a 
 loud voice, a celebrated French apologue well known 
 by the English translation : 
 
 " I dreamt, that gathered to my fellow Clay, 
 *' Close to a common beggar's side I lay, &c.'* 
 
 This quotation convincing the disputants, that all 
 their differences would soon be compromised by one 
 common lot, brought them to a more pacific disposi- 
 tion. He then exhorted them to die with resolution, 
 and endeavoured to confirm their atheistical princi- 
 ples, and to stifle the reproaches of conscience. His 
 efforts failed with most of his friends, who betrayed 
 
DICTIONARY. 61 
 
 the most dreadful alarms ; but Clootz hliTiSelf died 
 with the most undaunted firmness and resolution. 
 He insisted on being the last prisoner executed that 
 day, in order to have an opportunity of instilling 
 principles in the mind of each, by a short harangue, 
 which he pronounced, as the fatal guilotine was about 
 
 to descend on his neck, 
 
 COCKBURN, (John) Esq. of Ormiston, the fa- 
 ther of Scottish Husbandry, inherited, from his an- 
 cestors, a moderate estate, but a large porlion of gen- 
 uine patriotism, and true love of his country. In the 
 vavicus struggles, which Scotland had been making 
 for near two centuries, to shake off the fetters of ty- 
 ranny, the family of Ormiston acted a conspicuous 
 part. They were steady friends to the protestant re- 
 formers, active supporters of the revolution, and 
 warmly attached to the succession of the house of 
 Hanover. In a word, they were uniformly favpurers 
 of constitutional liberty, and enemies to despotism in 
 whatever form it appeared. 
 
 Mr. Cockburn entered upon the political stage at 
 an early period, and, during his father's life-time, was 
 a member of the Scottish parliament, at the memora- 
 ble a^ra of the union of the two kingdoms, in the 
 year 1707. He was successively elected to represent 
 East Lothian his native county, in the parliament of 
 Great-Britain from 1707 to 1741, and, during that 
 time filled several public stations. But it is not his 
 political life we mean to detail : for however brilliant 
 it might be, and however useful he might prove to 
 his country in his public capacities, these qualities 
 w^re ecclipsed by the numerous and successful at- 
 tempts he made to introduce beneficial practices, and 
 to promote the trade and agriculture of his native 
 country. 
 
 Mr. Cockburn succeeded to the estate of Ormis- 
 ton, about the year 1714. At that time, the agricul- 
 
62 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 ture of Scotland was reduced to the most languishing 
 state, the tenantry were sunk into indigence, and so 
 far from being able to make the smallest improve- 
 ment, they were mostly incapable of stocking the 
 very grounds they occupied. Fletcher of Salton, who 
 published a treatise upon the state of affairs in Scot- 
 land, in 1698, describes their situation as abject and 
 miserable ; and Lord Kaimes, in still stronger lan- 
 guage, declares, that, before the union, they were so 
 benumbed with oppression, that the most able instruc- 
 tor in husbandry would have made nothing of them. 
 This miserable situation was occasioned by a great 
 revolution, which had taken place after the accession 
 of James I. to the throne of England, in the capital 
 employed in cultivating the ground. Owing to a 
 considerable number of proprietors constantly residing 
 in that kingdom, the rents were raised ; and while 
 the avarice of the landlord increased, the trade and 
 commerce of the country declined. This, with a 
 succession of bad seasons, at the conclusion of the 
 seventeenth century, completely impoverished the ten- 
 antry, and consequently reduced the husbandry of 
 Scotland to the lowest ebb. 
 
 Mr. Cockburn viewed the situation of the country 
 with concern, and resolved to endeavour not only to 
 rouse up a spirit amongst the landed proprietors for 
 promoting improvements, but, also by every means 
 of encouragement to animate the tenantry to carry on 
 their operations with energy and vigour. Perfectly 
 sensible, that this could only be accomplished by giv- 
 ing the husbandman a security for reaping the fruits 
 of his improvements, he determined to sacrifice pri- 
 vate interest, and to give leases, that would tempt 
 the most indolent to exercise superior management. 
 His coaduct was imitated by many other proprietors, 
 although not to the same extent, and the consequen- 
 ces were soon evident. Open fields were inclosed, 
 wet lands were drained, new methods of cropping 
 were introduced, and a superior cultivation was prac- 
 
DICTIONARY. 63 
 
 tiscd. The effects of these improvements restored 
 the capital formerly lost by the husbandman, and 
 changed the face of the country from being barren 
 and waste, to the most fruitful appearance. 
 
 In the year 1716, Mr. Cockburn commenced his 
 operations upon the infields of Ormiston, which he 
 inclosed with ditches and hedges, interspersed with 
 trees of the most useful kinds, and a variety of beau- 
 tiful flowering shrubs, all in the English style, which 
 remain to this day as a proof of his genius and taste. 
 Having thus set an example to his tenants, he, in the 
 year J 7 18, re-let a farm to one of the most ancient of 
 them, and gave a lease renewable, every nineteen 
 years, upon very moderate terms, under the express 
 conditions, that the tenant should inclose the whole, 
 at his own expence ; which was immediately carried 
 into execution, and the ridges levelled and straighten- 
 ed, in conformity to the different inclosures. Soon 
 after, similar leases were granted to his other tenants, 
 and the whole estate was, in a few years, completely 
 inclosed. 
 
 But the enterprising spirit of this truly great man 
 did not rest here. In giving long leases, he enabled 
 his tenants to make improvements j but still it was ne- 
 cessary to teach them how these improvements should 
 be conducted. For this purpose, he brought down 
 skilful people from England, who introduced the cul- 
 ture of turnips, rape and red clover ; and, at the 
 same time he sent up the sons of his tenants to study 
 agriculture, in the best cultivated counties of that 
 kingdom ; experiments were, likewise made of the 
 effects of enriching land, by flooding, it with wa- 
 ter, a practice at present much extolled. Turnips 
 were sown upon his estate, so early as the year 1725, 
 and he brought the culture of this valuable root to 
 such perfection, that in 1735, a turnip of his raising, 
 weighing 34 3-4 lb. was carried to Edinburgh and 
 exhibited as a show. 
 
 A society for promoting improvements in agricul- 
 
64f NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 tnre was also established at Ormiston, under the pat- 
 ronage of Mr. Cockburn, of Vv^hich many patriotic 
 noblemen and gentlemen were members ; and not 
 only the tenants of the estate, but also those residing 
 in the neighbourhood were invited to attend. This 
 salutary institution was attended with the happiest 
 effects, and young men, from all quarters, flocked to 
 Ormiston, to learn new modes of cultivation. 
 
 Nor v/ere Mr. Cockburn's exertions confined to 
 agriculture alone. His active mind embraced every 
 object of industry, which promised to be of advan- 
 tage to his country. When efforts were making to 
 introduce the linen manufacture, he seized the oppor- 
 tunity of lending his aid, by establishing a colony of 
 Irishmen upon his estate, for carrying on that manu- 
 facture ; and erected a bleachfield, the second in Scot- 
 land, for whitening fine linens, which were formerly 
 sent to Hserlem, in Holland, To these Irishmen, 
 the country were indebted for the importation of that 
 valuable root the potatoe, which was raised in the 
 fields of Ormiston so early as 1734 ; and being agree- 
 able to every taste, rapidly spread over all Scotland, 
 and now forms so considerable a part of the subsist- 
 ence of the people. 
 
 The numerous attempts of this worthy man to in- 
 crease the prosperity of. his country, display a mind 
 fired with real and genuine patriotism ; all his cotem- 
 pories agree, that no individual carried his exertions 
 to a greater length, and the early superiority of the 
 East Lothian husbandry, over the rest of Scotland, 
 is attributed by our agricultural writers to the long 
 leases he granted. 
 
 We are not informed of the precise time of this 
 worthy man's death ; but when the whole of his ex- 
 ertions to promote improvements, and introduce a 
 spirit of industry are considered, we are warranted 
 to pronounce him " The father of Scottish husbandry, 
 an ornament to his country , and an honour to the couU" 
 iy of East Lothian ^ wiiich gave him birth '\ 
 
DICTIONARY^ 65 
 
 COKE or COOKE, (Sir Edward) Lord chief 
 justice of England, and one of the most eminent law- 
 yers that kingdom has produced, was descended from 
 a respectable family in Norfolk, and born in 1549. 
 After he had studied four years at the University of 
 Cambridge, he was entered a student of the Inner 
 Temple, London. We are told, that the first proof 
 he gave of the quickness of his penetration, and the 
 solidity of his judgment, was his stating the cook's 
 case of the Temple, which it seems had puzzled the 
 whole house, so clearly and exactly, that it was ta- 
 ken, notice of, and admired by the bench. 
 
 About the year 1578, he was appointed reader of 
 Lyon's Inn, when his learned lectures were much re- 
 sorted to. His reputation increased so fast, and with 
 it his practice, that when he had been at the bar but 
 a few years, he aspired to a young lady of one of the 
 first families in the kingdom, possessed of a fortune of 
 133,200 dollars, whom he, in a short time, married. 
 
 After this marriage, preferments flowed upon him. 
 The cities of Norwich and Coventry chose him for 
 their recorder ; the county of Norfolk for one of their 
 representatives in parliament: and the house of com- 
 mons for their speaker, in the 35th year of Queen 
 Elizabeth. The Queen appointed him solicitor gene- 
 ral in 1592, and attorney general in the year follow- 
 ing. In 1603, he was knighted by King James I. 
 and the same year managed the trial of Sir Walter 
 Raleigh, at Winchester, whither the term was ad- 
 journed on account of the plague being at London. 
 He lessened himself greatly, in the opinion of the 
 world, by his treatment x}( that unfortunate gentle- 
 man, for he exerted a fury and scurility of language 
 against him hardly to be paralleled. 
 
 In June 1606, he was appointed lord chief justice 
 of the common pleas; and in 1613, lord chief justice 
 of the king's bench, and one of the privy council. 
 In 1615, he was very vigorous in the discovery and 
 prosecution of the persgns employed in poisoning Sir 
 
 Vol. II, No, 10. I 
 
6G' NEW BIOGRAPHICA.L 
 
 Thomas Overbury in the tower, in 1612. In this 
 affair, he acted with great vigour, and, as some thinks 
 in a manner highly to be commended ; yet his ene- 
 mies, who were numerous, and had formed a design 
 to humble his pride and insolence, took occasion to 
 represent him in a bad light, both to prince and peo- 
 ple. Many circumstances concurred, at this time, 
 to hasten his fall. He had a contest with the lord 
 chancellor Egerton, in which it was universally al- 
 lowed, he was much to blame, and had also given 
 otTence to the king, by calling his prerogative in ques- 
 tion. In fine, his overbearing disposition had render- 
 ed him generally obnoxious to those in power, and it 
 was deemed expedient to curb his ambition. He 
 was, therefore, brought before the council, at White- 
 hall, June 1616, where various charges being exhi- 
 bited against hin^, he presented his defence. The 
 business was thoroughly discussed by the council, 
 and their opinion reported to his majesty, who, though 
 he was by no means satisfied with respect to any of 
 the heads, yet, in regard to the former services of his 
 lordship, only decreed — 1st. That he should be se- 
 questered from the council table — 2d. That he should 
 forbear to ride his summer circuit as justice of the 
 assize — 3d. That during this vacation, he should take 
 into consideration and review his books of reports, 
 wherein, as his majesty was informed,, there were ma- 
 ny opinions highly extravagant^, set dov^n as positive 
 and good law ; and that after he had made such cor- 
 rections, as to him should seem proper, he should af- 
 terwards privately submit them to his majesty for his- 
 decision. To this the lord chief justice made an- 
 swer, that he did, in all humility, prostrate himself 
 to his majesty's gt)od pleasure, acknowledged the 
 decree to be founded more on clemency than strict 
 justice, thanked their lordships for their goodness to- 
 w^ards him, and hoped, that his future behaviour 
 would be such as to deserve their favour. From- 
 ^hich answer, we may learn^ that Sir Edward^, like 
 
DICTIONARY. 67 
 
 all others, who are insolent and overbearing in pros- 
 perity, was dejected and fawning in adversity ; thq 
 same mean and abject spirit influencing their behavi- 
 our in both conditions. In October following, he was 
 called before the chancellor and forbid Westminster- 
 hall, and, in November, was removed from the of- 
 fice of lord chief justice. 
 
 Low as Sir Edward had now fallen, he had the 
 address, to get himself soon after restored to favour ; 
 which, however, he, upon this occasion, did not long 
 retain: for in the year 1621, he vigorously maintain- 
 ed, in the house of commons, that no proclamation 
 was of any force, against the tenour of acts of par- 
 liament; and also, in opposition to the v/ell known 
 wishes of the court, strenuously contended for the 
 liberty of speech, and other important privile- 
 ges of the people. On the 27th December, Sir 
 Edward was committed to the tower, and his pa- 
 pers seized : and on the 6th January 1622, he was 
 charged before the council with having concealed 
 some true examinations in the great cause of the Earl 
 of Somerset, and obtruding false ones. He was, 
 however, soon after released, but not without receiv- 
 ing high marks of the king's resentment ; for, he was 
 a second time, turned out of the privy council, the 
 king giving him this character, that " he was the 
 fittest instrument for a tyrant, that ever w^as in En- 
 gland ;" and yei he had in the house of commons, 
 called the king's prerogative " an overgrown mon- 
 ster." . Towards the close of 1623, he was nominat- 
 ed with several others, to whom large powers were 
 given, to go over to Ireland ; but this nomination 
 though accompanied with strong expressions of con* 
 fidence, was made with no other view, than to get 
 him out of the way, for fear he should be trouble- 
 some ; but he contrived not to go. lie remained 
 steadfast to his opinions, nor does it appear, that he 
 ever sought to be reconciled to the court, so that he 
 
68 KEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 was absolutely out of favour at the death of king 
 James. 
 
 In the beginning of the next reign, when it was 
 found necessary to call a new parliament, the court 
 party, to prevent his being elected a member, gofe 
 him appointed sheriff of Buckinghamshire. He la- 
 boured all he could to avoid it, but in vain, so that he 
 w^as obliged to serve the office, and to attend the 
 Judges at the assizes, where he had ofte-n presided 
 as lord chief justice. This did not hinder his being 
 elected knight of the shire for Bucks, in the parlia- 
 ment of 1623, in which he disting-uished himself more 
 than any man in the House of Commons, spoke 
 warmly for the redress of grievances, argued boldly 
 in defence of the liberty of the subject, and strenous- 
 3y supported the privileges of the house. 
 
 Atter the dissolution of parliament, which hapened 
 the March following, he retired to his house in Buck- 
 inghamshire, where he spent the remainder of his 
 days. AVhilst he lay on his death bed, his papers and 
 last will were seized by an order of council ; nor were 
 any part of them given up to his heirs, till about se- 
 ven years after his death. He died September 3d, 
 1634, in his eighty-sixth year, expiring with these 
 remarkable words in his mouth, as his monument in- 
 forms us : " Thy kingdom come, thy will be done." 
 
 Sir Edward had great quickness of parts, deep pe- 
 netration, a faithful memory, and a solid judgment. 
 He committed every thing to writing with an indus- 
 try beyond example, and published a great deal. He 
 met with many changes of fortune, was sometimes 
 in power, and sometimes out of it. He was, how- 
 ever, so excellent at making the best of a disgrace, 
 that king James used to compare him to a cat, who 
 always fell upon her legs. " His learned and labori- 
 ous works on the laws,'' says Fuller, in his Worthies, 
 " will be admired by judicious posterity, while fame 
 has a trumpet left her, or any breath to blov/ therein." 
 His principal works are— -1st, '' Reports and cases. 
 
' DICTIONARY. 65 
 
 during the most happy reign of the most illustrious 
 and renovvn.ed Queen Elizabeth." 2d. " A book of 
 entries." 3d. " His institutes of the laws of En- 
 gland." The first part of this work, is only a trans- 
 lation and commentary upon the *' Tenures of Sir 
 Thomas Littleton," one of the judges of the common 
 pleas, in the reign of Edward IV. The second part 
 gives us Magna Charta, the so much boasted palla- 
 dium of English liberty, and other select statutes, 
 in the languages in which they were first enacted ; to 
 "which is added, a most excellent and learned com- 
 mentary, wherein he shews how the common laws 
 stood before those statutes were made, how far they 
 are introductory of new laws, and how far decJarato- 
 ly of the old ; what were the causes of making them, 
 and, in what degree, at the time of his writing, they 
 were either altered or repealed. The third part con- 
 tains the criminal law, or pleas of the crown, where, 
 amongst other things, he shews, how far the king 
 may proceed by his prerogative, in regard to pardons 
 and restrictions ; and, where the assistance of parlia- 
 ment is necessary. The fourth part contains the ju- 
 risdiction of all the courts in England, from the high 
 court of parliament, down to the court-baron. Al- 
 though this w-ork was written in England, at a remote 
 period, yet it is highly appreciated by the most distin- 
 guished counsellors in the United States, and contains 
 much information, which will be deemed highly in- 
 teresting to gentlemen of leisure, who are fond of in- 
 vestigating such subjects. 
 
 COLBERT, (John Baptist E Marquis) of Seg- 
 nelai, one of the greatest statesmen that France ever 
 had, was born at Paris, in 1619, and descended from 
 a family no ways considerable for its splendour or an- 
 tiquity. His grand-father and father were m.erchants, 
 and he himself was brought up to the same profes- 
 sion 5 but afterwards became clerk to a notary. - In 
 
70 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 1648, he was recommended to the service of Michael 
 Le Tellier, Secretary of State, and here he discovered 
 such diligence and accuracy in executing all commis- 
 sions entrusted to his care, that he, in a short time, 
 became greatly distinguished. 
 
 Upon a certain occasion, Le Tellier had sent him 
 to Cardinal Mazarine, who was then at Sedan, with 
 a letter written by the queen mother, and ordered him 
 to bring it back, after that minister had seen it. 
 Colbert carried the letter, and would not return with- 
 out it, though the cardinal treated him roughly, used 
 several arts to deceive him, and obliged him to wait 
 for it several days. Some time after, the cardinal re- 
 turning to court, and wanting a confidential secretary, 
 desired Le Tellier to furnish him with a proper person 
 for that employm.ent : and Colbert being presented to 
 him, the cardinal had some remembrance of him, and 
 desired to know where he had seen him. Colbert 
 was afraid of putting him in mind of Sedan, lest the 
 remembrance of his importunity in demanding the 
 queen's letter, should renew the cardinal's anger ; 
 but Mazarine was so far from being displeased with 
 him, that he greatly commended him for his fidelity 
 to his late master, and desired him to serve him with 
 the same zeal and integrity. 
 
 Colbert accommodated himself so dextrously to the 
 inclinations of the cardinal, that he first made him his 
 intendant, and afterwards entrusted him with the man- 
 agement of that gainful trade of selling benefices 
 and governments. By Colbert's counsel, the cardinal 
 obliged the governors of frontier places to maintain 
 their garrisons, with the contributions they exacted, 
 with which advice his eminence was so well pleased, 
 that he soon after sent him to Rome, to negociate 
 some business of the utmost importance, with his 
 holiness the Pope. 
 
 Upon the whole. Mazarine had so high an opinion 
 of Colbert's abilities and faithful services, that, at 
 his death, in 1661, he earnestly recommended him 
 
Dictionary: tI 
 
 to Louis XIV. as the most proper person to regulate 
 the finances ; which, at that time, stood greatly in 
 need of reformation. Louis accepted the recommen- 
 dation, and made Colbert intendant of the finances. 
 He applied himself to their regulation and succeed- 
 ed ; though it procured him many enemies and some 
 affronts. France is also obliged to this minister for 
 establishing at that time, her trade with the East and 
 West-Indies : a great design, and from which she has 
 reaped innumerable advantages. 
 
 In 1664, he became superintendant of the build- 
 ings ; and from that time, applied himself so earnestly 
 to the enlarging and adorning the royal edifices, that 
 they are at present master-pieces of architecture : 
 witness the palace of the Thuillieries, the Louvre, 
 St. Germain, Fontainbleau, Sec. But royal palaces 
 were not Colbert's only care : he formed several de- 
 signs for increasing the beauty and convenience of 
 the capital, which he executed with great magnifi- 
 cence and grandeur. 
 
 He established the academy for painting and sculp- 
 ture, and the academy of sciences, as also the royal 
 observatory at Paris. France also owes to him all 
 the advantages she receives from the communication 
 between the ocean and the Mediterranean,by the canal 
 of Languedoc, an immense work, which was begun 
 in 1666, is extended over hills and vallies for upwards 
 of 100 miles, and was completed in 1680. Colbert 
 was, likewise, attentive to matters of a more private 
 nature, such as regarded the order, decency and com- 
 fort of society. He undertook to reform the courts 
 of justice, and to put a stop to the usurpation of ti- 
 tles of nobility j a practice, which was then very com- 
 mon in France. In the former of these laudable at- 
 tempts he failed ; in the latter he succeeded. 
 
 In 1669, he was made secretary of state, and en- 
 trusted with the management of affairs, relating to 
 the seas ; the duties of which ofrice, he performed in 
 such a manner, as to answer the high confidence 
 
l'2i NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 Louis reposed In him. He suppressed several expen-' 
 sive and useless offices, and proposed several new re- 
 gulations in criminal courts. For the advancement 
 of trade, he likewise, procured an edict to erect a 
 general insurance-office, at Paris, for merchants, &;c. 
 In 1672, he was made prime minister, in which ex- 
 alted station he continued till his death, which hap- 
 pened 6th Sept. 1683. He had been married many 
 years, and left six sons and three daughters, all of 
 whom he had taken care to marry to persons of rank. 
 Colbert was a man of middle stature. His mien 
 was lov/ and dejected, his air gloomy, and his aspect 
 stern and forbidding, yet he knew how to act the lo- 
 ver, for notwithstanding the large family which he 
 had in wedlock, he openly violated the rules of mora- 
 lity, by keeping mistresses. He was of a slow con- 
 ception, but spoke judiciously of every thing after he 
 comprehended it. He understood business perfectly 
 well, and pursued it with unwearied application. 
 Thus he filled the most important places with high 
 reputation and credit, and its influence diffused it- 
 self, through every part of the government. He res- 
 tored the finances, the navy, the commerce, and erect- 
 ed those various works of art, which have ever since 
 been monuments of his taste. He was a lover of 
 learning, and conferred donations and pensions upon 
 men of science in other countries, whilst he estab- 
 lished and protected academies in hisown. He invit- 
 ed into France eminent artists of all kinds ; thus 
 giving new life to the sciences, and making them 
 flourish exceedingly. Upon the whole, he was a wise, 
 active and public spirited minister ; ever attentive to 
 the honour of his king, the happiness of the people, 
 and every thing, v^/hich could advance the credit and 
 interest of his country. 
 
 COLLINS, (William) a late unfortunate, but 
 admirable poet, was born at Chichester, England, 
 
DICTIONARY. 7S 
 
 about the year 1124'. He received his classical eda- 
 cation at Winchester; after which he studied at Ox- 
 ford, where he applied himself to poetry, and pub- 
 lished his "Oriental Eclogues;" with regard to which 
 it may be justly asserted, that, in simplicity of des- 
 cription and expression, in delicacy and softness of 
 numbers, and in natural and unaffected tenderness, 
 they are not to be equalled by any thing of the pasto- 
 ral kind in the English language. 
 
 About 1744, he suddenly left the university, and 
 came to London, where, in 1746, he published his 
 OdeSj descriptive and allegorical ; but the sale of this 
 work not being answerable to its merit, he burnt the 
 remaining copies in indignation. Being a man of a 
 liberal spirit, and of small fortune, his pecuniary re- 
 sources were soon exhausted, and his life became a 
 miserable succession of necessity, indolence and dis- 
 sipation. He projected books, which he was not able 
 to publish ; for he wanted the means to carry his ideas 
 into execution. Day succeeded day, for the support 
 of which he made no provision ; and he was obliged 
 to subsist either by the repeated contributions of a 
 friend, or the generosity of a casual acquaintance. 
 His spirit became oppressed, and he sunk into a sul- 
 len despondence. While in this gloomy state of mind, 
 his uncle, colonel Martin died, and left him a con- 
 siderable fortune ; but this came too late for enjoy- 
 ment. He had been so long harrassed by anxiety and 
 distress, that he fell into a nervous disorder, which, 
 at last, reduced the finest understanding to the most 
 deplorable childishness. In the first stages of this 
 disorder, he endeavoured to relieve himself by travel- 
 ling, and passed into France ; but the growing mala- 
 dy obliged him to return ; and, having continued, 
 with short intervals, in the most piteous state of men- 
 tal derangement, he died, in 1756. 
 
 The close of the life of poor Collins can never be 
 adverted to without commiseration ; for when he 
 could have enjoyed his fortune, he had it not ; and 
 
 Vol. II. No. \0. K 
 
74 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 when it came to him, he was in too melancholy a 
 state to enjoy it. The ingenious Mr. Longhorne pub- 
 lished his poetical works soon after his death, with 
 memoirs of the author, in one vol. 12mo. 
 
 COLUMBUS, (Christopher) the celebrated 
 navigator, and first discoverer of the islands of Ameri- 
 ca, was a native of the Republic of Genoa, and 
 born about the year 1447. With respect to his pedi- 
 gree, we have no certain information, only that he 
 was descended of an honourable family, who, by 
 various misfortunes, had been reduced to indigence. 
 His parents were sea-faring people, and Columbue^ 
 having early discovered an inclination for that way of 
 life, was encouraged by them to follow the same pro- 
 fession. He was accordingly initiated in the sciences 
 of geometry and astronomy, which form the basis of 
 navigation, and at the age of fourteen went to sea. 
 
 His first voyages were to those parts of the Medi- 
 terranean, frequented by the Genoese; after which he 
 visited Iceland, and proceeding still farther North, 
 sdvanced several degrees within the polar circle. Af- 
 ter this, he entered int^o the service of a sea-captain 
 of his own name and familv, who commanded a small 
 squadron, fitted out at his own expence ; and by 
 cruizing sometimes against the Mahometans and 
 sometimes against the Venetians, the rivals of his 
 country in trade, had acquired both v^^'ealth and repu- 
 tation. With him, Columbus continued for several 
 years, no less distinguished for his courage, than his 
 experience as a sailor. At length, in an obstinate 
 engagement off the coast of Portugal, with some 
 Venetian caravels, returning richly laden from the 
 Low countries, the vessel on board which he sailed, 
 took fire, together with one of the enemies ships, to 
 which it was fast grappled. At this alarming crisis, 
 Columbus threw himself into the sea, and laid hold of 
 a floating oar, by means of which, and his own dex- 
 
DICTIONARY. 75 
 
 Verity in swimming, be reached the shore, thougli 
 ^bove two leagues distant. After this disaster, he 
 Tepaired to Lisbon, where he married a daughter of 
 Bartholomew Perestiello, one of the captains employ- 
 ed by Prince Henry oi: Portugal, in his early naviga- 
 tions, and who had discovered and planted the islands 
 of Porto Santo and Madeira. 
 
 Having got possession of the journals and charts 
 of that experienced navigator, Columbus was seized 
 with an irresistible desire of visiting unknown coun- 
 tries. To indulge it, he made a voyage to Aladeira, 
 and continued for several years to* trade with that 
 island, the Canaries, Azores, the settlements in Gui- 
 nea, and all the other places which the Portuguese 
 had discovered on the continent of Africa. By the 
 experience acquired in such a number of voyages, 
 Columbus now became one of the most skilful navi- 
 gators in Europe. 
 
 It must here be premised, that, for many centuries, 
 previous to the days of Columbus, the rich and use- 
 tul productions of India had been conveyed into Eu- 
 rope, either by caravans, through the desarts of Syria 
 and Arabia, or by the way of the Red Sea, through 
 Egypt, into the Mediterranean ; but as either of these 
 modes was attended with great .difficulty and expencc, 
 a passage to the East Indies, by doubling the Cape 
 of Good Hope, had become a favourite object of 
 discovery with the Portuguese: but, though they ha,d, 
 at that time, consumed about half a century in mak- 
 ing various attempts, they had advanced no farther 
 on the Western coast of Africa, than just to cross the 
 equator. The danger and tediousness of the voyage, 
 however, supposing it to be really accomplished, 
 w^hich as yet it was not, set Columbus on consider- 
 ing whether a shorter and more direct passage to these 
 regions mJght be found ; and, after having thorough- 
 ly weighed the matter, he at last became fully cpn- 
 vinced, that, by sailing across the Atlantic ocean, di- 
 rectly towards the Yfest, new countries^ w^hich pro- 
 
76 KEvV BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 bably formed a part of the vast continent of India, 
 must infallibly be discovered. His reasons for this, 
 were, in the first place, the know^ledge, which from 
 his long and close application to geography and navi- 
 gation, he had acquired of the true figure of the 
 earth. He reflected, that the continents of Europe, 
 Asia and Africa, as far as then known, formed but a 
 small part of the globe ; and he considered it to be 
 much more suitable to the ideas we entertain of the 
 wisdom and beneficence of the great Author of Na- 
 ture, to believe that the vast space still unexplored, 
 was occupied by countries fit for the habitations of 
 men, than to suppose it entirely covered by an im- 
 mense and barren ocean ; besides, he was led to con- 
 ceive, that, in order that the terraqueous globe might 
 be properly balanced, and the lands and seas duly 
 proportioned to each other, it v^'as indispensably ne- 
 cessary, that a large continent should exist in the 
 Western hemisphere. 
 
 These conjectures were confirmed by the observa- 
 tions of modern navigators. A Portuguese pilot hav- 
 ing stretched farther to the West, than was usual, at 
 that time, took up a piece of timber artificially carved, 
 floating upon the sea ; and, as it was driven towards 
 him by a westerly wind, he concluded, that it came 
 from some unknown land situated in that quarter. 
 Columbus's brother-in-law had found to the West of 
 the Madeira Isles, a piece of timber fashioned in the 
 same manner, and brought by the same wind ; and 
 had also seen canes of an enormous size floating upon 
 the waves, which resembled those described by Ptole- 
 my, as productions peculiar to the East-Indies. Af- 
 ter a course of westerly winds, trees torn up by the 
 roots, were often driven upon the coast of the Azores ; 
 and, at one time, the dead bodies of two men, with 
 singular features, which resembled neither the inhabi- 
 tants of Europe nor Africa, were cast ashore there. 
 The most cogent reason, however, was a mistaken no- 
 tion of the ancient geographers concerning the ira- 
 
DICTIONARY. 77 
 
 inense extent of India ; for though hardly any of them 
 had penetrated beyond the river Ganges, some Greek 
 writers had ventured to describe the provinces beyond 
 that river, as regions of an immense extent. Ctesias 
 affirmed, that India was as large as all the rest of 
 Asia : Onesicritus, whom Pliny the naturalist follows, 
 contended, that it was equal to a third part of the 
 habitable globe : Nearchus asserted, that it would take 
 four months to march from one extremity of it to the 
 other in a straight line ; and the journal of Marco 
 Polo, who travelled into Asia, in the 13th century, 
 and who had proceeded towards the East far beyond 
 the limits to which any European had ever advanced, 
 seemed also so much to conhrm these accounts, that 
 Columbus was persuaded, that the distance from the 
 most westerly part of Europe to the most easterly 
 part of Asia was not very considerable ; and that the 
 shortest as well as most direct course to the /emote 
 regions of the East, was to be found by sailing due 
 West. 
 
 Having fully satisfied himself with respect to the 
 truth of his system, he became impatient to reduce it 
 to practice -, but as his fortune was small, it was ne- 
 cessary to secure the patronage of some of the Euro- 
 pean powers. He, accordingly, laid his scheme, be- 
 fore the senate of Genoa, considering it as his duty, 
 to make the first offer of his services to his native 
 country. They, however rejected his proposal as the 
 dream of a chimerical projector, and thus lost, for 
 ever, the opportunity of restoring their commonwealth 
 to its ancient lustre. He then repaired to John II. 
 king of Portugal, who though of an enterprising ge- 
 nius, and no inconsiderable judge of^ naval affairs, 
 had been at so vast expence in prosecuting discove- 
 ries on the coast of Africa, without any considerable 
 success, that he declined to accept the terms, which 
 Columbus proposed. Infiuenced, however, by the ad- 
 vice of a favourite courtier, he secretly dispatched a 
 vessel to attempt the proposed discovery, by follow- 
 
73 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 ing exactly the course, which Columbus had pointed 
 out : but the pilot chosen to execute Columbus's plan, 
 had neither the genius nor fortitude of its author. 
 Contrary winds arose ; no signs of approaching land 
 appeared -, his courage failed, and he returned to Lis- 
 bon, execrating the project as equally extravagant and 
 dangerous. 
 
 Disgusted with this dishonourable transaction, he 
 quitted Portugal,- ^nd went to Ferdinand and Isabella, 
 who, at that time governed the united kingdoms of 
 Castile and Arragon ; and, at the same time, sent 
 his brother Bartholomew to England, to lay his pro- 
 ject betore Henry VII. who was reckoned one of ^the 
 most sagacious, as well as opulent princes of Europe : 
 but Bartholomew being taken by pirates and detain- 
 ed several years in captivity, was not able to lay his 
 proposals before Henry, till his brother was upon the 
 point of accomplishing his wishes in another quarter. 
 
 Columbus, in person, made his proposals to the 
 court of Spain, not, however, without many doubts 
 of success, which soon appeared to be well founded. 
 True science had as yet made so little progress in that 
 kingdom, that most of those to whom the considera- 
 tion of his plan was referred, w^ere utterly ignorant 
 of the first principles, on which he grounded his 
 hopes. Some, from mistaken notions concerning the 
 dimensions of the globe, contended that a voyage to 
 those remote regions of the East, which Columbus 
 expected to discover, could not be performed in less 
 than three years. Others concluded, that either he 
 would find the ocean ol: infinite extent, according to 
 the opinion of some ancient philosophers; or, that if 
 he should persist in steering w^estw^rd beyond a cer- 
 tain point, the ship going necessarily down on the 
 opposite side, it would be impossible, that she should 
 ever re-ascend, even with the strongest wind ; hence 
 that he w^ould perish in the vain attempt to unite the 
 two hemispheres, which Nature had for ever disjoined. 
 Even, without deigning to enter into any particular 
 
DICTIONARY. T9 
 
 discussion, some rejected the scheme, In general, upon 
 the credit of a maxim, under which the ignorant and 
 indolent of every age, shelter themselves: " That it 
 is presumptuous in any person to suppose, that he 
 alone possesses superior knowledge to ail the rest of 
 mankind." They maintained, likewise, that if there 
 were really any such countries as Columbus pretended, 
 they would not have remained so long unconcealed ; 
 nor would the wisdom and sagacity of former ages 
 have left the glory of this discovery to an obscure 
 Genoese pilot. But there was, still another objection, 
 which might, perhaps, in these days of superstition, 
 have operated more powerfully on the minds of the 
 Spaniards, to dissuade them from entering into the 
 views of Columbus, than any we have as yet men- 
 tioned. St. Austin, in a book called the " City of 
 God," had denied the existence of the Antipodes, and 
 the possibility of going from one hemisphere to the 
 other: and as the writings of this father had received 
 the sanction of the church, to contradict him was 
 deemed heresy. 
 
 For such sagacious reasons, the proposal of Colum- 
 bus was for several years rejected. By his steadfast 
 perseverance, however, and the influence of some of 
 his friends. Queen Isabella at last broke through all 
 obstacles, and declared herself the patron of Colum- 
 bus. The negociation now went forward with all 
 facility and dispatch ; and a treaty was signed, on 
 the 17th April 1492. The chief articles of which 
 were, that Columbus, his heirs and successors, should 
 hold the office of admiral in all those islands and con- 
 tinents, which he should discover ; that he should be 
 viceroy of the same, with power of nominating three 
 associates, of whom their majesties should appoint 
 one : that he should have a tenth part of the nett pro- 
 ceeds of all the gold, silver, precious stones, &:c. 
 which should be found ; and that all controversies 
 with respect to mercantile transactions should be de- 
 cided by him, or by a deputy of his own appointment; 
 
80 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 and lastly, that he should be at one eight part of the 
 expences of the first fleet, in consequence of which, 
 he was permitted to carry on merchandize w^ith the 
 new countries, and entitled to one eight part of the 
 profit. But though the name of Ferdinand was join- 
 ed with Isabella, in this transaction, his distrust of 
 Columbus w^as still so violent, that he refused to take 
 any share in the enterprize as king of Arragon ^ and 
 as the whole expence of the expedition was to be de- 
 frayed by the crown of Castile, Isabella reserved for 
 her subjects of that kingdom, an exclusive right of all 
 the benefits, which might accrue from its success. 
 Thus, to the superior decision of a woman's mind, 
 do we owe the discovery of this extensive continent. 
 
 The vessels sent on this important search were only 
 three in number, and two of them very small^ the whole 
 having ninety men on board ; and although the ex- 
 pence of the expedition had long remained the sole 
 obstacle to its being undertaken, yet when every thing 
 was provided, the cost did not amount to more than 
 17^760 dollars, and there were twelve months provi- 
 sion put on board. 
 
 On the 3d x\ugust 1492, he set sail from Port Pa- 
 los, in the province of Andelusia, Spain, in the pres- 
 ence of a crowd of spectators, who united their sup- 
 plications to heaven for his success. Having passed 
 through the Straits of Gibraltar, he arrived at the Ca- 
 naries, on the 12th of the same month, w^here he was 
 detained in repairing one of his crazy vessels, and ta- 
 king in wood and water till the 6th September, w^hen 
 he launched out into an unknown ocean. 
 
 Columbus now found a thousand unforeseen hard- 
 ships to encounter, which demanded all his judgment, 
 fortitude, and address to surmount. Besides the dif- 
 ficulties unavoidable, from the nature of his underta- 
 kins:, he had to stru2:£:le with the ignorance or timi- 
 dity of the people under his command, who were 
 going directly from home, and from all hope of relief, 
 if any accident should betal them s as no friendly 
 
DICTIONARY* 81 
 
 potis, nor human being was known to be in that di- 
 rection, in which they were bound. Amongst the 
 various causes, which tended to alarm them, the 
 variation ot the magnetic needle, was not the least. 
 This extraordinary phenomenon, then first observed, 
 seemed to indicate that nature herself had sustained 
 a change, and that heaven incensed at their audacity 
 had let't them to perish, by depriving them of the only 
 guide they had to point them to a saTe retreat, from 
 an unbounded and trackless ocean. The trade wind 
 too, which was rapidly sweeping them along, by con- 
 stantly blowing in one direction, seemed to preclude 
 all possibility of a return. 
 
 To be twenty days at sea, without sight of land, 
 was what the boldest mariner had never before at- 
 tempted. At the expiration of that time, the impa- 
 tient sailors, who had already, at different times, evinc- 
 ed a mutinous disposition, grew outrageous, and 
 even began to talk of throwing their commander over- 
 board. Their murmurs reached his ears ; but his 
 active mind was never at a loss for expedients, even 
 in the greatest extremity. He afiected to appear ig- 
 norant of their machinations, and notwithstanding the 
 agitation and solicitude of his own mind, he appear- 
 ed with a cheerful countenance, like a man satisfied 
 with the progress which he had made, and confident 
 of success. Sometimes he employed all the arts of 
 insinuation to soothe his men. Sometimes he endea- 
 voured to work upon their ambition or avarice, by 
 magnificent descriptions of the fame and wealth, 
 which they were about to acquire. On other occa- 
 sions, he assumed a tone of auihority, and threatened 
 them with vengeance from their sovereign^ if, by their 
 dastardly behaviour, they should defeat this noble ef- 
 fort to promote the glory of God, and to exalt the 
 Spanish name above that of any other nation. Even 
 with seditious sailors, the w^ords of a man, whom they 
 had been accustomed to reverence, were weighty 
 and [persuasive ; and not only restrained them from 
 Vol. II. No. 10, L 
 
^2 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 those violent excesses, which they meditated, but 
 prevailed with them to follow their admiral some time 
 ]onf;er. 
 
 As they proceeded, the indications of approaching 
 land seemed to be more certain. The birds began to 
 appear in flocks, making towards the South-west. 
 Columbus, in imitation of the Portuguese navigators, 
 who had been guided in several of their discoveries 
 by the motion of birds, altered his course from due 
 West, towards that quarter, whither they pointed their 
 flight. But after they had gone on for several days in 
 this direction, with no better success than formerly, 
 having seen no object during thirty days, but the sea 
 and the sky, the hopes of his companions subsided 
 faster than they had risen ; their fears revived with 
 redoubled force, and all sense of subordination was 
 finally lost. Even the otlicens, W'ho had hitherto con- 
 curred with Columbus in opinion, and supported his 
 authority, took part with the private men : they as- 
 sembled tumultuously on deck, expostulated with 
 their commander, and threatened him with death, if 
 he did not instantly tack about and return to Europe. 
 Columbus perceiving that it would be of no avail to 
 have recourse to any of his former arts, which having 
 been tried so often, had lost their effect, found it ne- 
 cessary to give w^ay to a torrent, w^hich he was no 
 longer able to oppose. He, therefore, solicited his 
 men to accompany him thrt^e days longer, solemnly 
 promising, that, if land were not discovered during 
 that time, he would abandon the enterprise, and di- 
 rect his course to Spain. 
 
 Impatient as the sailors were to return to tiieir na- 
 tive home, this proposition did not appear to them 
 unreasonable; nor did Columbus hazard much by 
 confining himself to so short a time, the presages of 
 discovering land being now so numerous, that he 
 deemed them infallible. For some days the sounding 
 line reached the bottom, and the soil which it brought 
 up indicated land to be at no great distance. The 
 
DICTIONARY. 83 
 
 flocks of birds encreased, and were composed not on- 
 ly of sea-fowl, but of such land birds, as could not 
 be supposed to fly far from tlie shore. The crew of 
 one of his vessels observed a cane floating, which 
 seemed to be newly cut ; whilst the sailors on board 
 of another took up the branch of a tree with red ber- 
 ries perfectly fresh. The clouds around the setting 
 sun assumed a new appearance, the air w^as more 
 mild and warm s and, during night, the wind be- 
 came unequal and variable. Fiom all these symp- 
 toms, Columbus was so confident or being near land, 
 that, on the evening of the J ] th October, he order- 
 ed the sails to be furled and the ships to lie by, lest 
 they should be driven ashore in the night. Nor was 
 he disappointed in his expectations; for, about two 
 hours before midnight, Columbus standing on tlie 
 forecastle, observed a light at a distance, which, he 
 likewise, pointed out to two of his friends, who all 
 three saw it in motion, as if it were carried about 
 from' place to place; and, about two oVloek next 
 morning, the joyful sound of Im/icI I Land I was 
 heard from the headmost ship. But having been so 
 often deceived by fallacious appearances, every one 
 was now become slow of belief, and waited with all 
 the anguish of uncertainty and impatience ibr the re- 
 turn of day. As soon as morning dawned, all doubts 
 and fears were dispelled. From every ship, an island 
 was seen about two leagues to the North, whose flat 
 and verdant fields presented the aspect of a delight- 
 ful country. 
 
 The sailors were now as extravagant in the praise 
 of their commander, as they had before been insolent, 
 in reviling and threatening him. They threvi^ them- 
 selves at his feet imploring his pardon and pronounc- 
 ed him to be a person inspired by heaven with saga- 
 city and fortitude more than human, in order to ac- 
 complish a design so far beyond the ideas and con- 
 ceptions of all former ages. 
 
84 KEV/ BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 As soon as the sun arose, all their boats were man- 
 ned and armed ; and they rowed towards the island 
 with warlike music and martial pomp. As they ap- 
 proached the coast, they saw it covered with a muUi- 
 tude of people, who, by their attitudes and gestures, 
 expressed the utmost astonishment at the strange ob- 
 jects, which presented themselves to their view. Co- 
 jumbus was the first European, who set foot in the 
 New World, which he liad discovered. His men fol- 
 lotved, and kneeling down, returned thanks to heaven 
 lor conducting their voyage to so happy an issue. 
 This island was one of the Bahama islands ; to which 
 he gave the name of San Salvador, and took posses- 
 sion of it, in the name of their Catholic majesties. 
 The natives considered the Spaniards as divinities, and 
 the discharge of their artillery as thunder. The 
 women, however, offered their favours, and courted 
 the embraces of their new guests as men. Their 
 husbands discovered no jealousy ; and in the arms of 
 those wantons, the companions of Columbus are said 
 to have caught that malady, which though at that 
 time unknown in Europe, has since been the usual 
 punishment of those, who practise illicit embraces. 
 
 He afterwards touched at several of the islands in 
 the samiC cluster, enquiring every where for gold, 
 which he thought was the only object of commerce 
 w^orth his attention. In steering southward, he dis- 
 covered the two large islands of Cuba and Hispaniola, 
 both inhabited by a humane and hospitable people, 
 and on the last of which he built a fort, and left 39 
 of his men. On his return home, he was overtaken 
 by a storm, which had nearly consigned his important 
 discovery to everlasting oblivion, in this awful crisis 
 Columbus gave an admirable proof of his calmness 
 and presence of mind. He wrote on parchment a 
 bhort account of his voyage, wrapped it up in a piece 
 of oil cioth, which he inclosed into a cake of wax, 
 put it into a light cask, and threw it into the sea, in 
 hopes that some fortunate accident might preserve a 
 
DICTIONARY. 85 
 
 deposit of so much importance to the world. Bat 
 this precaution proved fruitless, as he arrived at Port 
 Palos, from whence he had set out the year before, on 
 the 15th March 14-93, after an absence of seven 
 months and eleven days. 
 
 The account, which Columbus gave of his new dis- 
 coveries, the specimens of gold and other valuable 
 productions, and the sight of the natives, whom he 
 had carried with him from the West-Indies, could 
 not fail to ingratiate him highly with the court, who 
 conferred upon him, every possible mark of honour, 
 that could be suggested by gratitude, or admiration. 
 In particular, letters patent were issued confirming to 
 himself and his heirs, all the privileges contained in 
 the capitulation, which had been executed before his 
 departure, and his family were ennobled. 
 
 Nothing could possibly tend more effectually to 
 rouse every active principle in human nature, than 
 the discoveries, which Columbus had made. No 
 time was, therefore lost, nor <^xpcnce spared in pre- 
 paring a fleet of ships, wirh which this great man 
 should revisit the countries he had made known. 
 Seventeen ships were accordingly got ready in six 
 months, and fifteen hundred persons embarked 
 on board, among whom were many of noble, fami- 
 lies. These engaged in the enterprise, from an ex- 
 ■ pectation that the new discovered country was the 
 Ophir, mentioned in scripture, from which Solomon 
 obtained his gold and precious merchandize. 
 
 Columbus set sail from Cadiz, on his second voy- 
 age, Sept. 15th 1493 ; and arrived at Hispaniola, on 
 the 12th Nov. following, where he had the affliction 
 to find, that all the Spaniards, whom he had left there, 
 had been put to death by the natives, in revenge for 
 the insults and outrages they had committed. After 
 having established a new colony, in a more eligible 
 situation than the former, to which he gave the name 
 of Isabella, after his royal patroness, and appointed 
 liis brother Don Diego to preside as deputy-governor. 
 
86 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 in his absence, Columbus, on the 24th April 1494, 
 set saii to make farther discoveries on those seas. In 
 this voyage, he was employed five months, and fell in 
 with many small islands on the coast of Cuba, but 
 with nothing of any importance, except the island of 
 Jamaica. 
 
 Soon after his return to Hispaniola, Columbus had 
 a pitched engagement whh the Indians, who, accord- 
 ing to the Spanish historians, amounted to upwards 
 of 100,000 fighting men. These having experienced 
 every lawless act of violence from their invaders, 
 were rendered extremely inveterate, and thirsted for 
 revenge ; a disposition which appears to have been 
 foreign to their natures. For this unhappy situation 
 of allairs, it appears, that no great share of blame can 
 be attached to Colurribus -, for, whilst he was on the 
 spot, he kept his men under tolerable subjection, 
 and had been able in a great measure, to restrain 
 them from oppressing the natives : but, it being im- 
 possible for the inferior officers to keep them underthe 
 same degree of subordination, during his absence, 
 they acted as they thought proper, and had thus 
 brought matters to the present unfortunate crisis. 
 The truth, therefore, seems to be, that Columbus, 
 upon hii return, from his voyage to Cuba, found his 
 cx>lony actually engaged in a war, which, unless he 
 pursued the most prompt and vigorous measures, 
 must speedily terminate in its utter destruction. Hav- 
 ing, therefore, collected his full force, he attacked 
 the Indians by night, whilst they were assembled, in a 
 wid^plain, and obtained a most decisive victory, with- 
 out the loss of one man on his part. Ber.ides the effects 
 of cannon and fire arms, the noise of which was appal- 
 ing, and their effect against a numerous body of In- 
 dians closely drawn together, in the highest degree 
 destructive, Columbus had brought over with him a 
 small body of cavalry. The Indians, who had nevejr 
 before seen such a creature, imagined the Spanish hors- 
 es to be rational creatures, and that each with its 
 
DICTIONART. 87 
 
 rider formed but one animal ; they were astonished 
 at their speed, and considered their impetuosity and 
 strength as irresistible. In this onset, they had besides 
 another formidable enemy to terrify and destroy them ; 
 a great number of the lar^^est and fiercest species of 
 dogs, which were then bred in Europe, had been 
 brought hither, which, by pursuing the tlying Indians, 
 so affrightened them, as to prevent them from rallying. 
 All these circumstances combined to insure to the 
 Spaniards a complete victory. Numbers of the na- 
 tives were slain, and more made prisoners, who were 
 indiscriminately consigned to slavery. 
 
 When Columbus returned to Spain, from his se- 
 cond voyage, in June 1496, he found that his ene- 
 mies had been very active and successful in exciting, 
 in Ferdinand and Isabella, unfavourable sentiments 
 of his conduct ; but, by his presence at court, he 
 so far recovered his credit, that a squadron of six 
 ships were fitted out, with which he proceeded on a 
 third voyage, on the 30th of May, 1498. Taking a 
 more southern course, he discovered the island of 
 Trinidad, on the coast of Guinea, near the mouth of 
 the great river Oronoko. The swell occasioned by 
 this vast river pouring its waters into the ocean was so 
 great, as to expose the ships to extreme danger ; but 
 after long combating the currents and tremendous 
 waves, with doubtful success, he conducted his squad- 
 ron safe through a narrow strait, which separates that 
 island from the continent, and to which he gave the 
 name of " Bocca del Drago," or, The Dragon's 
 mouth. He justly concluded, that such a vast body 
 of water must flow through a country of immense ex- 
 tent, and that he was now arrived at that continent, 
 which it had so long been the object of his wishes to 
 discover. Full of that idea, he stood to the West, 
 along the coast of those provinces now known by the 
 names of Paria and Comana, where he landed in se- 
 veral places, and had some intercourse with the na- 
 tives. "Thus," says Dr, Robertson, "Columbus 
 
8S NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 had not only the glory of discovering to mankind the 
 existence of a new world, but made considerable 
 progress towards a perfect knowledge of it, and was 
 the first man who conducted the Spaniards to that 
 vast continent, which had been the chief seat of their 
 empire, and the source of their treasures in that quar- 
 ter of the globe." 
 
 He afterwards directed his course to Hispaniola, 
 where he arrived 30th August, 1498. AVorn out 
 with incessant solicitude and fatigue, he was now 
 hopeful, that he would enjoy some repose : but, in 
 this, he was cruelly disappointed. His colonists were 
 to the last degree refractory and unmanageable, so 
 that being obliged to exercise some severity towards 
 them, he became highly obnoxious to the most tur- 
 bulent, who determined, if possible, to make him a 
 sacrifice to their vengeance. Thus bent upon ^is 
 destruction, they transmitted to the court a number 
 of m.alicious and unfounded accusations against him; 
 and in particular, charged him with cruelty to indi- 
 viduals, aiming at independence, and engrossing the 
 tribute. They likewise insinuated, that being a 
 foreigner, he had no proper respect for the Spanish 
 nobility, that there was great reason to suspect him 
 of intentions to revolt to some other prince, and, that 
 with a view to accomplish this design, he had con- 
 cealed the real wealth of the colony, and prevented 
 the conversion of the Indians to the Catholic faith. 
 
 These insinuations prevailed on the jealousy of Fer- 
 dinand, and even staggered the constancy of Isabel- 
 la. Francis de Bovadilla, a man of noble rank, was, 
 therefore, appointed to repair to ITispaniola, with full 
 powers to enquire into the conduct of Columbus, and 
 with orders, that, in case he found him guilty of mal- 
 administration, he should supersede him, and assume 
 the office of governor of Hispaniola. This commis- 
 sion Bovadilla exercised in the most arbitrary and ty- 
 rannical manner; for, without having recourse, even 
 to the form of a judicial enquiry, he divested Colum- 
 
DICTIONARY, 89 
 
 bus of all authority, and loading him with irons, sent 
 him as a prisoner to Spain. 
 
 Although this violent conduct was not approved of 
 by the king and queen, w^ho, upon his arrival at Ca- 
 diz, November 5th 1500, endeavoured by outward 
 marks of attention and respect, to wipe off the ig- 
 nominy, which had been cast upon the discoverer of 
 America ; yet, instead of reinstating him in his go- 
 vernment, according to the original contract, they 
 only expressed their sorrow for the misbehaviour of 
 Bovadilla, and sent Ovando to supersede him, who, 
 however, as it appeared in the sequel, proved himself 
 to be no great friend to Columbus. On the whole, 
 the court seems to have had so little sincerity in the 
 friendly professions which they made towards this 
 great man, that it is highly probable he could never 
 have prevailed on them to assist him in the undertak- 
 ing of his fourth voyage, had not the Portuguese, at 
 that very time, effected a passage to the East Indies by 
 doubling the Cape of Good Hope ; and, as it had 
 ever been the firm belief of Columbus, that the most 
 direct way tbither, was by the route which he had 
 struck out, they could not, with any degree of pro- 
 priety, refuse him the means of ascertaining that import- 
 ant point. Four small vessels were, therefore, assigned 
 him for that purpose, carrying in all, one hundred and 
 forty men and boys, of which number, were his bro- 
 ther Bartholomew and his second son, Don Ferdinand, 
 who afterwards wrote his life. 
 
 He sailed from Cadiz, 4th May, 1502, but with- 
 out being invested with any authority in the country 
 which he had discovered. When he arrived at His- 
 paniola, he had the mortification to find, that Ovando 
 was so far from being inclined to assist him, that he 
 even refused to admit him into port. He, therefore, 
 soon quitted that island, and steering towards the con- 
 tinent, explored all the coast from Cape Gracias a 
 Dios, Southward, until he arrived at a harbour, which, 
 on account of its beauty and security, he called For- 
 Vol. II, No. 10. M 
 
90 NEW EIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 to Bello. Whilst thus coasting, he went ashore at 
 several places, and sometimes proceeded up the 
 country, but did not penetrate so far as to cross the 
 isthmus, which separates the Atlantic from the Paci- 
 ik ocean. It was his design to have settled a colony 
 to the West of Porto Bello; but this scheme was so 
 much disrellished by his people, that he could not 
 effect it, and was, therefore, deprived of tlie glory 
 of planting the fust colony on the continent of Ame- 
 rica. 
 
 On his return homeward, he met with tempestuous 
 weather of long continuance, by which his ships 
 were so shattered, that being no longer able to keep 
 them above water, he ran them -aground on the island 
 ot Jamaica. In this emergency, he procured from 
 the natives two of their largest canoes, in which he 
 dispatched some of his people to inform Ovando of 
 his misfortune, and to solicit his aid ; but the merci- 
 less wretch detained the messengers eight months 
 without an asiswer, and, in the mean time, left Co- 
 lumbus to suffer the severest hardship, from the dis- 
 content of his companions, and the want of provi- 
 sions. The natives had, at first, been very liberal ia 
 bringing in to their new guests a part of such food as 
 they had provided for themselves; but their long con- 
 tinuance amongst them having greatly exhausted their 
 store, they at last determined to grant them no far- 
 ther supplies. In this extremity, the fertile invention 
 of Columbus suggested an expedient, which proved 
 successful. Knowing that a total eclipse of the moon 
 was at hand, he sent for some of the principal In- 
 dians, and informed them, that the God, whom he 
 worshipped, was angry with them for denying him 
 provisions, and would punish them with pestilence 
 and famine ; as a proof of which, the moon would, 
 that very evening, be covered with blood. Some re- 
 ceived this intelligence with terror ; others with in- 
 difference : but when the eclipse appeared at the pre- 
 cise time he had predicted, they came in crowds 
 
DICTIONARY. ^\ 
 
 loaded with provisions, and begged him to intercede 
 with his God in their "behalf. Columbus, for some 
 time, retired to his cabin, and when the eclipse be- 
 gan to go off, came out and informed them, that God 
 had heard his prayers, and promised, that, if tliev 
 w^ouldj in future, supply him with provisions, he 
 would forgive them ; and that as a token, the moon 
 w^ould re-assume its usual appearance. They return- 
 ed him their thanks, and from that time, during his 
 stay on the island, there vras no more want of pro- 
 visions. 
 
 After having suffered innumerable hardships, chief- 
 ly from the neglect of Ovando, some of his people 
 were at last able to buy a small vessel at Hispaniola, 
 in which, when brought round to Jamaica, Columbus 
 and his men set sail : and after a lon^x and dlstressiuij: 
 voyage, in which the ship lost her masts, arrived at Sr. 
 Lucar, in Spain, in May 1505. 
 
 His patroness Isabella had been dead some time, 
 and with her had expired all the favour, which he 
 had ever enjoyed in the court of Ferdinand. Dis- 
 gusted with the ingratitude of a monarch, whom he 
 had served v^^ith so much fidelity and success, a!id 
 worn out with fatigue, he ended his active and useful 
 life, at Valladolid, on the 20th May 1506, in the 
 59th year of his age. lie died with a composure of 
 mind suited to the magnanimity which distinguished 
 his character, and with sentim.ents of piety becoming 
 the sincere respect for religion, which he manifested 
 in every occurrence of his life. He was c^rave, thou'^h 
 courteous in his deportment, circumspect in his words 
 and actions, irreproachable in his morals, and exem- 
 plary in his religious duties. The king was so just 
 to his memory, notwithstanding his ingratitude, du- 
 ting his life, that he buried him magnificently, in the 
 Cathedral of Seville, and erected a tomb over him 
 with this inscription: 
 
D2 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 A C as I ill a, ya Leon^ 
 Ntievo Mundo dio Colon, 
 
 Translated thus : — 
 To Castile and Leon 
 Columbus gave a New World. 
 
 CONDORCET, (Caritat De) so much cek* 
 brated in the annals of the French revolution, was de- 
 scended from a noble family, and born at Avignon in 
 France, about the year 1750. There he received a 
 good education, and applied himself, particularly to 
 the study of mathematics and the belles lettres. 
 
 He was early in life introduced to Voltaire and D* 
 Alembert, and from them imbibed those principles of 
 scepticism, which at last, as is said, degenerated 
 even to perfect atheism. Under these principles, he 
 formed his mind, and endeavoured to cultivate a si- 
 milarity of taste. 
 
 Condorcet was assiduous and even servile in his at- 
 tention to the great, and by their favour, was, in 1791, 
 nominated perpetual secretary of the academy of sci- 
 ences, at Paris. His principal claim to literary repu- 
 tation arises from a life of Voltaire, which accompa- 
 nied a compleat edition of his works. He also wrote 
 some tracts, which are now little known, and which 
 conveyed his favourite principles of infidelity. 
 
 Condorcet, by being an active member of most of 
 those societies, which had been formed in France, for 
 the ostensible purpose of diffusing political know- 
 ledge, was at the beginning of the revolution, a very 
 popular character, and accordingly, at that period, 
 commenced editor of a newspaper, called Le Chro- 
 vAqiie de Paris, which, perhaps, as much as any other 
 publication of the times, tended to overthrow the 
 French monarchy and to bring about the new order 
 of things. 
 
 Condorcet was a member of the Jacobin Club,but 
 his eloquence was not calculated to assist the cause 
 
DICTIONARY. 93 
 
 he espoused, by speaking so much as by writing. 
 His voice was shrill and squeaking, and his timidity 
 was so great, that his votes often counteracted the 
 effects of his arguments, owing to the fear of the 
 galleries. 
 
 At the period of the king's flight to Varennes, 
 Condorcet was one of the projectors of, and a prin- 
 cipal contributor to the paper called he llepuhlknn. 
 His wife, at the same time, was engaged in rransla- 
 ting into French, the essays written by Thomas 
 Paine. 
 
 At the dissolution of the constituent assembly, 
 Condorcet was elected deputy for Paris, lie follow- 
 ed the political career of Brissot, and was also an ar- 
 dent adversary of the emigrants, against whom he 
 called forth severe degrees, and made several violent 
 harangues. 
 
 He was still distinguished by his atheistical princi])les, 
 and declared in the assembly, that the eliicacy of an 
 oath was totally independent of the belief of a God. 
 He was also a strenuous promoter of all the severe 
 and violent measures against the clergy. 
 
 Notwithstanding his atheism, the National Assem- 
 bly appointed him a member of tlie committee of 
 public instruction. To this subject he applied with 
 great attention, and presented to the legislature, the 
 report of a plan for forming the minds of the rising 
 generation, the expence of which was estimated at 
 524,000,000 of livrej (4,662,000 dollars). The pro- 
 ject was received, but never put into execution. 
 
 Condorcet drew up the famous manifesto published 
 by the French nation to all the powers of Europe, on 
 the approach of war. This paper was received with 
 the loudest applause, ordered to be printed, trans- 
 mitted to the executive power for the purpose of 
 communicating it to foreign nations, sent to the eighty 
 three departments, to all the regiments of the line 
 and national battalions, and translated into ail lan- 
 guages. 
 
^4 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 After the dreadful events of the 10th of August 
 
 1792, Condorcet assiduously united his endeavours 
 with the other chiefs of the republicans, in bringing 
 about a total subversion of the French monarchy, and 
 in effecting the new system of government. With 
 this view he wrote his Reflections, in which he endea- 
 voured to assimilate the revolution, which took place 
 in England in 1688, tothat, which had been effected 
 in France in 1792. He also drew up an exposition 
 of the motives, by which the assembly had acted. 
 
 Upon the meeting of the first convention, Condor- 
 cet was appointed vice-president, and was one of the 
 committee appointed to revise the constitution. In 
 this arduous undertaking, so much reliance was pla- 
 ced on his abilities and judgment, that the committee 
 permitted him to assume the principal merit of the 
 work. His production was submitted to the conven- 
 tion, where the constitutional act obtained feeble ap- 
 probation, but the Jacobins pronounced it detestable. 
 
 During the contest between the Moimtain and the 
 Brissotines, Condorcet maintained a cautious silence, 
 having scarcely spoke in the convention for eight 
 months. He seems, likewise, to have been singu- 
 larly wary, in not risking an opinion on any party 
 question. Yet, though he could conquer every sen- 
 timent of friendship, and stifle every indignant sensa- 
 tion, at the destruction of his party, his vanity as an 
 author propelled him to a fatal exertion : for, when 
 the constitution, commonly called the constitution of 
 
 1793, had been accepted, he published An Address 
 io all French citizens, reprobating the extreme rapi- 
 dity and want of consideration, with which it had 
 been framed and accepted 3 and detailing the nume- 
 rous acts of violence, by which the prevailing party 
 had established their influence. This rash act placed 
 him in the power of the Mountain, and Chabot moved 
 for a decree of accusation against him, which v^^as 
 iminediately granted. 
 
DICTIONARY.^ 9^ 
 
 He escaped from the arrest, and concealed himself 
 nine months in the house of a woman in Paris. At 
 length, however, a domiciliary visit was threatened, 
 and he was obliged to quit his asylum. He had the 
 good fortune, though unprovided with a passport, to 
 escape through the barrier, and went to the house of a 
 friend at Mount Rouge. Unfortunately, this gentle- 
 man was at Paris, from which he was not expected 
 to return in less than three days, during which time 
 our fugitive was obliged to wander about exposed to 
 cold, hunger, fatigue and also the most dreadful sus- 
 pence. At length his friend returned and found him : 
 but considering it dangerous to take him into his house 
 in the day time, requested him to wait till night, 
 when he would receive and conceal him. Condor- 
 cet, on the day his friend had fixed as the end of his 
 miseries, forgot the dictates of prudence : for having 
 asked for some refreshment at an inn, his dirty cap, 
 torn clothes, leanness and voracity excited the suspi- 
 cions of some persons present, one of whom being a 
 municipal officer committed him to a dungeon for* 
 that night, ivhere he was found dead next morning. 
 He always carried a dose of poison about with him, 
 and with this he had put a period to his mortal exist- 
 ence, to avoid a trial before the revolutionary tribunal. 
 
 From Condorcet's character, as emphatically des- 
 cribed by Madame Roland, we shall select a few 
 sentences. " The genius of Condorcet," says she, 
 " is equal to the comprehension of the greatest 
 truths, but he has no other characteristic besides 
 fear." She concludes thus, " the properest place for 
 liim was the secretary-ship of the academy. Such 
 men should be employed to write, but never to act : 
 it is a happiness to be able to draw ^some utility 
 from them : even that is not to be done with all timid 
 persons : in general they are good for nothing." It 
 was during his seclusion in Paris, that Condorcet 
 wrote his famous sketch of " TJie Progress of the 
 Human Mind^" to which even his enemy Barueil al- 
 
96 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 lows the inerlt of correct composition. The object 
 of this work, is to enforce a belief of the perfectabi- 
 Jity of man, and the author carried this chimerical 
 delusion so far, as to assert, that longevity and every 
 desirable personal quality were attainable. The end 
 of Condorcet himself, forms a respectable refutation 
 of his absurd doctrine : for although he had so recent- 
 ly philosophized on the subject, and might be sup- 
 posed thoroughly imbued with the principles he was 
 desirous to enforce, he threw away his life by want- 
 ing strength to resist the importunities of hunger for 
 a few hours. 
 
 CONFUCIUS, the celebrated Chinese philosopher, 
 ^vas born in the province of Xantung, about 551 years 
 before the birth of Christ. He did not grow in 
 knowledge by degrees, as children generally do, but 
 seemed to arrive at the perfect use of his faculties, 
 almost from his infancy. He took no delight in play, 
 nor in those amusements, which are usual, with chil- 
 dren of his age, but had a grave and serious deport- 
 ment, which gained him universal respect, and seem- 
 ed to foretel his future greatness. But what distin- 
 guished him most, w^as his exalted piety. He ho- 
 noured his relations ; he endeavoured in all things to 
 imitate his grandfather, who was then alive and repu- 
 ted a most holy man, and never ate any thing without 
 first prostrating himself upon the ground and offering 
 thanks to the supreme giver of all good. 
 
 After the death of his grandfather, Confucius ap- 
 plied himself to Teem-se, a celebrated doctor of his 
 time, under whose direction, he soon made a vast 
 progress into antiquity, which he considered as the 
 source, from whence all genuine ki^owledge was to 
 be drawn. As a proof of hh sentiments upon this 
 subject, we may mention, that when he was only 
 sixteen years of age, he expressed himself in the 
 following remarkable words, to a mandarine, who 
 
DICTIONARY. 97 
 
 was speaking disrespectfully of the Chinese books, 
 on account of their obscurity — " The books you 
 despise," says he, " are full of profound knowledge, 
 which is not to be attained, but by the wise and 
 learned ; and the people would think cheaply of 
 them, could they comprehend them of themselves. 
 This subordination of spirits, by which the ignorant 
 are dependant on the knowing, is very useful, and 
 even necessary in society. Were all families equally 
 rich, and equally powerful, there could not subsist any 
 form of government ; but there would happen a yet 
 stranger disorder, if all men were equally knowing ; 
 viz. every one would be for governing, and none 
 would think themselves obliged to obey." 
 
 At the age of 23, having made great progress, 
 both in morals and politics, he began to project a 
 scheme for a general reformation. All the little 
 kingdom^ of China depended upon the emperor ; but 
 then every province was a distinct kingdom, which 
 had its peculiar laws, and was governed by a prince 
 of its town. Hence it often happened, that the im- 
 perial authority was not sufficient to keep them withia 
 the bounds of their duty and allegiance, but especi- 
 ally at a time, when luxury, the love of pleasure, and 
 a general dissolution of manners, prevailed in all those 
 little courts. 
 
 Confucius, persuaded, that no people could ever be 
 happy, amongst whom avarice, ambition and volup- 
 tuousness are predominant, resolved to preach up a 
 severe morality amongst his 'countrymen ; and accor- 
 dingly endeavoured to prevail upon them to contemn 
 riches and worldy pleasures, and to esteem temper- 
 ance, justice, and the other virtues. He also strove 
 to inspire them with such magnanimity as to be proof 
 against the frowns of princes, and with a sincerity 
 incapable of the least disguise. His extensive know- 
 ledge and the splendour of his virtues, made him uni- 
 versally known and beloved. Kings were governed 
 by his counsels, and the people reverenced him as a 
 
 Vol. II. No. 10, N 
 
9Z NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 saint. He was offered several high offices in the ma- 
 gistracy, which he sometimes accepted, never from 
 motives of ambition, but from a desire of reforming 
 a corrupt state ; and as soon as he found, that he could 
 be no longer useful in office, he never failed to resign. 
 Thus for instance, he was raised to a considerable 
 place of trust, in the kingdom of Lou, where he had 
 not exercised his charge above three months, when 
 by his councils and management, a great reformation 
 was wrought both in the court and provinces. He 
 corrected many frauds and abuses in the way of trade; 
 he inpulcated candour and fidelity amongst the men, 
 and exhorted the women to chastity and a simplicity 
 of manners. 
 
 By such methods, he every where established such 
 concord and unanimity, that the whole kingdom 
 seemed united like one great family. 
 
 The neighbouring princes began to be jealous. 
 They easily perceived, that a king, under the councils 
 of such a man as Confucius, would quickly render 
 himself too powerful ; since nothing can make a state 
 flourish more than good order among the members, 
 and an exact observance of its laws. Alarmed at 
 this, one of the neighbouring kings assembled his mi- 
 nisters to consider of the most effectual methods of 
 putting a stop to the career of this new government. 
 They collected together a great number of young 
 girls, of extraordinary beauty, who were perfect mis- 
 tresses of all those charms and accomplishments, 
 which might please and captivate the heart ; and 
 these, under the pretext of an embassy, they present- 
 ed to the king of Lou and to the grandees of his 
 court. The present was joyfully received, and had 
 its desired effect. The arts of good government were 
 immediately neglected, nothing was thought of, but 
 inventing new pleasures tor the entertainment of the 
 fair strangers, and the court was entirely dissolved in 
 sensuality and pleasure. Confucius had foreseen all 
 this, and endeavoured to prevent it, by advising the 
 
DICTIONARY, 99 
 
 refusal of the present ; and he now laboured to take 
 off the delusion they were fallen into, and to bring 
 them back to reason. But all his endeavours proved 
 ineffectual ; and the severity of the philosopher was 
 obliged to give way to the overbearing fashion of the 
 court. Upon which he immediately relinquished his 
 employment, exiling himself, at the same time, from 
 his native country, to try if he could find in other 
 kingdoms, minds and dispositions more fit to relish 
 and pursue his maxims. 
 
 He passed through several of the kingdoms of the 
 East, but every where met with insurmountable dif- 
 ficulties. He had the misfortune to live in turbulent 
 times, when men had but little leisure, and far less 
 inclination to listen to his philosophy. Hence he of- 
 ten met with ill treatment and reproachful language, 
 and was sometimes reduced to such extremities, that he 
 was in danger of perishing by hunger. Some philo- 
 sophers amongst his cotemporaries, were so affected 
 with this terrible state of things, that they retired into 
 the mountains and desarts, as the only places where 
 happiness could be found ; and would have persuad- 
 ed Confucius to follow their example. But, " I am a 
 man," says he, " and cannot exclude myself from the 
 society of men, and consort with beasts. Bad as the 
 times are, I shall do all I can to recall men to virtue : 
 for in virtue are all things, and if mankind would but 
 once embrace it, and submit themselves to its disci- 
 pline and laws, they would not want me, or any body 
 else to instruct them. Human nature came to us 
 from heaven pure and perfect ; but, in process of 
 time, ignorance, the passions and evil examples have 
 corrupted it. All consists in restoring it to its primi- 
 tive beauty; and, to be perfect, we must re-ascend 
 to that point from which we have fallen. Obey heaven, 
 and tollow the orders of him who governs it. Love 
 your neighbour as yourself. Let your reason, and 
 not your senses, be the rule of your conduct j for rea- 
 
ICO NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 son will teach you to think wisely, to speak prudent- 
 ly and to behave yourself worthily upon all occasions." 
 
 But notvv'ithstanding the opposition, which Confu- 
 cius met wilh, in the propagation of his doctrine, he 
 was at last able, by his unremitting exertions, to pro- 
 selyte great numbers, who were unviolably attached 
 to his person. He is said to have had, at least, three 
 thousand disciples, seventy-two of whcm were distin- 
 guished above the rest by their superior attainments, 
 and ten above them all, by their comprehensive view 
 and perfect knowledge of his whole philosophy and 
 doctrines. 
 
 He sent six hundred of his disciples into different 
 parts of the empire, to reform the manners of the peo- 
 ple ; and not satisfied with benefiting his own country 
 only, he made frequent resolutions to pass the seas, 
 and propagate his doctrine to the farthest parts of the 
 w^orld. On the whole, he seems to have carried the 
 religion of nature as far as unassisted reason could 
 possibly reach. Indeed, when we consider the purity 
 of his morality, he seems rather to speak like a teach- 
 er of a revealed law, than like a man, who had no 
 light, but the law of nature ; and what convinces us 
 of his sincerity is, that he taught as forcibly by exam- 
 ple, as by precept. In short, his gravity and sobriety, 
 his vigorous abstinence, his contempt of riches, and 
 what are com.monly called the goods of this life, his 
 continual attention and watchfulness over his actions, 
 and above all, his uncommon modesty and humility 
 would almost tempt one to believe, that he was 
 not a mere philosopher by reason only, but a man in- 
 spired by God, for the reformation of the world, and 
 to check that torrent of idolatry and superstition, 
 which was going to overspread that particular part 
 of it. 
 
 He died in his 73d year, lamented by the whole 
 empire, who, from that very moment, revered him 
 as a messenger sent from heaven to instruct mankind, 
 and established such a veneration for his memory, as 
 
DICTIONARY. 101 
 
 will probably last for ever in those parts of the world. 
 Kings have built palaces for him in all the provinces, 
 whither the learned go at certain times to pay him 
 homage. Each tov/n has a palace consecrated to his 
 memory, and near the city Kis-fou, on the banks of 
 the river Su, where he w^as wont to assemble his dis- 
 ciples, they built his sepulchre, and have since enclos- 
 ed it with walls, which look like a small city to this 
 very day. 
 
 Confucius did not trust altogether to the memory 
 of his disciples for the preservation of his philosophy, 
 but composed several books, which are still held in 
 high estimation by the learned in China 3 and though 
 these books were greatly admired for the doctrines 
 they contained, and the fine principles of morality they 
 taught, yet such was his unparalleled modesty, that he 
 never assumed the least honour on their account. 
 He ingenuously confessed, that the doctrine, which 
 he taught was not his own ; and that he had done no 
 more than to collect it, from the writings of those wise 
 legislators, who had lived 1500 years before him. 
 The", who would wish to have a jjerfect knowledge 
 of the writings of Confucius, will find it in the Latin 
 translation of Father Noel, one of the most ancient 
 missionaries of China, which was printed at Prague, 
 in the year 1711. 
 
 We must not conclude our account of this celebrat- 
 ed philosopher, without mentioning one most remark- 
 able particular respecting him, viz. that, in spite of 
 all his endeavours to establish pure morality and re- 
 hgion, he was nevertheless the innocent cause of their 
 corruption. It is said, that when he was compli- 
 mented upon the excellence of his philosophy, he 
 modestly replied, " that he fell greatly short of the 
 most perfect degree of virtue ; but that in the West 
 the most Holy was to be found." Most of the mis- 
 sionaries, who relate this, are firmly persuaded, that 
 Confucius foresaw the coming of the Messiah, and 
 
102 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 meant to predict it in this short sentence. At all 
 events, it has always made a verv strong impression 
 upon the learned in China ; and, in the 66th year af- 
 ter the birth of Christ, the emperor Monti sent am- 
 bassadors to the West, with orders to sail till they had 
 found this Holy one, and to bring back at least his 
 image and his writings. Tha persons sent upon this 
 expedition, not daring to venture farther, went ashore 
 upon a little island, not f^ir from the Red Sea, where 
 they found the statue of Fohi, who had infected the 
 Indies with his doctrines, five hundred years before 
 the birth of Confucius. This they carried back to 
 China, together with the metempsychosis, and the 
 other reveries of this philosopher. The disciples of 
 Confucius, at first, opposed these newly imported 
 doctrines with all the vigour imaginable, inveighing 
 vehemently against Monti, who introduced them, 
 and denouncing the judgment of heaven on such 
 emperors as should support them. But all their en- 
 deavours were vain ; the torrent bore hard against 
 them, and the pure religion and sound morality of 
 Confucius were not only corrupted, but, in a man- 
 ner, overwhelmed by the prevailing idolatries and su- 
 perstitions, which were introduced by the idol Fohi. 
 This is now the religion of the learned in China, who, 
 while they pay homage to the memory of Confucius, 
 are far from follov\Mng his precepts, or imitating the 
 innocence and sanctity of his life. They, however, 
 annually celebrate a festival to his honour ; and his 
 posterity, even to the present day, are mandarins by 
 birth, and have a privilege, in common with the prin- 
 ces of the blood, not to pay tribute. 
 
 COOK, (Captain- James) one of the most ce- I 
 lebrated navigators, whom the world ever produced, 1 
 was born at Marton, a village about four miles from 
 Great Ayton, in Yorkshire, England, October 27th, 
 1728. His father, who was only a day labourer, had 
 
DICTIONARY. 103 
 
 nine children ; from which, it may be easily conceiv- 
 ed, that his circumstances were extremelyindigent. 
 
 To the charity of Mr. Skottow, his father's em- 
 ployer, James was indebted for his school education, 
 which extended no farther than reading, writing and 
 a few of the first rules of arithmetic. At the age of 
 thirteen, he was bound apprentice to a shop-keeper, 
 at Snaith, about ten miles from Whitby ; but after a 
 servitude of a few years, having contracted a very 
 strong propensity to the sea, his master was willing 
 to indulge him in following the bent of his inclination, 
 and gave him up his indentures. In July, 1-746, he 
 bound himself as an apprentice to Messrs. Walkers, 
 of Whitby, who had several vessels in the coal trade; 
 and, after serving a few years longer, in the situation 
 of a common sailor, he was at last raised to be mate 
 of one of their ships. 
 
 Early in the year 1755, when hostilities broke out 
 between France and England, Cook entered on board 
 the Eagle of sixty guns, to which vessel. Sir Hugh 
 Palliser was soon after appointed, who soon distin- 
 guished him as an active and diligent seaman. His 
 good behaviour, however, whilst in the coal trade, 
 tended greatly to accelerate his promotion in the roy- 
 al navy, as the Messrs. Walkers, his former employ- 
 ers, procured from influential persons, some letters of 
 recommendation, which did him great service. On 
 the 15th of May, 1759, he obtained a master's war- 
 rant for the Mercury, which was soon after employed 
 in the faraous siege of Quebec. During this siege, 
 a difficult and dangerous service was assigned him : 
 viz. to take soundings in the channel of the river St. 
 Lawrence, directly in front of the French fortified 
 camp. This he performed at the very imminent haz- 
 ard of his life, with which, indeed, he very narrow- 
 ly escaped. 
 
 On the 22d September following, he was appoint- 
 ed master of the Northumberland, then stationed at 
 Halifax, where he first read Euclid, and applied to 
 
10^ NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 astronomy and other branches of science. Early in 
 1763, when admiral (then captain Greaves) was ap- 
 pointed governor of Newfoundland, Mr. Cook went 
 with him to survey the coasts of that island. At the 
 end of the season, he returned to England ; but in 
 the beginning of 1764, Sir Hugh Palliser being ap- 
 pointed governor of Newfoundland and Labradore, 
 Air. Cook accompanied him, as surveyor, and con- 
 tinued in that capacity till J 767. 
 
 AVhilstMr. Cook remained on that station, he had 
 an opportunity of exhibiting publickly a specimen of 
 his progress in the study of astronomy, by a short pa- 
 per printed in the 57 th vol. of the Philosophical Trans- 
 actions, entitled " An observation of an eclipse of 
 the Sun, at the island of Newfoundland, August 5th, 
 1766, with the longitude of the place of observation 
 deduced from it." Some of the most learned men in 
 England compared Mr. Cook's observation with one 
 made at Oxford, and found it accurately done ; from 
 which time, he obtained the character of an able 
 astronomer. 
 
 In the mean lime, a spirit for geograpliical disco- 
 veries, which had gradually declined since the begin- 
 ning of the 17th century, began to discover itself 
 anew in Great Britain. Two voyages of this kind 
 had been performed in the rei^n of George II. with 
 a view to discover a North West passage through 
 Hudson's bay to the East Indies. Two others under 
 captains Byron, WalJis and Carteret, had been under- 
 taken soon after the conclusion of the peace in 1763, 
 by order of his present majesty ; and before the re- 
 turn of these navigators, who were ordered to sail 
 round the w^orld, another voyage was resolved on for 
 astronomical purposes. It having been calculated, 
 that a transit of Venus over the Sun's disk would hap- 
 pen in 1769, a memorial was presented to the king 
 by the Royal Society ; in which they set forth the 
 great importance of making proper observations on 
 this phenomenon, the regard, that had been paid to 
 
 I 
 
DICTIONARY. 105 
 
 k(, by the different courts of Europe, and intreated^ 
 amongst other things, that a vessel might be fitted 
 out, at the expence of government, for conveying pro- 
 per persons to some of the Friendly Islands, in order 
 to make the necessary observations. To this memo- 
 rial, a favourable answer was returned, and the En- 
 deavour, a ship built for the coal trade, was put jrt 
 commission, and the command of her given to Mr. 
 Cook, who was, upon this occasion, promoted to the 
 rank of a lieutenant in his majesty's service. J3ut be- 
 fore the vessel was ready to sail, captain AVallis return- 
 ed from his voyage, and pointed out Otaheite as a 
 place more proper for the purpose of the expedition, 
 than that mentioned by the Royal Society. This al- 
 teration being approved of, directions for the purpose, 
 were, accordingly, given to Mr. Cook, with whom 
 Mr. Charles Green, who had been assistant to Dr. 
 Bradley, in the Royal Observatory, at Greenwich, 
 was joined, in the astronomical part. In this voyage, 
 he was likewise accompanied by Sir Joseph Banks, 
 Dr. Solander, &c. On the 30th July, 1768, he set 
 sail on his expedition; and on the 13th April, i769, 
 arrived at Otaheite ; where, on the third of June, the 
 transit of Venus was observed in different parts of the 
 island. 
 
 To give the reader some idea of that exact regard 
 to the rules of justice and humanity, for which cap- 
 tain Cook was so justly celebrated, in his behaviour 
 towards the savage nations he occasionally met with, 
 we shall only take notice of the following rules, which 
 he drew up for his ship's company, on his first arrival 
 at Otaheite, and which he took care to have punctu- 
 ally obeyed. 1st. That they should endeavour by 
 every fair means, to cultivate a friendship with the 
 natives, and to treat them with all imaginable huma- 
 nity. 2d. That proper persons should be appointed 
 to treat with the natives for provisions, &c.and that no 
 other person belonging to the ship, should do so with- 
 out leave. Although the repeated thefts of the na- 
 
 Vol. II. No. 10. O 
 
lot) NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 tives, required all the wisdom ?.nd moderation of cap* 
 tain Cook, to conduct himself in a proper manner, 
 yet they appeared, in general, to be friendly in their 
 dispositions, and very ready to supply the ship with 
 necessaries, in exchange for such things as they want- 
 ed, particularly for large nails, spikes, axes, looking- 
 glasses and beads. At last, after a stay of three 
 months, when preparing to take his leave, the most 
 disagreeable adventure took place, which he had hi- 
 therto met with. This was the desertion of two of 
 his people, who having married young women of the 
 country, determined to take up their residence in it. 
 !Mr. Cook was now obliged to seize some of their 
 chiefs, and to inform them, that they could not obtain 
 their liberty, until the deserters were recovered. This 
 at last produced the desired effect, and on the 13th 
 ot July, 1769, Mr. Cook set sail, along with Tupia, 
 who had formerly been the prime minister to Oberea 
 a princess of that island, and a boy of 13 years of 
 age, both of whom were desirous of accompanying 
 him to England. 
 
 ^Vhen Air Cook proceeded to visit others of the 
 South Sea islands, Tupia occasionally served as an 
 interpreter. On his arrival in New Zealand, he found 
 the natives extremely hostile. At their very first 
 meeting, one of them having threatened to dart his 
 lance into the boat, was shot dead : Another, having 
 carried off a hanger, belonging to one of the officers, 
 was fired at with sm.all shot, and upon his still refus- 
 ing to restore it, was fired at with ball and killed. 
 This, however, produced little effect upon the rest, 
 who offered to make an attack upon them, till several 
 muskets were fired with small shot, which wounded 
 three or four more. Next day, the commander hav- 
 ing determined to force some of the natives on board, 
 in order to conciliate their affections, by kind treat- 
 ment, directed his men to follow two canoes, which 
 he perceived under way before him. One made her 
 escape, but the other, not observing the boats in pur- 
 
DICTIONARY. 107 
 
 suit, was overtaken. Tupia, whose language the 
 New Zealanders understood, called on them to re- 
 turn, with assurances that no hurt should be done 
 them ; but they continued their flight without mind- 
 ing him. A musket was then fired over their heads, 
 with a view to intimidate them ; but upon this, they 
 began so vigorous an attack upon the people in th>^ 
 boats, that orders were given to fire with ball, by 
 which four out of seven, who were in the canoe, 
 were killed, and theother three jumped into the water, 
 and were taken on board. 
 
 This part of Mr. Cook's conduct seems inconsist- 
 ent with that humanity, for which he was in general 
 so eminently distinguished. He was aware of the 
 censure, and makes the following apology: " I'hese 
 people certainly did not deserve death for not choos- 
 ing to confide in my promises, or not consenting to 
 come on board my boat, even if they had apprehend- 
 ed no danger; but the nature of my service required 
 me to obtain a knowledge of their country, which 1 
 could no otherwise obtain but by forcing into it in a 
 hostile manner, or gaining admission through the con- 
 fidence and good will of the people. I had already 
 tried the power of presents without effect ; and 1 was 
 now prompted by my desire to avoid farther hostilities, 
 to attempt to get some of them on board, the only 
 method we had left of convincing them, that we in- 
 tended them no harm, and had it in our power to 
 contribute to their gratification and convenience. 
 Thus far my intentions certainly were not criminal ; 
 and, though in the contest which I had not the least 
 reason to expect, our victory might have been com- 
 plete, without so much expence of life, yet, in such 
 situations, when the command to fire has been oncct 
 given, no man can pretend to refrain its excess, or 
 prescribe its effect." 
 
 Notwithstanding the disaster just mentioned, to 
 which the three New Zealanders, who were taken on 
 board,had been witnesses, they were soon conciliated ; 
 
108 HEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 but no kindness, which could be shewn them, was, 
 in any degree, effectual to bnng about a reconcilia- 
 tion with the rest. On the contrary, they, from that 
 time, seem to have manifested a more hostile beha- 
 viour than formerly ; in consequence of which, ac- 
 cording to Dr. Hawkesworth^s account of this voyage, 
 a considerable number of them perished. On these 
 melancholy occasions, however, it is to be remarked, 
 to the honour of captain Cook, that his humanity was 
 eminently conspicuous, beyond that of the common 
 people, who uniformly shewed as much inclination to 
 destroy the Indians, as a sportsman does to kill the 
 game he pursues. 
 
 Mr. Cook having spent six months in circumnavi- 
 gating and fully exploring the islands of New-Zealand, | 
 dnring which time he was often in the most imminent 
 danger of being shipwrecked, proceeded from thence 
 towards New-Holland, on the 31st March, 1770, and 
 came in sight of Botany-Bay on the 28lh April, fol- 
 lowing. 
 
 The dangers they sustained in navigating round the 
 coast of Ntvv-Holland were innumerable, insomuch, 
 that for nearly three months, they were obliged to 
 have a man constantly in the chains, heaving the 
 lead. They were always entangled among rocks and 
 shoals, which could not have failed to destroy a less 
 experienced navigator ; and even Mr. Cook, with 
 all his sagacity, could not sometimes have extricated 
 himself, had it not been for the favourable interposi- 
 tion of Divine Providence, at some particular emer- - 
 gencies, which human penetration could neither have 
 foreseen nor prevented. Of this we shall only give 
 the following instance : — Having, at last, as they 
 thought, got saiely over the vast reefs of sunk rocks, 
 with which the coast of New-Holland is surrounded, 
 they flattered themselves that all danger was past. 
 The remembrance, however, of former dangers, in- 
 duced them frequently to take the precaution of sound- 
 4iigj notwithstanding which, in the latitude of 14 l''4 
 
DICTIONARY. 109 
 
 deg, S. they found themselves, one morning, only 
 about a mile distant from the most hideous breakers, 
 though the sea all around was unfathomable. Their 
 situation was rendered the more dreadful by its being 
 a dead calm, whilst, at the same time, ihey were"" 
 carried toward the rock with such rapidity, that, by 
 the time they had got the ship's head turned, by means 
 of the boats, she was scarcely an hundred yards dis- 
 tant from it. Their only resource, then, was to tow 
 the ship, iF possible, out of a situation so inexpressi- 
 bly dreadful ; but all their efforts would have been un- 
 successful, had not a breeze sprung up, which, tlio' 
 too light to have been observed at any other time, was 
 found to second their efforts so effectually, that ih.e 
 bhip began to move perceptibly from the reef in an 
 oblique direction. During the time which this breeze 
 lasted, which was not more tiian ten minutes, they 
 had made a considerable way ; but a dead calm suc- 
 ceeding, they began to lose ground, and, in a little 
 time, were driven within two hundred yards of the 
 rocks : a small openmg was now perceived in the 
 reef, to which the ship was directed by every possible 
 means, and a light breeze happening to spring up at 
 that very instant, they were hurried through by Tne 
 rapility of the current, which, had it not been for 
 th:.> opening, would undoubtedly have dashed them 
 to pieces against the rocks. 
 
 From the time they quitted the coast of New- Hol- 
 land, till their arrival at Batavia, on the iOtli Octo- 
 ber, 1770, our navigators met with nothing very re- 
 markable. They were obliged to stay for bOiiiC lime 
 at this place to repair their vessel, wliich was almost 
 reduced to a mere wreck ; during whieh tin.e, they 
 were, likewise, excessively annoyed by siekness, 
 w^hich obliged them to remain much longer than ihey 
 would otherwise have done : and it is woiihy of notice, 
 that every one of the crew was ill, excepting the saii- 
 maker, an old man between seventy and eighly years 
 of age, who regularly got drunk every ni^ht, Poor 
 
no NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 Tupla, with his boy, fell sacrifices to the unhealthi* 
 ness of the climate, as well as the surgeon, three 
 seamen and Mr. Green's servant. Nor did the evil 
 stop here, for in their passage to the Cape of Good 
 Hope, they lost no less than twenty seamen, and pas- 
 sengers, amongst whom was the jolly old sail-maker, 
 w^ho could now hold out no longer. These unfortu- 
 nate events probably made a considerable impression 
 on Mr Cook's mind ; and, perhaps, induced him to 
 direct his attention to those methods of preserving the 
 health of seamen, which he afterwards put in execu- 
 tion with so much success. After touching at St. 
 Helena, they continued their voyage for England, 
 where they arrived on the 12th June, 1771, after hav- 
 ing been absent almost three years, during which 
 time, he experienced every danger to which a voyage 
 of such a length is incident, and in which he made 
 discoveries equal to those of all the navigators of 
 Europe, from the time of Columbus to the present 
 day. On this occasion, his majesty testified his ap- 
 probation of Mr. Cook's conduct, by immediately ap- 
 pointing him a captain in the navy. 
 
 Captain Cook was not allowed to remain long in- 
 active. The existence of a Southern continent in the 
 unexplored part of the ocean had long been a pre- 
 vailing idea, and Mr. Dalrymple had renewed the 
 attention of the public towards the question, by his 
 historical collection of voyages to tho Pacific ocean, 
 ])ublished in two quarto volumes, one in 1770, the 
 other in 1771. To determine the matter finally. Cap- 
 tain Cook was again set out ; but the object of this 
 voyage was not merely to settle the question just men- 
 tioned, but to extend the geography of the globe to 
 its utmost limits : and, that nothing might be omitted, 
 which could facilitate the enterprize, two ships 
 were provided, furnished with every necessary, which 
 could be supposed to contribute to the success of the 
 undertaking. The first of these ships was the Re- 
 solution, of 462 tons and 118 men, commanded by 
 
BICTIONAay. Ill 
 
 Captain Cook ; and the latter the Adventure, of SS6 
 tons and 81 men, comanded by Mr. Tobias Fur- 
 neaux. 
 
 ' Both these sailed from Ecgland, on the 13th of 
 July, 1772, and arrived at the Cape of Good Hope, 
 on the 30th October, following. They departed 
 from thence, on the 22d of November, and from 
 that time, until the 17th January 1773, continued 
 endeavouring to discover the supposed continent ; 
 when they were obliged to relinquic^h the design, ob- 
 serving the whole sea, towards the South, covered 
 with vast bodies of ice, through which there seemed 
 no possibility of finding a passage. Mr. Cook, how- 
 ever, proceeded so far as to convince him, that, if 
 such a continent existed, as that which he was in 
 quest of, it must be within the polar circle, where 
 the sea is so incumbered with ice, that the coast must 
 be inaccessible ; and that such lands as lie to the 
 Southward of his discoveries can never be explored. 
 He then proceeded to the South seas, and after sur- 
 veying many countries, hitherto little or not known, 
 returned to the Cape of Good Hope, 21st March, 
 1775, and from thence to England, on the SOth July 
 following ; having, during three years and eighteen 
 days, in which time he performed the voyage, lost 
 but one man by sickness, in his own ship, although 
 he had navigated throughout all the climates from fif- 
 ty-two degrees North, to seventy one degrees of South 
 latitude, with a company of one hundred and eigh- 
 teen men. 
 
 The relation of this vovage was given to the pub- 
 lic by captain Cook himself, and by Mr. George Fors- 
 ter, son of Dr. Forster, both of whom government 
 had appointed to accompany him, for the purpose of 
 making observations on such natural productions as 
 might be found in the course of the navigation. The 
 account drawn up by the captain himself, sufficiently 
 shews, that though his early opportunities for literary 
 
 improvement had been but small, he had, by his own 
 
il'3 NEW EIOGRAPHICAt 
 
 industry, attained to such a proficiency m general 
 literature, as to be able to express himself with clear- 
 ness and propriety, and thus became respectable as 
 th^ narrator, as well as the performer of great ac- 
 tions. 
 
 The want of success, which attended captain 
 Cook's attempt to discover a Southern continent, did 
 not prevent another plan from being resolved on. 
 Geographical knowledge had of lat^ been greatly ex- 
 tended, but still there were some points in that science, 
 which had very much engaged the public attention, 
 and were indeed of such importance, as to become a 
 national concern. These were to discover the con- 
 nection between Arnerica and Asia, and to deter- 
 mine, whether there were not a possibility of short- 
 ening the passage to the East Indies by sailing round 
 the Northern parts of the continents of Europe and 
 Asia. Many attempts had, indeed, been already 
 made, by various navigators of different nations, but 
 all of them having failed, left the point still undeter- 
 mined. The dangers, which captain Cook had twice 
 braved and escaped from, would have exempted him 
 from being solicited a third time, to venture his per- 
 son in unknown countries, amongst desert islands, in- 
 hospitable climates, and in the midst of savages ; 
 but, on his opinion being asked, concerning the per- 
 son who would be most proper to execute this design, 
 his intrepid spirit and inquisitive mind, induced him 
 once more to offer his services, and they were accept- 
 ed without hesitation. Tie, accordingly prepared for 
 the voyage with the utmost alacrity, and set sail on 
 the 12th July, 1776. 
 
 A few months after his departure from England, the 
 Royal Society voted him the gold medal, for the best 
 experimental paper that had appeared throughout the 
 year. It was the custom of Sir John Pringle, at the 
 annual delivery of this medal, to make an elaborate 
 discourse, containing the history of that part ot science, 
 for which the medal was given ; and as the subject ot 
 
DICTIONARV. lis 
 
 captain Cook's paper, the means of preserving the 
 health of seamen, was analagous to the profession o£ 
 Sir John as a physician, he had the greater opportu- 
 nity of displaying his eloquence on the occasion. In 
 this speech he remarked, that the society had never 
 more meritoriously bestovi^ed the medal, than on the 
 person who now received it, " who had not only made 
 the most extensive, but the most instructive voyages; 
 who had not only discovered, but surveyed vast tracts 
 of new coasts ; who had dispelled the lilus'on of a 
 Terra Amtraiis Incognita, and fixed the bounds of 
 the habicable earth, as well as those of the navigable 
 ocean, in the Southern hemisphere j but however am- 
 ple a field for praise those circuiiistances would af- 
 ford, it was a nobler motive that had prompted the 
 society to notice captain Cook, in the honourable 
 manner v/hich had occasioned his address." After 
 descanting on the means used on the voyage, to pre- 
 serve the lives of the sailors, he thus concluded his 
 discourse : " If Rome decreed the civic crown to him, 
 who saved the life of a single citizen, what wreaths 
 are due to that man, who, having himself ^saved 
 many, perpetuates, in your transactions, the means 
 by which Britain may now, on the most distant 
 voyages, save numbers of her intrepid sons, her mar- 
 iners, who, braving every danger, have so liberally 
 contributed to the fame, to the opulence and to the 
 maritime empire of their country." It will, however, 
 give pain to every sensible mind to reflect, that 
 this honourable testimony to the memory of our gal- 
 lant commander never came to his knowledge. 
 
 Cook's last voyage served to prove that there was no 
 practicable passage, between the Atlantic and Pa- 
 cific oceans, towards the North; but on his return it 
 unfortunately happened that he was killed in an affray, 
 with the natives of Owyhee, one of the Sandwich 
 islands, Feb. 14th, 1119. 
 
 So highly important to the world, was captain 
 Cook's enterpnze deemed, that, about the time of 
 
 Vol. II. No. 10. P 
 
114 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 his death, a letter was issued by M. de Sartine, se- 
 cretary to the marine department of France, and 
 sent to all the commanders of French ships, directing 
 that notwithstanding the existing state of hostilities 
 between Great Britain and France, captain Cook 
 should be treated with the same respect as if he be- 
 longed to a neutral and allied power. This humane 
 and generous proceeding, with respect to France, 
 originated with M. Turgot; but the thought is said 
 to have been first started by Doctor Franklin. This 
 much is at least certain, that the doctor, while am- 
 bassador at that court from the United States, wrote 
 a circular letter to the American naval commanders, 
 to the same purport of that which we have already 
 mentioned. 
 
 Captain Cook was a man of plain address and ap- 
 pearance, but well looked, and upwards of six 
 feet high. In his countenance he appeared rather 
 austere, but it was impossible for any man to exceed 
 him in humanity, as is evident from the whole tenor of 
 his conduct. The perseverance with which he pursued 
 everyobject, which happened to be pointed out to him 
 as duty, was unequalled. Nothing could ever divert 
 him from what he had once undertaken, and he per- 
 severed in the midst of dangers and difficulties, which 
 would have disheartened persons of very considerable 
 strength and firmness of mind. He was master of 
 himself on every trying occasion, and the greater the 
 emergency, the greater always appeared his calmness 
 and recollection. That he possessed genius in an 
 eminent degree, cannot be questioned; for his inven- 
 tion was ready, and capable not only of suggesting 
 the most noble objects of pursuit, but the most pro- 
 per methods of attaining them. Kis knowledge of 
 his own profession could not be surpassed, and to 
 this he added a very considerable proficiency in the 
 other sciences, particularly in astronomy. He was 
 an excellent husband and father, sincere and steady 
 in his friendships, and possessed of a general sobriety 
 
DICTIONARY. 115 
 
 and virtue of character. He was likewise distinguish- 
 ed by that simplicity of manners, which is almost in- 
 variably the attendant of great men. With all these 
 amiable qualities, the captain was occasionally sub- 
 ject to an hastiness of temper, which has, perhaps, 
 been exaggerated by some, who were not his friends : 
 but even these, when taking a general view of his 
 character, are obliged to acknowledge, that he was 
 undoubtedly, one of the greatest men of his age. 
 
 We shall conclude this article, by observing, that 
 the death of Captain Cook was universally regretted, 
 not only in Great Britain, but in the United States of 
 America, and throughout every part of Europe ; and 
 that his Majesty, in consideration of his important 
 services, settled a pension of 888 dollars per annum, 
 on his widow during her life, and 1 10 dollars a year 
 on each of his three sons. 
 
 COPERNICUS, (Nicola us) an eminent astro- 
 nomer, was born at Thorn, in Prussia, January 10th, 
 1472. After being instructed in the Greek and La- 
 tin languages at home, he was sent to Cracovia, 
 where he studied philosophy and physic. His genius, 
 in the mean time, was naturally turned to mathema- 
 tics, which he pursued through all its various branch- 
 es. He set out for Italy, when he was about 23 
 years of age, but staid some time at Bononia, for the 
 sake of being with Dominicus Maria, the celebrated 
 philosopher of that place, whom he attended, as an 
 Assistant, in making his observations. From thence 
 he passed to Rome, where he had no sooner arrived, 
 than he was appointed professor of mathematics, 
 which he taught, with much celebrity, for a long 
 time, in that city. He also made some astronomical 
 observations there, about the year 1500. 
 
 Returning to his own country, some years after, he 
 began tcf apply his vast knowledge in mathematics 
 to correct the system of astronomy, which then pre- 
 
116 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 vailed; for he could not persuade himself, that the 
 vast machine of the universe, formed by an all-wise 
 and all-powerful Bei;ig, was so embarrassed, and 
 irregular, as that system supposed. He, therefore^ 
 set himself to examine the different hypotheses, which 
 philosophers had invented for the solution of the ce- 
 lestial phenomena, and to try if a more symmetrical 
 order, and constitution of the world could be disco- 
 vered, and a more just and exquisite harmony in its 
 motions established, than that which the astronomers 
 of these times so easily admitted. But of all their hy- 
 potheses, none pleased him so well as that of Pytha- 
 goras, which made the sun the centre of the system, 
 and the earth to move, not only round the sun, but 
 round its own axis also. He thought he discerned 
 much beautiful order and proportion in this, and that 
 all that embarrassment and perplexity from cycles 
 and eccentrics, which attended the Ptolemaic hypo- 
 thesis, would here be entirely removed. 
 
 This system then, he began to consider and to 
 ■write upon, when he was about thirty-five years of 
 age. He employed himself in contemplating the 
 phenomena carefully ; in making mathematical cal- 
 culations, in examining the observations of the an- 
 cients, and in making new ones of his own ; and 
 after more than twenty years chiefly spent in this 
 manner, he brought his scheme to perfection, and 
 established that system of the world, which has since 
 gone by his name, and is now universally received. 
 This he performed, in a work entitled, ** De revolu- 
 tionibus orbium celestium." Of the revolutions of 
 the Celestial orbs. This work, however, had no 
 sooner made its appearance, than his system was con- 
 sidered as a most dangerous heresy, in consequence 
 of which, he was thrown into prison, by order ot Pope 
 "Urban VIII. nor was he enlarged till he recanted his 
 opinion : that is, till he renounced the evidence of 
 his senses. He died 24th May, 1543, in the 70ta 
 year of his age. 
 
DICTIONARY. 117 
 
 This extraordinary man was not only the greatest 
 of astronomers, but a perfect master of the Greek 
 and Latin languages, to all which he added the great- 
 est piety and innocence of manners. 
 
 COOPER, (Anthony Ashley) earl of Shaftesbu- 
 ry, the celebrated author of the " Characteristics," 
 was born in London, in 1671, in the house of his 
 grandfather Anthony, first Earl of Shaftesbury who 
 was, at that time, lord chancellor of England. That 
 nobleman was so exceedingly fond of him, from his 
 birth, that he undertook the care of his education 
 himself; and, in teaching him the learned languages 
 pursued ahnost the same method as Montaigne's fa- 
 ther did in teaching his son Latin ; that is, he placed 
 a person about him, who was so thorouglily versed in 
 the Greek and Latin tongues, as to speak either of 
 them with the greatest fluency. By this means the 
 young gentleman made so great a progress, that he 
 could read both these languages with ease, when but 
 1 1 years of age. 
 
 He began his travels in 1686, and spent a consi- 
 derable time in Italy, where he acquired a great 
 knowledge in the pohte arts, which appears so emi- 
 nently conspicuous through all his writings. Here- 
 turned to Engkmd, in 1689, and wilhinafewyears, was 
 elected a member of parliament, where he soon had 
 an opportunity of shewing that spirit of liberty, which 
 he maintained to the end of his life, and by which 
 he uniformly directed his conduct on all occasions. 
 It was the bringing in and promoting " The act 
 for granting counsel to prisoners in cases of high trea- 
 son." This he justly considered as highly important, 
 and had prepared a speech in its behalf; but when he 
 stood up in the house of commons, he was so intimi- 
 dated, that he was unable to proceed. The hou:^'/, 
 after giving him a little time to recover his confusion^ 
 called for him to go on, when he proceeded to ihi^ 
 
IIB NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 effect : ^^ If I, Sir," (addressing himself to the speak- 
 er) who ris-e only to give my opinion on the bill now 
 depending, am so confounded, that I am unable to 
 express the least of what I proposed to say, what 
 must the condition o^ that man be, who, without 
 sny assistance, is pleading ivr his life, and under ap- 
 prehensions of being deprived of it." During this 
 and the other sessions, in \vhich he continued in the 
 house of commons, he persevered in the same way, 
 always heartily concurring in every motion for the 
 iurther security of liberty; but finding, that, by a 
 constant attendance on the business of the house, his 
 constitution, which was naturally very weakly, be- 
 came greatly impaired, he was obliged to decline 
 coming again into parliament, after the year 1698. 
 
 He then returned to Holland, where, that he 
 might be less interrupted in the prosecution of his 
 studies, he is said to have concealed his uame : but 
 after about twelve months residence in that country, 
 he had the niortincation to find that an imperfect 
 edition of his " Enquiry into Virtue" had been' pub- 
 lished, in London. It had been surreptitiously taken 
 irom a rough draught, which he had sketched, when 
 he was no more than twenty years of age. This 
 treatise he afterwards completed, and published in 
 the second volume of his "Characteristics." 
 
 Soon after he returned to England, when upon the 
 death of his father, he became Earl of Shaftesbury. 
 About the year 1705, some pretended French prophets 
 having by their enthusiastic extravagance, made a 
 great disturbance throughout England, there were 
 different opinions with respect to the methods of sup- 
 pressing them, and some advised a prosecution ; but 
 as lord Shaftesbury wisely apprehended, that perse- 
 cution would tend much more to inflame than to cure 
 the disease, it gave rise to his " Letter concerning 
 enthusiasm," which he published in 1708. His" Mo- 
 ralist, a Philosophical Rhapsody," being a recital of 
 certain conversations, on natural and moral subjects 
 
BICTIONARY. 119 
 
 appeared In January 1709; and, in the May following, 
 his*'Sensus communis, or an Essay upon the freedom 
 of wit and humour." In 1710, his " Soliloquy, or ad- 
 vice to an author," was published ; but whilst he was 
 thus employed in literary composition, his health de- 
 clined so fast, that it was recommended to him to 
 seek assistance from a warmer climate. He set out, 
 therefore, for Naples, in July, 171 1 ; but his removal 
 thither was of no service to him ; he died on the 15th 
 February, 1713. 
 
 The only pieces which he finished, after he canie 
 to Naples, were, '• The judgment of Hercules," and 
 the "Letter concerning Design." In the three vo- 
 lumes of his " Characteristics of men, manners, opin- 
 ions and times," he completed the whole of his works, 
 which he intended for the public eye; yet, in 1716, 
 some of his letters were printed under the title of 
 " Several Leters, written by a noble lord, to a young 
 man of the University;" and in 1721, Toland pub- 
 lished " Letters from the late Earl of Shaftesbury, to 
 Robert Molesworth, Esq." 
 
 Though lord Shaftesbury, in general, treated the 
 clerical order with great severity, yet he is said to 
 have had an esteem for such of the English divines, 
 sis explained Christianity in a manner conformably to 
 his own principles; one remarkable instance of which 
 was displayed in his writing a preface to a volume of 
 Dr. Whichcots* Sermons, published in 1698. In his 
 letters to a young man of the University, he speaks 
 of Bishop Burnet and Dr. Hoadicy, in terms of great 
 applause; and has done justice to the merits of Tillot- 
 son, Barrow, Chillingviorth and Hammond, as the 
 chief pillars of the church, against fanaticism. But 
 whatever regard, his lordship might have had for 
 some of the Divines, it was to the writings of anti- 
 quity, that his ad.niration was chiefly directed. These 
 were the consinnt objects of his study, and from 
 them he formed iiis system of philosophy. 
 Of lord Shaftesbury's character as a writer, differ- 
 
120 KEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 cnt representations have been given. Lord Monbod- 
 do, one of his greatest admirers, in speaking of his 
 " Rhapsodist" in particular, does not hesitate to pro- 
 nounce it not only the best dialogue in the English 
 language, but the sublimcst pb.iicsophv; and says, 
 that, if we will join with it his " Inquiry," it is the 
 completest system, which we have, eitl^er of morali- 
 ty or theology. He likewise considers it as a niaster- 
 piece, in point of style and composition. 
 
 Even several of the authors, who have difting^jish- 
 ed themselves by their direct opposition to many c.'his 
 sentimentr., have nevertheless mixed no small degree 
 of applause with their censures. In particular, Mr. 
 Ealguy in his "• Letter to a Deist,'* says '' The purity 
 and politeness of his style, and the delicacy of his 
 sentiments are and must be acknowledn:ed bv all rea« 
 dcrs of taste and sincerity. But nevertheless as his 
 beauties are not easy to be overlooked, so neither are 
 his blemishes. His works appear to be stained with 
 so many gross errors, and his fine thoughts are so of- 
 ten mingled with absurdities, that however, we may 
 be charmed with the one, we are forced to condemn 
 the other." 
 
 But whatever praise may be bestowed on the ge- 
 nius and philosophy of lord Shaftesburv, the grand 
 point, in which he hath rendered himself justly ob- 
 noxious to the friends of religion, is his having inters- 
 persed through the **' Characteristics" a number of 
 insinuations, which appear unfavourable to the cause 
 of revelation ; and, though his preface to "Whichcot^s 
 sermons, and his " Letters to a Student at the L^ni- 
 versity" have been adduced as a proof of his Chris- 
 tianity, yet there are so many sceptical passages 
 in his writings, that we do not hesitate to pro- 
 nounce him a doubter at least, if not an shsohite un- 
 believer. Thus far, however, may be fairly conced- 
 ed, that in his general principles, he appears much 
 less exceptionable than numbers who have appeared 
 in the character of deists, the whole bent of his phi- 
 
 I 
 
dictionarV.^ 121 
 
 iosophy being to inculcate these two principles, viz. 
 tbar there is a Providence, w^hich administers and con- 
 sults for the whole, to the absolute exclusion of gener- 
 al evil and disorder, and that man is made by that 
 Providence, a political or social animal, whase con- 
 stitution can only find its true or natural end, in the 
 pursuit and exercise of the moral and social virtue^s. 
 The style of lord Shaftesbury's compositions is also 
 a point, on which there is some diversity of senti- 
 ment; but for the fullest and most judicious criticism, 
 which has appeared upon that subject, we shall 
 refer the reader to Dr, Blair's lectures on rhetoric and 
 belks lettres, 
 
 CORDE, (Charlotte) was born in the depart- 
 ment of Calvados in France, about the year 1774. 
 During a part of the French Revolution, she had been 
 in habits of confidence with many of the deputies of 
 the legislature, and her spirit was animated with the 
 greatest devotion to the cause of liberty and of her 
 country. 
 
 The factions, which prevailed in the convention, 
 had excited her abhorrence, and amongst those whom 
 she held most odious, was the infamous Marat, w^hosa 
 sanguinary proscriptions, denunciations and maxims, 
 had filled her soul with a determined resolution for 
 his destruction. She accordingly left her native home in 
 the beginning of July J 793, with an express determi- 
 nation of assassinating him, which she effected on the 
 evening of the day following, after conversing with 
 him on some political topics, by stabbing him to the 
 heart with a dagger. 
 
 Having perpetrated this deed, she walked out of 
 the house with the most perfect composure, and was 
 soon after arrested. When brought before a magis- 
 trate, she looked on him with a smile of the most in 
 dignant and contemptuous mockery, and declared, 
 that she gloried in releasing her country from a moa- 
 
 Vol. 11. No. II. Q 
 
122 ITEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 ster; that she had fixed her mind on his death, as ne- 
 cessary to its salvation; that there were others, who 
 should also perish, had she the power, but as she 
 knew she could sacrifice but one, she was determin- 
 ed to begin with the most execrable of them all. She 
 even spoke at large in justification of the deed, as 
 necessary to the honour and happiness of her country^, 
 and glorious to herself; that it was due to justice to 
 rid the world of a sanguinary monster, whose doc- 
 trines were framed for indiscriminate destruction, and 
 who was already condemned by the public opinion. 
 
 Her deportment, during her trial, was modest and 
 dignified. There was so engaging a softness in her 
 countenance, that it was diffxult to conceive how she 
 could have armed herself with sufficient intrepidity to 
 perpetrate such a deed, or to sustain herself with 
 so great collection on the verge of death. She heard 
 her sentence pronounced with attention and compo- 
 sure, and left the court with the greatest serenity, to 
 prepare for the last scene. When on the scaffold, 
 she behaved with the same fortitude, which she had 
 uniformly displayed from the commencem.ent of this 
 extraordinary transaction. As the executioner was 
 attempting to tie her feet to the plank, she resisted 
 from an apprehension that he meant to insult her; 
 but upon his explaininghimself, she submitted with a 
 smile; and her head was immediately after -severed 
 from her body. The author, from whom we have 
 abstracted this article, speaks of her conduct, in terms 
 of the highest applause. For our part, though we 
 are inclined to believe, that she performed a service 
 to her country, by ridding it of a detetestable mon- 
 ster, yet we can, by no means, approve of the means 
 by which she accomplished it, for we shall ever con- 
 sider assassination as a crime of the deepest liue; and 
 we conceive it to be still more horrid, when per^ 
 getrated by the delicate hand of a female. 
 
1>ICTI0NARY. 123 
 
 CORNARO, (Lewis) a noble Venetian, memo- 
 tdhle for having lived healthful and active to above 
 100 years of age, by a rigid course of temperance. 
 Amongst other performances, he wrote a treatise 
 which has been translated into English, and often 
 printed, entitled " Sure and certain methods of at- 
 taining a long and healthful life," of which we shall 
 here give some account, not only because it illustrates 
 the lite and character of Cornaro, but may also be of 
 use to some people, who place the chief happiness of 
 life in^he pleasures of the table. 
 
 He was moved to compose this little piece, at the 
 request of some young men, who, seeing him then 
 in his 81st year, in a fine florid state of health, were 
 desirous to know, by what means he preserved a 
 sound mind in a sound body, to so advanced an age. 
 He describes to them, therefore, his whole manner 
 of living. He t<:lls them, that, in his youth, he had 
 been of a weak constitution, and that, by irregular 
 indulgence, he had reduced himself, when about 40 
 years of age, to the brink of the grave, at which ex- 
 tremity, he was told by his physicians, that he had 
 no chance for his life, unless he should forthwith be- 
 come sober and temperate; that he had at first, found 
 it extremely difficult to comply with the regimen pre- 
 scribed, but driven by the necessity of the case, and 
 exerting resolutely all the powers of his understand- 
 ing, he at last became confirmed in a settled and un- 
 interrupted course of temperance, in consequence of 
 which, all his disorders had left him in less than an 
 year, and that from that time he had enjoyed an un- 
 interrupted state of good health. 
 
 To shew what security a lite of temperance affords 
 against the ill eflfects of hurts, and disasters, he re- 
 lates an accident which befel him, when he was very 
 old. One day being out in his carriage, he had the 
 misfortune to be overturned and dragged by the horses 
 a considerable way upon the ground. His head, his 
 arms, and whole body were very much bruised, and 
 
l2-i NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 one of bis ankles put out of joint. The pFiysicia-nflr, 
 seeing him so grievously mauled, concluded it to h& 
 impossible for him to live three days; in this, however^ 
 they were greatly mistaken; for, by pursuing the 
 mode of treatment usually observed in such cases, he 
 presently recovered and arrived at his former stability 
 and firmness. 
 
 Some sensualists had objected to his manner of 
 living, and, in order to evince the reasonableness of 
 their own, had urged, that it was not worth while to 
 mortify one's appetites at such a rate for the sake of 
 "being old, since all that was life, after the age of 65, 
 could not be properly called a" living, but a dead life/* 
 *' Now, says he, to shew these gentlemen how much 
 they are mistaken, 1 will briefly run over the satisfac- 
 tions and pleasures, which I myself enjoy in this 83d 
 year of my age. In the first place, I am always well, 
 and so active withal, that I can with ease, mount a 
 horse upon a flat, and walk to the top of very high 
 mountains. In the next place, I am always cheer- 
 ful, pleasant, perfectly contented, and free from all 
 perturbation and uneasy thoughts.'^ 
 
 After mentioning how he enjoyed himself at hh 
 different country-seats, he goes on, '' I frequently 
 make excursions to some of the neighbouring cities 
 for the sake of seeing my friends, and conversing 
 Avith the adepts in all arts and sciences; architects, 
 painters, statuaries, musicians, and even husband- 
 men. I contemplate their works, compare them 
 ^vith the ancients, and am always learnljig something 
 "which is agreeable to know. I take a view of pala- 
 ces, gardens, antiquities, public buildings, temples, 
 fortifications, and nothing escapes me, which can af- 
 ford the least amusement to a rational mind. Nor 
 are these pleasures at all blunted by the usual imper- 
 fections of great age; for I enjoy all my senf-es in per^ 
 feet vigour, my taste so very much, that I have a bet- 
 ter relish for the plainest food now, than I had for 
 the 'Choicest delicacies, when formerly immersed in a 
 
DICTIONARY. 125 
 
 life of luxury. Nay, to let you see what a portion of 
 lire and spirit, I have still left within me, know that 
 I have this very year written a comedy full of inno- 
 cent mirth. In short, that no pleasure whatever may 
 be wanting to my old age, I please myself daily, 
 with coQtemplating that immortality, which I thinlc 
 I see in the succession of my posterity. For every 
 time I return home, I meet eleven grandchildren, all 
 the offspring of one father and mother, all in fine 
 health; all, as far as I can discern, apt to learn, and 
 of good behaviour. I am often amused with their 
 singing, nay, I often sing with them, because my 
 voice is clearer and louder now, than ever it was in 
 my life before. These are the delights and comforts 
 of my old age ; from which, I presume, it appears, 
 that the life I spend, is not a dead and melancholy 
 life, but a living and pleasant life, which I would not 
 change with the most robust of these youths, who 
 indulge and riot in all the luxury of the senses, be- 
 cause 1 know them to be exposed to a thousand dis- 
 eases, and a thousand kinds of death. I, on the 
 contrary, am free from all such apprehensions ; from 
 the apprehension of disease, because I have nothing 
 for a disease to feed upon ; from the apprehension of 
 death, because 1 have spent a life of reason. Be- 
 sides, death, I am persuaded, is not yet near me. I 
 know, that (barring accidents) no violent disease can 
 touch me. I must be dissolved bv a gentle and jrra- 
 dual decay, when the radical humour is consumed 
 like oil in a lamp, which affords no longer light to 
 the dying taper. But such a death as this cannot hap- 
 pen of a sudden. To became unable to walk and 
 reason, to become blind, df af and bent to the earth, 
 from ail which evils, I am far enough at present, must 
 take a considerable portion of time; and 1 verily be- 
 lieve, that this immortal soul, which still inhabits mv 
 body, with so much harmony and complacency, will 
 not yet easily depart from it. I verily believe that I 
 feave many years to live, many years to enjoy the 
 
125 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 worlu, and all the good that is In It, by virtue of that- 
 strict sobriety and temperance, which I have so long 
 and so religiously observed." 
 
 It appeared from the event, that this wise and con- 
 tented philosopher, prophesied veiy truly concerning 
 his future health and happiness; for he lived, as we 
 have already observed, to be above an hundred years 
 old, and died at Padua, in 1566. One of the wri- 
 ters in the Spectator No. 195, confirms the story of 
 Coinaro, from the authority of the Venetian ambas- 
 sador^ at that time, in England. 
 
 CORNEILLE, (Peter) a celebrated French po- 
 et, was born at Rouen, m 1606. He was brought 
 up to the bar, but becoming disgusted with that pro- 
 fession, he soon rehnquished it. In the mean time, 
 he had given the public no specimen of his talents 
 for poetry, nor was he yet conscious to himself of 
 possessing any such ; and we are told, that it was 
 merely owing to a trifling affair of gallantry, that he 
 wrote his first comedy, called, " Melite.'* Cornell le 
 was astonished to find himself the author of a piece, 
 entirely new, and with the prodigious success with 
 which it was acted. The French theatre, which 
 was at that time, extremely low, seemed to be rais- 
 ed, and to flourish at once ; and though deserted, in 
 a manner, before, was filled on a sudden, with a 
 new company of actors. Encouraged by the most 
 imbounded applause, he wrote the "Medea," the 
 ^* Cid," and a number of other tragedies, which have 
 immortalized his name. 
 
 Corneille, in his dramatic works, discovers a ma- 
 jesty, a strength and elevation of genius, scarce to 
 be found in any other of the French poets ; and like 
 the immortal Shakespeare, seems more acquainted 
 With nature than with the rules of critics. In 1647, 
 he was chosen a member of the French Academy, 
 
DICTIONARY. 12? 
 
 and was dean of that society at the time of his death, 
 Tvhich happened in 1684, in his seventy-nintli year. 
 
 He was, it is said, a man of a devout and rather 
 melancholy disposition, and having, in his latter ycars^ 
 conceived a dislike to the theatre, he betook himself 
 to a religious life, and translated, in a very masterly 
 manner, a famous book, entitled " The Imitation of 
 Jesus Christ/' His works have been often printed, 
 and consist of above thirty plays, comedies and tra- 
 gedies. 
 
 COWPER, (William) a very ingenfous writer 
 and truly original poet, was born at Berkhampstead^ 
 in Hertfordshire, England; in 1731. His father wa& 
 a respectable clergyman and nephew to the Great 
 Earl Cooper, lord chancellor of England. Our au- 
 thor received his education at Westminster, from 
 whence he was transferred to the university of Cam- 
 bridge, which he left without taking any degree 9 
 for his plan being at that time to study the law, he 
 quitted the university, and entered himself of the 
 Inner-Temple. 
 
 At this period of his life, he was celebrated for 
 the vivacity and sprightliness of his conversation and 
 briliancy of his wit. He associated with those, who 
 were most eminent in the world ; and, though it i^ 
 not known, that he employed the press in any work, 
 he was well known to possess the powers of compr-- 
 sition, and was not the least distinguished of the 
 gr6upe, which then dictated the laws of taste. An 
 office of considerable value, which had been secured 
 for a term to his family, it is supposed he v/as intend- 
 ed to fill, and, in the mean time, he engaged in the 
 study of the law, with some application, but with 
 little success. His- temper and disposition of life, 
 were not in unison with the bustle of business ; his 
 health became precarious, and some event? alluded 
 
128 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 to in his poems, but not sufficiently explained, com* 
 pelled him to seek retirement in the country. 
 
 The profound reflections, which frequent retire- 
 ment occasioned him to indulge in, gave him a se- 
 riousness of manner and aspect, which alarmed his 
 friends, and excited their united endeavours to avert 
 the apprehended consequences : but notwithstanding 
 their kind and affectionate precautions, he contract- 
 ed a marked melancholy, which, at times, deprived 
 iiim of the use of his reason. The retirement he 
 chose was at Olney, in Buckinghamshire, at which 
 village he wrote the principal part of his poems. Here 
 the habitual gloominess, which had so long preved 
 upon his mind, was attempered, at least, if rot whol- 
 ly eradicated, by an intercourse with the Reverend and 
 pious-Mr. John Newton, then minister of that place, 
 who brought him acquainted with chat system of re- 
 ligion, which, in England, is denominated Cakinistic 
 Methodism. The mind of Mr. Cowper, long j)er- 
 plexed by scruples, of a religious nature, long be- 
 wildered on the subject of revelation itself, and har- 
 rassed by new dogmas and metaphysical objections, 
 thus at last became settled and composed. It is not, 
 therefore, to be wondered at, that the most endearing 
 friendship should have been formed between him and 
 that gentleman. 
 
 When Mr. Newton published his volume of hymns, 
 called the " The Olney *s collection," it was enriched 
 with some compositions from the pen of Mr. Cow- 
 per, distinguished by the letter C. They bear inter- 
 nal evidence of a cultivated understanding, and an 
 original genius. As Mr. Cowper had no relish for 
 public concerns, it was not singular, that he should 
 have neglected the study of the law, on which he 
 had first entered. That knowledge of active hfe, which 
 is so requisite for the legal profession, could hardly 
 be acquired on the banks of the Ouse, and in silent 
 contemplation on the beauties oi nature. In this re- 
 treat he exchange dp, for the society and converse of 
 
dictionahy;- «^^ 
 
 of the muses, the ambition and tumult of a forensic 
 occupation, dedicating his mind to the cultivation of 
 poetry, and storing it with these images, which he 
 derived from the inexhaustible treasury of a rich and 
 varied scenery, in a most beautiful and romantic coun- 
 try. This situation he so far improved, that it may 
 be safely asserted, no writer, with the exception of 
 Thomson, ever studied nature with more diligence, 
 or copied her with more fidelity. 
 
 The first volume of his poems, which was pub- 
 lished by Mr. Nev^ton, in 1782, consists of various 
 pieces, on various subjects. It seems that he had 
 been assiduous in cultivating a turn for grave and ar- 
 gumentative versification on moral and ethical sub- 
 jects. Of this kind, is the Table Talk, and several 
 other pieces in the collection. His lighter poems are 
 well known. Of these, the verses supposed to be 
 written by Robinson Crusoe, (Alexander Selkirk) on 
 the Island of Juan Fernandez, are in the most, popu- 
 lar estimation. There is great originality in the fol- 
 lowing Stanza : 
 
 " I am oat of humanity's reach, 
 I must finish my journey alone ; 
 Never hear the sweet music of speech^ 
 I start at the sound of my ovrn." 
 
 It would be absurd to give one general character 
 of all the pieces, which were published in this 
 volume; Yet this is true, concerning Mr. Cowper's 
 productions, that, in all the varieties of style, there 
 raay still be discerned the likeness and impression of 
 tnQ same mind, the same unaffected modesty, which 
 always rejects unseasonable and ambitious ornaments 
 of language, the same easy vigour, and the sama 
 serene and chearful hope derived from a steady and 
 unshaken faith in the christian religion. 
 
 The favourable reception which this first volume 
 experienced, produced another of superior merit, 
 entitled " The Task,'' a poem in six books. The 
 
 Vol. II, No. iO. R 
 
130 NEW BIOGRAPHICAi, 
 
 occasion tv-hich gave birth to it. Is trivial. A lady 
 had requested him to write a piece in blank verse, 
 and gave him for its subject, the Sofa. This, from 
 the trifle, which he at first intended, he expanded in- 
 to a volume containing one of the finest moral poems 
 w-hich the English language ever produced. Added 
 to it, are an epistle to Joseph Hill, Esq. Tirocinium^ > 
 or a Review of Schools, containing severe strictures 
 on the general mode of public education, in the Bri- 
 tish kingdoms; and, the universally Well known 
 " Historv of John Gilpin," a sportive piece of hu- 
 mour, which v^'ould have done credit to many writers, 
 but can hardly be said to have added to Mr. Cowper's 
 reputation. 
 
 His next work was " The Iliad and Odyssey of 
 Homer, translated into English blank verse," w^hich 
 were published in two volumes 4to. in 1791. It is 
 an unjust piece of criticism, to compare the version of 
 Mr. Pope, to that of Mr. Cowper. The merits of 
 each are distinct and appropriate. Mr. Pope has ex- 
 hibited Homer, as he v^-ould have sung, had he been, 
 born in England. Mr. Cowper has endeavoured to 
 pourtray him, as he wrote in Greek, adhering fre- 
 quently to the peculiarities of his originars idiom„ 
 and desiring to preserve his strength and energy, to- 
 gether with his harmony and smoothness. 
 
 The remaining literary work of Air. Cowper, though 
 said to be finished, has not yet seen the light, we 
 mean his complete translation of Milton's Latin and 
 Italian poetry, which Mr. Hayley describes as ar^ 
 elegant and spirited version. 
 
 During the last seven years of this amiable person's 
 life, the state of his health continued wavering and 
 uncertain, subject to frequent relapses, and exhibit- 
 ing, at times a spectacle, of calamity most distressing 
 to a feelino^ mind.* To the exertions of his friend, 
 Mr. Hayley, he was indebted for a pension from the 
 crown^t than which no exercise ot Roval benevolence 
 
J)ICTIONAaY. 15E 
 
 was ever more calculated to satisfy the v^ ishes of the 
 goody or the expectations of the generous. 
 He died, April 25th, 1800. 
 
 GOLDEN, (Cadwallader) son of the Rev- 
 Alexander Golden, minister of Dunse, in the Merse> 
 Scotland, was born 17th February, 1688.^ After 
 having received a liberal education, under the imme- 
 diate inspection of his father, he went to the Univer- 
 sity of Edinburgh, where, in 1705, he completed 
 his course of academical studies. He then applied 
 himself particularly to medicine and mathematics, and 
 was eminently distinguished by his proficiency in 
 both. 
 
 Allured by the fame of Mr. Penn's Golony of Penn- 
 sylv'ania, and the invitation of a relation, carried 
 thither by enthusiasm amongst the first settlers, he 
 went over to that country, about the year 1708, 
 Here, after having practised physic, for some years 
 with great reputation, he returned to his native coun- 
 try, which he found greatly distracted, in consequence 
 of the troubles of 1715. From London, he went 
 down to Scotland, in company with the Marquis of 
 Lothian, and putting himself at tlie head of the loy- 
 al men of his father's congregation, joined a body of 
 militia, under lord Ancram, to oppose the progress 
 of general M'Intosh, a circumstance in his life, which 
 had not been worth mentioning, had not his enemies 
 in America, many years afterwards, propagated a 
 report, that Mr. Golden bad bc.m engaged in the re- * 
 bellion of that year. 
 
 The state of his native country, marring all his 
 prospects of enjoyment with his friends and learned ac- 
 _quaintances, he hastened to complete a matrimonial 
 connection with a young lady of a respectable Scotch 
 family, by the name of Gristie, with whom he re- 
 turned to America, in 1716. 
 
 Whilst in London, he was introduced to Dr. Hal- 
 
13^ NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 ley, who was so w^cll pleased with a paper on animal 
 secretions, written in that early part of Mr. Colden's 
 life, that he read it before the Royal Society, the no- 
 tice of which, it greatly attracted. 
 
 At this time, he formed an acquaintance with some 
 of the most distinguished literary characters in Eng- 
 gland, with whom he afterwards corresponded, giving 
 them useful and curious inteligence from this then 
 little known country. He early began to notice the 
 plants of America, classing and distinguishing them 
 according to the custom of botany then in use. He 
 was attentive to the climate, and left a long course of 
 diurnal observations on the thermometor, barometer 
 and winds. He cultivated an acquaintance with the 
 natives of the country, and often entertained his cor- 
 respondents with observations on their customs and 
 manners. He wrote also a history of the prevalent 
 diseases of the climate, and if he w^as not the lirst to 
 recommend, he wa^ certainlv one of* the earliest and 
 Avarmest advocates of the cooling regimen, in the 
 cure of fevers ; and opposed with great earnestness 
 the then prevalent mode ot shutting up, in warm and 
 confined rooms, patients in the small pox. 
 
 Brigadier General Hunter, at that time, governor 
 of New-York, a man of letters and a correspondent 
 of Dean Swift,who mentions the general in one of the 
 Tatlers, under the appellation of Eboracensis, con- 
 ceived so favourable an opinion of Mr. Golden, after 
 a short acquaintance, that he became his warm triend, 
 and offered him his patronage, if he would remove 
 to New-York. In 1718, therefore, Mr. Golden set- 
 tled in that city, where, in a year or two after, he 
 was made survevor general of lands, and was the 
 first, who filled that office in the colony. About the 
 same time, he appears, likewise, to have received as 
 the first evidence of hi^ patron's favour, the appoint- 
 ment of Master in Ghancery. 
 
 In 1720, upon the arrival o( governor Burnet, of 
 whose life v/e have already given a sketch, he was 
 
DICTIONARY, 1S3 
 
 honoured with a seat in the king's council of the pro- 
 vince, to the head of which board, he afterwards 
 Tor^e, by survivorship ; and, in that station, succeed- 
 ed to the administration of the government, in 1760. 
 
 Previous to this, Mr. Golden had obtained a patent 
 for a tract of land in the then county of Ulster, about 
 nine miles from Newburgh, on the Hudson river, and 
 to this place, which, in his patent, is called Cold- 
 ingham, he retired, with his family, about the year 
 1755. There he undertook to clear and cultivate a 
 small part of the tract as a farm, and his attention 
 was divided between agricultural and philosophical 
 pursuits, and the duties of his office of surveyor ge- 
 neral. 
 
 The spot, which he had selected for his retirement, 
 is entirely inland, and has nothing remarkably plea- 
 sant in it. The grounds are rough and of no very 
 superior quality. At the time he chose it for a resi- 
 dence, it was solitary, uncultivated, and the country 
 around it absolutely a wilderness, without even roads, 
 or, if any, such as were hardly passable. It was be- 
 sides, a frontier to the Indians, who were often in a 
 state of hostility, and committed frequent barbarities. 
 Yet no entreaties of his friends, when they thought 
 him in danger, from his savage neighbours, could en- 
 tice him from his favourite home. He chose rather 
 to guard and fortify his house, and amidst dangers, 
 which would have disturbed the minds of most men, 
 he appears uninterruptedly to have gone on, in his pur- 
 suit of knowledge. 
 
 In 1761, the king of Great Britain appointed hiin 
 his lieutenant governor of New- York, which com- 
 mission he held till the time of his death, the ad- 
 ministration of government repeatedly falling on him 
 by the death or absence of several Governors in chief. 
 
 His political character w^as rendered very con- 
 spicuous, by the firmness of his conduct as govenior, 
 during the violent commotions, which preceded the 
 late revolution. He had the administration when the 
 
134 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 paper, to be distributed in New- York, under the Bri- 
 tish stamp act arrived, and it was put under his care 
 in the fortification called Fort George, which was 
 then standing on the Battery point. The attempt ot 
 the British parliament, to raiiie a revenue, by taxing 
 the colonies, had, in every stage, excited a spirit of 
 indignation and resentment, which had long since 
 risen above the controul of government. This step 
 to carry the project into execution, at once, gave ac- 
 tivity to the malecontents ; and, as the authors of the 
 plan were out of their reach, they determined to let 
 their agents and servants feel the weight of the re- 
 sentment, w^hich was at first directed against those 
 who held any office under the act. At length, a 
 multitude, consisting of many thousand people, as- 
 sembled under leaders, who have since been con- 
 spicuous revolutionary characters, and determined to 
 make the Lieutenant Governor deliver up to them 
 the stampt paper, to be destroyed, Mr Golden had 
 received an intimation of their design, and prepared 
 to defend, with fidelity, the trust which had devolv- 
 ed upon him. He required the engineers under his 
 command, in the fort, to put it in the best possible 
 state of defence. But, after doing this, they report- 
 ed to him, that the fortress was not competent to re- 
 sist the force by which it v/as threatened ; that it was 
 commanded by many circumjacent buildings; that it 
 afforded no cover to the defenders, and that the walls 
 might every where be surmounted and carried by es- 
 calade. In the evening of the 15th February, 1766, 
 a vast concourse of people assembled round the fort ; 
 a few, w^ho appeared to act as a committee, handed 
 in a paper, signed " New-York," by which they de- 
 manded the surrender of the stamped paper, and 
 threatened, that if it was not yielded to ihem, the 
 governor and his adherents should be massacred ; but 
 the venerable magistrate remained inflexible, and thd' 
 he was surrounded by a terrified family, and those 
 whose safety was most dear to him, and who, ever/ 
 
DICTIONART. 135 
 
 moment J expected to find themselv'es at the mercy of 
 an exasperated mob, he preserved his equanim'uy and 
 was unmoved, either by the tears and entreaties of 
 those within , or the threats and railings he heard 
 from without. That kind of firmness, which, though 
 it sometimes maintains wrong actions, yet is seldom 
 observed, but in those who think they are right, was, 
 in him, a distinguished characteristic. The mob hav- 
 ing remained together the greatest part of the night, 
 without proceeding to extremities, and finding that 
 they could not, by those means, obtain the papers, 
 at length dispersed. They assembled again several 
 times, till, in 'the sequel, the papers, for their securi- 
 ty were put on board a British man of war, then in 
 the port. In the mean time, the populace gratified 
 their resentment, by burning the efiigy of the Lieuten- 
 ant Governor, and destroying his carriages under his 
 view. 
 
 His administration is rendered memorable amongst 
 other things, by several charters of incorporation, tor 
 the most useful and benevolent purposes. The cor- 
 poration for the relief of distressed seamen, called 
 ** The Marine Society;" that of the "Chamber of 
 Commerce," and one for the relief of widows and 
 children of Clergymen, will transmit his name with 
 approbation to the remotest posterity. 
 
 Though he quitted the practice of medicine at an 
 early day, yet he never lost sight of his favorite stu- 
 dy, being ever ready to give his assistance to his neigh- 
 borhood, and to those, who from his reputation ot 
 knowledge and experience, applied to him from 
 more distant quarters. 
 
 About the year 1743, a mafignant fever then 
 also called the Yellow-Fever, had raged for two 
 summers in the city of New-York, and appears 
 to have been in all respects similar to that disor- 
 der, the fatality of which, we have of Jate years so 
 dreadfully experienced. He communicated his 
 thoughts to the public, on the most probable cure cl 
 
135 NfiW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 the calamity, in a little treatise on the occasion, m 
 which he collected the sentiments of best authority, 
 on the bad effects of stagnatin^^ waters, moist air, 
 damp cellars, filthy stores and dirty streets. He shewed 
 how much these nuisances prevailed in many parts of 
 the city, and pointed out the reniedles. The corpo- 
 ration of the city gave him their thanks, and establish- 
 ed a plan for draining and cleaning the city, which 
 was attended with the most happy effects. 
 
 He also wrote and published a treatise ^' On the 
 cure of the cancer'* j and another essay of his, on the 
 virtues of the Bortanice, or great water dock a spe- 
 cies of the rumex introduced him to an acquain- 
 tance with the great Linnsus. In the year 1753, 
 he published some observations on an epidemical sore 
 throat, which had appeared over a great part of 
 North America. 
 
 When he became acquainted with Linna^us's sys- 
 tem of botany, he applied himself with new delight 
 to that study. His description of between three and 
 tour hundred American plants, according to that sys- 
 tem are published in the " Acta Upsaliensia. One of 
 his dauq:hters took so lar^e a share in his botanical 
 amusements, that she became a prohcient in the sci- 
 ence. She not only described a great iiumber of plants 
 but took impressions of their foliage. One of her 
 descriptions of an American piant, till then undiscri- 
 bed, is published in the second volum«£ of the Edin- 
 burgh Physical and Literary essays ; from whence it 
 has tound its way into other books on the science of 
 botany, and is met with in the Encyclopaedia, under the 
 head Coldenia, a name given to tlie plant by Linn- 
 a:u^, as a compliment to the daughter of Mr. Colden. 
 
 ^Vhile Mr. Burnet was governor of New- York, Mr. 
 Colden published "The history of the Five Indian na* 
 tions," and dedicated it to the governor, who had ap- 
 plied himself with great wisdom and success to the 
 management of the Indians. The book was printed 
 at London, in 1747, with the original dedication in- 
 
Dictionary. IS7 
 
 tended for Govenior Burnet, directed to General Ogle- 
 thorp, which Mr. Golden justly complains of as an 
 unpardonable absurdity of the printer, who took the 
 further liberty of adding several Indian treaties and 
 other papers v/ithout his knowledge or approbation. 
 
 But the subject, which drew Mr. Golden, at one 
 time of his life, from every other pursuit j was what 
 he first published under the title of " The cause of 
 Gravitation," and being much enlarged, appeared in 
 1751, under the title of '' The Principles of Action 
 in matter,'* to which he added a " Treatise on Fluc- 
 tions.'* The bounds to which this publication is ne- 
 cessarily limited, will not admit of an attempt to give 
 an idea of a work which cost the author many years 
 close and severe study. He died in a firm persuasion, 
 that however he might have erred in the deductions, 
 the grand fundamental principles of his system were 
 true, and that they would, one day or other, be re* 
 ceived as such in the world. He prepared a new 
 edition of his book, with large additions and eluci- 
 dations of such parts as had been subjected to ob- 
 jections. At the time that this work was ready for the 
 press, he was so far advanced in years, that he des- 
 paired of living to see it published. He, therefore, 
 transmitted his MS. to his friend and correspondent. 
 Dr. Whittle, of the Royal College of Physicians, and 
 professor of Medicine, in the university of Edin- 
 burgh. Their fate, since that time, is not known. 
 
 Though Mr. Colden's principal attention, after the 
 year 1760, was directed from philosophical to politi- 
 cal matters, yet he maintained, with great punctuali- 
 ty, his literary correspondence, particularly with Lin- 
 naeus of Upsal, Gronovius of Leyden, Dr. Potters** 
 field and Dr. Whittle, of Edinburgh, and Mr. Peter 
 Coliinson, F. R.S. of London, who, though he never 
 saw Mr. Golden, was a most useful and affectionate 
 iriend, and to him Mr. Golden owed an introduc- 
 :ion to many other of the most literary characters of 
 Europe. There are several communications betweeii 
 
 Vol. n. No. 11, S 
 
138 NEW BIOGRAPHICAr 
 
 him and the Earl of Macclesfield, ,>vho appears to 
 have devoted much of his attention. to .mathematics 
 and astronomy. He was the constant and intimate 
 correspondent of Doctor Franklin , and they regularly 
 communicated to each other, their philosophical and 
 physical discoveries, particularly on electricity, which 
 at that time^ began to excite the attention of Philoso- 
 phers. In their letters, are to be observed the first 
 dawnings of many of those discoveries, which Dr. 
 Franklin has communicated to the world, and which 
 have so much astonished and benefited mankind. Dr. 
 Franklin, in a letter to one of his friends, gives 
 him an account of the organization of the American 
 Philosophical Society, of which he mentions that Mr. 
 Golden had first suggested the idea and plan; and, 
 which was opened at Philadelphia, on account of its 
 central and convenient situation. He wr.s also the 
 intimate friend and frequent correspondent of James 
 Alexander Esq. who was long his fellow in the coun- 
 cils of the province, and who was, likewise, a man 
 of great learning, and deeply versed in the mathe- 
 matical and astronomical sciences. 
 
 At any recess trom public business, though at so 
 advanced an age, he was fond of rt-suming his philo- 
 sophical pursuits^ and w^ote several essays on the 
 most intricate subjects, many of which remiain in 
 MS. Amongst his papers, though most of them want 
 much correction and revision to fit them for the press, 
 it has unfortunatelv happened, th.a.t in the variety of 
 hands into which they have fallen, many of his wri- 
 tings have become mutilated, and a great part of 
 some of them are entirely lost. Amongst these are 
 an enquiry into the operation of intellect, in anim.als, 
 a piece of great o riginality : another on the essential 
 properties of light, a very ingenious performance, in- 
 t-erspersed with c «rious observations on electricity, 
 heat, matter, &c. An introduction to the study of 
 j)hysic, he threw, nto the form ot instructions to one 
 of his grandsons, and dates in the eighty-first year of 
 
 4 
 
DICTIONARY. lS9 
 
 his age: " An enquiry into the causes producing the 
 phenomenon of metal medly svviming in water;" "An 
 Essay on Vital Motion/' and lastly, " Observations 
 on Mr. Smith's History of New-York," comprehend- 
 ing memoirs of the public transactions, in which he 
 was conversant. He complains of the partiality of 
 Mr. Smith, and supposes that he is incorrect in many 
 particulars. 
 
 He was, for the first time, relieved from the weight 
 of the administration of government, by the return of 
 Mr. Tryon, the governor in chief, in 1115. He then 
 retired to a seat on Long-Island, where a recollec- 
 tion of his former studies, and a circle of a few select 
 friends ever welcomed by a cheerful and hospitable 
 disposition, enlivened the placid beams of his setting 
 sun. He died on the memorable 2Sth September, 
 1776, a few hoars before the city of New- York was 
 in flames. He complained neither of pain of body 
 nor anguish of mind, except on account of the politi- 
 cal troubles he had long predicted, and then saw 
 overwhelming both the mother country and the colo- 
 nies. He retained his senses till the last moment, 
 and turning as it were to take a nap, expired with- 
 out a groan, having nearly completed the eighty- 
 ninth year of his age. 
 
 CRANMER, (Thomas) an English archbishops 
 and martyr for the protestant rcligeon, was born in 
 Nottinghamshire, in 1489. in the year, 1503, he was 
 admitted of Jesus* college, Cambridge, of which he 
 afterwards became tellow. Soon afler he had com- 
 menced master of arts, he married, in consequence of 
 which he lost his fellowship ; but his wife dying with- 
 in a year, the college had so great respect for his un- 
 common abilities and application to letters, that they 
 agam re-elected him to his former station. 
 
 In 1523, he was made D. D. and chosen theologi- 
 cal lecturer, and examiner of those who wished to be 
 
no IfiEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 ndmitted to the degree of divinity. Contrary totlie 
 practice, which had been heretofore prevalent, he ex- 
 amined the candidates chiefly out of the scriptures^ 
 and finding that many of them, instead of having di« 
 reeled their attention to that subject, had thrown 
 away their time on the dark perplexities and useless 
 questions of the schoolmen, he rejected them as in* 
 competent. He, at the same time, advised them to ap- 
 ply themselves closely to the study ofthe scriptures,ad- 
 ding, tliat it was a shame for a professor of divinity to 
 be unskilled in that book, wherein the knowledge of 
 God «ind the true foundation of divinity was alone to 
 be found. 
 
 The immediate cause of his advancement in the 
 church, was the opinion he gave upon Henry VIII. th's 
 intended divorce from Queen Catharine of Spain : for 
 being upon a certain occasion in company with some 
 persons of distinction, and that matter, w^hich was al- 
 jPiOst the only.thing talked of, becoming the subject 
 of conversation, Cranmer being desired to speak,. 
 gave it as his opinion, that it would be much better 
 to have this question, " whether a man may marry his- 
 brother's wife or no, discussed and decided by the di- 
 vines, upon the authority of God's word, than thus to 
 prolong the time by having recourse to the Pope; 
 that there vvas but one truth in it, which the scripture 
 "would soon declare and manifest ; and that might be 
 done as well at the universities in England, as at Rome 
 or elsewhere." This opinion being communicated to 
 the King, his Majesty was so much pleased with it^ 
 Ihat he serit for Cranmer to court, made him one of 
 his chaplains, and ordered himtowTite upon the sub- 
 ject of the divorce. He did so, and shewed by the testi- 
 monies ofthe scriptures, of general councils and an- 
 cient writings, that the Bishop of Rome had no autho- 
 rity to dispense with the word of God. From hence 
 we may learn, that the reformation which Luther 
 had set on foot in Germany in 1517, began to make 
 seme progress amongst the English immediately afteifi 
 
DICTIONAHY. 341 
 
 When he had finished his book, he went to Cambridge 
 to dispute upon that subject, and brought mnny over 
 to his opinion. About this time he was, likewise 
 promoted to a rich living in the church. 
 
 The king, by the perusal of this book, having now 
 satisfied his own tender conscience, was desirous that 
 all Europe should be equally convinced as him- 
 self, with respect to the illegality of his marriage. 
 He, therefore, in 1530, dispatched Cranmer, along 
 with some others, to France, Italy and Germany, 
 to dispute the matter with the divines of these coun- 
 tries. Whilst he was at Rome, the Pope consti- 
 tuted him his penitentiary throughout England, Ire- 
 land and Wales; not so much out of respect to 
 him, as to appease that reforming spirit, which he had 
 alreadv discovered. In Germanv, he was sole am- 
 bassador upon the forementioned affair ; and, during 
 his residence there, married at Nuremburgh, his se* 
 cond wife. 
 
 Upon the death of Dr. Wardam, archbishop 
 of Canterbury, in 1532, he was nominated for his 
 successor ; but he refused to accept of that dignity^ 
 unless he should receive it from the king witliout the 
 intervention of the Pope. He was consecrated March 
 50th, 1533 : and, because in the oath of fidelity ta 
 the Pope, which he was obliged to take upon this oc- 
 casion, there were some things seemingly inconsist- 
 ent with his allegiance to the king, he made a public 
 protestation, that he intended not to take the oath in 
 any other form, than that which wasreconcileable to 
 theiawsof God, theking's just prerogative and the sta- 
 Tues of his kingdom; so as not to bind himself there- 
 by to act contrary to either. On the 23d of May, 
 1533, he pronounced the sentence of divorce between 
 king Henry and queen Catharine^; and, in a few 
 days after, married the amorous monarch to Ann Bo« 
 leyn. The Pope, alarir^ed at these proceedings, threat- 
 ened to excommunicate the archbishop, unless he 
 would revoke what he had done : hC;, however, ap- 
 
142 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 pcalcd from his holiness to a general council : and, 
 tiom that time, became an open and avowed enemy 
 to the Pope*s supremacy, which, in the year follow- 
 mg was abrogated by parliament, chiefly by his 
 means. 
 
 Being now at the head of the church, Cranmer 
 exerted himself to the utmost, in promoting the pro- 
 gress of the reformation. His first care was to have 
 the bible translated into the English language ; a work, 
 which was received with inexpressible joy by all class- 
 es of people : he, alterwards, forwarded the sup- 
 pression of the monasteries. In 1537, he visited his 
 diocese, and endeavoured to abolish the superstitious 
 observation of holidays. In 1539, he and some other 
 bishops, who favoured the reformation, fell under the 
 king's displeasure, because they would not consent 
 in parliament, thai the revenues of the monasteries, 
 which w.-'re suppressed, should be appropriated to 
 his own sole use. They had, indeed, agreed, that 
 he should have all the lands, which his ancestors had 
 given to any of them ; but they wished to bestow the 
 residue on hospitals, schools, and other pious and 
 charitable foundations. Cranmer, in particular, had 
 projected, that provision should be made out of this 
 fund, for readers of divinity, and of Greek and He- 
 brew, in every cathedral ; by w^hich means, they 
 might be converted from nurseries of idleness, into 
 seminaries of useful learning. But Gardiner, bishop 
 of Winchester, and the rest of the popish faction, 
 took this opportunity to insinuate themselves into the 
 king's favour, and to incense, him against the arch,- 
 bishop ; and, from that circumstance, we may ac- 
 count for the king's zeal, in pressing the bill contain- 
 ing, what has since been called, the six bloody arti- 
 cles; by which, none were allowed to speak against 
 transubstantiation, on pain of being burnt as heretics. 
 It was, also, thereby, made felony to defend the 
 communio-n in both kinds, or marriage of the clergy, 
 or tliose, who had vowed celibacy, or to speak against 
 
DICTIONARY. 14S 
 
 private masses and auricular confessions. The archv 
 bish .«p argued boldiy against the passing of this act,, 
 for three days successively, in the house of lords: 
 DotWithstanding which, he still retained the ki^:g'^ 
 favour ; but, when the act was carried through, he 
 thought it prudent to send his wqfe into Germany. 
 
 In 1540, the king issued out a commission to the 
 archbishop and a select number of bishops, to inspect 
 into matters of religion, and explain some of its chief 
 doctrines. The bishops drew up a set of articles, ia 
 favour of the old popish superstitions: but, though 
 Cranmer saw that he was daily losing grouted, in th^ 
 king's affection, no argument could prevail on him to 
 sub.>cribe to such tenets. The result of the comuiis- 
 sion, therefore, was the book, entitled, "A neces- 
 sary erudition for any Christian man." 
 
 in the year 1541, he gave orders, pursuant to the 
 king's direction, for taking av/ay superstitious shrines; 
 and, in the year following, procured the "Act for 
 the advancement of true religion, and the abolishment 
 of the contrary," by which, the rigour o[ the six ar- 
 ticles was greatly moderated. The king continued, 
 afterwards, to protect him from his enemies : and, 
 by his last will, appointed him one of his executors 
 arid regent of the kingdom. 
 
 On February 20th, 1547, ho crowned Edw^ard 
 VI. during whose shoM ign, he promoted the re- 
 formation to the v^'.iiost of his power. About the 
 same time, he ordained several priests ?nd deacons, 
 according to the new form of ordination, in the com- 
 mon prayer book, which, through his care, was now 
 finished, and settled by act of parliament. In the 
 beginning of 1553, he opposed the intended settle- 
 ment of the crown upon Jane Gray, though upon, 
 the death of Edward VI. which happened on the 
 6th July, of the same year, he was induced to appear 
 for her. 
 
 Those acquainted with the history of England, will 
 recollect, that, after that lady had held the reins ef 
 
144 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 government, for a very few days, she was deposed 
 by Queen Mary : after whose accession to the throne, 
 the troubles of our archbishop began to multiply 
 apace. He was first ordered to appear before the 
 council, and bring an inventory of his goods, Aug. 
 27th, when he w^as commanded to consider himself 
 as a prisoner, in his own house : and, in September 
 following, he was committed to the tower, partly for 
 setting his hand to the instrument of Jane Gray's suc- 
 cession, and partly for the public offer he had made, 
 a little before, of openly justifying the religious pro- 
 ceedings of the late king. In the ensuing parliament, 
 November 3d, he was attainted, and found guilty of 
 high treason ; upon which the fruits of his arch- 
 bishopric were sequestered. In April, 1554, he, 
 with the two bishops Ridley and Latimer were remov- 
 ed to Oxford, to a public disputation with the papists, 
 which was accordingly held upon the 18th of that 
 month. Two days after he was brought before the 
 commissioners, and asked, whether he would sub- 
 scribe to popery, and, upon his refusal, was con- 
 demned as an heretic : upon which, he told them, 
 that he appealed from their unjust sentence to the 
 Almighty, who, he trusted, would receive him into 
 Ms glorious presence, n heaven, since, for the main- 
 tainance of his spiritual presence at the altar, he had 
 been condemned here on earth. After this, his ser- 
 vants were dismissed from their attendance, and him- 
 self closely confined in prison. 
 
 The latter end of the year, the convocation, which 
 happened to be composed generally of papists, as- 
 sembled, and ordered his book on the true nature of 
 the sacrament to be burnt, together with the English 
 bible and common-prayer-book. Cranmer, however, 
 continued to be more anxious for the propagation of 
 truth than for his own personal safety. He, therefore, 
 employed his melancholy hours in writing a vindica- 
 tion of his treatise on the Eucharist. 
 Early in 1 5 5 5, a new commission w^a* sent from Rome, 
 
for tlie trial of Cranmer, the former sentence against 
 him, being void in iavv ; because the authority of the 
 Pope was not then re-established, in England. He, 
 accordingly, on the 12th September, appeared before 
 the commissioners, at Oxford, where he was accused 
 of blasphemy, perjury, incontinence and heresy ; of 
 blasphemy and heresy, for his writings against popery ; 
 of perjury, tor breaking his oath to the Pope ; and ot 
 incontinence, on account of his being married. Af- 
 ter having fully vindicated himself from these accu- 
 sations, he was cited to appear at Rome, withiji 
 eighty days, to answer, in person : this, however, 
 was only a mock citation, for he was kept, all that 
 time, in close confinement; and yet, at the end of 
 the eighty days, he was declared contumacious, for 
 not having answered to the summons ; and, at the 
 same time, degraded and deprived, 
 
 Cranmer had, hitherto, manifested much couragi* 
 and wisdom in his sufferings -, but, at last, human 
 frailty made him commit what has been deemvd a 
 most grievous error ; for, from various motives, es- 
 pecially that of saving his life, he was artfully drawn 
 in by the paptibts, to sign a recantation, wherein he 
 renounced the Protestant religion, and re-embraced 
 Popery. But even this was not sufficient to gratify 
 the pioii^ vengeance of Mary, who was still resolved 
 to commit him to the flames. On the 2 1st of March, 
 1556, which was the day appointed for that purpose, 
 he was brought to St. Mary's church, Cambridge, 
 and placed on a kind of sta^e over ao:ainst the pul- 
 pit. Where Dr. Cole was appointed to preach a ser- 
 mon on the occasion. In this discourse, Cole attempt- 
 ed to assign some reasons, why it was expedient, that 
 Cranmer should suffer, notwithstanding his recanta- 
 tion j and, in the close, addressed himself particu- 
 larly to the archbishop, exhorting him to bear up 
 with courage against the terrors of death, and, by 
 the example of the thief on the cross, encouraged hirn 
 not to despair, since he was returned, though late. 
 Vol. II. No. I U T 
 
146 VEVf BIOGRAPHUAt 
 
 into the bosom of the catholic church, and to the pro- 
 fession of the true apostolical faith. The archbishop, 
 who, till that moment, had not the least notice of 
 his intended execution, was struck with the most in- 
 expressible horror. During the whole of the sermon, 
 he expressed great inward confusion, sometimes lift- 
 ing up his eyes to heaven, sometimes casting them 
 down to the ground, with marks of the utmost de- 
 jection, and frequently shedding tears. 
 
 At the end of the sermon, when Cole advised him 
 to m.ake a confession of his faith, and give the world, 
 satisfaction of his dying a good catholic, he first pray- 
 ed in the most fervent manner, then made an exhort- 
 ation to the people, not to set their minds on the 
 world, to love each other and to be charitable. Af- 
 ter this, he made a confession of his faith, beginning 
 with the creed, and concluding with these words : 
 "And I believe every word and sentence taught by 
 our saviour, Jesus Christ, his apostles and prophets, 
 in the Old and New Testatament. And now,*' added 
 he, " I come to the great thing that so much troubleth 
 Kiy conscience, and that is setting abroad a writing, 
 imder my own hand, contrary to the truth, which I 
 thought in my heart ; and written for fear of death 
 and to save my life, if it might be ; that is, all such 
 bills and papers, which I have written or signed with 
 jmy hand, since my degradation, wherein 1 have writ- 
 ten many things untrue. And, forasmuch as my 
 hand oflended, in writing contrary to my heart, my 
 hand shall first be punished -, for, when 1 come to 
 the fire, it shall he burned first. As for the Pope, I 
 refuse him, as Christ's enemy and Antichrist, with 
 all his false doctrines." 
 
 Thunderstruck with this unexpected declaration, 
 the enraged popish crowd admonished him not to 
 <iissemble : " Ah !'* replied he, ■' since I lived, hither- 
 to, 1 have been a hater of falsehood, and a lover of 
 simplicity, and never before this time, have I dis- 
 sembled :" upon which, they pulled him off the stage. 
 
DICTIONARY. 147 
 
 with the greatest fury, and hurried him to the place 
 of execution, over against Baliol college, where he 
 was fastened with a chain to the stake. Some press- 
 ing him to agree to his tormer recantation, he answer- 
 ed, shewing his hand, " This is the hand that wrote 
 it, and, therefore, it shall first suffer punishment." 
 When fire was applied to him, he stretched out his 
 right hand into the flames, and held it there, unmov- 
 ed, crying, with a loud voice, " This hand hath of- 
 fended j" and often repeating, " This unworthy right 
 hand/' At last, the fire getting up, he soon expir- 
 ed, with his eyes fixed to heaven, exclaiming, 
 " Lord Jesus, receive my spirit." 
 
 He was an open, generous and honest man; a 
 lover of truth, and an enemy of falshood and super- 
 stition ; he was gentle .and moderate in his temper, 
 and, though heartily zealous in the cause of the Re- 
 formation, yet a friend to the persons of those, who 
 most strenuously opposed it. He was a great patron 
 of learning and of the universities: a very learned 
 man himself, and author of a number of publications, 
 most of which are written in vindication of the essen- 
 tial doctrines of the Protestant religion. 
 
 CRICHTON (JaxMes,) was a Scotch gentleman,, 
 born, as it is supposed, in the year 1560, who, on ac- 
 count of his extraordinary endowments of body and 
 mind, obtained the appellation of the Adinirahle Crick- 
 ton, by which title he has continued to be distin- 
 guished down to the present day. The accounts 
 given of his abilities and attainments are indeed so 
 wonderful, that they seem scarcely to be credible^ 
 and many persons have been disposed to consider 
 them as almost entirely fabulous, though they have 
 been delivered with the utmost confidence and with- 
 out any degree of hesitation, by various authors of es- 
 tablished veracity. 
 
 He is said to have received his grammatical educa- 
 
1"4^ KEW BIOGRAPHICAIr 
 
 tion at Perth, and to have studied philosophy in thaj' 
 university of St. Andrev^' ; v;e are likewise, told that 
 when he had scarcely attained his twentieth year, he 
 had run through the v\hole circle of the sciences and 
 could speak and write to perfection in ten different 
 ]anf cages. Nor was this all : for he had, likewise, 
 improved himself, to the highest degree, in riding, dan- 
 cing and singing, and in playing upon all sorts of mu-r 
 bical instruments. 
 
 Thus accomplished, Crichton went abroad, and is 
 said to have gone to Paris ; where he caused placards 
 fobe fixed on all the gates of the schools, halls and col- 
 leges belonging to the university, and en all the hous- 
 es, of the most renowned men for literature in the city^ 
 inviting all ihose, who were well versed in any art 
 or science to dispute with him in the college of Na- 
 varre, that day six weeks, by 9 oVlock in the morning, 
 vvh^re he w^ould attend them and be ready to answer 
 to whatever should be proposed to him in any art or 
 science and in any of <he 12 languages, Hebrew, Sy- 
 riac, Arabic, Greek, Latin, Spanish, French, Italian, 
 English, Dutch, Flemish and Sclavonian : and this 
 cither in verse or prose, at the <liscretion of the dis- 
 putant. 
 
 During this whole time, instead of closely applying 
 to his studies, he regarded nothing but hunting, hawk- 
 ing, tilting, vaulting, riding, tossing the pike, hand- 
 ling the musket, and other n:iilitary feats ; or else he 
 employed himself in domestip games, such as balls, 
 concerts of nmsic, cards, dice, &c. This conduct so 
 provoked the students of the university, that under 
 the placard, which was fixed on the Navarre gate, 
 they caused the following words to be j^laced : *^ If you 
 would meet with this miOnster of pertection, to make 
 search for him either in the brothel or tavern, is the 
 surest way to find him." Nevertheless, when the day 
 appointed arrived,Crichton appeared in the college of 
 Navarre, and acquitted himself beyond expression in 
 the disputation^ which lasted from 9 o'clock in the 
 
f>ICTIONARY. 149 
 
 triorning, till 6 at night. At kngth the president, 
 after extolling him highly tor the many rare and excel- 
 lent endowments, which the z\lmighty had bestowed 
 upon him, rose from his chair and accompanied by 
 four of the most eminent professors of the university- 
 gave him a diamond ring as a testimony of theiresteem. 
 The whole ended with the repeated acclamations of 
 the Spectators, and henceforward our young dispu- 
 tant was called the Admirable Crichton, It is added, 
 that he was so little fatigued with the dispute, that 
 he went, the very next day to the Louvre, where he 
 had a match of tilting, and in the presence of some 
 of the French princes, and a number of spectators, 
 carried away the ring 15 times successively. 
 
 About two years after this, we find him at Rome, 
 where he affixed a Latin placard upon all the eminent 
 places Of the citv, in the following terms, " 1 James 
 Crichton a Scotchman, will answer any question, 
 which shall be proposed to me, without being pre- 
 viously advertised of it." In a city which abounds 
 in wir, this bold challenge could not escape the ridi- 
 cule of a pasquinade. It is said, however, that be- 
 ing nowise discouraged, he appeared at the time and 
 place appointed ; and, thatp in the presence of thr 
 Pope, many cardinals, bishops, doctors of divinity, 
 . and professors in all the sciences, he displayed such 
 wonderful proofs of his universal knowledge, that he 
 excited no less surpiise than he had done at Paris. 
 
 From Rome he went to Venice, where he contract- 
 ed an intim.ate friendship with all the most learned 
 men, to whom he presented several poems in commen- 
 dation of the city and university. At length, he was 
 introduced to the Doge and Senate, in whose pre- 
 sence he made a speech, which was accompanied with 
 I such eloquence, and grace of person and manner, that 
 he received the thanks cf that illustrious body ; and 
 nothing was talked of through the whole city, but 
 ! this prodigy of nature. He held, likewise, various dis- 
 putations on theology and mathematics, in which he 
 
150 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 always supported his credit, and maintained his pro- 
 positions with the highest applause from a vast con- 
 course of people. 
 
 After having distinguished himself in this manner 
 at Venice, and afterwards at Padua, he set out for 
 Mantua, where there was, at that time, a gladiator, 
 who had foiled, in his travels, the m.ost famous fen- 
 cers in Europe, and had lately killed three persons, 
 who had entered the lists with him in that city. — 
 The Duke of Mantua was much grieved, at having 
 granted this man his protection, as he found it to be 
 attended with such fatal consequences. Crichton be- 
 ing informed ot his Highnesses concern, offered his ser- 
 vice, not only to drive the murderer from Mantua but 
 from Italy, and to fight him for a large sum of money. 
 Though the Duke was unwilling to expose such an 
 accomplished gentleman to so great a hazard, yet, re- 
 lying upon the report he had heard of his warhke at- 
 chievements, he agreed to the proposal, and the time 
 and place being agreed on, the whole court attended 
 to behold the event. At the begining of the combat, 
 Crichton stood only upon his defence, while the Ital- 
 ian made his attack with such eagerness and fury, that 
 Jiaving over-acted himself, he began to grow weary. 
 Our young Scotchman now siezed the opportunity of 
 attacking his antagonist, which he did with so much 
 dexterity, and vigour, that he ran him through the bo- 
 dy in three different places, of which wounds he im- 
 mediately died. The acclamations of the spectators 
 were loud upon this occasion ; and it was acknow- 
 ledged by all, that they had never seen art assist 
 nature, nor nature second the principles of art in so 
 lively a manner, as they had beheld that day. To 
 crown the glory of the action, Crichton bestowed the 
 prize of his victory upon the widows of the three per- 
 sons, who had lost their lives in fighting with the gla- 
 diator. 
 
 It is asserted, that, in consequence of this and his 
 other wonderful preformances, the Duke of Mantua 
 
DICTIONARY. 151 
 
 Blade choice of him as preceptor to his son, Gonzaga, 
 who is represented to have been a young man of a 
 riotous temper and dissolute life. The appointment 
 was highly pleasing, to the court. Crichton to testify 
 his gratitude to his friends and benefactors, and to 
 contribute to their diversion, framed a comedy, where- 
 in he exposed and ridiculed all the weaknesses and 
 failures of the several employments, in which men are 
 engaged. This composition was regarded as one of 
 the most ingt^nious satires which ever was made upon 
 mankind. But the most astonishing part of the story 
 is, that Crichton sustained, with great success, fifteen 
 characters in the representation of his own play. 
 
 From, being the principle actor in a comedy, Crich- 
 ton soon became the subject of a dreadful tragedy. — 
 One night during the Carnival, as he was walking 
 along the streets of Mantua, and playing upon his 
 guitar, he was attacked by six men in masks, The 
 assailants found, that they had no ordinaiy person to 
 deal with, for they were not able to maintain their 
 ground against him. In the issue, the leader of the 
 company being disarmed, pulled off his mask, and 
 begged his life, telling him, that he was the Prince, 
 his pupil. Crichton immediately began to apologize 
 for the mistake, alledging, that what he had done, was 
 only in his own defence, and that if his highness had 
 any design upon his life,he might always be master of 
 it. Then taking his own sword by the point, he pre- 
 sented it to the Prince, who instead of rewarding him 
 for his generosity, instantly ran him through the heart. 
 Various have been the conjectures, concerning the 
 motives, which could induce Gonzaga, to the com- 
 mission of so brutal and ungenerous an action. Some 
 have ascribed it to jealousy, asserting that he sus- 
 pected Crichton to be more in favor than himself with 
 a lady, whom he passionately loved, whilst others re- 
 present the whole transaction as the result of a drun- 
 ken frolic. It is, however, agreed, on all hands that 
 the Admirable Crichton, whom all the historians agree 
 
152 KEW BlOGRAPHICAi; 
 
 in representing as the wonder of the age, lost his life 
 in this unworthy manner. 
 
 His tragical end excited universal lamentation. — ■ 
 The whole court of Mantua went three quarters of a 
 year into mourning for him, and the report of so sad 
 catastrophe excited the most poignant regret through 
 every part of Europe. His death happened in loSS, 
 when he was only in his 23d, year. 
 
 CROMWELL (Oliver), Lord Protector of the 
 commonwealth of England, and one of the most ex- 
 traordinary personages mentioned in history, was the 
 son of Mr. Robert Cromwell of Hinchinbrook, in the 
 county of Huntingdon, by a lady of the name ot Stu- 
 art, by some, said to have been descended from the 
 Royal Family. Oliver was born in the parish of St. 
 John, Huntmgdon, on the 25th of April 1599 and ed- 
 ucated at the free school of that tov/n. It is related 
 by authors of unsuspected veracity, that when at school 
 he gave many signs of a turbulent and restless dispo- 
 sition. He is also said, from his early years, to have 
 been subject to great disorders of imagination, from 
 which he was not altogether free durmg his whole 
 life. 
 
 From Huntingdon, he was removed to Sidney col- 
 lege, Cambridge, in 1616, but his father dying in 
 about two years after, he returned home, where the 
 irregularity of his life is said to have given great unea- 
 siness to his mother. His dissipation,however,could be 
 but of short continuance, for he was married before 
 he was 21 years of age, soon after which he returned 
 to the country, near Fluntingdon, where he led a ve- 
 ly grave and sober life. Here he continued, till an 
 estate of about 2,500 Dollars per-annum devolving 
 upon him, by the death of his uncle Sir Thomas -Stu- 
 art, induced him to retire to the isle of Elly. It was 
 about this time, that he began to fall off from the esta- 
 tlished church, and to converse with the Puritans^ 
 
 
DICTIONARY* 153 
 
 v/hose notions he soon after embraced with his usual 
 Warmth. He was also elected a member of the 3d 
 parliament of King Charles I. which met on the 20th 
 January 1628 ; and was a member of the committee 
 for religion, where he greatly distinguished himself by 
 his zeal against popery. 
 
 After the dissolution of that parliament, he return- 
 ed again into the country, where he continued to ex- 
 press much concern for religion, to keep company with 
 silenced ministers and to invite them often to lectures 
 and sermons at his house. Thus he brought his af- 
 fairs again into a very indifferent situation, so that 
 by way of reparring the breaches he had made in his 
 fortune, he took a farm at St. Ives, which he kept 
 five years ; but which instead of repairing, helped to 
 run out the remainder of it, and had totally undone 
 him, if he had not thrown it up. Chagrined at last with 
 his various disappointments, and the injurious treat- 
 ment to which his party was then subjected, he form- 
 ed the resolution of removing to New-England, and 
 had actually engaged for his passage in 1637. He 
 was, however, prevented from putting his design into 
 execution, by the King*s proclamation, which was is- 
 sued, at that very time, prohibiting such emigrations. 
 So that by this stretch of arbitary power, Cromwell, 
 who, not long after overthrew the regal authority, was 
 compelled to remain in England, contrary to his in- 
 clination. 
 
 Although, during the ensuing year, his private af- 
 fairs continued still to decline, yet he was so fortu- 
 nate as to get himself elected as representative in the 
 long parliament, for the town of Cambridge, and 
 owed his seat chiefly to the influence of one Richard 
 Tims a tradesman, with whom he had become inti- 
 mate in the puritanical meetings, which he constantly 
 frequented, and where he had most eminently dis- 
 tinguished himself by his gifts, as they were stiled in 
 those days, in preaching, praying, and expounding 
 ihe scriptures. 
 
 Vol.11. No. 11. U 
 
154^ NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 When he came into parliament, he was 
 constant in his attendance, and a frequent speaker, 
 though he did not, at that time, discover any of the 
 great qualities, which afterwards appeared, and 
 which seem to have been called out as occasion re- 
 quired. He affected not only plainness, but careless- 
 ness of dress; was very uniform in his conduct, and 
 spoke warmly and roundly, but without either art or 
 elocution. He was very forward in censuring griev- 
 ances, both in church and state, though he had not 
 framed to himself any settled plan of reformation. 
 This he frankly acknowledged, with respect to eccle- 
 siastical affairs, when pressed by some gentlemen, to 
 declare his sentiments on that subject, ** I can tell, 
 says Mr. Cromwell, what I would not have, though 
 I cannot tell what I would have/' Thus, like too 
 manv of the reformers, who have existed since his 
 day, he was ready to pull down every ancient estab- 
 lishment, before he had bestowed a single thought on 
 the best mode of rebuilding them. He continued in 
 warm opposition to all the measures of the court, till 
 the beginning of 1642, when the king and parlia- 
 ment came to an open rupture. On this occasion, 
 Cromwell shewed his activity, by going immediately 
 to Cambridge, where he soon raised a troop of horse^ 
 of which he was appointed commander. He fixed 
 his head quarters there, where he acted with great 
 severity, especially towards the university, after he 
 had missed seizing the plate, contributed by the loyal 
 colleges for the king's service, and which they had, 
 at that very time, sent down to him at Nottingham, 
 where he had erected his standard. He was more 
 successful in his next enterprize; for, being inform- 
 ed, that the king had issued his writ to Sir Thomas 
 Coningsby, sheriff of Hertfordshire, requiring him to 
 proclaim the Earl of Essex, and his adherents, trai- 
 tors, Cromwell marched with his troop directly to St. 
 Albans, where he seized Sir Thomas for that action, 
 and carried him prisoner to London. For this ex- 
 
DICTIONARY. 155 
 
 pioit, he received the thanks of parliament, and was 
 ajoon after promoted to the con\mand of 1000 horse, 
 with the title of colonel. It is very strange, but 
 strictly true, that though Cromwell was in his 43d 
 year, when he first assumed the military character, 
 yet, in the space of a few months, he not only gain- 
 ed the reputation of an officer, but really became a 
 good one j and still stranger, that by mere dint of 
 discipline, he made his new-raised men, excellent 
 soldiers, and laid the foundation of that invincible 
 strength, which he afterwards exerted with so great 
 success, to answer his own purposes. 
 
 The limits of our work will not suffer us to enter into 
 a detail of all Cromwell's exploits, in the course of the 
 civil war, we shall, therefore, content ourselves, v^th 
 mentioning, in a general way, some few of the most 
 remarkable, referring our readers to the histories of 
 England, for more particular information. In the spring 
 of the year 1643, he advanced v/ith his army into Lin- 
 colnshire, where he. did great service to the cause he 
 had espoused, by restraining the king's garrison at New^- 
 ark, by which he exceedingly increased his credit witli 
 the parliament. The Scots having been invited to Eng- 
 land by the parliament, it was judged requisite, that 
 the army under the Earl of Manchester and Cromwell, 
 who was now declared lieutenant general of the horse, 
 should join them, the better to enable them to reduce 
 York, which they had closely besieged. 
 
 This service was perforn-jed with great vigour and 
 diligence, more especially by Cromwell, v/bose friends 
 at Westminster, knowing that they might depend 
 upon him, took care to put as much \a his power as 
 they possibly could. In the battle of Marston-moor, 
 fought on the 3d July, 16 14, Cromwell's cavalry, 
 who were commonly styled Ironsides, changed the 
 fortune of the day, as that did of the war. He Vv^as 
 also, in the second battle, at Newbury, on the I7th 
 September in the same year, where, with his horse, 
 he so boldly charged the guards^ that his majesty's 
 
156 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 person had been In the utmost danger, had not the 
 old Earl of Cleveland preserved liis master's liberty at 
 the expence of his own. In the winter following, 
 when the debates in parliament ran higher than ever, 
 nothing but Cromwell's merit was talked of by his 
 party, some of whom blasphemously styled him " the 
 saviour of the nation." 
 
 In the mean time, the wisest men and the best pat- 
 riots saw very clearly, whither these excessive praises 
 tended, and that the nation might be made as sensible 
 in that respect as themselves, the Earl of Manchester 
 exhibited a charge against Cromwell in the house of 
 Lords, and Cromwell to be even with him, brought in 
 another against the Earl,in the house of commons. It is 
 true, that neither of these charges were prosecuted : yet 
 Crornwell and his friends carried their point, by bring- 
 ing in what was called the self-denying ordinance, 
 which excluded the miCmbers of both houses from 
 having any comm.and in the army, from which, how- 
 ever, Cromwell, on account of his extraordinary 
 inerit, was at first occasionally, and at last, absolute- 
 ly exempted. 
 
 From being Lieutenant General of the horse, he 
 became Lieutenant General of the army, after which 
 he still continued to distinguish himself by his milita- 
 ry successes. He shone particularly at the battle of 
 Naseby, June 14th, 1645, and also had his share, in 
 reducing the western counties, till upan the surren- 
 der of Exeter, April the 13th, 1646, he found leisure 
 to return to London. Upon taking his seat in the 
 house, thanks were returned to him in as strong terms 
 as words could express, and the prevailing party 
 there received from him such encouragement,as induc- 
 ed them to believe, that he was wholly at their devo- 
 tion. But in this they were mistaken ; for, while they 
 thought the lieutenant general was solely employed in 
 their business, he was in reality only attending to his 
 own. Thus, when the parliament inclined to disband 
 a part of their forces, after the king had delivered him- 
 
DICTIONARY. 157 
 
 sejf to the Scots, who had agreed to give him up to the 
 parliament, Cromwell opposed it vigorously if notopen- 
 ]y. For, in the first place, he insinuated, by his emi- 
 saries, to the soldiers, that this was not only the high- 
 est ingratitude towards those, who had so faithfully 
 fought the battles of parliament, but also a crying act 
 of injustice, as it w^as done with no other view than 
 to cheat them of their arrears. Seccondly, he procured 
 an exemption for Sir Thomas Fairfaxes army, or, in other 
 words, for his own , the general only having the title 
 whilst Cromwell had all the power, and the reduction 
 fell chiefly upon those troops, of whom he had good 
 reason to doubt, and upon whom the parliament 
 might have placed the greatest dependence. Thus he 
 dexterously turned to his own advantage, the means, 
 which w^ere, in truth, contrived for his destruction. 
 On the 12th of November 1616, the army marched 
 triumphantly to London, and in the beginning of the 
 February following, the Scots delivered up the king 
 who was carried prisoner to Holmby. At this time 
 Cromwell had a very nice game to play. What wore 
 the legal appearance of power, was evidently in the 
 hands of the parliament, in which the prcsbyteriaii 
 party was still prevalent, and, as the general Sir Thom- 
 as Fairfax was, likewise in that interest, it looked as if 
 the real power was also on that side. At the bottom how- 
 ever, the army, now taught to know their own strength 
 were in reality the masters, and they were entirely di- 
 rected by Cromwell, though they did not know it them- 
 selves. He saw the necessity of having a strong place, 
 and getting the King's person into their power, and he 
 contrived to do both without seeming to have a hand in 
 cither. Oxford was, at that time, in a good condition 
 and well supplied with artilery, upon wliich thearmv 
 seitred it w^ith the magazines and every thing else, and 
 Cromwell, then at London, prevailed upon a cornet 
 Joyce, to seize the king's person, not only without 
 the orders of general Fairfax, but even without any 
 orders at all, except those verbal instructions from 
 
i58 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 Cromwell. This was executed, June 4ih 1647, aU 
 though the parliament's commissioners were then with 
 the,^ing, who was conducted from Holmby to the 
 army's head-quarters at Childersley, in Cambridge- 
 shire. Here, through the management of Cromwell 
 the king was treated with so great reverence and civi- 
 lity, that, when general Fairfax, Vv^ho was displeased 
 at his being taken away, would have sent him back 
 again, under a strong guard, he absolutely refused to 
 move. 
 
 Soon after this, a new party sprung up among the 
 soldiers, under the titk of Levellers, who made no 
 secret of their hating both king and parliament, and 
 it was to save himself from those people, who, as he 
 was informed by Cromwell, sought his life, that the 
 king, on the 11th November, fled to the Isle of 
 Wight, after having, by the advice of Cromwell, and 
 his son-in-law commissary Ire ton, rejected the par- 
 liament's proposals. It would be foreign to our pur- 
 pose to enter into a minute detail of the various steps, 
 which Cromwell pursued, to aggrandize the power 
 of the army, at the expence of both king and parlia- 
 ment. His principal object was, to widen the breach 
 between them as far as possible; but notwithstand- 
 ing his utmost efforts to prevent it, the Commons set 
 on foot a personal treaty with the king, at the Isle of 
 Wight iu Sept. 1648, and soon after, voted his majes- 
 ty's concessions satisfactory. An attempt was also 
 made to impeach Cromv/ell of high treason. But 
 the army being greatly displeased at these proceed- 
 ings, on November the 20th, sent a remonstrance to 
 the house of Commons, disapproving all they had 
 done, and in the mean time. Colonel Ewers prc>ceed- 
 cd to the Isle of Wight, where he seized the per- 
 son of the king, and on the 1st December following, 
 lodged him in HurdcastJe, where he was closely 
 confined. This was highly resented by the parliament, 
 who commanded the general to recall his orders; but, 
 instead of this, the army marched immediately to 
 
DICTIONARY. 15^ 
 
 London, purged the house of Commons, that is, turn- 
 ed out those members, whose sentiments they did not 
 approve of, and compelled the rest to do what they 
 pleased. In most of these proceedings, Cromwell 
 appeared very active, and is, with good reason, be- 
 lieved to have directed them all. 
 
 It is not necessary to dwell upon those particularly 
 well known circumstances, relating to the king's 
 trial, and to the sentence of death passed upon him, 
 since the part Cromwell acted therein was open and 
 public. He sat in the court, he signed the warrant, 
 and he prosecuted the accomplishment of it, till the 
 execution of the king, which took place on the SOth^ 
 January, 1649. When the first proposition was made 
 in the house of Commons for trying the king, he said, 
 that " if any man moved this upon design, he should 
 think him the greatest traitor in the world, but since 
 providence and necessity had cast them upon it, he 
 should pray God to bless their councils, though he 
 was not provided, on the sudden, to give them coun- 
 sel.'* Soon after, however, he was at no loss how 
 to act, for being a great pretender to revelations, he 
 gravely told them, that as he was praying to God for 
 a blessing from him, on his undertaking to restore 
 the king to his pristine majesty, his tongue cleaved 
 to the roof of his mouth, and that he could not speak 
 one word more, which he considered as a return of 
 prayer, that God had rejected him from being king. 
 Many applications were made to Cromwell, for sav- 
 ing the king's life, but he rejected them all, under 
 the specious pretext, that God had ordered his death. 
 
 The governmiCnt being now entirely changed, for 
 in five days after the death of the king, the house of 
 T^rds was voted useless, it became necessary to 
 think of some expedient for managing the executive 
 power. It was, therefore, resolved to set up a coun- 
 cil of State, of which John Bradshaw was president, 
 and Cromwell a principal member. But before he 
 had well taken possession of this new dignity, he 
 
160 NEW BIOGRAPHICAl 
 
 found himselt placed in circumstances, at least as 
 hazardous, as any in which he had hitherto been con- 
 cerned. The persons he had to engage with, were 
 part or the otncers of his own army, who, being dis- 
 satistied, expressed their sentiments in a remonstrance, 
 which they presented to the general. For this hei- 
 nous offence, they were tried by a court martial, and 
 sentenced to ride with their faces to their horses tails, 
 at the head of their respective corps, w^ith a paper ex- 
 pressing their crime lixed on their backs, after which 
 their swords were to be broke over their heads, and 
 themselves cashiered, every circumstance of which 
 was strictly executed. This, however, served only 
 to increase the Hame, for several regiments of horse, 
 and among the rest his own, mutinied, put white 
 cockades in their hats, and appointed a redezvous at 
 A\ are, where Cromwell appeared, at the head of 
 some regiments, on w honi he could fuiiv depend, at 
 a time, when he was least expected. Here without 
 any previous expostulations, he, with two regiments 
 of horse, surrounded one regiment of the mutineers, 
 and caliinsr four men bv name out ot the ranks, obli^- 
 ed them to cast dice tor their lives, and gave orders 
 to the two, who escaped, to shoot the others, with 
 which they immediately complied. By these and 
 some other examples equally decisive, he soon reduc- 
 ed the disafiected to a state of complete subordination, 
 and returned to the city of London, where he was re- 
 ceived with the highest honours. At this time, Eng- 
 land being totally subdued, Cromwell, in August 
 164:9, etnbarked with an army for Ireland, where his 
 successes were attended with so few disappointments, 
 that, by the month of June 1650, he had, in a great 
 measure, subdued it. His presence being then neces- 
 sary in England, after having appointed Ireton as his 
 deputy, he took shipping for Bristol, where, after a 
 dangerous passage, he safelv arrived, leaving such a 
 terror upon the minds of the Irish, as made every 
 
DICTIONARY. IGl 
 
 thing easy to those who succeeded him, and com- 
 pleted the conquest of the country. 
 d-T'Soon after his return to London, the Scots being 
 determined to restore monarchy, in the person of 
 Charles II. whom they had recalled from abroad, 
 were making preparations to invade England. On 
 this emergency, Cromwell was appointed general 
 and commander in chief of all the forces of the 
 commonwealth, and dispatched with an army to 
 Scotland, where on the 3d September, he gained the 
 victory at Dunbar, than Vv'hich, none ever did him 
 greater credit as a commander. 
 
 During his stay in Scotland, he was extremely de- 
 sirous to gain over the Presbyterians, whom he clear- 
 ly perceived to be adverse to his ambitious designs, 
 and as the following may serve as a specimen of the 
 means he had recourse to, to effect his purpose, we 
 presume it may prove acceptable to our readers. A 
 clergyman of the name of Wishart, in one of the 
 churches of Glasgow, had the courage to inveigh 
 against the regicides, even in the presence of Crom- 
 well, surrounded by the obedient satellites of his 
 power. A general olHcer, who sat next to Cromwell, 
 enraged at the unceremonious freedom of the preacher, 
 asked him in a whisper loud enough to be overheard 
 by others, if he should shoot the old dog. " No,*' 
 said Cromwell, " leave him to me.'* After divine 
 service, Cromwell sent to invite the clergyman to 
 supper, when, instead of the severe reprimand he ex- 
 pected, he received Cromwell's thanks for the abili- 
 ty and zeal, which he had displayed in his sermon; 
 lamenting, at the same time, that his zeal, in some 
 respects, was not more under the guidance of know- 
 ledge. He then endeavoured to set Mr. Wishart 
 right, in several material particulars, in which he was 
 misinformed or mistaken. Supper being served up, 
 Cromwell rose, and, by way of a grace, poured forth 
 a long prayer, with his usual sanctimonious cant and 
 grimace. After sapper, he repeated the same phari- 
 Vol. II. No. 11/ X 
 
!6^ NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 saical farce, and in short, so dexterously did the arch- 
 hypocrite work on the good man*s honest simplicity, 
 that he went home quite convinced of the purity and 
 integrity of Crom weirs intention, and being a very 
 popular preacher, he contributed greatly to remove 
 the groundless jealousies and prejudices, as he now 
 thought them, which many of his countrymen enter- 
 tained against Cromwell and his party. 
 
 In the summer of 1651, Cromwell, after several 
 successes, forced the king into England, and block- 
 ed him up in Worcester. On the 3d September fol- 
 lowing, he attacked and carried the town, totally de- 
 feated the king's forces, and gained what he himself 
 called, in his letter to parliament, " T-hc crowning 
 victory." The king himself escaped with great dif- 
 ficulty, being obliged to conceal himself from his 
 pursuers, in the branches of an oak. 
 
 Cromwell, now finding his power uncontroulable, 
 began to meditate a bolder step, than perhaps had 
 ever before entered into the head of any man in 
 England. This was no less than to remove his mas- 
 ters, the long parliament, and to assume the whole 
 executive power, in his own person. Cromwell had 
 many conversations with the most intelligent of all 
 parties, on this truly important business, of which 
 we shall only relate the following, as it may serve 
 more fully to illustrate the principles by which he was 
 actuated. He, upon this great occasion, sent for 
 som€ of the most eminent London divines, as if 
 he had made it a matter of conscience to be deter- 
 mined by their advice. Among these, was the lead- 
 ing Mr. Calamy, vv^ho very boldly opposed the pro- 
 ject of Cromwell's single government, as being both 
 unlavv'ful and impracticable. Cromwell answered 
 readily upon the first head, of unlawful, and appeal- 
 ed to the safety of the nation being the supreme law. 
 *' But says he, Mr. Calamy, why impracticable r" 
 Calamy replied, " Oh I it is the voice of the nation ; 
 there will be nine in ten against you.*' " Very well. 
 
PICTIONARV. 163 
 
 says Cromwell, but it I should disarm the nine, and 
 put the sword into the tenth man's hand, would not 
 that do the business?" 
 
 Bat notwithstanding all this, hs like a consummate 
 dissembler, behaved in public, with great decency 
 and respect, towards that body of men, whom he was 
 contriving to remove. The whole winter of 1652 
 was spent in contrivances and cabals on both sides ; 
 by the friends of the parliament to support and main- 
 tain its authority, by their opponents to bring them 
 into such a situation, as to render the necessity of dis- 
 solving that assembly universally apparent. Matters 
 continued in this situation, till 23d April 1G53, whqn 
 Cromwell being informed, that the house were de- 
 bating on a bill, to continue themselves in power, till 
 the 5th November of the ensuing year, m^irched 
 directly with a party of 300 soldiers to Westminster ; 
 where, after having sat for some time, listening to their 
 debates, he started up of a sudden, ordered the 
 speaker to leave the chair, and told the house, that 
 " they had sat long enough, unless they had done 
 more good." Then walking up and down the house, 
 he cried out, " You are no parliament, I say, you 
 are no parliament," and stamping with his feet, bid 
 them for shame be gone, and give place to honester 
 men. Upon this, the soldiers entered and cleared 
 the house of all the members, after which, Cromwell 
 caused the doors to be locked, and proceeded to 
 Whitehall. And here it is worthy of remark, that he 
 covered this, as well as all his other most daring ac- 
 tions,! under the specious cloak of religion ; " for," 
 says he to the members. " I have sought the Lord 
 night and day, that he would rather slay me, than put 
 me upon doing this work." 
 
 The scene thus changed, the supreme power was 
 said to be in the council of officers again, who, after 
 a great deal of bickering amongst themselves, at last 
 agreed, that his Excellency should be Lord Protector 
 ot the commonwealth of Englaad* Scotland, and 
 
164 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 Ireland, and have the title of Highness. He was accord- 
 ingly invested therewith, Dec. 16th i653, in Westmin- 
 ster-Hall, with great solemnity ; and thus in his 54th 
 year, assumed th^ sovereign power, which he well 
 knevv hov/ to exercise with dignity. When he had 
 thus reduced the government into some order at least, 
 he applied himself with great wisdom and discretion 
 to the settlement of public affairs, both foreign and 
 domestic ; he concluded a peace with the states 
 of Holland and Sv/eden, he obliged the king of Por- 
 tugal, notvv^thstanding what had passed between him 
 and the parliament, to accept of a peace upon his 
 own terms ; and adjusted matters v^'ith France. As 
 to home affairs, he filled the courts of justice, with 
 the most able judges, and practised great moderation 
 with respect to religion, professing an unalterable resolu- 
 tion to maintain liberty of conscience. He also af- 
 fected to shew great zeal for justice, and caused the 
 brother of the Portuguese ambassador to be executed 
 for murder, 10th June 1654, in spite of the greatest 
 application to prevent it. 
 
 But notwithstanding the pains, which he took, ta 
 gain the affections of the people, he found a spirit 
 of discontent rising against him in all the three king- 
 doms, and his government so cramped for want of 
 money, that he was under an absolute necessity of 
 calling a parliament agreeably to a form, which he 
 himself had prescribed sometime before. On this 
 assembly, which convened on the 3d September 1654, 
 he exerted his utmost endeavours to render them sub- 
 servient to his will, but to no purpose ; so that find- 
 ing, at last, that instead of granting him m.oney, they 
 were disposed to take away his power, he sent for 
 them to Whitehall, where after a speech full of the 
 most bitter invectives, he dissolved them 23d Janua- 
 ry following. 
 
 The opening of the year 1655, proved but cloudy j 
 as the dissolution of Parliament had excited so great 
 indignation, that Cromwell found himself beset with 
 
DICTIONARY. 165 
 
 conspiracies on every side. He had, however, the 
 good fortune to discover them, before they could 
 be executed. Those of his most violent opposers, 
 he at first only imprisoned ; but at last finding his ene- 
 mies greatly increased in numbers, he had recource 
 to greater severity and put many to death, thus mani- 
 festing his determination to maintain his authority at 
 all hazards. In the spring of this year, was caried into 
 execution, that famous expedition, by which the pro- 
 tector hoped to make himself master of the Spanish 
 West-Indies, where though his forces did not succeed 
 in their main design, yet they made themselves masters 
 of Jamaica, which island has ever since remained one 
 of the most valuable appendages of the British dom- 
 inions. But besides this, the glorious successes or 
 Biake in the Mediterranean, and the great sums he 
 received from several powers for depredations com- 
 mitted by their subjects on the English merchants, 
 did much honor to the protector's government, and to 
 conclude the transactions of this year, it must be al- 
 lowed that how much soever, he might be disliked at 
 home, he brought the English name to a degree of re- 
 putation abroad, which it had never attained at any 
 previous period. 
 
 Though the war with Spain, under Blake's man- 
 agement, had brought nearly ten millions of dollars 
 into the protector's coffers, he still felt some wants, 
 which he judged nothing bu^ a parliament could sup- 
 ply; and having concerted more effectual measures, 
 as he conceived, for bending them to his will, than 
 had been practised before the last, he fixed the meet- 
 ing of that assembly, September 19tb, 1656. It met 
 accordingly ; but with a guard posted at the door of 
 the house, who suffered none to enter, till they had 
 taken the oaths, which Cromwell had prepared for 
 them, by which many were excluded. 
 
 In the spring of 1657, it plainly appeared what the 
 protector aimed at, by the vast pains lie had taken to 
 render this parliament obsequious to hisivill, for now 
 a kind of legislative settleiricnt \vas upon the carpet^ 
 
16(5 NEW EIOGRAPKICAL 
 
 in which a blarik was left for the supreme governor's 
 titJe, and a clause prepared to countenance the esta- 
 blishing something like peers, under the name of the 
 other house. At length, one Pack, who, in a high de-' 
 gree possessed the confidence of the Protector, moved 
 that the first blank should be filled up with the 
 word king. This was violently opposed by the army 
 members ; but w^as at last carried, as well as the clause 
 empowering him to create lords, and in this form,the' 
 petition was presented to his highness, who desired 
 time to consider it. The protector would, certainly, 
 have been glad to have been dignified with the title 
 as w^ell as the power of a king ; but finding that his 
 best friends and nearest relations w^ere averse from it, 
 he determined to refuse the honor, which he had 
 been so long seeking, and, therefore. May 8th, 1657, 
 told them, that he could not, with a good conscience, 
 accept the government under that title. The parlia- 
 ment, then, filled up the blank Vv^ith his former title ; 
 and his highness himself, that the pains, which he had 
 taken, might not be absolutely throwMi aw^ay, resolv- 
 ed upon a new inauguration, which was according- 
 ly performed, June 26th 1657, in Westminster-Hall, 
 ^'ith all the pomp and solemmity of a coronation. Af- 
 ter this, the house of Commons adjourned to January 
 20th following, in order to give him time to regulate 
 all things according to the new system., with a view 
 to which, he summoned his two sons, with a number 
 of others, to take their seats in the upper house. 
 This year he was extremely disconcerted by the ap- 
 pearance of a small treatise entitled, *' Killing, no 
 Murder,'* in which was shewn so plainly, that one 
 who had violated all laws, could derive protection 
 from no law, that Cromwell from that time, believed 
 him.self in continual danger. All attempts., how^ever, 
 to apprehend the true author, failed of success. 
 
 In the beginning of the year 1658, he was greatly 
 pleased at the hopes of being once at the head of an 
 assembly, somewhat similar to the ancient parlia- 
 
DICTIONARY. 167 
 
 ments of Fngland; and, pursuant to their own ad- 
 journaient, the Commons met on January 20th, as did 
 the other house also, agreeably to the summons of 
 the Lord Protector, who began his speech to the two 
 houses, with the pompous words ^* My lords, and you 
 the knights, burgesses and citizens of the house of 
 Commons, &c." But all this only shewed that his 
 administration was solely founded on military force : 
 for the ancient nobility would not resume their seats. 
 in such company as he had assigned them, and the 
 house of Commons would have nothing to do with 
 the new nobles in the other house. Thus, in less 
 than a fortnight, the new system was in a fair way of 
 being pulled to pieces, and this occasioned the pro- 
 tector on the 4th February following, to dissolve 
 them with great bitterness of speech, and sorrow of 
 heart; for, he now plainly foresaw that a regular es- 
 tablishment was impracticable. Some further de- 
 signs being discovered against him, he is said, from 
 that time, to have been wholly altered, and to have 
 become daily more reserved and suspicious; hence it 
 is, by no means improbable that he was the most 
 wretched, as well as the most powerful n:ian in Eng=- 
 land. 
 
 That he continued a complete enthusiast to the 
 very last, appears from his behaviour in his last sick- 
 ness. His disease, which was at first a slow fever, 
 brought on by the endless cares and anxiety of his 
 mind, soon degenerated into a tertian ague. In the 
 naorning after he had been persuaded to make his pri-* 
 vate will, he asked one of his physicians, why he 
 looked so sad ? and being answered, that so it be- 
 came any one, who had the weighty care of his life 
 and health upon him. " Ye physicians," said he, 
 " think I shall die ; I shall not die this bout, I am 
 sure of it. Do not think that I am mad, for I speak the 
 words of truth upon^surer grounds than your Gallen, 
 or Hippocrates furnish you with. God Almiglity 
 hath given that answer, not to my prayers alone, but 
 
168 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 also to the prayers of those who entertain a stricter i 
 commerce and interest with him. Go on, therefore, i 
 cheerfully, banishing all sadness from your looks, 
 and deal with me as you would do with a serving 
 man." His chaplains, and others of the godly, dis- 
 persed about the palace, had been praying to God 
 in his behalf, and unanimously brought this answer, 
 " he shall recover/' Nay, so far did their enthusiasm 
 carry them, that a public fast being kept at Hamp- | 
 ton court for his sake, instead of offering up prayers ' 
 for his health, they returned thanks to God, for the 
 undoubted pledges of his recovery. Though the 
 physicians, therefore, perceived his distemper increas- 
 ing every hour, they took no notice of his danger, 
 till it became necessary for him to appoint a succes- 
 sor, while he had any breath remaining. But being 
 then in a lethargic tit, he answered from the purpose; 
 upon which, he was again asked, whether he did not 
 name his eldest son Richard, and to this question 
 he answered, yes. Soon after, he expired, on the 
 Sd September, 165S, aged somewhat more than 59 
 Tears and 4 months. This day of September he had 
 always reckoned to be the most fortunate for him in 
 the whole year. A violent tempest, which immedi- 
 ately succeeded his death, was variously commented 
 on, by his partizans, as well as his opponents. 
 
 He was honoured with a very pompous funeral, at 
 the public expence, which in point of splendour, was 
 far superior to that bestowed on crowned heads. 
 Some have related, that his body w^as, by his own 
 particular order, secretly buried in Xaseby field ; 
 others, that it was wrapped in lead, and sunk in the 
 deepest part of tlie Thames, to prevent any insult 
 from being afterwards offered to it. But it seems be- 
 vond doubt, that his body was buried at Westminster 
 horn the following account of vihat passed upon the 
 order to disinter him, after the restoration, '' In the 
 middle isle of Henry Vilths chapel as the author 
 of the complete history of England tells us, at the 
 
DICTIONARY. 169 
 
 €ast end, in a vault, was found his corps. In the 
 inside of whose coffin, and upon the breast of the 
 corps, was laid a copper plate finely gilt, enclosed 
 in a thin case of lead, on the side whereof were en- 
 graved the arms of England, impaled with those of 
 Oliver, and on the reverse the following legend in 
 Latin, which we have thus translated, ^^ Here lies, 
 Oliver, Protector of the commonwealth of England, 
 Scotland, and Ireland, who was born 25th April 
 1599; inaugurated 16th December 1653, and died 
 3d September 1658.'* 
 
 Odious as Cromwell's reign had generally been, 
 yet many marks of public approbation were bestowed 
 upon his memory, such as the celebrated poems of 
 Waller, Spratt and Dryden, who, though the authors 
 lived to change their sentiments, will not fail to give 
 always a very high idea of the man. Cardinal Maza- 
 rine styled him ** a fortunate madman ;'* but father 
 Orleans substitutes, in its place, " a judicious villain " 
 Lord Clarendon calls him " a brave wicked man," and 
 Bishop Burnet is of opinion, that " his life and his arts, 
 were exhausted together, and that, if he had lived lon- 
 ger, he would scarce have been able to preserve his 
 power.*' Upon the character of so extraordinary a per- 
 sonage, different opinions will prevail; but, as we 
 have given an account of his life, to a considerable 
 length, we must leave our readers to determine for 
 themselves. 
 
 CROMWELL, (Richard) eldest son of Oliver, 
 and for a short time, successor to his father, as Lord 
 Protector of the commonwealth of England, Scotland 
 and Ireland, was born at Huntingdon, October 4th 
 1626. On the 27th of May 1647, he was admitted 
 into the society of Lincolns-Inn, where he did not dis- 
 tinguish himself, by the closeness of his application 
 or his ardent prosecution of legal knowledge. W^hca 
 that unfortunate monarch, Charles I. was condemn- 
 ed to death, Richard was so struck with the horror of 
 
 Vol. n. No.au Y 
 
170 NEW BIOOaAPHICAL 
 
 his approaching fate, that he threw himself on his 
 knees and pleaded the cause of fallen majesty; but, 
 Oliver was " made of sterner stuff,** than to be divert- 
 ed from his purpose, by the tears and entreaties of 
 his son. 
 
 His father has been censured for keeping him at a 
 distance from business, and for giving him no em- 
 ployments, but for this, perhaps there was not any 
 just ground. He married him to a lady, who brought 
 him a good fortune. He suffered him to pursue the 
 bent of his inclination, and to lead the life of a plain, 
 honest country gentleman, which, for a time, was 
 highly suitable to his own interest, as it seemed to 
 correspond with the terms of the instrument of go- 
 vernment, and, with the dislike which the Protector, 
 when first so called, had expressed of hereditary right. 
 When he had afterwards brought about a change of 
 affairs, he altered, at the same time, his conduct 
 towards his son, named him the first lord in the other 
 house ; resigned to him the Chancellorship of the uni- 
 versity of Oxford, and conferred upon him all the 
 honours he could. 
 
 Richard's accession to power, upon the death of 
 his father, Sd September 1658, was followed by every 
 apparent testimony of attachment and affection. His 
 power, however, was but of short continuance, for 
 tlie republicans getting the ascendancy, he was de- 
 posed April 22d 1659. To this he submitted with- 
 out a struggle, as he was unwilling to secure power 
 and exaltation by those perfidious and bloody acts 
 too successfully practised by his father. " I should 
 feel extreme concern," said Richard, in a confiden- 
 tial moment, " if the blood of a single man be shed 
 to retain a situation, which I wish to hold no longer 
 than shall be consistent with the public good, and the 
 wishcsof those I govern." 
 
 During his short protectorate, the fanatic preach- 
 ers, who enjoyed, or rather who fancied they had en- 
 joyed the confidence of Oliver, accused Richard of 
 
 n 
 
DICTIONARY. 1.71 
 
 neglecting the godly, and keeping company with the 
 prophane ; after reproaching them for their selfish 
 hypocrisy, and clapping his hand on the shoulder of 
 an associate, he concluded with saying, " and here is 
 Dick Ingolsby, though he can neither preach nor 
 pray, I would rather trust him than the holiest man of 
 your tribe." He also kept to the day of his death, 
 two large trunks full of the addresses presented to him;, 
 v/hen protector, which from the servile common place 
 cant, too generally adopted in such compositions, he 
 called the lives and fortunes o^ iho. people of England* 
 
 Immediately after the restoration of Charles II. 
 which happened 29th May 1660, as Richard was 
 sensible how obnoxious he must be to a monarch 
 who had come to take possession of the kingdoms, 
 which had for so many years been withheld from him, 
 and the sovereignty of which had been occupied by 
 the Cromwells, he judged it prudent to retire to the 
 continent, where he continued uicognito till the year 
 1680, when he returned to his native country. The 
 place which he had fixed upon for his residence was 
 Chesnut, in Hertfordshire, a village within 12 miles 
 of London, where he remained unmolested till the 12th 
 of July 1712, when he died, in the eighty sixth year 
 of his age, leaving several children, whose posterity 
 are still in existence. 
 
 There are numerous traits in the character of Rich- 
 ard Cromwell, which sufficiently prove, that he was 
 by no means deficient in power of intellect, although 
 he hath frequently been so described. It is more than 
 probable, hov/ever, that, had he been possessed of his 
 father's ambition, we should have heard no more of 
 the posterity of the royal martyr. 
 
 CULLEN, (Willi an) was born of respectable 
 parents, in Lanerkshire, Scotland, in the year 1709. 
 Having served a short apprenticeship to a surgeon 
 or apothecary, in Glasgow, he obtained the place qf 
 
173 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 asurgeon in one of the merchant vessels from Londc_, 
 to the West Indies ; but not liking that employment^ 
 he soon returned to his native country, where he 
 practised, for a short time, in the parish of Shotts,. 
 among the farmers and country people. Thence he 
 removed to Hamilton, intending to practise there as 
 a physician. 
 
 Whilst he resided near Shotts, Archibald Duke of 
 Argyle, made a visit to a gentleman in that vicinity. 
 His grace was engaged in some chemical researches, 
 which required elucidation by experiments, for which, 
 he then wanted the necessary apparatus. A gentle- 
 man then present, recollecting young Cullen, men- 
 tioned him as a person who could, most probably, 
 supply his wants. He was consequently presented 
 to the Duke, with whom he formed an acquaintance, 
 to which he was probably indebted for all his future 
 fortune. The name of Cullen having thus become 
 known, his reputation as a practitioner was soon esta- 
 blished in the neighbourhood. The Duke of Hamil- 
 ton had then for a short time, resided in that part of 
 the country, and having been suddenly taken ill, was 
 induced by the character w^hich he had heard of Cul- 
 len, to send for his assistance. The Duke was not 
 only beneficially aided by his science in medicine, but 
 amply gratified with his conversation. He according- 
 ly obtained for him a place in the university of Glas- 
 gow, where his talents soon became more conspicu- 
 ous. 
 
 During his residence in the country, be had form- 
 ed a connection with William Flunter, a man who 
 afterwards became eminent in his profession, and 
 who, at that time, was not in more afHuent circum- 
 stances than Cullen. They agreed to pursue their 
 studies together, and entered into a partnership as 
 surgeons and apothecaries, on condition, that alter- 
 nately, one should practice the business, while the 
 other might study medicine, in whatever university he 
 preferred. Cullen was allowed the first choice, and 
 
DIICTONARY. 173 
 
 went to Edinburgh. The next winter, Hunter chose 
 London for the same purpose. His excellence in 
 dissections and anatomical preparations, whilst he re- 
 sided in that city, was no sooner discovered, than Dr. 
 Douglass, a lecturer on anatomy and man-midwifery, 
 chose him for an assistant, and on the death of that 
 gentleman. Hunter succeeded him in both of his pro- 
 fessions. Thus was the partnership suddenly dissolv- 
 ed, but a friendly correspondence between these two 
 great men succeeded, which only terminated with 
 their lives. 
 
 When Dr. Cullen practised in the country, he be- 
 came attached to Miss Johnstone, the daughter of a 
 clergyman in the neighbourhood, and obtained her 
 hand in marriage. This lady, who was about his 
 own age, possessed in an eminent degree, the most 
 amiable qualities that adorn her sex. Though her 
 fortune would now be counted small, it was, at that 
 time, no contemptible acquisition in that country, 
 especially to one, whose situation in life was then so 
 confined. After having participated with him in his 
 various changes of fortune, she died in the summer of 
 1786, leaving behind her a numerous family, with her 
 husband, to regret her loss. 
 
 He had taken his degree of Doctor of physic, in 
 1740; and in 1746, was appointed lecturer in che- 
 mistry in the university of Glasgow, where he began 
 his lectures in the latter part of the same year. Now 
 his various talents and endowments were displayed 
 in a point of view that attracted the attention of the 
 students and rendered their pursuits more interesting 
 than ever they had been before. His practice as a 
 physician increased daily, and on a vacancy in 1751, 
 he was appointed by the King, professor of medicine 
 in the same university : an advancement, which still 
 more encreased his fame. 
 
 On the death of Dr. Plumber, professor of chemis- 
 try at Edinburgh, in the year 1756, he was unani- 
 mously invited to accept the vacant chair. Having 
 
174 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 accordingly resigned his employment at Glasgow, 
 began his lectures at Edinburgh, in the month of Oc- 
 tober, in the same year. On the appointment of Dr. 
 Cullen to the professorship, chemistry, which had be- 
 fore been disregarded, became the favorite study, and 
 his lectures were more frequented than any others, ex- 
 cepting those of anatomy. His success excited envy 
 amongst his colleagues. They framed a party of op- 
 position amongst the students, who misrepresenting 
 his doctrines, induced some men of the greatest emi- 
 Hence in the university to oppose a system, which 
 they knew only by report. Cullen no officious enquirer 
 into the opinions of others, and inattentive to what 
 might be said of his own, was regardless ot their ef- 
 forts: never was he heard to traduce the professional 
 character of any one, w^ho might have been thought 
 a rival, either as a professor or a physician. The en- 
 vy, which his abilities had created, and his contempt, 
 or rather disregard ot his opponents, contributed to 
 increase his reputation. He became more respected, 
 as he became more known. In his address, affable 
 and engaging, in his manners open and kind : and 
 in his conduct free from the least imputation of in- 
 terested views, he was the friend and companion of 
 every family, who had occasion for his medical abili- 
 ties : and they who had once employed him, could not 
 be satisfied, if they wanted a physician, without send- 
 ing for him again. 
 
 On the death of Dr. Alston, professor of medicine, 
 in 1763, the magistrates of Edinburgh appointed Dr. 
 Cullen to succeed him, with a request, that he would 
 finish a course of lectures, which his predecessor had 
 began. He consented, but instead of contenting him- 
 self with reading the imperfect copy, which had been 
 consigned to him, undertook a new course, which 
 was entirely his own. The number of students in- 
 creased and added to the popularity of the new pro- 
 fessor. An inaccurate copy of his lectures having been 
 printed, he thought it expedient afterwards to publish 
 
DICTIONART* 175 
 
 a new and more correct edition. The infirmities 
 of age increasing, he resigned his office in favor of 
 Dr. Black, who had been formerly his pupil. On 
 the death of Dr. Rutherford, who had long given lec- 
 tures on the practice of physic, Dr. Cullen and Dr. 
 John Gregory became candidates for the vacant 
 place. But previous to the time of election, the par- 
 ties agreed to a compromise. It was stipulated, that 
 each should give lectures alternately during their res- 
 pective lives : but that the survivor should retain the 
 class to which he should give the preference. The 
 arrangements having thus been made ; Dr. Cullen 
 delivered the first course of lectures in 1766, and 
 Dr. Gregory, in the year following, succeded him. 
 On the unexpected death of his colleague. Dr. Cullen 
 continued to give lectures till within a few months be- 
 fore his death : an event, which to the great regret 
 of his friends and family, happened on the 5th of Feb- 
 ruary 1790, and in the 82d year of his age. 
 
 His principle works are " Synopsis nosologise me- 
 thodicae, Edinburgh 1772, 2 vols. 8vo/' " Lectures 
 on the Materia Medica, London 4to.*' " First lines 
 of the practice of Physic 1776, 8vo." (this is said to 
 have produced him /.3000 Sterling, 13320 dollars.) 
 '* Institutions of Medicine, containing Physiology, 
 8vo." " On the recovery of drowned persons ;" 
 a treatise on the materia medica, 2 vols. 4to 1789 &c. 
 
 We shall conclude this article by observing, that 
 the death of this great man, was not only lamented 
 by the literati of that country which gave him birth; 
 but, likewise by men of science throughout every 
 part of the civilized world. In particular, wc recol- 
 lect, that on the 9th July after his death, an excel- 
 lent eulogium was delivered to his honour by Dr. 
 Benjamin Rush, of Philadelphia, at the request of 
 the college of Physicians of that city, who, together 
 with the medical graduates and students, assembled 
 upon that solemn occasion, to lament the loss, which. 
 
176 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 in common with ever friend to the sciences, they had 
 sustained by his death. 
 
 This great man was^ physician to his majesty for 
 Scotland, Fellow of the Royal College of Physicians 
 in Edinburgh, of the Royal Societies of London, and 
 of Edinburgh; of the Royal Society of Medicine at 
 Paris, of the Royal college of Physicians at Madrid, 
 of the American Philosophical Society at Philadel- 
 phia, &c. &c. 
 
 GUSHING, (Thomas) L. L. D. lieutenant gover- 
 nor of the commonwealth of Massachusetts, was born 
 in the year 1725, and completed his academical edu- 
 cation, at the university of Cambridge, in his native 
 state. 
 
 While he was very young, the town of Boston 
 called him to fill some of its most respectable offices, 
 and delegated him as its representative to the gene- 
 ral court. In this situation, his patriotism, his abili- 
 ties, and his faculty in dispatching business, led the 
 house of assembly to chose him their speaker, a place 
 which had for many years been filled by his father 
 with great reputation. While he was in the chair, 
 the contest with Great Britain ripened to a conclusion, 
 and the station he held not only called out his exer- 
 tions in the service of his country, but rendered him 
 knovt^n, wherever the cause of America was patron- 
 ized, and indeed throughout the European world. 
 Of the two first continental congresses, which laid a 
 foundation for the independence and happiness of this 
 country, he was a judicious and an active member,. 
 On his return to his own state, he was chosen a mem- 
 ber of the council, which then constituted its su- 
 preme executive. He was also appointed judge of 
 the courts of con»mon pleas, and of probate in the 
 county of Suffolk, which stations he held until the 
 adoption of the present state constitution, when he 
 
BICTIONARV. 177 
 
 was called to the office of lieutenant governor, in which 
 he continued, until his death. 
 
 Under arbitrary, or monarchical governments, a 
 man's being appointed to, or continued in an office, is 
 310 certain evidence of his being qualified for it ; but 
 in governments, free like ours, the appointment of a 
 person for a long course of years together, to guard 
 the interests of the people, and to transact their impor- 
 tant affairs, is the mostincontestible proof of his abili- 
 ties and his integrity. This observation was verified 
 in Mr. Gushing. He thoroughly understood the in* 
 terest of his country, and meant invariably to pursue 
 them. Very few men knew better than he, how to 
 predict the consequences of the public conduct — 
 to balance contending parties — to remove difficul- 
 ties — and to unite separate and divided interests. 
 His life was a state of constant exertion in the service 
 of his country ; its happiness was dear to him in health ; 
 it lay near his heart in his last moments ; and, while 
 he expressed a satisfaction in having honestly and up- 
 rightly, in every department he had filled, aimed at 
 doing right, he manifested the most tender solicitude, 
 for the peace and prosperity of America. 
 
 He was, from liis early youth, a professor of religion 
 and a serious and devout attendant upon its offices, 
 in public and private. The principles and motives of 
 the gospel lay with great weight upon his mind : they 
 had an evident influence upon his conduct in life ; they 
 dispersed from before him the terrors of death, and en- 
 abled him to look forward with calmness and compo- 
 sure, to a state of glory and felicity beyond the grave. 
 
 His reputation for serious religion induced the so- 
 ciety in London, for propagating the gospel in New- 
 England, to appoint him one of their commissioners, 
 which trust he discharged with fidelity and care. 
 
 A man, under the genuine influence of religion, will 
 be ever attentive to relative duties: and we disceru 
 more traits of his real character in this undress of life, 
 
 Vol.11. No. 11; Z 
 
17B NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 than we do, when he knows, that he is the subject of 
 strict observation ; and in this instance, his friends 
 will Join, in testifying his tenderness as a husband ; 
 his aifection as a father ; his fidehty as a friend ; and 
 his indulgence as a master. His manners were amia- 
 ble, and his conversation open, pleasant and agreea- 
 ble. He gave many proofs of his charity to the poor, 
 and his kindness to the orphan and the helpless. His 
 heart melted at the woes of others ^ and his heart was 
 open to relieve them. 
 
 It would be unjust to omit his great affection for 
 the university of Cambridge, where he received his 
 education. He sought for opportunities to do it ser- 
 vice ; and he never was happier, than when he ob- 
 served its prosperity, and could support its interests. 
 The university was grateful for his affection, and, in 
 leturn, bestowed upon him its highest honors. 
 
 Mr. Gushing ha<l a firm constitution, but was sub- 
 ject to the gout. It was this disorder, which depri- 
 ved his country of his abilities, at a time, when an 
 important change was agitating in her political fa- 
 brick. On the 19th of February, 1788, he was at- 
 tacked by the gout in his breast, and, on the 28th of 
 the same month, he died in the 63d year of his age, 
 having had the satisfaction to see the new federal con- 
 stitution ratified, by the convention of Massachu- 
 setts, a few days before his death. 
 
 DACjER, (Andrew) a French critic and philo- 
 loger, was born of protestant parents at Castres, in 
 Upper Lauguedoc, April 6th 1651. Having receiv- 
 ed the first principles of classical learning in that city, 
 he was afterwards sent to the university of Samur, 
 that he might finish his education under the celebrat- 
 ed Tanguy le Fevre, then engaged in the instruction 
 of his daughter, who afterwards became one of the 
 brightest ornaments of her sex. This gave rise to 
 that mutual tenderness, which a marriage of forty 
 
DICTIONARY. 179 
 
 years could not weaken. The Duke of Montausier, 
 governor to the Dauphin, hearing of his merit, put him 
 on the list of commentators for the use of the dau- 
 phin, and engaged him in an edition of" Pompeius 
 Festus,'* which he published in 1681. His " Ho- 
 race" with a French translation, and notes historical 
 and critical, in 10 vols, also came out in the same 
 year. The next specimen of his learning, was m the 
 edition he gave of " The 12th book of the ana^-o^i- 
 cal contemplations of St. Anastasius, upon the crea- 
 tion of the world, together with notes and a Latin 
 translation," which was published, at London in 
 1682. 
 
 His marriage with Mademoiselle le Fevre, which 
 happened in the year 1683, seems to have conside- 
 rably interrupted his literary pursuits, for we hear no 
 more of him till 1691, when he obliged the world 
 with a French translation of " The Moral reflections 
 of the Emperor Marcus Antonius, with notes." It 
 would be too tedious, nor would it be very entertain- 
 ing to our readers, to particularize all the publications 
 of this learned and truly voluminous writer. 1% shall 
 therefore suffice to say, that he translated,* in a mas- 
 terly manner, a great number of the most valuable 
 writings oi the ancients. 
 
 When the " History of Lewis XIV was finished 
 by Medals," in 1713, he was chosen to present it to 
 his Majesty, who, being informed of the pains he 
 had taken on that subject, settled upon him a mode- 
 rate pension for life, and about the same time, an- 
 pointed him keeper of the books in the king^s closet 
 in the Louvre. When that post was united to that 
 of Library keeper to the king, he was not only con- 
 tinned in the privileges of his place, during life, but 
 the survivance was granted to his wife, a favour, of 
 which there had never been an instance before. But 
 the death of Madame Dacier, in 1720, rendered this 
 grant, which was so honourable to her, ineffectual 
 He died Sept. 18th 1722, in his 72d vear, of an irl- 
 
180 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 ccr in the throat, which he did not think at all dan- 
 gerous, as he was present at the academy that very 
 evening. 
 
 He was a great promoter of virtue and learning, 
 and, if he was somewhat partial to antiquity, he is to 
 be excused, because he studied those writers among 
 the Pagans, who had applied themselves with most 
 success to the knowledge and regulation of the hu- 
 man mind. Considered in this light, Dacier is an 
 author highly to be valued, for he chose none but 
 useful subjects; devoted his labours only to works of 
 importan.ce ; and enriched the French language with 
 those remains of wise antiquity, which are most ad- 
 vantageous to the morals of mankind. 
 
 DACIER, (Anne) wife of the preceding, and 
 daughter of Tanguy Le Fevre, professor of Greek, 
 at Samur in France, was born in that city about the 
 end of the year 1651. She was about 1 1 years old,, 
 when her father resolved to give her a learned educa- 
 tion ; and the occasion of his taking such a resolution, 
 was this : while he was teaching one of his sons the 
 ludiments of grammar, in the same room, where Ma- 
 damoiselle le Fevre was employed with her needle, 
 she, as a person wholy unconcerned, occasionally sup- 
 plied her brother with answers to questions, which 
 yiizzlcal him. Her father discovering her talents, 
 tiom thence gave her a regular course of instruction, 
 and brought her up a scholar. In i672, her father 
 died, and the year following, she went to Paris, whe- 
 ther her fame had already preceded her. She was 
 then preparing an edition of " Callimachus," which 
 she published in 1674. Having shewn some sheets 
 of it to Mr Huet preceptor to the Dauphin, and to 
 "several other men of learning at the court, the work 
 was so highly admired, that the duke of Montausier 
 made a proposal to her of publishing several Latin 
 authors, for the use of the dauphin, which, though she 
 
©ICTIONART. ISl 
 
 rejected at first, she at last undertook^ and published 
 an edition of" Florus.'' 
 
 Her reputation being now spread all over Europe, 
 Christina, queen of Sweden, ordered her ambassador 
 at the court of France, to make her a compliment in 
 her name, upon which Madamoiselle le Fevre, sent 
 the queen a Latin letter, with her edition of Florus. 
 to which her majesty wrote an obliging answer, and 
 not long after sent her another letter, persuading her 
 to abandon the protestant religion, and making her 
 considerable offers to settle at her court. This, how- 
 ever, she declined, and proceeded in the task she had 
 undertaken, of preparing authors for the use of the 
 dauphin, in which she proceeded with so great acti- 
 vity and perseverance, that, previousto the end of the 
 year 1684, she had published no less than twelve vo- 
 lumes, several of which liave been repeatedly printed 
 in England, as well as France. 
 
 But, in the midst of all these various publications, 
 she, in the year 1683, found time to marry M. Da- 
 cier, with whom she had been brought up in her fa- 
 ther's house, from her earliest years. Soon after this, 
 she declared to her friends, the Duke of Montausier 
 and the Bishop ofMeaux, a design of reconciling 
 herself to the church of Rome; but, as M. Dacier 
 ■was not yet convinced of the propriety of such a 
 change, they thought proper to retire to Castres in 
 1684, in order to examine the points of controversy 
 between the Protestants and the Roman Catholics. — 
 They, at last, determined in favour of the latter, and 
 made their public abjurations accordingly, in 1685, 
 after which the king bestowed considerable marks 
 of his favour, both upon the husband and wife. — 
 She still continued to favour the world with nu- 
 merous publications, the most remarkable of which, 
 is " The Iliad of Homer translated into French, with 
 notes, in 3 vols. 12mo. i711, and her translation of 
 the " Odyssey," which she executed in the same 
 manner in 17 IG, and this, so far as we can find, v/as 
 
JS2 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 41 
 
 the last thing she published. She had two daughters 
 and a son, to whose education she paid the greatest 
 attention ; but the son died in the year 1694, and one 
 of her daughters became a nun ; the other, who ^i. 
 is said to have united in her, all the virtues and ac- 
 complishments of her sex, died at i8 years of age. 
 Her mother has immortalized her memory in the pre- 
 face to her translation of the Iliad. Madame Dacier 
 was in a very infirm state of health the two last years 
 of her life ; and died after a very painful sickness, 
 August 27th, 1720 aged 69. 
 
 Madame Dacier was a lady of great virtue as well 
 as learning, and remarkable for firmness, generosity, 
 equality of temper and piety. Like most persons 
 possessed of superior talents, she was, likewise, a 
 woman of remarkable modesty, so that she could 
 seldom be prevailed on to speak upon subjects of li- 
 terature. ■ 
 
 DAMPIER, (Captain William) a celebrat- 
 cd English voyager was descended from a res- 
 pectable family in Somersetshire, and born in 1652, 
 but losing his father, when very young, he was sent 
 to sea, where he soon distinguished himself, par- 
 ticularly in the South Sea. He associated himself 
 with one Captain Cook, in order to cruise against the 
 Spaniards, and on August 23d, 1683, sailed from 
 Accomac in Virginia for the Cape de Verde Islands. 
 After touching at several of them, he steered for th-e 
 streights of Magellan, but the wind being against 
 thern, they stood over for the coast of Guinea, and 
 in a few days, anchored at the mouth of Sherborough 
 river, where the ship's crew were hospitably receiv- 
 ed by the inhabitants. He then proceeded to the 
 South Seas, through the streights of Magellan; and, 
 arriving at the island of Juan Fernandez, took on 
 board a Moskito Indian^ who had been left in that 
 uninhabited place above three years before. After 
 
DICTIONARY. 185 
 
 Staying here about 14 days, they set sail, April 8th 
 1684, steering towards the line, off the islands of Pera 
 and Chili, took several prizes, and proceeded to the 
 Gallipago islands, and from thence to Cape Blanco. 
 On July 20th they sailed towards the island of Plata, 
 where they arrived on September 20th following. 
 Here they made a descent upon Paita, attacked the 
 fort, and took it with little opposition ; but finding 
 that the governor and inhabitants had quitted the 
 town and carried off their money, goods and provi- 
 sions, they set fire to it, and afterwards set sail for, 
 and attacked Guaiquil, but without success. 
 
 They now entered the Bay of Panama, with the 
 design of looking into some river, unfrequented by 
 the Spaniards, in search of canoes, and therefore, 
 endeavoured to enter the river of St. Jago, on ac- 
 count of its proximity to the island of Gallo, where 
 there is much gold, and safe anchorage for ships, 
 Dampier, with some others, ventured to row six 
 leagues up the river; but the Indians, at their ap- 
 proach, got into their canoes and paddled up the 
 stream, with so great expedition, as to render it 
 impossible for our navigator to get up with them. 
 They, therefore, returned the next morning, in or- 
 der to sail for the island of Gallo, and, in their 
 way, took a Spanish packet boat, sent with dispatch- 
 es from Panama to Lima, by v/hich they learned, that 
 the Armada being arrived from Spain, at Porto Bello, 
 waited for the fleet from Lima, which made them re- 
 solve to rendezvous amongst the King's or Pearl is- 
 lands, by which all the ships bound to Panama from 
 Lima must necessarily pass. On May 28th, they 
 discovered the Spanish fleet, but night approaching, 
 they only exchanged a few shot. The Spanish admi- 
 ral, by the artifice of a false light, got the wea- 
 ther-gage of them the next day, and came up to them 
 with full sail, which obliged them tc make a running 
 fight of it, all around the bay of Panama, and thus 
 their long projected design proved fruitless. Thej 
 
184 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 1 
 
 now sailed for the island of Quibo, where they found 
 Captain Plarris, and as their late attempt at sea had 
 been unsuccessful, they resolved to try their fortune 
 by land, by attacking the city of Leon, on the coast 
 of Mexico, which they took and burnt. 
 
 They how proceeded to the westward, till they 
 came to Guatulco, one of the best ports in the king- 
 dom of Mexico 5 and from thence to Cape Cerientes, 
 where they waited for some time, in hopes of meet- 
 ing with a galleon, of v/hich they had received infor* 
 niation. They continued cruising off this cape, till 
 January 1st, 1685, when their provisions being ex- 
 hausted, they were forced to quit their station to pro- 
 cure a supply, and vv^hile they were engaged in this 
 necessary business, the Manilla ship passed by them 
 to the Eastvi'ard. After this, they steered towards 
 Calefornia, and anchored in one of the Tres Maria 
 Islands. Dampier, having long been sick of a dropsy, 
 was here buried for about half an hour up to the neck 
 in sand, which threw him into a profuse sweat ; and 
 being afterwards wrapped up warm, and put to bed, 
 found great benefit, from this extraordinary remedy. 
 
 Their success in this part of the world having been 
 very indifferent, and there appearing no probability 
 of its mending, they shaped their course towards the 
 East-Indies, where, after having visited New-Hol- 
 land, and a number of other countries, they arrived 
 at Nicobar, where, by some accident, Dampier and 
 some of his companions were left on shore, and treated 
 with great civility by the inhabitants. Dampier, 
 however, contrived to leave his companions, and ar- 
 rived at the English factory at Achen, where, after 
 having resided for some time, he engaged with a 
 captain Weldon, under whom he made several trading 
 voyages for upv^'ards of fifteen months, and after- 
 wards entered as a gunner to an English factory at 
 Bencoolen. Upon this coast, he staid till ]691, and 
 then embarked for England, when he was obliged 
 
DIGTIONARYo ISST 
 
 to make his escape through one of the port-holes, the 
 governor having revoked his promise of allowing 
 him to depart, when he thought proper. He arriv- 
 ed in the Downs, September 16th, following, 
 where, notwithstanding his active exertions in the for- 
 mer part of his life, he continued for some time in 
 indigent circumstances. He appears afterwards to 
 have been concerned in an expedition concerted by 
 the merchants of Bristol to the South Sea, command- 
 ed by captain Woodes Rogers, which sailed in Au- 
 gust 1708, and returned in September 1711 3 a voy- 
 age attended with many singular circumstances, and 
 a great number of curious and entertaining events. 
 His " Voyage round the world," is well known and 
 has gone through many editions. 
 
 D'AUBIGNY, (Theodore Agrippa) a French 
 Hugonot, and great favourite of Henry III. king of 
 Navarre was born in the year 1 550, and by uniting in 
 an extraordinary degree, military intrepidity, religious 
 fervour, and literary acumen, he alternately, vigor- 
 ously and successfully attacked his catholic oppo- 
 nents with the sword and with the pen. 
 
 D'Aubigny has left an account of his own life In 
 the interesting character of a parent, sinking under 
 age and infirmity, who, at the conclusion of a long 
 warfare, delivers to his children a spirited outline of 
 his adventures, accompanied with instructive com- 
 ment and pathetic exhortation. And, if we make 
 some allowance for the excusable egotism of a man, 
 who had performed many gallant exploits, and had 
 been an eye witness of, or a party concerned in the 
 great transactions of the day, this little piece of bio- 
 graphy is valuable, as an original picture of a tumul- 
 tuous reign, drawn by a character of a peculiar cast. 
 It describes honest pride, and incorruptible integrity 
 struggling with party perfidy, and polemic rancour, a 
 courtier boldly and openly avowing hostility to every 
 
 Vol. II. No. 12. A 2 
 
1^6 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 measure and every person however exalted, who at- 
 tempted to fetter the freedom of private opinion, im- 
 peach his honour or doubt his loyalty to Henry : for 
 he considered a strong attachment to the reformed 
 church, and unqualified opposition to court measures, 
 as fairly compatible with his duty as a soldier and his 
 fidelity as a subject. 
 
 From his infancy, he discovered the most uncom- 
 mon abilities ; for, at the age of six years, he is said 
 to have been able to read Latin, Greek and He- 
 brew ; and at seven to have translated " The Crito of 
 Plato," a work, to which he was incited by the pro- 
 mise of his father, that it should be printed with a 
 portrait of the juvenile translator prefixed. 
 
 The spirit of party as well as literary ascendancy 
 appears to have burst forth early in young D'Aubig- 
 ny, and the incident which first excited it, probably 
 impressed on his mind that constitutional antipathy 
 to the catholic religion, which was the leading fea- 
 ture of his character, and determined the fate of his 
 life. Riding with his father to Amboise, he remark- 
 ed the heads of several Hugonots, who had lately 
 been executed at that place, but, when he heard 
 that some of them were particular friends to his fam- 
 ily, he exclaimed " scoundrels and hangmen have 
 depopulated France 1" Actuated by similar zeal in 
 future life, whenever he commanded at the taking of 
 a town^ he always obliged the prisoners to make 
 the following addition to their capitulation, " renounc- 
 ing forever to all intents and purposes, the authority 
 of the detestable council of Constance." That coun- 
 cil, which had been held in 1514, had caused John 
 Huss and Jerome of Prague to be burnt, pursuant to 
 this maxim, *' that no faith is to be kept with heretics." 
 At the age of 13 he became an orphan ; "The good 
 old man," says our author, speaking of his father, ** re- 
 commended to me with his dying breath, three things 
 which I hope, I have not forgot -, the love of truth, a 
 
 1 
 
DICTIONARY. 187 
 
 ^eal (of religion, and an universal pursuit of know- 
 ledge." 
 
 As soon as it was understood, that a dissenter 
 might be injured with impunity, he was oppressed 
 as a sectary, and plundered as a minor ; but escap- 
 ing from a prison, in which he had been confined for 
 rash zeal or juvenile indiscretion, he was sent to fin- 
 ish his studies, at Geneva, and afterwards went to 
 Lyons. At the last of these places, he improved 
 himself in mathematics and in magic, " resolving at 
 the same time, to take no advantage of his know- 
 ledge of that mysterious art," an art, he might have 
 added, so dangerous at different periods to its profes- 
 sors, and so harmless to every one besides. 13at 
 whatever were his povi^ers or his attainments, they 
 were not sufficient to preserve him from poverty and 
 distress, to which the fraud of others, and his own 
 want of conduct had reduced him. Lively men, 
 when dejected, are said to be the most melancholy of 
 mortals : and the subject of our present article, who, 
 a short time before, had made more racket apd noise 
 than any mad-cap of the neighbourhood, resolved, the 
 instant adversity stared him in the face, to rid himself 
 of all sorrow by suicide. But previous to taking so 
 awful and unwarrantable a step, he determined un- 
 der the combined impulse of devotion and despair, 
 to ask pardon of his maker for the crime he was about 
 to commit, and fell on his knees near the banks of 
 the Saone. He was roused from prayer, by the trot- 
 ting of an horse over an adjoining bridge ; thinking 
 it his duty to try all expedients before he had recourse 
 to the last fatal one, and stimulated by revolting na- 
 ture, to catch even at a momentary respite, he hurri- 
 ed to the spot, and fortunately discovered that the 
 person on horseback was one of his relations. From 
 this gentleman, he received a supply of money and 
 good advice, neither of which he made a proper use 
 of; for he frankly confesses that his industry and ap- 
 plication to study considerably relaxed j that he dis- 
 
185 NEW BIOGRAPHICAI; 
 
 ]iked books, and was never easy out of company 5 
 that he had acquired the character of a facetious 
 companion in joyous circles ; a sporter of epigrams 
 and satirical repartee ; a mimic and a buffoon ; ac- 
 complishments, which we are so ready to join in and 
 admire, at the convivial table, although in the cool 
 hour of reflection, we dread and avoid the persons, 
 who possess them ; an axiom confirmed by daily 
 experience, which certain young men of strong ani- 
 mal spirits, in the glow of a second bottle, and pant- 
 ing for distinction as wits, will do well to recollect and 
 apply. With such tendencies, which had deranged 
 his finances, D'Aubigny entered as a volunteer into 
 the army, that last and common refuge for violent 
 spirits under pecuniary difficulties. Guyenne, Anjou, 
 Touraine, Normandy and Picardy were the scenes of 
 his provincial campaigns, in which the impetuosity of 
 youth hurried him into many imminent dangers, 
 while the flippancy of his tongue, and the eccentric 
 liveliness of his manners, attracted the notice and 
 sometimes the displeasure of his officers. 
 
 On a field day, as he was ridiculing and censuring in 
 his usual way, the aukwardnessof some of his associ- 
 ates, in which, though correct as to the matter in ques- 
 tion, he had neither authority nor right to interfere, 
 his talking and loud laughing were remarked by the 
 Prince of Conde, who demanded the name of that 
 forward and troublesome young man. On being 
 told, he recollected his family, sent for him, and, in 
 a good natured way, checking his intemperate vivac- 
 ity, asked the colonel, if he would spare his young 
 volunteer, "I will make your Royal Highness a pre- 
 sent of him with great pleasure," replied the com- 
 manding officer, glad to get rid cf an unmanageable 
 strippling. " A truce with making presents, my 
 good colonel," cried D'Aubigny in a characteristic 
 strain of youthful levity, " you may give away a dog, 
 or a hawk, a valet, or even a mistress, when you are 
 tired of her^ but young men of my metal are not ta 
 
DICTIONARY. 189 
 
 be disposed of, with so little ceremony." After thank- 
 ing the Prince for his kind intentions, he politely de- 
 clined his offer and retired. 
 
 In his twentieth year, he was introduced to Henry 
 III. as a young man, whom neither difficulty, dis- 
 tress, danger, hunger, thirst or cold would prevent 
 from doing his duty ; but as a drawback from this 
 recommendation, it was added, that he would not 
 bear restraint or opposition, and would, on every oc- 
 casion, and whatever the consequence, always speak 
 his mind. He escaped almost miraculously the mas- 
 sacre of St. Bartholomew 24th, August 1572, hav- 
 ing by accident, or from business, left Paris only a 
 few hours before that volcano of hell burst forth. 
 This dreadful tragedy of the unsuspecting and un- 
 armed protestants, was instigated by the bloody Ca- 
 tharine de Aledicis, and her son Charles JX. when, 
 by the united efforts of despotism and priestcraft, a 
 greater number of people perished within three days, 
 than have fallen in France, by the hands of the Scj)- 
 tembrisers, the anarchists and by the revolutionary 
 tribunals, during the whole course of the late repeat- 
 ed revolutions, in that country. This horrible busi- 
 ness appears to have made an indelible impression 
 on the mind of a man, who had so narrowly escaped^ 
 for after the peace of Paris, the king being desirous 
 of conversing with one, of whose gallant intrepidi- 
 ty he had heard so much, and from whose active op- 
 position the catholic cause had considerably suffered, 
 no entreaties could prevail on our protestant soldier 
 to wait on the tyrant, "I will never bend my knee," 
 he cried " to the approver, if not the director, of the 
 massacre of St. Bartholomew. 
 
 It was not long before our adventurer gave a spe- 
 cimen of the rudeness of his pen, by a sarcastic stan- 
 za on Henry's giving him a portrait of himself, for 
 services, which D'Aubigny thought deserved a more 
 valuable remuneration; this baggatelle penned in a 
 moment of rash irritation mav be thus translated; 
 
150 KEW BIOGRAPHfCAL 
 
 " Why for a thanlcless prince's good, \ 
 
 Do brother soldiers toil ? 
 
 When all he give us for our blood 
 
 Is canvas, paint and cil." 
 
 We cannot be- surprised, that such a return for an 
 intended kindness should offend the prince, and that 
 ]^e resolved to punish the author, who saved himself 
 by flight ; but at the moment of his departure, riding 
 boldly to the royal tent, he spoke as follows : " Such, 
 Sire, is your usage of a man covered with wounds, 
 and who has shed his blood in your service, and all 
 for what ? because he will not be a flatterer or a pan- 
 der. Permit me, however, before I take my leave, 
 to communicate to your Majesty, a necessary truth, 
 which many of these polite gentlemen, who so assidu- 
 ously attend your court, will not venture to tell, tho' 
 tliere is not a man amongst them, who is not of the 
 same opinion. You are scrupulously severe in re- 
 marking the faillts of your servants, but ungratefully 
 tardy in acknowledging or rewarding their real 
 merit." With these words he applied spurs to his 
 horse. 
 
 The banished courtier, with a few followers attach- 
 ed to his fortunes, immediately resolved on offering 
 his services to Prince Cassimir, son of the Elector 
 Palatine ; but on his journey, being struck with the 
 charms of a lady, as he passed through a country town, 
 his expedition to the Palatinate was thrown aside, and 
 for a time, his military ardour cooled. This Lady, 
 "who, upon enquiry, proved to be Susannah de Zeray 
 of the house of Vivonne, and a celebrated provincial 
 toast, was afterwards his wife, and is often praised 
 by him for obedience, a qualification of the utmost 
 importance to the happiness of D'Aubigny, whom 
 opposition appears to have always roused to an ex- 
 travagant pitch of fury and resentment. 
 
 And here we hope we shall be pardoned in ma- 
 king a small digression. With such spirits, it seems 
 the wisest and kindest part of friendship and affec- 
 
' l^-EW BIOGRAPHICAI. 191 
 
 tion, in irritable moments, to avoid discussing dispu- 
 table points, and to endeavor, if possible by diverting 
 the attention toother channels^, and by the fascinatioa 
 of female charms, to soothe and soften, rather than 
 fan the flames of discontent, by ill-timed appeals, and 
 unavailing expostulation, however reasonable and 
 just. Peculiar tempers should be treated like bodily 
 diseases, by abstinence, regimen and diet; and the 
 medical man, who would order a patient with v^^eak 
 ancles to run a race, or prescribe for a nervous, hys- 
 tefical woman, novels, tragedy and green tea^ 
 would surely deserve reprehension. To many of our 
 female readers,recommending condescension and sub- 
 mission, even when they are the party aggrieved, will 
 probably appear a mortifying lesson ; but the ad- 
 vantage it will give them in the cool hours of re- 
 flection, will make ample compensation for the sa- 
 crifice. A neglect or contempt of this apparently 
 trifling point, has, in a thousand instances, hurried 
 youth, beauty and accomplishments, to a life of wretch- 
 edness, whilst the plainest and most homely women 
 alive, without one attraction corporal or mental, by 
 attending to this, which, though no science, is, in 
 some cases, of more importance than them all, have 
 passed through life with ease, satisfaction and com- 
 fort. 
 
 But to return. Letters were, in the mean time, 
 , delivered to D'Aubigny from the king, which, affect- 
 ing the pride of injured worth, he threw, unopened, 
 into the fire. Mixing, however, a little worldly po- 
 licy with his resentment, he at last returned to his 
 master, after having received repeated assurances, 
 that his offences should be overlooked. But he soon 
 found, that, in his absence, the catholics had been 
 busy with Henry, who began seriously to think of ma- 
 king his peace, by abjuring his religion, a circumstance 
 which soon after took place. In this business, Mon- 
 sieur Seguier, a corrupted protestant was a powerful in- 
 strument, who strongly advised a removal to Paris, 
 
192 NEW BIOGRAPHICAI, 
 
 which D'Aubigny violently opposed, and, in the midst 
 of a warm conversation, in the royal presence, observ- 
 ing Seguier looking out of a window, he stepped up to 
 him and said, " Monsieur Seguier, do you perceive 
 a precipice from the window where we stand/' Yes, 
 replied Seguier, the most timid of mortals, " and a 
 tremendous one it is. I shudder and grow giddy only 
 with looking at it." I advise you then. Sir, to make 
 up your mind on the subject of the king's journey. 
 If he goes to Paris, myself and a score or two of 
 friends have resolved, that you shall take a leap from 
 this identical window." (Seguier drew back,) " You 
 need not doubt what 1 say, it will as certainly be the 
 case, as that God made Moses." 
 
 By this and other extravagances, Henry was again 
 offended, and sw^ore in a transport of passion, he 
 would destroy him. On such an occasion, most men 
 would have fled ; but he, who had reason to expect, 
 at least, who had merited punishment, knew whom 
 he had to deal with. As soon, therefore, as he was 
 apprized of the royal resentment, he rushed, with- 
 out previous notice, into the presence of the king, 
 who reproached and threatened him, as well for the 
 general offensive impropriety of his conduct, as the 
 present indecency of his sudden intrusion. " I am 
 come to know," said he, laying hold of the king's 
 hand, " what reward I am to meet with for my past 
 services ; do you wish to be considered by posterity 
 as a good prince, or a merciless tyrant .?" After a 
 long pause, during which sensibility and affection 
 triumphed over resentment, Henry replied, "you 
 know D'Aubigny I love you ; but what can be done 
 with Seguier, for you have offended him beyond the 
 powder of forgiveness ; pray try to make your peace 
 with him." "That shall be done in an instant," re- 
 plied D'Aubigny, who had seen Seguier, as he passed 
 the antichamber j " be so good Monsieur Seguier, 
 (at the same time opening the door,) as to inform his 
 majesty, what you have to aliedge against me s" with 
 
DICTIONARY^ 193 
 
 a significant look, and laying his hand on his sword, 
 unobserved by the king. '* Nothing in nature," re- 
 plied the minister, as he entered the room with a 
 low bow ; "I am convinced his majesty has not a 
 servant of equal fidelity, or a more valiant soldier ia 
 his dominions." Thus D'Aubis^nv, notwithstandins: 
 all his extravagances, was once more taken into fa- 
 vour. 
 
 ]5ut however, zealously Henry might wish D'Au- 
 bigny to follow his example, nothing could prevail 
 on him to abandon the protestant cause, a circum- 
 stance which rendered his continuance at court rather 
 unpleasant, for the king was perpetually teazinghiiii 
 to quit the reformed church. He, therefore retired 
 to the country, where he pas^d a whole winter in an 
 examination of the merits of the cause. *' 1 sat down 
 in good earnest, says he, and diligently perused the 
 works of Pangerole and Campion," (two eminent, 
 catholic writers.) *' I was pleased and almost con- 
 vinced by the strong arguments and methodic arrange- 
 ment of Bsllarmine ; but the well prepared poison of 
 the cardinal was effectually counteracted, by the 
 powerful arguments of Whitaker and Lambert." 
 But it is worthy of remark, that, howeyer the king 
 might profess to differ with D'x\ubigny, he could not 
 rest satisfied, during a severe illness without a long 
 religious conversation with him, in which he was par- 
 ticularly earnest to know his opinion, with respect to 
 the sin against the Holy Ghost. 
 
 As a firm resister of ecclesiastical oppression and a 
 protestant pillar, he attended their synod as a deputy, 
 and on a certain occasion was highly provoked by 
 the conduct of the President Canaye. D^Aubigny 
 answered, in aspirited manner, a virulent attack of the 
 president, on the conduct and tenets of the hugonots, 
 who thus interrupted him, " is the service of the king 
 and the good of the state to be forever disturbed ?" 
 *' And pray, Sir, who are you, cried D'Aubigny, who 
 pretend to instruct me in my dutv to the king ? I 
 
 Vol. II. No. 12, B2 
 
194 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 ^ 
 
 both knew and practised it, when you were a prating 
 boy, with a satchel at your back. Was it worthy of 
 your master, or did he think it the only business for 
 wh]chT/ou were qualified, thus to set the province in 
 a flame, by opposing a royal edict to the express 
 word of God ? Learn, young man, to be silent, and 
 attentive to the words of your superiors both in age 
 and ability, who have an independent, deliberative 
 vote in this assembly, and a right to dehver their 
 opinion on any subject/' " When and what am I r""! 
 exclaimed the astonished Canaye. " What are youP'^J 
 said D'Aubigny. You are a mouse, breaking yourj 
 teeth against a file.''' 
 
 But in spite of industry or zeal, the protestanfel 
 cause, from regal defection, and the corruption ol 
 courts, rapidly declined y for few like the subject of 
 our present article could resist the blandishments or' 
 the gold of the king. For this reason, and conscious-j 
 of their own sinister views, many of his party were 
 fearful and jealous, that D'Aubigny only waited like 
 themselves, till a sufficient bribe was offered. "What 
 is the meaning," said one, who was purchased, but 
 fancied it was not known, " What is the meaning of 
 Madame la Varenne making you so many visits? I 
 have seen her come out of your appartments, at least 
 a dozen of times." She has tried a dozen of times 
 to do that with mCy lyhich she accomplished with you> 
 at one visit, you rascal. 
 
 He would never kneel to Henry, for which, be- 
 ing reproached by the Duke de Viileroy, he answer- 
 cd, " I consider and treat his majesty as a king, but 
 will never pay him the adoration of a God." 
 
 The Duke of Buillon, whose esteem our protes- 
 tant hero had engaged for thirty years, was at length 
 offended, by the firmness of his religious principles, 
 though he had himself been originally arigidhugonot, 
 but softened by court manoevres. On a certain oc- 
 casion, he was advising the protesiants to give up- 
 their fortified towns, adding, that there was wo rea- 
 
DICTIONARY, 195 
 
 son to doubt of royal deniency, but that if it proved 
 otherwise, iheiYs would he the merit and glory of 
 martyrdom. We are infinitely obliged to the Duke/' 
 replied D'Aubigny " for his kindness, and are well 
 acquainted with the sufferings of those saints and 
 holy men, w^ho, in perilous and persecuting times, 
 died in the cause of truth; but I am surprised, that 
 a person equally devoid of religious truth, or political 
 sincerity, should venture to touch on such a subject. 
 The man, who like Judas, abandons his Saviour for 
 twenty pieces of silver, is an odious traitor; but he, 
 who is instrumental, or persuades them to part with 
 their safe-guard, from treacherous and blood-thirsty 
 men, is little better than an insidious informer, or a 
 common hangman." The Duke struck dumb with 
 truth, blushed, hung down his head and retired. 
 
 Becoming, at last, disgu-^ted with his countrymen 
 and the preponderance of catholic councils, he set 
 out for Geneva, where he was received with the 
 greatest honour, and, after all his dangers, breathed 
 his last in that land of Calvinism, in the year 1630. 
 
 Besides his Life, he left several other writings, the 
 most remarkable of which are his " Universal Histo- 
 ry," and his " Baron of Foeneste," a singular, but 
 entertaining work, in the form of dialogues, with 
 many sarcastic descriptions of the fashions, follies 
 and luxuries of the fine gentlemen of that day. 
 
 DAVENPORT, (Reverend John) one of the 
 settlers of Connecticut, was born in the city of Coven- 
 try, in Warwickshire, England, 1597. His father was 
 Mayor of that city. At the age of fourteen he was 
 admitted a student in the university of Oxford, where 
 he made great progress in learning and religion. 
 
 Whefi he was nineeteen, he became a constant 
 preacher in the city of London, from which period 
 he appears, upon all occasions, to have been actuated 
 
196 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 1 
 
 by the most laudable zeal of promoting the general, 
 welfare of the church. 
 
 About the year 1626, he united with a number oi 
 wealthy and respectable citizens, in a desire of pur- 
 chasing all the church lands, which were in the hands 
 of laymen, and with the profits arising from them J 
 to maintain a constant, able, and laborious ministry,] 
 in those parts of the kingdom, where the people be- 
 ing remarkably ignorant, stood greatly in need ol 
 instruction. Such incredible progress was made in 
 this charitable scheme, that all these lands would 
 have been soon honestly recovered to the immediate 
 service of the reformed religion ; but. Bishop Laud 
 viewing the undertaking with a jealous eye, lest it 
 might serve the cause of non-conformity, caused a 
 bill to be exhibited in the Exchequer Chamber, by 
 the king's Attorney-General, against those persons, 
 who had the management of the affair. By these 
 means, an act of court was procured, condemning the 
 proceedings as highly dangerous both to church and 
 state; the conveyances made to the charitable design 
 were declared to be illegal, the company was dis- 
 solved, and the m.Gney was confiscated to the use of 
 his majesty ; but as the conduct of the court was, in 
 this instance, highly resented by the religious part 
 of the nation, the crime was never prosecuted. 
 
 From this time, however, the intolerant Laud, 
 narrowly Avatched the conduct of Mr. Davenport, 
 whom, as he soon after discovered to be inclined to 
 non- conformity, he marked out as an object of ven- 
 geance. Mr. Davenport, therefore, convinced of 
 the implacable resentment of this strenuous advocate, 
 for religious uniformity, resigned his pastoral charge 
 in Coleman street, in hopes of being able to avert the 
 impending storm ; but, in this, his expectations were 
 sadly disappointed ; for he was so constantly harrass- 
 ed by one furious pursuivant or another, that be 
 was obliged to leave the kingdom and retire to Hol- 
 land. In 1633, he arrived at Amsterdam, where he 
 
DICTIONARY- 297 
 
 was received as colleague pastor, with the aged Mr. 
 Paget ; but after having resided there for about two 
 years, finding that he could not conscientiously ad- 
 minister baptism, in the indiscriminate manner then 
 practised in the Dutch churches, he desisted from his 
 ministry^ 
 
 While he was in Amsterdam, he received letters 
 from Mr. Cotton, of Boston, New England, inform- 
 ing him of the prosperous situation of the churches in 
 the new colonies, in consequence of which, he re- 
 turned to London, and having shipped himself to- 
 gether with Messieurs Samuel Eaton, Theophilus Ea- 
 ton, Edward Flopkins, Thomas Gregson, and many 
 others of good characters and fortunes, arrived at Bos- 
 ton, 26th July, 1637. These were in general mern- 
 bers of his congregation, who, on account of the 
 esteem they had for his person and ministry, resolved 
 to accompany him to this distant country. Mr. Ea« 
 ton and Mr. Hopkins, had been merchants in Lon- 
 don, possessed great estates, and were n^en of emi- 
 nence for their abilities and integrity. The fame of 
 Mr. Davenport^ and the character of those, who ac- 
 companied him, made the people of Massachusetts 
 exceedingly desirous, that they should settle in that 
 commonwealth. Great pains were, accordingly, ta- 
 ken not only by particular persons and townships, but 
 also by the general court to prevail on them to fix on 
 some spot within their jurisdiction ; but they were de- 
 termined to plant a distinct colony by themselves. 
 By this time, the English had become acquainted with, 
 that fine tract along the shore from Saybrook to Fair- 
 field, which, on account of the fertility of its soil, and 
 its fine harbours, was represented as being most hap- 
 pily situated both for commerce and navigation. Mr. 
 Davenport's company, therefore, projected a settle- 
 ment in that part of the country. 
 
 The lands and harbours, on the sea coast of Con- 
 necticut being sufficiently explored in the fall'of 1637 
 by Mr. Eaton and others, they pitched upon Quinni- 
 
198 NEW BIOGRAPHICAI 
 
 pine, which has since been called New-Haven, fof 
 the place of their settlement, and, thither Mr. Daven- 
 pf:a*t removed with his company in March 1638. 
 
 Whatever might have been the ostensible reasons 
 nssigned by these colonists for their removal from 
 Massachusetts, it is probable that the real motive 
 with the principal men, was the desire of being at 
 the head of anew government, modelled both in ci- 
 vil and religious matters, agreeably to their own ap- 
 prehensions. It had been an observation of Mr. 
 Davenport, that v/henever a reformation had been ef- 
 fected in the church, in any part of the world, it had 
 rested where it had been left by the reformers ; and 
 that it could not be advanced another step. He was 
 nov/ embarked in a design of forming a civil and reli- 
 gious constitution, as near as possible to scriptural 
 precept and example, and the principal gentlemen, 
 who accompanied him to America, had the same 
 views. In laying the foundation of a new colony, 
 there was a great probability, that they might accom- 
 modate all matters of church and commonwealth to 
 their own sentiments; but in Massachusetts the prin- 
 cipal men were fixed in the chief seats of govern- 
 ment, which they were likely to keep, and their civil 
 and religious policy were already framed. Besides 
 sentiments of antinominianism had taken such deep 
 root at Boston, that Mr. Davenport with his leading 
 men, might judge, that the people, who came with 
 them, might be much less exposed to the danger of 
 corruption from these tenets, in a new plantation, than 
 in Massachusetts. These might all unite their influ- 
 ence with Mr. Davenport and his company to deter- 
 mine them to begin a new colony. 
 
 Soon after their arrival at New-Haven, at the close 
 of a day spent in fasting and prayer, they entered into 
 what they termed a plantation covenant, in which they 
 solemnly bound themselves, to be guided by the rules 
 of scripture, in all matters, respecting either the esta- 
 blishment of the church, the elections of magistrates. 
 
DICTIONARY. 199 
 
 or the enacting of laws: and besides thls^ there ap' 
 pears, for the first year, to have been no other act of 
 either, civil, mihtary or ecclesiastical authority. 
 
 This, however, could only be considered as a tem- 
 porary expedient, till they should be at leisure to fix 
 npon a more precise form of government, The plan- 
 ters of New Haven, therefore, and those of Hartford, 
 which w^as settled about the same time, convened 
 on the 14th January 1639, where after mature de* 
 liberation, they adopted a constitution or form of go- 
 vernment, in which the venerable Davenport, and 
 those connected with him, discovered such wisdom 
 in providing for the freedom and liberties of them- 
 selves and posterity, that, though formed at that early 
 period, when the rights of man were but little under- 
 stood, it has continued, with little variation, to the 
 present time, to be the constitution of Connecticut. 
 
 And here we may remark, that the Fathers of 
 Connecticut as to politics, w^ere republicans. They 
 rejected with abhorrence the doctrines of the divine 
 rights of kings, passive obedience and non-resistence, 
 and with Sidney, Hampden and other great writers 
 they believed that all civil power and government 
 was in the people ; and upon theso sure and im- 
 moveable foundations, they formed their civil consti- 
 tutions. 
 
 After this establishment of civil government, the 
 . proper education of youth was one of the first objects 
 of their care. It was accordingly enacted about the 
 year 1663, at which time the colony had in conse- 
 quence of their wise regulations become pretty ex- 
 tensive, that " every town consisting of fifty families 
 should maintain a good school, in which reading and 
 writing should be taught, and that a grammar school 
 should be instituted in every county town." Of these 
 last Mr. Davenport was the principal promoter, who 
 sensible of the importance of public seminaries, had 
 seme time before written to Governor Hopkins, then 
 in England, upon the subject, in consequence of 
 
200 NEW BIOGRAPHICAt 
 
 which, that gentleman, had by his last will, dated 
 1657, bequeathed a legacy of 13241. sterling (5879 
 dollars) " as an encouragement in these foreign? 
 plantations of bringing up and educating youths, 
 both at the grammar school and college." In 1664, 
 this legacy was equally divided, by the advice of Mr. 
 Davenport, between New-Haven and Hartford, in 
 both which places, grammar schook have been sup- 
 ported ever since. Upon this foundation of scholas-j 
 tic establishments in Connecticut, future legislator: 
 have improved, so that there is no part in the United 
 States, where the education of youth is equally attend- 
 ed to. 
 
 Were we to particularize the various measures, in 
 which Mr. Davenport took an active part, to promot( 
 the interest of this colony, the detail would be too te- 
 dious • but to such of our readers as wish for more 
 particular information, we take the liberty of recom- 
 mending a valuable and highly interesting publication 
 of the Reverend Dr. Trumbull, entitled " A com- 
 plete history of Connecticut, civil and ecclesiastical, 
 from the emigration of its first settlers, to the year 
 1713.'* 
 
 Mr. Davenport, in the year 1667, though univer- 
 sally beloved by his flock at New-Haven, and then 
 in his seventieth year, was prevailed on, by the ear- 
 liest solicitation of the church and congregation at 
 Boston, to remove to that capital, where he died of an 
 apoplexy, March 15th, i670. 
 
 He is characterized as a hard student, and universal 
 scholar, and as a laborious, prudent and exempla- 
 ry minister. He left a respectable family, and his 
 descendants have supported its dignity to the present 
 time, some of them having been admitted into the 
 ministry and others m.agistrates of Connecticut. 
 
 DAVIES, (Reverend Samuel), president of the 
 college of New Jerst7 was born 3d November, i742. 
 
DICTION ARYi 201 
 
 in the county of Newcastle on Delaware. His father 
 was a planter, who lived with great simplicity of man- 
 ners and supported the character of an honest and pious 
 man till his death. His mother was a woman of great 
 worth and eminently distinguished for a strict atten- 
 tion to every moral and religious doty. They had 
 only one daughter ; and the subject of this article, 
 who was born about five years after his sister, was 
 their only son. 
 
 As there was no school in the neighbourhood, Mrs. 
 Davies herself taught Samuel to read ; iiud he is said 
 even, at that early period, to have made such profi- 
 ciency, as to have surprised every person, who had 
 an opportunity of observing it. 
 
 He continued at home with his parents, till he was 
 about ten years old, when he was sent to an English 
 school, at some distance from his father's, where he 
 continued for two years and made great progress in 
 learning. During the first twelve years of his life, 
 as is common with most sprightly children, notwith- 
 standing their being blest with the best examples set 
 before them, he paid little attention to the afiairs of 
 God and religion ; but about that period, he was 
 awakened to a solemn thoughtfulnessand an anxious 
 concern about his eternal state was so deeply imprint- 
 ed on his mind, as to make him habitually uneasy and 
 restless, until he might obtain satisfactory scriptural 
 evidence of his in terestin the forgiving love of God. 
 
 It will not be expected in a publication of this 
 kind, that we should particularly specify the various 
 steps of his progress in religious life. We shall, there- 
 fore, only observe, that from the time he first received 
 these impressions, he became uniformly guarded in 
 his conduct and indefatigable in his exertions to pre- 
 pare himself for the gospel ministry, for which impor- 
 tant ofiice he had been devoted by his parents from 
 his infancy. A diary, which he began about this 
 time and continued to keep, as long as his leisure 
 
 Vol.. II. No. 12. C2 
 
-^02 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 ] 
 
 would permit, clearly shews how intensely his mind 
 was set upon heavenly things; hov/ observant he was' 
 of the temper of his heart, and how watchful over 
 his thoughts, words and actions. Did any censure 
 his foibles, or juvenile indiscretions? They would have 
 done it compassionately, had they known how se- 
 verely he censured them himself; for the tribunal 
 daily erected in his own bosom was more critical in 
 scrutinizing, and more impartial and severe in pass- 
 ing sentence, ^ than either his friends or enemies could 
 be. 
 
 Being now instigated by the most eager desire of 
 being soon in a situation of serving mankind to the 
 best advantage, he, amidst many obvious inconven- 
 iences made surprising progress in learning, and 
 sooner than could^ have been expected, was found 
 competently qualified for the ministerial office. He 
 passed the usual previous trials, with uncommon 
 approbation, having far exceeded the raised expecta- 
 tions of his friends and admirers. 
 
 When he was licensed to preach, such was the 
 opinion formed of his zeal and abilities, as to excite 
 the earnest desires of every vacant congregation, 
 where he was known, to obtain the happiness of his 
 stated ministrations. But far from gratifying his na- 
 tural inclination to the society of his friends, or con- 
 sulting his own ease, and move^ by what he thought 
 conscientious duty, he undertook the charge of some 
 dissenting congregations in Virginia, separated from 
 all his brethren, and exposed to the censure and resent- 
 ment of many. But the more he was known in these 
 parts, the more were prejudices removed; contempt 
 was gradually turned into reverence; the number of 
 his enemies daily diminished, and his friends increas- 
 ed. Nor did he labour in vain, for his ministry was 
 blessed by the conversion of a great number both of 
 whites and blacks ; for the proof of which, we refer 
 •aur readers to his own narrative, sent to the Rev. 
 Mr. Beilaroy, and by him published, and to liis letters 
 
DICTIONARY. 203 
 
 to some gentlemen of the *^ Society in London, for 
 propagating religion among the poor." 
 
 Nor was his usefulness confined to the pulpit. 
 His comprehensive mind could take under view, tlie 
 grand interests of his country and of religion at once ; 
 and these interests, as well as those of his friends, 
 he was ever ready zealously to serve. He was, in 
 particular, an active instrument, in stirring up the 
 people of Virginia, to a spirited resistance against the 
 barbarous incursions of the Indians, which, about the 
 year 1750, were very frequent upon the frontiers of 
 that colony. 
 
 In the year 1753, he was chosen by the sy- 
 nod of Nevir-York, at the solicitation of the trustees 
 of Jersey College, as a fit person to accompany the 
 Rev. Mr. Gilbert Tennent to Great Britain and Ire- 
 land, in order to solicit benefactions for the said 
 College. As this manifested the high opinion, which 
 both the synod and corporation entertained of his po- 
 pular talents and superior abilities, so his ready com- 
 pliance to undertake that service, hazardous and dif- 
 ficult in itself, and precarious in its consequences, 
 which required him to overlook his domestic connec- 
 tions, however tender and endearing, manifested his 
 resolution and self-denial. How well he was quali- 
 fied as a solicitor, is witnessed by the numerous and 
 large benefactions, which he received. His services, 
 as was meet, were gratefully accepted by his consti- 
 tuents ; and to the pious, generous and public-spirit- 
 ed charity of the friends of learning and religion in 
 Great Britain, received on that occasion, as well as 
 the sum collected by President Burr, which we have 
 already mentioned in our memoirs of that gentleman, 
 does the College of New-Jersey, owe its present 
 flourishing condition. 
 
 It may not be amiss to mention, that when he re- 
 turned from his voyage to Great Britain, he entered 
 again on his laborious and beloved task of preaching 
 the gospel to his several congregations; and continu- 
 
204 KEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 ed in this work until the year 1759, when he waJ 
 elected President of the College of New- Jersey, in 
 the room of the late Rev. Mr. Jonathan Edwards. 
 The College, before he came, had been in an unhap- 
 py situation ; partly owing to the length of that me- 
 lancholy period, between the death of President Burr 
 and his successor, and partly to the evil dispositions 
 and practices of a fevv^ members of the society. Pre- 
 sident Burr died in September 1757, and although, 
 Mr. Edwards was elected a few days after, he did 
 not take upon himself the government of the college 
 till February 1758, and about a fortnight after took 
 the small pox of which he died, in March following. 
 Mr. Davies was not initiated in his office, till the lat- 
 ter end of July 1759 ; so that the college lay under 
 the obvious disadvantages of a bereaved condition 
 for almost two years. But the prudent measures ta- 
 ken by President Davies soon surmounted these dis- 
 advantages ; so that, in a few months, a spirit of em- 
 ulation in learning and morality, as had been usual, 
 evidently characterized the students of Nassau-Hall, 
 Whilst he continued President, his labours were 
 great and his application to study was necessarily 
 more int:ense than that of his predecessors. For he 
 came to this seat of the muses, when its learning, by 
 the eminent abilities of President Burr, was advanc- 
 ed to a very considerable degree; and he had just 
 emerged from a sea of ministerial labour in various 
 j^laces, wherein a common genius would have been 
 able to have made but little improvement in acade- 
 mical learning. Besides the speedy passage he had 
 made through the course of his studies, previous to 
 Lis entering into the ministry, made his after applica- 
 tion the more necessary for so important and elevat- 
 ed a situation. He was determined not to degrade 
 his office, but to be in reality, what his station sup- 
 posed him, and accordingly exerted himself to the 
 utmost. The labours of the day seemed to him ra- 
 ther an incentive to study than to rest in the night ; 
 
dictionary; 5205 
 
 for he commonly sat up till 12 o'cloek and oftenla-^ 
 ter, although he rose by break of day. 1 he success 
 was proportionable, for by the mighty efforts of his 
 great genius, and by dint of industry, he left the col- 
 lege oT New- Jersey, at his death, in as high a state 
 of literary merit, as it had ever been in, since its first 
 institution. 
 
 There is reason to believe, that the intense appli- 
 cation, with which Mr. Davies attended to the duties 
 of his office was one great cause of his death. The 
 habit of his body was plethorick ; and it is not to be 
 doubted, but that his health for some years, had very 
 much depended upon the exercise of riding, to which 
 he was necessarily obliged, while he lived in Virginia, 
 though even then, he had several severe fevers, supr 
 posed to arise principally from his application to stu- 
 dy, in the intervals of riding abroad. When he came 
 to the college, he scarcely used any bodily exercise, 
 save what was required in going from his own house 
 to Nassau-Hall, which is a space of about iO rods, 
 five or six times a day. 
 
 In the latter end of January 1761, a bad cold seiz- 
 ed him, and in order to relieve him, he was bled. 
 The same day he transcribed for the press his ser- 
 mon on the death of the late king, and the day after 
 preached twice in the college hall, by all which the 
 arm, in which he was bled, became much inflamed, 
 arid increased his former indisposition. On the Mon- 
 day morning after, at breakfast, he was siezed with a 
 violent chilly fit, which was succeeded by an inflam- 
 atory fever, and in ten days brought on the period of 
 his life, at v/hich time he had only arrived at the 37th 
 year of his age. 
 
 It is much to be lamented, that the violence of the 
 disorder, of which this excellent man died, deprived 
 him of the regular exercise of his reason, the greater 
 part of the time of his sickness. Even in his dcliriiun, 
 however, his mind discovered the favourite objects 
 
205 KEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 ^ 
 
 of his concern, the prosperity of the church and the 
 good of mankind. 
 
 In the year 17()5, a number of his sermons in 3 
 vol. octavo, were published in London by the Rev. 
 Dr. Gibbons. The character of Mr. Davies as a man 
 of talents and real piety, being well known in Great 
 Britain, a numerous subscription was obtained to de- 
 fray the expences of the undertaking, and the emolu- 
 ments arising from it were appropriated to the use of 
 Mrs. Davies and her helpless family, consisting of 
 three sons and two daughters. The sermons, which 
 have been frequently republished since that time, are 
 deservedly held in high estimation, as they are writ- 
 ten in an elegant style, and treat, in the most masterly 
 manner, of subjects the most useful and important. 
 
 DAVIS, (Henry Edwards) a learned polemical 
 writer, was born, at Windsor, England, July 11th 
 1756, and took his Batchelor's degree at the Univer- 
 sity of Oxford, in January 1778. In the spring of 
 that year, he distinguished himself amongst the earli- 
 est examiners of some remarkable assertions and in- 
 sinuations, yet more extraordinary, introduced by Mr. 
 Gibbon in his " History of the decline and fall of the 
 Roman Empire." Mr. Davis, who, at the moment 
 cfhis attacking this eminent writer, had not reached 
 his twenty third year, accuses him of misrepresenta- 
 tion, inaccuracy and plagiarism ; asserts, that to pre- 
 vent detection, he artfully adopts a mode of reference 
 and quotation, peculiarly loose, incorrect and unsatis- 
 factory ; that, for the sake of indulging a vein ot sple- 
 netic wit, he imputes to the fathers and other venera- 
 ble writers, opinions w^hich cannot be deduced from 
 their words, without the most unwarrantable perver- 
 sion ; and lastly, that instead of perusing original 
 works, he derives most of his authorities from French 
 translations. We cannot be surprised at such accu- 
 sations having excited, in a peculiar degree, the sensi- 
 
DICTIONARY. 207 
 
 Vility of Mr. Gibbon, whose temper indeed appears 
 to have been irritated by no publication of his nume- 
 rous assailants, except by the " Examination" of Mr. 
 Davis. Whether this effect is to be attributed to the 
 degrading nature of some of the charges, or to the. un- 
 answerable truths of others, it is not our province to 
 determine 5 yet so important are many oFAIr. Davis's 
 remarks, that, whoever shall publish a future edition 
 of the " History of the Decline and Fall of the Ro« 
 man Empire," would render an essential service to 
 the cause of Christianity, were he to print Mr. Davis's 
 "Examination," by way of appendix. 
 
 Mr. Gibbon, in his '' Vindication," exerted very 
 considerable efforts, to defend himself against his ju- 
 venile opponent, who in his " Reply," manifested no 
 ordinary degree of firmness, and exhibited such proofs 
 of learning, sagacity and zeal for the Christian cause, 
 as to attract the public attention of the most eminent: 
 literary characters in Great Britain. In 1780, having 
 entered into full orders, he was promoted to a fellow- 
 ship in Baliol college, Oxford, of which he, for some 
 time before his death, was tutor ; an office, which 
 he discharged with the greatest solicitude and con- 
 stancy. 
 
 Mr. Davis had, indeed, acquired avast reputation 
 by his book, but with a frame delicate and tender 
 from his birth, he had qu^ified himself for the con- 
 test, at the expence of his constitution, and died 
 Feb. 10th 1784, in his twenty-eighth year, of a com- 
 plication of disorders, brought on by a studious and 
 sedentary life. 
 
 We have already observed, that Mr. Gibbon's 
 resentment appears never to have beenrouzed against 
 any of his numerous opponents, except Mr. Davis 
 in speaking of whose critisism he calls it " a rustic, 
 cudgel," while he styles Bishop Watson*s "appology^, 
 for Christianity" only " a keen weapon." Whilst, on 
 the one hand. It must be universally granted, that 
 Mt*.' Davis was endowed with remarkable talents for 
 
208 NEW BIOGtf.APHICAL 
 
 controversy, yet, on the other, it must be confessed 
 that he writes with too much acrimony ; and occa- 
 sionally forgets the meek spirit of his divine master. 
 To this, however, it may be answered, that the mild- 
 ness of our Saviour was, on one occasion, rouzed to 
 resistance, when he beheld the house of God, polut- 
 ed by money changers, publicans and sinners ; and 
 it cannot be denied, that a bold and open attack 
 would have been more honourable, on the part of 
 Mr. Gibbon, than his indirect method of proceeding 
 by sneer, sarcasm and implication ; by which he 
 hath repeatedly excited and deserved the reproof of 
 his adversaries. 
 
 DAY, (Thomas) an eminent miscellaneous wri- 
 ter, the only son of Thomas Day, Esqr. one of the 
 collectors of the port of London, was born in the 
 year 1748. After having jfinished his education at 
 the University of Oxford, he entered himself of the 
 Society of the Middle Temple, and was called to the 
 bar ; but, though possessed of great eloquence, with 
 a mind not only able to comprehend, but to improve 
 the mode of judicial proceedings, he was disgusted 
 with the technical nicety of legal process ; and being 
 possessed of an ample fortune, much augmented by^ 
 the accumulation of a long minority, he, instead oi 
 practising in the narrow sphere of Westminsler-Hall^ 
 devoted his mind to literary pursuits, and became tht 
 advocate of the human species. 
 
 After his marriage in 1777, he lived retired, many' 
 3^ears at Anningsley, in Surrey, where he amused 
 himself with the occupation of a large farm, more 
 for the sake of maintaining a number of poor families, 
 whom he employed upon it, than with any view to 
 his own advantage. He occasionally interfered with 
 the politics of the times, with the honest zeal of a 
 disinterested patriot, and the manly firmness of an in- 
 dependent country gentleman. But, on the 28th of 
 
DICTIONARY. 203 
 
 September, i789, a period was put to his valuable life 
 by a fall from his horse, as he was riding out with 
 some gentlemen, in Berkshire. 
 
 His admirable poem of" The Dying Negro,*' pub- 
 lished in 1773, and his " Fragment of a Letter on 
 Negro Slavery," mark him amongst the first of those, 
 who exerted their efforts to emancipate a large por- 
 tion of the human race from cruelty and oppression. 
 His political productions, most of which are written 
 with respect to the late i^merican war, are greatly- 
 admired, and are not less distinguished for nervous 
 eloquence, than for the most disinterested patriotism, 
 and regard to the rights and liberties of mankind. 
 
 His " History of Sandford and Merton" published 
 in 1783, will long remain as an instance of the suc- 
 cessful application of genius to form the minds of 
 youth to active and manly virtue. It consists of a 
 variety of tales, interwoven with a story, in which 
 two children and their tutor are the principal charac- 
 ters, and is written in such a manner as to be emi- 
 nently calculated both to delight and to instruct. 
 This work was followed by another, with the same 
 benevolent view, entitled " The history of Little 
 Jack,'* and printed in 1788. 
 
 Plain and simple in his habits, denying himself all 
 the luxuries, and many of the conveniences of life, no 
 man could expend less upon himself, or bestow more 
 upon the necessities of others, and he devoted the 
 greater part of an ample income to acts of public 
 charity. 
 
 DE FOE, (Daniel) an English writer, equally 
 famous for politics and poetry, was bred a hosier. In 
 that situation he was unsuccessful"; and this was pro- 
 bably the reason, which induced him to have recourse 
 to his pen for subsistence. One Tutchin, having in 
 the year 1700, written " The Foreigners," a satire 
 on king William, and the whole Dutch nation^ 
 De Foe wrote *' The Trueborn Englishman," as 
 
 Vol. II. No! 12. D 2 
 
210 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 an antidote to it, and thereby recommended himself 
 to the notice of his sovereign, who did not fail to re4 
 ward him. The poem had a prodigious run, nine 
 editions having passed under his own inspection, be- 
 sides its having been twelve times pirated. Soon af- 
 ter the revolution, the people began to be uneasy at 
 the partiality, which their new king discovered to his 
 countrymen, and their discontent rose so high, that 
 he was obliged to dismiss his favorite Dutch guards. 
 De Foe, who, with a great deal of spirit, engaged the 
 enemies of the new government, levelled the force 
 of his satire against those, who valued themselves for 
 being trueborn Englishmen, and exposed the fallacy 
 of that prepossession, for which the English nation is 
 so remarkably distinguished, by laying open the 
 sourges from which their ancestors originally sprung. 
 
 The next satire of any consequence, wTitten by 
 our author, was entitled" Reformation of Manners." 
 It was aimed at some persons of very high rank, who 
 rendered themselves a disgrace, instead of an orna- 
 iTient to their country, by making their authority sub- 
 servient to that impiety and dissoluteness of manners, 
 which it was designed to suppress. He experienced 
 some difficulties in the beginning of Queen Anne's 
 reign ; but had the satisfaction of receiving afterwards 
 some signal proofs of royal favour, and wasemployedy 
 during the administration of Lord Godolphin, in some 
 important commissions. From this period till the end 
 of Queen Anne's reign, in i714, he wrote an amazing 
 number of tracts, thirty of which have been collect- 
 ed in 2 vol. 8vo. He was the author of a periodical 
 work, called " The Review". The paper entitled 
 " Mercator,'* was, likewise, supposed to come from 
 his pen ; though in this, he w^as only an occasional 
 assistant. 
 
 There is an essay of his, entitled " the Original 
 power of the collective body of the people of Eng- 
 land examined and asserted," in which he shews 
 himself to have been an able politician, and to have 
 
 I 
 
DICTIONARY* ^11 
 
 had a very true notion of civil liberty. He also wrote 
 a tract entitled, " The Shortest way with the Dissen- 
 ters," which contained reflections against some ec- 
 clesiastics in power, for breathing too much a spirit 
 of persecution. Becoming obnoxious to the minis- 
 try on this account, he was obliged to explain him- 
 self, which, being a man of great firmness, he did 
 very explicitly, and without the smallest reserve. 
 When he was afterwards sentenced to stand in the 
 pillory, for attacking some measures, which he 
 thought unconstitutional, he not only cheerfully under- 
 went the punishment; but, at the same time, wrote 
 *' A hymn to the Pillory," as a defiance of their 
 power. 
 
 De Fee is better known by nothing at present, 
 than by his entertaining " History of Robinson Cru- 
 soe," an admirable performance, which has gone 
 through editions without number, and though a ro- 
 mance, is written in so natural a manner, and with 
 €0 many probable incidents, that it was judged to be 
 a true story, for some time after its publication. But 
 it is to be remarked, that whatever scope De Foe 
 might have given to his imagination, in composing 
 this history, he was not altogether without a founda- 
 tion, concerning which, there is an anecdote, that 
 does no great credit to De Foe's character as a man 
 of integrity. When captain Woods Rogers touched 
 at the island of Juan Fernandez, about the year 1710, 
 he brought away with him one Alexander Selkirk, 
 a Scots sailor, who had been left ashore there and 
 iived on that desolate place upwards of four years. 
 When Selkirk came back to England, in the year 
 1711, he wrote a narrative of his adventures, which 
 he put into the hands of De Foe, to digest for publi- 
 cation ; but he, instead of fulfilling the expectations 
 of the unfortunate mariner, ungenerously converted 
 the materials into ". The History of Robinson Cru- 
 soe," returned the papers, and thus was guilty of 
 
212 KEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 a fraud, for which, in a humane view, the distirk^ 
 guished merit of that romance, can never atone. 
 
 He died at his house at Ishngton, in 1731. All 
 his productions of the romantic species, but especial- 
 ly the last, are much in vogue ; and, on account of i 
 their moral and religious tendency, may, very pro- 
 bably, in some measure, counteract the pernicious 
 effects produced by the too general circulation of i 
 modern novels, those occasional vehicles of impiety 
 and infidelity. 
 
 DEANE, (SILAS) was a native of Groton in the 
 state of Connecticut ; but concerning the time of his 
 birth, we have no information. Being a man consi- 
 derably distinguished for literary merits and commer- 
 cial knowledge, he was a few months previous to the 
 declaration of American Independence^, appointed by 
 the Secret Committee of Congress as commercial and 
 political agent for this country in France, where he 
 arrived in June 1776. 
 
 When on September 26th, following, congress had 
 resolved to appoint three commissioners to France, 
 lor the purpose of endeavouring to prevail on that 
 court to enter into a treaty w-ith the UniflBd States, 
 and to procure a supply of arms and ammunition. 
 Dr. Franklin, Mr. Deane and Mr. Lee, were 
 the persons elected. The previous appointment of 
 Mr. Deane to the station above mentioned, was the 
 natural cause, of his being one of those entrusted with 
 this confidential and highly important business ; but 
 those who had the best opportunity of being acquaint- 
 ed with him, seemed to be doubtful either of his pru- 
 dence or integrity, for the representatives of Connecti- 
 cut, were the only delegates out of the thirteen states, 
 who declined voting for him. 
 
 Mr. Deane as appears from the following particu- 
 lars, had not been long invested with his new com- 
 mission, before he exceeded the limits of the powers 
 prescribed to him. In the latter end of April 1777, 
 
DICTIONARY. 215 
 
 Monsieur duCoudray, with several more military cha- 
 racters, came over to this country, with a view of 
 serving in the American army, upon terms agreed 
 upon between them and Mr. Deane, who had enter- 
 ed into a contract with du Coudray for fifty officers. 
 Coudray was to be commander in chief of the artil- 
 lery and engineers ; to have the rank of major gene- 
 ral ; to be under no orders but those of congress and 
 general Washington ; to have the pay of major gene- 
 ral in a separate department ; and to be pensioned 
 for life. 
 
 At the appearance of this unexpected agreement, 
 so far exceeding Mr. Deane's instructions, which 
 "went no farther, on that subject, than to authorize 
 him " to engage engineers not exceeding four," con- 
 gress was exceedingly embarrassed, as there was no 
 possibility of carrying it into effect, without offering 
 so great an insult to their o\ n American officers of 
 the first rank, as would oblige them in honour to 
 quit the service. 
 
 Various were the expedients proposed in Congress 
 to extricate themselves from this unpleasant predica- 
 ment. iWresol-ution was, however, at last, adopted, 
 that Monfieur du Coudray should be informed, that 
 Congress could not comply with the agreement he 
 had entered into with Mr. Deane, but that impress- 
 ed with a favourable opinion of his merits and abili- 
 ties, they would cheerfully give him such rank and 
 appointments, as should not interfere with the great 
 duties they owed to their constituents; and, soon af- 
 ter appointed him inspector general of ordnance and 
 military manufactories, with the rank of major gene- 
 ral. On the 21st Nov. following, it was, likewise, 
 resolved, " that Silas Deane be recalled from the 
 court of France,'* upon which, John Adams, the late 
 president of the United States, was appointed to su- 
 percede him. 
 
 On January i2th 1 777 , Congress rsceived a pack- 
 .ct from their Commissioners at Paris, which, when 
 
214 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 Opened, instead of inclosing the expected letters, 
 was found to contain nothing, but blank paper. Va- 
 rious were the conjectures, occasioned by this extra- 
 ordinary affair, which, however, was rendered still 
 more suspicious, by Mr. Francey having arrived, at 
 the same tinne, with a letter subscribed by Mr. Deane 
 onhj, dated Paris, September 10th, 1777, recom- 
 mending him as agent to M. Beaumarchais, who 
 had procured a quantity of arms and ammunition for 
 congress, and pressing, in the most earnest terms, 
 the execution of the business, on which he came. 
 That Congress considered this last circumstance as 
 very extraordinary, may be seen, from the first letter 
 sent by the committee for foreign affairs to their com- 
 missioners, after his arrival, " We think it strange,*' 
 say they, ^^ that the commissioners did not jointly 
 write by Mr. Francey, considering the very impor- 
 tant designs of his coming over, viz. to settle the mode 
 of payment for the past cargoes, &c." 
 
 Mr. Deane having returned to America, Congress, 
 in August^ 1778, desired him to give, from his me- 
 mory, a general account of his whole transactions in 
 France, from the time of his first arrival, ^ well as a 
 particular state of the funds of CongreS, and the 
 commercial transactions in Europe, especially with 
 M. Beaumarchais. The result, however, was far 
 from being satisfactory to Congress, who seem to 
 have entertained suspicions that there had been a, 
 misapplication of the public money: and for this, they 
 appear to have had good reason, as Mr. Deane had not 
 as yet accounted for his expenditures ; and had care' 
 fully left his papers and vouchers behind him, though 
 he had the opportunity of getting them safely trans* 
 ported to America, by D'Estaing's fleet. Mr. Deane 
 now iBnding his situation peculiarly unpleasant, on 
 the 30th November, addressed a letter to Congress, 
 signifying his intentions of returning to France, and 
 pressing to have his affairs brought to a conclusion. 
 Congress, accordingly, resolved that immediate at- 
 
DICTIONARY. 2I<5 
 
 tention should be paid to his request. On the 4th 
 December, Mr. Deane wrote them a letter of thanks, 
 and yet on the day following, published in the news- 
 papers, " An address to the free and virtuous citzens 
 of America," in which, by stating that their repre- 
 sentatives had shut their ears against information, he 
 pointed out the necessity of appealing from them to 
 the people at large, and thus excited great jealousy 
 and uneasiness throughout the community at large. 
 
 This publication or Mr. Deane was soon after an- 
 swered by the celebrated Thomas Payne, a writer, 
 who, though he has by some late publications, ren- 
 dered himself obnoxious to those, v»^ho believe in 
 Divine revelation, was by his various literary pro- 
 ductions, particularly those under the signature of 
 Common Sense, of great advantage to the American 
 cause, during the period of our revolutionary strug- 
 gle, and who on this occasion, had great advantage, 
 from being secretary to the committee of congress for 
 foreign affairs. It would be too tedious, for us to en- 
 ter into a detail of the various important secrets, which 
 were brought to light by Mr. Payne, in the course 
 of this literary contest; suffice it to say, that they 
 tended greatly to encrease the suspicions for which 
 Mr, Deane's conduct had already given too great 
 cause. 
 
 From this time, Mr. Deane had no farther agency 
 in public affairs, and appears to have passed a great 
 part of his remaining days, in obscurity, at a distance 
 from his native country. The last years of his life 
 were spent in England, where according to some ac- 
 counts, he died in a miserable condition in poor lodg- 
 ings at Deal, and as others say, on board a ship in 
 the Downs, August 23d, 1789. 
 
 We shall conclude this account by observing, that 
 though there appears great reason to suspect the pro- 
 priety of Mr. Deane's public conduct, yet if he was 
 dishonest in his pecuniary transactions, it answered 
 no good purpose to himself, as it is certain, that the 
 
$16 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 1 
 
 close of his life was embittered, by the greatest m 
 
 digence, ? 
 
 DEMOSTHENES, the famous Athenian orator, 
 was born at Athens about 370 years before Christ 
 He lost his father, when he was only seven years old 
 and was placed under the conduct of guardians, 
 who robbed him of his substance, and neglected hi 
 education. Demosthenes repaired this loss by hi 
 love of eloquence and his extraordinary abilitie 
 He became the disciple of Isaeus and Plato, and 
 though he was not neglectful of other studies, he 
 devoted his chief attention to that of oratory. At 
 the age of 17, he gave an early proof of his eloquence 
 and abilities, in an oration, which he delivered against 
 his guardians, from whom he obtained the retribution 
 of the greatest part of his estate. This was the first 
 time that he distinguished himself by his eloquence, 
 which, at length, he improved to such perfection, 
 that Philip ofMacedon said, " it was of more weight 
 against him than all the fleets and armies of the 
 Athenians," and that "he had no enemy but De- 
 mosthenes." It is universally agreed, that no orator 
 ever spoke with more force, or had the passions of 
 others so much in his power, as Demosthenes, inso- 
 much, that as Demetrius Phalereus and Eratosthenes 
 have said, " he actually spoke like one inspired." 
 His abilities as an orator, raised him to consequence 
 at Athens, and he was soon placed at the head of 
 government. In this public capacity, he rouzed his 
 countrymen from their indolence, and animated 
 them against the encroachments of Philip of Mace- 
 don. He was, however, much better qualified to 
 persuade others to martial glory, than to gather lau- 
 rels for himself in the ensanguined plain : for in the 
 battle of Gherronea, he betrayed the most dastardly 
 cowardice, and saved his life by a precipitate flight. 
 After the death of Philip, he declared himself with 
 
DICTIONARY. ^17 
 
 equal warmth against Alexander his son and succes- 
 or ; and when the Macedonians demanded of the 
 Athenians, their orators, Demosthenes reminded his 
 countrymen of the fable of the sheep, which deliver- 
 ed their dogs to the wolves. By the prevalence of 
 party, however, he was forced to retire from Athens : 
 and, in his banishment, which he passed at Troezeii 
 and /Egina, he lived with more effeminacy than 
 true heroism. When Antipater made war against 
 Greece, after the death of Alexander, Demosthenes 
 was publicly recalled from his exile, and a galley dis- 
 patched to fetch him from JEgm^. : but though his 
 return was attended with much splendour, his popu- 
 larity was only of short continuance. Antipater and 
 Crateres were near Athens, and demanded that all 
 the orators should be delivered up into their hands. 
 But Demosthenes, who would not be given up, lied to 
 the island of Celeutia ; and when he saw, that all 
 hopes of safety were vanished, he put an end to his 
 days by poison, in the S22d, year before Christ. 
 
 There are extant, under his name, 61 orations, 
 which have frequently been published. But, though 
 he arrived to such perfection in this art, he set out 
 under great disadvantages ; for he had an impedi- 
 ment in his speech, which, for a long time, would 
 not permit him to pronounce the letter r. He had 
 a weak voice, a short breath, and a yery uncouth 
 and ungracious manner ; however, by dint of resolu- 
 tion and infinite pains he at last overcame all these 
 defects. He would clime up steep and rocky places, 
 to help his wind and strengthen his voice ; he would 
 declaim with pebbles in his mouth to remedy the im- 
 perfection of his speech ; he would place a looking- 
 glass before him, to correct the aukwardness of his 
 gesture; and he learned, of the best players, the pro- 
 per graces of action and pronunciation, which he 
 thought of so much consequence, that he made the 
 whole art of oratory, in a manner, consist of them. 
 He often retired into a subterraneous cave, to devot(j 
 Vol. II. No. 12. V:2 
 
il8^ NEW BIOGRAPHICAL ,^ 
 
 himseJt more closely to studious pursuits ; and to 
 eradicate all curiosity of appearing in public, he shav- 
 ed one half of his head, so that he could not with de- 
 cency go abroad till his hair had grown again. In 
 this solitary confinement by the help of a glimmering 
 lamp, he composed the greatest part of his orations, 
 which have been the admiration of every age, though 
 his rivals inveighed against them, observeing that they 
 smelled of oil. He also accustomed himself to har- 
 rangue at the sea shore, where the agitation of the waves 
 formed to him an idea of the commotions in a popular 
 assembly, and served to prepare and fortify him against 
 them. From these several kinds of hardships, which 
 he imposed upon himself, it is plain that he, was not 
 so much born an orator, as an instance, how far parts 
 and application may go, towards forming a great man 
 in any profession. 
 
 Demosthenes has been deservedly called the prince 
 of oralors. Indeed no orator had ever a finer field 
 than Demosthenes in his Olynthiads and Philippics, 
 which are his capital orations ; and undoubtedly to 
 the greatness of the subject, and to that integrity 
 and public spirit, which breathe in them, they owe a 
 large portion of their merit. The subject is to ex- 
 cite the indignation of his countrymen against Phi- 
 lip of Macedon, the public enemy of the liberties of 
 Greece ; and to guard them against the treacherous 
 measures, by which that crafty tyrant endeavoured t 
 lull them into a neglect of their danger. To attai 
 this end, we see him use every proper means to ani 
 mate a people distinguished by justice, humanity and' 
 valour; but, in many instances, become corrupt and 
 degenerate. He boldly accuses them of venality^ 
 indolence and indifference to the public good, while, 
 at the same time, he reminds them of their tormcr 
 glory and of their present resources. His contempo- 
 rary orators, who were bribed by Philip, and who 
 persuaded the people to peace, he openly reproaches 
 as traitors to their country. He not only prompts td 
 
 I 
 
DICTIONARY, 219 
 
 Vigorous measures ; but teaches how they are to be 
 carried into execution. His orations are strongly ani- 
 mated, and full of the impetuosity and ardour of pub- 
 lic spirit. His composition is not distinguished by 
 ornament and splendour. It is an energy of thought 
 peculiarly his own, which forms the character and 
 raises him above his species. He seems not to attend 
 to words, but to things. We forget the orator and 
 think of the subject. He has no parade and ostenta- 
 "• n ; no studied introductions ; but is like a m.an 
 of his subject, who after preparing his audience, 
 ntenceor two, for the reception of plain truths, 
 ctly on business. 
 
 : Hs hini a perfect model, and such as he 
 : d to be. These two great princes of 
 c; -' :' vc been often compared together; but 
 
 '-ii-i ',ent hesitates to which to give the prefer- 
 
 ence. IhQ Archbishop of Cambray, how^evcr, 
 sec-i:^, to have stated their respective merits with great? 
 justice and perspicuity in his " Lectures on Rhetoric 
 and Poetry." The passage, translated, is as follov/s : 
 " I do not hesitate to declare, that I think Demosthe- 
 nes superior to Cicero. I am persuaded no man can 
 admire Cicero more than I do. He adorns whatever 
 he attempts. He does honour to language. He dis- 
 poses words in a manner peculiar to himself. His 
 style has great variety of character. Whenever he 
 pleases, he is ever concise and vehement; for instance, 
 against Cataline, against Verres, against Anthony : 
 but ornament is too visible in his writings. His art 
 is wonderful, but it is perceived. Vv^ien the orator is 
 providing for the safety of the Republic, he forgets 
 not himself, nor permits others to escape him. De- 
 mosthenes, on the other hand, seems to escape from 
 himself, and to see nothing but his country. He seeks 
 not elegance of expression, but unsought for he pos- 
 sesses it. He is superior to admiration, ile makes use 
 of language, as a modest man doesof dress, only to 
 cover him. He thunders, he lightens. He is a torrent, 
 
220 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 1 
 
 which carries every thing before it. We cannot cri- 
 ticise, because we are not ourselves. His subject 
 entrances our attention, and makes us forget his lan- 
 guage. We lose him from our sight. Philip alone 
 occupies our minds. I am delighted with both these 
 orators 3 but I confess, 'that I am less affected by the 
 infinite art and magnificent eloquence of Cicero, than 
 by the rapid simplicity of Demosthenes.'* 
 
 DERI I AM, (WiLLiA?,^) an excellent English 
 philosopher and divine, was born at Stowton, near 
 Worcester in 1657. In 1675, he was admitted into 
 Trinity college, Oxford, and by the time he took his 
 degree of B. A. was greatly distinguished for his learn- 
 ing and other valuable and eminent qualifications. 
 In 1682, he was presented to the vicarage of War- 
 grave in Berkshire ; and in 1689, to the valuable rec- 
 tory of UpmJnster in Essex, which latter, lying at a 
 convenient distance from London, afforded him an 
 opportunity of conversing and corresponding, with 
 the mcst distinguished virtuosos in Great Britain. Ap- 
 plying himself there with great eagerness to natural 
 and experimental philosophy, he soon became a dis- 
 tinguished member of the royal society, whose philo- 
 sophical transactions contain a great variety of curious 
 and valuable pieces, the fruits of his laudable in- 
 dustry. 
 
 lie published in his younger years, " The Artificial 
 Clock maker, or a treatise of watch and clock work, 
 8cc." which has passed through many editions. In 
 1711, 1712, and in 1714 he preached those sermons 
 at Boyle's lectures, which he afterwards digested under 
 the well known titles of *'Physico-Theology, and As- 
 tro-Theology," and enriched with valuable notes and 
 copper plates. The last thinfj^he published of his own 
 composition, was " Christo-Theology ; or, a demon- 
 .stration of the divine authority of the Christian religion, 
 being the substance of a sermon preached at Bath, 
 
DICTIONARY. 221 
 
 November 1729.'' But besides his own, he published 
 some pieces of Mr. Ray, and gave new editions of 
 others, with great additions from the author's own 
 MSS. To him, the world is likewise indebted for 
 the publication of the " Philosophical Experiments 
 and observations of the kite eminent Dr. Robert 
 Hooke, and other eminent virtuosos in his time, 1726 
 8 vo." He communicated also to the Royal Society- 
 several, pieces, which he received from his Jearned 
 correspondents. 
 
 This great and good man, having spent his life. In 
 the most agreeable and improving study of nature, 
 and made all his researches therein subservient to the 
 cause of religion and virtue, died at length, in his 78th, 
 year, April 5th, 1735, at Upminster, where he was bu- 
 ried. He left behind him a valuable collection of 
 curiosities ; particularly a specimen oi insects, and 
 of most kinds of birds found in Great Britain. We 
 shall conclude by observing, that our author was ve- 
 ry well skilled in medical as well as philosophical 
 knowledge, and was constantly a physician to the 
 bodies, as well as souls of his parishioners. 
 
 DESCARTES, See Cartes Reni: des. 
 
 DE SOLIS, (Antonio,) a Spanish cardinal and 
 archbishop of Seville, who, notwithstanding the lux- 
 urious tendencies of ecclesiastical elevation* and the 
 temptation of a prodigious income, extended his lite, 
 to more than one hundred and ten years, in tlie un- 
 interrupted enjoyment of most of his faculties, and an 
 exemplary exercise of episcopal dignity. 
 
 His great age and healthy appearance, excited the 
 curiosity of the late king of Spain, who questioned 
 him concerning the regimen he pursued, and the gen- 
 eral habits of his life. " By recollecting, when I was 
 young, that I might hereafter be old," replied the pre- 
 
222 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 late, " i find myself young, though in fact very old. 
 My life has been very sober, studious and contem- , 
 plative, but by no means lazy or sedentary. My diet 
 has been sparing, though delicate ; my liquor the best- 
 wine of Cerez and La Mancha, of which I exceed 
 not a pint, except in very cold weather, when I allow 
 myself a third more : I ride or walk every day in the 
 open nir, except in wet weather, when 1 exercise for 
 two hours in a gallery or piazza of the palace. I en- 
 deavour to preserve my mind in a due state of obedi- 
 ence to the divine commands. I discharge, as faith- 
 fully as I am able, the office of a christian bishop, and 
 as far as is consistent with human frailty, endeavour 
 to preserve a conscience, void of offence, tawards 
 God and man, 1 have arrived at my present age, 
 without any considerable injury to my constitution, 
 by the m.ercy of God; and, relying on the intercession 
 of a blessed redeemer, 1 am now, like ripe corn, rea- 
 dy for the sickle of death." He died in 1774. 
 
 DEVEREUX, (Robert) Earl of Essex, memo- 
 rable for having been a great favourite, and an unhap- 
 py victim to the arts of his enemies, and his own am- 
 bition, in the reign of Queen Elizabeth, was born in 
 Herefordshire, England, in 1561, Upon the death 
 ofhis father, which happened, v^'hcn he was only ten 
 years of age, he succeeded to the title of earl of Es- 
 sex ; and about two years after, was sent by his guar- 
 dian, lord Burleigh to Trinity college, in Cambridge, 
 where he finished the usual course of academical edu- 
 cation in 1682. AVhenhehad scarcely attained his 
 eighteenth year, we find him at the court of Queen 
 Elizabeth, who inmiediatcly honoured him with sin- 
 gular marks of her favour. 
 
 Towards the end of the year 1585, he attended 
 the Earl of Licccster to Holland, and gave signal 
 proofs ofhis personal courage, during the campaign 
 of 1586, particularly at the battle of Zutphcn. On 
 
DICTIONARY. 223 
 
 his return to England, in 1587, be was made master 
 of the horse, ii\ the room of lord Liecester promoted, 
 and in 1588, when the Queen assembled an army, at 
 Tilbury, for the defence of the Kingdom, against the 
 Spanish armada, he was raised to be general of the 
 horse. From this time, he was considered as the 
 happy favourite of the Q.ueen, and if there was any 
 mark yet wanting, to fix the people's opinions, in that 
 respect, it was shewn by the Queen's conferring on 
 him the honor of the garter. 
 
 ^Ve need not wonder, that so rapid an elevation 
 should affect a young man like Essex, who from 
 henceforth shewed a very high spirit, and often be- 
 haved petulantly even to the tiueen herself. His 
 eagerness, about this time, to dispute her favour with 
 the earl of Devonshire, cost him some blood, for 
 his lordship thinking himself affronted by Essex, chal- 
 lenged him to a duel, in which he wounded him in 
 the knee. The Queen, so far from being displeased 
 with it, is said to have sworn a good round oath, that 
 it was fit sombody should take him down, otherwise 
 there would be no ruling hitn. She, however, recon- 
 ciled the rivals, who, to their honour, continued good 
 friends, as long as they lived. 
 
 The gallant Essex, however, was not so captivat- 
 ed with his situation, as to become insensible to the 
 allurements of military glory. In 1589, Sir John 
 Norris and Sir Francis Drake, having sailed on an 
 expedition against Spain, our young larorite, without 
 the permission or knowledge of his royal mistress, fol- 
 lowed the fleet, which he joined near Lisbon, and 
 acted with great resolution in the repulse of the 
 Spanish garrison of that city. The Queen wrote him 
 a very severe letter upon this occasion ; but she was 
 after his return, soon appeased ; yet it was not long 
 before he again incurred her displeasure, by a private 
 match with the widow of Sir Philip Sidney. In 1591 
 he went abroad, at the head of some forces to assist 
 Henry of^ France s but this expedition was attended 
 
224 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 [necr ' 
 
 with little or no success. In 1 596, he was jol 
 with the lord high admiral, Howard, in the command 
 of an expedition against Cadiz, which terminated in 
 the capture and pillage of that strongly fortified port. 
 
 Upon his return to England, in the year, 1597, 
 he was made carl marshal of England. He met, how- 
 ever, in this and the succeeding years, with varioui* 
 causes of chagrin, partly from the loftiness of his own : 
 temper, but chiefly from the artifice of those, who- 
 envied his great credit with the queen, and were de- 
 sirous of reducing his power within bounds. But 
 whatever disadvantages he might labour under from 
 intrigues at court, the queen had commonly recourse 
 to his assistance, in all difficulties and dangers, and 
 placed him at the head of her fleets and armies, in 
 preference to any other person. 
 
 About this time, he met with a severe loss, in the 
 death of his friend and guardian, the great lord 
 Burleigh, who, having long entertained a great ten- 
 derness for his person, had, upon many occasions, 
 stood between him and harm : but this nobleman be- 
 ing now gone, his enemies acted without any restraint, 
 crossed whatever he proposed, impeded the rise of 
 every man he loved, and treated all his projects with 
 an air of contempt. He succeeded lord Burleigh, as 
 chancellor of the university of Cambridge, which is 
 reckoned one of the last instances of his felicity, 
 since he was now advanced too high to be permitted 
 to sit at ease. 
 
 The first great shock he received, in regard to the 
 Ciueen's favcur, arose from a warm dispute between 
 her majesty and himself, about the choice of some 
 fir person to superintend the affairs of Ireland, upon 
 which occasion, when the Queen could not be per- 
 suaded to acquiesce in his opinion, he so far forgot 
 himself, as to turn his back upon her in a contemptu- 
 ous manner. Provoked at this insolence, the Queen 
 gave him a box on the car, and bid him go and be 
 hanged. He immediately clapped his hand on his 
 
dictionary; 225 
 
 ^word, and the lord admiral, who was then present, 
 stepping in betweeen them, he swore, that he neither 
 could, nor would put up with an affront of that nature, 
 and, in a great passion immediately withdrew from 
 court. Where was his gallantry on this occasion ? 
 could the stroke of an angry woman have tinged the 
 honour of a valiant soldier ? This violent storm, how- 
 ever, soon subsided, and he was again restored in ap- 
 pearance, to the queen's favour ; yet there is good 
 reason to doubt, whether he ever recovered it in 
 reality, and his friends, have been apt to date his ruin 
 from this unlucky accident. 
 
 The total reduction of Ireland being soon after 
 brought upon the carpet, the earl was pitched upon 
 as the only person from whom it could be expected. 
 This was an artful contrivance of his enemies, who 
 hoped, by this measure, to ruin him ; nor were they 
 disappointed in their expectations. He declined this 
 fatal preferment as long as he could, but perceiving, 
 that he should have no quiet at home, he accepted it 
 and his commission as lord lieutenant, was passed in 
 March 1598. His enemies now began to insinuate- 
 that he had sought this command for the sake of 
 greater things, which he was then meditating ; but 
 there is a letter of his to the Queen, preserved in the 
 Harleian collection, which shews, that he was so far 
 from entering upon it with alacrity, that he looked 
 «pon it rather as a banishment, and a place assigned 
 him as a retreat from his sovereign's displeasure, than 
 G potent government bestowed on him by her favour. 
 
 The Earl met with nothing in Ireland, but ill suc- 
 cess, and crosses, in the midst of which, an army was 
 suddenly raised in England, under the command of the 
 Earl of Nottingham, nobody well knowing why, but 
 in reality from the suggestions of the Karl's enemies to 
 the Queen, that he rather meditated aninvasion of his 
 native country, tlxan the reduction ot the Irish. This 
 and other circumstances made him resolve to quit 
 bis post, and come over to -England, which he accov- 
 
 Vol. 11. No. 12, F2 
 
226^ NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 dingly did without leave, and presented himself be* 
 fore the Queen, who received him with a mixture of 
 tenderness and severity ; but she, soon after, thought 
 fit to deprive him of all his employments, except that 
 of master of the horse, and also ordered him into the 
 custody of the lord keeper, with whom he continued 
 six months. No sooner had he regained his liberty, 
 than he was guilty of many extravagances, to which 
 he was instigated by knaves and fools, but perhaps: 
 more powerfully, by his own passions. On the 7th 
 February 1601, he w^as summoned to attend before 
 the council, but refused, and when the Queen after- 
 wards sent some of the first lords of her council, to 
 know his grievances, he even had the audacity to 
 confine them : after which he marched with his friends 
 into the city, in expectation that the people would 
 rise in his favour, but in that he was disappointed^. 
 He then gave out, that his enemies sought his life, in 
 consequence of which he kept a watch in Essex house" 
 all night, and summoned his friends for his defence 
 the next morning. Several disputes ensued and 
 some blood was spilt. The earl, however, having, at 
 last, surrendered, was committed to the tower, tried 
 by his peers and found guilty of high treason, for 
 which he was beheaded, February 25th 1601, being- 
 then in his 34th year. Thus did this brave man, 
 this favourite of his Queen, this idol of the people, 
 fall a sacrifice to his own precipitance and want of 
 discretion. He was a polite scholar and a generous 
 friend to literature. 
 
 From the united testimony of the most impartial 
 historians of that period, it is evident, that Essex wj 
 really beloved by Queen Elizabeth ; hence, it at first 
 sight, appears wonderful, that she should have con- 
 sented to his execution. That princess, however, who 
 was then in her 68th year, had still a very high opinion 
 of her beauty, and personal attractions, and probably 
 expected more entire devotion, than the earl's passion 
 for variety would suffer him to pay, and he had toO' 
 
DICTIONARY. 227 
 
 much honesty hi his nature to allow him to feign a 
 passion, which he did not feel. She had, likewise, 
 given credit to many of his ambitious projects, which 
 were incompatible with her own safety ; and was in- 
 formed that he had once inadvertently said, that she 
 grew old and cankered y and that her mind was be- 
 come as crooked, as her carcase. If this be true, we 
 believe, there are many women who would sacrifice 
 such a lover to their resentment. 
 
 It is said, however, that her majesty was for a long 
 time irresolute with respect to his execution; but con- 
 sidering his obstinacy in refusing to ask her pardon 
 she was at last prevailed on to sign the fatal order. 
 It is reported, that the Queen had, at the time, when 
 she was most enamoured with Essex, presented him 
 with a ring, ordering him to keep it, and that whatever 
 crime he should commit, she would pardon him, when 
 he should return that pledge. The earl, upon his 
 condemnation, gave it to his relation, the lady of ad- 
 miral Howard, desiring her to put it in the Queen's 
 own hands ; but she, having imprudently communi- 
 cated the matter to her husband, who was one 
 of the EarFs greatest enemies, was not permitted to 
 acquit herself of the commission. The Queen being 
 informed of the circumstance by the lady on her 
 death bed, v/as, from that moment, rendered so 
 completely miserable, that it is generally supposed to 
 have greatly accelerated her death, which happened 
 soon after. 
 
 DE WITT, (John), the famous Dutch pensionary 
 was bcrn, in 1625, at Dort where he prosecuted his 
 studies so diligently, that, at the age of 23, he pub- 
 lished in Latin, his, " Elem.ents of curved lines, "one 
 of the deepest books in mathematics, which had at 
 that time appeared. In the year 1650, he became pen- 
 sionary of Dort, and distinguished himself very early 
 in the management of the public affairs. 11^ warmly 
 
'228 HEW BIOGRAPHICAL _ 
 
 opposed the war between the English and Datch* 
 representing in strong colours, the bad consequences 
 of which it would be productive to the republic; and, 
 when the events justified his predictions, he gained 
 so great credit, that he was unanimously chosen pen- 
 sionary of Holland. 
 
 The continuance of the war was so visibly destruc- 
 tive of the commerce and interest of the republic, 
 that the pensionary, and his friends, used all their en- 
 deavours to set on foot a negociation. Ambassadors 
 were accordingly dispatched to the commonwealth 
 of England, where Cromwell had a short time be- 
 fore, turned out the old, and set up a new parliament. 
 To this assembly, the Dutch ministers were directed 
 to apply y but as they found the members of that bo- 
 dy to be composed of a set of fanatics, who, instead 
 of entering on the discussion of political topics, only 
 entertained them with long prayers, they found it im- 
 practicable to effect their purpose, till Cromwell had 
 assumed the supreme power, under the title of the pro- 
 tector. With him, they soon concluded a peace, the 
 most remarkable article of which Vvas, the adding of a 
 secret article for the exclusion of the house of Orange, 
 to which the states afterwards consented by a solemn 
 act. But the article of exclusion roused a great 
 clamour in Holland, which being chiefly attributed 
 to the pensionary, raised him a great many enemies, 
 and rendered it necessary for him to act with the ut- 
 most caution, in order, that he might be able to carry 
 his favorite points. The clergy too began to inter- 
 meddle, and instead of devoting their labours to the 
 great duties of tlieir function, viz. the instruction of 
 their hearers in pure and undefiled religion, were only 
 assiduous in recommending the cause of a political 
 party, which had for its object tlie debasement of the- 
 people, and the aggrandizement of the house of Or- 
 ange. The firmness of De V/itt, however, at last, 
 enabled him to overcome all prejudices, so that when 
 the time of his high office was expired, he \vas unani- 
 
DICTIONARY. 220 
 
 mously continued in it, by a resolution of the States, 
 Sept, 15th 1663. 
 
 War having become necessary with England, soon 
 after the restoration of King Charles II. he was ap- 
 pointed one of the commissioners for the direction of 
 the navy, and made such vigorous dispositions, that, 
 though he had no experience in naval affairs, he had 
 a fleet completely equipped for sea, at a much earlier 
 period, than even the admirals themselves had ima- 
 gined to be possible. When it was thought expedi- 
 ent, after the death and defeat of Admiral Opdam, 
 that some of their own deputies should command the 
 fleet, he was one of the three, who were put in com- 
 mission. When he came on board, the fleet was shut 
 up in the Tcxel, and in order to secure a vast number 
 of valuable merchant vessels, then on the coast, it was 
 necessary for it to put to sea, which, as the wind 
 then stood, all the officers and sailors declared to be 
 impracticable. The pensionary alone was of a differ- 
 ent opinion, and at last convinced his opponents of 
 their mistake, by conveying one of their greatest ships 
 through the Spaniards Gat with the wind at S. S. W. 
 August 16th, 1665, when the greatest part of the fleet 
 followed him without the least accident, and the pas- 
 sage has since been called Witt's Diep. They met 
 with a terrible storm on the coast of Norwav, which 
 lasted some days, during which time De Witt was 
 constantly on deck, never changed his clothes, nor al- 
 lowed himself the smallest indulgence, of which the 
 common men did not participate. He wrote a plain 
 and accurate relation of all which happened, during 
 the expedition, and, at his return, verified every arti- 
 cle of this account so fully to the states, that they 
 gave him solemn thanks for his services ; and offered 
 him a considerable present, which, however, he de- 
 clined to accept. 
 
 When the famous battle, in July 1 666, was fought 
 between the English and the Dutch, for three days 
 together, hz v/as sent bv the States to take a full ac- 
 
B30 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 count of the affair ; and he drew up one from th$ 
 best authorities he could obtain, which is justly aci 
 counted a master piece of the kind, and a proof ol 
 his being as capable of recording great actions as at< 
 chieving them. In 1667, finding a favorable con-| 
 juncture for executing the great design of the warm 
 republicans, he established the perpetual edict for a- 
 bolishing the office of Stadtholder, and for fixing the 
 liberty of Holland, as it was hoped, on a strong 
 basis. The expectations of the patriots were, however, 
 sadly disappointed, for, m a few years thereafter, 
 the people becoming disaffected, began to evince 
 their discontent in tijmults and seditions, which did 
 not subside till the office of stadtholder was restored. 
 The pensionary begged disjnission from his post, 
 which was granted with thanks for his faithful servi- 
 ces. He did not affect business, when he saw it was 
 no longer in his power to benefit the public ; and, 
 he deplored in secret the misfortunes of his country, 
 which, from the highest prosperity, fell, as it were, 
 all at once, to the very brink of ruin. At last, the 
 invasion of the French, and the internal divisions 
 amongst the Hollanders themselves spread terror and 
 contusion far and wide, which the Orange party 
 heightened to ruin the De Witts, whom they repre- 
 sented as plunderers of the state, and authors of all 
 the calamities they then laboured under. Cornelius the 
 pensionary's brother was imprisoned and condemned 
 to exile ; and a report being raised, that he would be 
 rescued, the mob arrived and surrounded the place, 
 where it unfortunately happened the pensionary was 
 along with his brother. They broke open the doors, in- 
 sisted on their walking down and after having bar- 
 barously murdered them, carried their dead bodies 
 to the gallows, where they strung the pensionary a 
 foot higher than his brother and afterwards cut and 
 mangled their fiesh in the most savage manner. 
 
 Thus fell this zealous patron of the glory and liber- 
 ty of his native country, in his 47 th year s the greatest 
 
DICTIONARY. 231 
 
 genius of his time, and the atlas of the common 
 wealth. His office, for the first ten years, brought him 
 only 1382 dollars, and in the latter part of his life not 
 above 3000 dollars per annum) and notwithstanding 
 the smallness of his income, when compared with the 
 importance of his services, he refused a gift of 44,400 
 dollars from the states, because he thought it a bad 
 precedent in the government. 
 
 Besides the works already mentioned, he likev/ise 
 published a book containing those maxims of govern- 
 ment, upon which he acted. It shews the true and 
 genuine principles ofpolicy, on which alone it is pos- 
 sible to erect an administration, profitable at home, 
 and which must command respect abroad. On the 
 one hand, are pointed out the mischiefs of tyranny, 
 arbitrary power, authority derived from factions, 
 monopolies and every other species of corruption ; on 
 the other hand, is explained, the true method of ac- 
 quiring and securing power, riches, and peace, of 
 managing and extending trade, of supporting liberty 
 without running into licentiousness, and of adminis- 
 tering the commonwealth in such a manner, as that 
 the possessors of power shall not be either envied or 
 feared. A translation of this valuable book from the 
 original Dutch, entitled " The true interest and poli- 
 tical maxims of the Republic of Holland," has been 
 printed in London, to the last edition of which, in 
 1744, are prefixed historical memoirs of the illustrious 
 brothers, Cornelius and John De Witt, by the late 
 Dr. John Campbell. 
 
 DIGBY, (Sir, Edward) an English gentleman, 
 memorable for the share he had in the gunpowder- 
 plot and his suffering on that account, ivas born in 
 the year 1581, and though he was not a principal ac- 
 tor in this dreadful affair, or indeed an actor at all, 
 yet he offered 6660 dollars tow^ards defraying the ex- 
 penccs of it, entertained Guy Fawkes, who was to 
 kave executed it, ia his house, and was taken in open 
 
"25(3 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 ^ 
 
 ^^■M 
 
 rebellion with other catholics, after the plot vx^as de* 
 tected and had miscarried. When sentence of death 
 was passed against them, he seemed to be very much 
 affected, for making a low bow to those on the bench 
 he said, " if I could hear any of your lordships say 
 you forgave me, I should go the more cheerfully to 
 the gallows." To this all the lords ansv^'ered ** God 
 forgive you, and we do." He was with other con- 
 spirators, on the 30th of January, 1606, hanged, and 
 quartered, at the west end of St. Paul's Church, Lon- 
 don. In a paper written by himself and found after 
 his death, is the following paragraph. " Now for my 
 intention, let me tell you, that if I had thought there 
 had been the least sin in the plot, I would not hav» 
 been of it for all the world ; and no other cause drew 
 me to hazard my fortune and life, but zeal to God's 
 religion'' Here the reader has ample proof of that in- 
 fatuation, which men of real abilities and virtue are 
 and always will be subject to, when deserting the 
 light of their own reason, they suffer themselves to be 
 led by blind or slavish guides ; and of that wretched 
 zeal, which under the notion of serving God, pushes 
 men so infatuated to the most horrid acts of inhu- 
 manity and cruelty, in the destruction of his crea- 
 tures. See Fawkes. 
 
 DODD, (Dr. William) an ingenious divine of 
 unfortunate memory, was born, in 1729, at Bourne 
 in Lincolnshire, of which place his father was vicar 
 After being instructed in classical learning at a privat 
 school, he was in 1745, sent to the university of Cam- 
 bridge, where he gave early proofs of parts and learn- 
 ing and so early as in 1747, began to publish little pieces 
 of poetry. He continued to make frequent publica- 
 tions in this light way, in which, how^ever, there 
 were always marks of sprightliness and ingenuity. 
 In 1752, he published his select'wn of" The Beauties 
 of Shakespeare," in 2 vols. 12 mo. which, in 1755.. 
 
 i 
 
DICTIONARY. 233 
 
 •was followed by "The Hymns of Callimachus, trans- 
 Jated from the Greek into English verse, &;c." This 
 work was dedicated to the Duke of Newcastle, by 
 the recommendation of Dr. Keene, bishop of Chester, 
 who having conceived a good opinion of Mr. Dodd, 
 at the universky, was desirous of bringing him for- 
 ward into the world. 
 
 In 1753, he received holy orders, and being pos- 
 sessed of a pleasing person, respectable manners, and 
 a large share of pulpit eloquence, he soon became a 
 very popular and celebrated preacher. He obtained 
 several lectureships, ^nd greatly advanced his theo- 
 logical character, by an almost uninterrupted publi- 
 cation of sermons and tracts of piety. He was, also, 
 very zealous in promoting and assisting at charitable 
 institutions ; and in particular distinguished himself 
 greatly by his exertions in the establishment of the 
 Magdalene hospital, which was opened, in August, 
 1758, with a view to afford an asylum for these unfor- 
 tunate females, who, having been early seduced from 
 the paths of innocence, are frequently desirous of 
 relinquishing their vicious courses, without being pos- 
 sessed of the means of effecting their purpose. To 
 this charity, of which he may be considered as the 
 principal founder, he became lecturer : for which the 
 sum of Z 100 Sterling (444 dollars) annually was added 
 to his income. 
 
 But notwithstanding his attention to spiritual con- 
 concerns, he was, by no means,negligent in promoting 
 his temporal interest, for besides writing constantly in 
 the " Public Ledger," and other periodical papers, he 
 superintended and contributed largely to the " Chris- 
 tian Magazine," for both of which, he received a ve- 
 ry liberal compensation. In 1759, he published in 12 
 mo. *' Bishop Hall's Meditations," with a dedication 
 to Miss Talbot, who lived in the family of Archbish- 
 bishop Seeker; but this was, some how or other, so 
 worded, as unfortunately to miss his aim ; for it gave 
 such offence to the archbishop, that after a warm 
 Vol. II. No. 12. G2 
 
234 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 1 
 
 epistolary expostulation, his grace insisted on the sheet 
 being cancelled in all the remaining copies. 
 
 His patron. Dr. Squire, who in i760, was made - 
 bishop of St. David's, had published, the year before, 
 a work, entitled, " Indifference for Religion inexcu- 
 sable," on the appearance of which, Dodd wrote a 
 sonnet, and addressed it to the author, who was 
 so well pleased, with this mark of his attention, that, 
 in 176], he made him his chaplain, and in 1763 pro- 
 cared for him a prebend of Brecon. He puffed and 
 flattered this bishop, who was of a humour to like it, 
 in the *' Public Ledger," and he is also supposed to 
 have defended the measures of administration, in 
 some political pieces. The truth is, Dodd's finances, 
 by no means, answered his extravagant manner of 
 living, and this obliged him to have recourse to such 
 methods of augmenting them. Happy, if he had 
 never occurred to worse expedients ! 
 
 Still, however, he preserved theological appearan'- 
 ces ; and he now meditated a design of publishing a 
 large commentary on the bible, which he began to 
 publish in w^eekly numbers, and continued without 
 interruption, till it was completed in 3 vols, folio. 
 In 1766, he took his degree of L.L.D. at Cambridge, 
 having been made one of the king's chaplains, some 
 time before. His next publication was a volumn of 
 his poems, in 8 vo. In 1769, he published a trans- 
 lation from the French of "Sermons preached before 
 Louis XV. during his minority, by Massillon bishop 
 ot Clermont." They were called " Sermons on the 
 duties of the great," and inscribed to the prince of 
 Wales. In 1771, he published, " Sermons to young 
 men," 3 vols. 12 mo. These he dedicated to his pupils 
 Charles Ernst and Philip Stanhope, the last of w^hom, 
 upon the death of his father, became earl of Chesterfield, 
 
 In 1772, he was presented to the living of 
 HocklifFe, in Buckinghamshire -, but what could 
 such preferments as this avail ? The extravagance 
 of the times, the pride of the eye, and the luxury of 
 
DICTIONARY. 235 
 
 Jife had entirely got ascendancy over him, and he 
 became greatly embarrassed and sunk in debts. To 
 relieve himself, he was tempted to a step, which ru- 
 ined him forever with the public; and this was to 
 procure, by unfair means, the rectory of St. George's 
 Hanover square. On the preferment of Dr Moss to 
 the bishoprick of Bath, and Wells, in 1774, that rec- 
 tory fell to the disposal of the crown, upon which 
 Dodd caused an anonymous letter to be sent to 
 I^dy Apsley, at that time wife of the lord chancellor, 
 offering the sum of L3qOO( 13,320 dollars,) if, by her 
 means, he could be presented to the living. Alas i 
 he was unfortunate in his woman ; the letter was im- 
 mediately committed to the chancellor, and being 
 traced to Dodd, . was laid before the king, in conse- 
 quence of which he was immediately struck out of the 
 list of royal chaplains ; he v^as abused and ridiculed 
 in the papers of the day ; and to crown tlie whole, 
 Foote introduced him and his wife into his comedy 
 of the " Cozeners," and the poor divine became, eve- 
 ry where , completely ridiculous. Yet, after this 
 violation of sacerdotal propriety, his circumstances 
 might have still been retrieved ; but a taste for expen- 
 sive pleasures, to which he was not entitled by biith 
 or income, and a fondness for inconsistent splendour, 
 were still predominant in his heart. He endeavour- 
 ed, however, to improve his income, by becoming the 
 editor cfa News-Paper, taking private pupils, and 
 scribbling novels ; one of which, in particular, viz. 
 "The Sisters," exhibits scenes culpably luscious, 
 which could not have been sketched but by an eye 
 witness, and highly indecorous for a clergyman to de- 
 scribe. About this time, he is said to have attempt- 
 ed a disengagement from his debts, by a commission 
 of bankruptcy, in which, however he failed. 
 
 But the whirlpool of dissipation drew him stronger 
 and stronger into its vortex. lie had been prevailed 
 on, in the summer of 1776, to make an excursion to 
 Paris, with a design to engage engravers for a work 
 
236 HEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 1 
 
 he was preparing for the press ; but as if he had a< 
 mind to wanton in folly, he was recognized, at the 
 races, on the Plains de Sablons, tricked out in all the 
 foppery of French attire, and driving a fille de joy 
 in a phaeton. In consequence of this and his other 
 imprudences, his pecuniary difficulties greatly en- 
 creased. He returned in the beginning of winter, and 
 proceeded to exercise his functions as usual ; particu- 
 larly at the Magdalene Hospital, where his last ser- 
 mon was preached,. February 2d 1777; and two 
 days after, he was tempted, io forge the name of his 
 patron Lord Chesterfield, to a security for the sum of 
 18648 dollars; detection however, instantly following,, 
 he was committed to prison, tried at the Old-Bailey, , 
 February 24th, found guilty, on the evidence of his 
 former pupil, to whom, however, it ought not to be 
 omitted, that he had refunded the money ; and, af- 
 ter intercessions, which for number and respectability,, 
 have no example, suffered an ignominious death at 
 Tyburn, June 27th 1777. It was, in vain, suggested, 
 that rovalclemencv, which had been extended, in case 
 of murder to the Kennedies, and other individuals, 
 might have been shewn to an unhappy man, who, 
 in his public capacity, as a minister of the gospel, 
 had saved and was lamented by thousands : but his 
 station was only considered as a stronger reason for 
 enforcing the execution of the law, which, in Great- 
 Britain, seems to be imprinted in letters of blood 
 thai he, zvho is detected in forgery y shall never escape 
 death. Indeed, though, during the present reign, 
 many instances could be adduced of the royal cle- 
 mency having been extended to those found guilty of 
 murder, yet, there are so very few cases, in which 
 mercy has been granted to those convicted of forgery, 
 that it would appear, the latter is there considered as 
 a crime of a deeper hue than the former; but with 
 how great propriety, the discerning reader must de- 
 termine. 
 The following were some of the last words, of Dr. 
 
DICTIONARY. 237 
 
 Dodd. "I suffer death for a crime of which I con- 
 fess myself guilty, with a repentance which I trust 
 he to whom all hearts are known, will not despise. 
 The little good, that remains in my power, is to warn 
 others. It is with shame and sorrow I declare, that I 
 have sinned against conviction, for I always considered 
 the christian religion as a revelation from God ; but 
 though I acknowledged the truths, I forgot the prac- 
 tice it recommended and was led astray by vanity and 
 voluptuousness. / attended not to frugality ^ I despi- 
 sed that most necessary of "cir lues, in a master of a 
 family, minute (economy, and was plunged by dissi- 
 pation into expences, which produced distress and 
 ended in fraud. I intreat all, who are present to 
 join with me in my last prayer, that for the sake of 
 Jesus Christ, my sins may be forgiven, and that my 
 soul may be received into the kingdom of heaven." 
 
 His writings boast of a great variety, consisting 
 of 55 articles, chiefly upon subjects of religion and pie- 
 ty, and by no means, without merit in their way. 
 But certainly the most curious, are his " Thoughts 
 in Prison" in five parts, viz. '' The Imprisonment, the 
 Retrospect, the Trial, Public Punishment, Futuri- 
 ty ; " to which are added his " Speech in Court be> 
 fore sentence was pronounced on him," his " Last 
 Prayer," written the night before his death," " The 
 Convict's address to his unhappy Brethren," and sev- 
 eral miscellaneous pieces. 
 
 This ill-fated man was married so early as April 
 1751, even before he was in orders, or had any cer- 
 tain means of supporting himself, and his vvite, though 
 largely 'endowed with personal attractions, was said 
 to be deficient in those of birth and fortune. 
 
 DODDRIDGE, (Dr. Philip) an eminent dis- 
 senting clergyman, was the son of Daniel Doddridge, 
 an oilman, in London, where he was born, June iUy, 
 1702. He was brought up in the early knowledge 
 
2SS NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 of religion, b)' his pious parents, and initiated in the 
 elements of the learned languages, by the Rev. 
 Mr. Stott, a dissenting clergyman, who taught a 
 private school in London. In 1712, he was remov-* 
 ed to Kingston, upon Thames ; and, about the timei 
 of his father's death, whi^h happened in i7 1 5, remov- 1 
 ed again to a private school at St. Albans. Here,* 
 he happily cammenced an acquaintanvfe with Dr. 
 Samuel Clarke, minister of the dissenting congrega- 
 tion there, who became not only the instructor of his 
 youth in the principles of religion, but his guardian 
 when a helpless orphan, and a generous and faithful 
 friend, in all his advancing years, for, by his own and 
 and his friends contribution, he furnished him with 
 means to pursue his studies. The Dutchess of 
 Bedford, being informed of his circumstances, char- 
 acter and strong inclination for learning, made him, 
 an offer, that if he chose to be educated to the minis- 
 try of the church of England, and would goto either 
 of the universities, she would support the expence of 
 his education ; and if she should live till he had ta- 
 ken orders, would provide for him in the church. 
 This proposal he received with the warmest gratitude 
 but, in the most respectful manner, declined it, as 
 he could not then satisfy his conscience, to comply 
 with the terms of ministerial conformity. 
 
 In October 1719, he was placed under Mr. Jen-j 
 nings, who kept an academy at Kilworth, in Leiceis- 
 tershire ; and, during his studies at this place, h( 
 "was noted for his diligence, serious spirit and extraor- 
 dinary care to improve his talents. He was first set- 
 tled as a minister, at Kilworth, in that county, where 
 he preached to a small congregation in an obscun 
 village ; but after the death of Mr. Jennings, he suc- 
 ceeded to his academy, and soon after was called t( 
 the care of a large dissenting congregation at North- 
 ampton, where he carried his pupils along with him 
 who soon after, in consequence of his high reputation 
 for talents and assiduity, greatly increased in num- 
 
DICTIONARY. S39 
 
 ber. Here he spent almost the whole of the remain- 
 der of his life, which being entirely employed in his 
 closet, in his academy, and in his congregation, 
 cannot be supposed to afford many incidents, to gain 
 the attention of the generality of readers. He died 
 in the year 1747, at Lisbon, whither he had gone a 
 short time before, for the recovery of his health ; and 
 his remains were interred there, in the burying 
 ground belonging to the British factory. A hand- 
 some monument was afterwards erected to his mem- 
 ory, in his meeting house, at Northampton, at the 
 expence of his congregation, and an epitaph inscribed 
 on it by his friend, Gilbert West. 
 
 He was the author of many excellent writings, irt 
 which his pious, benevolent and indefatigable zeal 
 to make men wise, good and happy, are every where 
 conspicuous. Of these, the most remarkable are 
 " The rise and progress of religion in the soul, illustrat- 
 ed in a course of serious and practical discourses, suited 
 to persons of every character and circumstance, with 
 a devout meditation or prayer at the end of each 
 chapter," and " The family expositor, containing a 
 version and paraphrase of the New Testament, with 
 critical notes, and a practical improvement of each 
 section," in 6 vols. 4 to. 
 
 DODSLEY, (Robert) an ingenious writer, and 
 very eminent bookseller in London, who, from an 
 humble sphere of life, in which he conducted him- 
 self with exemplary propriety, attained competency 
 and affluence, was born in Nottinghamshire, Eng- 
 land, in the year 1713. 
 
 The world has long been misled by an opinion, 
 which is not yet entirely removed, that talents and 
 prudence are incompatible qualities, that it is not 
 easy to be a wit without mortgaging our estates, and 
 that a poet must necessarily be in debt, and live in a 
 garret. Jt was Dodsley's good fortune, to prove, if 
 
240 ' NEW BIOGRAPHICA*L 
 
 my proof were necessary, that a man's cultivating 
 lis understanding, is no impediment to improving 
 ais fortune, and, that it is very possible to be an 
 author, without neglecting one's pecuniary con- 
 ■jerns. 
 
 Mr. Dodsley's first setting out in life, was in the 
 humble station of footman to a person of quality, 
 from which, however, his abilities very soon raised; 
 him; for, having written " The Toy-Shop," and 
 that piece being shown to Mr. Pope, the delicacy of' 
 satire, which is conspicuous in it, though clothed, 
 with the greatest simplicity of design, so strongly, 
 recommended its author to the notice of that cele- 
 brated poet, that he continued from that time till the 
 day of his death, a warm friend and zealous patron i 
 of Mr. Dodsley, and got the piece immediately in-, 
 troduced on the stage, where it met with the suc-i 
 cess it so richly merited. 
 
 His next production, which was a farce entitled, 
 " The King and Miller of Mansfield," exhibits a na- 
 tural and highly interesting contrast between the un- 
 adorned solidity of country manners, and the splen- 
 did vices of a court; the blunt honesty of a miller, 
 and the slender importance of a monarch, without 
 his attendants in a sequestered spot, and in midnight 
 darkness. It has also a number of pleasing songs, 
 which still continuing to be popular, afford satisfac- 
 tory proof of their original merit. This piece was 
 first represented in the year 1736, and was received 
 with unbounded applause. 
 
 From the success of these pieces, he entered into 
 the business of a bookseller, which, of all others, has 
 the closest connection with, and the most immedi- 
 ate dependance on persons of genius and literature. 
 In this station, Mr. Pope's recommendation, and his 
 own merit, soon obtained him the countenance of 
 persons of the first rank and abilities, and, in a few 
 years, raised him to the greatest eminence in his pro- 
 fession, of v^^hich he was almost, if not altogether, at 
 
DICTIONARY, $4-1 
 
 the head. Yet, neither in this capacity, nor in that 
 of a writer, had success, any effect upon him. In 
 the one line, he preserved the strictest integrity; 
 in the other, the most becoming humility. Mind- 
 ful of the early encouragement his own talents 
 met with, he was ever ready to give the same op- 
 portunity of advancement to those of others, and 
 v/as, on many occasions, not only the publisher, but 
 the patron of genius. But there is no circumstance 
 which adds more lustre to his character, than the 
 grateful remembrance he retained, and ever express- 
 ed, to the memory of those, to whom he owed the 
 obligation of his first being taken notice of in life. 
 
 Mr. Dodsley acquired, by his profession, a very 
 handsome property, with which he retired from bu-^ 
 siness, some time before his death, which happened 
 at Durham, 25t]i September, 1761-. He wrote six 
 dramatic pieces, and besides these, he published a 
 little collection of his own works, in 1 vol. 8 vo. un- 
 der the modest title of" Trifles,'' 1745, and a poem 
 of considerable length, entitled " Public Virtue " 
 1754, 4 to. A second volume of "Trifles'* collected 
 after his death, consisting of 1st, " Cleone," 2d, 
 Melpomene, or the Regions of Terror and Pity,'* an 
 ode, 3d, " Agriculture,'* a poem, and 4th " The 
 CEconomy of Human life.'* 
 
 Mr. Dodsley also executed two works of great ser- 
 vice to the cause of genius, as they have been the 
 means of preserving pieces of merit, which might 
 otherwise have sunk into oblivion, viz. the publication 
 of " A Collection of Poems by different eminent 
 Hands," Jn 6 vols. 12 mo. and "A Collection of 
 Plays by old Authors,** in 12 vols, of the same size. 
 
 DRAKE, (Sir Francis) a most distinguished 
 
 )g\\s\\ naval commander, who flourished in the 
 
 eign of queen Elizabeth, was the son of a common 
 
 iailor, and born in Devonshire, in 1545. He was 
 
 >rought up at the expence, and under the care of 
 
 Vol. II. No. 13. H2 
 
2-12 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 Sir John Hawkins, and at the age of 18, was purser 
 of a ship sailing to Biscay. At twenty-two, he had 
 the honor of commanding the ship Judith, in which 
 capacity, he was in the harbour of St. John de 
 UiJoa, where, after having greatly signalized him- 
 self by his gallantry in different actions, under his 
 patron Sir John Hawkins, he returned with that of-- 
 iicer to England, rich in reputation, though poor ia 
 money. Upon this, he projected a design against^ 
 the Spaniards, in the West-Indies, which he no 
 sooner published, than he had volunteers in abundanee'i 
 ready to accompany him. In 1570, he made his firsts 
 expedition, iii which he w-as much assisted by a na-l 
 tion of Indians, who were, at that time, engaged; 
 in hostilities against the Spaniards. The prince of 
 these people was named Pedro, to whom Drake 
 made a present of a fine cutlass, which he saw had 
 greatly attracted the Indian's fancy. Pedro, in return, 
 gave him four large wedges of gold, which Drake 
 threw into the common stock, with this remarkable 
 expression, that " he thought it but jus4:, that such: 
 as bore the charge of so uncertain a voyage on his 
 credit, should share the utmost advantages that 
 voyage produced." Then embarking his men, withj 
 alHhe wealth he had obtained, w^hich was very con- 
 siderable, he set out for England, where he arrived 
 in August 1573. 
 
 The use he made of his riches, added greatly to 
 his reputation; for, soon after his return, having 
 fitted out three frigates at his own expence, he sail- 
 ed with them into Ireland, where, under Walter,] 
 Earl of Essex, he served as a volunteer, and perform- 
 ed many gallant exploits. After the death of his no-| 
 bie patron, he went back to England, and was in- 
 troduced to queen Elizabeth, who was pleased to 
 honor him with her countenance and protection; by 
 which means, he was enabled to undertake thai 
 grand expedition, which will render his name iir, 
 mortal in'the annals of English historv; we mean 1: 
 
 I 
 
DICTIONARY. 243 
 
 voyage into the South Seas, by the straits of Magel- 
 lan, which had never before that time, been attempt- 
 ed by any Englishman. 
 
 The fleet, with which he sailed on this extra- 
 ordinary undertaking, consisted only of five small 
 vessels, and 164 able men. With these, he sailed 
 from England, Dec. 15th 1577, entered the straits of 
 Magellan, Aug. 20th following, and passed them on 
 the 25th September, having then only his own ship ; 
 for he had taken the provisions out of two of the 
 others, and destroyed them ; and his vice Admiral, 
 captain Winter, had returned to England. On the 
 25th Nov. he came to Machao, from whence, after 
 a short stay, to refit his vessel, he continued his 
 voyage along the coasts of Chili and Peru, taking 
 every opportunity of capturing Spanish ships, and 
 attacking their settlements, til! his crew were sated 
 with plunder, and then coasting North-i\merica to 
 the height of 48 degrees, he endeavoured to find a 
 passage back to the Atlantic Ocean, but found it 
 impracticable. He landed, however, and took pos* 
 session of the country, which he called New Albion, 
 in the name of queen Elizabeth, and having careen- 
 ed his ship, set sail for the Moluccas, where he arriv- 
 ed 4th Nov. 1579. From thence, he shaped his 
 course towards England, and after having experienced 
 a series of difficulties, entered Plymouth harbour 
 Sd Nov. 1580, having completed this voyage round 
 the world in two years and about ten months. 
 
 His success in this voyage, and the immense riches 
 he brought home with him, became the general sub- 
 ject of conversation, some highly commending, whilst 
 others, as loudly decried his conduct, which, how- 
 ever, in a short time, met with the highest approba- 
 tion of queen Elizabeth, who, after having dined 
 on board his vessel, at Deptford, April 4th i581, 
 conferred upon him the honor of knigluhood. She 
 likewise, gave directions that his ship should be pre« 
 
244 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL ^^M 
 
 served as a monument of his own and his country's 
 glory. 
 
 If, however, there were some, who objected to 
 the manner in which he acquired so vast property, he - 
 was certainly entitled to much commendation, for the 
 manner in which he expended a great part of it. 
 The inhabitants of Plymouth, in particular, were 
 vastly indebted to his generosity and public spirit, 
 for about the year 1583, he undertook to bring water 
 into that town, through the want of which, it had, 
 till that time, been grievously distressed, and he per- 
 formed it by conducting thither a stream from the 
 distance of eight miles, that is to say, in a straight 
 line, for by the manner, in which he was obliged to 
 bring it, the course of it runs upwards of 20 miles. 
 
 In 1585, he sailed with a fleet to the West-Indies, 
 and took the cities ofSt. Jago, St. Domingo, Cartha- 
 gena and St. Augustine. In 1587, he went to Lis- 
 bon with a fleet of thirty sail, and having intelli- 
 gence, that a great number of vessels had assembled 
 in the bay of Cadiz, which were to have made a part 
 of the famous armada, destined for the invasion of 
 England, he, with great courage, entered the port, 
 nnd burnt upwards of 10,000 tons of shipping. lu 
 1588, when the armada from Spain was approach- 
 ing the English coast, he was appointed vice ad- 
 iniral, under lord Howard of Effingham, high ad- 
 miral of England, where fortune favored him as re- 
 markably as ever; for he made prize of a very large 
 galleon, commanded by Don Pedro de Valdez, who 
 was reputed the projector of this invasion. This lucky 
 affair happened in the following manner ; on July 22d, 
 Sir Francis, observing a large Spanish ship floating 
 at a distance from both fleets, sent his pinnace to 
 summon the commander to surrender. Valdez repli- 
 ed, with great solemnity, that they were 450 strong, 
 that he himself was Don Pedro, and, that as he had 
 a strong sense of honor, he would not yield, unless, 
 upon certain conditions, which he then proposed* 
 
DICTIO^IARY, 245 
 
 To thi^, the English hero replied, that he had no 
 time to parley, but that if he did not instantly sur- 
 render, he should soon find that Drake was no cow- 
 ard. Upon hearing a name mentioned, which was so 
 very terrible to the Spaniards, Pedro immediately 
 struck, and after having remained, above two years 
 prisoner in England, paid, as a ransom for his liber- 
 ty, the sum of 1 5,540 dollars. Drake's crew were 
 well recompensed for the capture of this ship, as 
 they found in it, an immense quantity of gold and sil- 
 ver which was divided amongst them. In an engage- 
 ment, which soon after took place, he likewise, be- 
 haved with the utmost gallantry, and contributed 
 materially to frustrate tlie design of the Spaniards, 
 which was afterwards rendered completely abortive, 
 by the commotion of the elements. 
 
 In 1589, an expedition was projected for the res- 
 toration of Antonio, king of Portugal, upon which 
 occasion. Sir John Norris was commander of the 
 land forces, and Sir Francis, admiral of the fioet; 
 but, in consequence of a disagreement between 
 these two officers, the attempt did not succeed. The 
 war with Spain continuing, a more extensive expe- 
 dition than any, which had been hitherto made, was 
 undertaken by Sir John Hawkins and Drake, against 
 their settlements in the West-Indies; but in this in- 
 stance, as well as the former, the commanders disa- 
 greeing about the plan, it did not turn out so succss- 
 inUy as was expected. A strong sense of these dis- 
 appointments, to a man like Drake, who, previous 
 to these two expeditions, had uniformly surmounted 
 all difficulties, must have been very chagrining, and 
 is supposed to have thrown him into a melancholy, 
 which accelerated his death. This happened on 
 board his own vessel, in the West-Indies, January 
 28th, 1596. 
 
246 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 DRAPER, (Sir William) an English Officer of 
 great merit, concerning the precise time of whose 
 birth, we are not intormed, is supposed to have re- 
 ceived his grammar learning at Eton, and to have 
 completed his education at King's college, Cam- 
 bridge. Having early discovered a predilection for 
 a military life, he entered into the army, and after 
 going through the regular gradations of service, was 
 employed about the year 1758, to raise a regiment 
 of foot, (the 79th) to serve in the East-Indies. The 
 regiment was soon com.pleted, at Chelmsford, in 
 Essex ; and colonel Draper, while the regiment lay 
 in that town, exhibited the model of an excellent of- 
 ficer, not merely by the strictest attention to military 
 evolutions and discipline, but by taking care' to incul- 
 cate on his men, a becoming reverence for the Su- 
 preme Being, as well as the necessity of a life of so- 
 iDriety and decorum; and, that they might not want 
 the best means of instruction, he purchased, at his 
 own expence, a large number of bibles and books 
 of common prayer, to be distributed amongst them. 
 
 It seems to have been long a prevalent idea, that 
 a devout life is incompatible with the character of a 
 gallant soldier. History, however, furnishes the man 
 of reflection, with a variety of examples, which 
 abundantly prove the contrary, and amongst those, 
 we may mention the subject of the present mem.oir, 
 who, though a steady observer of every moral and 
 religious duty, and studious that those under his 
 command, should be influenced by similar princi- 
 ples, was, notwithstanding, a brave and success- 
 ful commander. To Americans, however, there can 
 be no necessity of proving, that a life of piety is no 
 impediment to the acquisition of military fame. They 
 need only to reflect, that their immortal Washing- 
 ton, v/hose greatness in the art of war, stands unri- 
 valled in the annals of history, was uniformly stead- 
 fast in the practice, as well as the profession of the 
 christian religion. And, should those of our aspiring 
 
DICTIONARY. 247 
 
 youth, who, at a future period may be called to 
 arms in defence of their country, only bear his 
 glorious example steadfastly in view, our camps 
 would be converted from schools of profaneness and 
 immorality, into seminaries of improvement in every 
 moral and heroic virtue. 
 
 But to return from our digression, Mr. Draper hav- 
 ing arrived in the East-Indies, displayed the greatest 
 gallantry at Madras, in the year 1759, and to his ef- 
 forts, in conjunction with those of colonel Lawrence 
 and major Brereton, the raising of the siege of that 
 important fortress, was owing. In 1760, he return- 
 ed to England, and was promoted to the rank of bri- 
 gadier-general, in the expedition agsinst Belleisle, 
 which was taken from the French, June 7th 1761. 
 Being sent again to the East-Indies, he conducted in 
 conjunction with Admiral Cornish, the ^expedition 
 against Manilla, the capital of the Philippine Islands, 
 which surrendered on the 6th of Oct. 1765, and was 
 preserved from plunder, by a ransom of four millions 
 of dollars, which, however, the Spaniards never paid. 
 Soon after Mr. Draper's return to England, he was 
 rewarded for his services, by the honor of knight- 
 hood ; and upon the reduction of his regiment, the 
 79th, which had served so nobly in the East-Indies, 
 his majesty, unsolicited, gave him the 16th regiment 
 as an equivalent. This, however, he soon after 
 resigned, and retired on half pay. 
 
 In 1769, v/e find him engaged as a literary charac- 
 ter, in a contest with the celebrated political writer 
 Junius; and though it must be acknowledged, that 
 he was inferior to his antagonist, in point of acute- 
 ness and ingenuity, he was, nevertheless, entitled 
 to the praise of excellence in this kind of writing. In 
 October of the same year, he made a voyage to 
 South-Carolina, for the recovery of his health, and 
 embraced that opportunity of making the tour of 
 ]S]orth America. Y/hen he arrived in Nev^-York, he 
 made some stay in that city, where he married Mis's 
 
245 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 I 
 
 De Lancey, the daughter of the chief justice of the 
 province, but that lady died in July 1778, leaving 
 him a daughter, born in 1773, who survived her fa- 
 ther and enjoyed an ample fortune, which came to 
 her by her mother's relations. In 1779, Sir William 
 Draper, having then the rank of lieutenant-general, 
 was appointed lieutenant governor of Minorca. 
 During the siege of that important place, he was un- 
 fortunately upon ill terms with the governor, general 
 Murray, against whom, upon their return to England, 
 he exhibited 29 charges. The court martial deemed 
 27 frivolous and groundless, and for the other two, 
 the governor was ordered to be reprimanded; which 
 order was, hoW|!vcr, remitted, and Sir William Dra* 
 per was obliged to make an apology to the general, 
 for having instigated the trial against him. After 
 this, he settled at Bath, where he continued to live 
 in retirement till his death, which happened 8th 
 January 1787. 
 
 DRAYTON, (William) was a native of South 
 Carolina, and born in the year 1733, After having 
 received the first principles of his education from a 
 private tutor, who lived in the family, he was, about 
 the year 1747, placed under Thomas Corbett, Fsq. 
 who was then one of the most eminent lawyers of the 
 province, and was afterwards appointed sherrifF of 
 V/estminster, England. In 1750, he accompanied 
 that gentleman to London, and entered into the 
 middle temple, where he continued till the year 1754 
 at which time, he returned to his native country. 
 
 Although his abilities were confessedly great, yet 
 from a disinclination to the common practice of the 
 law, he soon quitted the bar ; still, however, he pur- 
 sued his studies and law reading, with the same dili- 
 gence, as if in full practice. 
 
 In or about the year 1768, he was appointed 
 chief justice in the province of East Florida, where 
 
DICTIONARY* 2iO 
 
 lie continued beloved and highly respected, both in 
 his private and public character, by the most worthy 
 part of that community. The troubles in America, 
 in 1775, were the commencement of his also. Un- 
 generous suspicions took possession of the governor*s 
 breast, who being a man of illiberal sentiments, used 
 every base and mean art to enthral the chief justice 
 and to extract, from him, his political sentiments, 
 and at last actually suspended him. On this, he 
 resolved on a voyage to England, which, how- 
 ever, he would have found extremely difficult to ac- 
 complish, had not the first characters of St. Augustine 
 supported him, in opposition to the governor, who 
 conscious of his own baseness, endeavoured as much 
 as possible to prevent his departure. The chief 
 justice had not been long in London, before he was 
 reinstated and sent back to St. Augustine, where, 
 however, as he was too open to disguise his senti- 
 ments, he soon incurred the displeasure of governor 
 Tonyn, by the unreserved manner in which he spoke 
 of that gentleman and his emissaries. This occasioned 
 a second suspension, in consequence of which, Mr, 
 Drayton returned to England, and took with him his 
 whole family, in the year 1778 or 79, being in hopes 
 that he should be there not only able to obtain re- 
 dress; but, also to punish the author of his wrongs. 
 Owing, however, cither to the distracted situation 
 of affairs in America, or to the superior influence of 
 of Mr. Tonyn's supporters in the British cabinet, he 
 was unable to effect his purpose. In the year 1783, 
 he again returned to America, where he was receiv- 
 ed by his countrymen with every mark of esteem, 
 which his many great and goocj qualities justly merit- 
 ed, and was soon after appointed judge of the admi- 
 ralty of South-Carolina. 
 
 The losses which he had sustained by the ungene- 
 rous, and unjustifiable proceedings of the governor 
 of East Florida, and from the change of property 
 which took place in consequence of the war, together 
 
 Vol. II, No. 13. 12 
 
250. NEW BIOGRAPHICAL' 
 
 with a numerous family, obliged him to apply him* 
 self to the practice of the law, in an advanced period 
 of life, and with a broken constitution. His abili- 
 ties, however, were soon discovered to stand amongst 
 the foremost at the bar, and his love of justice was 
 equal to his abilities as a lawyer. To the exertion 
 of the first, in support of the greatly injured in a 
 very intricate cause, may be justly attributed the pre- 
 cipitating the complaint of the gout and rheumatism, 
 so as to render him incapable, without great pain, 
 of attending to his profession for the last eighteen 
 or twenty months of his life. In March 1689, he' 
 was appointed one of the associate judges of the 
 State, which he resigned, the October following, on 
 being made a judge under the federal government. 
 This, however, he did not live long to enjoy, as he 
 died in the beginning of June 1790. 
 
 To sum up the whole of this gentleman's charac- 
 ter in a few words, it may be said, that, with a very 
 liberal education, improved by just obsertations, he 
 possessed the most liberal sentiments. He was be- 
 nevolent, kind and affable to all, and may, without 
 flattery, be allowed to have been a pattern in the so- 
 cial ties of husband, father, and friend. He receiv- 
 ed the information of his approaching end, a very 
 few hours before it took place, with a serenity and 
 fortitude, which did him the highest honor, and 
 took leave of his family with so much calmness, as 
 seemed even to soften their afflictions, and to com- 
 fort them under the great loss, they were about to 
 sustain, and he breathed his last without a groan. 
 
 DRINKER, (Edward) was born on the 24th 
 Dec. 1680. in a small cabin, near the present corner 
 cf Walnut and Second streets, in the city of Phila- 
 delphia. His parents came from a place called Bev- 
 erly, in Massachusetts. The banks of the Delaware 
 on'which the city of Philadelphia now stands, were 
 inhabited, at the time of his birth, by Indians end a 
 
DICTIONARY. 251 
 
 few Swedes and Hollanders. He often talked to his 
 companions of picking whortleberries and catching 
 rabbits on spots now the most populous and improv- 
 ed of the city. He recollected the second time Wil- 
 liam Penn came to Pennsylvania, and used to point 
 to the place, where the cabin stood, in which he and 
 his friends, who accompanied him, were accomodat- 
 ed upon their arrival. At the age of 12 years, he 
 went to Boston, where he served an apprentice-ship 
 to a cabinet maker. In the year 1745 he returned to 
 Phik-delphia, with his family, where he lived to the 
 time of his death. He v/as four times married, and 
 had eighteen children, all of whom were by his first 
 wife ; and not long before his death, he heard of the 
 birth of a grand-child to one of his grand-children, be- 
 ing the fifth in succession from himself. 
 
 Pie retained all his faculties till the last years-of his 
 life ; even his memory, which is so early and so gen- 
 erally diminished by age was but little impaired. He 
 not only remembered the incidents of his childhood, 
 or youth, but the events of latter years, and so faith- 
 ful was his memory to him, that his son said, he never 
 heard him tell the same story twice, but to different 
 persons and in diflferent companies. His eye sight 
 failed him many years before his death ; but his 
 hearing was uniformly perfect and unimpaired, and 
 his appetite continued good, till within a few wrecks 
 of his decease. He had lost all his teeth, thirty years 
 before his death ; but the want of suitable mastica- 
 tion of his food, did not prevent its speedy digestion, 
 nor impair his health. Whether the gums hardened 
 by age, supplied the place of his teeth, in a certain de- 
 gree, or whether the juices of the mouth and stomach 
 became so much more acrid by time, as to perform 
 the office of dissolving the food more speedily and 
 more perfectly, is not known ; but it has been often 
 observed, that old people are more subject to exces- 
 sive eating than young ones, and that they suffer few- 
 er inconveniences from it. He was inquisitive "al- 
 
^'S2 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 ternews in the last years of his life. Indeed, his edu- 
 cation did not lead him to increase the stock of his 
 ideas in any other way : but it is a fact well worthy 
 of being observed, that old age, instead of diminish- 
 ing, always increases the desire of knowledge, and 
 it must afford no small consolation to those, who ex- 
 pect to be old, to discover, that the infirmities, to 
 which the decays of nature expose the human body, 
 are rendered more tolerable by the enjoyments, 
 which are to be derived from the appetite for both 
 sensual and intellectual food. 
 
 Though it must be acknowledged, that there are 
 some instances of individuals, who, being naturally 
 possessed of an uncommonly strong and robust con- 
 stitution, have notwithstanding their frequent indul- 
 gence in the immoderate use of spirituous liqubrs, 
 attained to an advanced age; yet, from an attentive 
 observation of the mode of life, pursued by persons 
 tnost remarkable for longevity, we run no risquie in 
 hazarding the assertion, that nine tenths of those, who, 
 in the full enjoyment of health and tranquillity, have 
 either exceeded, or verged towards the age ot a cen- 
 tury, have been peculiarly distinguished by a strict 
 adherence to temperance and sobriety. This was re- 
 markably the case with Mr. Drinker, whom neither 
 hard labouF, company, the usual afflictions of human 
 life, nor the wastes of nature, ever led to an iniprop- 
 er, or an excessive use of strong drink ; and his son a 
 luan of 59 years of age declared, he had never seen 
 him intoxicated. For the last 25 years of his life, he 
 drank twice every day, a draught of toddy, made 
 with two table spoonfuls of spirits in half a pint of 
 water; but the time and manner, in vyhich he 
 used spirituous liquors, in all probability, instead of 
 impairing his constitution, contributed to lighten the 
 weight of his years, and to prolong his lite. 
 
 He enjoyed an uncommon share of health, inso- 
 jnuch that, in the course of his long life, he was never 
 confined more than three days to his bed, and h^ 
 
DICTIONARY. 252 
 
 often declared, that he had no idea of that most dis- 
 tressing pain the head-ache. The character of Mr, 
 Drinker, however, was not summed up in the negaK 
 tive quality of temperance ; he was a man of a mos-t 
 amiable temper, and, as old age had not curdled his^ 
 blood, he continued to the last, to be uniformly cheer- 
 ful anc^ kind to every body. His religious princi- 
 ples were as steady, as his morals were pure: he at- 
 tended public worship above thirty years, in the 
 Presbyterian church, under the Reverend and pious 
 Dr. Sproat, and died in the fullest assurance ot a hap-, 
 py immortality. 
 
 The life of this aged citizen, is marked with seve* 
 ral circumstances, which have seldom occurred in the 
 life of an individual; for he was, in all probability, 
 an eye witness to as great, if not a greater number 
 of remarkable events, than have fallen to the lot of 
 any one man to see, since the days of the Patriarchs. 
 He saw the same spot of earth, in the course of hia 
 own life, covered with wood and bushes, the recep- 
 tacles of wild beasts, and birds of prey, afterwards 
 become the seat of a great city, not only equal in 
 wealth and in arts to any in the new, but rivalling 
 in both, many of the first cities in the old world; hq 
 saw great and regular streets, where he had often 
 pursued hares and wild rabbits; he saw fine churches 
 rise upon morasses, where he used to hear nothing 
 but the croaking of frogs; great wharves and ware- 
 houses, where he had so often seen the Indians 
 draw their fish from the river, for their daily subsis- 
 tence ; and he i^aw ships of every size and use, in 
 those streams, where he had been used to see nothing 
 larger than an Indian canoe; and on the same spot, 
 where he had gathered berries, and had, very proba*- 
 bly, seen an Indian council fire, he saw their City 
 Hall erected, and that hall filled with legislators, as- 
 tonishing the world with their wisdom and virtue. 
 He also saw the first treaty ratified with the United 
 States of America, and the la^tp. powerful monarch 
 
254. NEWBIOGRAI'HIGAL 
 
 of France, with all the formality of parchment and 
 seals, on the same spot where he^ saw William 
 Penn ratify his -first and last treaties with the Indians : 
 And to conclude, he saw the beginning and the end 
 of the British empire in Pennsylvania. He had been 
 the subject of seven crowned heads ; but, when he 
 heard of the^ many oppressive and unconstifutional 
 acts passed in Great Britain, he bought them all, 
 and gave them to his great-grai^dsonsto make kites of, 
 and embracing the liberty and independence of his 
 country, in his withered arms, and triumphing in 
 the last year of his life, in the happiness of his coun- 
 try, he died on the 17th Nov. 1782, aged one hun- 
 dred and three years. 
 
 DRYDEN, (JoHi^) one of the most emenent Eng- 
 iish poets of the seventeenth century, was descended 
 of a genteel family in Huntingdonshire, and born, in 
 that county at Aldwincle August 9th, 1631. He 
 was educated in grammar learning at Westminster 
 school, from whence he was rem.oved to Trinity Col- 
 lege, Cambridge in 1650, of which he afterwards be- 
 came fellow ; yet, in his earlier days, he gave no ex- 
 traordinary indication of genius; for even the year 
 before he quitted the university, he v/rote a poem, 
 *' On the death of the Lord Hastings," which was by 
 no means a presage of that amazing perfection in 
 poetical powers, which he afterwards possessed. 
 
 On the death of Oliver Cromwell, in 1658, he 
 wrote some heroic stanzas to his memory ; but, on the 
 restoration, being desirous of ingratiating himself with 
 the new court, he in 1660, wrote a poem intitled 
 *^ Astrea Redux," on the happy restoration and 
 return of his sacred majesty Charles H. In 1662, 
 he addressed a poem, " To the Lord Chancellor Hyde, 
 presented on New-Years day," and, in the same year, 
 published "A Satire on the Dutch." His next pro- 
 duction was "Annus Mirabiiis, the Year of Wonders 
 
DICTIONARY^ 255 
 
 1G66, an Historical Poem," in celebration of the 
 Duke of York's victory over the Dutch. His repu- 
 tation as a poet was now so well established, that this 
 together with his attachment to the court, procured 
 him the place of poet laureat and historiographer to 
 Charles II. in 1668. About this time, also his incli- 
 nation to write for the stage seems first to have shewn 
 itself. He accordingly, in this year, published '^ An 
 Essay upon Dramatic Poesy," the principal design of 
 which was to vindicate the honour of the English 
 writers, from the censure of those, who, as he thought, 
 unjustly preferred the French. In 1669, his first 
 play, a comedy called,"The Wild Gallant," was acted 
 at the Theatre Royal; but with so little success, that 
 if the author had not had a peculiarly strong inclina- 
 tion to dramatic writing, he would have been deter- 
 red from any further attempt in it. Mr. Dryden, 
 however, by no means, dismayed, soon after published 
 his " Indian Emperor," which finding a more favour- 
 able reception, encouraged him to proceed; and that 
 with such rapidity, that, in the key to the Duke of 
 Buckingham's " Rehearsal," he is recorded to have 
 engaged himself by contract, for the writing of four 
 plays annually; and indeed, in the years 1679, and 
 1680, he appears to have fulfilled that contract. To 
 this unhappy necessity, which our author lay under, 
 are to be attributed all those irregularities, all those 
 bombastic flights, and sometimes even puerile exu- 
 berances, for which he [has been so severely critici- 
 zed; and which, in the unavoidable hurry, in which 
 he wrote, it was impossible he should find time, either 
 for lopping away, or correcting. 
 
 In 1675, the Earl of Rochester, whose envious dis- 
 position would not permit him to see growing merit 
 meet its due reward, and was, therefore, sincerely 
 chagrined at the very first applause, with which 
 Mr. Dryden's dramatic pieces had been received, 
 was determined, if possible, to shake his interest at 
 court, and succeeded so far as to recommend Mr. 
 
25^ NEW BIOGSIAPHICAJ,' 
 
 Crowne, an author, by no means, of equal merit t^ 
 write a masque for the court, Avhich certainly be- 
 longed to Mr. Dryden's office as poet laureat. Not 
 was this the only attack, which Mr. Dryden's 
 justly acquired fame drew on him. For the duke of 
 Buckingham had, some years before, most severely 
 ridiculed several of our author's plays in his admired 
 piece called " The Rehearsal." But though the in- 
 trinsic wit, which runs through that performance, 
 cannot even, to this day, fail of exciting our laugh** 
 ter, yet, at the same time, it ought not to be the 
 standard, on which we should fix Mr. Dryden's po* 
 etical reputation, if we consider, that the pieces 
 there ridiculed, are not any of those looked on as the 
 chief works of this author 5 that the very passages 
 burlesqued, are frequently, in their original places, 
 much less ridiculous than when thus detached -, and^ 
 lastly, that the various inimitable beauties, which 
 the ill-natured critic has sunk in oblivion, are infi- 
 nitely more numerous than the deformities, which he 
 has thus industriously brought forth to our more im- 
 mediate inspection. 
 
 Mr. Dryden, however, did not suffer these attacks 
 to pass with im{)unity y for, in 1679, there came out 
 *' An Essay upon Satire,'* written jointly by that 
 gentleman and Lord Mulgrave, containing some ve- 
 ry severe reflections, on the Earl of Rochester and the 
 Dutchess of Portsmouth, who, it is not improbable, 
 might be a joint instrument, in the above mentioned 
 affront shewn to Mr. Dry(ien ; and, in 1671, he 
 published his " Absalom and Achitophel," in which 
 the well known character of Zimri, drawn for the 
 Duke of Buckingham, is certainly severe enough to 
 repay all the ridicule thrown on him by that noble- 
 man in the character of Bays. The resentment 
 shewn by Rochester and Buckingham, upon this oc- 
 casion, was very different. The former, who was a 
 coward, as well as a man of depraved morals, basely 
 hired three ruflians to cudgel Dryden in a coffee house \ 
 
DICTIONARY. 257 
 
 but the latter, as we are told, in a more open man- 
 ner, took the task upon himself; and, at the same 
 time, presented him with a purse containing a consi- 
 derable sum of money, telling him, that he gave 
 him the beating as a punishment for his impudence, 
 but bestowed the gold upon him, as a reward for 
 his wit. 
 
 In 1680, was published a translation of *^ Ovid's 
 Epistles," in English verse, by several hands ; two 
 of which, viz. " Canace to Macareus," and " Dido 
 to iEneas," were by Dryden, who also wrote the 
 preface. In 1682, came out his " Religio Laici," 
 designed as a defence of revealed religion, and of the 
 excellence and authority of the scriptures against deists, 
 papists, &c. Soon after the accession of King James II. 
 however, our author changed his religion for that of the 
 church of Rome, and wrote two pieces in vindication of 
 the tenets of that church, viz. " A Defence of the pa- 
 pers written by the late King,'* found in his strong box ; 
 and the celebrated poem, afterwards answered by 
 Lord Halifax, entitled ^^The Hind and the Panther." 
 By this extraordinary step, he not only involved him- 
 self in controversy, and incurred much ridicule from 
 cotemporary wits; but, on the completion of the re- 
 volution, being, on account of his newly chosen re- 
 ligion, disqualified from bearing any office under the 
 government, he was stripped of the laurel, which, to 
 his still greater mortification, was bestowed on Rich- 
 ard Flecknoe, a man, whom he considered as his 
 greatest enemy. This circumstance occasioned his 
 writing the very severe poem called, "Mac Fleck- 
 noe." 
 
 Mr. Dryden's circumstances had never ben af- 
 fluent ; hence as he was now deprived of the only 
 fixed income, which he had ever enjoyed, he found 
 himself reduced to the necessity of writing for a mere 
 living. We consequently find him, from this period, 
 engaged in works of labour, as well as genius, viz. 
 the translating the works of others, and to this necssi- 
 Vol. 11, No. 13. K2 
 
*-258 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 iy of his, the British nation stands indebted for some 
 of the best translations extant. In the year he lost 
 the laurel, he published the life of St. Francis Xavier, 
 from the French. In 1693, came out a translation 
 of Juvenal and Persius, in the first of which, he had 
 a considerable hand, and of the latter the entire exe-i 
 cution. In 1697, was published his English translation 
 of " Virgil,** which still does, and perhaps, ever will, 
 stand foremost amongst the attempts made on that 
 author. The fugitive pieces of Mr. Dryden, such as 
 prologues, epilogues, epitaphs, elegies, songs &c. 
 are too numerous to specify here. The greatest part 
 of them, however, are to be found in a collection of 
 miscellanies in 6 vol. 12mo. His last work is what 
 is called his " Fables,** which consists of many of the 
 most interesting stories in Homer, Ovid, Boacace, 
 and Chaucer, translated or modernized in the most 
 elegant and poetical manner, together with some 
 original pieces, among which is that amazing ode on 
 **St. Cecilia's Day,'* which, though written in the 
 very decline of the author's life, and, at a period wh^n 
 old age and distress conspired, as it were, to damp his 
 poetic ardour, and clip the wings of fancy, yet posses- 
 ses so much of both, as w^ould be sufficient to have 
 rendered him immortal, had he never written a shigle 
 line besides. 
 
 Dryden married the sister of the earl of Berkshire, 
 by whom he had three sons, Charles, John, and 
 Henry. Of the eldest of these, there is a circumstance 
 related by Charles Wilson, Esq. in his life of Con- 
 greve, which, appears so well attested, and is in itself 
 of so very extraordinary a nature, that, though we, in 
 general, pay very little attention to such relations, we 
 cannot avoid giving it a place. Dryden, with all his 
 understanding, was weak enough to be fond of judi- 
 cial astrology, and used to calculate the nativity of 
 his children. 
 
 When his lady was in labour with his son Charles, 
 pi|evious to his withdrawmg from the room,, he laid 
 
DICTIONARY. 259 
 
 Wis watch on the table, begging one of the ladies then 
 present, in the most earnest manner, to take exact 
 notice of the very minute the child was born, which 
 she did and acquainted him with it. About a week 
 after, when his lady was pretty well recovered, Mr. 
 Dryden took occasion to tell her, that he had been 
 calculating the child's nativity ; and observed with 
 grief, that he was born in an evil hour. " If he lives 
 to arrive at the 8th year,'* says he, " he will go near 
 to a violent death, on his very birth day j but, if he 
 should escape, as I see but small hopes, he will in the 
 23d year, be under the very same evil direction; and, 
 if he should escape that also, the S3d or 34th, year is, 
 I fear"— here, he was interrupted by the immoderate 
 grief of his lady, who could no longer bear to hear 
 calamity prophesied to her son. The time at last 
 came, and August was the inauspicious month, in 
 which young Dryden, was to enter into the eight year 
 of his age. Mr. Dryden being, at that time, at his 
 leisure, was invited to the country seat of the carl of 
 Berkshire, his brother-in-lav^, whilst his lady was in- 
 vited to her uncle Mordaunt's, to pass the remain- 
 der of the summer. When they came to divide the 
 children, his wife would have him take John, and 
 suffer her to take Charles; but to this Mr. Dryden 
 would by no means consent, and they parted in anger, 
 he taking Charles with him, and she being obliged 
 to be content with John. When the fatal day came, 
 the anxiety of the lady's spirits occasioned such an 
 effervescence of blood, as threw her into so violent a 
 fever, that her life was despaired of, till a letter came 
 from Mr. Dryden, reproving her for her womanish 
 credulity, and assuring her, that her child was well, 
 which recovered her spirits, and, in six weeks after, 
 she received an ecclaircisemcnt of the whole affair. 
 Mr. Dryden, either through fear of being reckonecl 
 superstitious, or thinking it a science beneath his 
 study, was extremely cautious of letting any one know, 
 that he was a dealer in astrology. He could not. 
 
260 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 therefore, excuse himself, on his son's anniversary, 
 from a general hunting match, which Lord Berkshire 
 had made, and to which all the adjacent gentlemen 
 were invited. When he went out, he took care to 
 set the boy a double exercise in the Latin tongue, 
 which he taught his children himself, and, at the same 
 time, gave him the strictest charge, not to stir out of 
 the room till his return, well knowing that the task, 
 which he had set him, would take him up longer 
 time. Charles was performing his duty in obedience 
 to his father; but, as fate would have it, the stag 
 made towards the house and the servants hastened 
 out to see the sport. One of them took young Dry- 
 den by the hand, and led him out to see it also, when 
 just as they came to the gate, the stag, being at bay 
 with the dogs, made a bold push and leaped over the 
 court wall, which was very low and old, and the dogs 
 following, threw down a part of the wall, 10 yards in 
 length, under which Charles Dryden lay buried. He 
 was immediately dug out; and after 6 weeks lan- 
 guishing in a dangerous way, he recovered. Thus 
 the first part of Dryden's prediction was fulfilled. 
 
 In the 23d year of his age, Charles fell from the 
 top of a high tower belonging to the Vatican, at 
 Rome, and was severely hurt. He, however, recover- 
 ed, but was ever after, in a languishing sickly state. 
 In the S3d year of his age, being then in England, 
 he was unfortunately drowned, at Windsor, where he 
 had, along with another gentleman, swam twice 
 across the Thames, but returning a third time, it was 
 supposed he was taken with the cramp, because he 
 called out for help, though too late. Thus the fa- 
 therms calculation proved but too prophetical. 
 
 Upon this extraordinary story, supposing it to be 
 true, in all its partSy which, however, it is very prob- 
 able, was not the case, v^^e shall beg leave to trouble 
 our readers with a short comment. In an age of 
 credulity, when multitudes wasted their time in cal- 
 culating the nativity of children, and ctherv/ise en- 
 
DICTIONART. 261 
 
 deavouring to remove the veil of futurity, could ther^^ 
 be any thing more extraordinary, in an individual, 
 out of a vast multitude, having once, perhaps, in a 
 century, conjectured a few things, which might 
 afterwards happen, than there is in one of our mod- 
 ern observers of dreams, who, perhaps, out of many 
 thousands of his visions, may occasionally mark one, 
 which he may afterwards find, as he thinks, to ba 
 completely fulfilled ? The truth is, that, when an 
 occurrence has happened to such a person, bearing 
 the most distant analogy to any thing, which he had 
 previously dreamed, he carefully compares the cir- 
 cumstances together and treasures them up in his 
 memory, as an irrefragable proof of the prophetic 
 nature of dreams, whilst millions of foolish vagaries 
 and chimerical fancies which, at other times, present 
 themselves to his imagination, are allowed to pass 
 without the smallest observation. 
 
 Providence, in concealing from mortals the book of 
 fate, has wisely removed from human roresight the 
 appointed hour both of prosperity and adversity. 
 Could we ascertain the precise time we are to expe- 
 rience the former, every exertion, on our part, would 
 be unnecessary, and our good fortune, by long antici- 
 pation, would lose its relish. On the other hand, 
 were we able to prognosticate the appointed hour 
 of calamity and death, the thought of impending 
 evils, which it v^^as beyond our power to prevent, 
 would fill our minds with unavailing despondency, 
 and render the numerous ills of life, which we now 
 bear with so little patience, still more calamitous and 
 unsupportable. Instead, therefore, of these futile and 
 nugatory attempts to dive into futurity, the knowledge 
 of which, whilst it would be injurious to some, could 
 be of no real advantage to any, let us endeavour to 
 conduct ourselves, at all times as in the presence of 
 an omniscient creator, to whom we are accountable 
 for all our actions, and this we may assert, without 
 usurping the province of the preacher, will be found 
 
262 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 to be the only safe course, by which mortals can be 
 enabled to pass through life with true dignity and 
 fortitude, and to encounter even death itself without| 
 fear. 
 
 But to return to our subject. Mr. Dryden, after a 
 long life harrassed v/ith the most laborious of all fa- 
 tigues, viz. that of the mind, and continually made 
 anxious by distress and difHcuity, departed this life 
 on the first of May 1701, in the 71st. year of his age, 
 and was buried in Westminster abbey, where an ele- 
 gant monument was afterwards erected to his mem- 
 ory by Sheffield Duke of Buckingham. 
 
 Mr. Dryden's character has been very dIiFerently< 
 drawn by different hands, some of which have exalt 
 ed it to the highest degree of commendation, anc 
 others debased it by the severest censure. The lat- 
 ter, however, we must charge to that strong spirit of 
 party, which prevailed, during great part of Dryden's 
 time, and ought, therefore, to be taken with great al- 
 lowances. Were we, indeed, to form a judgment o' 
 the author from some of his dramatic writings, we 
 should, perhaps, be apt to conclude him a man of the 
 most licentious morals, many of his comedies con- 
 taining a great share of looseness, even extending to 
 obscenity. In his vindication, however, it may be 
 observed, that the manners of the age in which he 
 lived, were much grosser, or perhaps we should rather 
 say more simple than they are at present ; and that 
 even in the highest circles, and in the company of the 
 most elegant women, many things were said, without 
 giving oifence to the most fastidious, which would 
 now be reckoned highly indelicate and improper. 
 
 But it will not, be so easy to vindicate him from 
 the charge of unsteadiness, in his political and reli- 
 gious principles, both of which he appears to have 
 been desirous of accommodating to the several revo- 
 lutions, which took place in church and state. This, 
 however, say his apologists, might, in some measure, 
 have been owing to that natural timidity and diffi- 
 
DICTIONARY.^ 263 
 
 dence In his disposition, which almost all writers 
 seem to agree in his possessing. Congreve, whose 
 authority cannot be suspected, has given us such an 
 account of him, as makes him appear no less amiable 
 in his private character as a man, than he was illus- 
 trious in his public one as a poet. In the former 
 light, that gentleman represents him, in every respect 
 not only blameless, but amiable; and "as to his wri- 
 tings,'* says he, " no man hath written in our lan- 
 guage, so much and so various matter, and in so 
 various manners so well. Another thing, I may say 
 was very peculiar to him ; which is, that his parts did 
 not decline with his years, but that he was an improv- 
 ing writer to the last, even to near 70 years of age. 
 He was equally excellent in verse as in prose. His 
 prose had all the clearness imaginable together with 
 all the nobleness of expression, all the graces and 
 ornament proper and peculiar to it, without deviating 
 into the language or diction ot poetry. 1 have heard 
 him frequently own with pleasure, that, if he had any 
 talent for English prose, it was owing to his having 
 often read the writings of the great Archbishop 
 Tiliotson. His versification and his numbers he 
 could learn from nobody, for he^first possessed those 
 talents in perfection, in the English language. In 
 his poems, his diction is, whenever his subject re- 
 quires it, so sublimely, and so truly poetical, that its 
 essence, like that of pure gold, cannot be destroyed. 
 What he has done in any one species, or distinct 
 kind of writing, v/ould have been sufficient to have 
 acquired him a great name. If he had written no- 
 thing but his prefaces, or nothing but his songs, or 
 his prologues, each of them would have entitled 
 him to the preference and distinction of excelling in 
 his kind." 
 
264* NEW BIOGRAPHICAI, 
 
 DUCK, (Stephen), a very extraordinary person, 
 who, from being originally a common labourer, be* 
 came first a poet and then a parson, was born ia 
 England about the beginning of the last century. 
 After he had attained, at a village school, the first 
 principles of his education, which reached no farther 
 than to enable him to read and write English, he 
 v/as successively engaged in the several lowest em^ 
 ployments of a country life. .t i 
 
 It is said, however, that he, even from his infan- 
 cy, discovered a great fondness for rhyming, and, 
 that, as he grew up, he used frequently to amuse 
 himself, whilst at work, in turning his thoughts into 
 verse. His talent in this way greatly excited the ad- 
 miration of his brother cottagers, to comply with 
 whose solicitations, as well as to gratify his own 
 vanity, he was, at length, induced to commit some 
 of his effusions to writing. Thus his fame began to 
 spread, and he became the subject of general conver- 
 sation throughout the neighbourhood. 
 
 In this happy, though humble situation, it was 
 his fate, or rather misfortune to attract the attention 
 of queen Caroline, the spouse of George II. whoj 
 because he had discovered certain literary and poeti 
 cal tendencies, which, in a man of common classsi- 
 cal education, would not have been considered as 
 above mediocrity, took him under her immediate 
 protection, and determined to push him forward in 
 the world. He was, therefore, admitted into holy 
 orders, and soon after preferred to the living of By- 
 fleet, in Surry. His abilities were, however, much 
 more conspicuous, and he himself more happy, ir 
 his primitive station, than in his advancement, thougl: 
 it is said, he was considerably followed after as i 
 preacher. 
 
 Had Mr. Duck been promoted from' the barn and 
 stable to the post of a steward, or a rural superin- 
 tendant, his ambition and interest would have beer 
 gratified in a line of life, to which his first hopes anc 
 
DICTIONARY. 265 
 
 earliest habits were formed ; had a farm of fifty pounds 
 sterling a year, been stocked and presented to him, 
 it would have been afBuence, when compared with 
 the original wages of his situation; but born and 
 transplanted, if we may be allowed the expression, 
 by the violent hand of patronage, he was obliged to 
 associate with men every way his superior in acquire- 
 ments, and felt himself unable to support that repu- 
 tation, which the notice of a queen had, in some de- 
 gree, created for him. 
 
 Thus that pride, which amongst his original as- 
 sociates had elevated him to the dignity of " a giant 
 among the pigmies, a one-eyed monarch among the 
 blind," received a mortal wound, and falling at length 
 into a low spirited melancholy way, he, in a fit of 
 lunacy, flung himself into the Thames and was 
 drowned, in June 1756. 
 
 DUNS, (John), commonly called Duns Scotus, a 
 celebrated theologian of the order of St. Francis, 
 was born in the year 1274, but whether in England, 
 Scotland or Ireland, hath long been a matter of dis- 
 pute amongst the learned of each nation. We are 
 told that when a boy, he became accidentally known 
 to two Franciscan friars, who finding him to be a 
 youth of very extraordinary capacity, took him to 
 their convent at Newcastle, and afterwards persuaded 
 him to become one of their fraternity. From thence 
 he was sent to Oxford, where he was made fellow 
 of Merton college, and we are informed, that his 
 fame was so great, that not less than 30,000 students 
 attendedthere from different quarters to hear his lec- 
 tures. 
 
 In the year 1394, he went to Paris, where he so 
 distinguished himsslf by the acuteness of his parts, 
 and especially by his manner of disputing, that he 
 acquired the name of " Doctor Subtilis," i.e. "The 
 Subtile Doctor." Here he was honoured first with 
 
 Vol. II. No. 13. L2 
 
266 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 the degree of Bachelor, then of Doctor of Divinity; 
 and in 1307 was appointed regent of the divinity 
 school' During his residence at Paris, the famous 
 controversy about the wimaculaie conception of the 
 Virgin Mary arose. Albertus Magnus maintained,: 
 that she was born in original sin : Scotus advanced' 
 2G0 arguments in favour of the contrary opinion, and- 
 convinced the university of Paris, that she was really 
 conceived immaculate. '^Fhis important subject, how-^ 
 ever, continued to be disputed till the year 1496, 
 after the council of Basil, when the university of 
 Paris made a decree that no student, who did not 
 believe the immaculate conception, should be admit- 
 ted to a degree. 
 
 Our author had not been long at Paris, when the 
 general of his order, wishing that the benefit of his 
 vast talents should be diffused as widely as possible^ 
 ordered him to remove to Cologne, where he was re- 
 ceived with great pomp and ceremony by the magis- 
 trates and nobles of that city; but here he died of an 
 apoplexy soon after his arrival, in the year 1308, and 
 in the 34th year of his age. Some w-riters have re- 
 ported that Scotus was buried in an epileptic lit, and, 
 that upon removing his bones, he appeared to have 
 turjwd himself in his coftin. 
 
 This doctor subtilis, was doubtless one of the most 
 complete wranglers of his time, admirably well versed 
 in scholastic divinity, and a most indefatigable writer; 
 but, however important his huge volumes might have 
 been formerly reckoned to society, the opinion of the 
 w^orld is so different at present, that it would be, 
 perhaps, difficult to find an individual, who would 
 have sufficient patience to read a single page of them. 
 He was the author of a new sect of school men called 
 *S(:6>/m75' who opposed the opinions of the Thomists, 
 so called from St. Thomas Aquinas. The last edition 
 of his writings, was published at Lyons in 1630, in 12 
 vol's folio. 
 
DICTIONARY. 267 
 
 DUPIN, (Lewis Ellis) a learned doctor- of the 
 Sorbonne, and one of the greatest critics of his time, 
 especially in ecclesiastical matters was born at Paris, in 
 1657, After having, with great success, gone through 
 his course of grammar learning, an J philosophy, in the 
 college of Harcourt, he devoted himself to the service 
 of the church, and to render himself better qualified 
 for the duties of his important profession, he employed 
 a great part of his time in the reading of councils, 
 fathers, and ecclesiastical writers; and being found, at 
 his examination, amongst the first rank, he was admit- 
 ted doctor at the Sorbonne in 168 4. 
 
 He than began to his " Bibliotheque Universelle 
 des auteurs Ecclesiastiques," the first volume of which 
 appeared in 1686; but as he had treated some ec- 
 clesiastical writers, with considerable freedom, he 
 gave such offence, that M. de Harlay archbishop of 
 Paris, obliged him to retract many propositions and 
 suppressed the work. He was soon after, however^ 
 permitted to carry it on, by only making a small 
 change in the title of it from " Bibliotheque Univer- 
 selle" to '* Bibliotheque Nouvelle." This great work 
 continued in several successive volumes, and, though 
 it was fully sufficient to occupy the life of an ordinary 
 man, it did not hinder Dupin from obliging the world 
 with many other works, the chief of which are, 1. 
 ** Prolegomena to the Old and New Testament," by 
 way of supplement to the " Bibliotheque." 2. " A 
 Bibliotheque of authors separate from the communion 
 of the church of Rome, who flourished in the I7tli 
 century." 3. " A Treatise on the ancient discipline of 
 the church." 4. " Notes upon the Psalms and the Pen- 
 tateuch." 5. "A Defence of the Censure, which the 
 Faculty of Theology at Paris passed upon Father Le 
 Comte's Memoirs of China'' 6. " An Analysis of the 
 Apocalypse." 7. " A Profane History." 8. " A Me- 
 thod of studying Divinity," &;c. &c. &c. 
 
 Dupin was, Jikewise, for many years. Professor of 
 Philosophy in the Royal college, and died at Paris^ 
 
268 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 1 
 
 in 1719, aged sixty-two jears. He was a man of 
 prodigious reading, and possessed of a happy facility 
 in committing his thoughts to writing. He had also 
 an uncommon talent in analyzing the works of aa 
 author, which makes his Ecclesiastical Bibliotheque 
 so highly valuable. 
 
 DYER, (Samuel), the son of an eminent jewel- 
 ler, was born in London about the year 1725, and 
 designed by his parents, both of whom were reli-i 
 gious people, for the dissenting ministry. After be- 
 ing instructed in the first principles of learning, in 
 London, he was sent to Dr. Doddridge's academy atj 
 Northampton, and having finished his studies in that 
 seminary, he was removed to Glasgow, where, un- 
 der Dr. Hutcheson, he was instructed in the writings; 
 of the Greek moralists, and went through several 
 courses of ethics, and metaphysics. To complete 
 'this plan of a learned education, the elder Mr. Dyer, 
 by the advice of his pastor, the Rev. Dr. Chandler, 
 sent his son to Leyden, with a view to his improve-' 
 ment in the Hebrew literature, under Schultens, a ce 
 jebrated professor in that university. After two years . 
 stay abroad, Mr. D3^er returned, eminently qualified 
 for the exercise of that profession, to which his studies 
 had been directed, and great were the hopes of his 
 friends, that he would become one of its ornaments. 
 To speak of his attainments in knowledge, he was 
 an excelent classical scholar, a great mathematician 
 and natural philosopher, well versed in the Hebrew, 
 and master of the Latin, French and Italian langua-.: 
 ges. Added to these endowments, he was of atem* 
 per so mild, and in his conversation and demeanour 
 so modest and unassuming, that he engaged the at« 
 tention and affection of all around him. 
 
 h was now expected that Mr. Dyer would attach 
 Mmself to the profession, for which sojiberal and ex- 
 pensive an education was intended to qualify him, and 
 
 I 
 
DICTIONARY. 269 
 
 that be would, under all the discouragements that 
 attend nonconformity, appear as a public teacher, 
 aod by preaching, give a specimen of his talents; 
 and this was the more wished, as he was a constant 
 attendant on divine worship, and the whole pi his 
 behaviour suited to such a character. But being 
 pressed by several of his friends, he discovered an 
 aversion from the undertaking, which was, at first, 
 conceived to arise from modesty, but, some tiinej 
 after, found to have sprung from another cause. 
 
 In this seeming state of suspence, his friend Pr. 
 Chandler found out for him an employment exactly 
 suitable to his talents. Dr. Daniel Williams, a dis- 
 senting minister, who had, by marriage, become the 
 owner of a great estate, and was the founder of a li- 
 brary for the use of those of his profession, by his 
 will had directed, that certain controversial, and 
 other religious tracts of his writings, should be trans- 
 lated into Latin, and printed the second year after his 
 death, and five hundred of each given away, and this 
 request to be repeated, when that number was dis- 
 posed of. 
 
 This part of his will had remained unexecuted 
 from about the vear 1715, and Dr. Chandler beinij 
 a trustee for the performance of it, and empowered 
 to offer an equivalent to any one, that he should think 
 equal to the undertaking, proposed it to Mr. Dyer, 
 and he accepted it ; but small was his progress in it, 
 before it began to grow irksome, and the completing 
 of the translation was referred to some one less averse 
 from labour than himself. 
 
 Having thus got rid of an employment, to which 
 no persuasion of his friends, nor prospects of future 
 advantage could reconcile him, he became, as it were, 
 emancipated from puritanical forms and modes of 
 living. He commenced a man of the world, and, 
 with a sober and temperate deliberation, resolved on 
 a participation of its pleasures and enjoyments. His 
 company, though he was rather a silent than a talka- 
 
270 KEW BlOGJlAP'ttlCAL ^ 
 
 tive man, was courted by many, and he had frequent 
 invitations to dinners, to suppers, and to card parties. 
 By these means, he insensibly became a votary of j 
 pleasure, and to justify his choice, had reasoned him-j 
 self into a persuasion, that, not only in the moral go- J 
 vernment of the world, but in human manners, through 
 all the changes and fluctuations of fashion and ca- 
 price, " whatever is, is right." With this, and other ^ 
 opinions tending equally to corrupt his mind, it must i 
 be supposed, that he began to grow indifferent to the^ 
 strict practice of religion, and the event shewed itself* 
 in a gradual declination from the exercise of it, and 
 his easy compliance with invitations to Sunday eve- 
 ning parties, in which mere conversation was not the 
 chief amusement. 
 
 In his discourses, he was exxeedingly close and re- 
 served ; it was nevertheless to be remarked of him, 
 that he looked upon the restraints on a life of plea- 
 sure with an unapproving eye. He had an exquisite 
 palate, and had improved his relish for meats and 
 drinks up to such a degree of refinement, that he 
 was once found in a fit of melancholy, occasioned by 
 a discovery, that he had lost his taste for olives. He 
 was a man of deep reflection, and very able in con- 
 versation on most topics, and after he had determin- 
 ed on his course of life, which was to be of no pro- 
 fession^ but to become a gentleman at large, h« 
 5eemed to adopt the sentiments of a man of fashion. 
 In a visit to France, he met with a book entitled, 
 " Les Moeurs," with which he at last, became sa 
 greatly dehghted, that, after a conflict with his na- 
 tural indolence, in which he came off victor, he 
 formed a resolution to translate it into English ; but 
 after a small progress in the work, the enemy rallied 
 and defeated him. His printer had worked off only 
 a few sheets, when Mr. Dyer*s stock of copy was ex- 
 hausted and his bookseller was under the necessity of 
 getting the translation finished by another hand. 
 
 Dyer's support in the idle way of life he had made 
 
DICTTOITARY. 2? I 
 
 choice of, was the produce of a patrimony in the 
 funds, which could not be great, his father from 
 whom he derived it, having left besides him, a vvi- 
 dow, an elder son and a daughter. Dr, Johnson and 
 others, that he might be getting something, strongly 
 pressed him to write the life of Erasmus ; but he 
 could not be induced to undertake it, A work of 
 less labour, but less worthy of him, he was, howe4 
 ver, prevailed on to engage in ; this was a revision 
 of the old translation of " Plutarch's Lives," by sev- 
 eral hands. He undertook, and with heavy comi^ 
 plaints of the labour of his task, completed it, and 
 had for his reward, the sum of 888 dollars. 
 
 While he was a member of the Literary, club, 
 Johnson suspected, that his religious principles, for 
 which he at first honoured him, were giving way, 
 and it was whispered that Mr. Dyer's religion was 
 that of Socrates. What farther advances he made in 
 Theism, are unknown ; but he is said to have denied 
 in the philosophical sense oi the term, the freedon of. 
 the human will, and he settled in materialism and its 
 consequent tenets. 
 
 As all his determinations were slow and deliberate,' 
 and seemed to be the result of reason and reflection, 
 the change in his principles and conduct here noted 
 was gradual. Of this the first symptoms were an 
 imbecility to resist any temptation abroad on a Suiii?' 
 day evening, that should ease him of the trouble' ot 
 such exercises, as he had been accustomed to perform 
 in the family of his mother, and an eager curiosity 
 in the perusal of books, not merely of entertainment, 
 but of such, as together with the knowledge of the 
 world, furnished his mind with such palliatives aft 
 vice, as made him half a convert to it. ■..:.': n- 
 
 W^hile his mind was in this state of trepidation, "a. 
 young gentleman, who had been a fellow student 
 with him at Leyden, arrived in England, disordered 
 in his health, of whom and whose conversation Mr, 
 Dyer became so enamoured, that for the sake of keep- 
 
2i2 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 ing his company, he was almost lost to all the rest of 
 his friends. To those with whom he Vv^as most inti- 
 mate, he would, notwithstanding the closeness of his-j 
 nature describe him and display his attractions, which, 
 as he represented them, were learning, wit, polite- 
 ness, elegance, particularly in articles of dress, free 
 and open manners, a genteel figure, and other per- 
 sonal charms, which rendered him the delight of th 
 female sex. Jt was a question, which some of thos 
 with whom he was thus open, would frequently ask 
 him " What are the most of these qualifications to 
 you, Mr. Dyer, who are a man of a different cha- 
 racter? You, who know the value of wisdom, and 
 have a mind fraught with knowledge, which you are 
 capable of applying to many beneficial purposes, can 
 never be emulous of those distinctions, which dis- 
 criminate a man of pleasure from a philosopher:" his 
 answers to which served only to shew that his judg*f 
 nicnt was corrupted ; the habitation of his friend, 
 whom he thus visited, was a brothel, and his disease, 
 such as those seldom escape, who frequent houses of 
 lewd resort. The solicitudes, which the females, in 
 that place, shewed for the recovery of his friend,, 
 their close attendance on him, and assiduity in ad-| 
 ministering to him his medicines, and supplying all 
 his wants, he foolishly attributed to genuine love; and 
 seemed almost to envy that power in him, which could 
 interest so many young females in the restoration o! 
 his health. 
 
 What effect these visits, and the blandishments t 
 which, as often as he made them, he was a witness 
 had upon Mr. Dyer, w^e know not, save that to de- 
 feat the enchantments of these syrens, he practise^! 
 none of the arts of Ulysses ; they on the contrary, 
 seemed to have wrought in him an opinion, that 
 those mistook their interests and shewed their igno- 
 rance of human life, who abstained from any pleasure 
 that disturbed not the quiet of families, or the order 
 of society i that natural appetites required gratifica- 
 
 1 
 
DICTIONARY. 273 
 
 tion, and were not to be dismissed without it ; that; 
 the indulgence of the irascible passions alone wa^^ 
 vice, and that to live in peace with mankind, 
 and, in a temper to do good offices, was the most es- 
 sential part of our duty. 
 
 Having fairly admitted these convenient principles 
 of religion into his mind, he settled into a sober sen- 
 sualist, in a perfect consistency with which charac- 
 ter, he was content to eat the bread of idleness, lay- 
 ing himself open to the invitations of those, who 
 kept the best tables, and contracting intimacies with 
 men, not only of opposite parties, but with some 
 who seemed to have abandoned all principles, whe- 
 ther religious, political, or moral. The houses of many 
 such, in succession were his home, and for the gra-* 
 tifications of a well spread table, choice wines, vari- 
 ety of company, card parties, and a participatioa 
 in all domestic amusements, and recreations, the 
 owners thought themselves recompensed by his con- 
 versation and the readiness with which he accommo- 
 dated himself to all about him. Nor was he ever at 
 a loss for reasons to justify this abuse of his parts, or 
 waste of his time ; he looked upon the practice of 
 the world as the rule of life, and thought it did not 
 become an individual to resist it. 
 
 By the death of his mother, his brother and sister, 
 all of whom he survived, he became possessed of 
 about 36000 dollars in the funds, which, as he was 
 inclined to no extravagance, it seemed highly impro- 
 bable, that he would ever be tempted to dissipate ; 
 but he had contracted an intimacy with some persons 
 of desperate fortunes, who were dealers in India stock, 
 at a time, when the affairs of the company were in a 
 state of fluctuation; and, though from his indolent 
 temper of mind and ignorance of business, the last 
 man to be suspected of yielding to such delusions, 
 he first invested all he had in that precarious fund, 
 and next became a candidate for the office of a director 
 of the company, but failed in the attempt. After 
 
 Vol. XL No. 13. M2 
 
274 KEW BIOGRAPHlCAt 
 
 thisj he entered into engagements for the purcha.,. 
 or sale of stock, and, by violating them, made ship- : 
 wreck of his honour. Lastly, he made other con-^< 
 tracts of the like kind, to the performance whereof ' 
 he was strictly bound ; these turned out against him 
 and swallowed up the whole of his fortune. About 
 the time of this event, which we believe, was about 
 the year 1772, he was seized with a quinsey, which 
 he was assured was mortal ; but whether he resign* 
 ed himself to the slow operation of that disease, or 
 precipitated his end by an act of self violence, was 
 not clearly ascertained by his friends. He left not in 
 money or effects sufficient to defray the expence of a 
 decent funeral, and the last office of humanity to- 
 wards him was performed by one of these, who had 
 been accessary to his ruin. 
 
 Thus perished Mr. Dyer, a gentkman, who, both 
 from talents and education, was eminently qualified, 
 to have performed his part in society with dignity 
 and reputation ; but, who, by unfortunately relin- 
 quishing the path of virtue in his more early years,, 
 devoted his days to a life of inglorious inactivity.. 
 
 DYER, (John) an English poet, the son of Ro~ 
 bert Dyer, Esq. a Welsh solicitor, was born in 1700- 
 After having gone through the usual course of edu-^ 
 cation at Westminster school, he was called home ta, 
 be instructed in his father's profession. His genius, 
 however, led him a different way, .for besides hh 
 early taste for poetry, having a passion no less strong 
 for the arts of design, he determined to apply him- 
 self to painting. With this view, having studied a| 
 while under a master, he became, as he tells us, an 
 itinerant painter, and about 1727, painted Grongar 
 Hill. Being probably dissatisfied with his own pro- 
 ficiency, he made the tour of Italy, where, besides 
 the usual study of the remains of antiquity, and the ' 
 works of the great roasters, he frequently spent whole 
 
DICTIONARY. 275 
 
 days, in the country about Rome, and Florence, 
 sketching these picturesque prospects with facility 
 and spirit. On his return to England, he published 
 the " Ruins of Rome,'* in 3 740; but soon found that 
 he could not reHsh a town life, nor submit to the as- 
 siduity required in his profession. As his turn of 
 mind was rather serious, and his conduct and beha- 
 viour always irreproachable, he was advised by his 
 friends to enter into holy orders, and was accordingly 
 ordained by the bishop of Lincoln. 
 
 His ecclesiastical provision was a long time but 
 slender; but about the year 1752, he met with con- 
 siderable preferment'. In 1757, he published '* The 
 Fleece,'' his greatest poetical work, but did not long 
 outlive that publication^ for a consumptive disorder, 
 with whioJi he had long struggled, carried him off in 
 1758. 
 
 Mr. Dyer's chara^cter as a writer has been fixed by 
 these poems " Grongar Hill," "The Ruins of Rome," 
 and " The Fleece," wherein a poetical imagination, 
 perfectly original, a natural simplicity connected 
 with, and often productive of the true sublime, and 
 the warmest sentiments of benevolence and virtue, 
 have been universally observed and admired. These 
 pieces, which made their appearance separately in his 
 life time, were after his death, collected and publish- 
 ed in one vol. 8vo. 1761, to which is prefixed a short 
 account of himself. 
 
 ^* 
 
 ELLIOT, (George Augustus) I^rd Heathfield^ 
 was the youngest son of the late Sir Gilbert Elliot, Bar 
 ronet of Stobbs, in Roxburghshire, Scotland, and was 
 born about the year 1718. He received the first ru- 
 diments of his education, under a private tutor, and, 
 at an early periooof his life, was sent to the university 
 of Leyden, where he made considerable progress in 
 classical learning and spoke with fluency and eleganc^^ 
 the German and French languages. Being designed 
 
276 MEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 for a military life, he was sent from thence to the 
 celebrated i^co/d- Royal du Genie Miliiaire^ conducted 
 by the great Vauban, at la Fere in Picardy, where he 
 laid the foundation of what he so conspicuously exhi- 
 bited at the defence of Gibraltar. He completed 
 his military course on the continent by a tour, for the 
 purpose of seeing in practice what he had studied in 
 theory, and as Prussia was the model for military dis- 
 cipline, he continued for some time, as a volunteer in 
 that service. 
 
 Mr. Elliot returned in the 17th year of his age to 
 Scotland, his native country, and was in the same 
 year, 1735, introduced by his father. Sir Gilbert, to 
 lieutenant-colonel Peers of the 23d regiment of foot, 
 then lying in Edinburgh, as a youth anxious to bear 
 arms for the defence of his king and countr)^ He was 
 accordingly entered as a volunteer in that regiment, 
 where he continued for upward-sof ayear. From the 
 23d regiment he went into the corps of engineers at 
 Woolwich, and made great progress in that study, 
 until his uncle, colonel Elliot brought him in as adju- 
 tant of the second troop of horse grenadiers. With 
 these troops, he went upon service into Germany, and 
 xvas with them in a variety of actions, in all of which 
 he displayed great bravery and military skill ; and at 
 the battle of Dettingen, he was wounded. In this 
 regiment, he bought the rank of captain and major, 
 and afterwards purchased the lieutenant-colonelcy 
 from colonel Brewerton, who succeeded to his uncle^ 
 On arriving at this rank, he resigned his commission 
 as an engineer, which he had enjoyed along with his 
 other rank, and in which service he had been active- 
 ly employed very much to the advantage of his coun- 
 try. He received the instructions of the famous en- 
 gineer Belieder, and made himself completely master 
 of the science of gunnery. Had he not so disinterest- 
 edly resigned his rank in the engineer department, he 
 would long before his death, by regular progression, 
 have been at the head of that corps. Soon after this 
 
■ DICTIONARY. 277 
 
 lie was appointed aid-de-camp, to George II. and 
 was distinguished for his military skill and discipline. 
 In the year 1759, he quitted the second troop of horse 
 grenadier guards, being selected to raise, form and 
 discipline, the first regiment of light-horse, called af- 
 ter him, Elliot's. As soon as they were raised and 
 formed, he was appointed to the command of the ca* 
 valry in an expedition on the coast ot France, with the 
 rank of brigadier general. After this, he passed into 
 Germany, where his regiment displayed a strictness 
 of discipline, activity and enterprize, which gained 
 them the most signal honour ; and indeed they have 
 been a pattern, both in regard to discipline and ap- 
 pointment, to any light dragoons, which have been 
 since raised in the service. From Germany, he was 
 recalled for the purpose of being employed second 
 in command, in an expedition against the Ilavan- 
 nah, which surrendered to the arms of Great Britain, 
 in August 1762. 
 
 Upon his return after the peace, his gallant regi- 
 ment was reviewed by the king, when they presented 
 to his majesty the colours, which they had taken from 
 the enemy. Gratified with their fine discipline and 
 high character, the king asked general Elliot, what 
 mark of his favour he could bestow on his regi- 
 ment equal to their merit. He answered, that his 
 regiment would be proud, if his majesty should think, 
 that by their services, they were entitled to the dis- 
 tinction oi Royals, It was accordingly made a royal 
 regiment, with this flattering title, "The 15th or 
 King's Royal Regiment of Light Dragoons.'' At 
 the same time, the king expressed a desire to confer 
 some honour on the general himself; but the latter de* 
 Glared, that the honour and satisfaction of his majes- 
 ty's approbation of his services, was his best reward. 
 
 During the peace, he was not idle. His great ta- 
 lents in the military art gave him ample employment. 
 In the year 177 5, he was appointed to succeed 
 general A'Court, as commander in chief of the 
 
278 KEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 forces In Ireland, but did not continue long m 
 this station-, not even long enough to unpack all 
 liis trunks ; for finding that interferences were made 
 by party authority derogatory of his own, he resisted 
 the practice with becoming spirit, and not chosing to 
 disturb the government of the sister kingdom, on a 
 matter personal to himself, he solicited to be recalled. 
 He accordingly was so, and appointed to the command 
 of Gibraltar in a fortunate hour for the safety of that 
 important fortress. The system of his life as well as 
 his education, particularly qualified him for this trust. 
 He was, perhaps, the most abstemious man of the age ; 
 neither indulging himse>f in animal food nor wine. He 
 never slept more than four hours at a time j so that he 
 was up later and earlier than most other men. He so 
 inured himself to habits of hardiness, that the things 
 which are difficult and painful to otlier men, were to 
 him his daily practice, and rendered pleasant by use. 
 It could not be easy to- starve such a man into a sur- 
 render, nor possible to surprise him. The example of 
 the commander in chief in a besieged garrison, had a 
 most persuasive efficacy in forming the manners of the 
 soldiery. Like him, his brave followers came to regu- 
 late their lives by the most strict rules of discipline 
 before there arose a necessity for so doing ; and severe 
 exercise with short diet became habitual to them by 
 their own choice. The military system of discipline 
 which he introduced, and the preparations, which he 
 made for his defence, were contrived with so much 
 address, that he was able, with a handful of men, to 
 preserve his post against an attack, the constancy of 
 which, even without the vigour, had been sufficient 
 to exhaust any common set of men. Collected within 
 himself, he, in no instance, destroyed by premature 
 attacks, the labours which would cost the enemy time, 
 patience and expence to complete; he deliberately 
 observed their approaches, and seized on the proper 
 moment, with the keenest perspection, in which to 
 make his attack with success. He never spent his 
 
DICTIOKARV. 279' 
 
 smunitibii'ftitis^iess parade,' or In unimportant attacks^ 
 He never relaxed from his discipline by the ap-^' 
 peafance of security, nor hazarded the lives of his 
 garrison by wild experiments. By a cool and tem- 
 perate demeanor, he maintained his station during a^ 
 constant investment of three years and seven months,^ 
 in which all the powers of Spain were employed. 
 
 Indeed as it is more than probable, that the prin- 
 cipal design of the Spanish court, in entering at that 
 time into w^ar with Great Britian, was the recovery 
 of this important fortress, it is not to be wondered 
 at, if they exerted every nerve to accomplish an ob- 
 ject, So highly gratifying to their national pride. 
 Were we to particularize the various efforts which 
 were used by the Spaniards to accomplish their pur- 
 pose, and the plans so successfully adopted by the 
 gallant Elliot to defeat them, it would swell thfs ar- 
 ticle far beyond its necessary limits. V/e ihall, tliere- 
 fore, confine ourselves to the last period of the siege, 
 when finding that all their former attempts both by 
 sea and land, had been totally ineffectual, they resolv- 
 ed upon a mode of attack more vigorous than any, 
 heretofore recorded in the annals of history, and which 
 as it employed the whole of their naval and military 
 force, as well as a considerable part of that of France, 
 they were hopeful, w^ould ultimately terminate in the 
 recovery of Gibraltar, that ancient and natural ap- 
 pendage of their crown. 
 
 The Duke De Crillon, lately returned from the 
 conquest of Minorca, who had formerly command- 
 ed, at the Spanish lines before Gibraltar, and was 
 perfectly acquainted with the situation of the garri- 
 son, was appointed to conduct the military force to 
 be employed ia this arduous and interesting enter- 
 prize. With him were joined Monsieurs D'Arcon, 
 a French engineer of great repute, and admiral Mo- 
 reno. The former had projected a plan, which had 
 met with the approbation of his most catholic majesty, 
 for attacking the place with battering ships^ con- 
 
280 KEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 structed upon sueh principles, that they were equally 
 considered as impregnable and incombustible ^ and 
 from the prodigious powers of which, little else was 
 expected than almost the annihilation of the garrjson : 
 the latter had rendered himself equally eminent with 
 the general in the preceding conquest of Minorca.^ 
 Under commanders of such distinguished ability^ j 
 aided by every combination of force, which human ^| 
 invention could devise, we need not in the least won-, 
 der, at the flattering idea, universally formed by the 
 nation, of the event. 
 
 General Elliot, on the other hand, unawed by the 
 impending storm, provided for every circumstance, 
 which might occur, and though surrounded on every 
 hand with enemies, and far distant from any hopes of 
 relief and assistance, yet he reposed such confidence 
 in the vigorous and united exertions of the little army 
 under his command, whom he had already found 
 superior to the greatest hardships, that he was not 
 apprehensive of trusting the event to the decision of 
 that fortune, which had been so often favourable to 
 the interests of the garrison. 
 
 The Spaniards having got every thing in readiness 
 for their grand attack, by the 12th of Sept. 1782, be- 
 gan to exhibit their vast accumulation of force, with a 
 view, as it seems, to strike a terror into their oppo- 
 nents, previous to the commencement of their final 
 efforts. Forty-six sail of the line, seven of which, 
 were three deckers; ten battering ships, deemed 
 perfect in design, and esteemed invincible, carrying 
 two hundred and twelve heavy guns, innumerable 
 frigates, xebeques, bomb ketches, cutters, gun-boats 
 and smaller craft for disembarking men, were all as- 
 sembled in the bay. On the land-side, were most 
 stupendous and strong batteries and works, mount- 
 ing two hundred pieces of the heaviest ordnance, and 
 protected by an army of at least 40,000 men, com- 
 manded by a victorious and active general of the 
 highest reputafion. From such a combination of 
 
DICTIONARY. 28i 
 
 power, it was natural enough, that the Spaniards 
 shouJd anticipate the most glorious consequences. 
 Indeed, their confidence in the effects to be produced 
 by the battering ships passed all bounds, and in the 
 enthusiasm excited by the magnitude of their prepa- 
 rations, it was thought highly criminal eVen to whis- 
 per a doubt of the success. 
 
 In drawing these flattering conclusions, the SpanU 
 nrds, however, seemed entirely to have overlooked 
 the nature of that force, w^hich w^as opposed to them, 
 for though the garrison scarcely consisted of 7000 ef- 
 fective men, they forgot that they were now veterans 
 in the service, had been a long time habituated to 
 the effects of artillery, and were prepared by degrees, 
 for the arduous conflict, which awaited them. They 
 were, at the same time, commanded by officers of 
 approved courage, prudence and ability, at the head 
 of whom was the invincible Elliot. To all which it 
 may be added, that their spirits were not a little ele- 
 vated by the success attending the recent practice of 
 firing red hot shot, which, in this attack, they hoped 
 would enable them to bring their labours to a period, 
 and relieve them from the tedious cruelty of a vexa- 
 tious blockade. 
 
 ^ On the morning of the 13th, the battering ships left 
 the men of war, and took their station in admirable 
 order about nine or ten hundred yards from the rock. 
 They were permitted to choose their distance without 
 molestation, but as soon as they began to drop anchor 
 about 10 o'clock, that instant the firing commenced, 
 which, in a few minutes, became tremendous in the 
 highest degree. The showers of shot and shells, which 
 were directed from their land batteries, and the 
 battering ships, and, on the other hand, from the 
 works of the garrison exhibited a scene of which, 
 perhaps, neither the pen nor the pencil can furnish a 
 
 npetent idea. It is sufficient to say, that four hun- 
 d pieces of the heaviest artillery were playing at 
 same moment, an instance, which, perhaps, had 
 
 Vol.11. No. 13. N'i 
 
282 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 never occurred in any siege, since the invention of 
 those wonderful engines of destruction. 
 
 After some hours cannonade, the battering ships 
 ivere found to be no less formidable than they had 
 been represented. The heaviest shells often rebound 
 cd from their tops, whilst the thirty-two pound shot ' 
 seemed incapable of making any visible impression; 
 upon their hulls. For some time, the attack and de- 
 fence were so equally well supported, as scarcely to 
 admit any appearance of superiority in the cannon- 
 ade of either side. In the afternoon, however, the! 
 effect of the red-hot shot from the garrison was visi-^ 
 ble, and the sm.oke, which had been seen some time^ 
 before, in the different battering ships began to pre- 
 vail. Confusion was now apparent on board several 
 of the vessels, and by the evening their cannonade 
 was considerably abated. When their firing began 
 to slacken, many rockets were thrown up as sig- 
 nals of distress, which were immediately answered 
 by their friends, and several boats came off to the 
 relief of the disabled ships ; but it was not in their 
 power to contribute much to their assistance. 
 
 About an hour after midnight, the battering ship, 
 which had suffered the greatest injury was coinplete- 
 TiJy :in flames, and by two o'clock, she appeared as 
 bne continued blaze from stem to stern. The ship 
 next to her was also on fire, but did not burn with 
 so much rapidity. The light thrown on all sides by 
 the flames, enabled the artillery to point the guns 
 with the utm.ost precision, whilst the rock and neigh- 
 bouring objects were highly illuminated, forming 
 with the flashes of the cannon an indescribable scene 
 of sublimity and terror. Between three and four o'clock, 
 six others of the battering ships indicated the eflicacy 
 of red-hot shot, and before the ensuing evening, the 
 w^hoje of these impregnable vessels, as they had been 
 deemed, by the Spanards, were completely destroyed. 
 Thus the court of Madrid, after having expended 
 immense treasures, in these prodigious preparations, 
 
DICTIONARY. 2S% 
 
 had at last the mortification of seeing their most san- 
 guine expectations litterally vanish in smoke. The 
 besiegers, however, though compelled to relinquish 
 the idea of recovering Gibraltar, continued to harrass 
 the garrison by successive attacks till the news of 
 peace having arrived in Febuary 1783, put an end to 
 all further hostilities. 
 
 During this memorable siege, the eyes of all Ea>* 
 rope were fixed upon this garrison, and the conduct 
 of the gallant veteran, who commanded it, received 
 the highest approbation even from his enemies, and 
 exalted him to the most elevated rank in the an- 
 nals of military fame. On his return to England, the 
 gratitude of the British senate was as forward as the 
 public voice in giving him that distinguished mark, 
 which his merit so richly deserved. Both houses of 
 Parliament voted him an unanimous address of thanks. 
 The king conferred on him the honour of Knight of 
 the Bath, and on June 14th 1787, advanced him 
 to the peerage, by the title of " Lord Heathficld of 
 Gibraltar,'* permitting him to take, in addition to his 
 family arms, the arms of the fortress, he had so brave- 
 ly defended, to perpetuate to futurity his noble con- 
 duct. 
 
 His Lordship died on the 6th July, 1790, at AIk 
 la Chapelle, of a stroke of the palsy, after having for 
 some weeks preceding, enjoyed tolerably good health 
 and an unusual flow of spirits. His death happened 
 two days after he w^as to have set out for Gibraltar, 
 of which place he was once more appointed to the 
 defence, in the view of an approaching war. He 
 married the daughter of Sir Francis Drake, and had by 
 her, who died in 1769, Francis Augustus, now Lord 
 Hcathfield, and who, at the time of his father's de- 
 cease, was Lieutenant Colonel of the 6th regimcni 
 of horse. 
 
284 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 ELLIOT, (John) commonly stiled the great In- 
 dian Apostle, was a minister of the congregational 
 church at Roxburgh, near Boston, Massachusetts, 
 about the year 1650; but of the time or place of his 
 birth, we have no certain information. He was inde- 
 fatigable in his labours to propagate the gospel amongt 
 the aborigines of the country, and for that purpose, 
 he, Vv^ith much labour, made himself master of the Na- 
 tic dialect of the Indian languages. In the year 
 3 657, we find him at Hartford, Connecticut, attend- 
 ing a synod or assembly of Ministers, who had conven- 
 ed to promote the great business of religion, and hav- 
 ing heard of the Podunk Indians, being in that vicinity, 
 he desired them to be called together, that he might 
 have an opportunity of preaching the doctrines of re- j 
 demption. By the influence of some leading men, '■ 
 they were prevailed on to meet at Hartford, where | 
 Mr. Elliot adressed them in their own language, and j 
 laboured hard to instruct them concerning their crea- 1 
 tor and redeemer. When he had finished his dis- 
 course, he was desirous to know, what impression 
 he had made on their minds, and asked them 
 w^hether they would accept of Christ for their saviour, . 
 as he had been offered to them. The chief .men, 
 hov^^ever, treated the proposal with scorn, alledging, i 
 that the English, who had already taken away their ^ 
 lands, were now, under the pretence of promoting 
 their future interest, only endeavouring to reduce 
 them to a state of servitude. 
 
 In 1664, he was appointed minister at Guilford 
 Connecticut, but still devoted a great part of his time 
 to his favorite object, the conversion of the natives. 
 With this view, he translated the bible,. catechism/' 
 and several religious books into the Indian language, ' 
 and travelled through most parts of Massachusetts and 
 Plymouth plantations. He relates several pertinent 
 queries of the Indians, respecting the Christian reli- 
 gion, among others, whether Jesus Cl3rist, the medi- 
 ator or intercessor could understand prayers in the In- 
 
DICTIONARY. 285 
 
 dian language ? If the father be bad and the child 
 good, why should God, as in the second coirsmand- 
 inent, be offended with the child ? How the- Indians^ 
 came to differ so much from the English in the knowt* 
 edge of God and Jesus Christ, since they all sprang 
 from one common father? Mr. Elliot was held in 
 the greatest veneration by the aborigcnes as Vwdl as 
 by the colony; as a proof of which, we may men- 
 tion an act of the General Assembly relating to the 
 Indians, expressed in this manner, '' By the advid^ 
 of the magistrates and of Mr. EllioL'' ' -' 
 
 He continued with indefatigable industry to instruct 
 the churches and propagate the gospel amop.gst those 
 by wdiom it had never been heard before, till his 
 death, which happened in the year 1 G94, when he had 
 arrived at a good old age. 
 
 ELPIIINSTON, (William) wasdescended from 
 a noble family, originally from Germany, and wai» 
 born in Glasgow, in 14S1. At the age of seven, he 
 was committed to the ablest masters, to be instructed 
 in learning and good morals, and after a short appli- 
 cation to grammar, made such a proficiency, as to af- 
 ford the most flattering j)rospects of his future utility. 
 When he had attained his 20th year, he applied 
 himself to logics and metaphysics, in which he made 
 such a progress, that he soon surpassed his equals. 
 At the age of 25, he entered into the service of the 
 church, and became 'immediately minister of the 
 church of St. Michael, in Glasgow. As no church- 
 man, in that age, who was ambitious of rising to 
 great ecclesiastical preferments, or of obtaining con- 
 sequence in the state, could expect to succeed, with- 
 out a competent knowledge of the civil and canon 
 law, after he had resided four years upon his cure, he 
 set out to the university of Paris, which liad long 
 been celebrated for the cultivation of that branch of 
 literature, and sucli was the proficiency he made 
 
286 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 ihere, that, in the space of three years, he was ap- 
 poii7ted professor. 
 
 Hs.ving spent nine years in France, and six of them 
 in a conspicuous and honourable situation, he was 
 urged by his patron, the bishop of Glasgow, to return 
 to his country and his friends. The post of official 
 of Glasgow, an office somewhat analogous to that of 
 Bishop's deputy, or vicar general of the diocese, was 
 conferred upon him soon after his arrival, and a valu- 
 able revenue was, at that time, annexed to it. James 
 III. then upon the Scottish throne, being made ac- 
 quainted with his prudence and ability in the dis- 
 charge of that office, desired to see him at Edinburgh, 
 Tiud by the patronage of that monarch, he was soon 
 promoted ; being made official of St. Andrew's and 
 ,one of the Lords of the privy council. 
 ' Some misunderstanding having arisen between the 
 King of Scotland, and Lewis XI. of France, Mr. El-I 
 phinstcn was sent to Paris, in company with two 
 others, to answer the matter of complaint brought 
 forward on the part of the French. After some discus- 
 sion, the differences betwen the tw^o courts were ccm- 
 pcsed. The success of this commission was so much, 
 attributed to the wisdom and eloquence of Elphin-| 
 ston, that immediately upon his return he was advan- 
 ced to the bishopric of Ross, and in the same year to 
 the see of Aberdeen. 
 
 Richard III. having murdered his nephews, whose 
 protector he had been chosen, ascended the throne 
 of England in 1483. Reflecting on how slippery al 
 foundation it stood, in the blood of his near relatives, 
 and well versed in the love of worldly w'isdom, he 
 naturally recurred to those means, by which it might 
 best be fixed and consolidated, and none appearing 
 more plausible than the alliance of a neighbouring 
 monarch, he proposed to enter into a negociationfor 
 that purpose with James IIL Although this king 
 held the bloody ambition of Richard in the utmost 
 detestation, \et, when he considered, that his own 
 
DICTIONARY. 287 
 
 ttirone fre'quently tottered amidst the factions of a 
 discontented nobility, and that the advantages of a 
 treaty, wisely conducted, would be at least reciprocal, 
 he consented to form a commission of distinguished 
 persons, to meet one not less respectable, en the part 
 of Richard. Amongst the most able of the Scottish 
 ambassadors was the bishop of Aberdeen. The 
 communication of these ministers continued for some 
 time^ many debates arose on the terms to be stipulated 
 but, at length, by the skill and address of our prelate, 
 an alliance between the two nations was concluded for 
 three years, in September, 1484. * 
 
 After this, our Prelate's influence with the king- 
 berame so great, that m,ost of the great affairs of ihe 
 nanon were conducted under his direction and by his 
 advice. He was, in particular, highly instrumental in 
 prevailing on his majesty to leave off his debauched 
 and irregular life, to put a stop to the ravages of the 
 marauders, who, at that time, overrun the kingdom, 
 committing the greatest devastations, and to reform 
 the administration of justice by itinerant judges, who, 
 hy the iniquity of the times, had, for some years, 
 neglected to punish the various crimes, which dis- 
 turbed the public peace. Conformable to the ideas 
 of piety, which prevailed in those times, and partly, 
 indeed, to his episcopal character, he, likewise, warmly 
 recommended the reparation of chapels and of edi- 
 fices consecrated to monastic devotion, and even the 
 foundation of certain new ones. The chapel royal 
 in the castle of Stirling, w^as founded in consequence 
 of this advice. 
 
 The priory of Coldingham, at that period, became 
 vacant, and being at the king's disposal, he annexed 
 its revenues to his new chapel, and procured a law 
 in parliament, to prevent any of his subjects from dis- 
 uniting these benefices. The family of the Humes 
 complained of the king's proceeding, as an infringe- 
 ment of their privilege, and, indeed, as an alienation 
 of their property; inasmuch as the priory of Colding- 
 
•288 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 l>arO:J^adi'j^'e^>i>J tkdr former sovereigns, been con- 
 ferred upon a Hume, and the tythes and pecuniary 
 emoluments belonging to it, were paid out of the 
 c$tartes of that family. James, disinclined to mak^ 
 anyvqoncession,^p,<trsi.sted in maintaining his arrangei 
 i^en|. The Hiimes^ enraged at his pertinacity, ap-- * 
 pjlied to their friends and neighbours the Hepburns ) 
 desiring assistance to assert their claim, which wa^ | 
 granted, on condition that a Hepburn, as well as ^| 
 HiuiiC, should in future have an equal right to be ad- "^ 
 va-Bced to the priory of Coldingham. 
 
 Small causes, as we frequently see, may operate 
 to a wide extent. The combination entered into by 
 m^'se two familicrs, bent upon resistance to the king's 
 will, in the aiTair in question, proved the centre of at* 
 fraction to all the male-contents and disaffected through- 
 mU the kingdom. This business of the priory, fur- 
 nishing an ostensible pretext to all parties, opportu- « 
 BJty'^eon offered, or was sought for, and ,the parties 
 rose fn rebellion against their sovereign. The bishop 
 gf- Abcrdef^n, upon this occasion, exerted all his iq* 
 fljiencc to bring back the rebels to their duty; b^t 
 Sliding, aker all his efforts, that he had been vainly 
 preaching loyalty and christian peace to a people. rQ^ 
 solved not to hear, and believing affairs of war to be 
 neither- within his competence, nor becoming his pro- 
 fession, he relinquished tlie scene of political busi^ 
 r*ess and retired to his diocese. 
 
 During this recess from the tumult of violence_ and 
 rebellion, he compiled his book of canons adaptedj^ ' 
 from those of the primitive church, to the ecclesiasr 
 lical state of Scotland. He reformed such abuses as ' 
 had crcfpt in amongst his clergy, and attended with 
 the' most exemplary vigilance to every part of his pas- 
 toral province. ^ 
 
 ^f-- Whilst. he -W8S absorbed in. these; employments, in- 
 fdiigence was suddenly brought him, that the king 
 had fallen in the field of battle, whilst he was courr 
 ^.geously defending.. himself against the lords of the 
 
DICTIONARY. 289 
 
 insurrection, a title given to the chiefs, who had u* 
 nited in that rebellion. 
 
 A parliament being summoned to meet at Eding- 
 burgb, in 1488, our prelate was obliged to attend it, 
 to assist at the coronation of the young king, who w^as 
 then in the 1 6th year of his age. When that busi- 
 ness was finished, the lords of the insurrection began 
 to suspect, that many of their proceedings might not 
 be entirely conformable to our prelate *s principles: 
 they, therefore, to avoid the scrutiny of such eyeSj 
 contrived an honorable pretext for his removal, and 
 appointed him ambassador to the emperor Maximi- 
 lian,' on a proposition of marriage betwixt theiryoung 
 king, and Margaret, the emperor's daughter. But 
 however acceptable this matrimonial alliance might 
 have been to the court of Vienna, it was frustrated 
 by the prior engagement of the young lady to the 
 prince of Spain. 
 
 The bishop desirous to compensate for his failure 
 in the object of his German embassy, took the oppor- 
 tunity of his return through Holland, to settle several 
 points of difference, which had created animosity be- 
 tween Scotland and the United Provinces, and, in the 
 name of his young sovereign, happily concluded a 
 treaty. Thus, having rendered a signal and unex- 
 pected service to his country, he returned home with 
 honour and eclat. 
 
 Tranquillity being thus restored, our prelate began 
 to feel a strong attraction towards the calm retreat of 
 his diocese, whilst his thoughts seemed wholly en- 
 gaged in promoting the interestsof religion and learn- 
 ing. About the year 1494, he applied for, and ob- 
 tained, from Pope Alexander VI. a bull for founding 
 a university at Aberdeen, and erected a college at his 
 own expence in the Old Town of that city, which, 
 for elegance and beauty, is, even to the present day, 
 justly considered, as one of the most remarkable 
 buildings, in Scotland. To this seminary, he gave the 
 name of King's Colle^t^ because James IV. took it 
 
 Vol. II. No. 13. 2 
 
290 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 under his protection. It was endowed witli great 
 privileges, said to be much in the spirit of those grant- 
 ed to the universities of Paris and Bononia. At its 
 first estabiishment, it had a principal, sub-principaJ, 
 three professors in the arts and sciences, and a pro- 
 fessor of languages. Provision was also made for the 
 support of eight-priests, and the maintenance of twen- 
 ty-seven poor students. The endowment of thor- 
 whole arose from lands, manors &;c. which were pur-f 
 ceased by the founder. 
 
 , The first principal or president of this university wa» 
 the ceJebrated Hector Boethius, whom bishop Elphin* \ 
 ston invited from the college of Montague, at Paris, 
 where he was professor of philosophy, to take charge 
 of his new seminary. The salary which he receiv- 
 ed, and seemed to consider as very liberal, was', 
 only forty marks Scotch, not quite ten dollars Amef^^ 
 can currency, per annum. In the present age, it isff 
 difficult even for the imagination so to raise the value/ 
 af money, or so to diminish the demands of life, as^ 
 to suppose ten dollars a year an honourable stipend ; 
 yet it was probably equal not only to the needs, but 
 even to the rank of Boethius. The wealth of Eng- 
 land was then undoubtedly to that of Scotland more 
 than five to one; and it is known, that Henry VIII. 
 among whose faults, avarice was never reckoned, 
 granted to Roger Ascham, as a reward of his learn-, 
 ing, a pension of ten pounds sterling (44 4oll%t^ 40 
 cents) yearly. t, h-n >;: 
 
 The city of Aberdeen was likewise indebted to the^ 
 munificence of bishop Elphinston for a number of 
 public works, the most remarkable of which, was 
 the bridge across the river Dec, which gives name Xjf^ 
 the tovi^n. 
 
 . That part of his time, which remained unconse- 
 crated to devotion, to acts of charity, public and pri- 
 vate, and to the business of his diocese was spent in 
 study. His principal literary undertaking was " The 
 History of Scotland" from its most remote antiquity 
 
DICTIONARY. 291 
 
 to the death of James II. an accomplished prince, 
 who was unfortunately killed at the siege of Roi^^' 
 burgh in the year 1460. Our historian follows prett)^ 
 closely the footsteps of Fordoun, as far as that autho^ 
 has gone ; but afterwards enters much more into de^- 
 tail, and writes with greater precision, than any of 
 Fordoun*s continuators. 
 
 Our prelate continued his labours of learning and 
 piety to a very advanced age, and was still proceed- 
 ing with some vigour in the good purposes of Hisf 
 heart, when his spirit received a violent shock from 
 the death of James IV. at the battle of Floudon, 
 Sept. 9th 1513. In consequence of this event, a 
 parliament was immediately assembled at Sterling ^ 
 the nation fell into the most unsettled state ; and no-'^ 
 thing could be more embroiled than all its affairs! 
 The queen was left with two sons, the elder only in 
 the second year of his age. Many of the wisest anif 
 best amongst the nobility and the great had fallen 
 with their king, on that fatal day. Those of the highest 
 pretensions left behind were most of them young antV 
 without experience. Our venerable prelate seeingf 
 the distressed condition of his country, quitted his 
 peaceful retirement, with the resolution of contribute 
 ing his best efforts to restore its prosperity ; but? 
 he fell sick in the progress of his journey, atid 
 died at Edinburgh, in the year 1514, and in the 83d 
 of his ao:e. 
 
 The several situations, in v^hich he successively ap- 
 peared, were eminently distinguivshed, as each demand- 
 ed its proper character, by his knowledge, his learn- 
 ing, his address, his munificence or his piety ; and it 
 seems not too much to say, that his exalted station in 
 the church was adorned by the constant union of 
 them all. 
 
 -^The very considerable acquisitions of wealth, which 
 his different offices or employments in the church or 
 the state enabled him to make, were, as we have 
 already seen, returned, during his life timrc, in no 
 
292 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 scanty measure, to bis country in acts of noble libe- 
 rality, or the most useful charity ; and he bequeathed 
 the remainder, partly for the completion of his bridge 
 over the Dee,, and. partly .for the benefit of his college 
 at Aberdeen; fitrraitfontr^ 
 
 . We shall conclude our character of this venerable 
 prelate by the following eulogium of one, who, his., 
 biographer Dr. Lettice says, had the best opportu^ 
 nity of observing him " that there never was a man 
 of greater integrity of life and manners ; it having 
 been proverbially affirmed to his honour, that from 
 the time of his entering into holy orders, he was 
 never know^i to do or say an unseemly thing." 
 
 ELWES, (John) whose family name was Meg4^ 
 got, a singular character, notorious for irrational parJj 
 simony and immense pecuniary accumulations, was 
 born in the city of London, in the year 1709, and 
 lived to be a member of three successive parlia« 
 ments. His father, who was a brewer of great 
 eminence died, while he was only four years of age, 
 so that little of the character of Mr, Eiwes is to be 
 attributed to him ; but from the molhe)' it may be 
 traced at once, for though she was left upwards of 
 four hundred thousand dollars by her husband, she 
 starved herself to death ! - .: : ;: ji],^ 
 
 At an early period of life, he was sent to Westmin- 
 ster school, where he remained for ten or twelve 
 years. During that time, he certainly had not mis- 
 applied his talents, for he was a good classical scholar 
 to the last; and it is a circumstance, not a little re- 
 markable, though well authenticated, that he never 
 read afterwards, because hooks cost money, nor could 
 the whole of his library, at any period of his life, be 
 valued at more than forty shillings. His knowledge 
 in accounts was very trifling, and in some measure 
 may account for the total ignorance he was always in, 
 as to his own affairs. 
 
DICTIONARY. 29S 
 
 111 the usual fortuitous turn of events, which often 
 throws property into the lap of those, who have the 
 least occasion for it, he inherited the vast wealth of 
 his uncle, and great prototype in frugality. Sir Harvey 
 Elwes, of whom, previous to our entering more par- 
 iicularly on the life of John, we deem it necessary 
 to take some notice. -'^'^ ' '4 
 
 Providence, perhaps, has wisely ordered "il§"?>t^tti 
 possessors of estates should change hke the SU'O*- 
 cession of the seasons ; the day of tillage and the 
 seed time, the harvest and the consumption of it, in 
 due order follow each other, and in the scale of evdits 
 arc all necessary alike. This v^as exemplified in the 
 character of Sir Harvey Elwes, the successor of Sir 
 Jervoise Elwes, a gentleman, who had involyedj^ as 
 far as they would go, all the estates he ' received 
 and left behind him. On his death, Sir Harvey found 
 "himself nominally possessed of some thousands a 
 year, but really with an income of only one hundred 
 pounds per annum. He said, on his arrival at Stoke 
 the family seat, that *' he would never leave it, till he 
 had entirely cleared the paternal estate,'* and he liv- 
 ed to do that and to realize a vast sum besides. 
 
 But he was formed of the very materials to make 
 perfect the character of a Miser, In his youth, he had 
 been given over for a consumption, so that he had no 
 constitution and no passions. He was timid, shy, and 
 diiBdent in the extreme, of a thin spare habit of bo- 
 dy and without a friend upon earth. - ■ - 
 
 As he had no acquaintance, no bocks, and no turn 
 for reading, the hoarding up and the counting of his 
 money, was his greatest joy. The next to that Vvas 
 partridge setting, at which he was so great an adept, 
 and game was then so plentiful, that he has beeii 
 known to take (wq hundred brace of birds in one sea- 
 son. But he lived upon partridges, he and his whole 
 little household, consisting of one man and two 
 maid«. Vvhat they could not eat, he tur4;»ed'©i4^-a- 
 gain, as he never gave any thing avvay.i'wo iiui ot --^ 
 
294 NEW BIOGRA PHICAIr 
 
 He, at all times, wore a black velvet cap much 
 over his face, a worn out full dressed suit of clothes, 
 and an eld great coat, with worsted stockings drawn 
 over his knees. He rode a thin thorough bred horse, 
 and the Jwrsc and his rider both looked as if a gust oi 
 wand would have blown them away together. Whenj^ 
 the day was not so fine, as to tempt him abroad, h©, 
 would walk backwards and forwards in his old hall|| 
 to save the expence of fire, and if a farmer, in hist 
 neighbourhood came in, he would strike a light in 
 tinder-box, that he kept by him, and putting on< 
 single stick upon the grate, would not add anoth( 
 till the first was nearly burnt out. 
 
 Thus lived and thus died the uncle to Mr. Elwes 
 whose possessions, at the time of his death, were sup-^) 
 posed to be worth upwards of 1 ,000,000 dollars, whiistt 
 that of Mr. Elwes himself was believed to be verj^rf 
 little inferior. 
 
 The contemplation of such a character, as that ofi 
 Sir. Harvey Elwes, affords a very mortifying and mela^-^ 
 cholly picture of human infirmity. The contrast ofo 
 so much wealth, and so much abuse of it is degradingo 
 to the human understanding. But in return, it yett 
 has its uses; for let those, who fancy there is a charvi% 
 in richeSy able to fix happiness, here view ail thek-^ 
 inability and all their failures ; and acknowledge that 
 the '"■ mind alone makes or marrsour felicity." Forwho 
 almost would credit, that while the comforts, if not 
 the luxuries of life, are acknowledged to confer hap- 
 piness, and be the foundation of our pleasures^ that 
 Sir Harvey Elwes, possessed of such an im.mense pro- 
 perty, should deny himself almost fire and candle, 
 should wear the cast off clothes oihh predecessor (tor 
 he never purchased a new garment,) and live in a,. 
 house where the wind was entering at every brokenl 
 casement, and the rain descending through the roof^n 
 voluntarily imposing upon himself a condition far in-t 
 ferior to that of a pauper in an alms-house. 
 
 So much for the uncle! the delineation of the chax^ 
 
DICTIONARY. 12^5 
 
 acter of the nepfew; "ftie late John Elvve^^^^s^tf^ 
 ceeded him, after he had attained the fortieth year 
 of his age, folJows next, who, though a ??iurr m the;^ 
 completest sense of the word, we are told by his bio-^ 
 grapher, captain Topham, never quite reached, evea|^ 
 to the last period of his life, the extraordinaiy;^-- 
 tempts at saving money, made by his uncle. ;- "''^ 
 
 The first feature of this portrait is consummate fijr^' 
 pocrisy, not generally the vice of youth; yet Mri| 
 Elwes set out with it early in life, for, expecting tcT 
 be Sir Harvey's heir, and knowing his extreme aver-^ 
 son from every appearance of the sensual passions, he 
 carefully concealed his fondness for dress, and a good 
 dinner, in both of which he indulged himself, at that 
 time, from his penurious uncle. His mode of visit-^t 
 ing, therefore, at Stoke, was as follows: He used tc^ 
 stop at a little inn at Chelmsford, which he did not^' 
 much like, and begin to d?TSs in chm^actei^ — a pair of , 
 small iron buckles, worsted stockings darned, a worri^' 
 out old coat, and a tattered waistcoat were put on, and ' 
 onwards he rode to visit his uncle, who used to con- 
 template him with a viiserable kind of satisfaction, . 
 and seemed pleased to find his heir attempting to 
 come up with him in the race of avarice. But the ' 
 nephew having then, as he always had, a very ex- 
 traordinary appetite, which would have been a mon- 
 strous offence in the eye of the uncle, took care to 
 pick up a dinner first with some gentleman by the 
 way, and then sat down to table with Sir Harvey, ex- 
 hibiting to him only a little diminitive appetite, which 
 was quite engaging. A partridge, a small puddingj^^)^- 
 and a potatoe, with one glass of wine betwixt them, ^ 
 was a sufficient repast for this saving pair, and thd' 
 fire was suffered to go out, while they were at din- 
 ner, because eating was exercise enough to warm 
 them. There they would sit, talking of the extra- 
 vagance of the times, till evening, when they would 
 retire to rest, as going to be<l saved caiidle light f 
 
 And here we must make one remark, to point out 
 
296 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 the difference between the two characters ; Sir Har- 
 vey became a miser from necessity, the succession left 
 him by Sir Jervoise, as we have already observed 
 being so involved, that he would have been ruined 
 by the inheritance, if he had not resolved to save and 
 lay up for years to come. But as for the late Mr. 
 Elwes, he did not commence miser, till he was as 
 rich as a nabob. He was a hypocrite to the fash- 
 ionable world, whose manners he assumed, and irj 
 whose luxuries he deeply engaged, and he was 
 equally so to his uncle, by reversing his external ap- 
 pearance, and mortifying his appetites. But no 
 sooner w^as that uncle dead, than he threw off the 
 mask, and stood forth the confessed v/orshipper of 
 the golden calf. A vice, which sprung from cupidi- 
 ty, however, still made him keep one set of compa^ 
 ny, that of noble gamesters. Upon these occasions, 
 where honour is so much talked of, and so little praoi 
 tised, it was his constant rule to pay his losings by 
 a draft, before he quitted the room; but meeting few 
 either able or willing to imitate him in this respect, he 
 was soon tired of paying, but never receiving, and 
 left the society in disgust, after losing, at one sit- 
 ting 14000, (17760 dollars), at piquet. 
 
 His chief residence, while his uncle was living, 
 was at Marcham the paternal seat in Berkshire, but 
 upon his death, he came to reside at Stoke in Suf- 
 folk. Bad as was the mansion house he found here, he 
 left one still worse at Marcham, of which the late 
 colonel Timms, his nephew, used to mention the fol- 
 lowing proof. A few days after he went thither, a 
 great quantity of rain fell in the night; he had not 
 been in bed, before he felt himself wet through ; and 
 putting his hand out of the clothes, found the rain 
 was dropping through the cieling upon the bed ; he 
 got up and moved ihe bed, but he had not lain long, 
 before he found the same inconvenience. Again he 
 got up, and again the rain came down. At length 
 after pulling the bed round the room, he got into a 
 
 
DICTIONARY. 297 
 
 corner where the cieling was better secured, and slept 
 till morning. When he met Mr. Elwes at breakfast, 
 he told him what had happened. **' Aye, aye," said 
 the old man, *^ I don't mind it myself, but to those 
 who do, that's a nice corner in the night." 
 
 To Mr. Elwes, an inn upon the road, and an apo- 
 thecary's shop were equal subjects of aversion. The 
 words give and pay were not found in his vocabu- 
 lary; and therefore, when he once received a very 
 dangerous kick from one of his horses, nothing could 
 persuade him to have any assistance. Pie rode 
 the chase through, with his hg cut to the bone, and, 
 it was only some days afterwards, when it was feared 
 an amputation would be necessary, that he consented 
 to go up to London, and, hard day ! part with some 
 money for advice. 
 
 But not amongst strangers alone w^as money with him 
 the dearest object of life. He had brought with him 
 out of Berkshire, two sons, and certainly if he liked 
 anything, it was these boys; but no money would he 
 bestow on their education, for he declared, that " put- 
 ting things into people's heads was the sure way to take 
 money out of their pockets." One day he had put 
 his eldest boy upon a ladder to get some grapes for the 
 table, when by the ladder slipping, hu tell down and 
 hurt his side against the edge of it. The boy had the 
 precaution to go up ?nto the village and get blooded. 
 On his return he was asked where he had been, and 
 what was the matter with his arm ? He told his father, 
 that he had got bled. "Bled! bled! said the old 
 gentleman, but what did you o/t;^/"' A shilling an- 
 swered the boy. " Psha !" returned the father, "you 
 are a blockhead ! never part with your blood ! " 
 
 Yet notwithstanding his perrarious dispositioi], he 
 possessed a gentleness of manners, which nothing 
 could shake, and a pliancy of temper not always to 
 •be met with in a miser. Having been persuaded to 
 take a day's shooting with a gentleman, who exhibit- 
 ed, during the whole day, constant proof either of ill 
 Vol. 11. No. 13. P2 
 
298 KEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 luck or unskilfulness, he at last. In firing through a 
 hedge, lodged several shot in the old gentleman's 
 cheek ; the unfortunate sportsman, approaching with 
 evident embarrassment and concern, Mr. Elwes an- 
 ticipated apology, by reaching out his hand, and 
 saying, " My dear Sir, I congratulate you on improv- 
 ing, 1 knew you would hit something at last." 
 
 It is, likewise, to be remarked, to the credit of 
 Mr. E.lwes, that in the accumulation of his wealth, ^ 
 he never was guilty of oppressing, or doing unkind 
 things to his neighbours^ and, though an habitual 
 iove of money is apt to render us too little scrupulous 
 in the methods by which we procure it, he w^as so far 
 different from other misers, that he considered usury 
 as an unjustifiable mode of augmenting his fortune* 
 His whole system of heaping up was founded in his 
 depriving himselfofalmost every necessary of life, which 
 he carried to so great an excess, that there was some- 
 thing in it, which seemed like a judgment from Hea- 
 ven. All earthly comforts he voluntarily denied him- 
 self 3 he would walk in the rain over the one half of 
 London, rather than pay a shilling for a coach ; he 
 would eat his provisions in the last stage of putrefac- 
 tion sooner than have a fresh joint from the butcher's, 
 and he once wore a wig for above a fortnight, 
 which he picked up in a gutter, and which to all ap- 
 pearance had been the cast off wig of some beggfir. 
 He has been known to risque his neck, rather than 
 pay a penny at a turnpike, and when, as rich as a 
 nabob, he once, in a fit of sickness, that he might 
 avoid expences, threw himself down in one of his 
 empty houses, in London, where his friends after 
 much search, found him stretched on an old pallet 
 bed, and ready to perish for mere want. 
 
 lie once extricated a neighbour from a long and 
 troublesome ecclesiastical suit, by riding sixty miles 
 on horseback at midnight, and almost at a moment's 
 warning. Such wonderful efforts would he make 
 with alacrity, and, at an advanced age, to serve a 
 
DICTIONARY. 299 
 
 person for whom no motives or entreaties could have 
 prevailed on him to part with a shilling. In this and 
 all other longjournies, a couple of hard boiled eggs, a 
 dry crust carried in his pocket, the next stream of wa- 
 ter, and a spot of fresh grass, while he reposed him- 
 self under the hedge, were the whole of the travel- 
 ing expences of himself and horse. ' ;/ 
 
 When his vast property was generally known, ap- 
 plications from a variety of quarters were made to him 
 as a monied man, and he became a prey to every ad- 
 venturer, 'who had a v/ant and a scheme. On such 
 occasions it was soon found by those, who made a 
 practical use of their knowledge, that paving the 
 way with a little present was the surest method of 
 succeeding in their wishes. By these and other arts 
 he was tempted to advance money on faulty securi- 
 ties, and it is asserted, on unquestionable authority, 
 that he lost, by bad debts, a suna not short of half a 
 million of dollars. Lending money to necessitous 
 builders, bankrupt architects, and surveyors, was 
 another of his infatuations; by which means, how- 
 ever, he became possessed of many houses in Lon- 
 don. Inspecting repairs, and overlooking work- 
 men, was also a favorite occupation ; but he would 
 never hear of alteration beyond what was indispensi- 
 bly necessary to prevent the building from tumbling. 
 Indeed, as he denied such indulgences to himself, he 
 could not be expected to allow them to others ; of 
 course he was a stranger to what are called the com- 
 forts of a house. 
 
 In 1774, on the prospect of a contested election 
 betwixt two most respectable families in Berkshire, 
 in order to preserve the peace of the country, Mr. 
 Elwes was proposed as a third person, who might be 
 unobjectionable to both parties; in consequence of 
 which, he obtained a seat in parliament, and though 
 then in his 66ih year, used to call h'lmsd^ n 7/ou?ig 
 member, often boasting, that he came into parliament 
 for eighteen pence, which w^as all he paid for his 
 
300 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 election dinner. During his continuance In that station, 
 which was about 12 years, the praise of indepen- 
 dence and disinterestedness cannot be denied him; 
 for wishing for no post, desirous of no rank, and want- 
 ing no emolument, he stood aloof from all those temp- 
 tations, which have led many good men astray from 
 the paths of honour. All that a minister could have 
 offered Mr. Elwes would have been of no avail, for 
 posts, or dignity would have only distressed him, as, 
 by the acceptance of either, he must have unavoidably 
 increased his expences, and, he was such a man, 
 that he could never have survived the being oblig- 
 ed to keep a carriage, with three or four servants, 
 all, perhaps, better dressed than himself. Through 
 every period of his life, it was the favourite wish I 
 of his heart to be thought poor, and that the reports * 
 of his being rich were entirely erroneous. To 
 these ideas, he thought he gave strength, by hav-l 
 ing no servants, nor any of the "outward and visible" * 
 signs of wealth; and he had persuaded hin\self, that 
 the public would really think that he had 7W moneys 
 because he used none. 
 
 Our pupil of frugality was not without his amorous 
 moments, yet, during his hours of dalliance, when the 
 maxims of a miser are often found to relax, he did 
 not lose sight of that systematic parsimonv, which 
 guided every action ot his life. Under such im- 
 pressions, he was content to take a bed fellow from 
 his kitchen, who, without possessing sufficient au- 
 thority to break through his favourite system, might 
 by her exact superintendance and minute inspec- 
 tion, instead of augmenting, diminish the expences 
 of his family. By this woman, who filled, with exem- 
 plary propriety, the aukward, double character of a 
 servant and a favourite, he had two sons, George and 
 John Elwes, Esqs. who, in consequence of his wrlK 
 now inherit the great bulk of his property. 
 
 As Mr, Elwes increased in years, his habits became 
 inveterate and irrational; he grudged himself food and 
 
' ''MCTIONARY, SOI 
 
 cloaths; anxiety and fear of losing his property were 
 ever uppermost in his thoughts, and, as his capucity 
 sunk by degrees, into childishness, he watched oppor- 
 tunities of hiding guineas and bank-notes. His little 
 store he would carefully wrap up in various papers, 
 and depositing them in different comers, would amuse 
 himself, with running from one to the other, to see 
 whether they were all safe. Then forgetting, perhaps, 
 where he had concealed some of them, he would be- 
 come as seriously afflicted, as a reasonable man would 
 he, who had lost the whole of his property. Nor was 
 the day alone thus spent ; he would frequently rise in 
 the middle of the night, and be heard walking about 
 different parts of the house," looking after what he had 
 thus hidden and forgotten. 
 
 Though far removed from pecuniary distress, pover- 
 ty was his continual dread, and the fever of accumu- 
 lation raged with redoubled fury, when the avenues 
 which lead to enjoyment, were closed up for ever. 
 He was a compound cf folly and sense, of meanness 
 and magnanimity, a striking example of that provok- 
 ing indigence of wealth, when it cannot confer hap- 
 piness on its possessors, of that aggravating impotence 
 of gold, when it does not enlarge the understanding, 
 or rouse the social affections. This miserable wretch, 
 died 26th November 1789, in the eighty-first year of 
 his age, the last coherent words he spoke, being ad- 
 dressed to his son John Elwes, in hoping " that he 
 bad left what he had wished." 
 
 EMERSON, (William) a late eminent mathe- 
 matician, was born near Darlington, England, in the 
 ..year 1701. His father Dudley Emerson was a tolera- 
 ^bie proficient in mathematics, and without his book.«^, 
 and instructions, perhaps the genius of the son would 
 never have been properly unfolded. 
 
 Young Emerson was instructed in the learned Ian- 
 
202 HEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 guages, by a young clergyman, who boarded in his 
 father's house, and after he had made some progress 
 in the classics, he attempted to commence teacher 
 himself; but, whether from the difficulty, under which 
 he laboured, in communicating his ideas, or the warmth 
 of his natural temper, he did not succeed in his school. 
 He, therefore, soon quit it, and satisfied with a mo-' 
 derate competence left him by his parents, devoted 
 himself to a studious retirement. 
 
 Mr. Emerson was a very singular man in many re- 
 spects, but particularly in the article of dress. He had 
 but one coat, which he always wore open before, ex- 
 cept the lower button; no waistcoat: and his shirt was 
 quite the reverse of those used by other people, having 
 no opening before, but buttoned close at the collar 
 behind. He wore a kind of flaxen wig, which had not 
 a crooked hair in it, and probably had never been 
 combed from the time of its being made. 
 
 When he had any thing to publish, he always walked 
 up to London, to revise the proof himself, it being one 
 of his favourite maxims to trust no eyes but his own. 
 He never advanced any mathematical proposition, 
 which he had not first triecl in practice, constantly 
 making all the different parts himself upon a small 
 scale, so that his house was filled with all kinds of 
 mechanical instruments together or disjointed. He , 
 would frequently stand up to his middle in v^^ater, 
 while fishing, which he considered as a most excellent ; 
 diversion. He used to study incessantly for some time, 
 and then, for relaxation, take a ramble to some ale 
 house, where he could unbend his mind by conversa- • 
 tion with such persons as he could find there. The 
 dukeof Manchester was highly pleased with his com- 
 pany, and used often to come to him in the fields and go 
 home with him; but could never persuade him to get 
 into a carriage. He w^as a married man, and his 
 wife used to spin on an old fashioned vt'heel, whereof 
 a very accurate drawing is given in his mathematics. 
 
DICTIONARY. S03 
 
 He was deeply skilled in the science of music, the 
 theory of sounds, and the various scales, both ancient 
 
 d modern, but was a very poor performer. 
 
 Towards the close of the year, 1781, being sensible 
 of his approaching dissolution, he disposed of the 
 whole of his mathematical library to a bookseller at 
 York, and on May 20lh, 1782, he died of a lingering 
 2nd painful disorder, at his native village, in the eighti- 
 
 ] year of his age. 
 
 The following is a list of* Mr. Emerson^s works: 
 
 The doctrine of Fluxions. 2. The Projection of the 
 Sphere, Orthographic^ Stereographic and Gnomical, 
 
 The Elements of Trigonometry. 4. TJie Principles 
 of Mechanics, 5. A Treatise on Navigation. G. A Trea- 
 tise on Algebra, 7 . The Arithmetic of Infinifes, 8 . Me* 
 chanics; or the Doctrine of Motion. 9. The Elements 
 of Optics, 10. A system of Astronomy . 1 1 . The Lazes 
 of Centripetal and Centrifugal force. 12. The Ma- 
 thcmatical Elements of Geography. 1 3 . Cijclomathesis, 
 or an easy Introduction to the scirral Brandies of the 
 Mathematics. 14. A short Comment on Sir Isaac Xew- 
 tons Principia, &ic. 15. Tracts, ^vo. 
 
 ENFIELD, (Rev. Dr. William) was born at 
 
 Sudbury, in Suffolk, England, April 9th. 1741. His 
 
 parents, were in a humble condition of life, which they 
 
 endered respectable by their virtues. Hence, his 
 
 arly education was on the narrow scale marked out 
 
 by his circumstances. By his amiable disposition and 
 
 promising parts, he recommended himself to the Rev„ 
 
 Mr. Hextall, the dissenting minister of the place, 
 
 nwho treated him with peculiar notice, and took plca- 
 
 iKure in forn^ing his youthful mind. He particularly 
 
 {■awakened in him a sensibility to the beauties of the 
 
 »Bprincipal English poets,among whom Akenside by the 
 
 rjpharms of his versification, and the exalted tone of 
 
 is philosophy, was a pecunar favourite both with 
 
 he instructor and pupil. Indeed, it appears no un- 
 
S04 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 reasonable supposition, that to his early fondness for 
 this author, Dr. Enfield was indebted more than to 
 any other single circumstance, for that uniform puri-. 
 ty of language, that entire freedom from any thing 
 like vulgarity, as well in conversation as in writing, 
 by which he was ever distinguished. Mr. Hextall's 
 good opinion was probably the chief cause of his be- 
 ing devoted to the christian ministry. In his seven- 
 teenth ye^r, he w^as sent to the academy of Daven- 
 try, where he passed the usual course of preparatory 
 study for the pulpit. 
 
 It was a striking proof of the attractions he posses- 
 sed as a preacher, and as an amiable man in society,^' 
 that almost- immediately on leaving the academy, he 
 was invited to undertake the office of sole minister to 
 the congregation of Benn's Garden in Liverpool, one 
 of the most respectable among the dissenters. To 
 that situation he was ordained in November 1763 ; 
 and here he passed seven of the happiest years of his 
 iife. 
 
 In this place, he commenced his literary career 
 with two volumes of sermons, printed in 1768, and 
 1770, which were very favourably received by the 
 public. Their pleasing moral strain, marked by no 
 systematic peculiarities, so well adapted them for ge- 
 neral use, that many congregations, besides that in 
 w4iich they were originally preached, had the benefit 
 of the instruction they conveyed. A collection of 
 hymns and family prayers further added to his profes- 
 sional and literary reputation. 
 
 On the death of the Rev. Mr. Seddon of Warring- 
 ton, Mr. Enfield was one of the first persons thought 
 of bv the trustees of that academv to succeed him,, in 
 the offices of tutor in the belles-lettres, and ot resi- 
 dent conductor of the discipline, under the title of 
 Rector Acadtmidc. With respect to his fitness for the 
 first, no doubt can be entertained. The second was 
 an untried experiment, depending for its success upon 
 qualities, of temper rarely meeting in one individual. 
 
DICTIONARY. S05 
 
 Whatever could be eff?cted by those amiable endow- 
 ments which conciliate affection, might be hoped from 
 one, who^was become the delight of a large circle of 
 acquaintance ; but in those emergencies where firm- 
 ness, resolution, and a kind of dignified severity of con- 
 duct might be requisite, there was cause to appre- 
 hend a failure. He had his misgivings, but they 
 were overcome by the encouragement and importu- 
 nity of friends; and the offered situation, was, in seve- 
 ral respects such as might flatter a young man, fond of 
 literary society and ambitious of a proper field for the 
 display of his talents. He accepted it, together with 
 the office of minister to the dissenting congregation of 
 Warrington. The occupations, in which he was en- 
 gaged were extensive and complicated ; but no m>aa 
 had ever a better right to confide in his own industry 
 and readiness, ' 
 
 Every one acquainted with the attempts, which have 
 been made by the British dissenters, to institute places 
 of education for the advanced periods of youth, must 
 have been sensible of the extreme difliculty of uniting 
 the liberal plan of a collegiate life with such a system 
 of internal discipline, as shall secure sobriety of man- 
 ners and diligence in the pursuit of study. Those 
 sanctions, which, however imperfectly, serve as en- 
 gines of government in seminaries established by the 
 state, must ever be wanting in private institutions, 
 which cannot annex to the grossest violation of their 
 laws, a higher penalty than simple expulsion, followed 
 by no disabilities or deprivations, and probably held 
 extremely cheap by those, who have most deserved it. 
 Warrington had a full share of this difficulty ; and also 
 laboured under others, which rendered its existence, 
 though, at times, it appeared flourishing and respecta- 
 ble, little better than a Ions strug:sle against incurable 
 disease. The efforts of Dr. Enfield were faithfully 
 joined, with those of his colleagues to support its credit 
 and to remedy evils as they occured ; but all was of 
 
 Vol. 11. No. 14. a 2 
 
306 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 I 
 
 lis 
 
 J 
 
 no avail ; the crisis of the institution arrived in 178 
 and its embarrassment was cured by its dissolution. 
 
 However toilsome and anxious this period of Dr. 
 Enfield's life might have been, it was that of rapid 
 mental improvement. By the company he kept, and 
 the business he had to go through, his faculties were, 
 strained to full exertion : nor was it only as a tutor 
 that he employed his talents : he greatly extended his 
 reputation as a writer. 
 
 The degree of doctor of laws, which added a ne 
 title to his name, during his residence at Warrington, 
 was conferred upon him by the university of Edin- 
 burgh. 
 
 After the dissolution of the academy. Dr. Enfield 
 remained two years at Warrington, occupied in the 
 education of private pupils, and in the care of his 
 congregation. For the instruction of the latter, he 
 drew up a series of discourses on the principal incidents 
 and moral precepts of the gospel, in which he display- 
 ed both his talents as a commentator, and his skill in 
 expounding into general lessons of conduct, these hints 
 and particular observations, which occur in the sacred 
 narratives. This will not be an improper place to give 
 some account of Dr. Enfield's character as a preacher 
 and a divine. His manner of delivery was grave andi 
 impressive, affecting rather a tenor of uniform dignity, 
 than a variety of expression, for which his voice waa 
 not well calculated. 
 
 As to his matter, it was almost exclusively that of ai 
 moral preacher. His theological system was purged 
 of every mysterious or unintelligible proposition j it in- 
 cluded nothing, which appeared to him irrcconcilcable 
 with sound philosophy, and the most rational opinions 
 concerning the divine nature and perfections. It will 
 be seen from the subjects he selected for publication, 
 that moral topics^ were more congenial to him than 
 doctrinal 3 and his character as a public instructor must 
 hz derived from the manner in which he treated th^m. 
 Prcbably it will be found, that scarcely any writer has 
 
DICTIONARY. 307 
 
 entered with more delicacy into the minute and less 
 obvious points of morality ; or more skilfully marked 
 out the nice discriminations of virtue and vice, of the 
 fit and unfit. He has not only delineated the path of 
 the strictly right, but of the amiable and becoming. 
 He has aimed at rendering mankind, not only mutu- 
 ally serviceable, but mutually agreeable, and has de- 
 lighted in painting true goodness, with all those co- 
 lours, which it was said of old, would make her so 
 cnchantins:, should she ever become visible to mortal 
 eyes» 
 
 In 1785, receiving an invitation from the octagon- 
 dissenting congregation at Norwich, a society with 
 whom any man might esteem it an honour and hap- 
 piness to be connected, he accepted it, and having 
 moved to that city, for some years, continued his 
 plan of domestic education. Though he was emi- 
 nently happy in his mode of educating a small num- 
 ber, of which several striking examples might be ad- 
 duced, yet like most, who have adopted that plan, he 
 found, that the unpleasant restraint, arising from a 
 party of young men, so far domiciliated, that they left 
 neither time nor place for family privacy, more than 
 compensated the advantages to be derived from such 
 an employment of his talents. He, therefore, at 
 length determined to be perfectly master of his own 
 time, and to give to his family, friends and spontane- 
 ous literary pursuits, all the leisure he possessed from 
 his professional duties. 
 
 He had not yet completely detached himself from 
 the business of tuition, when he undertook the most 
 laborious of his literary tasks, an abridgment of 
 "Brucker's History of Philosophy." This work ap- 
 peared in 2 vols. 4 to. in the year 1791, and would at 
 once have been sufficient to establish the writer's 
 character, as a master of an excellent style of com- 
 position, and a judicious selector of what was most 
 valuable in the representation of manners and opini- 
 ons. The original work has obtained a high reputa.- 
 
SqS new biographical 
 
 tion amongst the learned, for the depth of its research- 
 es, and the Hberahty of its spirit; but its Latin style is 
 involved and prolix, and the heaviness, which per- 
 vades the whole, has rendered it rather a book for 
 occasional consultation, than for direct perusal. But 
 Dr. Enfield's abridgement, is a work equally instruc- 
 tive and agreeable; and it may be pronounced, thatj 
 the tenets of all the leading sects of philosophers werei 
 never before displayed with such elegance and per- 
 spicuity, in the English language. His style, chaste, 
 clear, correct, free from all affectation and singularity, 
 was proper for all topics; and the spirit of method and 
 order, which reigned in his own mind, communicated 
 itself to every subject, which he touched upon. 
 These qualities, together with that candour, which 
 was interwoven in his very constitution, especially; 
 fitted him to take a part in a literary journal, and to) 
 one of the most respectable of these works, he was 
 long a considerable contributor. The institution ofa^ 
 new magazine, under the name of the AIojit/ili/,\ 
 which, in its plan, embraced a larger circle of original 
 literature than usual with these miscellanies, engaged 
 him to exercise his powers as an essayist on a variety 
 of topics; and the papers, with which he enriched it, 
 under the title of the '^ Enquirer," obtained great ap-' 
 plause from the manly freedom of their sentiment, 
 and the correct elegance of their language. 
 
 In the year 1796, he felt himself so much in the 
 full vigour and maturity of his powers, that he did not 
 hesitate to associate himself with I. Akin, M. D. one 
 of his oldest and most intimate companions, in a lite- 
 rary undertaking of great merit, which looked to a 
 distant period for its completion, we mean a ^* Gen- 
 eral Biographical Dictionary." The composition of 
 this work proved so agreeable to Dr. Enfield, that he 
 was often heard to say, his hours of study had never 
 passed so pleasantly with him, and the progress he 
 made was proportioned to his industry and good will. 
 Every circumstance seem.ed to promise him years of 
 
DICTIONARY. 309 
 
 comfort in store. He was happy himself, and im- 
 parted that happiness to all, who came within the 
 sphere of his influence. But an incurable disease 
 was/in the mean time, making unsuspected advances. 
 A scirrhous contraction of the rectum, by deno> 
 ting itself only by symptoms, which he did not under- 
 stand, was preparing, without pain or general disease, 
 to effect a sudden and irresistable change. The very 
 day before this disorder manifested itself, he was 
 complim.ented on his chearful spirits, and healthy 
 looks, and himself confessed, that he had nothing, 
 bodily or mental, of which he ought to complain. 
 But the obstruction was now formed. A sickness 
 came on; the proper functions of the intestines were 
 suspended; nothing was able to give relief: and after 
 a week passed rather in constant uneasiness, than in 
 acute pain, with his faculties entire nearly to the last, 
 foreseeing the fatal event and meeting it with manly 
 fortitude, he expired without a struggle, 3d Nov. 
 1797, in the fifty-seventh year of his age. 
 
 ERASMUS (Desiderius,) was born at Rotterdam 
 in Holland 28th October 1467. He lost both his 
 parents, before he had arrived at his 14th year, in 
 consequence of which he was committed to the care 
 of certain guardians, who endeavoured to force him 
 to be an ecclesiastic; but he, for a long time, resisted 
 their importunity. He was, however, at last obliged 
 to assume the religious habit, among the canons regu- 
 lar, in the monastery of Stein, near Tcrgon, but after- 
 wards obtained a dispensation for his vows. He was 
 the most learned man of the age in which he lived; 
 and greatly contributed by his writings to the resto- 
 ration of learning in the several countries, in which 
 he resided viz. Italy, Swirzerland, Holland, France, 
 and England. With the last of these, he was best 
 satisfied, being greatly caressed by ail the learned 
 men, particularly by Sir Thomas Moore. His writ- 
 
310 NEW BIOGRAPHICAt 
 
 1 
 
 j'ngs, which though then held in the highest estimas- 
 tion, gained him, whilst alive, numerous enemies; for 
 as he did not embrace the reformation, and yet cen- 
 sured many things in the Roman Church, he hath 
 t3een treated rigorously, both by catholics andprotes- 
 tants. 
 
 The works of Erasmus, in 10 vols, folio, wer 
 published at Ley den, in 1706, in a very neat man 
 ner, under the care of M. Le Clerc, but as they a 
 too numerous for us to particularize, we shall onl 
 mention a few of the most interesting. l.Decon 
 temptu mundi," which he published when he was 
 only in his 20th year. 2. *' De copia verborum,'* 
 3. " De conscribendis epistolis." 4. *' Enchiridion 
 militis Christiani,'* which he wrote, as he tells us, 
 " not for the sake of shewing his eloquence, but to 
 correct a vulgar error of those, who made religion to 
 consist in rites and ceremonies, to the neglect of vir-« 
 tue and true piety." This publication highly offend- 
 ed the dominicans, whose clamours against it, how- 
 ever, only tended to make its merit better known. 
 5. A translation from Plutarch, entitled, "How to| 
 distinguish a friend from a flatterer.** 6. " The Praise I 
 of Folly." 7. " Colloquies," which he drew up part- 1 
 ]y, that young persons might have a book to teach 
 them the Latin tongue, and religion and morals at 
 the same time ; and, partly to cure the bigoted world, 
 if he could, of that superstitious devotion, which the 
 Monks so industriously propagated. The liveliest 
 strokes in them, have the monks and their religion 
 for their object; on which account they no sooner 
 appeared, than a most outrageous clamour was rais- 
 ed against them. He was accused of laughing at in- 
 dulgences, auricular confession, eating flesh upon 
 fast days, &c. and it is certain, that he did not talk 
 of these things in the most devout way. A provincial 
 council held at Cologne in 1549, condemned those 
 colloquies, as not fit to be read in schools. Let who 
 will condemn tbcm^, however, they contain a treasure 
 
DICTIONARY. 511 
 
 of Wit and good sense, which cannot be too much 
 admired. 8. " Diatribe de libero arbitrio," against 
 Luther, which Luther replied to, in a treatise entitl- 
 ed, " De servo arbitrio/' in which he tells him, that 
 " his Diatribe, as to the manner and composition, is 
 very elegant; as to the matter, very contemptible and 
 resembling an excrement in a golden dish.*' He 
 mixes compUment, praise, scorn, insult, ridicule and 
 invective together, and flings them at his head. Eras- 
 mus being much provoked at this treatment, imme- 
 diately wrote a reply, which was the first of Hyper- 
 aspistes : the second was published in 1 527. 
 
 In the year 1535, finding himself worn down with 
 i age, pain and sickness, he settled at Basil to try, if he 
 could recover his health. In the summer of 1536, 
 however he grew worse, and died July 12th, in the 
 69th year of his age. He was buried in the cathedral 
 I church of Basil, where his tomb is still to be seen, 
 I with a Latin inscription on the marble, of which a 
 i copy is inserted in the first volume of his works. By 
 I his will, he left handsome legacies to his friends, and 
 the remainder to be distributed to relieve the sick 
 and the poor, to marry young women and to assist 
 young men of good characters ; by which it appear- 
 ed that the world had, at that time, been at least, fully 
 as liberal in rewarding hterary merit as it is at pre- 
 sent. 
 
 Nothing has made the city of Rotterdam more fa- 
 mous, than her giving birth to this great man ; nor 
 has she been insensible of the honour, but hath testi- 
 fied her regard to him in the following manner. In 
 the first place, the house, in which he w^as born, is 
 adorned with an inscription, to inform both natives 
 and strangers of the birth-place of this illustrious per- 
 sonage. Secondly, a statue of copper, was erected to 
 his memory, which is greatly admired by the connois- 
 seurs. It is in an open part of the city, by the side of 
 a canal, upon a pedestal, adorned with inscriptions, 
 and surrounded with iron rails. Thirdly, the college. 
 
$12 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 in that place, bears bis name. At Basil, likewise, 
 where he died, the place where the lectures in divinity 
 are read, is called the college of Erasmus, and thq 
 founders of the academy, at Flatbush, Long Island 
 now one of the most respectable institutions of thq 
 kind, in the state of New-York, have done honour to 
 his memory by calling it " Erasmus Hall." 
 
 Dr. Jortin published his life in one volume, 4ta 
 in 1758, 
 
 E\^ANS, (Nathaniel) was born in the city o 
 Philadelphia, June 8th, 1742, and was sent to th 
 academy there, soon after it was first opened, anc 
 before the collegiate part of the institution was begun 
 Having spent about six years in grammar learning, his 
 parents, who were reputable citizens, designing him 
 for merchandit^e, put him apprentice ; but nqt finding 
 either his genius or inclination leading him much tc 
 that profession, he devoted more of his time to the 
 service of the muses, than to the business of the 
 compting house. Soon after the expiration of hi^. 
 apprenticeship, he accordingly returned to the collegCji 
 and applied himself, with great diligence to the study 
 of philosophy and the sciences, till the commencement^ 
 May 30th. 1765 ; when, on account of his great 
 merit and promising genius, he was, by special man- 
 date of the trustees, upon the recommendation of the 
 provost and faculty of professors complimented witl" 
 a diploma for the degree of Master of arts, althougl" 
 he had not taken the previous degree of batcheloi 
 on account of the interruption, in his course of 
 studies, during the term of his apprenticeship. 
 
 Immediately after the commencement, he embarked 
 for England carrying with him recommendations to 
 the society for propagating the gospel in foreign parts, 
 as a fit person to supply the new mission, then pro- 
 posed to be opened for Gloucester county, in New 
 Jersey. Upon the society *s nomination, he was 
 
DICTIONARY. 3l3 
 
 admitted into holy orders, by Doctor Terrick, bishop 
 of London, who expressed great satisfaction, in his 
 examination, and particularly in tlie perusal of an 
 English piece, which he composed in a few minutes 
 upon a theological question, which he was desired to 
 give his sentiments upon. 
 
 He returned from England, and landed at Phila- 
 delphia, Dec. 26, 1765. Upon his arrival, he entered 
 immediately upon the business of his mission; and, 
 alas ! but lived just lon^ enough to shew, by the 
 goodness of his temper, the purity of his morals, the 
 cheerfulness and alTability of his conversation, the 
 sublimity and soundness of his doctrines, and the 
 warmth of his pulpit composition, how well he was 
 qualified for the sacred office to which he' had now 
 wholly devoted himself. He died, October 29th 1767, 
 lamented by all who knew him ; and by none more 
 earnestly and affectionately, than his own congrega- 
 tion, whom he had not yet served two years. 
 
 EUGENE, (Francis) prince of Savoy was born 
 in the year 1663. His father was general of the Swiss 
 and Grisons, governor of Champagne in France and 
 earl of Soissons ; his mother was niece to the celebrated 
 cardinal Mazarine. He was originally designed for 
 the church, in which there was reason to expect, that 
 he would rise to one of the most eminent stations, his 
 relations on the side of both his parents having great 
 influence at court : but his father dying before he was 
 ten years of age, occasioned an alteration, in his 
 intended profession, which was, indeed, by no 
 means suitable to his genius. He was a youth of a 
 vast spirit, and so jealous of the honour of his family, 
 that, when his mother was banished by the king's 
 order from the French court to the Low Coun- 
 tries, soon after her husband's decease, he pro- 
 tested against the injustice of her banishment, and 
 vowed eternal enmity against the contrivers of it. 
 Vol. IL No. 14. R2 
 
^14 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 He was yet for a time trained to the service of the 
 thurchj but having no reh'sh that way, he requested 
 of the king to give him some military employment. 
 His request, however, was denied, sometimes on 
 account of the weakness of his constitution, and at 
 other times for want of a vacancy, or because there 
 was no war to employ the troops. Apprehending from 
 hence, that he was not likely to be promoted, accord- 
 ing to what he thought his deserts, in France; and 
 perceiving, that he was involved in the disgrace of his"" 
 mother, he resolved to retire to Vienna, with his 
 brother Prince Philip, to whom the emperor's ambasr 
 sadorhad, in his master's name, promised a regiment 
 of horse. They were kindly received by the emperor, 
 with whom Eugene immediatly became a very great 
 favourite. He had, in the mean time, many flattering 
 invitations to return to France, but his fidelity to the 
 emperor remained unshaken, and he resolved to spend 
 his life in the service of the house of Austria. 
 
 The war betwen the emperor and the Turks, 
 afforded the first opportunity of exerting his military 
 talents ; and every campaign proved a new step in his 
 advancernent to the highest offices in the army. He, ia 
 1 697, gave the Turks a memorable defeat at Zenta J 
 near Peterwarden; and afterwards commanded the* 
 German forces in Italy, where he foiled the French 
 general, Marshal Viileroy in every engagement, ancfl 
 at length took him prisoner. His victories over* 
 the Turks, and afterwards over the French, which 
 are too numerous to be detailed in this w'ork, have 
 rendered his name immortal in the annals of fame* 
 But he, in particular, signalized himself greatly in 
 that war, in which the emperor united with Queen 
 Anne of England, to curb the exorbitant power of 
 Lewis XIV. We shall not enlarge upon the many 
 memorable things, which were performed by this 
 great statesman and soldier, during the course of 
 this war, which proved so fatal to the ambition of the 
 
DICTIONARY, 315 
 
 Grand Monarch, The battles of Schellinburg, Blen- 
 
 ham, Turin Sec. Szc. are so particularly related in al. 
 
 most innumerable histories, that it would be needless 
 
 to insist upon them here. 
 
 This illustrious hero died at Vienna, April 10th 
 
 1736, in his 73d year. He was found dead in his 
 bed, though he had been very gay the night before 
 . with company, whom he had entertained at supper 
 without making the least complaint ; and it was sup- 
 posed, that he was choaked by an immoderate deflux- 
 ion of rheum, with which he was sometimes trou- 
 bled. He was a man no less remarkable for his ge- 
 nerosity, than for his transcendent abilities in the field 
 and in the cabinet, and of so great and unaffected 
 modesty, that he could scarcely bear with any tolera- 
 ble grace, the just acknowledgments, which were al- 
 most universally paid him, 
 
 EULER, (Leonard) was born at Basil, in Swit- 
 *?erland, 14th April, 1707. After being instructed in 
 the first principles of learning, by his father, who was 
 minister of the village of Richen, he was sent to the 
 university of Basil, where he made great progress in 
 all the academical studies of that seminary ; but par- 
 ticularly in geometry, which soon became his favour- 
 ite pursuit ; and in consequence of his rapid improve- 
 ment in that science, he obtained a distinguished 
 place in the esteem of professor John Bernouilli, who 
 was, at that time, one of the first mathematicians in 
 Europe. 
 
 In 172S, Mr. Euler took his degree as Master of 
 Arts, and afterwards, at his father's desire, applied 
 himself to the study of theology and the oriental lan- 
 guages, in which studies, though foreign to his predo- 
 minant propensity, his success was very considerable j, 
 but, after some time, he was permitted by his father 
 to return to geometry- as his principal object. He 
 continued all this time, to avail himself of the couneel 
 
316 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 and instructions of Mr. Bernouilli, and had also con- 
 tracted an intimate acquaintance with two of his son^ 
 through whose means, he afterwards became the prin 
 cipal ornament of the academy of sciences, at Pe 
 tersburgh. The project of erecting this academy^ 
 which had been formed by Peter the Great, was ex 
 cuted by Catharine I. and the two young Bernouilli 
 being invited thither in 1725, promised Euler, wb 
 was desirous of following them, that they would u 
 their utmost endeavours to procure him a place in it. 
 In the mean time, he, by their advice, applied him- 
 self to the study of physic, and attended the medical 
 lectures of the most eminent professors of Basil. This 
 study, however, did not wholly engross his time , net 
 relax the activity of his comprehensive mind, in the 
 cultivation of other branches of natural science ; fot 
 whilst he was keenly engaged in medical researches^ 
 he composed "A Dissertation on the Nature and Pro- 
 pagation of Sound," and an answer to a prize question 
 concerning the masting of ships, to which the aca- 
 demy of sciences at Paris adjudged the accessit or se- 
 cond rank. From this latter discourse, and other cir- 
 cumstances, it appears that Euler had early embarked 
 in the curious and important study of" navigation! 
 which he afterwards enriched with so many valuablj 
 discoveries. i| 
 
 Soon after this, he was called to St. Petersburgh 
 and was admitted as an assistant professor in the uni 
 versity of that city. At his first setting out i*n h' 
 new career, he enriched the academical collectio 
 with many memoirs, which excited a noble emula^ 
 tion between him and the Bernouillis ; and this emu- 
 lation always continued, without either degeneratin 
 into a selfish jealousy, or producing the least alterf 
 tion in their friendship. It was, at this time, that he 
 carried to new degrees of perfection the integral cal- 
 culus, invented the calculation of sines, reduced ana-; 
 lytical operations to a greater simplicity, and thus was 
 enabled to throvir new light on all the parts of mathe- 
 
DICTIONARY. 317 
 
 matical science. In 1730, he was promoted to the 
 professorship of natural philosophy, and in 1733 he 
 succeeded his friend D. Bernouilli in the mathemati- 
 cal chair. In 1735, a problem was proposed by the 
 academy, which required expedition, and for the so- 
 lution of which, several eminent mathematicians had 
 demanded the space of some months. The problem 
 was solved by Euler in three days, to the astonish- 
 ment of the academy ; but the violent and laborious 
 efforts it cost him threw him into a fever, which en- 
 dangered his life, and deprived him of the use of his 
 right eye. The academy of sciences at Paris, which 
 in 1738, had adjudged the prize to his memoir con- 
 cerning the nature and properties of fire, proposed for 
 the year 1740, the important subject of the sea tides; 
 a problem, whose solution required the most ardu- 
 ous calculation and comprehended the theory of the 
 solar system. This prize Euler did not gain alone ; 
 but he divided it with the celebrated Colin M'Laurin 
 and D. Bernouilli. Rarely, if ever, did such a brilli- 
 ant competition adorn the annals of the academy ; 
 and no subject, perhaps, proposed by that learned 
 body was ever treated with such accuracy of investi- 
 gation and force of genius, as that, which here dis- 
 played the philosophical powers of these three extra- 
 ordinary men. 
 
 In 1741, Mr. Euler received an invitation from 
 Frederic II. of Prussia, to repair to the academy of 
 sciences at Berlin, with which, after some hesitation, 
 he thought proper to comply. He accordingly en- 
 riched the last volume of the " Melanges de Berlin,'* 
 with five essays, which make an eminent, perhaps 
 the principal figure in that collection. These were 
 followed by a great number of important researches, 
 which are scattered through the memoirs of the Prus- 
 sian academy, of which a volume has been regularly 
 published every year, since its first establishment in 
 1744. No part of his multifarious labours is, perhaps, 
 a more wonderful proof of the extensiveness and fa- 
 
318 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 cility of his genius, than what he executed at Berlin, 
 at a time when he still continued his philosophical 
 contributions to the academy of Petersburgh, which, 
 on account of his transcendent merit, granted him a 
 pension in 1742, 
 
 It was with much difficulty, that this great man 
 obtained, in 1766, permission from the king of Prus- 
 sia to return to Petersburgh, where he desired to pass 
 the remainder of his days. Soon after his return, 
 which was well rewarded by the munificence oi 
 Catharine II. he was seized with a violent disorder^ 
 which terminated in the total loss of his sight. It 
 was in this distressing situation, that he dictated U 
 his servant:, who was totally ignorant of every part ol 
 mathematical learning, his knowledge of algebra, 
 v/hich, by its intrinsic merit, in point of method and 
 perspicuity, and the unhappy circumstances, in which 
 it .was composed, has equally excited applause and 
 astonishment. This work, though purely elementary, 
 discovers the palpable characteristics of an inventive 
 genius ; and it is here alone, that we meet a com- 
 plete theory of the analysis of Diophantus. 
 
 About this time, Mr. Euler, was honoured by the 
 academy of sciences at Paris, with the place of one of 
 the foreign members of that learned body ; and after 
 this, the academical prize was adjudged to three of his 
 memoirs, " Concerning the Inequalities in the mo- 
 tions of the Planets.'* The two prize questions propo- 
 sed by the same academy for 1769 and 1772, were 
 designed to obtain from the labours of astronomers, a 
 more perfect theory of the moon, Mr. Euler, was a 
 competitor for these prizes, and obtained them both. 
 In this last memoir, he reserved for further considera- 
 tion several inequalities of the moon's motion, which 
 he could not determine in his first theory, on account 
 of the complicated calculations, in which the me- 
 thod he then employed, had engaged him. He had 
 the courage afterwards to review his whole theory. 
 
DICTIONARY. $l§ 
 
 With the assistance of his Son, and Messieurs KrafFt, 
 and Lexell, and to pursue his researches until he had 
 constructed the new tables, which appeared together 
 with this great work in 1772. Instead of confining 
 himself as before to the fruitless integration of three 
 differential equations of the second degree, which are 
 furnished by mathematical principles, he reduced 
 them to three ordinates, which determine the place 
 of the moon: he divided into classes all the inequa- 
 lities of that planet, as far as they depend either on the 
 elongation of the sun and moon, or upon the eccen- 
 tricity, the paralax, or the inclination of the lunar 
 Drbit. All these means of investigation employed 
 ^ith such art and dexterity as could only be expected 
 Tom an analytical genius of the first order, were at- 
 :ended with the greatest success; and it is impossi- 
 ble to observe, without admiration, such immense 
 :alculations on the one hand, and on the other, the 
 ngenious methods employed by this great man to 
 ibridge them, and to facilitate their application to the 
 eal motion of the moon. But this admiration will 
 )ecome astonishment, when we consider, at what pe- 
 iod and under what circumstances, all this was ef- 
 "ected by «Mr. Euler. It was, when he was totally 
 )lind, and consequently obliged to arrange all his 
 :omputations by the sole powers of his memory, and 
 lis genius. It was, when he was embarrassed 1n his 
 iomestic circumstances by a dreadful fire, which had 
 onsumed great part of his substance, and forced him 
 quit a ruined house, of which every corner was 
 mown to him by habit, which, in some measure, sup- 
 )lied him the place of sight. It was, in these cir- 
 mmstances, that Euler composed a work, which 
 done was sufficient to render his name immortal. 
 The heroic patience, and tranquility of mind, which 
 le displayed here needs no description ; and he de- 
 lved them not only from the love of science, but 
 rom the power of religion. His philosophy was too 
 genuine and sublime to stop its analysis at mechani- 
 
S20 KEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 cal causes; it led him to that divine philosophy of re- 
 ligion, which ennobles human nature, and can alone 
 form a habit of true magnanimity and patience in 
 sufferings. 
 
 Some time after this, the famous Wehtzell, by 
 couching the cataract, restored Mr. Euler's sight j 
 but the satisfaction and joy, which this successful op- 
 eration produced, were of short duration. Some in- 
 stances of negligence on the part of his surgeons, 
 and his own impatience, to use an organ whose cure 
 was not completely finished, deprived him of his 
 sight a second time ; and this relapse was accom- 
 panied with tormenting pain. He, however, with 
 the assistance of his sons and of Messrs. Kraft and 
 Lexcll, continued his labours, neither the loss of his 
 sight, nor the infirmities of an advanced age, being 
 able to damp the ardour of his genius. He had en- 
 gaged to furnish the academy of Petersburgh, with as 
 many memoirs, as would be sufficient to fill their vo- 
 lumes for twenty years after his death, and it is pro- 
 bable, that he kept his word, having presented se- 
 venty papers in the course of his life, and left two 
 hundred and fifty more behind him ; nor is there oi 
 of these, which does not contain a discovery, or somi 
 thing, which may lead to one. Such of these memoii 
 as were of ancient date, were separated from the re 
 and form a collection, which was published in tl 
 year 1782, under the title of " Analytical WorksT 
 Euler's knowledge was more universal than coul 
 be well expected in one, who had pursued, with such 
 unremitting ardour, mathematics and astronomy as 
 his favourite object. He had made a very considcv 
 rable progress, in medical, botanical and chemic^ 
 science. What was still more extraordinary, he waf 
 an excellent scholar, and possesed what is generally 
 called erudifion^m a very high degree. He had rej 
 with attention and taste, the most eminent writers 
 ancient Rome ; the civil and literary history of ; 
 ages and nations was familiar to him 3 and foreign 
 
DICTIONARY. S2l 
 
 ers, who were only acquainted with his works, w^re 
 astonished to find in the conversation of a man, whose 
 long life seemed solely occupied in mathematical and 
 physical discoveries, such an extensive acquaintance 
 with the most interesting branches of literature. In 
 this respect, no doubt, he was much indebted, to a 
 very uncommon memory, which seemed to retain 
 every idea once conveyed to it, either from reading or 
 meditation. He could repeat Virgil's ^neid from 
 begining to end, without hesitation, and indicate the 
 first and last line of every page of the edition he used. 
 Several attacks of a vertigo, in the beginning of 
 
 epteraber 1783, which did not prevent his calculating 
 the motions of the aerostatical globes, were, never- 
 
 beless, the forerunners of his mild and happy passage 
 
 rom this world to a better. On the evening of the 
 venth, whilst he was amusing himself with one of 
 is grand children, he was struck with an apoplexy, 
 hich, in a few hours, terminated his illustrious career, 
 
 t the age of 76. 
 
 FABRE, (D'Eglantine) was born at Chalons, 
 h Champaigne, France; in 1759. He was educated in 
 lite literature and natural philosophy ; and from his 
 outh felt an invincible inclination to court the muses, 
 n the year 1786, he published in a French periodical 
 ork, entitled " Les Etrennes du Parnasse," a little 
 oem called " Chalons sur Marne," in which he 
 rewavery charming picture of the moral pleasures, 
 hich were to be found in that place and its neigh- 
 Urhood. This piece, however, was then considered 
 a juvenile composition, and fell very short of produc- 
 ng that degree of celebrity, which its author after- 
 ards attained. 
 
 In the years 1789 and 1790, he [VQblished two well 
 
 nown comedies; ** La Philinte," and L'Intrigue 
 
 pistolaire ;'* and soon after appeared as a performer 
 
 the theatres of Lyons and Nesmis. In this station, 
 
 iOwever, he did not long continue ; for, being con- 
 
 Vol IL No. 13. S2 
 
322 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 ^idered as a great patriot, be was chosen as a deputy 
 to the National Convention. In that assembly, during 
 the winter and spring of the year 1793, -his conduct 
 was far from being commendable. It was generally 
 understood, at Paris, that, in conjunction withDanton 
 and Robespierc, he contributed not a little towards 
 effecting the infamous arrest of the Brissotines, on the 
 3 1st May. A few days after that event, he observed to 
 a friend, that the domineering spirit of the Girondines, 
 •who had engrossed all the power and offices of the 
 state, had compelled him and his colleagues, in order 
 to shake off the yoke, to throw themselves into the 
 hands of the Sanscullottcrie, He could not help, 
 however, foreboding dangerous consequences from 
 the proceedings of that day, as the same mob, which 
 had been taught to despise the legislature, might, at 
 the instigation of another faction, overthrow him and 
 his friends in their turn. This presentiment of Fabre 
 was afterwards but too fully verified. 
 
 On the removal of the Girondines and the estab- 
 lishment of the Mountain party in power, Fabre be- 
 gan to act a considerable part. He was appointed 
 a member of the committee of public instruction, 
 and, in that station. In the month of August, 1793, 
 gave his vote for suppressing all academies and lite- 
 rary corporations, which he alledged, from their pri- 
 vileges and aristocratic spirit, ought to be considered 
 as inimical to a republican government. 
 
 But the most remarkable of Fabre's transactions 
 as a legislator, was his submitting to the convention^ || 
 in the month of October, 1793, the plan of a new ' 
 calendar, which was soon after adopted by that body, 
 and is still continued by the present government 
 of France. In this calendar, the year commences at i 
 mid-night, on the beginning of that day, on which the | 
 true autumnal equinox fails, by the observatory of 
 Paris. The year is divided into 12 equal months of i 
 SO days each, after wliich, five supplementary days || 
 gr/. o.jje(] ^Q complete the 365 days of the year. Each 
 
DIOCTINA^RY. $23 
 
 month IS divided into three decades of 10 days each, 
 distinguished by the names 1st, 2d and 3d, decade. 
 Such is the plan of the French calendar, the pro- 
 jector of which Fabre d'Eglantine, has been highly 
 extolled by some writers, as having, in its execution, 
 evinced an uncommon degree of knowledge in rria- 
 thematics and natural philosophy. For our part, how- 
 ver, wc can see much to censure, but very little to 
 commend in this new-fangled mode of reckoning 
 time. The number of days in the French year is ex- 
 actly the same with that which had been universally- 
 adopted by civilized nations, many centuries before. 
 The names of the months, although, in some degree, 
 appropriate to the seasons of the year, &;c. on this 
 side of the equator, will be quite the reverse on the 
 other ; for, who does not know, that, whilst it is mid- 
 summer in the northern hemisphere, it is mid-winter 
 in the southern, and vice versa F The substitution of 
 ciecades instead of weeks, in the division of the month 
 can be assigned to no other reason than a scheme to 
 eradicate the christian religion, by the abolition of the 
 sabbath. Hence, as might have been reasonably ex- 
 pected this impolitic, not to say impious attempt exci- 
 ted the indignation of all denominations of christians 
 and created a more universal odium against the con- 
 vention, than had been occasioned by any of their 
 previous proceedings. Nor was this disgust confined 
 to France : it extended, likewise, to Great Britain 
 and several other countries of Europe, in all of which, 
 it alienated the affections of many, who had been 
 formerly warmly attached to the French Republic. 
 The truth is, that many of the friends of religion, 
 though opposed to the exclusive establishment of any 
 one sect or party, as a national church, could not help 
 viewing with abhorrence the ascendency ot a new 
 and unprincipled faction, who discovered no less zeal 
 to extirpate Christianity, in every possible shape, than, 
 the Roman church had done in latter times to sup- 
 press, what she termed^ heresy and schism. But it 
 
324 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 likewise appears, that this celebrated calendar, which 
 is said to have reflected so much honour on its author, 
 had not even the charms of novelty to recommend 
 it. It accordingly gave birth to a pleasant pamphlet, 
 entitled, " Le Legislateur a la Mode," in which it was 
 clearly proved, that the 3^1 st chapter of the travels of 
 Anacharsis by the Abbe Barthelemy, where the des* 
 cription of the ancient Greek calendar was introduc- 
 ed, had furnished the leading ideas in the calendar of 
 Tabre d 'Eglantine. 
 
 In the winter of 1794, the Mountain par/tj had split 
 into two divisions, the Jacobms and the Cordeliers j or 
 in other words, the followers of Robespiere, and the 
 followers of Danton. Fabre was of the party of the 
 latter, and was arrested and confined with Danton's 
 other adherents, in the prison of the Luxemburg, in 
 March 1794. From that prison, he wrote a number 
 of letters which were afterwards printed, and have 
 been greatly extolled, as beautiful exhibitions of ta- 
 lents and sensibih'ty in distress. After a month's im- 
 prisonment, he was guilotined along with several 
 others on the 5th April 1794, being then in the 35th 
 year of his age. 
 
 FARINELLI, (Carlo Broschi) was born at 
 Naples, in 1705 ; and, being trained to singing, he 
 had acquired great reputation at Rome and at Bolog- 
 na. The fame of his great talents reaching England, 
 he was engaged to sing at the opera in London, in the 
 year 1734 : for England then was, as it has ever been 
 since, the best place in the world for all the fiddlers, 
 singers, dancers, tumblers, sharpers, and impostors 
 of every kind, to flock to and grow rich. His arrival 
 was announced to the public, in the News-papers, as 
 an event worthy of national attention; and he was no 
 sooner recovered from the fatigue of his journey, than 
 he v/as introduced to the^king at St. James's, and sung 
 
DICTIONARY, 325 
 
 before him and the royal family, the princess royal 
 accompanying him on the harpsicord. 
 
 Upon what terms, Farinelli was engaged-to sing on 
 the London theatre, is not known to a certainty : liis 
 salary, however, be it what it might, bore but a small 
 proportion to the annual amount of his profits. The 
 excessive fondness, which the nobility discovered for 
 this person, the applauses they bestowed on, and the 
 presents they made him, indicated little less than infa- 
 tuation ; their bounty was prodigality, and their ap- 
 plause adoration. *'One God, one King, and one 
 Farinelli," was the enthusiastic and impious exclarna- 
 tion of a lady of exalted rank and fortune, which she 
 uttered aloud from the boxes, on being charmed with 
 a particular passage in one of his songs. The cun- 
 ning eunuch, however, despised their praise, re-paid 
 respect with insult, and pocketing their gold, left the 
 kingdom in 1737. 
 
 Soon after his departure from England, he visited 
 Versailles ; but the French happened to be then too 
 wise, to gratify his exorbitant demands. It happen- 
 ed, about this time, that the King of Spain laboured 
 inider a melancholy disorder, for which no relief could 
 be suggested but music ; and the Queen to make 
 this as delightful to him as possible, sent for Farinelli. 
 On his arrival at Madrid, he had a pension fixed upon 
 him of about 14,000 dollars per annum., with a coach 
 and equipage at the King's expence. Upon the 
 death of Philip V. he was continued in his station by 
 Ferdinand VI. and, in 1750, was honoured with the 
 cross of Calatrava, the badge of a very ancient order 
 of knighthood, in Spain. He continued in that king- 
 dom till about 1761, at which time he returned to 
 his native country, where he lived in the neighbour- 
 hood of Bologna, nearly about 20 years, in a style of 
 princely magnificence. 
 
526 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 FARQUHAR, (George) an ingenious poet, and^ 
 dramatic writer, the son of a clergyman in Ireland, 
 was born in Londonderry, in 1678. There he re-' 
 ccived the rudiments of education, and evinced a 
 genius early devoted to the muses. When he ^(^as 
 very young, he gave specimens of his poetry, and dis-i 
 covered a force of thinking, and turn of express on 
 much beyond his years. In 1694, he v/as sent to 
 Trinity college, Dublin, w^here he made great pro- 
 gress in his studies ; but his gay and volatile dispo- 
 sition not relishing the restraints of a college life, he 
 soon quit it and betook himself to the stage. He had 
 the advantage of a good person, and was well receiv- 
 ed as an actor ; for which reason he had determined 
 to continue on the stage, till something better should 
 occur. His resolution, however, was soon broken 
 by an accident, whereby he had nearly turned a feign- 
 ed tragedy into a real one : for having dangerously 
 v/ounded a brother actor, in a tragic scene, by for- 
 getting to change his sword for a foil, it shocked him 
 so much, that he determined never more to appear 
 on the stage. 
 
 In 1696, he went to London, where he was solicit- 
 ed by his friend Wiiks, the celebrated actor, to write 
 a play ; but he was still more substantially invited 
 by a genteel appointment, which suffered him to 
 exercise his genius at his leisure ; for the earl of Or- 
 rery, who was a patron as well as master of let- 
 ters, gave him a lieutenant's commission in his 
 own regiment, which he held for several years, and 
 gave many proofs, both of conduct and courage. In 
 1698, he wrote his first comedy, called "Love and 
 a Bottle," which for its sprightly dialogue and busy 
 scenes, w^as well received. In the beginning of the 
 year 1700, which was the year of the jubilee at Rome, 
 he brought out his "Constant Couple, or a Trip to 
 the Jubilee;" and suited Mr. Wilk's talents so well, 
 in the character of Sir Harry Wildair, that the play- 
 er gained almost as much reputation as the poet. 
 
DICTIONARY. 327 
 
 This tempted him to continue it, in another come- 
 dy called " Sir Harry Wildair, or The Sequel of 
 the Trip to the Jubilee." His other comedies are 
 " The Inconstant, or the Way to win him." " The Stage 
 Coach," " The Twin Rivals," " The Recruiting 
 Officer," and" The Beaux's Stratagem." He also pub- 
 lished his " Miscellanies, or Collection of Poems, Let- 
 ters and Essays," which contain a variety of humorous 
 and pleasant sallies of fancy. 
 
 Before Mr. Farquhar's marriage, in the year 1703, his 
 manner of life had been rather dissipated. The lady, 
 therefore, who afterwards became his wife, having 
 fallen violently in love with him, and judging that a 
 gentleman of his humour w^ould not be easily dravv'n 
 into the trammels of matrimony, contrived to have it 
 given out, that she was possessed of a large fortune, 
 and finding means afterwards to let Air. Farquhar 
 know her attachment towards him, interest and van- 
 ity got the better of his passion for hberty, and the 
 lady and he were united in the bands of hymerh. 
 But how great was his disappointment, when he found 
 all his prospects overclouded so early in life, (for he 
 was then only in his 24th year) by. a marriage from 
 which he had nothing to expect, but a rapid increase 
 of family, and an enlargement of ex pence in con- 
 tJequence of it, far beyond what his income would 
 support. Yet to his honour be it told, that, though 
 he found himself thus deceived in a most essential 
 particular, he never was known to upbraid hrs wife 
 with it, but on the contrary, behaved to her with all 
 the tenderness and delicacy of the most indulgent 
 husband. Mrs. Farquhar, however, did not very 
 long enjoy the happiness she h?d purchased by this 
 stratagem ^ for the circumstances, which attended 
 this union, were, very probably, the means of shorten- 
 ing her husband's life. For, finding himself conside- 
 rably involved in debt, in consequence of their in- 
 creasing family, he was induced to make application 
 to a certain nobh courtier, who had formerly given 
 
328 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 him many professions of friendship. This pretended 
 patron repeated his former declarations; but, express- 
 ing much concern, that he had nothing immediately 
 in his power, advised him to convert his commission 
 into the money he wanted, and .pledged his honor, 
 that he would, in a short time, procure him another. 
 Farquhar, who could not bear the thoughts of his' 
 wife and family being in distress, followed his advice, 
 but to his great mortification, and disappointment, 
 found, on a renewal of his application to this inhu- 
 man nobleman, that he had either entirely forgotten, 
 or had never intended to perform the promise he| 
 had made him. This distracting frustration of all his^ 
 hopes, fixed itself so strongly on our author's mind, 
 that it brought on him a sure, though not a very sud- 
 den declension of nature, which carried him off the 
 stage of life, in 1707, before he had arrived at the 
 30th year of his age. His comedies are so diverting, 
 and the characters so natural, that they continue even 
 to the present day, to be represented to full houses, 
 both in Europe and America. 
 
 FAUGERES, (Margaretta V.) a lady of dis- 
 tinguished literary accomplishments, was the daugh- 
 ter of John L, Bleecker, Esq. of New-Rochelle, of the 
 State of New-York, and the celebrated Ann Eliza 
 Bleecker, of whose life we have given an account in 
 the preceding part of this work. She was born about 
 the year 177], and spent the first years of her life, with 
 her parents at the beautiful little village of Tomhanick, 
 about 1 8 miles above Albany. In this delightful retire- 
 ment, Mrs. Bleecker, who was a fond and prudent 
 mother, devoted a great part of her time, to the truly 
 rational amusement of instructing her daughters, and, 
 in the rapid progress, which she saw them making in 
 useful learning, was, undoubtedly, re-paid with more 
 solid satisfaction than those mothers can possibly ex- 
 pect, who, leaving their infant-offspring to the gui- 
 
DIOCTIKARV» §29 
 
 dtince of others, place their chief happiness in com- 
 pany and in the gay rounds of fashionable amuse- 
 ment. 
 
 Upon the evacuation of New-York, by the British, 
 in 1783, her father removed with his family to the city, 
 where he soon after had the misfortune to lose his ami- 
 able spouse. To Margaretta, who was now fast ad- 
 vancing to that period of life, when the counsels of 
 a prudent mother are to^ajQung lady, of the utmost 
 importance, the loss was irreparable. She, however, 
 had greatly profited by the instructions of this amia- 
 ble parent, and still more by her bright example, 
 which she carefully set before her, as the object of 
 ;her steadfast imitation. But above ail, she had even 
 'at this early period, imbibed from her, those senti- 
 ments of religion, which, amidst the numerous ills of 
 life, through which she afterwards struggled, afforded 
 her not only consolation, but also sufficient fortitude 
 to perform her part with dignity. 
 
 Her father, Mr. Bleecker, was in affluent circum- 
 stances and highly respected as a gentleman of pro- 
 bity and understanding; and Margaretta, who, in an 
 eminent degree, possessed every mental and personal 
 accomplishment, enjoyed that share in his paternal 
 affection, to which her prudent and dutiful behaviour 
 so well entitled her. PoHte, easy and engaging in 
 her manners ; happy in the sweetness and equanimity 
 of her temper ; lively, engaging and witty in conver- 
 sation i and uniformly diffusing amongst all around 
 her, that cheerfulness and serenity of mind, for which 
 she herself was so remarkably distinguished, it is by 
 no means surprising, that, as she grew up to matu- 
 rity, she had many admirers, amongst whom there 
 WTre, no doubt, some, whose conduct and connec- 
 tions in life would have jnstihed, in the opinion of 
 her father, their pretensions to the hand of his ac- 
 complished daughter. It was however her mifortune 
 to choose for herself, and from that moment she be- 
 came the daughter of adversitv. She had placed her 
 Vol. il. No. 14, T^2 
 
S^O NEW BIOGRAPHICAL j^ 
 
 m 
 
 affections on a young gentleman, who was far from 
 meeting with the approbation ot her friends, and to 
 him, notwithstanding the most earnest remonstrance of 
 her father (her only fault) she was in the year 1792, 
 united in the bands of matrimony. The person to 
 whom we allude, was the late Mr. Peter Faugeres, a 
 physician in New- York, who was, indeed, possessed 
 of considerable external accomplishments, had a gen- 
 teel education and talents by no means despicablel 
 But he had, in his early years, inured himself to ha< 
 bits of dissipation, in which, notwithstanding his un« 
 ion W'ith this invaluable woman, he still persevered^ 
 by which means, he, in a short time, involved her' 
 as well as himself, in extreme penury and distress. 
 
 As v.'e wish not to wound the feelings of the rela- 
 tives of this imprudent youth, we shall touch as light- 
 ly as possible, upon his demerits. This much how* 
 ever, wq cannot omit. In the course of a very fe^ 
 years the ample fortune, which he received with his' 
 wife, was totally spent, so that in the summer of 1796; 
 we have seen her, whose birth, talents, and nume-i 
 rous accomplishments seemed to promise her the en«i 
 joyment not only of all the comforts, but even luxu-J 
 ries of life, glad to procure a residence in a small gar^ 
 ret room', where with the author of her woes and om 
 child, she continued for several weeks. In this dij 
 ' tressing situation, however, she still maintained the 
 cheerfulness of her disposition, not a murmur nor 
 even a single expression of discontent escaping from 
 her lips. 
 
 Although in consequence of the match being ex- 
 tremely disagreeable to her father, she had become 
 a voluntary exile from his house, yet w^e are told, 
 that the arm^ of his affectionate solicitude was fre- 
 quently exerted to shield her from calamity, and to 
 avert the piercing blasts of adversity. Misfortunes, 
 ifcwever, pressed heavily upon her. Evils followed 
 each other In rapid succession, and, as if som.ething 
 was yet wanting to fill up the cup of her afiiictions, 
 
DICTIONARY. 531 
 
 she, in 1795, lost this only friend, this kind and af- 
 fectionate father. From that period, her situation, 
 bad as it was, became stili worse. Poverty stared 
 her constantly in the face, and she, who seemed born 
 to opulence, and whose heart was benevolence itself, 
 has frequently been reduced to considerable difficul- 
 ty, in procuring a scanty subsistence. And here it 
 may be asked, had she no friends, no relations, who, 
 by th^ir kind interference, could have mitigated her 
 sufferings, and at least, removed far from her door the 
 ills of pinching poverty ? It ought to be recollected, 
 however, that, amongst* the various misfortunes, to 
 which those ladies are liable, whose hard fate it is, to 
 b^ joined to dissolute and extravagant husbands, this 
 is one of the greatest, viz. that they are supposed to 
 be beyond the power of human assistance, and there- 
 fore, permitted to struggle without help, through a 
 labyrinth of perplexity and woe. In such cases, 
 friends generally keep at a distance, and have an 
 apology in readiness for their supposed indifference, in 
 which, it must be confessed, there is, at least, a great 
 deal of plausibility. " With pleasure," say they " would 
 we contribute to the relief of this worthy and unfor- 
 tunate woman and her helpless infants ; but we are 
 persuaded, that what we sliould bestow, would ne- 
 ver be appropriated to the purpose for which we de- 
 signed it. Her debauched husband would squander 
 away in dissipation, what we meant for the comfort 
 of his suffering family, and coming hom.e in a state 
 of intoxication, of which we should even be guilty 
 of having supplied him with the means, he would, 
 by the violent and boisterous sallies of his temper, 
 add to the sufferings of his already too unhappy 
 spouse, and thus greatly aggravate those ills, which 
 we wished to alleviate. Y/e would willingly assist 
 her, but, alas ! it is not in our power." Thus fared 
 it with the amiable, but ill fated Mrs. Faugeres 5 
 nnd though from the splendid prcspects, which were 
 :t before her in early life, her case might |pe consi- 
 
S32 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 dered as peculiarly calamitous, yet it is much to be 
 regretted, that there are many other highly deserving 
 and accomplished women, who from a similar cause, 
 are placed in circumstances but little different. 
 
 From the unhappy fate of this accomplished lady, 
 a few reflections naturally present themselves to outf 
 mind, which we beg leave to press with great earnest-" 
 ness to the consideration of our unmarried readers of 
 the fair sex. The choice of a companion for lifp is an 
 object of the utmost importance, as upon that cir- 
 cumstance solely depends your future happiness oi 
 misery. Love is blind, and you may too often fix 
 your affection upon an object by no means worthy of 
 your regard. He may have many faults, none oi 
 which may be perceptible to you : but to others, who 
 are not under the influence of the same passion, they 
 may be apparent as noon-day. You have no doubt 
 friends, who, you are persuaded, have your interest 
 at heart, and whose opinion has frequently had con* 
 siderabie weight with you, in affairs oi lesser moment; 
 Seriously consult with them on this point, on which 
 more than any other, depends your future peace, tran- 
 quility and happiness, and before you decide finally, 
 weigh well in your own minds, whatever objections 
 they may start against your favourite views, always 
 remembering, that if you make a wrong choice, re- 
 pentance will be unavailing, when instead of the ca- 
 resses and endearments of a loving and affectionate 
 husband, you are subjected to the brutal abuse of a 
 sottish and unprincipled debauchee, who will spurn 
 at your love and view the bitter anguish of your 
 heart with the utmost indifference, and when from the 
 consciousness of having acted imprudently, you will 
 .even be ashamed to complain. For our part, we can 
 think of no possible case more truly deplorable than 
 that of an amiable woman placed in such a situation ; 
 and though the extent of human foresight be so lin> 
 ited, that the most wary and circumspect may be 
 ^ome times disappointed in their calculations of fu^ 
 
DICTIONARY. 333 
 
 ture happiness ; yet we are persuaded, that if, in the 
 forming of matrimonial connections, young ladies 
 could be prevailed on to listen with more attention 
 to the counsels of their elder and more experienced 
 friends, many of those matches would be avoided, 
 which entail so great misery on the most lovely part 
 of the creation. 
 
 We shall add one more observation, before we 
 close our remarks upon this subject. It is a trite say- 
 ing, that '"' A reformed libertine, will make the best 
 husband.'* It will indeed be readily granted, that 
 when a libertine has cpompletely abandoned his vices, 
 he then ceases to be wicked; his conduct will, from 
 henceforth, be marked with propriety, and a deep 
 regret for his past fpllies will render him exceeding- 
 ly careful to treat every one, but especially his 
 more immediate connections, with delicacy and res- 
 pect. He, in that case, is no longer a libertine and 
 may be equally deserving of lov-e as the more happy 
 youth, who has never deviated from the strict rules of 
 morality. A serpent may be taken into our bosom 
 without injury; but it must first be deprived of its 
 sting. A libertine may, in like manner, be transform- 
 ed into an excellent member of society; but before 
 this take place, it is necessary that he should relinquish 
 his follies. If a libertine be really disposed to make 
 the young lady, to whom he pays his addresses, happy 
 through lift:, let him as a test of his sincerity, first af- 
 ford satisfactory proofs of his thorough reformation, and 
 then hope for the approbation of the fair. Let this 
 reformation, if possible, precede matrimony and not 
 follow it ; for it is a melancholy truth, v/hich has, no 
 doubt, been observed by most people, that it requires 
 a fortitude of which very few are possessed to relin- 
 quish habits of excess and dissipation, when they 
 have once gained strength, by frequent repetition, in 
 early life. 
 
 V/e trust, v/e shall be pardoned for this digression, 
 'into which v/e have been led almoiit imperceptibly^ 
 
I 
 
 C>34f NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 by the best motives ; and now return to the subject 
 of the present memoir. At what period Mrs. Fau- 
 geres first favoured the public with any of her poet- 
 ical effusions, we do not exactly know ; but from a 
 number of her original letters now in our possession, 
 she appears to have been no unsuccessful votary of 
 the muses several years before her unhappy marriage; 
 and, notwithstanding the sad reverse of fortune, which 
 she afterwards experienced, her talents became known 
 and shone with resplendent lustre. For the last 7 or 
 8 years of her life, many of her productions occasion- 
 ally embellished the New- York Ma£:azine and the 
 Museum. These were the theme of universal admi- 
 ration, and from those who were the best judges of 
 literary merit, attracted unbounded applause. In 
 1795 or 1796, she published the tragedy of "Belisa- 
 rlus." This dramatic effort was perused with much 
 satisfaction, by the admirers of that species of writing, 
 and as it pourtrayed, in the most Hvely colours, the 
 strange vicissitudes of fortune, v/hich history has in- 
 formed us, the hero of the piece experienced, it could 
 not fail of being extremely interesting. It would 
 have been exhibited on the stage, but, as it was first 
 shewn to the m.anagers at an advanced period of the 
 theatrical campaign, it was impossible to get the ne- 
 cessary scenery ready. In due time, for its representa- 
 tion that season ; and as various unexpected circum- 
 stances occurred afterwards, it is probable that a se- 
 cond application was never made for that purpose. It 
 was, however, the opinion of those who are well skill- 
 ed in these matters, that the tragedy vt'ould have been 
 received with unbounded applause, and this circum.- 
 stance was a remarkable proof of the vigour and ex- 
 tent of her genius, as it was well known to her friends 
 that she had never been in the inside of a theatre. 
 
 In the fatal autumn of 1798, her husband was one 
 of the many hundreds, who fell victims to the rava- 
 ges of devouring pestilence. Soon after his death, 
 his father took their two infant children under his 
 
DICTIONARY. 355 
 
 own care, and Mrs. Faugeres, vvho wished to employ 
 her talents in such a manner as might be most bene- 
 ficial to the public, engaged as an assistant in a young 
 lady's academy in New-Brunswick. From the va- 
 riety and extent of her talents, as well as the remark- 
 able sweetness of her temper, it was impossible that 
 any person could have been found better qualified for 
 such an undertaking. The young ladies, as might na- 
 turally be expected, were remarkably fond of their 
 accomplished tutoress, and their progress in good mo- 
 rals and elegant literature exceeded the most sanguine 
 expectations of their friends, to all of whom the me- 
 mory of Mrs. Faugeres will be ever dear. After 
 continuing in that place for upwards of a year, where 
 she possesed, in a high degree, the esteem and appro- 
 bation of the most respectable part of the communi- 
 ty, she was induced to undertake the education of 
 some gentlemen's children in Brooklyn, in order that 
 she might be more near to her friends in New- York. 
 She was soon, however, obliged to resign her delight- 
 ful task. Her constitution was under a rapid decline 
 and her strength would enable her to proceed no far- 
 ther. In this enfeebled condition, she was received 
 with open arms by a friend in New- York, who used 
 €very exertion in her power to promote her recovery; 
 but to rro purpose. Her disease was rapid in its pro- 
 gress, and her hopes of relief v/ere placed beyond 
 the grave. She on this, as well as on every other oc- 
 casion, manifested an entire resignation to the Divine 
 •will, and supported herself with becoming calmness 
 and fortitude. With serenity she hailed the closing 
 scene, and, animated by the consoling truths of reli- 
 gion, composedly yielded her spirit into the arms ofc 
 its omniscient creator, January 9th, 1801, aged 29 
 years. 
 
 Besides those of her productions, which we have 
 already mentioned, Mrs. Faugeres left a vast number 
 of MSS. which were never published. A large pro- 
 portion of the most valuable of these are in our hands 
 
530 KEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 and it shall be our care to collect the remainder as 
 speedily as possible, and to arrange them for the press -^^ 
 being fuliy persuaded that we can present no ofFer-f 
 ing more acceptable to the lovers of genius than the* 
 complete works oi this justly celebrated AmericarxJ 
 poetess. 
 
 FAUSTUS OR FUST, (John) a citizen of Ment^^ 
 in Germany, and one of the first inventors of printing. 
 This art is said to have been first attempted, between 
 the years 1440 and 1450, by John Faustus, John 
 Meydenbuch, and John Genesteisch surnamed Gut- 
 temberg ; but it was a controverted t]uestion, among 
 learned antiquarians, to which of these three, the ho- 
 nour qf this noble invention should be attributed ; till 
 happily the original written instrument was found, 
 by which it appears that the latter only associated the 
 others with him, on account of their purses, his owri^ 
 being insufficient to defrav the great expence attend- 
 ing the cutting of wooden blocks, which, after they 
 were once printed from, became entirely useless for 
 any other work. This instrument, which is dated 
 'i November 6th 1445, is decisive in favour of John of 
 yi Guttemberg ; but the honour of single types made of 
 ^'metal, is ascribed to Faustus, wherein he received 
 great assistance from his son-in-law, Peter. Schoeffer, 
 i who devised the puncheons, mattrices and rnoulds fqr 
 casting them, on which account he was taken inta, 
 partnership w^ith his father-in-law, who in 1455, had j 
 a quarrel and separated from Guttemberg. 
 
 The first printed book upon record, is "the Book or 
 
 Psalms," but what most signalized Faustus and his art | 
 
 iwas the first printed bibles, which having finished 
 
 Jin 1462, he carried a considerable number of copies 
 
 «o Paris for sale. He at first sold his copies, as high 
 
 as 500 or 600 crowns, the price usually demanded by 
 
 the scribes. He afterwards lowered his price to 60 
 
 >»crovvns, which created universal astonisment ; but 
 
 ■M. 
 
^iCTtONARY. 357 
 
 when he produced copies, as fast as they were want- 
 ed, and lowered his demand to 30 crowns, all Paris 
 was in agitation. The uniformity of every letter in so 
 many copies increased the wonder ; informations 
 were lodged against him to the police as a magician $ 
 his lodgings were accordingly searched, and a great 
 number of copies seized; the red ink, with which they 
 were embellished, was said to be his blood; it was 
 seriously adjudged, that he was in league with the 
 devil, and if he had not explained the principles of 
 his art, he would most probably have shared the fate 
 of those, whom ignorant and superstitious judges, in 
 those days, condemned for witch-crafr. To this cir- 
 cumstance, we are indebted for the tradition of" the 
 devil and Dr. Faustus," which has even been handed 
 down to the present day. In 1466, he printed a 
 quarto edition of Tully's offices, and, in the year fol- 
 lowing, another edition of the same work, and this is 
 the last account of the life of Faustus. 
 
 FELTON, (John) was a lieutenant in the British 
 ftavy, and an assassin, who in the reign of Charles I. 
 stabbed the Duke of Buckingham, for which crime 
 he suffered death. Though Buckingham was a 
 worthless character, this article is not inserted to de- 
 fend unwarrantable actions ; but to record a memora- 
 ble reply, which the murderer made to archbishop 
 Laud, on his examination before the council. " If 
 you will not confess," said the prelate, " you shall be 
 put to the rack." " If that is to be the case," replied 
 Felton, " I know not whom in my agonies I may ac- 
 cuse. God forbid I should die with a falsehood in 
 my mouth ; but, on such an occasion, I might as just- 
 ly and as probably, for the sake of shortening my pu- 
 nishment, accuse a ford at this board, of being my ac- 
 complice, as any other person." 
 
 This is a short, but unanswerable argument against 
 telying upon evidence procured by the force of tor- 
 
 Vol. JI. No, 14. U2 
 
SS8 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 ture. For such is human nature, so weak the nerves of 
 some, so versatile the principles of others, that there is 
 scarce a proposition, however contradictory to fact and; 
 reason, w hich might not in this manner, be confirmed. 
 Suffering death proves the sincerity of the person, but 
 not the truth of the fact or doctrine for which he dies.j 
 Felton's answer has been quoted by an eminent judge 'I 
 against compulsive testimony ; indeed, it may teach 
 us to regard what are called king's (State) evidence! 
 with suspicion, that they come to court for the expresr! 
 purpose of removing a halter from their own necks to 
 place on it that of another man. The words of Felton 
 might be an artful attempt to avert a horrid punish- 
 ment, at which nature recoils, by alarming the per- 
 sons who examined him, for theij own safety. 
 
 FENELON, (Francis De Salignac De La 
 Motte) archbishop of Cambray, and author ofTe- 
 Jemachus, was of an ancient and illustrious family, 
 and born in the ci-devant province of Perigord, Au- 
 gust 6th 1651. At the age of twenty-four, he enter- 
 ed into holy orders, and three years after, was chosen 
 by the archbishop of Paris, to be superior to the new 
 convert w^omen in that city. In 1686, which was 
 the year after the edict of Nantz was revoked, the 
 king named him to be at the head of those mission-' 
 aries, who were sent along the coast of Saintoigne 
 and the Pais de Aunix, to convert the protestants. 
 
 Having finished his mission, he returned to Pari^, 
 where he lived two years, entirely taken up in irn 
 structing the new female converts ; and that he might 
 forward this good work by writing, as well as lec- 
 tures, he published in 1688, a little treatise, entitled 
 " Education de Filles,'* which the author of the 
 " Bibliotheque Universelle,'* calls the best and most 
 useful book, written upon the subject, in the French- 
 language. In 1688, he published a work " Concern- 
 ing the Functions of the Pastors of the Church," writtea 
 
DICTIONARY. ' 339 
 
 chiefly with a view to shew, that the first promoters 
 of the reformation, had no regular call, and, therefore, 
 were not true pastors. In 1689, he was made tutor 
 to the Dukes of Burgundy and Anjou, and in 1693, 
 chosen member of the French academy. All the 
 time he lived at court, he preserved the disinterest- 
 edness of a hermit, and never asked any favour either 
 for himself or his friends. At last, however, without 
 solicitation on his part, the king gave him the 
 abbey of St. Vallery, and some months after, the arch- 
 bishopric of Cambray, to which he was consecrated 
 in 1695. 
 
 But soon after this preferment, a storm rose against 
 him, which obliged him to leave the court forever. It 
 was occasioned by his book entitled,'* An explication 
 of the maxims of the saints concerning the interior 
 life." This book was published in 1697, occasioned 
 by a certain lady, named madame Guyon, wlio pre- 
 tended to a very high and exalted devotion. She 
 explained it in some books, which she published, and 
 in particular, in a mystical exposition ot Solomon's 
 Song. In short, she was a downright quietist, and 
 Fenelon was supposed to favour her extravagant no- 
 tions. A controversy, on this occasion, was, for some 
 time carried on between him and M. Bossuet, bishop 
 of Meaux, which terminated in an appeal to the Pope, 
 who condemned the archbishop's book, bv a brief 
 dated March 12th 1699. He' submitted patiently 
 to the Po[)e's determination, and, retiring to his dio- 
 cese of Cambray, acquitted himself punctually in all 
 the duties of his station, and led a most exemplary 
 ]ife. 
 
 But the work, which has gained him the greatest 
 reputation and rendered his name immortal is his 
 " Adventures of Telemachus ;" the style of which is 
 natural; the fictions well contrived ; the moral sub- 
 lime, and the political maxims tending all to the hap» 
 piness of mankind. It was begun to be printed at 
 Paris, but there werehardJy two hundred. pages struck 
 
840 KEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 off, when the impression was stopped by the king's 
 command. Hence it is thought, that Fenelon*s here- 
 sy was in politics rather than in rehgion ; and, though 
 his disgrace was prior to this work, he had, while he 
 was tutor to the young princes, taught them the same 
 principles, which he has so beautifully asserted and 
 exemplified in Telemachus. 
 
 In 1713, he published another considerable work, 
 entitled " A Demonstration of the being of God 
 grounded on the Knowledge of Nature," which is ac«ji 
 icnowledgcd to be one of the best books in the FrendJI 
 ,, language. His " Dialogues sur I'Eloquence," though 
 composed in his youth, were not published, till after 
 his death in 1718. They contain many fine observa- 
 tions, expressed in an easy style. He died in January 
 1715, aged 63, and a collection of all his religious 
 works was afterwards printed at Rotterdam, under the 
 care of the Marquis de Fenelon, his grand nephew, 
 when ambassador to the states general. 
 
 Ferguson, (James) an extraordinary phaenome 
 lion of the self taught kind, particularly in mechauics 
 and astronomy, was born, near Keith, a little village 
 in Bamffshire, Scotland, in the year 1710. His parents, 
 though poor, were honest and religious, lived in repute 
 with all who knew them, and died with good char- 
 acters. 
 
 As his father had nothing to support a large family 
 but his daily labour, and the slender profits arising 
 from a few acres of land, which he rented, it was 
 not to be expected, that he could bestow much on 
 the education of his children ; yet they were not 
 neglected; for at his leisure hours, he taught them to 
 read and write. Our author, who, from his earliest 
 years, discovered an extraordinary genius, first learnt to 
 read, by over-hearing his father teach his elder brother, 
 and he had made this acquisition, before any one 
 suspected it. His father being most agreeably sur- 
 
 
DICTIONARY. 341 
 
 prised to find him reading by himself, gave him further 
 instruction, and also taught him to write, which, with 
 about three months, he afterwards spent at the grarft- 
 mar school of Keith, was all the educationfhe'evfer 
 received. i!ri.>rvi 
 
 His taste for mechanics first arose, from seeing his 
 father use a lever, at a time when he himself was only 
 between seven and eight years ot age. This led 
 him to a train of thinking, with respect to the use ot 
 the lever and other mechanical powers, and he was far 
 more successful in the investigation of those matters, 
 than could have been possibly expected, either from 
 his age or opportunities. As he had no instructor, nor 
 any help from books, every thing he learned, had all 
 the merit of an original discovery ; and such, with 
 infinite joy, he at first believed it to be. When, 
 however, he was afterwards undeceived in this respett, 
 he had the satisfaction to find, that the result of his 
 own investigations, so far as he had carried them, 
 agreed with the principles of mechanics as laid dov/n 
 by the best writers ; and, from that time, his inclina- 
 tion was still more excited to improve in that science. 
 
 But, as his father could not afford to maintain him, 
 while he was in pursuit only of these matters, and he 
 was rather too young and weak for hard labour, he 
 was sent out to a neighbour to keep sheep, in which 
 employment, he continued for some years, and during 
 that time first began to study the stars in the night. 
 In the day time, he amused himself by making models 
 of mills, spinning wheels and such other pieces of 
 machinery as he happened to see. 
 
 As soon as his age would permit, he went to work 
 as a labourer, v/ith a farmer in the neighbourhood, 
 named Glasham, whose goodness he acknowledges in 
 the modest and humble account of himself, which he 
 prefixed to his last publication. In the evenings, after 
 his day's work \vas over, he used to go out to the 
 fields, with a blanket about him, in order to contem- 
 plate the stars, and even at that time, he without any 
 
342 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 guide, made considerable progress, in the study of 
 astronomy. His kind master, observing these marks 
 of his ingenuity, procured him the countenance and 
 assistance of the Rev. Mr. Gilchrist minister of 
 Keith. By the reccommendation of this gentleman, 
 he was, with a view to his instruction, received into the 
 family of Thomas Grant Esq. whose butler Alex- 
 ander Cantley, (a very extraordinary person as describ- 
 ed by Ferguson) became his tutor, "He was," says 
 he," after describing Cantley's numerous accomplish 
 ments *' what is generally called self taught ; but J 
 think, he might w^ith much greater propriety have 
 been termed God TllmigJitij's scholar." 
 
 This person immediately began to teach him deci- 
 mal arithmetic and algebra, (for he had already learnt 
 vulgar arithmetic from books,) and after he had miade 
 sufficient progress in these, he proceeded to teach 
 him the elements of Geometry. To the inexpressi- 
 ble grief of Mr. Ferguson, however, Mr. Cantley left 
 Mr. Grant, just as he was entering on that branch of 
 science, nor could the good family prevail upon him 
 to continue there any longer, after the departure of his i 
 friend. He therefore, retired to his father's. 
 
 Mr. Cantley had made him a present of Gordon's 
 Geographical grammar, which he, at that time, highly; 
 valued, as it contained a tolerable description of the: 
 globes, and their uses, though it had no plates. From 
 this description, he, in about three weeks, constructed 
 a globe out of a piece of wood, on which, after he had 
 covered it with paper, he delineated a map of the 
 world ; he also made the meridian ring and horizon 
 of the same materials, and, after he had graduated 
 them, had the happiness to find, that by this globe^' 
 which was the first he had ever seen, he was able 
 to solve the problems. 
 
 But, as he was not likely to derive a subsistance 
 from this mode of employing his time, and knew his 
 father to be incapable of supporting him, he was un- 
 der the necessity of again seeking employment as a 
 
DICTIONARY. S4S 
 
 labourer. He engaged for one year with a miller, m 
 hopes that the business would be easy, and that he 
 would likewise have a good deal of leisure for study. 
 In both these respects, however, he was cruelly dis- 
 appointed; for his master being too fond of the tavern, 
 left the whole care of the mill to him, and almost 
 starved him for want of victuals. His next engage- 
 ment, was with a country physician, who allured him 
 into his ser\'ice, by a promise of instructing him in hfs 
 own profession. He was, however, so far from ful- 
 filling his promise, that he kept him constantly at very 
 hard labour, and never once shewed him one of his 
 books. After he had continued, for three months, in 
 this employment, he found himself so worn out by 
 excessive fatigue, that he was obliged to relinquish ?t 
 and betake himself to his father's, where he conti- 
 nued for many weeks, in a very debilitated state. 
 
 In order to amuse himself, whilst in this low con* 
 dition, he made a wooden clock, which kept time 
 very well. The bell, on which the hammer struck 
 the hours, was the neck of a broken bottle. As 
 soon as he had acquired sufficient strength to go 
 abroad, he carried his clock, globe, and some maps, 
 which he had drawn, to Sir James Dunbar, of 
 Durn, who had been represented to him as a gentle- 
 man of an inquisitive turn, and very benevolent dispo- 
 sition. Sir James received him with great kindness, 
 and employed him to clean his clocks, which, though 
 he had never attempted any thing of the kind before, 
 he performed to his entire satisfaction. He after- 
 wards picked up some money about the country, by 
 pursuing the same occupation, in the mean time, 
 making that gentleman's house his home. 
 
 During his residence at this hospitable mansion, 
 the sister of Sir James observing his ingenuity, asked 
 him to draw some patterns for needle-work, on aprons 
 and gowns. In this he succeeded extremely well, 
 and being frequently employed in the same manner, 
 by other ladies in the country, he began to consider 
 
344 KEW BIOGRAPHtCAt 
 
 himself as growing rich by the money he got for sue 
 drawings, out of which, he had the pleasure of occa^ \\ 
 sionally supplying the wants of his poor father. All 
 this while, however, he still continued his practice of 
 star-gazing in the nights, and taking the places of the 
 planets amongst the stars. 'M 
 
 Sir James's house was full of prints and pictures^^ 
 
 1.4 
 
 ^ 
 
 several of which Mr. Ferguson had copied with pen 
 and ink. Being observed in this employment by a re 
 lation of Sir James, that gentleman immediatelj 
 conceived the idea, that he might become a painter^ 
 and not only furnished him with pencils and Indian 
 ink, but also shewed him how to draw wnth them.i 
 He was also the first, who sat to him for a picture^* 
 and Mr. Ferguson informs us, that he found it much 
 more easy to draw from the life, than from any pic- 
 ture whatever, as nature was more striking than any 
 imitation of it. 
 
 By the help of Sir James and his friends, he wen 
 on making a rapid progress in knowledge, and waa 
 soon after sent to Edinburgh, where he resided two* 
 years in the house of Sir James's sister. There he 
 employed himself in painting portraits, and by that 
 means supported himself and family for several years/| 
 whilst he was pursuing more serious studies. 
 
 In 1739, he married, and in the year following, inJ 
 vented his Astronomical Rotula^ a machine for shew-^ 
 ing the new moons and eclipses, which acquired hint 
 the friendship of the celebrated Mr. MXaurin^ pro--^ 
 fessor of mathematics at Edinburgh. About the year 
 1744, he went to London, and soon made his wa/; 
 amongst such of the great, as were lovers of science; 
 and uncommon merit. In that city, he first publishedP 
 some curious astronomical tables and calculations ;f 
 and afterwards gave public lectures in experimental' 
 philosophy, which he repeated by subscription, irt 
 most of the principal towns in England, with the 
 highest marks of general approbation. A delineatiort I 
 ot the complex line of the Moon's motion recona- 
 
DIGTIONARY. S45 
 
 mended him to the Royal Society, of which he was 
 elected feilow, without paying for admission, an ho- 
 nour scarcely ever conferred on a native; and had a 
 small pension given him unsolicited, by the present 
 king, at his accession, who had heard his lectures, and 
 frequently sent for and conversed with him, on curi- 
 ous topics. He also received several pres^pts iVpni 
 his majesty. :,■*-% ;n rTT«^T*. 
 
 To what a degree of consideration, Mr. Ferguson^ 
 mountedv-by the strength of his natural genius alone^ 
 almost every one knows. He was universally con- 
 sidered as at the head of astronomy and mechanics, in 
 the British nation ; and he might justly be styled self- 
 taught, or rather, as he expressed himself with respect 
 to his friend Cantley, " heaven taught," for, in his 
 whole life, he had not above three months instruction 
 at school. He was a man of the clearest judgment 
 and the most unwearied application to study ; bene- 
 volent, meek, and innocent in his manners as a child ; 
 humble, courteous, and communicative ; instead of 
 pedantry, philosophy seemed to produce in him oaly 
 diffidence and urbanity — a love for mankind and for 
 his Maker. His whole life was an example of resig- 
 nation and Christian piety. ' He might be said to be 
 an enthusiast, in his love of God, if religion, founded 
 on such substantial and enlightened grounds as his^ 
 could be styled enthusiasm. He died Nov. 1 6th 1776. 
 
 The following is a list of his works : 1 . " Astronomy 
 explained upon Sir Isaac Newton's Principles, and 
 made easy to those, who have not studied Mathema- 
 tics." 2. " An easy Introduction to Astronomy." 3. 
 "Tables and Tracts relative to several Arts and Scien- 
 ces." 4. " An Introduction to Electricity." 5. "Lec- 
 tures on Select Subjects in Mechanics, Hydrostatics, 
 Pneumatics and Optics, with the use of the Globes, 
 Sic. 6. The Art of Drawing in Perspective." 7. "Select 
 Mechanical Exercises." to which is prefixed a short 
 account of the Author's life, written by himself 
 
 Vol. II. No. 14, X 
 
346 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 FIELDING, (Henry) a celebrated English writer, 
 son of Lieutenant General Fielding, was born, in So- 
 mersetshire, April 22d 1707. He had four sisters, of 
 whom Sarah is well known as writer of " The Adven- 
 tures of David Simple." On the death of his mother, 
 his father married again, by which second marriage, 
 Henry had six half-brothers. One of these John^ 
 succeeded our Henry in the commission of the peac« 
 for the county of Middlesex, was knighted as bein|_ 
 a very useful person in his situation, and died in 1781 
 
 Henry, after being instructed in the first principle} 
 of literature at home, was sent to finish his education 
 at Leyden ; but a failure in his remittances obligee 
 him to return in two years, when his propensitj 
 to gaiety and profusion drove him to commence wril 
 er for the stage, in 1727, at which time, he ha< 
 scarcely completed the twentieth year of his age] 
 His first attempt in the drama was a piece calle( 
 '' Love in several Masques," which met with a verj 
 favourable reception, as did likewise his second play,i 
 which came out in the following year and was entitled 
 **The Temple Beau." All his plays, and farces, to 
 the amount of eighteen were written before the year 
 1737, and were, in general, received with great apl 
 plause. He did not, however, meet with equal suo^ 
 cess in all his dramatic works, for he has even printed^, 
 in the title-page of one of his Farces, " as it was dam 
 edy at the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane." 
 
 While he was thus employed, he married a youn 
 lady with a fortune of nearly 7000 dollars, and, hii 
 mother dying, about the same time, an estate in Dor- 
 setshire of about 900 dollars per annum, came into his 
 possession. With this fortune, which, had it been 
 conducted with prudence and economy, might have 
 secured to him a state of independence for life, and 
 with the helps it might have derived from the pro- 
 ductions of a genius unincumbered with anxieties and! 
 perplexity, might have even afforded him an afflucDlj 
 incooie j with this fortune ai^d a wife, whom he wasj 
 
DICTIONARY. 347 
 
 fond of to distraction, and for whose sake he had ta- 
 ken up a resolution of bidding adieu to all the follies 
 and intemperances, to which he had addicted himself 
 in that short but very rapid career of a town life, 
 which he had run, he determined to retire to his 
 country seat, and there reside entirely. 
 
 But here, in spite of this prudent resolution, one fol- 
 ly only took place of another, and family pride now 
 brought on him all the inconveniences in one place, 
 which youthful dissipation and libertinism had done 
 in another. The income he possessed, though suf- 
 ficient for ease, and even some degree of elegance, 
 yet was in no degree adequate to the support of 
 either luxury or splendour. He incumbered himself 
 with a large retinue of servants ; and his natural 
 turn leading him to a fondness for the delights of so- 
 ciety and convivial mirth, he threw wide open the 
 gates of hospitality, and suffered his whole patrimo- 
 ny to be devoured up by hounds, horses, and enter- 
 tainments. In short, in less than three years, from 
 the mere passion of being esteemed a man of great 
 fortune, he reduced himself to the unpleasant situa- 
 tion of having no fortune at all; and, through an am- 
 bition of maiotaining an open house for the reception 
 of every one else, he soon found himself without a ha- 
 bitation, which he could rail his own. Not discou- 
 raged, however, he determined to exert his best abi- 
 lities, betook himself closely to the study of law, and, 
 after the customary time of probation, at the Temple, 
 was called to the bar, and made no inconsiderable 
 figure in Westminster Hall. 
 
 To the practice of the Law, Mr. Fielding now ap- 
 plied himself with great assiduity, so long as his health 
 permitted him ^ and it is probable, he would have 
 risen to a considerable degree of eminence in it, had 
 not the intemperances of the early parts of his life 
 put a check, by their consequences, to the progress 
 of his success. Though but a young man, he began 
 now to be molested with such violent attacks from 
 
$48 KEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 the gout, as rendered it impossible for him to be so 
 coiistant at the bar, as the laboriousness of his pro- 
 fession required ; and he was obliged to have recourse 
 to many occasional applications of his pen, for im« 
 mediate support. With this view, he published a 
 large number of fugitive, political tracts, of which, 
 as they had only a reference to the incidents then ac-. 
 tually passing on the great political scene, it would ht 
 of no use, for us to transmit the names. "An Epis« 
 tie to the Right Honorable Sir Robert AValpole'* 
 "written in 1750, shews at once our author*s acquaint-^ 
 ance with distress, and the firmness of mind, with 
 "which he supported it. Such other works as were 
 produced before his genius was come to its full growth," 
 were "An Essay on Conversation.'* "An Essay on 
 the Knowledge and Characters of Men,'* " A Journey 
 from this World to the next." " The History of Jona* 
 than Vv^yld the Great, &;c." But his genius was seen in 
 full and vigorous exertion ; first in " Joseph Andrews,"^ 
 and most completely in his "Tom Jones,** which are 
 too well known, and too justly admired, to leave us 
 any room for expatiating on their merits. ' 
 
 Soon after the publication of "Joseph Andrews," 
 his last comedy was exhibited on the stage, entitled 
 *' The Wedding Day," which was attended, but with 
 an indifferent share of sucress. He engaged in two 
 periodical papers successively, with the laudable and 
 spirited design of rendering service to his country. 
 The first of these was called " The True Patriot," 
 which was set on foot, during the rebellion of 1745^ 
 Precarious, however, as this means of subsistence un- 
 avoidably must be, it was scarcely possible, he should 
 be enabled by it to repair his shattered fortune. He, 
 therelcie, at last accepted of the office of an acting 
 magistrate in the commission of the peace for the 
 county of Middlesex, in which station he continued, 
 till near the time of his death ; an office, however, 
 which seldom fails of being hateful to the populace, 
 ^nd of course liable to many infamous and unjust im- 
 
DICTIOKARY. 349 
 
 putations, particularly that of venality, a charge, which 
 the ill natured world, not unacquainted with Mr. 
 Fielding's, want of economy and passion forexpence, 
 were too ready to cast upon him. His histories of 
 "Tom Jones," and "Amelia" were entirely planned 
 and executed, whilst he was distracted by a multipli- 
 city of avocations which surrounded him as a public 
 magistrate; and his constitution greatly impaired and 
 enfeebled, by more severe attacks of the gout than he 
 had felt before. At length, his whole frame was so 
 entirely shattered by continual inroads of complicated 
 disorders, and the incessant fatigue of the business of 
 his office, that, by the advice of his physicians, he set 
 out for Lisbon. Even in this distressful condition, his 
 imagination still continued making the strongest ef*. 
 forts to display itself; and the last gleam of his wit 
 and humour faintly sparkled in the "Journal" he left 
 behind him of his "Voyage" to that place ; which was 
 published in London, in 1755. 
 
 In about two m.onths after his arrival at Lisbon, 
 he died in 1754, in his 48th year. His works have been 
 published in several sizes, with "An Essay on the Life 
 and Geniusof the Author," by Arthur Murphy, Esq, 
 
 FLAVEL, (John) an eminent non-conformist 
 Divine, was educated at University College, in Ox- 
 ford, England, and became minister at Deptford, and 
 afterwards at Dartmouth in Devonshire, where he re- 
 sided the greatest part of his life, and was greatly ad- 
 mired for his preaching. Though he was generally 
 respected at Dartmouth, yet, in 1685, several of the al- 
 dermen of that place, attended by the rabble, carried 
 about a ridiculous effigy of him, to which were affix- 
 ed, the Bill of Exclusion and the Covenant. Upon 
 this occasioujhe thought it prudent to withdraw from 
 the town ; not knowing what treatment he might 
 meet with from a riotous mob, headed by magistrates, 
 who were themselves amongst the lowest and most 
 
3aO NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 worthless of mankind. Part of his *' Diary" published 
 after his death, must give the reader a high idea of 
 his piety. He died in 1691, aged 61 ; and after 
 his death, his works, which consisted of many pieces 
 of practical divinity, were printed in two volumes, 
 folio. Among these, the most famous are his "Na-'; 
 vigation Spiritualized, or a New Compass for Seamen, 
 consisting of 32 points of pleasant observations ancj. 
 serious reflections," of which, there have been seveii 
 ral editions, in 8vo. and his *' Husbandry Spiritual-* 
 ized &;c. with occasional meditations upon beasts, 
 birds, trees, flowers, rivers and several other objects;'* 
 of which there have, likewise, been several editions, 
 in 8vo. 
 
 FLETCHER, (Andrew) ofSalton, a celebrated 
 Scots patriot and political writer, was descended 
 fi'om an ancient family, who trace their origin to on^ 
 of the follovvxrs of William the Conqueror. He wai| 
 the son of Sir Robert Fletcher, and born in the year 
 1650. 
 
 The tuition of our author was committed hy his fa- 
 ther, on his death-bed to Mr. (afterwards Bishop) 
 Burnet, then his parish minister, in whose care he re- 
 ceived a pious, learned and polite education. En- 
 dowed with uncommiOn genius, and possessed of vir- 
 tues and abilities peculiarly suited to the times 
 which he lived, Mr. Fletcher quickly shone forth th 
 ornament of his country, and the champion of its free- 
 dom. Having in the course of his classical studie.s 
 and historical reading, been impressed vi^ith an enthu- 
 siastic admiration both of ancient and modern repub- 
 lics, he had early contracted an ardent love of liberty! 
 and an aversion to arbitrary rule. Hence his spirit, 
 the more readily took alarm at certain m.casures in the 
 reign of Charles II. Being representative for the shire 
 of Lothian, to that parliam.ent, where the Duke of 
 York was commissioner, he openly opposed the de- 
 
 4 
 
DICTIONARY. 351 
 
 signs of that prince against the liberties of Scotland. 
 For this reason, he became peculiarly obnoxious to the 
 Duke; and was at length obliged to flee to Holland, 
 to avoid the fatal consequences of prosecutions, which, 
 on various pretences, were commenced against him. 
 Being summoned before the privy council and not 
 appearing, he v/as declared traitor and his estate con- 
 fiscated. 
 
 In Holland, he and Mr. Baillie, were the only per- 
 sons whom the earl of Argyle consulted, concerning 
 the designs, which were then in agitation. In TTSl, 
 they came over to England, in order to concert mat- 
 ters with thefr party in that country ; and w^ere the 
 only two, who were intrusted so far as to be admitted 
 to the secrets of Lord RusseFs council of six. Air. 
 Fletcher managed his part of the negociation, with 
 so much address, that administration could find no 
 pretext for siezing him ; nor could they fix upon him 
 those articles, on account of which Mr. Baillie was 
 condemned ; to whose honour, let it be remembered, 
 that, although offered a pardon, on condition of ac- 
 cusing his friend, he persisted in rejecting the proposal 
 with indignation. 
 
 Mr. Fletcher having joined the Duke of Monmouth 
 upon his landing, received a principal command un- 
 der him. But the Duke was deprived of his services, 
 on the following occasion, as related by Sir John Dal- 
 rymple. " Being sent upon an expedition, and not 
 esteeming ti.ues of danger to be times of ceremony, 
 he had seized for his own riding, the horse of the 
 Mayor of Lynne, which stood ready equipped for the 
 use of his master. The Mayor, hearing this, ran in a 
 passion to Fletcher, gave him opprobrious language, 
 shook his cane, and attempted to strike. Fletcher, 
 though rigid in the duties of morality, yet, having 
 been accustomed to foreign services, both by sea and 
 land, in w^hich he had a(!:quired high ideas of the 
 honour of a soldier and a gentleman, and of the af- 
 front of a cane, pulled out his pistol and shot him 
 
352 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 dead on the spot. The action was unpopular. A 
 clamour was raised against it amongst the people of 
 the country ; in a body they waited upon the Duke ]{ 
 with their complaints ; and he was forced to de- 
 sire the only soldier, and almost the only man of parts 
 in his army, to abandon him. " With Fletcher, all 
 Monmouth's chance in war left him." Bat in a ma-\ 
 nuscript memoir belonging to the family, v/e have the; 
 following notice, concerning Mr. Fletcher's connec-^ 
 tion with Monmouth, in which his separation fromj 
 that prince is very difterently accounted for. "Tg^ 
 Lord Marischal, Mr. Fletcher explained the mo-^ 
 tives, which induced him first to join and afterwards 
 abandon the Duke of Monmouth. The former he 
 ascribed to the Duke's manifesto in Scotland, relating 
 to religion, and in England to liberty. For the lat- 
 ter, he accounted by the disgust produced in his own 
 mind, and that of his associates, when the Duke de- 
 clared himself King, and broke faith with all, who 
 embarked with him on his principles. He complain-' 
 ed heavily of the account commonly given of the 
 death of the Mayor of Lynne, and mentioned to lord 
 Marischal, in proof of the contrary, that he did not 
 leave the Duke till he came to Taunton, where he was 
 proclaimed King, several weeks after the death of 
 that gentleman.** 
 
 Seeing all the efforts of himself and his friends in 
 favour of liberty frustrated, he endeavoured to secure 
 his own personal freedom by taking his passage in the 
 first ship bound to a foreign country. It was his 
 misfortune to land in Spain, where he was immedi- 
 ately arrested, cast into prison, and guarded by three 
 diflPerent bands of soldiers, till a vessel should be pre- 
 pared to carry him in chains, as a victim to the court 
 of London. But on the morning before the ship could 
 sail, whilst he looked pensive through the bars, which 
 secured the window of his room, he was hailed by a 
 venerable personage, who made signs to speak with 
 him. The prison-doors he found open s and, whilst his 
 
DICTIONARY* S53 
 
 friendly conductor waved to him to follow him, be 
 passed through three different guards of soldiers, all 
 fast asleep. Without being permitted to offer his 
 thanks to his deliverer, he found himself obliged to 
 prosecute with all speed the journey, in which he 
 was directed by a person, concerning whom he could 
 never collect any information ; and in disguise, he 
 procceeded in safety, through Spain. ^ He felt a pe- 
 'culiar pleasure in relating to his friends, instances of 
 the care of Providence, which he had experienced 
 during his exile j and entertained them often with 
 narratives of this kind, which he always mingled with 
 religious reflections. 
 
 During his exile, he maintained a frequent and ex- 
 tensive correspondence with the friends of liberty at 
 home; and he partly employed him.self in making a 
 curious collection of books, which compose the best 
 private library in Scotland. But his genius also 
 prompted him to engage In more active employ- 
 ments. He repaired to Hungary, and served several 
 campaigns, as a volunteer, under the Duke of Lor- 
 rain, with great reputation. At length, understand- 
 ing that the great design then progressing in Holland, 
 and upon the issue of which he considered the liber- 
 ties of Britain to be suspended, had attained a consi^ 
 durable degree of maturity, he hastened thither ; 
 where his counsels and address were of eminent 
 service. He came over with King William ; and in 
 zeal, activity, penetration and practical skill, proved 
 inferior to none of the leaders in the revolution. 
 
 Such, however, was his magnaminity, that, from a 
 survey of King William's papers it appears, that, 
 while others laboured to turn this grand event to the 
 emolument of themselves and the aggrandizement of 
 their families, Mr. Fletcher asked nothing. His estate 
 had been forfeited, and his house abandoned to milita- 
 ry discretion; his fortune was greatly shattered, and 
 his family reduced to circumstances of distress. Noth- 
 ing was given him in recompence for all his suffer- 
 
 Vol. II. Nc. 14. Y2 
 
S54 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 1 
 
 ipgs. On the contrary, be, together with the Duke of 
 Hamilton, was distinguished by marks of royal and 
 ministerial dislike. Still, whatever private resentmen 
 he might entertain, it appeared, that his ruling prin 
 ciple was the good of his country; and that to thi 
 grand object of his heart, he was willing to sacrifice 
 all personal considerations. For when, in 1692, th« 
 abdicated king^meditated an invasion, Mr. Fletche 
 addressed a letter to the Duke of Hamilton, in whic 
 every argument is employed with skill and energy 
 engage his grace to forget his injuries, and, in th 
 present crisis, to employ the extensive influence an 
 authority he then possessed in the cause of freedor 
 and of his country. This letter produced the desire 
 effect, and the duke returned to his duty, from whicli 
 in part, he had begun to deviate. 
 
 To follow our author through all the mazes of h 
 political life, subsequent to the revolution, far exceed 
 our limits. One or two circumstances more shal 
 therefore, suffice. Being elected a member for th 
 parliament, 1683, he shewed an uniform zeal for th 
 interest of his country. The thought of England's dc 
 mineering over Scotland, was what his generous soii 
 could not endure. The indignities and oppression 
 •which Scotland lay under, galled him to the heart ; s 
 that in his learned" and elaborate discourses, he ex 
 posed them with undaunted courage and pathcti 
 eloquence. From the purest moitves, and most pa 
 triotic, though, perhaps, mistaken principles, he op- 
 posed the uniting two kingdom.s, which had been 
 distinguished, during so many ages, for inveterate and 
 bloody animosity. Considering that tra::saction as a 
 reproach and disgrace to his country, he resolved to 
 quit a kingdom, which, he declared, would never have 
 consented to the annihilation of its sovereignty, but hf 
 the influence of English gold. " Will you,'* cried the 
 Indignant patriot, "consent that the majority of your 
 nobles shall be degraded, and that your gentry shall 
 be only partially admitted into councils, which are to 
 
DICTIONARY. $55 
 
 dispose of the lives and j3roperties of you all: coun- 
 cils, in which the voice and opinions of the few will 
 be overruled by the greater number; and the interests 
 of their new ally will, in every instance, be sacjlficed 
 to the venal purposes of our southern neighbours, who 
 have gained over us by the arts of corruption, that as- 
 cendancy, which they never were able to procure by 
 tke sword." 
 
 But although Mr. Fletcher was opposed to the un- 
 ion, when he found that notwithstanding his utmost 
 exertions, that measure would certainly be carried in- 
 to effect, he was the means of introducing certain 
 limitations, for which his countrymen have to thank 
 him even to the present day. He, in particular, got 
 the act of security passed, which declared that tlie 
 two crowns should not pass to the same head, till 
 Scotland was secured in her liberties, civil and reli- 
 gious. Lord Godolphin was, at last, forced into 
 the union, to avoid a civil war after the Queen's de- 
 mise. 
 
 j We must not omit mentioning, that in the ardor of 
 his political career, Mr. Fletcher forgot not the inte- 
 rest of the place, which gave him birth. He esteem- 
 ed the education of youth one of the noblest objects 
 of government. On this subject, he wrote a treatise, 
 still extant, most characteristic of himself ; and he es- 
 tablished, at Salton, a foundation for the same purpose 
 of great utility whilst it lasted. This great man died, 
 ii: London, in 17 16, aged sixty-six. 
 
 That Mr. Fletcher received neither honours nor 
 emoluments from king William, may, perhaps, be in 
 part attributed to himself; a circumstance, however, 
 which adds greatly to thejustre of his character. His 
 uncomplying virtue, and the sternness of his principles, 
 were ill calculated to conciliate courtly favour. He was 
 sozeaiousan asscrtor of the libertiesofthe people, that 
 he was ever jealous of the grovving power of all 
 pnnces, in whom he justly considered ambition to he 
 ^:3 natural, that he was not for trusting the best of 
 
356 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 kings with the power, which ill ones might make use 
 of against their subjects: he was of opinion that all 
 princes were made by and for the benefit of the peop'. , 
 and that they should have no power but that of do 
 good. This, which made him resist king Cha 
 and- invade King James, led him also to oppose th 
 giving so much power to King William. 
 
 Mr. Fletcher was master of the English, Latin 
 Greek, French and Italian languages; and well ven 
 ed in history, the civil law, and all kinds of learning.' 
 In his travels, he had not only acquired considerable 
 know'ledge in the art of war, but also became versant 
 in the respective interests of the several princes and 
 states of Europe. In private life, he was affable to 
 his friends, and free from all manner of vice. He had 
 a penetrating, clear and lively apprehension; but he 
 is said to have been too much wedded to opinions, 
 and impatient of contradiction. He possessed an un- 
 common elevation of m.ind, accompanied with a 
 'Warmth of temper, which would suffer him. to brook, 
 from no rank among men, nor in any place, an indig- 
 nity. Of this he exhibited a singular proof in the 
 Scots parliament. The earl of Stair, secretary of state, 
 and minister for Scotland, having in the heat of de- 
 bate, used an improper expression against Mr. Fletch- 
 er, he seized him by his robe, and insisted upon pub- 
 lic and immediate satisfaction. His lordship was in 
 stantly obliged to beg his pardon, in presence of par- 
 liament. 
 
 Mr. Fletcher was, by far, the finest speaker in th 
 parliam.ent of Scotland; the earl of Stair alone rivalle 
 him. The latter was famed for a splendid ; the former 
 for a clear and nervous eloquence. He formed his 
 style, on the models of antiquity; and Sir John Dal- 
 rymple observes, that the small volumiC of his works, 
 though imperfectly collected, is one of the very few 
 classical compositions in the English language. 
 
DICTIONARY. S57 
 
 FLOOD, (Henry) a celebrated Irish patriot and 
 orator, was the eldest son of Warden Flood, Lord 
 Chief Justice of the King*s Bench, in Ireland, and 
 born in 1732. After residing about three years in 
 Trinity College, Dublin, where he was more distin- 
 guished for the beauty of his person and the gaiety 
 of his manners, than for application to study ^ he was 
 removed in 1749, to the university of Oxford. Here 
 he spent two years, during which time he lived in 
 great intimacy with the late learned Mr. Thomas 
 Tyrwhitt. The first occasion of his applying intent- 
 ly to literary attainments, was his finding that gentle- 
 man and some literary friends frequently conversing, 
 at their evening meetings, on subjects, of which he 
 was ignorant; at which he felt himself so much dis- 
 tressed, that he resolved to preserve almost an entire 
 silence in their company for six. months, during which 
 time he entirely devoted himself to study, beginning 
 with a course of mathematics and then reading such 
 of the Greek and Roman historians, as he had not 
 before perused. From that time to his death, he was 
 a constant and regular student, even whilst he was 
 engaged in all the turbulence of political Ilk, and 
 became at length so complete a master of the Greek 
 language, that he read it, with almost as much facility 
 the as English. 
 
 In 1759, he was chosen a member of the Irish 
 House of Commons; but, during that session, made 
 no trial of his vast oratorical powers. In 1761, he 
 was again chosen a member for the new parliament, 
 and soon stood forward as the great leader of the op- 
 position in that country. The first important point, 
 which he attempted to effect in parliament was, an 
 explanation of the law of Poyning, by a miscon- 
 struction of which, for more than a century, the privy 
 council of Ireland, had assumed such a power as to 
 render the parliament of that kingdom, a mere cy- 
 pher : and, in consequence of his repeated eflTorts oji 
 this subject, the obnoxious part of that lav/ was, at a 
 
S58 KEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 subsequent period, repealed, though in a IcssunqualU 
 fied manner than it would have been, if the reforma- 
 tion of it had not been taken out of his hands. 
 
 The next great measure, which he undertook, was 
 a bill for limiting the duration of parliament, which, in 
 Ireland, had always subsisted for the life of the king; 
 After having twice unsuccessfully attempted to carry 
 this measure, he, at length, by constant perseveranccj^ 
 elfocted it in 1769, when the Octennial bill was past;' 
 a bill, which first gave any thing like a constitutioi 
 to Ireland, and, as it greatly increased the consei[ 
 quence of every man of property in that country, was, 
 in fact, the origin and ground-work of that emancipa- 
 tion and those additional privileges, which they after- 
 wards claimed and obtained from England. 
 
 The British parliament being taught wisdom by tb 
 loss of their late American colonies, having in 1782;^ 
 yielded to the wishes of the Irish nation, by a repeal 
 of the Act of George I. which declared that, " the 
 kingdom of Ireland ought to be subordinate to, 
 and dependent upon, the imperial crown of Great 
 Britain, and that the parliament of England hath 
 power to make laws to bind the people of Ireland." 
 Mr. Flood, in two very able and unanswerable speech- 
 es, maintained, that the simple repeal of this declara- 
 tory act was no security against a similar claim found- 
 ed on the principle of that act, being, at some future 
 time, revived by England; and, though three gentle- 
 men only of the whole House of Commons of Ireland 
 concurred with him on this occasion, he had the sa- 
 tisfaction to see his doctrine approved and ratified by 
 the minister and parliament of England, who shortly 
 afterwards passed an act, for ever renouncing that 
 claim. 
 
 In 1775, he had been appointed privy counsellor in 
 both kingdoms, and constituted one of the vice trea- 
 surers of Ireland, which office, after holding it six years, 
 he voluntarily resigned in 1781, and soon after, his 
 name was struck off from the list of privy counsellors. 
 
DICTIONARY. 359 
 
 Previous to his acceptance of this office, he made a 
 precise and explicit stipulation with government in 
 favour of all the great principles, which he had before 
 maintained in parliament, from none of which he ever 
 departed. He was chosen a member of the British 
 parliament, in 1783, in which station he continued till 
 the time of hjs death. 
 
 Mr. Flood's first known literary production was, 
 "Verses on the Death of Frederick, Prince of Wales," 
 published in the Oxford Collection, in 1751. He 
 was also author of an "Ode on Fam.e," and a 
 "Translation of the first Pythian Ode of Pindar," 
 which were printed in 1785. There are several of 
 his speeches, both in the British and Irish parliaments, 
 extant ; the last of which was delivered in the House 
 of Commons of Great Britain, March 4, 1790, and 
 had for its object a reform of the representation of 
 parliament ; on which Mr. Fox complimented him, 
 by saying, that his scheme was the most rational, 
 which had ever been produced on that subject. In 
 the social intercourse of private life, Mr. Flood was 
 uncommonly pleasing, joining to a very extensive 
 knowledge on various subjects, a great facility and 
 gentleness of manners, and like most men endowed 
 with splendid talents, possessing remarkable modesty, 
 and unassuming manners. On every great occasion, 
 he shewed a noble and comprehensive mind, replete 
 with knowledge, vigour, acuteness and argument. 
 His wit, sarcasm and happy allusions, would have 
 highly distinguished any other man -, but convincing 
 being his chief object, -and the faculty of reasoning 
 his principal power, his adversaries have represented 
 it as his only talent. Powerful as he was in stating, 
 enforcing and illustrating subjects, which he pro- 
 pounded in parliament, and on which he always shew- 
 ed, that he had obtained every possible information, 
 he was still more impressive in reply, always preserv- 
 ing his temper, ard refuting his opponents with the 
 same perspicuity, precision, correctness and elegance 
 
360 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 of language, which marked his original speech. His 
 memory was so tenacious, that he frequently, at the 
 end of a long debate, answered every member of any 
 weight, who had spoken on the opposite side, refuting 
 each of their arguments, in exact order, without the 
 aid of a single note. Few men have studied the En- 
 glish language more attentively than he, or were bet- 
 ter acquainted with all its niceties of constructioa 
 and most subtle discriminations ; in consequence of 
 which, whilst he hurried away by the strength of his 
 arguments, he delighted every person of taste and 
 judgment by a certain happiness of diction, whi( 
 added infinite grace and beauty to his eloquence. 
 
 We shall conclude our account of this eminenj 
 orator and statesmen with this remark, that, if evei 
 the history of Ireland shall be written by an able an( 
 impartial person, it will place in the most distinguish- 
 ed rank, the revered name of Henry Flood, who firsGj 
 roused Irishmen to assert their constitutional free- 
 dom. In the midst of his fame and public utility, 
 he was seized with a pleurisy, which put a period to 
 his illustrious life, Dec. 2d, 1791. 
 
 FOOTE (Samuel) a man of genius, a dramatic 
 writer, and a mimic, who, descended from respecta- 
 ble ancestors, and inheriting an estate of upwards of 
 20,000 dollars per annum, reduced himself by a fa- 
 tal propensity to gaming, and other extravagances to 
 great pecuniary embarassment. 
 
 He was born at Truro, Cornwall, in 1721, and educaJt- 
 ed at Worcester college, Oxford, from whence he was 
 removed to the Temple, as he was designed for the bar. 
 He married a young lady of a good family and some 
 fortune ; but their tempers not agreeing, a perfect har- 
 mony did not long subsist between them. He now 
 launched out into all the fashionable extravagances of 
 the age, and, in a few years spent the whole of his 
 fortune. His necessities led him to the stage, but at 
 
DICTIONARY. SOi 
 
 he was never a capital actor of the plays of others, 
 his salary was very unequal to his gay and expensive 
 turn; and he "contracted debts, which obliged hinv 
 for some tiirre/to live in conceahnent. "He, on jbJ^ 
 occasion, relieved his necessities by the foUoW'ing stra- 
 tagenn. Str Francis Delaval had long -been his in- 
 timate friend, and had dissipated his fortune, by ex- 
 travagance simitar to his own. A lady, who was, 
 likewise, an intimate acquaintance of Foote, and 
 exceedingly rich, was fortunatelv, at that ;i me, bent 
 upon a matrimonial scheme. Foote strongly recom- 
 mended to her to consult, upon this m.omentous occa- 
 sloUj the conjuror in the Old Bailey, whom he represent- 
 ed as a man of surprising skill and penetration. .-He 
 employed an acquaintance of his own, to personate 
 the conjuror, who depicted Sir Francis at full length; 
 described the time when, the place where, and, the 
 dress, in which she w^ould see him. The lady was 
 so struck with the coincidence of every circumstance, 
 that she married Sir Francis in a few days, who, for 
 this service, settled an annuity upon Foote, and thus 
 ennabled him once more to emerge from obscurity. 
 
 In 1747, he opened the little theatre in the Hay Mar- 
 ket, taking upon himself the double character of au- 
 thor and performer, and appeared in a dramatic piece 
 of his own composition, called " The Diversions o£ 
 the Morning.*' This piece was nothing more than 
 the introduction of well-known characters in real life, 
 whose manner of conversing and expressing them- 
 selves, he had a most amazing talent of imitating, even 
 to the very voice of those he intended to ta/ce off. 
 This performance, at first, met with some opposition 
 from the civil magistrates, under the sanction of the 
 act of parliament, for limiting the number of play- 
 houses, as well as from the jealousy of one of. the 
 managers of Drury Lane theatre; but the autV.oc 
 being patronized by many of the principal nobility, 
 •and other persons of distinction, this opposition wa^ 
 overruled, and with only altering the title of his piscc 
 Vol.11. xVo. 14. Z'2 
 
S62^ WEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 to*^Mr. Foote giving Tea to his- Friends," he proceec?-. 
 ed without further molestation and represented it for 
 upwards of forty times to crowded and spJendid 
 audiences. 
 
 The ensuing season, he produced another piece of 
 the same kind, called "An Auction of Pictures," in 
 w hich he introduced several new characters, all of 
 whom, however, were extremely weli known. Tbi* 
 piece had also a very great run, lot was any paini^ 
 spared to procure this success ; for it is to be noted,^ 
 that he himself represented all the principal characteri 
 of each piece, where his great mimic povvers wer^ 
 necessary, shifting from one to another, with all th&J 
 dexterity of a Proteus. || 
 
 These performances wei^, by no means, regular 
 pieces, but possessed, in a considerable degree, the 
 grand dramatic requisites. In a vein of irresistible- 
 humour, and in a mode so peculiarly his own, that it, 
 may be said to have perished with him, he successful- 
 ly lashed vicious affectation, strange whim, absurd 
 pride and personal peculiarity, by licentious dis- 
 tortion, and broad caricature, but with certain resem-;«| 
 blances in voice, manner, gait, and dress, too striking-ll 
 to escape the public eye,, whilst selfishness and' 
 imposition, disguised in the demure exterior of religion>- 
 and pretended sanctity were unmasked, ridiculed and;§ 
 placed in the most absurd points of view. 
 
 But here he did not stop; for, in his rage to expose^^ 
 every known character to ridicule, he indiscrimlnatelj 
 excited the risible faculties of his audience, at real v 
 ces, and harmless infirmities, at vile hypocrisy an( 
 pure religion ; and such were the extent of his laugh* 
 ter provoking powers, that even the more thinking 
 part of his company found themselves compelled to 
 join in the laugh, though they could not help correct- 
 ing themselves, the next moment for such uncharita- 
 ble ebuliticns of mirth, as were, for the most part,, 
 raised at the expence of misfortune, personal deformi- 
 ty,, friendsliipa, private worthy, and even of those things^ 
 
DICTIOMAHY. BG$ 
 
 wlilch a large and respectable part of the communi- 
 ty, deem sacred. 
 
 His ** Knights" which was the produce of the third 
 season, was a performance of somewhat more dramatic 
 regularity ; but still, although his plot and characters 
 •seemed less immediately personal, it was apparent^ 
 that he kept some particular real persons strongly in 
 view, in the performance; and the town took upon 
 themselves to fix them, where the resemblance ap- 
 peared to be the most striking. Thus Mr. Foote 
 continued from time to time, to select for the enter- 
 tainment of the public, such characters as well ge»ie- 
 ral as individual, as seemed most likely to engage 
 their attention. 
 
 It would be superfluous to follow this genius thro' 
 the course of his dramatic progress, as to all the 
 pieces he has written, with a history of particulars. 
 Suffice it to observe, that, from 1752, to 1761, he con- 
 tinued to perform at one of the theatres every season, 
 as fancy or interest directed his choice, generally for 
 a stated number of nights; and on these engage- 
 ments, he usually brought out a new piece. And 
 thus he went on, till a very pressing embarassment in 
 his affairs, compelled him to perform ^'The Minor," 
 at the Hay-Market, in the summer of 1760, with such 
 ■a company, as he could hastily collect. Hencefor- 
 ward he pursued the scheme of occupying that theatre, 
 when the others were shut up; and from 17.62 to the 
 season before his death, he regularly performed there. 
 
 In the year 1766, being on a party of pleasure, with 
 the late Duke of York and some otl>ers, Mr. Foote, 
 had the misfortune to break his leg, by a fall from his 
 horse; in consequence of which, he was compelled 
 to undergo an amputation. This accident so sensibly 
 affected the Duke, that he made a point of obtaining a 
 patent for Mr. Foote for life; whereby he was allow- 
 ed to perform at the little theatre in the Hay-market, 
 from the 1 5 th, of May to the 1 5th of September every 
 year. 
 
364 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 He now became a greater favourite with the towm 
 than ever ; his very laughable pieces with his stilU 
 more laughable performances constantly filled hi^ 
 house : and. his receipts, were, in some seasons, a]^ 
 most incredible. But his income, great as it was,f 
 did not keep pace with his expences, for besides what 
 he spent in vicrous indulgences, his generosity and 
 hospitality knew no bounds. i 
 
 in 1776, he drew a character of a lady of quality 
 then much talked of, who had influence enough t 
 hinder his play from being represented ; and, in th 
 course of , this conflict, certain imputations werei 
 thrown out against him, which ripened at lengt" 
 into a legal charge. In short, he was accused of 
 unnatural practices, and though the accusation was 
 supposed to have originated from malice, and he* 
 was honourably acquitted, yet the shock, he received 
 irom this disgracing situation, is believed to have had 
 a fatal effect upon him. 
 
 Finding his health decline, he entered into an a-i 
 greement with Mr. Colem.an, for his patent of the 
 theatre ; according to which he was to receive from 
 that gentleman 7104 dollars per annum, besides a 
 stipulated sum, whenever he chose to perform. But 
 his spirits now began to fail, and he applied to his old 
 resource the bottle, but in vain : for during these tem 
 porary flashes, which this false friend affords, inter-f 
 vals of silence occurred, which could only be attribut-^ 
 ed to mental anguish in him, or the fear, with whiph 
 he inspired others^ of the keenness of his satire, and 
 the overwhelming tumultuous attack of his humour, 
 which, when exerted, always predominated, bcaring^ 
 down every thing and every body before it. 
 
 But, indeed a life spent in direct violation of moral 
 duty, and whose best praise it was, th^t it provided 
 laughter for the giddy, and indecent merriment for 
 the^ unthinking, whilst reason and religion sighed at 
 his conduct, could not be expected to end with com 
 fort or substantial hope. In the midst of company, 
 
 J 
 
DICTIONARY. 3&0 
 
 he was often observed to be lost In thought, whilst 
 frequent sighs, and a corresponding countenance be- 
 I trayed an uneasy mind. A friend congratulated him 
 on having settled his annuity business with Mr. Cole- 
 man, and observed, that he might now pass the re- 
 mainder of his life, with tranquility and comfort. '* I 
 was miserable before, and now I am far from being 
 happy," was his remarkable answer. 
 
 A few months after he had sold his patent, being 
 one night affected with a paralytic stroke, whilst on 
 fthe stage, he was compelled to retire ; from whicli, 
 i however, he recovered sufficiently to spend the sum- 
 I mer at Brigthelmstone. A few weeks before his 
 death, he returned to London ; but, by the advice of 
 his physicians, set cut with an intention to spend the 
 winter at Paris, and in the South of France. He 
 had got no farther than Dover, when he was sudden- 
 ly attacked with another stroke of the palsy, which, 
 in a few hours, put a period to his life. He died, 
 21st, October 1777, in the fifty-sixth year of his age, 
 and was privately interred in the cloisters of West- 
 minster abbey, 
 
 ?'We think, that the following words might, with 
 great propriety, have been engraved on his tomb, 
 *' Those, who, in confidence of superior capacities 
 or attainments, affect to despise the common rules 
 of life, should remember, that nothing can attone 
 for the want of prudence, that negligence and irre- 
 gularity long continued, render wit absurd, genius 
 useless, and talents contemptible." 
 
 FORDYCE, (David) an elegant and learned 
 writer of the last century, was professor of philosophy 
 in the Alarischal college, Aberdeen. He was ori- 
 ginally designed for the ministry, to prepare himself 
 for which was the whole aim of his ambition ; and, 
 for a course of years, the sole purpose of his studies. 
 How well he was qualified to assume that office, ap- 
 
2QS KEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 pears from his " Thcodorus, A Dialogue concern*] 
 ing the art of Preaching." After having finished this ' 
 work, he went abroad on his travels, in order to obtarn 
 fresh stores of knowledge ; but after a successful tour 
 thro* several parts of Europe, he was unfortunately 
 cast away in a storm, on the coast of Holland. Besides 
 the above work, he wrote " Dialogues on Education" 
 8vo. and an excellent *' Treatise of Moral Philos( 
 phy," which was published in the " Preceptor.'* Th( 
 third edition of his "Theodorus" was published in] 
 London, after his untimely death, by his brother, thw 
 Rev. Mr, James Fordyce, an eminent dissenting mi- 
 nister, in 1755. 
 
 FORDYCE,^ (Sir William) one of the mo! 
 eminent physicians in London, in the 18th century, 
 and a very benevolent man, was originally an apother 
 cary in Huntingdonshire, then mate, and afterward! 
 surgeon to one of the regiments of guards. 
 
 By the force of superior talents, incessant applica- 
 tion, and his great skill in chemistry, he gradually 
 quitted the low grounds of physic, and, by his great 
 merit, at last, ascendeed, the mountain top. Sue] ' 
 was the opinion of his medical acumen, that a cer«( 
 tain nobleman of high rank, would not build on hij 
 Llampshire estate, till he had by earnest entreaty, ac-' 
 companied with the title deeds of an estate, prevailed^ 
 on the physician to become his near neighbour. Bat 
 uninterrupted rest is not one of the comforts of medii 
 cal fame, and he was frequently called, by profes- 
 sional engagements, to a considerable distance froi 
 the seat of his noble friend. 
 
 The son of Lord Eardley was dangerously ill oi 
 the continent. Not satisfied with the mildness of ai 
 Italian sky, the delightful bay, and medicated ices of 
 Naples, his lordship prevailed on Sir Williara to visit 
 Mr. Eardley, who soon recovered, andjthe grateful pa« 
 rent, well knowing the value of health, and better a- 
 
 I 
 
DICTIONARY. S&l 
 
 hie than, mostjpeople, to reward the man, who had beer^ 
 instrumental in procuring it, welcomed Sir William's 
 return with a draft on his banker for 2000 guineas. 
 
 It has been objected to Dr. Garth, who was seldom 
 well himself, that a man, unable to keep his own 
 machine in order, was but ill qualified to superin- 
 tend the repairing of others j but the charge against 
 Dr. Garth, originated more from his indiscriminate 
 amours than any want of necessary knowledge. If 
 the skill of Sir William is to be weighed in such a 
 ; balance, the estimate will be highly favourable ; for^, 
 twith a frame naturally delicate,.heexhbited till within 
 a very short period of his death, unimpaired healthy 
 and unclouded faculties, at the age of seventy. From 
 habit as well as inclination, his diet was frugal, and, 
 as far as was consistent with the London etiquette of 
 a carriage, he took every opportunity of walking and 
 jiiding on horseback. 
 
 ! He published an Essay on the Venerea] Disease^ 
 w^hich was generally considered by medical men, as 
 • a well written and well-timed publication^ as it ap- 
 peared at a period, when the public were in danger 
 of being led astray by the interested misrepresenta- 
 tions of impostors and quacks, who, with the experi- 
 ence of more than a century, staring them in the face^ 
 impudently pretended they could cure the wounds of 
 this scourge of illicit embraces^ without making use 
 of its only specific remedy. If the book has a fault, 
 it is a little tendency to tumid and heroic language ; the 
 author occasionally wandering out of his road, and 
 prating of the warriors of Agincourt and Cressy, when 
 the reader is looking for scientific instruction and 
 practical utility. 
 
 The biographical sketches of this eminent person^, 
 iwhich have come to our hands, are exceedingly scan- 
 ty. From all the accounts, however, which we have 
 seen and also from what we have heard concerning 
 him, he was one of those persons, who by dint of ge- 
 aius, irreproachable manners, and unwearied attentiori 
 
368 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 1 
 
 to the duties of his profession, raised himself from a 
 humble station, to the very top of his profession. Very 
 deservedly possessing the highest reputation as a 
 physician, his practice was for nlany years supposed^ 
 to be fully as respectable as that of any of his bre- 
 thren in London, in consequence of which he acquired 
 a handsome independence. He was also a man of 
 the most extensive benevolence, and has left his res 
 pectable name unsullied by any known vice, or un 
 gentlemanly action. Pie died, Dec. 4th, 1792. 
 
 FOSTER, (Samuel) an English mathematician, an( 
 astronomical professor of Gresham college, was bora 
 in Northamptonshire, England, and sent to EmanueP 
 college, Cambridge, in 1616. He applied early toa 
 the mathematics and attained to great proficiency iai 
 that kind of knowledge, of which he gave the first' 
 specimen in 1624. He had an elder brother at thei 
 same college with himself, who prevented him in a^ 
 fellowship; however, to make amends fof this, he. 
 offered himself a candidate for the professorship ofj 
 astronomy in Gresham college, in February, 1636,^ 
 and was elected. Fie quitted it again, Nov. 25th,j 
 the same year, and was succeeded therein by Mr^'i 
 Mungo Murray, professor of philosophy, at St. An-.j; 
 drews, in Scotland. Murray marrying in 1641, his 
 professorship was thereby vacated ; and as Foster be- J 
 fore had rriade way tor him, so he, at present, made^ 
 way for Foster, w^ho was re-elected. May 22d, the ^j 
 same year. $ 
 
 The civil war breaking out soon after, Mr. Foster j) 
 became one of that learned association, which met 
 for cultivating the new philosophy, and which Charles 
 II. afterwards established into the Royal Society. In 
 1646, Dr. Wallis, another member of that society, r©*'i 
 ceived from Foster a mathematical theorem, which 
 he afterwards published in his " Mechanics." Mr. 
 Foster, however, not only excelled in this branch of 
 
BICTIONART. j^QB 
 
 Science, but was, likewise, well versed in the an* 
 cient languages. He made several curious observa- 
 tions upon eclipses both of the sun and moon, and 
 was particularly famous for inventing, as well as im- 
 proving astronomical and other mathematical instru- 
 ments. He was on the whole, a man much celebra* 
 ted in his day, and left a number of mathematical 
 and astronomical treatises too many to particularize ; 
 which, however, are still esteemed very valuable. He 
 died in 1652. 
 
 FOSTER, (Reverend Benjamin) late Pastor of 
 
 the first Baptist Church, in the city of New- York, 
 was descended of respectable parents of the Con- 
 gregational or Independent Church, and born at 
 Danvers, in the county of Essex, Massachusetts, 
 June 12, 1750. 
 
 Agreeably to the custom of his native State, he 
 received the early part of his education at the town 
 school*; and as he evinced, from his tender years, 
 a remarkably devout and pioq^ disposition, his pa- 
 r«nts devoted his whole time to academical pursuits, 
 in that seminary, in order to fit him for the univer- 
 sity, where they intended to fix him, as soon as his 
 age would admit of his removal from under their 
 immediate care. At the age of eighteen, he w^as 
 placed at Yale College, in the State of Connecticut, 
 It that time under the direction of the learned and 
 oious President Dagget, where he soon distinguished 
 limself no less, by his religious and exemplary life, 
 ban by his success and assiduity in classical literii- 
 :ure. 
 
 About this time, several tracts, relative to the pre- 
 
 * By the laws of Maffachurettj, every townfhip confifling of fifty 
 loufc -holders or upward:?, muft provide itfelf with one or more propef 
 cachers of reading, writing and arithmetic; and, if the town have 
 wo hundred tamilics, thtre muft, likevfife, be a teacher ^cf the 
 jffek and Latin languages. 
 
 Vol. II. No. 15. A 3 
 
S7t) NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 per subjects of baptism, and also to the scriptural 
 mode of administering that divine ordinance, having 
 made their appearance, the matter was considerably 
 agitated in College, and fixed on as a proper subject 
 for discussion, when Mr. Foster was appointed to 
 defend infant baptism by sprinkling. To prepare 
 himself for this disputation, he applied with the ut- 
 most assiduity and ardour. He endeavoured to view 
 the question in every light, in which it could possi- 
 bly be placed, he examined the sacred records with 
 attention, and searched into the practice of the pri- 
 -eiitive church. The result, however, was very dif- 
 ferent from what was expected ; for, when the day 
 appointed arrived, he was so far from being con-t 
 Srmcd in the opinion, which he meant to defendl 
 that he declared himself convinced, that the cause' 
 which he had formerly espoused was wrong, and, to 
 the astonislimentof the college officers, avowed him- 
 self a convert to the doctrine of adult baptism by im- 
 mersion, of which he ever after continued a steady, 
 zealous and powerful advocate. jil 
 
 His conversion arid new birth, a doctrine whicn" 
 "he ever held as scriptural and essential to the salva- 
 tion of souls, commenced at an early period of his 
 life : but his christian experience and trials were 
 long and severe, so that he had nearly arrived al 
 manhood, before he obtained that comfortable sharf 
 of divine consolation, which the vain world can ncH 
 -ther give nor take away. Whilst a youth, his temp- 
 tations to blaspheme were often so strong, that as fy 
 related to some pious friends, he has ' laid fast hold; 
 of his lips to prevent himself from sinning against! 
 his Creator 
 
 He graduated about the year 1772, soon aftei 
 which he took up the cross of his master Jesus, madt 
 a public profession of his faith, was baptized b) 
 immersion and joined the church, in Boston, 
 which the Reverend Dr. Samuel Stiilman Vv^as pastor 
 Under the fostering care of that gentleman, he ap 
 
BICTIONARY. '37h 
 
 plied himself to the study of divinity and took 
 upon himself the charge of the Baptist Church, i!> 
 Leicester, Massachusetts, over which he v\as the 
 same year, regularly ordained as pabtor. During his> 
 residence in that place, he published a tract, entitled 
 *' The Washingof Regeneration, or the Divine Right 
 of Immersion," in answer to a treatise on the sub- 
 ject of baptism, written by the Rev. Mr. Fish'. 
 And soon after he published his " Primitive Baptism 
 defended in a letter to the Rev. Mr. John Cleve- 
 land." in both of which, he discovered considerable 
 erudition, great depth of argument and much Christ 
 tian charity. After having continued at Leices- 
 ter for several years, his connection with that church 
 was dissolved and he preached, for a short time, in his 
 native town of Danvers ; but as neither Danvers nor 
 Leicester afforded him the use of such books, as were 
 necessary for a person of his studious turn, he accept- 
 ed of an invitation to take upon him the pastoral care 
 of a church in Newport, Rhode-Island, where he soon 
 had the satisfaction to find, that his sphere of useful- 
 ness was considerably enlarged and his means of study- 
 greatly improved. 
 
 . On an invitation from the First Baptist Church in 
 New- York, he paid them a visit in 1788, and after, 
 having preached there for a short time, received an 
 unanimous call to settle amongst them as their pastor. 
 Upon his return to Newport, he consulted with his 
 church, who, though highly pleased with the eminent 
 services of their learned and faithful teacher, were 
 unwilling to throw any obstacle in- the way, which 
 migiit impede his removal to a place, where his minis- 
 terial labours might be still more extensively usefuJ. 
 'Te therefore accepted the call at New-York, and hav- 
 .g taken upon him the pastoral charge of that church, 
 in the autumn of the same year, continued in that 
 station till the time of his death. 
 
 In September, 1792, the degree of D. D. was con- 
 ferred upon him by the College of Rhode-Island,, m^ 
 
Sl2 SEW EI0RA?HICA3i 
 
 consequence of a learned publication of his, entitled^, 
 **A Dissertation on the seventy Weeks of Daniel, tbfr 
 particular and exact Fulfillment of which Prophecy' 
 is considered and proved.*' From the time Dr. Fos- 
 ter set o t as a gospel minister, he w^as. jjniformly assi- . 
 duous in the discharge of all the duties of his office *y 
 nor did his zeal in the service of his master abate, as, 
 he advanced in life ; for during his last twelve or four»| 
 teen years, it was his constant pra'. tice to preach front 
 four to six sermons every week. But the yellow fe- 
 ver, which committed so great havoc in New-York^ 
 during the a )tumn of 1798, put a period to the use-i 
 fulness of this worthy man. This dreadful maladjr^ 
 bad begun to prevail and several of his friends sunk, 
 under its malignity. In their last illness, Dr. Foster 
 was frequent in his vists, when he prayed with themj 
 and administered the soothing consolations of reli^rirrrj 
 Were we to say,, that in the discharge of this office^- 
 he fell a victim to his humanity, the expression might 
 indicate our belief in. the contagious nature of the dis- 
 temptr, a doctrine, concerning Vvhich, in a publica* 
 tion of this kind, we have no occasion to express our 
 opinion. We shall, therefore, only observe, that aa 
 he was one of those, whom no appearance of danger- 
 could intimidate from persevering in what he copsi- 
 dered to be the path of duty, he was not anw'lling ta 
 visit thoseseats of affiiction, from which, at that time, 
 many of the best of men shrunk back with terror. 
 He vt'as, however,, seized with the disorder, and aft^p 
 an illness of a very few days, expired, 26th August 
 1798, to the great and almost irreparable loss of his. 
 churchy beiiig aged 49 years 2 months, and 14 
 days. 
 
 Dr. Foster as a scholar, particularly in the Greek,, 
 Hel rew and Chaldean languages, has left few su- 
 periors. As a divine, he was strictly Calvinistic, and 
 full on the the doctrine of salvation by free grace ; 
 and as a preacherj he was indefatigable. In private 
 life^ he was innocent as a child, and harmless as ^ 
 
0fCTioNALr, 37S: 
 
 dove, fulfilling all the duties of life with the greatest 
 exactitude and punctuality. The following inscrip- 
 tion on a handsome marble over his grave, in the Bap- 
 tist burying ground, New-York, written by an emi- 
 nent Presbyterian clergyman of that city^ is an enco- 
 mium justly due to his memory ; " As a scholar and 
 divine he excelled ; as a preacher he was eminent ; as 
 a christian, he shone conspicuously. In his piety he 
 was fervent. The church was comforted by his life ;. 
 and it now laments his death." 
 
 Dr. Foster was twice married, and in both instan- 
 ces was blest with a pious and excellent companion. 
 His first wife, who was Elizabeth, Daughter ot the 
 Reverend Dr. Thomas Green, Leicester, died !9th 
 August, 1793 ; and his second was Martha, daugh- 
 ter of Mr. James Bingham, New-York, whom he 
 survived but a very short time, as she died 27th Ju]y„ 
 1798. 
 
 FOTHERGILL, (Dr. John), an eminent English 
 Phvsician was born at Carr-End in Yorkshire, the 8tU 
 March, 1712. His father was a member of that religi- 
 ous society commonly called QuaKers, and his mother 
 was the daughter of Thomas Hough, a man of consi- 
 derable fortune near Frodsham, in Cheshire, where he 
 was placed at school, and where he remained till he 
 had attained to the twelfth year of his age. After this 
 he was removed to a private school, at Sedberg, in 
 Yorkshire, where, according to every appearance, he 
 made a rapid progress in his education — He after- 
 wards served his time to one Mr. Bartlet, an eminent 
 apothecary at Bradford, a m.an, whose good character 
 and exemplary life gained him universal esteem ; and, 
 who, by his abilities, had rendered his house a semina- 
 ry, where many distinguished physicians received the 
 £rst rudiments of the medical art. 
 
 When his apprenticeship had expired, young 
 Fothergill re.moved to Edinburgh, to study physic, in 
 
S71 NEW MOGRAPH^CAI, 
 
 the university of that place, prior to his establishing;: 
 himself in the country as an apothecary, for which he 
 was originally intended. 
 
 Edinburgh, at this period, could boast of a Monro>. 
 an Alston, a Rutherford, a Sinclair, and a Plummer, 
 ;all of whom were men of eminent abilities, who had 
 issued from the Boerhaavian school. The first of these 
 so justly celebrated for his knowledge of anatomy, 
 soon distinguished young Fothergill among his pupils ; 
 and as he thought, he observed in him such powers 
 of mind as seemed to afford great hopes of their fu- 
 ture progress, when brought to maturity, he advised 
 him to enlarge the cultivation of them, by a longer 
 residence at the university than he had at first propos- 
 ed. Modesty and difHdence, are usually the attend- 
 ants of ^reat talents and strength of mind; and it is 
 very often owing to lucky circumstances, or the en- 
 couragement of friends, that those, who possess them, 
 are ever put in a way to emerge from obscurity. — 
 This, in some measure, appears to have been the case 
 with young Fothergill, who, at this time, as we have 
 every reason to believe, entertained such an opinion 
 of his own abilities, as perfectly reconciled his mind 
 w^ith the thoughts of moving in a very humble sphere. 
 To the discernment, therefore, of this illustrious pro- 
 fessor may it be attributed, that his pupil turned his 
 thoughts towards higher objects; and, indeed, his 
 application and ardent desire for instruction tended 
 greatly to confirm the professor's sagacity : for as he 
 advanced in knowledge, he still found new incite- 
 ments to make a farther progress. 
 
 It too often happens, that ingenious youths, hurried 
 on by the strength of passion, and the ardour of ima- 
 gination, fall into destructive irregularities, which 
 neither length of time, nor the voice of maturer reason 
 are ever able thoroughly to correct. In the present 
 subject of biography, however, we should in vain 
 search for the reason of youthful indulgence ; and, 
 we may^ in some measure, judge of his sentiments 
 
IpICTIOHARY. ^75 
 
 and character, even at this early period of his life, by 
 the following anecdote. Besides his other useful en- 
 gagements at Edinburgh, Mr. Fothergill kept a diary, 
 in classical Latin, of all his actions, and of such occur- 
 rences as occasionally happened to him. Having 
 one day requested a friend to accompany him in a 
 visit to one of the professors, with whom he was in- 
 timately acquainted, they breakfasted with him and 
 were received in a very polite manner. As they had 
 gone to heary they left the choice of the con/ersatlon 
 to the Professor, who, being in good spirits, was 
 cheerful and talkative, but the principal part of his 
 discourse consisted of some lively and, what most 
 people would have deemed, entertaining adventure^, 
 which had beftillen him in his younger days, whilst a 
 student at Leyden, Paris and London. The gentle- 
 man, who accompanied Mr. Fothergill, having after- 
 wards an opportunity of seeing his diary found in it, 
 an account of the professor's conversation related in 
 the following laconic manner, multa dixil^ ; non miilta 
 dldlclmus. He spoke much ; but we learned little. 
 
 In the year 1736, Mr. Fothergill took his degree at 
 Edinburgh, and published his Thesis, the subject of 
 which vi^as Dc Emeticorum usu. Soon after this he 
 went to London, and attended the practice of St. 
 Thomas's hospital. Here he was at once furnished 
 with abundant opportunities of examining the doc- 
 trines of the schools, and of comparing them with a 
 series of facts, drawn from practice and dissection; 
 and it is related by some of hiscotemporaries, that his 
 application was unremitting, and that his remarks 
 upon cases were often listened to with great attention 
 even by his seniors. Diligence and application were 
 not, however, the only things by which he distinguish- 
 ed himself while in this situation : his humanity and 
 attention to the poor were equally conspicuous ; and 
 it is certain, that those indigent people, who sought 
 relief from him, were loud in proclaiming the success 
 of his prescriptions, and gradually assisted to raise him 
 
St6 KEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 to more extensive and pfofiKafble •employment. 1>p. 
 Fothergill has often mentioned to his friends, _ hovf. 
 much he \v:&is Indebted to this class of grateful, thougl^ 
 needy suppliants J and [n his turn he acknowledged 
 the obligation ; for lie humanejy continued to give 
 advice gratis to the poor, during the rest of his life>^J 
 when their suffrages could no longer tend either to 
 enlarge his pratke, or to elevate his reputation. We 
 must confess, therefore, that this persevering benevo*?" 
 lence could proceed only from the innate goodness 
 of his heart. 
 
 About this time, before he could have been estab- 
 lished in very extensive practice, he went to Leyden, 
 whence, after a short stay, he travelled through some 
 parts of France and Germany, and returning to Eng- 
 land, began his practice in London, in the year 1740^ 
 for though he had taken his doctor's degree, in 1736, 
 the intermediate time was chiefly employed in attend- 
 ing the hospitals and laying that foundation, upon 
 which he afterwards raised so distinguished a super- 
 structure. His Thesis, with all its merit, as it did not 
 much attract the public attention, could not have con- 
 tributed greatly to extend his reputation. The same 
 may be said respecting his remarks on the neutral 
 salts of plants, and on his *" Terra Foliata Tartari," 
 published the same year in the Edinburgh Medical 
 Essays, as subjects merely confined to medical disqui- 
 sition. 
 
 In 1744, his essay on the ^^ Manna Persicum,*' 
 was inserted in the Philosophical Transactions, and 
 in 1745, his letter to Dr. Mead and his observations 
 on a case of recovering a man dead in apperance. In 
 the year following he was admitted a licentiate of the 
 ^lloyal College of Physicians. 
 
 The preceding publications were more solid than 
 brilliant. They were calculated rather to insure fu* 
 turejeputation than present emolument, and will be 
 read now with as much pleasure as when first pub- 
 lished. What he endeavored to prave^ to illustrate 
 
DICTIONARY. ^77 
 
 and enforce, respecting the recovery of persons appa- 
 rently dead by drowning, has been since attempted in 
 most of the maritime states of Europe and in the Uni- 
 ted States, and he enjoyed the happiness of Jiving 
 to see those rules adopted with success, which, up- 
 wards of thirty years before, he had recommended by 
 his pen. To whatever merit, these observations might 
 have been entitled, the' subjects, at that time, excited 
 no popular attention, though since prosecuted with a 
 zeal, which does honour to humanity. It could not, 
 therefore, have contributed in any degree to elevate 
 his character ; yet, at this period, he had acquired 
 very considerable employment in his profession, and 
 his emoluments were greater than what many physi- 
 cians of longer duration could boast of. 
 
 Highly flattering as this success must have been, so 
 early in life, it bore very little proportion to that, 
 which succeeded his " Account of the Sore Throat 
 i attended with Ulcers," published in 1748, and smce 
 deservedly translated into almost every language of 
 ! Europe. Not long before the appearance of this work, 
 the disease of which he treated, had, in its generai 
 .havoc in London, indiscriminately swept away the 
 : rising hopes of some of the most respectable families, 
 and hence excited a very general alarm. The dis- 
 covery, therefore, of a new and successful method of 
 treating so formidable and fatal a disease was fortu- 
 nate for the public as well as for the author. Medical 
 essays, on improvements in the healing art, are fre- 
 quently offered to the public, in a state of imperfec- 
 tion ; but Dr. Fothergiirs performance, on the sore 
 throat, was exempted from the imbecility of a hasty 
 birth, and the revolution it produced in the treatment 
 of that disease, has obtained the sanction of the ablest 
 physicians to the present time ; and, with less devia- 
 tion, perhaps, than has ever attended the management 
 3f any other acute disorder. As the alarm amongst 
 "^rsons of fashion long subsided. Dr. Fothergiirs re- 
 lation rapidly increased ; for, whenever a physician 
 Vol, II. No, 15. B3 
 
S78 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 astonishes the public with new discoveries upon any 
 popular disease, the reputation of sagacity in every 
 other will generally be bestowed upon him. The 
 doctor was, therefore, now introduced into the first 
 families in London, and was seldom employed, but 
 his success made him be again soua^ht for. 
 
 As a rational means of unbending his mind, and 
 •with a view, at the same time, to promote the advance- 
 ment of the healing art, Dr. Fothergill turned hi^ 
 thoughts towards botany, of which he became a dis- 
 tinguished patron. In 1762, he, therefore, purchased 
 an estate at Upton in Essex, and formed a botanic 
 garden, the walls of which enclosed about five acres 
 of ground. A winding canal in the form of a crescent 
 nearly separated it into two divisions, and opened oc- 
 casionally on the sight through the branches of rare 
 and exotic shrubs that lined the walks on its banks. 
 In the middle of winter, when the earth was covered 
 with snow, evergreens were here clothed in full ver- 
 dure j a glass door from the mansion house gave en- 
 trance, without being exposed to the air, into a suite 
 of hot and green-house apartments of nearly 260 feet 
 extent containing upwards of 3,400 distinct species ol 
 exotics, the foliage of which seemed to be enlivenedl 
 by a perpetual spring, and in the open ground with! 
 the returning summer, about 3,000 species of plantil 
 and shrubs^ vied in Verdure and beauty with the mor^ 
 tender natives of Africa and America. On the im«i 
 provement of his garden he spared no expences, as hf 
 kept fifteen men constantly employed in taking can 
 of it, and had an ingenious botanist, qualified to col 
 lect for him at the Cape of Good Hope, and anothe: 
 on the Alps. To this garden, the worthy and inge 
 nious proprietor oftimes retired for a few hours, t( 
 contemplate the vegetable productions of the fou 
 quarters of the globe inclosed in his domain ; and her< 
 one might have justly said, that the sphere seemec 
 transported, and that the Arctic circle joined to th 
 Equator* 
 
DICTIONARY. 219 
 
 But whatever were the objects of Dr. Fothergiirs 
 attcRtion, such was his benevolence and love of man- 
 kind, that he ever wished tQ convert them to some 
 valuable use. What exertions he made and what he 
 contributed to spread the useful productions of the 
 globe, and to promote the cultivation of them in climes, 
 where they were never before known, would fill a 
 whole volume, were it necessary to enlarge upon 
 them. From America, he received a variety of valua- 
 ble trees and shrubs, which became denizens of his 
 domain, some of them capable of being applied to the 
 most useful purposes of timber ; and in return he 
 transported green and bohea trees from his garden to 
 the southern part of that great continent. He en- 
 deavoured also to improve the growth and quality of 
 ccftee in the West India Islands, and used many en- 
 deavours to introduce plants of the true cinnamon into 
 the British West India colonies. But intent as he 
 was to promote so many articles of commerce, manu- 
 facture and convenience, he never lost sight of those 
 departments of natural history, which were more im- 
 mediately connected with medicine. He, accordingly, 
 studied almost every department of that extensive 
 science, and became possessed of one of the most 
 valuable colleciions of its rarest objects as was to be 
 found in the British dominions. 
 
 In the year 1765, he began regularly to withdraw 
 during the summer months from the excessive fatigue 
 of his profession to Lee Hall, a secluded spot in 
 Cheshire, which, though he rented only by the year, 
 he spared no expence to improve. He took no fees 
 during this recess, but prescribed gratis without the 
 least hesitation. During his retirement here, he, 
 likewise, arranged his medical observations, for which 
 his memory will be respected, and thence he main- 
 tained a correspondence with most parts of the civiliz- 
 ed world. It would be difficult to trace Dr. Fother- 
 giiTs pen, through all the variaus and useful subjects 
 on which it was employed, daring the few months. 
 
3&0 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 that he retired every year to Cheshire ; but he seldom 
 or perhaps- never wrote but for private amusement or 
 fpr public instruction. 
 
 . V/ith the United States, his correspondence was 
 very extensive. His father had thrice traversed that 
 country in the service of religion, and his brother 
 Samuel had followed his pious example. He was, 
 likewise, visited by the best informed Americans,^ 
 "who happened to cross the Atlantic. By such op- 
 portunities, he acquired an intimate acquaintance with 
 the disposition or the inhabitants, and the qualities of 
 the soil, which enabled him to suggest various im- 
 provements in gardening, rural economy, agriculture 
 and commerce. He also laboured in conjunction 
 with some other persons of humanity, and at length 
 successfully, to abolish the slave trade amongst his 
 brethren of the society of Friends, who to their lasting 
 honour be it spoken, were the first, who, as a public 
 body, pronounced their abhorrence of this infamous 
 and inhuman commerce. No man valued personal 
 liberty with more enthusiasm, and few exerted their 
 influence more strenuously than he to promote the abo- 
 lition oi the African slave trade. But whatever may be 
 the result of the efforts of the humane in other 
 parts of the world, where slavery exists, it is most pro- 
 bable, that it will be continued in the West India isl- 
 ands, under certain restrictions, till the pecuniary inter- 
 est of the Europeans can be diverted to another chan* 
 neL- To effect this Dr. Fothergill suggested the (cultiva- 
 tion of the sugar-cane on the continent of Africa, where 
 it seems to have been indigenous, and that the natives 
 srfould be employed as servants for hire, and not as 
 slaves compelled to labour at the pleasure of <in arbi- 
 trary despot. Various difficulties may, indeed, im- 
 pede the success of so benevolent a scheme ; but, as 
 the friends of humanity are unremitting in their ex- 
 ertions, tbey have no reason to despair of at last at- 
 taining the completion of their wishes. 
 l)fc> Conjunction v/ith the benevolent Mn Howard, 
 
 I 
 
CICTIONARY. 381 
 
 Dr. Fothergill exerted his endeavours to prevent those 
 miseries and diseases, which are produced by human 
 contagion. The Legislature alarmed at- repeated in- 
 stances of infection, which prisoners disseminated in 
 courts of justice, was desirous of receiving the best 
 advice upon the subject ; and Dr. Fothergill, with his 
 friend was ordered to attend the House of Commons, 
 before which they communicated such information as 
 gave rise, in the year 1774, to a bill entitled, " Ar^ 
 act for preserving the health of prisoners in goal, and 
 preventing the goal distemper," and also to a plan for 
 building detached or penitentiary houses, as a mode 
 best calculated to restrain indolence and vice. These 
 two distinguished persons, with George Whatley, Esq. 
 we^e appointed by the king, commissioners for di- 
 recting suitable buildings, to carry into execution this 
 new system of correction. This useful design, how- 
 ever, Dr. Fothergill did not live to see completed. 
 
 At the expence of Dr. Fothergill, was made and 
 printed, an entire new translation of the whole Bible, 
 from the Hebrew and Greek originals, by Anthony 
 Purver, a quaker, in two vols, folio, 1764, and also in 
 1780, an edition of Bishop Piercy's " Key to the New 
 Testament,*' adopted to the use of a seminary of young 
 quakers, at Ack worth, near Leeds, in Yorksliire, found- 
 ed in 1778 by the society, who purchased by a sub- 
 
 : scription, in which Dr. Fothergill stood foremost, the 
 
 , house and an estate of thirty acres, which the Found- 
 ling Hospital held there, but which they found incon- 
 venient for their purpose, on account of distance. The 
 Doctor himself, first projected this on the j)lan of a 
 smaller institution of the same kind at Gildersome. 
 
 I It now contains about three hundred children of both 
 sexes, furnished with all the necessaries and comforts 
 of life, properly clothed and educated in every branch 
 of knowledge, suitable to the station, in which it is 
 
 , presumable they may be placed. ' e ' 
 
 His public benefactions, his eiicouragemefit^ ol 
 science, the influence of his attention to the health. 
 
'i 
 
 382 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 the police, the convenience, 8zc. of the British metro- 
 polls, &c. would require volumes to specify. But not* 
 withstanding his benevolent, philanthropic and truly 
 benevolent dispvjsition he had acquired, by the most 
 honourable means, a fortune amcunting to upwards 
 of 350,030 dollars. 
 
 For a series of years, he enjoyed a good state of 
 health, and time seemed slowly to diminish the vigor 
 of his body, without much weakening the exertions of 
 his mind ; but in 1778, he was first attacked by a- 
 suppression of urine^ which, though frequently reliev-f 
 ed for a time, at last put a period to his existence. 
 Daring his last illness, when labouring under the most 
 acute pain, he endeavored to assume a degree of 
 cheerfulness, which was natural to him when well 
 and described his complaints, and their probable fatal 
 termination, with a pious hope that he /lad not lived 
 in vain, but in a degree to answer the end of the crecb* 
 tion, by sacrificing interes fed considerations, and liisoxvn 
 care to the good of his J cilozv- creatures . Some individu- 
 als might have envied the universal esteem he acquir- 
 ed by his virtues, his manners and skill in healing; 
 but all may envy that comfort of mind, which sus- 
 tained him till his final dissolution, which happened 
 26 December, 178C. 
 
 Of the many examples which might be adduced of 
 Dr. Fothergill's benevolent liberality, wx shall con- 
 clude this memoir with the following, especially as 
 such instances, how ever applauded, are very uncom- 
 mon in the present day. The late Dr. Knight, librari- 
 an of the British museum, whose character was deserv- 
 edly esteemed, by some speculations in mining, rather 
 plausible than productive, became so involved in his 
 circumstances, as to be obliged to apply to those, 
 whom he deemed his friends, for pecuniary support ; 
 but his applications were received with coolness. In 
 this dilemima, he, with great diffidence, made his case 
 known to the Doctor, and told him, what would once 
 more render him a happy man. The answer givcu 
 
DICTIONAllY. 
 
 by the physician of philanthrophy, whose heart never 
 felt for the distress of another, without wishing to re- 
 lieve it, was short but expressive, " I will then make 
 thee happy." We are assured, that the assistance 
 given upon this occasion amounted to 1000 guineas. 
 
 FOX, (John) An English Divine and Church 
 Historian, was born in 1317, the very year that I^u- 
 ther began to oppose the doctrines of the Church of 
 Rome. He discovered in his younger years a geni- 
 us for poetry, and wrote in an elegant style, several 
 Latin comedies, the subjects of which was taken from 
 the scriptures. He afterwards applied himself to di- 
 vinity, and discovered himself in favor of the reforma- 
 tion then in hand, before he was known to those who 
 maintained the cause, or who were of ability to pro- 
 tect the maintainers of it. Gardiner, Bishop of 
 Winchester, determined to have him seized, and laid 
 many snares and stratagems for him ; nevertheless he 
 at length escaped, and got to Basil, in Germany, 
 where numbers of English subjects resorted in those 
 times of persecution. He maintained himself and 
 family in this city by correcting the press, and it was 
 here that he laid the plan of his famous work, enti- 
 tled *' The history of the Acts and Monuments of 
 these bitter and perilous days, touching matters of 
 the church, &;c," or as it is commonly called, " Fox*s 
 Book of Martyrs" Archbishop Whitgift styles Fox 
 a " worthy man," says that he had read over his Acts 
 and Monuments from the one end to the other, and 
 declares, that he hath very diligently and faithfully 
 laboured in this matter, and searched out the truth of 
 it, as learnedly as any man has done. The Catholics, 
 however, were in the mean time much displeased at 
 the publication of this history, which they called 
 " Fox's Golden Legend,'* and represented as a huge 
 collection of notorious falsehoods. 
 
 After Queen Elizabeth was settled on the throne^ 
 
384 NEW BlORAFHtCAE. 
 
 and the Protestant religion well established, he re- 
 tarned to his native country, where the queen confer- 
 red upon him a prebend of the church of Salisbury, 
 though Fox himself would have declined accepting 
 it, and though he had several powerful friends, who 
 would have raised him to considerable preferments, 
 yet he declined them, being always unwilling to sub- 
 scribe the canons and disliking spme ceremonies of 
 th I cl urch. In 1575, he wrote a letter to the queen, 
 dissuading her from putting to death two Baptists 
 who had been condemned to be burnt for their 
 opinions; but though the queen in general paid 
 great deference to Mr. Fox, yet she could by no 
 means be prevailed on to save their lives, unless they 
 recanted. This ihey would not do; they were, there- 
 fore, burnt in Smithfield to the great disgrace of Queen 
 Elizabeth's reign. 
 
 Besides what we have already mentioned Mr. Fox 
 wrote a number of books, principally levelled against 
 the catholics, the titles of which it will be unnecessary 
 for us to mention. He died in i575. 
 
 FOX, (George) the founder of the sect of Eng- 
 lish Quakers was born at Fenny Drayton, a village in 
 Leicestershire, about the year i625. He was brought 
 up a shoe-maker and for a long time followed his 
 trade at Nottingham. He was a man of a very serious 
 disposition, and while engaged at his work, was gen- 
 erally employed in meditating upon the sacred scrip- 
 tures. He, at length, in the year 1649, commenced 
 preacher, and was the founder of a sect, which, in 
 the discharge of all the great duties of morality, are 
 entitled to the highest commendation. 
 
 In giving an account of the circumstances, which 
 led to the origin of this new sect, it will be best to use 
 their own words — *' The beginning of the seventeenth 
 century is known to have been a time of great dis- 
 sention in England respecting religion. Many pious 
 persons had been dissatisfied with the settlement of 
 
'•'feiCTicnTAsY.'' SS5 
 
 the 'Q}/iufch b( 'Enfhh'd'in the reign orCiueen ^Eliza- 
 beth. Various societies of dissenters had accordingly 
 arisenvsomeof whom evinced their sincerity by griev- 
 ous sufferings under the intolerance of those, who 
 governed church affairs. But these societies, notwith- 
 standing their honest zeal, seemed to have stopped 
 short in their progress towards a complete reformati-^ 
 on| ; and, degenerating into formality, to have left their 
 most enlightened members to lament the want of 
 something more instructive and consolatory to the 
 soul, than the most rigorous observance of their or- 
 dinances had ever produced. Thus dissatisfied and. 
 disconsolate, they were ready to follow any teacher, 
 who seemed able to direct them to that light and 
 peace of which they felt in need. Many such in suc- 
 cession engaged their attention ; until finding the in- 
 sufficiency ot them all, they withdrew from the com- 
 munion of every visible church, and dwelt retired, 
 and attentive to the inward state of their own minds: 
 often deeply distressed for the want of that true know- 
 ledge of God, which they saw to be necessary for 
 salvation, and for which, according to their ability, 
 they fervently prayed. These sincere breathings of 
 spirit being answered by the extension of some degree 
 of heavenly consolation, they became convinced, that 
 as the heart of man is the scene of the tempter's at- 
 tacks, it must also be that of the redeemer's victory. 
 
 With reverend fervency, therefore, they sought his 
 appearance in their minds, and thus being renewedly 
 furnished with his saving light and help, they not only 
 became instructed in the things pertaining to their 
 own salvation, but they discovered many practices ia 
 the world, which have a shew of religion, to be never- 
 theless, the unsubjected will of man, and inconsistent 
 with the genuine simplicity of the truth." 
 
 Mr. Besse, ii,i his sufferings of the people called 
 Quakers, says, " George Fox was one of the first of 
 
 t Penn, Vol. 5, Pa^e 21I, 212., Ed. 178X, 
 
 Vol. II. No, i5, C3 
 
86 HEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 1 
 
 our friends, who was imprisoned. He was confined 
 at Nottingham in the year 1649, for having publicly 
 opposed a preacher, who had asserted that the more 
 sure word of prophecy, mentioned 2 Pet. 1, 19, w^as the 
 scriptures, George Fox declaring, that it was the 
 Holy Spirit ; and in the following year, being brought 
 before two justices in Derbyshire, one of them scof- 
 fing at George Fox, for having bidden him and those 
 about him, tremble at the word of the Lord, gave to 
 our predecessors the name of Quakers^ an appellation 
 which soon became and hath remained our most usual 
 denomination, but they themselves adopted and have 
 transmitted to us, the endearing appellation of 
 Friends'' 
 
 Mr. Fox proposed but few articles of fath, insisting 
 chiefly on moral virtues, mutual charity, the love of God 
 and a deep attention to the inward motions and secret 
 operations of the spirit: he required a plain, simple 
 worship and a religion without ceremonies, making 
 it a principal point to wait in profound silence the 
 directions of the Holy Spirit. He met with much 
 rough treatment for his zeal, was often imprisoned, 
 and several times in danger of being knocked on the 
 head ; but, notwithstanding all discouragements, his 
 sect prevailed much, and many considerable men were 
 drawn over to them among whom were the celebrated 
 Robert Barclay and William Penn. 
 
 We shall conclude our account of George Fox, by 
 observing, that though it has too long been the custom 
 of some to ridicule, what they call, the inflated feelings, 
 the starched affectation and unaccommodating man- 
 ners of his followers ; yet their general purity of 
 manners, and universal philanthrophy ; their abhor- 
 rence of the destructive practice of war, the infamous 
 trafi^x of slaves and religious persecution ; their quiet, 
 inoffensive deportment, and conscientious discharge 
 of the duties of private life, have not failed to concili- 
 ate the good will of the sober part of the community. 
 Mr, Fox died in the year 1681. 
 
DICTIONARY. 387 
 
 FRANKLIN, (Benjamin) the American states- 
 man and philosopher, was born in Boston, Massachu- 
 setts, January 17th, 1706: His father Josiah, who 
 was a native of Nottinghamshire, England, finding 
 himself subjected to various hardships, on account of 
 his attachment to the religious opinions of the Non- 
 conformists, quitted his native country together with 
 his wife and three children, and about the year 1682, 
 found an asylum from persecution in New-England. 
 The trade, to which he had been brought up, was that 
 of a dyer ; but finding it very unprofitable in this 
 country, he soon after his arrival took up that of a tal- 
 low chandler. By his first wife he had seven children ; 
 and by the second ten, of whom Benjamin, the sub- 
 ject of this article, was the eighth 
 
 In the account which Dr. Franklin gives of his fa- 
 ther, he represents him as a pious, prudent and inge- 
 nious man, endowed with a good mechanical genius, 
 and capable, on occasion, of using the tools of other 
 workmen with great dexterity. He also possessed a 
 sound understanding and solid judgment, and was 
 universally esteemed by his neighbours as a man of 
 great probity and discernment. His mother was a 
 virtuous and discreet woman, who united her best en- 
 deavours with her husband, to improve and form the 
 minds ot their children, and to make them useful and 
 virtuous members of society. Such were the parents, 
 such the instructors, to whom the w&rld was indebt- 
 ed for this benefactor of the human race ; for from 
 them, he, in his younger years, imbibed those prin- 
 ciples of moral rectitude, and that aversion from arbi- 
 trary power, for which, through the whole of a long 
 life, he afterwards became so eminently conspicuous. 
 
 Young Franklin, having been early designed for the 
 ministry, was, at the age of eight years, sent to the 
 grammar-school of Boston, from which, notwithstand- 
 standing his uncommon progress in the latin languap-e, 
 he waij removed at the end of one year^to a schoolfoi:- 
 
S88 KEW BIORAPHICAL 
 
 § 
 
 writing and arithmetic ; his father considering, that, 
 with his large family, he could ill afford the expences 
 of a liberal education, and that persons so educated 
 were often but poorly provided for. 
 
 At the age of ten, Franklin was taken fronnr 
 school, and,, for some time, employed by his father, 
 to assist him in his business. The trade of a tallow- 
 chandler was, however, the object of his aversion ; 
 and as his dislike continued to encrease, his father 
 apprehensive, lest he should run off to sea, for to that 
 kind of life he had evinced a great predilection, en- 
 deavoured to fix his inclinations on land, by taking 
 him to the shops of different artificers. Hence he ac- 
 quired a fondness for seeing good workmen employed 
 at their business, and was enabled to construct ma- 
 chines for his experiments, which, it would have been 
 extremely difficult for the best mechanics to finish 
 exactly according to his vi^ishes. I'he trade of a cut- 
 ler, was at last fixed for Franklin i but some disagree- 
 jment arising about a fee, determined his father to re- 
 linquish his intention. 
 
 He had early discovered a great fondness for readings 
 and regularly expended what little money he could 
 procure, in the purchase of books. His father ob- 
 serving this propensity, at last resolved to make him 
 a printer, and he accordingly bound him as an ap- 
 prentice to his brother James, at the age of 12 years. 
 He soon made great proficiency in the business and 
 found himself extremely happy, as he was enabled to 
 gratify his favorite inclination for reading, by borrow- 
 ing books from the apprentices of book-sellers, with 
 whom he become acquainted. Franklin now wrote 
 several little poetical pieces, and his brother thinking 
 that this talent might be turned to advantage, persua- 
 ded him to write two ballads ; one of which was call- 
 ed the Liglit'Housc Tragedy, and was founded on 
 a melancholy accident,vvhich had lately happened, 
 viz. the drowning of Captain Worthilake and his two 
 daughters 3 and the other asaiior song, on the capture 
 
DICTIONARY. 2i^9 
 
 of Te?ich or Blackbeard^ the noted pirate. Although 
 it is probable, that these first productions of our au- 
 thor niight afford no presage of his future greatness, 
 yet a perusal of them would be highly satisfactory. 
 They are now, however, no where to be found. Dr, 
 Franklin himself used to say, that they were wretched 
 stuff, in the style of Grub-street ballads. However 
 this may be, they were read with great avidity, and 
 much applauded. This raised the vanity of our young 
 author, and he probably would have gone on in the 
 service of the muses, had not his father, by criticising 
 his performances, and shevving him the unprofitable- 
 ness of poetry, turned his thoughts to pursuits, which, 
 though less pleasing, enabled him to render services 
 to mankind of a m.cre essential and permanent nature. 
 About this time, our author had formed an intimate 
 acquaintance wih a lad named John Collins, who 
 was, like himself, remarkably fond of reading. For 
 the sake of mutual improvement, it was usual for 
 these two friends to dispute upon various subjects. 
 At last a topic was started, which produced a longer 
 discussion than usual; and as they parted without de- 
 termining the point, and business not permitting them 
 to see each other frequently, Fianklin committed his 
 arguments to writing and sent them to Collins, who 
 replied in the same way. Several letters had passed 
 between them, when the papers fell into the hands of 
 Franklin's father, who, without entering into the mer- 
 its of the cause, took occasion to point out to his son, 
 that^ though he excelled his antagonist in orthography 
 and punctuation, he was much interior to him ip ele- 
 gance of expression, arrangement and perspicuity. 
 Convinced of the justice of his father's remarks, he de- 
 termined to improve his manner of writing. Fortu- 
 nately the third volume of the Spectator tell in his 
 way; and as the style appeared to him to be excel- 
 lent, he resolved to imitate it. His method of doing 
 this was crowned with the desired success: we there- 
 fore conceive it may be useful, at least to our young 
 
S90 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 readers, if we communicate it. After reading a paper 
 over, he took short notes of the sentiments. These 
 he laid by for a few days, and then without open- 
 ing the book endeavoured to complete the paper, by 
 expressing the sentiments at length. Finding himself 
 sometimes at a loss for words, he thought he might 
 remedy that deficiency, by again having recourse to 
 making verses, in which the constant want of words 
 of the same import, but of different length and sound 
 to suit the rhyme, obliges a person to seek for a varie- 
 ty of vv'ords, and to impress this variety upon the mind. 
 He accordingly turned some of the tales of the Spec- 
 tators into verse, and after some time into prose again. 
 He sometimes threw his hints into a confused, state, 
 and, after a few weeks, endeavored to reduce them to 
 order. He thus acquired a method of expressing his 
 thoughts ; and by comparing his composition with the 
 original, was enabled to correct any inacuracy in the 
 style or rirrangement. Sometimes, he conceived, that, 
 in a few instances, he had improved upon the lan- 
 guage and method of the original, and this encourag- 
 ed him to persevere in his attempts to be a fine wri- 
 ter. The world knows how completely he succeed- 
 ed, and from this account, we may not only learn how 
 he acquired that beautiful and unadorned simplicity 
 of style,, which so remarkably characterizes all his wri- 
 tings, but also, what steps others, (particularly such as 
 have not the means of obtaining a systematic educa- 
 tion,) should pursue, to acquire a degree of literary emi- 
 nence. 
 
 Every moment of time, which Franklin could spare 
 from the duties of his profession, was entirely devo- 
 ted to study. Often did the silent midnight hour 
 bear witness to his labours, and when obliged to return 
 a book early in the morning, his eyes remained stran- 
 gers to sleep daring the night. When he was about 
 sixteen years of age, from the perusal of a perform- 
 ance of Tryon, he was persuaded of the superior ad- 
 vantages of a vegetable diet, and determined to adopt 
 
DICTIONARY. 291 
 
 the practice. As this could not easily be done in the 
 family in which he boarded, he agreed with his bro- 
 ther to board himself for halt the price ; and such was 
 his frugality and temperance, that he even saved half 
 that sum for the purpose of buying books. As his 
 morsel was quickly dispatched, he was enabled to 
 devote a great part of that time to study, which the 
 other workmen spent at their meals; and his slight 
 repast was, likewise, more favorable to mental pur- 
 suits. 
 
 Franklin, at an early period, had an opportunity of 
 bringing into use, those treasures of knowledge, which 
 he. had thus accumulated. Before the year 1720, 
 there wasonly one news-paper, the Boston News-Let- 
 ter, in North America, although they are now to be 
 found in every town or village of any note. About 
 this time, his brother began to publish the New-Eng- 
 land Courant, and in this he was assisted by a number 
 of literary characters, who occasionally wrote essays 
 for the papers, w^hich were much approved. Benja- 
 min felt a strong inclination to become an author. He 
 wrote a small piece, and apprehensive, that, if known 
 to be his, it would be rejected, he disguised his hand, 
 and conveyed it under the door of the printing-office. 
 Judge, ye, who have been authors, what must have 
 been his sensations, when he found his performance 
 honoured with the most liberal applause, and attri- 
 buted to several men of eminent literary abilities. 
 This approbation encouraged him to go on, and he 
 wrote several other pieces, which were equally well 
 received. He, at length, avowed himself to be the 
 author, and thus obtained the notice of his brother's 
 literary friends, who, from that time, conversed with 
 him with more freedom and attention. 
 
 About the year 1723, some political essays in the 
 New-England Courant, gave offence to the Assembly ; 
 and as the printer would not discover the authors, he 
 was committed to prison for one month. An order, at 
 the same time, passed the house, that James Franklin 
 
S92 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 should no longer print the New England Courant. 
 Various expedients were proposed to evade the order; 
 but it was at length determined, that it should be con- 
 ducted under the name of Benjamin Franklin. As he 
 was still an apprentice, and the censure of the Legis- 
 lature might, therefore, fall upon his brother, his in- 
 dentures were delivered up : but as the brother was 
 still desirous to retain his services, he obliged him to 
 sign a private agreement, by which he was bound 
 to remain with him the time first stipulated. A few 
 months after, a quarrel arose between the two brothers, 
 which, as all attempts to reconcile them proved abor- 
 tive, determined Benjamin to leave his service ; and 
 as he was prevented, by the exertions of his brother, 
 from procuring work in Boston, he was under the 
 necessity of leaving his native town, and accordingly 
 set out for New York. 
 
 Meeting with no encouragement in that city, he 
 proceeded to Philadelphia, travelling partly by water, 
 and fifty miles by land on foct, through rain and dirt, 
 suspected and in danger of being taken up as a runa- 
 way servant. He arrived there on a Sundav morning, | 
 in a very dirty condition, in the clothes, in which he * 
 had travelled from New- York, weary and hungry, 
 having, for some time, been without rest and food, a 
 perfect stranger to every body and his whole stock of 
 cash consisting only of a Dutch dollar. At a baker^s 
 shop, he purchased some rolls, and as his pockets, 
 being filled with clothes, could not contain them, 
 he put one under each arm and eating a third, walked 
 along through several of the streets, in quest of a lodg- 
 ing, which he at last found at a tavern in Water street, 
 still well known by the name of the Crooked billet. 
 Such was the entry of Benjamin Franklin into the city 
 of Philadelphia. From such beginning, did he rise 
 to the highest eminence, and respectability not only 
 in America, but amongst all civilized nations. 
 
 There were, at that time, only two printers in Phi- 
 ladelphia, viz. Mr, Andrew Bradford, and a Mr. 
 
DlCtlONARY. S9S 
 
 Keimer ; the former of whom received our adventurer 
 with great civility ; but having no occasion for his 
 services, recommended him to the latter, by whom 
 he was soon after employed. Franklin, for some 
 time, lodged at Bradford's, bat as this was not agree- 
 able to Keimer, he procured him a lodging at th^ 
 house of a Mr. Read, \^hose daughter was afterwards 
 Mrs. Franklin. 
 
 The steadiness, skill, activity and communicative 
 manner of our adventurer attracted the notice of 
 many of the most eminent people in the city, particu- 
 larly of Sir William Keith, who was at that time go- 
 vernor of the province. This gentleman often invited 
 Franklin to his house, where he treated him in the 
 most friendly manner. He, at last, advised him to 
 enter into business for himself ; insisted on the favour- 
 able prospects, which were before him, as the two 
 printers were very ignorant of their profession, and 
 promised to assist him with all his influence. Such 
 observations frequently repeated induced Franklin, 
 after an absence of about seven months, to return to 
 Boston, in order that he might consult with his father 
 to whom he likewise carried a letter from the gover- 
 nor, giving the most favourable account of his good 
 conduct and behaviour. The old gentleman, thinking 
 it too adventurous to set up a lad of eighteen years as 
 a master printer, by no means relished the project. — 
 He accordingly advised his son to return to Philadel- 
 phia, and work as a journeyman, until he was of age, 
 at which time he would endeavor to assist him. Frank- 
 lin saw the propriety of his father's counsel, and there- 
 fore, after a short stay, returned to Philadelphia, where 
 he immediately went to work, with his usual cheer- 
 fulness and diligence. 
 
 Franklin's fondness for reading and thirst for im- 
 provement did not forsake him whe.n he left Boston. 
 He soon formed an acquaintance with several young 
 men of a studious disposition, whom he formed into a 
 sort of literary association, which met at certain peri- 
 
 Vol. 11. No. 15. D3 
 
394 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 ods, for the purpose of communicating to each pfher 
 their little compositions ; and as each member was 
 freely permitted to comment and criticise on the se- 
 veral productions which were laid before them, it af- 
 forded them an excellent opportunity both for enter- 
 tainment and instruction. 
 
 In the mean time, Sir William Keith still professed 
 a great regard for Franklin ; blamed his father for 
 what he called unnecessary caution ; as a proof of his 
 friendship desired to be furnished w^ith an inventory of 
 what was needful in a printing-office and expressed 
 his intention of procuring them from England, and 
 cnabitng our young printer to enter into business for 
 himself : he at last enquired of Franklin, whether it 
 would not be of consequence, that he himself should 
 visit England, to make the purchase. To this Frank- 
 Jin readily assented and took a passage in the only 
 vessel, which then regularly sailed between London 
 and Philadelphia. Keith had, likewise, professed, 
 that he would give him letters of recommendation 
 which would enable him to purchase every thing ne- 
 cessary. 
 
 After various delays the governor*s dispatches ar- 
 rived on board the ship at Nev^-Castle, and Franklin 
 supposing his letters were amongst them,, remained 
 satisfied for the present. On their entrance into the 
 British Channel, he picked out several letters, which 
 he supposed, from the directions, to be his letters of 
 recommendation ; but how cruelly was he disappoint- 
 ed, to find upon his arrival in London, that not one 
 had been written in his favour. The truth is, he had 
 been trusting to a man, in whom no one, who knew 
 him placed any confidence ; a man, who v\ as liberal 
 of promises, but had not wherewith to fulfil them. — 
 Here was our young printer again in a strange place, 
 unacquainted with every body and left to take care of 
 himself at the age of nineteen years, but being now 
 well acquainted with his business, he soon found 
 employment as a journeyman with Mr. Palmer, 
 
DICTIONARY. 3g*5 
 
 an eminent printer, with whom he wrought sometime 
 at press and afterwards as compositor. 
 
 After about twelve months stay, he quitted Mr, 
 Palmer and was engaged by Mr. Watts, another 
 eminent printer, with whom 'he continued during the 
 remainder of his stay in London. 
 
 He was uncommonly industrious, frugal and regu- 
 lar in his deportment, while he worked as a journey- 
 man 3 and, at the same time, that he acquired a great 
 ascendancy over his fellow workmen, had, in a very 
 high degree, the favour and affection of his two em- 
 ployers. 
 
 ' We ought to have mentioned before now, that, for 
 some time, prior to his departure from Philadelphia, 
 he had paid his addresses to Miss Read, whom he 
 afterwards married. Her mother had opposed their 
 union, not conceiving their prospects to be quite so 
 favourable as they appeared to him. Notwithstand- 
 ing which when preparing to embark, they had 
 Hautually plighted their faith to each other. 
 
 During his stay in London, he conceived an idea of 
 travelling with a friend one Wyngate, over Europe, 
 on foot, and supporting himself by his business. — 
 From this scheme, which, had it been carried into 
 execution, might have deprived society of most of the 
 benefits, which have resulted from this great man's 
 labours, he was fortunately dissuaded by an Ameri- 
 can gentleman of the name cf Denham, who was 
 then on the point of returning to Philadelphia, and 
 offered him fifty pounds sterling per annum to keep 
 his books, 8»lc, lo this he acceded and after a stay of 
 eighteen months bid farewell to London. He sailed 
 from Gravesend, the 23d. of July, 1726, and landed 
 in Philadelphia, ihe 1 1th of October following. 
 
 His prospects were now flattering ; as his employ- 
 ment under Mr. Denham, who proposed to send him 
 to the" West Lndies, as supercargo, and to procure him 
 commissions, bid fair to advance him gradually to an 
 independent situation, but the death of that gentle- 
 
S96 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL- 
 
 man, which happened in the spring of 1727, entirely 
 blasted these expectations. He now encjpavoured to 
 procure employment as a merchant's clerk, but not suc- 
 ceeding, he once more engaged withKeimer, who had 
 several ignorant journeymen to instruct, and who seized 
 the opportunity of procuring a person, who was capa- 
 ble of perfecting them in their business. From Keimer, 
 he got high wages; and lived on good terms with him, 
 till his assistance became less necessary, as the other 
 workmen had grown more skilful. When Keimer 
 found this, he altered his conduct and treated him 
 with great coolness and austerity, which brought on a 
 quarrel between them, in consequence of which they 
 parted : But Keimer soon after wanting his assistance 
 made concessions and the agreement was renewed. 
 
 Meredith, one of Keimer's journeymen, whose fa- 
 ther was possessed of some property, proposed to pro- 
 cure from him money sufficient to purchase printing 
 materials, and to enter into partnership with Mr. 
 Franklin. The types and press were soon after pro- 
 cured, when they began business with tolerable suc- 
 cess. Meredith was an idle, dissolute fellow, whilst 
 Franklin, on the other hand, was one of the yost in- 
 dustrious men in the province. Meredith's father, 
 had, likewise, paid but in part for the materials and 
 had entered into engagements to pay the remainder 
 at a future day. But when that day came, he found 
 it impossible to fulfil his engagements : hence the 
 partners were, for some time, in a very precarious 
 situation. Meredith, at length, made Mr. Franklin 
 an offer of resigning the business to him, provided he 
 would repay his father and give himself a small sum 
 to defray his expences to North Carolina, with which 
 terms, Franklin was enabled to comply, by the kind 
 assistance of two worthy friends, and thus became sole 
 master of the stock in trade, &c. 
 
 Keimer had before this set up a paper ; but having 
 conducted it in a wretched manner, had met with 
 little encouragemeat, He offered it to Franklin for a 
 
DICTIONARY. 397 
 
 triflle ; the terms were agreed to, and the paper was 
 afterwards conducted in such a superior style, that it 
 soon became an object of great imoortance. 
 
 On the 1st September, 1730, Mr. Franklin was 
 married to Miss Read, who proved a valuable and af- 
 fectionate wife. Her assistance and attention to bu- 
 siness, made affairs proceed more prosperously ; and 
 they gradually became easy and independent in their 
 circumstances. 
 
 Poor Richard's almanack, which had such a saluta- 
 ry effect on the morals and conduct of the Pennsylva- 
 nians, by the maxims of frugality, temperance, indus^, 
 try and integrity, which it inculcated, was begun by 
 Mr. Franklin in 1732, and continued by him for about 
 twenty-five years. So great was its reputation, that 
 he even then sold about ten thousand s.r.nua]ly. The 
 whole of the maxims were collected together in the 
 form of an address, and published In the last one. This 
 address has been translated into various languages 
 and every where received with approbation. 
 
 Mr. Franklin's first advancement in public life, was 
 in 1736, when he was chosen clerk of the general as- 
 sembly^of the province, in which office he continued" 
 for several years. In 1737, he was appointed post- 
 master in Philadelphia, which gave him considerable 
 advantages as the printer of a newspaper. 
 
 About this time, his patriotic mind ever intent on the 
 promotion of public good, projected a reform in the re- 
 gulations of the watchmen of Philadelphia, and a plan 
 of a fire company. This latter was the source of the 
 numerous fire-companies in this country, which have 
 been found of such great benefit in preventing the de- 
 structive ravages of that element. 
 
 Dr. Franklin planned, and was the principal instru- 
 ment in the establishment of the academy of Philadel- 
 phia, from which has sprung the university of Pennsyl- 
 vania, and to him, likewiie, the Philadelphia library, 
 which is now by far the most respectable in the Unit- 
 ed States, owes its origin. 
 
39S NEW BIOGRAPHICAL "^ 
 
 In 1747, he was chosen a representative in the as^ 
 sembly for the city of Philadelphia. This honour was 
 repeatedly conferred on him for ten years, without his 
 ever having solicited a vote, or having directly or indi- 
 rectly expressed a wish to be chosen. In this sta- 
 tion, he was, perhaps, the most useful legislator, that 
 ever sat in that or any other house of assembly. On 
 every business of importance, his presence was al« 
 "ways considered as indispensible. In the long con- 
 tests betv^^een the proprietaries and their governors, he 
 took the most active part. He drew up, nearly all the 
 messages and replies to the governors, which display- 
 ed a firm spirit of liberty, and a profound knowledge 
 of the rights of the people. He, likewise, originated 
 many of the most salutary laws passed in the province 
 during that time. 
 
 In 1752, Dr. Bond projected the plan of the Penn- 
 sylvania hospital and made every exertion to procure 
 subscriptions for it ; but the business proceeded very 
 languidly until he applied to Mr. Franklin for assist- 
 ance. He employed the newspaper in its favour, and 
 moreover, made use of his personal influence to in- 
 crease t(ie fund. The success, in consequence, was 
 considerable; but not sufficient to enable them to 
 carry the plan into execution. Mr. Franklin then ap- 
 plied to the assembly ; and prepared a bill which de- 
 clared, that when the voluntary subscriptions should 
 amount to two thousand pounds, the speaker of the 
 assembly should be empowered to draw an order on 
 the treasurer of the province for two thousand pounds 
 more to enable the trustees to erect the hospital. — 
 Those members, who were opposed to the plan, 
 thinking it impossible to raise the stipulated sum, 
 ceased their opposition and the bill passed. This very 
 clause, which they imagined would prevent the ope- 
 ration of the bill, eventually proved the strongest in- 
 ducem^ent to an encrease of subscribers, as every 
 person interested in the success of the scheme, was 
 
DICTIONARY. S99 
 
 Stimulated to encrease his effort, in order to secu^*e the 
 assembly's donation. 
 
 But whilst Franklin Vv^as thus active in devising and 
 carrying plans into effect, so highly beneficial to his 
 country, he was very attentive to his business as a 
 printer, and, likewise, found leisure to devote some 
 part ot his time to the investigation of those great dis- 
 coveries in science, which have since associated his 
 name with that of the immortal Newton. The Ley- 
 den experiment in electricity, having rendered that 
 science, an object of general curiosity, Mr. Franklin 
 applied himself to it, with great assiduity, in conse- 
 quence of which his fame as an electrician was soon 
 spread over all Europe. The greatest discovery, which 
 he made in that science, and which has been of the 
 greatest practical use to mankind was that of the per- 
 fect similarity between electrical fire and lightning. 
 He begins his account of that similarity by cautioning 
 his readers against being staggered at the great dif- 
 ference of the effects of the electric fluid and light- 
 ning, in point of degree, since that is no argument of 
 any disparity in their nature. " It is no wonder,** 
 says he, *^ if the effects of the one should be much 
 greater than those of the other, for if two gun barrels 
 electrified will strike at two inches distance, and 
 make a loud report, at how great a distance will 
 10,000 acres of electric cloud strike and give its fire 
 and how loud must be that crack !'* 
 
 To demonstrate, in the completest manner possible, 
 the sameness of the electric fluid with the matter of 
 lightning, Mr. Franklin, astonishing as it must then 
 have appeared, contrived actually to bring lightning 
 from the heavens by means of an electrical kite, which 
 he raised when a storm of thunder was observed to 
 be coming on. This kite had a pointed wire fixed 
 on it, by which it drew the lightning from the clouds. 
 This lightning descended by the hempen string, and 
 was received by a key tied to the extremity of it, that 
 part of thQ string which was held in his hand being 
 
4:00 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 of silk, that the electric virtue might stop, when It 
 came to the key. He found that the string would con- 
 duct electricity, when nearly dry — but when it was 
 wet, that it would conduct it quite freely, so that it 
 would stream out plentifully from the key and at the 
 approach of a person's finger. At this key he charged 
 phials ; and from electric fire thus obtained, kindled 
 spirits and performed all other electrical experiments, 
 which are usually exhibited by an excited globe or tube. 
 
 Besides the kite, Alf. Franklin had afterwards an 
 insulated rod to draw the lightning into his house, in 
 order to make experiments, whenever there should 
 be a considerable quantity of it in the atmosphere, and 
 that he might lose no opportunity of that nature, he 
 connected two bells with this apparatus, which gave 
 him notice by their ringing, whenever the rod was 
 electrified. 
 
 The grand practical uses, which he made of this 
 discovery of the sameness of electricity and lightning, 
 w^as to prevent buildings from being damaged by 
 lightning. This he accomplished by fixing a metal- 
 line rod higher than any part of the building and com- 
 nvunicating with the ground, or rather the nearest^ 
 water. The lightning is sure to seize upon the wire, 
 preferably to any other part of the building, whereby 
 that dangerous power is safely conducted to the earth, 
 without doing any harm to the edifice. 
 
 j\Ir. Franklin's theory of positive and negative elec- 
 tricity, received also the sanction of public approba- 
 tion. Flis theories, however, were at first opposed by 
 the members of the Royal Society in London ; but in 
 1755, they voted him the geld medal, which is annu- 
 ally given to the person, who presents a memoir on the 
 most interesting subject. Fie was likewise admitted 
 a member of the society, and soon after lionored with- 
 the degree of Doctor of Laws from the Universities 
 of St. Andrew's in Scotland, and Oxford in England. 
 
 In 1754, he was appointed one of the comniission- 
 ers from Pennsylvania, to L-:tend at the celebrated Al- 
 
PICTIOJJARY. iO\ 
 
 bany congress, in order to devise a plan for defending 
 the country against the French, with whom a war was 
 apprehended. Here he drew up his " Albany plant 
 of union," which, with some slight alterations, was 
 unanimously agreed to by congress, and copies order- 
 ed to be transmitted to the board of trade in England 
 and to the assemblies of the different provinces. But 
 what was rather singular, it was rejected on both sides 
 of the Atlantic ; by the board of trade as too demo- 
 cratic, and by the assemblies as too favourable to pre- 
 rogative. This is, perhaps, the strongest proof of the 
 justice of the plan, which, had it been carried into ex- 
 ecution, would, in all probability, have prevented the 
 desolation caused by the late war ; as it would have 
 entirely removed the original cause of complaint on 
 both sides. 
 
 Higher employment, however, at length called him 
 from his country, which he was destined to serve more 
 effectually as its agent in England, whither he was first 
 sent, in that capacity, in the year 1757 ; and having 
 completed the business of his appointment, he returned 
 to Philadelphia in 1762, where he received the fullest: 
 thanks, not only from his fellow-citizens in general, 
 but also from the legislature. 
 
 The disputes between the assembly of Pennsylvania 
 and the proprietaries, which had, for some time, ap- 
 peared to be calmed, were early in 1764 again re- 
 vived, and carried on with such obstinacy, that the as- 
 sembly finally came to a resolution against continuing 
 under a proprietary government, and sent Dr. Frank- 
 lin to England, with a petition to have a new form es- 
 tablished, and to be taken under the royal protection. 
 But after a long negociation, there was a kind of com- 
 promise agreed upon, which, for a while, appeased 
 the assembly. 
 
 During his residence in England, at this period, he 
 was honored with agencies from the colonies of New- 
 Jersey, Georgia and Massachusetts. 
 
 In 1766, he travelled into Germany, and in 1767 
 
 Vol. II. No, 15. E 3 
 
402 KEW BIOGRAPHICAL. 
 
 into France; and wherever he made his appearance, 
 he was received with the highest degree of respect 
 and veneration. He was introduced to the kings of 
 France and Denmark, and to most of the Hterary cha- 
 racters of the former kingdom. About this time, he 
 re-printed his philosophical papers, with many in> 
 portant additions ; nor could any thing exceed the 
 approbation, with which they were received. 
 
 While the stamp-act was under consideration, he 
 clearly foresaw the consequences which were to be 
 dreaded from it, and took every possible step to pre- 
 vent its enaction ; but in vain. Afterwards, when the 
 opposition to it in this country was such, as to embar- 
 rass and confound the ministry, an alteration was de- 
 termined upon. And in order to enable parliament 
 to ascertain how far they might proceed with safety, 
 he was, in the year 1766, called to the bar of the 
 House of Commons, where he underwent that famous 
 interrogatory, which placed the name of Franklin as 
 'high in politics, as it was before in natural philosophy. 
 
 From that time, he defended the cause of America 
 with a firmness and moderation becoming a great 
 man, pointing out to ministry all the errors they had 
 committed, and the consequences they would induce, 
 till the period when the tax on tea meeting the same 
 opposition as the stamp-act had done, England blind- 
 ly fancied herself capable of subjecting by force three 
 millions of men determined to be free, at the distance 
 of upwards of 3000 miles. 
 
 He then, finding all efforts to restore harmony 
 between Great Britain and her colonies fruitless, 
 returned to America, in the year 1775, just after 
 the commencement of hostilities, and had the satisfac- 
 tion to find, that his-public services met with the most 
 flattering reward, that a patriot can possibly desire — 
 4he unbounded applause and admiration of his coun- 
 trymen. He was immediately elected a mernber of 
 congress, and sent to the camp before Boston, in order 
 to convey to the officers and others, a clear idea of th 
 
 1 
 
BICTIONARYo 402 
 
 state of parties in England, and the necessity of deci- 
 sive measures, to preserve the rights of the united cO' 
 lonies. 
 
 Ill 1776, he was elected a member of a committee 
 of Congress, appointed to wait on Lord Howe, and 
 enquire into the extent of some powers, which his 
 lordship had told them he was invested with, to treat 
 for the restoration of peace. The other members of 
 this committee were John Adams, the late President 
 of the United States and Edward Rutledge. On their 
 return to Congress, they reported that the powers 
 possessed by lord Howe, appeared, on investigation, 
 to be only those of granting pardons, with such excep- 
 tions as he and his brother, the general, might think 
 proper to make; and of declaring America, or any 
 part of it, to be in the king's peace, on submission. 
 Lord Howe having expressed his concern, at being 
 obliged to distress those whom he so much regarded. 
 Dr. Franklin assured him, that the Americans out of a 
 reciprocal regard, would endeavour to lessen, as much 
 as possible, the pain he might feel on their account, 
 by taking the utmost care of themselves. 
 
 The momentous question of independence was 
 soon after brought into view, at a time when the fleets 
 and armies, which were sent to enforce obedience, 
 were truly formidable. With an army numerous in- 
 deed, but ignorant of discipline and entirely unskill- 
 ed in the art of war, without money, without a fleet, 
 without allies, and with nothing but the love of liber- 
 ty to support them, the colonists determined to sepa- 
 rate from a country, from v*^hich they had experienced 
 a repetition of injury and insult. In this question^ 
 Dr. Franklin was decidedly in favour of the measure 
 proposed, and had great influence in bringing over 
 others to his sentiments. 
 
 In the convention, which assembled in Philadel- 
 phia, in 1776, for the purpose of establishing anew 
 form of government for the state of Pennsylvania, Dr. 
 Franklin was chosen president. The late constitutioa 
 
404 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 of that state, which was the result of their delibera- 
 tions, may be considered as a digest of his principles 
 of government. The single legislature, and Jhe plural 
 executive, seem to have been his favourite tenets. 
 
 In the latter end of the same year, congress sensi- 
 ble how much Dr. Franklin was esteemed in France^ 
 sent him thither to put a finishing hand to the private 
 negociations of Mr. Silas Deane ; and this important' 
 commission was readily accepted by the Doctor^ 
 though then in the 71st year of his age. The event 
 is well known : a treaty of alliance and commerce 
 was signed between France and America, 6th Febru- 
 ary, 1778 ; and M. le Roy asserts, that the doctor had 
 a great share in the transaction, by strongly advising 
 the French minister not to lose a single moment, if he 
 wished to secure the- friendship of America, and to 
 detach it from the mother country. Dr. Franklin 
 also completed a treaty of amity and commerce with 
 Sweden, and greatly assisted the negociations of Mr. 
 Adams in Holland. 
 
 Having, at last, seen the accomplishment of his 
 wishes, by the conclusion of the peace in 1783, which 
 confirmed the independence of America, he became 
 desirous of revisiting his native country. He, there- 
 fore, requested to be recalled, and, after repeated so- 
 licitations, Mr. Jefferson,- now President of the Uni- 
 ted States, was appointed to succeed him. On the 
 arrival of his successor, he repaired to Havre de Grace, 
 and crossing the channel, landed on the Isle of Wight ; 
 and sailing again almost immediately, arrived after a 
 favourable passage, at Philadelphia, in September 
 1785. He was received amidst the acclamation of a 
 vast multitude, who flocked from all parts to see him, 
 and who conducted him in triumph to his own house. 
 He was shortly after chosen a member of the supreme 
 executive council of Pennsylvania, and soon alter 
 was made president of the same. 
 
 When a convention was called to meet in Philadel- 
 phia, in 1787, for the purpose of giving more energf 
 
DICTIOHARY. 405 
 
 to the governmerrt of the union, by revising and amend- 
 ing the articles of confederation. Dr. Franklin was ap- 
 pointed a delegate from the state of Pennsylvania. In 
 this convention he had differed in some points from 
 the majority ; but when the articles were ultimately 
 agreed on, he said to his colleagues, " We ought to 
 have but one opinion 3 the good of our country requires 
 that the resolution should be unanimous," and he 
 signed. 
 
 In the year 1787, two societies were established in 
 Philadelphia, founded on the principles of the most li- 
 beral and refined humanity, " the Philadelphia Socie- 
 ty, for alleviating the miseries of public prisons,'* and 
 " the Philadelphia Society for promoting the abolition 
 of slavery, the relief of free negroes unlawfully held 
 in bondage, and the improvement of the condition of 
 the African race.'* Of each of these Dr. Franklin 
 was president. The labours of these bodies have 
 been crowned with great success ; and they continue 
 to prosecute, with unwearied diligence, the laudable 
 desjgns for which they were established. 
 
 His name as president of the Abolition Society, was 
 signed to the memorial presented to the House of 
 Representatives of the United States, on the 12th 
 February, 1789, pra\ing them to exert the full ex- 
 tent of powers vested m them by the constitution, in 
 discouraging the trafHc of the human species. This 
 was his last public act. In the debates to which this 
 memorial gave rise, several attemps were made to jus- 
 tify the trade. In the Federal Gazette of March 25th 
 there appeared an essay, signed Historicus, written by 
 Dr. Franklin, in v/hich he communicated a speech, 
 said to have been delivered in the Divan of Algiers, in 
 1687, in opposition to the prayer of the petition of a 
 sect called Erika or Purists, for the abolition of piracy 
 and slavery. This pretended African speech was an 
 excellent parody of one delivered by Mr. Jackson of 
 Georgia. All the arguments urged in favor of negro 
 slavery, are applied with equal force to justify the 
 
406 NEV/ BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 plundering and enslaving of Europeans. It affordj^, 
 at the same time, a demonstration of the futility of the 
 arguments in defence of the slave trade, and of the 
 strength of mind and ingenuity of the author, at his 
 advanced period of life. It furnished too, a no less 
 convincing proof of his power of imitating the style 
 of other times and nations, than his celebrated parable 
 against persecution. And as the latter led many per- 
 sons to search the scriptures with a view to find it, so 
 the latter caused many persons to search the book 
 stores and libraries for the work from which it was 
 said to be extracted. 
 
 During the greater part of his life, the doctor had 
 been very healthy. In the year 1735, indeed, he was 
 attacked by a pleurisy, which ended in a suppuration 
 of the left lobe of the lungs, so that he was almost suf- 
 focated by the quantity of matter thrown up. But 
 from this, as well as another attack of the same kind 
 afterw^ards, he recovered so completely, that his breath- 
 ing was not affected in the least. As he advanced in 
 years, however, he became subject to fits of the gout,, 
 to which, in the year 1782, a nephritic cholic was 
 superadded. From this time, he became subject tQ 
 the stone as well as the gout, and for the last twelve 
 months of his life, these complaints almost entirely con- 
 fined him to his bed. Notwithstanding his distressed 
 situation, however, neither his mental abilities nor his 
 natural cheerfulness ever forsook him. His memory 
 was tenacious to the very last ; and he seemed to be 
 an exception to the general rule, that, at a certain 
 period of life, the organs, which are subservient to 
 memory become callous -, a remarkable instance of 
 which is, that he learned to speak French after he had 
 attained the age of seventy. About sixteen days be- 
 fere his death, he was seized with a feverish indispo- 
 sition without any particular symptoms attending ir, 
 till the third or fourth day, when be complained of a 
 pain in his left breast, which encreased till it be- 
 came extremely acute, attended v^itb a cough and la- 
 
 I 
 
l^orious breathing. During this state, when the seve- 
 rity of his pains sometimes drew forth a groan of com- 
 plaint, he would observe, that he was afraid he did 
 not b^ar them as he ought ; acknowledged his grate- 
 ful sense of the many blessings he had received from 
 the Supreme Being, who had raised him from small 
 and low beginnings, to such high rank and considera- 
 tion amongst men y and made no doubt but his pre- 
 sent afflictions were kindly intended to wean him from 
 a world in which he was no longer fit to act the part 
 assigned him. In 'this frame of body and mind he 
 continued till five days before his death, when his 
 pain and diflSculty of breathing entirely left him, and 
 his family were flattering themselves with the hopes 
 of his recovery, when an imposthumation, which had 
 formed itself in his lungs, snddenly burst and discharg- 
 ed a great quantity of matter, which he continued to 
 throvr up while he had sufficient strength to do it ; but 
 as that failed, the organs of respiration became gra- 
 dually oppressed j a calm lethargic state succeeded, 
 and on the 17th of April, 1790, about eleven o'clock 
 at night, he quietly expired, closing a long and use- 
 ful life of eighty-four years and three months. He 
 made various bequests and donations, to cities, pub- 
 lic bodies and individuals, of which we shall only take 
 notice of the following, as it tends to shew that high 
 respect which he entertained for the character of the 
 jate immortal Washington, although some newspaper 
 scriblers have, since the death of Franklin, frequently 
 insinuated that there was a misunderstanding be- 
 tween these two illustrious patriots in consequence of 
 a difference in political opinions. " My fine crab- 
 tree walking stick," says Dr. Franklin, in his will, 
 " with a gold head, curiously v^Tought in the form of 
 the cap of Liberty, I give to my friend, and the friend 
 of mankind, General Washington. If it were a scep- 
 tre he has merited it, and would become it." Dr. 
 Franklin left one son. Governor AVilliam Franklin of 
 New- Jersey, a zealous royally, and a daughter, mar- 
 
40$ HEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 ried to Mr. William Bache, merchant, in Philadel- 
 phia. 
 
 Dr. Franklin was author of many tracts on electrici- 
 ty, and other branches ofnatural philosophy, as well as 
 on many political and miscellaneous subjects. His 
 jirst publication, in 1753, was entitled, " Experiments 
 and Observations on Electricity, made at Philadelphia, 
 in two parts 4to.** New experiments on the same sub- 
 ject, appeared in a third part, the following year ; and 
 these three parts with the addition of some explanata- 
 ry notes, and of " Lettess and Papers on Philosophi- 
 cal subjects," were published in one volume, illustrat- 
 ed with copper-plates in 1769. In 1759, he publish- 
 ed, without his name, '' An Historical View of the 
 Constitution and Government of Pennsylvania," occa- 
 sioned by the disputes, which had long subsisted be- 
 tween the governor and assembly of that province. 
 In 1760, he published an anonymous pamphlet, en- 
 titled, " The Interest of Great Britain considered 
 with respect to her colonies, and the acquisition of 
 Canada and Guadaloupe." In 1779, an edition ap- 
 peared both in 4to and Svo of his " Political, Miscel- 
 laneous and Philosophical pieces,'* none of which 
 had beeen collected before. The aim of this great 
 man was, to be generally useful. His advice to ser- 
 vants, to settlers in America, his rules for clubs and 
 conversation, his directions for the cure of smoky 
 chimneys, &:c. &c. &:c. abundantly evince that he 
 deemed no subject too humble for his pen, in which 
 it was possible to be of service. 
 
 Dr. Franklin, likewise, commenced the history of 
 his own life, which he intended for his son, but it 
 reaches no farther than 1757. He there speaks of 
 himself, as he would have done of another person, 
 delineating his thoughts, his actions, and even his 
 errors and foibles ; and he describes the unfolding of 
 his genius and talents, with the simplicity of a great 
 man, who knows how to do justice to himself, and 
 with the testimony^ of a clear conscience void of re- 
 
DICTIONARY. 409 
 
 proach. In short, the whole life of Franklin, his me- 
 ditations, his labours, were all directed to public utili- 
 ty ; but the grand object, which he had always in view 
 did not shut his heart against private friendship ; he 
 loved his family, his friends, and was extremely bene- 
 ficent. In society he was sententious, but not fluent ; 
 a listener rather than a talker ; an informing rather 
 than a facetious companion. Impatient of interruption, 
 he often mentioned the custom of the Indians, who 
 always remain silent som.etime before they give an 
 answer to a question, which they have heard atten- 
 tively, unhke some of the most polite societies in ci- 
 vilized life, where a sentence can scarcely be finished 
 without interruption. The whole time of his life was 
 a perpetual lecture against the idle, the extravagant 
 and the proud. It was his principal aim to inspire 
 mankind with a love of industry, temperance and 
 frugality ; and to inculcate such duties as promote 
 -the important interests of humanity. By a judicious 
 division of time, he acquired the art of doing every 
 thing to advantage ; in the midst of his greatest occu- 
 pations for the liberty of his country, he had some 
 physical experiment near him in his closet ; and the 
 scierK:es which he had rather discovered than studied, 
 aflforded him a continual source of innocent and ra- 
 tional pleasures. 
 
 We shall conclude this memoir, by observing, that 
 such was the opinion, which the virtuous and intelli- 
 gent part of mankind entertained for the wisdom, pa- 
 triotism and philanthropy of this exalted character, 
 that, since the first settlement of America^ no death 
 has happened in it, which has excited so universal 
 regret as his, except that of his late illustrious friend 
 and co-patriot, the immortal Washington. 
 
 Dr. Franklin wrote the following epitaph on him- 
 self, several years previous to his deaths 
 
 Vol.11. No, 15, F 3 
 
4-10 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 " THE BODY OF 
 
 BENJAMIN FRANKLIN, printer. 
 
 (like the cover of an old book 
 
 ITS contents torn out, 
 
 AND STRIPT OF ITS LETTERING AND GILDING,) 
 
 LIES HERE FOOD FOR WORMS; 
 
 YET THE WORK ITSELF SHALL NOT BE LOST, 
 
 BUT WILL (as he BELIEVED) 
 
 APPEAR ONCE MORE 
 
 IN A NEW 
 
 AND MORE BEAUTIFUL EDITION, 
 
 CORRECTED AND AMENDED 
 
 BY 
 
 THE AUTHOR." 
 
 GALE, (John) an eminent and learned minister a- 
 inong the Baptists, was born at London, in 1680. 
 His father was a citizen of good repute, and observ- 
 ing the natural turn of his son to be from his infancy 
 grave and composed, he resolved to breed him up to 
 the pulpit. He spared no cost in his education, and 
 -the boy's diligence was such, that he became not only 
 master of the Greek and Latin, but also of the He- 
 brew language, and at the age of 17, he was sent to 
 Leyden, to finish what he had so happily begun. 
 
 Jnthatuniversity,his progress in academical learning 
 was so surprising, that he was thought worthy of the 
 degree of doctor of philosophy, in his 19th year ; and 
 accordingly received that honor in 1699, having per- 
 formed the usual exercises with universal applause. 
 Upon his return home, he resumed his studies with 
 equal ardour ; and improving himself particularly in 
 the oriental languages, obtained thereby a critical 
 skill in the books of the Old and New Testaments. 
 He had not been above four years thus' employed, 
 "when the university of Leyden sent him an offer of a 
 doctor^s degree in divinity, provided he would assent 
 
DICTIONARY. 411 
 
 to the articles of Dort ; but he refused that honour on 
 the principle of preserving a freedom of judgment. 
 " Wall's Defence of Infant Baptism," coming out in 
 jess than two years after, proved an occasion of Mr. 
 Calebs exerting his talents in several letters, written 
 in 1705 and 1706; and they were handed about in 
 manuscript several years, 'till being uniformly com- 
 mended by all who saw them, he consented to make 
 them public in 171 1, under the title of, *^ Reflections 
 on Mr. Wall's History of Infant Baptism." This 
 perform.ance is reckoned the best defence of the Bap- 
 tists ever published, and the perusal of it induced two 
 famous English divines, the celebrated Mr. William 
 Whiston and Dr. James Foster to become Bap- 
 tists. He was 35 years of age before he became a 
 constant and stated preacher, when he was chosen 
 minister of one of the most respectable Baptist con- 
 gregations at London, where his preaching, being 
 chiefly practical, was greatly resorted to by people of 
 all persuasions. Four vols, of his sermons were pub* 
 lished after his death, which happened in 1721. 
 
 GALEN, (Claud I an) prince of the Greek phy^ 
 slcians after Hippocrates, was born at Pergamus in 
 the Lesser Asia, about A. D. 131. His father, who was. 
 possessed of a considerable fortune, was well versed 
 in polite literature, philosophy, astronomy and geome- 
 t.'-y, and also well skilled in architecture. He 
 himself instructed his son in the first rudiments of 
 learning, and afterwards procured him the greatest 
 masters of the age in philosophy and eloquence. — 
 Galen, having finished his Gtwdies under their care,, 
 chose physic for his profession and chiefly the. 
 works of Hippocrates. Having, at length, exhausted 
 all the sources of literature, which were to be found 
 at home, he resolved to travel, in order to converser 
 with the most able physicians in all parts, intendingj^ 
 at the same time, to take every opportunity of examifibr- 
 
412 NEW BIOGRAPHICAIi 
 
 ing on the spot, the plants and drugs of the countries, 
 through which he passed. With this view he went 
 to Alexandria in Egypt, and tarried some years in 
 that metropolis ; from thence he travelled through 
 Cilicia ; passed through Palestine 5 visited the Isles l 
 of Crete and Cyprus, and made two voyages to Lem- 
 nos, in order to examine the Lemnian earth, which 
 was then esteemed an admirable medicine. With 
 the same view, he went into the Lower Tyria, in or- 
 der to obtain a thorough insight into the nature of the 
 opobalsamum or balm of Gilead ; and having com- 
 pleted his design, returned home by way of Alex- 
 andria. 
 
 He was now only twenty-eight years of age, yet 
 had made some considerable advances towards im- 
 proving his art. For instance, he had acquired parti- 
 cular skill in wounds of the nerves and was possessed 
 of a method of treating them never before known. — 
 The pontiff of Pergamus gave him an opportunity of 
 trying his new method upon the gladiators, and he 
 was so successful, that not a single one perished by 
 any wounds of this kind. By this we find, as well as 
 by several other instances, that Galen studied, under- 
 stood and practised surgery as well as physic. 
 
 Galen had been four years at Pergamus, where his 
 practice was attended with extraordinary appJause, 
 when some seditious commotions induced him to go 
 to Rome, where he settled ; but the proofs he gave 
 of his superior skill, added to the respect shewn him by 
 several persons of very high rank, created him so ma- 
 ny enemies amongst his brethren of the faculty, that he 
 was obliged to quit the city, after having resided 
 there four or five years. But he had not long 
 returned to Pergamus, when he was recalled by the 
 emperor, after whose decease, he returned to his na- 
 tive country^ where he died about the year 200. 
 
 He was a man endowed with excellent parts ; and 
 having the advantage of the best education, became 
 
©ICTIOHARY. 413 
 
 not only a great physician, but also a great philoso- 
 pher, and was particularly happy in a facility of ex- 
 pression and an unaffected eloquence. As he himself 
 informs us, he was of a weak and delicate constitu- 
 tion, but he nevertheless^ by his temperance and skill 
 in physic, arrived to a great age, for it was one of his 
 maxims always to rise from table, with some degree 
 of appetite. He is justly considered as the greatest 
 physician of antiquity next to Hippocrates ; and he 
 performed such surprising cures, that he was accused 
 of magic. 
 
 He wrote in Greek; and is said to have composed 
 two hundred volumes, which w^ere unhappily burnt in 
 the temple of Peace. The best editions of those, 
 which remain, are that printed at Basil, 1533 in 5 
 volumes, and that of Venice, 1625 in 7 volumes. 
 
 GALILEI, (Galileo) the famous mathematician 
 and astronomer was the son of a Florentine noble- 
 man and born in the year 1564. He had from his 
 infancy a strong inclination to philosophy and the ma- 
 thematics, and in these sciences, he made prodigious 
 progress. In 1592, he was appointed professor of 
 mathematics in the university of Padua ; previous to 
 which he had acquired great celebrity by the publi- 
 cation of his " Mechanics" or a treatise of the benefits 
 derived from that science, and from its instruments, 
 together with a fragment concerning Percussion ; as 
 also his " Balance," wherein after Archimedes's pro- 
 blem of the crown, he shewed how to find the pro- 
 portion of alloy, in mixed metals, and how to make 
 the said instrument. These he had read to his pupils 
 at his first coming to Padua, in 1 593. 
 
 Whilst he was professor at Padua, he heard that in 
 Holland, there had been invented a glass, through 
 which very distant objects were seen as distinctly as 
 those near at hand. This information was sufficient 
 for Galileo : his curiosity was excited, and he began 
 
414 KEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 to consider what must be the form of such a glass 
 and the manner of making it. The result of his in- 
 quiry was the invention of the telescope, produced 
 from this hint, without having seen the Dutch glass, r 
 All the discoveries, which he afterwards made in ^ 
 astronomy were easy and natural consequences of this 
 invention, which opening a way into the heavens till 
 then unknown, thereby gave that science an entirely 
 new face. One of his first discoveries was four of 
 Jupiter's satellites, which he called the Medicean 
 Stars or planets in honour of Cosmo II, Grand Duke 
 of Tuscany, who was of that noBle family. In 1611, 
 Cosmo sent for him to Pisa, where he made him pro- 
 fessor of mathematics with a handsom.e salary ; and 
 soon after inviting him to Florence, gave him the of- 
 fice and title of principal philosopher and mathemati- 
 cian to his highness. 
 
 Having observed some solar spots in 1612, he print- 
 ed that discovery at Rome the following year, in whick- 
 and in some other pieces, he ventured to assert the 
 truth of the Copernican system, and brought several 
 new arguments to confirm it. This startled the Jes- 
 uits, who thereupon procured a citation for him to ap- ^ 
 pear before the Holy Office at Rome in 1615 ; where 
 he was charged with heresy for maintaining these two 
 propositions — 1st, That the sun is the centre of the 
 world and immoveable by a local motion, ancj 2d, 
 That the earth is not the centre of the world, nor im- 
 moveable, but actually moves by a diurnal motion. 
 The first of these positions was declared to be absurd, 
 false in philosophy and formally heretical, being con- 
 trary to the express word of God : the second was 
 also alledged to be philosophically false, and, in a 
 theological view, at least, erroneous in point of faith. 
 For these reasons he was detained in the Inquisition 
 from the middle of the year 1615, till the 25th of 
 February following, when sentence was passed against 
 him, whereby he was enjoined to renounce his hereti- 
 
DICTIONARY, 415 
 
 cal opinions, and not to defend them either by word 
 or writing, nor even to insinuate them into the mind 
 of any person whatever, and he obtained his discharge 
 only by a promise to conform himself to this order. — 
 Galileo, following the known maxim, that forced 
 oaths and promises are not binding on the conseience 
 went on making still farther new discoveries in the 
 planetary system, and occasionally publishing thera 
 with such inferences and remarks, as necessarily fol- 
 lowed from them, notwithstanding they tended plain- 
 ly to establish the truth of the above mentioned con- 
 demned propositions. 
 
 He continued to act in this manner for many years, 
 no juridical notice being taken of his conduct, till the 
 year 1632, when having published at Florence his 
 " Dialogues of the two greater systems of the world 
 the Ptolemaic and Copernican" he was again cited be- 
 fore the Inquisition, and committed to the prison of 
 that ecclesiastical court at Rome. In June that year, 
 the congregation convened, and pronounced sentence 
 against him and his books, by which he was obliged 
 to abjure his errors in the most solemn manner, com- 
 mitted to the prison of their office, during pleasure, 
 and enjoined as a penance for three years, to repeat 
 once a week the seven penitential psalms ; reserving 
 to themselves, however, the power of moderating, 
 changing, or taking away altogether or in part, the 
 above mentioned punishment and penance. On this 
 sentence he was detained a prisoner till 1634, and his 
 " Dialogues of ^the System of the World" were burnt 
 at Rome. 
 
 He lived ten years after this, seven of which were 
 employed in making still further discoveries with his 
 telescope ; but, by continuaj application to that in- 
 strument, added to the damage he had received in his 
 sight from the nocturnal air, his eyes grew gradually 
 weaker till 1639, when he became totally blind. He 
 bore this calamity with patience and resignation, wor- 
 
416 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 ^ 
 
 thy of a philosopher, and devoting himseh to constant 
 meditations, prepared a large collection of materials ; 
 and began to dictate his own conceptions, when, by 
 a distemper of three months continuance, which wast- 
 ed him away by degrees, he expired at Arcetti, near 
 Florence, January 8, 1642, in his 78th year. 
 
 He was the author of several useful and very im- 
 portant discoveries, in astronomy, geometry and me- 
 chanics, the principal of which, besides these men- 
 tioned, arc, in the first of these sciences, the trepida- 
 tion or vibration of the moon, as also the inequalities 
 or mountains in its surface. In geometry he invented 
 the cycloid or trochoid ; and in mechanics, he first 
 found the exact degree of celerity in the descent of 
 bodies, by the force of gravity ; to which may be add- 
 ed the machine with which the Venetians render the 
 Laguna fluid and navigable, the invention whereof 
 was his. He wrote a great num.ber of treatises, se- 
 veral of which were published in a collection by Sig- 
 ner Mendessi, under the title of " L'Opera di Galileo 
 Galilei Lynceo." Some of these, with other of his 
 pieces were translated into English and published by 
 Thomas Salisbury, Esq. in his mathematical collec- 
 tions in two volumes folio. A volume also of his let- 
 ters to several learned men, and solutions of" several 
 problems, were printed at Bologna in 4to. But be- 
 sides these, he wrote many others, which were un- 
 fortunately lost, through the bigotry and superstition of 
 his v^ife, who, being solicited by her confessor, gave 
 him leave to peruse her husband's m.anuscripts, of 
 which he tore and took away as many as he said were 
 not fit to be published. 
 
 GARRICK, (David) the British Roscius, who, 
 for near forty years, shone the brightest luminary in 
 the hemisphere of the stage, was born at an inn, in 
 Hereford, in thp year 1716. His father Captain Peter 
 Garrick commanded a troop of horse, which were then 
 
DICTIONARY. 417 
 
 quartered in that city, and his grand-father was a 
 French nfierchant, who, being a protestant had fled to 
 England as an asylum upon the revocation of the edict 
 of 5Tantz, in 16S5. 
 
 Young Garrick was, at ten years of age, sent to the 
 grammar school at Litchfield, but, though remark- 
 able for his dislike to puerile diversions, he was by no 
 means remarkable for assiduity in his application to 
 his studies. Being sprightly and frolicsome, he had 
 conceived an early passion for theatrical represent- 
 ation ; and at little more than 1 1 years of age, pro- 
 cured " The Recruiting Officer," to be acted by 
 young gentlemen and ladies, himself performing the 
 part of Sergeant Kite. Not long after, he went on an 
 invitation to a wine merchant, at Lisbon, but return- 
 ing shortly to Litchfield, he was again sent to the gram- 
 mar school, where, however, he still continufd to make 
 but little progress in learning. 
 
 Doctor Samuel Johnson and he were fellow students 
 at the same school j and it is a curious fact, that these 
 two geniuses came up to London with an intention of 
 pushing themselves into active life, in the same stage 
 coach. On the 9th of March 1736, he was entered 
 at Lincoln's Inn. He soon, however, relinquished the 
 study of law, and followed for some time the employ- 
 ment of a wine merchant j but that too disgusting 
 him, he gave way at last to the irresistible bias of his 
 mind, and determined to enter on the stage. 
 
 His diffidence withholding him from trying his 
 strength, at first, upon the London theatre, he 
 commenced noviciate with a company of players, 
 then ready to set cut for Ipswich, in the summer of 
 1741. The first efix)rt of his theatrical talents was ex- 
 erted in the character of Aboan in Oroonoko, and was 
 successful equal to his most sanguine desires. Under 
 the assumed name of Lyddel, he not only acted a va- 
 riety of characters in plays, but, likewise, attempted 
 the active feats of the Harlequin, and was in every 
 essay gratified with the most unbounded applause. 
 
 Vol. II. No. 15. G 3 
 
41S NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 Having in this poor school of Apollo, got some ac- 
 quaintance with the theatric art, and taken all the ne- 
 cessary steps for a London Stage, he made his first 
 appearance, at the little theatre, in Goodman's Fields, 
 October 19th, 1741, when he performed Richard III. 
 His excellence dazzled and astonished every one. Indeed 
 the seeing a young man, in no more than his twenty- 
 fourth year, and a novice in reality to the stage, reach- 
 ing at one single step to that height of perfection, 
 which maturity of years and long practical experience 
 had not been able to bestow on the then capital per- 
 formers of the English stage, was a phenomenon, 
 ^hich could not but become the object of universal 
 admiration. The more established theatres of Covent 
 Garden and Drury Lane were deserted ; the inhabi- 
 tants of the court-end of the town were drawn after 
 him, and Goodman's Fields, from being the rendez- 
 vous oi persons in inferior stations, became the resort 
 of people of all ranks and denominations, as Mr. 
 Garrick continued to act till the close of the season. 
 Having very advantageous terms offered him for the 
 performing in Dublin, during some part of the sum- 
 mer of 1741, he went over thither, where he found 
 the same homage paid to his merit, w^hich he had re- 
 ceived from his own countrymen. To the service of 
 the latter, however, he esteemed himself more im- 
 mediately bound ; and, therefore, in the ensuing win- 
 ter engaged himself to Mr. Fleetwood, then manager 
 of Drury Lane, in which theatre he continued till the 
 year 1745, when he again went over to Ireland, and 
 remained there the whole season, joint manager with 
 Mr. Sheridan in the direction and profits of the thea- 
 tre royal. From thence he returned to England, and 
 was engaged for the season of 1746, at Covent Gar- 
 den. This was his last performance as an hired ac- 
 tor ; for, in the close oi that season, Mr. Fleetwood's 
 patent for the management of Drury Lane having ex- 
 pired, and that gentleman having no inclination fur- 
 ther to pursue a design, by which, from his want of 
 
DICTIONARY, 4l3^ 
 
 acquaintance with the proper conduct of it, or some 
 other cause, he had considerably impaired his fortune, 
 Mr. Garrick, in conjunction with Mr. Lacy, purchased 
 the property of that theatre together with the renova- 
 tion of the patent ; and, in the winter of 1747, open- 
 ed it with the greatest part of Mr. Fleetwood's com- 
 pany, and, with the great addition of Mr. Barry, Mrs, 
 Prichard, and Mrs. Gibber from Covent Garden. 
 
 Were we to trace Mr. Garrick through the several 
 occurrences of his life — a life so active, so busy and 
 so full of occurrence as his, we should swell thi^ ac- 
 count far beyond our limits. Suffice it to say, he con- 
 tinued in the unmolested enjoyment of his fame and 
 unrivalled excellence to the moment of his retirement. 
 His universality of excellence was never once attack- 
 ed by competition. Tragedy, comedy and farce, the 
 lover and the hero, the jealous husband, and the 
 thoughtless lively rake were all alike his own. Rage 
 and ridicule, doubt and despair, transport and tender- 
 ness, compassion and contempt : love, jealousy, fear, 
 fury and simplicity: all alternately took possession of his 
 features, while each of them in turn appeared to be 
 the sole possessor of his heart. In short, nature, the 
 mistress, from whom alone this great performer bor- 
 rowed all hislessons, being in herself inexhaustible, this 
 her darling son marked out for her truest representa- 
 tive, found an unlimited scope for change and diver- 
 sity in his manner of copying from her various pro- 
 ductions. But there is one part of theatrical conductj^ 
 which ought unquestionably to be recorded to Mr. 
 Garrick's honour, since the cause of virtue and morali- 
 ty and the formation of public manners, arc consider- 
 ably dependent upon it, and that is, the zeal, with 
 which he aimed to banish from the stage all those 
 plays, w^hich carry with them an immoral tendency, 
 and to prune from those, which do not absolutely, on 
 the whole, promote the interests of vice, such scenes 
 of licentiousness, as a redundancy of wit, and too 
 great livehness of imagination have induced some 
 
420 ' NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 I 
 
 comic writers to indulge themselves in, and to which 
 the sympathetic disposition of our age of gallantry and 
 intrigue has given too great sanction. The purity 
 the English stage was certainly much more fully esta- 
 blished, during the administration of this theatrical 
 minister, than it had ever been during preceding 
 managemenrs. He seems to have carried his modest, 
 moral, and chaste principles with him into the very 
 management of the theatre itself, and rescued per- 
 formers from that obloquy, v;hich had too long stuck 
 on the profession. Of those, who were accounted 
 blackguards, and unworthy of the association of the 
 world, he made gentlemen, united them with society, 
 and introduced them to all the domestic comforts of 
 life. The theatre was no longer esteemed the recep- 
 tacle of all vice ; and the moral, the serious part of 
 mankind, did not hesitate to partake the entertain- 
 ment of a play, and pass'B cheerful evening undis- 
 gusted with the licentiousness, and uncorrupted by the 
 immorality of the exhibition. 
 
 • Notwithstanding the numberless and laborious 
 avocations attendant on his profession as an actor, 
 and his station as a m^anager ; yet still his active genius 
 was perpetually bursting forth in various little pro- 
 ductions in the dramatic and poetical way, whose 
 merit cannot but make us regret his want of time for 
 the pursuance of more extensive and important works. 
 It is certain, that his merit as an author is not of the 
 first magnitude 3 but his great knowledge of men and 
 manners, of stage effect, and his happy turn for lively 
 and striking satire, made him generally successful ; 
 and his prologues and epilogues in particular, which 
 are almost innumerable, possess such a degree of hap- 
 piness both in the conception and execution as to 
 stand unequalled. His Ode on Shakspeare is a mas* 
 terly piece of poetry ; and when delivered by himself 
 was a most capital exhibition. His alterations of 
 Shakespeare and other authors have been at times suc- 
 cessful and at times exploded. Among his alterations. 
 
DICTIOKARY, 421 
 
 the following are part—" Every Man in his Humour" 
 altered from Ben. Johnson : " Romeo and Juliet ;'* 
 "Winter's Tale;" Catharine and Petruchio ;" " Ham- 
 let," &c. altered and made up from Shakespeare : 
 " Gamester," a comedy from Shirley, and "Isabella" 
 from Southeme. To these we may add, as original 
 productions " The Farmer's Return" and " Linco's 
 Travels" interludes 5 " Guardian," " Lethe," " Lying 
 Valet," " Miss in her Teens," " Male Coquet," 
 " Irish Widow," and other comedies in two acts ; 
 " Enchanter," a musical entertainment " Lilliput," 
 and many others; 
 
 We now bring him to the period of his retirement 
 in the spring of 1776, when full of fame, with the ac- 
 quirement of a splendid fortune : and growing into 
 years, he thought proper to seek the vale of life to en- 
 joy that dignified and honourable ease, which was 
 compatible with his public situation, and which he 
 bad so well earned by the activity and the merits of 
 his dramatic reign. Upon his leaving the stage, he 
 disposed of his moiety of the patent to Messrs. Sheri- 
 dan, Linley and Ford for 155,400 dollars, but did not 
 live long to enjoy the retirement, which he sought, as 
 he died the 20th January, 1779. 
 
 GAY, (John) a celebrated English poet, was born 
 at Exeter 1688, and received his education at the free- 
 school in that county, where he acquired a considera- ' 
 ble taste for literature. This was all the education 
 he had, for the estate of his family being greatly re- 
 duced, his fortune was not sufficient to support him 
 as a gentleman, and, therefore, his friends chose to 
 breed him up to some genteel business. He was, ac- 
 cordingly, put apprentice to a silk mercer in London; 
 but this step was taken without coiisulting the youth's 
 taste or inclination. The shop soon became his aver- 
 sion ; he was seldom in it, and in a few years, his 
 master, upon the offer of a small consideration, con- 
 
422 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 1 
 
 sented to give up his indentures. Having thus pur- ] 
 ehased the ease of his mind, he indulged himself free- ; 
 ]y in that course of life, to which he w^as irresistibly : 
 drawn by nature. Poetry was, at once, his delight 
 and his talent, and he suffered not his muse to be dis- 
 turbed by any disagreeable attention to the expence ^ 
 of cultivating it. 
 
 These qualities recommended him to such compa- 
 ny and acquaintance as he most affected, and among 
 others, to Swift and Pope, who were exceedingly 
 struck with the open sincerity and easiness of his tem« '■ 
 per. To this last gentleman he addressed the first 
 fruits of his muse, entitled " Rural Sports, a Georgic," ^ 
 printed in 1711. This piece discovered a rich poeti- 
 cal vein peculiar to himself, and met with some 
 agreeable attestations of its merit, that would have 
 been enjoyed with a higher relish, had not the plea- 
 sure been interrupted by the ill state of his finances, 
 which, by an uncommon degree of thoughtlessness, 
 were now reduced to a very low ebb. Our poet's 
 purse was an unerring barometer to his spirits, which, 
 sinking with it, left him in the apprehension of a ser- ^ 
 vile dependence, a condition he dreaded above any j| 
 thing, which could befall him. The clouds, however, 
 were shortly dispelled by the kindness of the duchess j 
 of Monmouth, who appointed him her secretary in | 
 1712, with a handsome salary. This seasonable fa- 
 vour seating him in a coach, though not his own, kin- 
 dled his muse into a new pregnancy. He first pro- 
 duced his celebrated poem called, " Trivia, or the^- 
 Art of walking the Streets,'' and the following year, 
 at the instance of Mr. Pope, he formed the plan of 
 his " Pastorals." This exquisite piece was publish- | 
 cd in 1714, with a dedication to lord Bolingbroke. I 
 
 The most promising views now opened to him at i 
 court ; he w^as caressed by some leading persons in ■ 
 the ministry, and his patroness rejoiced to see him: ^ 
 taken from her house to attend the earl of Clarendon,: 1 
 ag secretary in his embassy to the court of Hanover^ 
 
DICTIONARY. 1.25 
 
 the same year. But whatever were his hopes from 
 this new advancement, it is certain they began and 
 ended almost together, for Queen Anne died in fif- 
 teen days after their arrival at Hanover. This, how- 
 ever, did not prove an irreparable loss ; his present 
 situation made him personally known to the sacceed- 
 ing royal family j and, returning home, he made a 
 proper use of it, in a handsome compliment to the 
 Princess of Wales, on her arrival in England. This 
 address procured him a favourable admittance at the 
 new court, and that raising a new flow of spirits, he 
 wrote hisfarce, entitled, "the What d ye Call it," which 
 appeared upon the stage before the end of the season?. 
 The profits of this performance brought some useful 
 recruits to his finances, and his poetical merit being 
 endeared by the sweetness and sincerity of his nature^ 
 procured him an easy access to persons of the first di^-^' 
 tinction. In 17 1 6, he made a visit to his native coun- 
 ty, at the expence of lord Burlington, and repaid his 
 lordship with a humorous account of the journey. 
 The like return was made for Mr. Poultney's favourit 
 who took him in his company the following year t& 
 Aix in France. ^ 
 
 This jaunting about with some decent appointment, 
 was one of the highest gratifications of Mr. Gay's life, 
 and never failed of calling forth his muse. Soon af- 
 ter his return to France, he introduced to the' stage, 
 ''The Three ^Hours after Marriage." His friends. 
 Pope and Arbuthnot had both a hand in this perform- 
 ance, and the two principal characters were acted by 
 two of the best comedians at that time; yet with all 
 these advantages, it was condemned the first night. 
 Gay supported this with an unusual degree of magna- 
 nimity, which seems to have been inspired by a hear- 
 ty regard for his partners, especially Pope, who was 
 greatly affected with it. In 1720, he again recruited 
 his purse by a handsome subscription to his poems, 
 which he collected and published in 2 vols. 4to ; but 
 falling into the general infatuation of that remarkable 
 
4124 ^EW BIOGRAPKICAi; 
 
 1 
 
 year, he lost all his fortune in the South Sea scheme, 
 and consequently all his spirits. Indeed this stroke 
 had almost proved fatal to him; he was seized with a 
 violent cholic, and, after languishing some time, re- 
 moved in 1722, to Hempstead for the benefit of the 
 waters ; but, by the assistance of Dr. Arbuthnot, who 
 constantly attended him, he at length recovered. 
 Soon after thrs, he finished his tragedy called " The 
 Captives,'' which he had the honour of reading fron\ 
 MS. to the Princess of Wales in 1724. Her royal 
 highness also promised him further marks of her favor, 
 if he would write some Fables in verse for the use of 
 the Duke of Cumberland, which task he accordingly 
 undertook, and published them in 1726, with a dedi- 
 cation to that prince. 
 
 From the countenance now shewn to him and num 
 berless promises of preferment, it was reasonable to 
 suppose, that he would have been genteelly provided 
 for in some office suitable to his inclination and abili- 
 ties. Instead of which, he, in 1727, was offered the 
 place of gentleman usher to one of the youngest prin- 
 cesses, an office, w^hich, as he looked on it rather as 
 an indignity to a man, whose talents might have been 
 so much better employed, he thought proper to re» 
 fuse. Mr. Gay's dependencies on the promises of the| 
 great, and the disappointments he so often met with! 
 from that quarter are figuratively described in his ele-l 
 gant fable of the " Hare with many friends." How-* 
 ever, the very extraordinary success he met with from 
 public encouragement, made an ample amends, both 
 with respect to satisfaction and emoluments for those 
 private disappointments. For he immediately wrote 
 " The Beggar's Opera," which, being brought upon 
 the stage, towards the end of the year 1727, was re- 
 ceived with greater applause than had ever been 
 known on any previous occasion. There is scarcely 
 to be found in history an example, where a private 
 subject, undistinguished either by birth or fortune, 
 had it in his power to feast his resentment so richly 
 
DtCTlONAUV* 425 
 
 ^l the expence of his sovereign. Btit this was not all 
 — he went on in tlie same humour, and cast a second 
 part in the hke fasliioned mould, which, being ex- 
 chidex^ from the stage by the Lord Chamberlain, he 
 was encouraged to print with the title of " Polly" by 
 subscription ; and this too, considering the powers 
 employed against it, was incredibly large. Neither 
 did it end here. The Duke and Duchess of Queens- 
 bury took part in resenting the indignity put upon him 
 by this I'ast act of power, resigned their respective 
 places at court, took our author into their house 
 and family, and treated him with all the endearing 
 kindnesses of an intimate and much beloved friend. 
 
 Mr. Gay wrote several other pieces in the dramatic 
 Way, and many very valuable ones in verse. Among 
 the latter his " Trivia," though his first poetical at- 
 tempt, is far from being the least considerable and is 
 what recommended him to the esteem and friendship 
 of Mr. Pope ; and, as amongst his dramatic works, 
 his Beggar's Opera, did, at first and perhaps ever will 
 stand as an unrivalled master-piece, so amongst hfs 
 poetical works his *' Fables" hold the same rank of 
 estimation, the latter having been almost universal!}' 
 read as the former was represented and both equally- 
 admired. 
 
 Mr. Gay*s disposition was sweet and affable, his 
 temper generous, and his conversatron agreeable and 
 entertaining. But he had one foible too frequently 
 incident to men of great literary abilities, and which 
 subjected him at times to inconveniences, wjiich 
 otherwise he needed not to have experienced, viz. an 
 excess of indolence, without any knowledge of econo- 
 my. So that, though his emoluments were, at some 
 periods of his life, very considerable, he was at others 
 greatly straitened in his circumstances ; nor could he 
 prevail on himself to follow the advice, of his friend 
 Dean Swift, whom we find in many of his letters en- 
 deavouring to persuade him to the purchase of an an- 
 nuity, as a reserve for the exigences, which might at- 
 
 VoL. II. No. 15. H 3 
 
426 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 tend an old age. Mr. Gay chose rather to throw him- 
 self on patronage than secure to himself an indepen- 
 dent competency by the means pointed out to him, so 
 that, after having undergone many vicissitudes of for- 
 tune, and being for some time chiefly supported by 
 the liberality of the Duke and Duchess of Queensbu- 
 ry, he died at their house in Dec. 1732, and was bu- 
 ried in Westminster Abbey with this epitaph, written 
 hy himself, engraved on his tomb : — 
 
 " Life is a jest, and all things show it ; 
 
 " 1 thought so once ; but now I know it.'* 
 
 GESNER, (SoLOMoi-j) the celebrated author of 
 the death of Abel, and many other admired works in 
 the German language, was born at Zurich in the year 
 1730. In his earlier years he shewed very few 
 signs of superior abilities; and his progress in the ru- 
 diments of education was so slow, that his master 
 gave him up as incapable of any greater attainments 
 than writing and the four first rules of arithmetic. 
 Upon this, he was placed under a clergyman in the 
 neighbourhood, who shewed himself better acquaint- 
 ed with the art of discovering the natural inclination 
 of his pupils. This gentleman often carried young 
 Gesner with him into the fields, where he made him 
 observe the beauties of nature ; and finding, that he 
 took great pleasure in such lessons, and seemed to 
 jisten to them with peculiar attention, he occasional- 
 ly repeated some of the most striking passages of the 
 ancient authors, who have written on those subjects 
 in the most agreeable and pleasing manner. By this 
 ingenious artifice, the mind of young Gesner began 
 to open, and its powers to expand, and it is, per- 
 haps, owing to this circumstance, that he became so 
 fond of the language of Virgil and Theocritus. When 
 he arrived at a proper age to think of pursuing some 
 line of business, Mr. Gesner made choice of that of 
 a bookseller, which was the profession of his father^, 
 
' DICTIONARY. 427 
 
 and In some measure of his family. Of five houses at 
 Zurich,, in the bookselling and printing business, two 
 were occupied by Gesners, one of which belonged to 
 two brothers of that name; and the latter, in which 
 our poet was a partner, was known by the firm of 
 Ore], Gesner. and Fusefi. It was known also by 
 the extent of its correspondence, and by the choice 
 and elegance of the works which it gave the public. 
 
 But Gesner's engagements in trade did not prevent 
 the exertions of his genius. He indulged his favour- 
 ite pursuits with freedom, and his partners had too 
 much good sense to murmur at the time, which he 
 devoted to his writings. In 1752, he made a lour 
 through Germany, not so much for the purpose of ex- 
 tending his commercial connections, as to see and be 
 acquainted with those authors, who have done honor 
 to their country. The following circumstance, which 
 occurred during this tour, deserves to be mentioned, 
 as it is strickingly characteristic of that timidity, which 
 often accompanies true genius. When Mr. Gesner 
 was at Berlin, he w^as admitted into a literary society, 
 of which Gleim and Lessing were members, Each 
 of the authors, who composed it, used to read in turn 
 some piece of their own composition, and Mr. Ges- 
 ner was very desirous of submitting to those able cri- 
 tics a small work, which was his first attempt : but 
 he was far from resembling those poets, whom Ho- 
 race and other satyrists have ridiculed, and who stun 
 every one they meet with by reciting their verses be- 
 fore them. As each of the members had done read- 
 ing, Gesner was observed to move his hand with a 
 kind of tremor towards his pocket, and to draw it 
 back again without the manuscript, which he ought 
 to have produced. Having never as yet published 
 any thing, none of the company could imagine the 
 cause of a motion, which his modesty prevented hini 
 irom explaining. The work, which he liad not the 
 courage to shew was his small poem, entitled "Night," 
 which he published on his return to Zurich in 1753;, 
 
428 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 and of which ther^ are no\v three different translations 
 in French.: 'The success of this first essay, encou- 
 raged the timid muse of our young bookseller, and 
 he published, almost at the same time, a pastoral ro- 
 mance, called " Daphnis/* and a continuation of the 
 celebrated story of Inkle and Yarico. 
 
 Of this affecting tale, which originally appeared in 
 " the Spectator," Gellert had written a poetical ver- 
 sion in the German language. Bodmer too had fin-- 
 ished a tale on the same subject, and had formed a 
 plan for the continuation of it, in which, indignant 
 as he was to see innocence sacrificed to avarice, and 
 villainy unpunished, he intended to bring the story to 
 a conclusion conformable to the rules of strict poeti- 
 cal jusiice. Our poet pursued the plan of Bodmer in 
 his poem of " Incle and Yarico." This indeed is on- 
 ly a second part, in which he describes the penitence 
 of Incle and the happy deliverance of Yarico. 
 
 The success of our young bookseller in these at- 
 tempts emboldened his too timid muse, and he pub- 
 lished a pastoral romance called " Daphnis" in three 
 cantos. The applause, which w^as deservedly bestow- 
 ed upon this performance, induced the author to pub- 
 lish some time after, his *' Idylls," and some other ru- 
 ral poems, in imitation of those of Theocritus. Pas- 
 toral poetry, which, at this time, was little known in 
 Germany, but by translations from foreign poets, be- 
 gan to find many partizans, and to be preferred to 
 every other kind. Desirous, therefore, ot tracing out 
 a new path for himself, our poet thought that he could 
 not^do a more acceptable service to his countrymen, 
 than to paint the felicity of innocence and rural life, 
 and the tender emotions of love and gratitude. The 
 only author worthy of notice, who had precceded Mr. 
 Gesner in this career, was Mr. Rost of Leipsic, in 
 1744. This writer polished the language of the Ger- 
 jnan shepherds : he had address enough to unite spirit 
 and simplicity in a kind of writing, which appears 
 jasipid without the former, and which becomes unna- 
 
 
DICTLONARY. 429 
 
 tural and disgusting;, if it is too abundant. He some- 
 times throws a delicate veil over those images, which 
 are deficient in decency, but it is to be regretted, that 
 it is often too slight. Such was the antagonist against 
 whom Gesner had to contend. Our poet, however, 
 pursued a different course. Instead of placing like 
 Rost, his scenes in modern times, he goes back with 
 Theocritus to the golden age, that happy age, which we 
 are fond of reviewing when our passions are calm and 
 when freed from those anxious cares, which hurry us 
 beyond ourselves, we contemplate amidst tranquility, 
 the beauties and fertility of the country. The charac- 
 ter of Gesner's Idylls, therefore, are taken from those 
 societies, which exist no longer, but in the remem- 
 brance or rather the imagination. His shepherds are 
 fathers, children and husbands, who blush not at these 
 titles so dear to nature, and to whom generosity, be- 
 nevolence and respect for the Deity, are sometimes 
 no less familiar than love. These Idylls were the 
 principal and favourite object of his pursuit, and that 
 part of his work, which acquired him the greatest re- 
 putation, especially among his countrymen. 
 
 His '*' Death of Abel," which is well known, was 
 published, for the first time, in 175B. This is an epic 
 poem in five books, which unites in the mest affecting 
 manner, a kind of religious majesty, with the simpli- 
 city of pastoral life. It is impossible for a young mind 
 uncontaminated by the vi^orld, to read this excellent 
 work w^ithout being inspired with a more fervent sense 
 ot piety, and a more animating love of virtue. It 
 must be confessed, however, that the chief excellence 
 oF this poem consists in the pastoral scenes ; for with 
 respect to the epic part, it will ever suffer by a com- 
 parison with Milton, of whose soblime poem, it is but 
 a feeble imitation. 
 
 Mr. Gesner's next publication was entitled '• The 
 First Navigator" a poem in three books, which blends 
 the most charming philosophy with the most pictur- 
 esque splendour cf Fairy land. He, likewise, at- 
 
430 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 tempted the pastoral drama, in which, however, he 
 was not so successful, as in other kinds of rural poetry. 
 — ^His productions of this kind are " Evander and 
 Alcymne," in three acts, and " Erastus," in one act. 
 They are both very instructive and affecting pieces, 
 from the contrast, which they exhibit between the 
 world and nature ; and they were performed with 
 success by some theatric companies at Leipsic and 
 Vienna. 
 
 }3ut, though poetry was Gesner's darling pursuit, 
 he in turns took up the pencil and the pen and his 
 active genius equally directed them both. In his in- 
 fancy he had received a few lessons in drawing, and 
 he had afterwards pursued the study, but without any 
 intention of becoming an artist. At the age of thirty 
 he felt that vehement desire, which may be considered' 
 as the voice of genius, and this was, in some measure, 
 excited by the sight of a beautiful collection formed 
 by Mr. Heidegger, whose daughter he had married. 
 To please his father-in-law, he studied this treasure, 
 composed principally of the best pieces of the Flemish 
 school, and to this new taste, he had almost sacrificed 
 every other. In 1765, he published ten landscapes, 
 etched and engraved by himself; and twelve more 
 appeared in 1769. From his earliest attempts in en- 
 graving, he continued to design and engrave decora- 
 tions for many works, which were issued from his 
 presses, among which were his own works, a German 
 translation of Swift, and several others. 
 
 Were we to judge from Mr. Gesner's enthusiasm 
 for his Favourite pursuits, and from the time and ;!^t- 
 tention, which he bestowed upon them, we should 
 be apt to conclude, that he found little leisure for dis- 
 charging his duty as a citizen. The contrary, how- 
 ever, was the case, for he passed almost the half of his 
 life in the first employments of the state, in each of 
 which he discharged his duty with the most scrupu- 
 lous care and fidelity. He died of a paralytic disorder, 
 lamented by his countrymen^ and by these, who had 
 
 I 
 
DICTIONARY. 431 
 
 the pleasure of his acquaintance, oil the 2d of March, 
 1788, at the age of 56. ^ , 
 
 Mr. Gesner's reputation and virtues were known 
 even to the remotest parts of Europe. The Empress 
 of Russia, Catharine II. presented him with a gold 
 medal, as a mark of her esteem. Strangers of all na- 
 tions gave him no less flattering testimonies of their 
 admiration ; and travellers thought they had seen op- 
 ]y the half of Switzerland, if they had not been in tlie 
 company of Gesner, or procured some of his land- 
 scapes or drawings. 
 
 GOLDSMITH, (Oliver) an eminent, historic, 
 dramatic and miscellaneous writer, who, with impedi- 
 ments in his address, person and temper, sufficient to 
 have kept down most men in the depths of obscurity, 
 attained a large share of literary eminence and emo- 
 lument, which, with common prudence, might have 
 protected the remainder of his life from the irritating 
 uncertainties of want ; but who, to use his own words, 
 had acquired a taste for spending thousands, before 
 he had acquired the more useful art of earning a gui- 
 nea. 
 
 •He was born at Roscommon in Ireland, in 1729, 
 and being a younger son was designed by his father 
 for the church. With this view, he was, in June, 
 1744, sent to Trinity college, Dublin, where he ob- 
 tained the degree of B. A. in 1749. He soon after, 
 however, turned his thoughts to physic, and in order to 
 qualify himself more effectually for that profession, he 
 went to attend the medical lectures, at Edinburgh in 
 1731. Here his beneficent disposition soon involved 
 him in dffficuhies, and he was obliged to leave Scot- 
 land, in consequence of his having become surety 
 to pay a considerable sum of money for a fellow- 
 student. 
 
 A few days after, about the beginning of the year 
 1754, he arrived at Sunderland, near Newcastle, where 
 
432 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 he was arrested at the suit of a taylor in Edinburgh^ 
 to whom he had given security for his friend. By 
 the good offices of Dr. Sleigh, however, and another 
 gentleman, who had known him in the college, he 
 was I'oon delivered out of the hands of the sheriff, and 
 took his passage for Rotterdam, where, after a short 
 stay, he proceeded to Brussels. He then visited a 
 great part of Flanders, and after passing sometime at 
 Strasburgh and Louvain, where he obtained a degree 
 of bachelor of physic, he accompanied an English 
 gentleman to Berne and Geneva. 
 
 It is undoubtedly a fact, that this Ingenious but un- 
 fortunate man, travelled on foot most part of his tour. | 
 He had left England with very little money ; and be- 1 
 ing of a philosophical turn, and at that time possess* 
 ing a body capable of sustaining every fatigue, and a 
 heart not easily terrified at danger, he became an en* 
 thusiast to the design he had formed cf seeing the 
 manners of different countries. He had some know- 
 ledge of the French language and of music, and he 
 played tolerably well on the german flute ; which, from 
 an amusement, became at some times the means of 
 subsistence. His learning produced him a hospital 
 reception at most of the religious houses ; and his mu- 
 sic made him welcome to the peasants of Flanders 
 and Germany. " Whenever I approached," he used 
 to say,'' a peasant's house towards nightfall, I played 
 one cf my most merry tunes 5 and that procured me 
 not only a lodging, but subsistence for the next day ; 
 but in truth (his constant expression) I must own, 
 whenever I attempted to entertain persons of a higher 
 rank, they always thought my performance odious, 
 and never made me any return for my endeavours to 
 please them.'* 
 
 On Mr. Goldsmith's arrival at Geneva, he was re* 
 commended as a proper person for a travelling tutor 
 to a young gentleman, who had been unexpectedly 
 left a considerable fortune. This v/arry youth, v/ho 
 
 ¥ 
 
DICTIONARY. 433 
 
 naa bcCR' articled to an attorney, on engaging:; wiih 
 his preceptor, made a proviso, that he should be^'y^'^'t" 
 mitted to govern hinnself, and Goldsmith soo:- 
 his pupil understood the art of directing in -.'. y 
 concerns extremely v^'ell, as avarice was hrs prec- :!- 
 nant passion. Hi's' questions u^ere usnallj. how rz-r.- 
 riey might be saved, ar:d whicli vs^as the least exivm- 
 sive course of travelling ; or whether any thing ccli^l 
 be bought, which would turn to account, when drsjife- 
 sed of again in London ? Such curiosities on the way, 
 cs could be seen for nothing he was ready enough to 
 hok at ; but if the sight of them was to be paid for, 
 he usually asserted that he had been told thev ^er^ 
 not worth seeing. Pie never paid a bill wiihont t^j- 
 serving how amazingly expensive travelling wr,', r^rrd 
 all this, though he was not yet twenty one. Duriri'lj 
 Goldsmith's continuance in Switzerland, he a-s^fd^^' 
 ously cultivated his poetical talent, ofv^'hich he \ 
 given some striking proofs, while at the colle- 
 Edinburgh, It was from hence, he sent th 
 sketch of his delightful poem called " The Trav -i 
 to his brother a clergyman in Ireland, vi'ho, gi^■' " 
 up fame and fortune, had retired with an amiar*- 
 wife to happiness and obscurity on an income of -IC' . 
 sterling a year. 
 
 From Geneva, Air. Goldsmith and his pupil visited 
 the south of France, where the young man, upc.- 
 some disagreement with his preceptor, paid him rh(^ 
 small part of his salary, which was due and embar:: ' 
 for England. Our wanderer was left once mc ! 
 en the world at large, and experienced a varied 
 difficulties in traver.>ing the greatest part of Fra: :::, 
 At length, he bent his course towards Englano, r.nd 
 arrived at Dover in the beginning of the winter 1758. 
 
 His finances were so low on his return to England, 
 that he with great difficulty got to London ; where, 
 though a bachelor of physic, he in vain applied to se / 
 rai apothecaries to be received into their sho^>s c-, a 
 journeyman. His broad Irish accent and the uncouth- 
 
 Vol, IE No. J6. I 3 
 
434 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 ness of his appearance, occasioned him to be treated 
 by these gentlemen with insult and contempt : but 
 at length, a chymist, struck with the simplicity of his 
 manners, joined to his forlorn condition, took him in- 
 to his laboratory, where he continued, till he discover- 
 ed Dr. Sleigh was in London. This gentleman re- 
 ceived him with the warmest affection, and liberally 
 invited him to share his purse, till some proper estab- 
 lishment could be procured for him. Goldsmith un- 
 willing to be a burthen to his friend, a short time af- 
 ter, eagerly embraced an offer, which was made him 
 to assist in an academy at Peckham, where he ac- 
 quitted himself greatly to the satisfaction of his em- 
 ployer. He had not been long there, however, till 
 having obtained some reputation by certain criticisms^, 
 which he had written in the Monthly Review, Mr. 
 Griffith the proprietor, engaged him as one of its 
 compilers : and as he now resolved to pursue the pro- 
 fession of wTiting, he returned to London, as the 
 mart, where abilities of every kind were sure of 
 meeting with reward and distinction.. As his finan« 
 ces were, by no means, in a good state, he determined 
 to adopt a plan of the strictest economy, and took 
 lodgings in an obscure part of the town, where he 
 wrote several ingenious little pieces, and these having 
 greatly increased his fame, introduced him as one of 
 the writers in the Public Ledger, in which his "Citi- 
 zen of the World" originally appeared, under the title 
 of *' Chinese Letters," about the year 1760. These 
 were received with great and well merited approbati- 
 on, as they were replete with sound sense and the 
 most acurate knowledge of mankind. We cannotr 
 help transcribing a quotation from one of these let- 
 ters, as it places the accuracy of the Doctor's obser- 
 vations, in a very perspicuous point of view, and seems; 
 to have predicted the late revolution in France. " As 
 the SzvedeSy' says he, *' are making concealed ap-^ 
 proaches to despotism^ the French, on the other hand^^ 
 arc imperceptibly vindicating themselves into/r^e*6^i?7.^.. 
 
DICTIONARY. 435 
 
 When I consider, that these parliaments, (the mem- 
 bers of which were all created by the court, the pre- 
 sidents of which can act only by immediate direction) 
 presume even to mention privileges and freedom, 
 who, till of late, received directions from the throne 
 with implicit humility; — when this is considered, I 
 cannot help fancying, that the genius q^ freedom^ has 
 entered that kingdom in disguise. If they have but 
 three vceak monarchs more successively on the throne, 
 the mask will be laid aside, and the country will cer- 
 tainly once more be free.'' It was very remarkable, 
 however, in Dr. Goldsmith, that though his essays 
 universally display the most accurate knowledge of 
 life and of the world, no man in his manners and con- 
 versation exhibited less. 
 
 But fortune, at last, seemed to take some notice of a 
 man, whom she had long neglected. The simplicity of 
 his character, the integrity of his heart, and the merit 
 of his productions, made his company very acceptable 
 to a number of respectable families, and he emerged 
 from his shabby apartments to the pohte end of the 
 town, where he took handsome chambers and lived 
 in a genteel stile. The publication of his ''Travel- 
 ler," and his "Vicar of Wakefield," was followed 
 by the performance of his comedy of " The Good 
 Natured Man," and placed him in the first rank of 
 the poets of the age. 
 
 Among many other persons of distinction, who 
 were desirous to know him, was the duke of Nor- 
 thumberland, and the circumstance, which attend- 
 ed his introduction to that nobleman is worthy of be- 
 ing related, in order to shew a striking trait of his 
 character. '^Iwas invited," said the Doctor, "by 
 my friend Mr. Piercy, to wait upon the Duke, in 
 consequence of the satisfsction he had received from 
 the perusal of one of my productions. I dressed my- 
 self in the best manner I could ; and after studying 
 some compliments I thought necessary on such an 
 occasion, I proceeded to Northumberland-House, and 
 
4Zt> . HEW BIOGRAPHIC At 
 
 acquainted the servants, that I had particular busine 
 with his Grace. They shewed me into an anti- 
 chamber; where, after waiting some time, a gentle- 
 man very genteely dressed made his appearance. 
 Taking him for the Duke, I delivered all the fine 
 things 1 had composed, in order to compliment hirn 
 on the honour he had done me ^ when, to my great 
 astonishment, he told me I had mistaken him for his 
 master, who would see me immediately. At that 
 instant, the Duke came into the apartment, and I 
 was so confused on the occasion, that I wanted 
 words barely sufficient to express the sense I enter- 
 tained of the Duke's politeness, and w^ent away ex- 
 tremely chagrined at the blunder I had committed." 
 
 Another feature of his character we cannot help re- 
 cording. Previous to the publication of his " De- 
 serted Village," the Bookseller had given him a note 
 for one hundred guineas for the copy, which the doc- 
 tor mentioned a few hours after to one of his friends, 
 wlio observed, that is was a very great sum for so 
 short a performance. " In truth," replied Goldsmith, 
 *' I think so too .; I have not been easy since. I receiv- 
 ed it ; therefore I will go back and return him his 
 note j" which he absolutely did, and left it entirely to 
 the bookseller, to pay him according to the profits 
 which should accrue from the sale of the piece, which, 
 however, turned out to be very considerable. 
 
 During the last rehearsal of his comedy intitled 
 " She Stoops to Conquer," which Mr. Coleman, the 
 manager, had no opinion would succeed, on the doc- 
 tor's objecting to the repetition of one of Tony Lump- 
 kin's speeches, being apprehensive it might injure the 
 play, Mr. C. with great keenness, replied, '' psha, 
 my'dear doctor, do not be fearful of squibs, when we 
 have been sitting almost these two hours upon a bar- 
 rel of gunpov.'der." The piece, however, contrary to 
 Mr. Coleman's expectations, w^as received by the au- 
 dience with uncommon applause, and Goldsmith's 
 pride v/as so much hurt by the severity of the above 
 
 ^ 
 
DICTIONARY. ' 437 
 
 observation, that it entirely put an end to his friendiihip 
 for the gentleman who made it. 
 
 Notwithstanding the great successof his pieces, by 
 some of which, it is asserted, on good authority, that 
 he cleared, in one year, about 8,000 'dollars, his cir- 
 cumstances were, by no means, in a prosperous situa- 
 tion ; which was partly owing to the excessive libe- 
 rality of his disposition, and partly owing to an un- 
 fortunate habit he had contracted of gaming, the arts 
 of which he but very little understood. 
 
 Just before his death, he had formed a design for 
 executing an Universal Dictionary of arts and scien- 
 ces, the prospectus of which he had actually published. 
 
 In this work, several of his literary friends, particu- 
 larly Sir Joshua Reynolds, Dr. Johnson, IMr. B;?au- 
 clerc and Mr. Garrick, had undertaken to furnish 
 him with articles upon different subjects, and he had 
 entertained the most sanguine expectations from the 
 success of it. The undertaking, however, did not 
 meet with that encouragement from the booksellers, 
 w'hich he had imagined it would undoubtedly receive -, 
 and he used to lament this circumstance almost to the 
 last hour of his existence. 
 
 He had been for some years, afllicted at different 
 times with a violent strangury, which contributed not 
 a little to embitter the latter part of his life ; and, 
 which united with the vexations he suffered upon 
 other occasions, brought on a kind of habitual despon- 
 dency. In this unhappy condition, he was attacked 
 by a nervous fever, to which he at last fell a victim, 
 in consequence, as it has been said, of his own un? 
 manageable temper ; for he obstinately persisted, con- 
 trary to medical advice, in taking Jameses powder, a 
 remedy which has preserved the lives of thousands, 
 but which in the hands of ignorance or temerity, has 
 been productive of considerable mischief. His death 
 happened on the 4th of April, 1774. 
 
 The universal esteem, in which Tiis poems were 
 4ield; and the repeated pleasure they gave in the pe- 
 
438 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 rusal, is a striking test of their merit. He was a stu- 
 dious and correct observer of nature ; happy in the 
 selection of his in:iages, in the choice of his subjects 
 and in the harmony of his versification ; and though 
 his embarrassed situation prevented him from putting 
 the last hand to many of his productions, his " Her- 
 mit," his " Traveller" and his " Deserted Village," 
 bid fair to claim a place among the most finished 
 pieces in the English language. 
 
 But with all his accomplishments, and powers, he 
 does not appear to have been either wise or happy. 
 Though simple, honest, humane and gcnerous,he was 
 irritable, passionate, peevish and sullen, and spleen 
 has run so high with him, that he is said often to have 
 left a party of convivial friends abruptly in the even- 
 ing, in order to go home and brood over his misfor- 
 tunes. Simplicity, however, united to the most bril- 
 liant talents, were his distinguised characteristics. — 
 Hence no line more descriptive of him than that of 
 Pope can well be imagined : 
 
 " In wit a man, simplicity a child." 
 VV^ant of economy was perhaps, the principal, if not 
 the sole source of all his uneasiness : for the money 
 which he received for his various publications, would, 
 if properly applied, have been amply sufficient to have 
 placed him far above the fear of want ; and to have 
 enabled him to pass the evening of his days free from 
 anxiety in respect to pecuniary concerns. A total 
 negligence, however, in regard to his private affairs, 
 kept him continually involved, in consequence of 
 which, his mind was often highly irritated, his days 
 greatly imbittered and his death accelerated. 
 
 Such an example should infuse into the minds of 
 young men a portion of necessary pride, not that spe- 
 cies of pride which is gratified by the cut of a coat 
 or the display of an enormous cravat; but that honest, 
 that manly pride of independence, which diligently 
 siezing the golden hours of youth and opportunity, 
 will not suffer the drones of apathy or intemperance^ 
 
 i 
 
DICTIONARY. 439 
 
 placed by fortune abov^ tbe necessity of industry, to 
 seduce them from the great work of life. For in the 
 decline of health, fame, age or fortune, those very men 
 to whose follies or vices, they have given up their 
 nights and days, will be the first to desert them, 
 rid'icule their difficulties, expose their wcai^ness and 
 insult their distress. Y/iiT - gid '\i!' ■ 
 
 Besides the works of Goldsmith, which rJ-e have* al*- 
 ready mentioned, he wrote 1 " I'he History of the 
 Earth and Animated Nature," in 6 vols. 8 vo. 2 
 " History of England,'* in 4 vols. 8vo. 3. " History 
 of Rome," 2 vols. 4. " Abridgments of the two last 
 for schools." 5. Miscellanies, &:c. 
 
 GORDON, (Hon. George) commonly called 
 Lord George Gordon, was the third son of the late 
 duke of Gordon, and born in London, Dec. 19th, 
 1750. After he had finished his education, he en- 
 tered the navy at an early age. His lordship was 
 remarkable from his infancy for the qualities of cheer- 
 fulness, and a boon companibn. He did not, how- 
 ever, display that enterprising spirit, which distin- 
 guishes the boy above his fellows, and afterwards 
 characterizes the hero amongst men. His genius 
 was purely social : he was a facetious good humour- 
 ed being, who made all his shipmates love him, and 
 his temper was tinctured with those qualities, which 
 serve to make a man rather amiable than great, ra- 
 ther happy than famous. Good nature was his pre- 
 dominant feature, and of so large a portion of this 
 endearing virtue was he possessed, that he was never 
 known in any one moment of vivacity or exhilaration 
 to sacrifice it to a joke, or suspend it for the exercise 
 of his wit. Through life, he displayed a remarkable 
 alacrity in insinuating himself into the good graces of 
 those with whom he conversed ; and, in this respect, 
 he was greatly assisted by his person. The qualities 
 ofhis heart realized the impressions which his appear- 
 
440 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 ance gave, and no man was, in his younger yeafj 
 blest with more friends and fewer enemies than he. 
 
 A very remarkable instance of his success was seen 
 at the general election, which took place about the year 
 1776. Two years before the time of election, his Icrd- 
 ship went to reside in Invernes^hire, .with the purpose 
 of standing candidate for that couinty, in opposition to 
 General Fraser. He employed those two years in a 
 canvass ; and he w^as so successful in his application^ 
 that, without the adventitious aids of bribery and cor- 
 ruption, too common in Great Britain, he secured a 
 majority of votes. He visited every part of the coun- 
 ty, and particularly the isles. He played on the bag- 
 pipes and violin to those who loved music. He 
 spoke Gaelic, and wore the tartan plaid and fillibeg, 
 in places where they were national. He made love 
 to the young ladies, and listened vvith the utmost pa- 
 tience, while the old gave him an account of their 
 clans ; and, to crown his success, he gave the gentry 
 a ball at Inverness, to which he not only invited, but 
 actually brought the young and the old from every 
 part of the country. For this purpose, he hired a 
 ship, and brought from the isle of Sky, the beautiful 
 family of the Macleods, consisting of fifteen young 
 ladies, who were the pride and admiration of the 
 north. 
 
 General Fraser was very much grieved to see his 
 interest thus overturned by a mere lad. He had re- 
 presented the county for three successive parliaments, 
 and was more hurt that the Lovat interest should be 
 destroyed in the county, than at the sum which he 
 must divest to retrieve it. He went to Lord George's 
 brother, the duke, and by a compromise, agreed to 
 purchase an English Borough for him., if he would 
 relinquish the Shire of Inverness. This agreement 
 being made. General Fraser purchased from Lord 
 Melbourne, a seat for his Lordship from the Borough 
 of Luggershall. 
 
 Being thus introduced into the house of commons. 
 
DICTIONARY. 4il 
 
 lord George, for some time, voted with the ministry. 
 He did this, however, very much against his inclina- 
 tion, for the Duchess, his sister-in-iavv, by her wit 
 and facetious reasoning, had made him a convert to 
 the principles of opposition, which she particularly 
 favoured, though the Duke, from motives of policy, 
 voted like all the rest of the elective peers. Lord 
 George placed himself beneatli the political tutelage 
 of Governor Johnstone and Mr. Burke. The first of 
 these gentlemen, who was then in his meridian of 
 anti-ministerial fame, w^as his principal director, and 
 it was, through his management, that he entirely 
 broke with the ministry. The manner was this : — 
 His Lordship had, by this time, attained to the rank 
 of lieutenant in the navy. The governor, therefore, 
 advised him to apply to Lord Sandwich for a ship. 
 His lordship had several interviews on the subject, 
 in which lord Sandwich informed him, that *' he was 
 a very young lieutenant in the service, and that there 
 were many before him, w^hom he could not dis- 
 oblige.** But not willing to give his lordship any 
 cause for dissatisfaction, he told him at the same 
 time, **that there were many frigates and ships build- 
 ing, and as soon as he could with any decency give 
 his lordship an appointment, he certainly would, as 
 well from inclination as from interest." The gover- 
 '' nor persuaded him, that this was, in the sea phrase, 
 mere palaver, and that he threw out a false signal to 
 deceive the chace. To this Mr. Burke added an 
 assurance, (and it was probably confirmed to his lord- 
 ship by the Marquis of Rockingham) that, if he should 
 through his conduct in parliament, come to a disa- 
 greement with his family, he should be returned for 
 some Borough in the Rockingham interest, at the 
 next election. On this ground, lord George went 
 again to the first lord of the admiralty, and told him, 
 that he desired to have a specific answer whether he 
 would give him a ship or not. Lord Sandwich re- 
 peated the assurances, which he had before given, 
 Vol.11. No. IQ, K 3 
 
i42 NEW BIOGRAPHItJAL 
 
 when his lordship told him, that he could not any 
 longer be deceived by empty, unmeaning promises, 
 and with the utmost deliberation took his commission 
 out of his pocket, and returned it to lord Sandwich, 
 telling him, he might do with it what he pleased. 
 
 From that time, he entered warmly into the oppo- 
 sition ; and the American affairs comJng on the car- 
 pet, he took a decided part against every measure 
 which was adopted. His lordship had been in Ame- 
 rica some years before, in the station of a midshipman, 
 and induced by that social quality, which always 
 distinguished him, had mixed a good deal v/ith the 
 inhabitants, in consequence of which, he had dis- 
 cerned, that, though they were full of resentment 
 against the authors of those measures, which had been 
 taken to oppress them, they had still a warm affec- 
 tion towards the people of Great Britain. Lord 
 C^eorge, therefore, gave his vote regularly, without^ 
 standing forth as a speaker, against. all the American 
 measures. 
 
 The first time of his public appearance was in the 
 year 1778, when in a very manly, though, perhaps, 
 not very prudent speech, he charged the minister with 
 being guilty of an " infamous attempt" to bribe him 
 to relinquish the interest of his constituents, with a 
 place. The circumstance that gave rise to so pointed' 
 an accusation, was this: — Lord North, felt himself so j 
 borne down in the house, by the irresistible eloquence^ 
 of Mr. Fox, that he determined to bring in the ce- 
 lebrated Irish orator, Henry Flood, to set in opposi- 
 tion to him. With this view, an emissary was em- 
 ployed to apply to lord George Gordon, as to a needy 
 man, to offer him, if he would give up his seat in 
 parliament, the place of vice-admiral in Scotland, 
 which happened to be then vacant. Lord George 
 rejected the offer with the utmost contempt; for, 
 though there were few of the members, who were I 
 not in more affluent circumstances than himself; yet, 
 as he always regulated his expences by his income. 
 
DICTIONARY, 
 
 44%^ 
 
 he was enabled to live independent, and set the arts- 
 and the power of the minister at defiance. 
 
 His lordship was considered in parliament, as a 
 witty and facetious member ; and, as he was uncon- 
 nected with either of the factions, which divided the 
 house, he occasionally animadverted with great free- 
 dom on both ; which gave occasion to its being said, 
 at that period, that thtre were ** three parties in par- 
 liament ; the ministry, the opposition, and lord 
 George Gordon." Several of his publications, like- 
 wise, upon miscellaneous subjects, are characterized 
 by sound argument, and illuminated with flashes of 
 genuine humour. 
 
 In the year 1778, when the British troops were 
 hard pressed by the Americans, government, not from 
 a liberality of sentiment, or a tolerating spirit ; but' 
 from the hopes of strengthening their party, proposed 
 to the catholics, to repeal the statutes enacted against 
 them, provided they would contribute to support the 
 American war, by entering into the fleets and armies.- 
 The proposal was received with avidity ; the bill for 
 repealing the penal statutes, was hurried through the 
 house ; the army and navy found new supplies, and 
 the cabinet new vigor, for prosecuting an unhappy 
 civil war. \ 
 
 But though the motives by which the British go- 
 vernment were actuated, were, most probably wrong, 
 the measure was in itself, undoubtedly right. True 
 Christianity, recognizes no other means of bringing 
 over proselytes, than persuasion : compulsion is en- 
 tirely repugnant to its spirit, for God requires a wil- 
 ling and a reasonable service, it is to be regretted, 
 however, th&t a great part of the British nation, were 
 induenced by sentiments of a far diflerent nature; 
 That spirit of intolerance, which, in direct opposition 
 to the benign principles of the gospel, had so often 
 filled the world with bloodshed and devastation, nov;» 
 stalked forth in all its horrors ; and, strange inconsist-' 
 ency I those very men,, who were continually de* 
 
444 IJEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 claiming against the tyrannical and persecuting dis- 
 position of the Romish church, were now desirous 
 of acting that very part, which they so severely re- 
 reprohated in others. 
 
 At the head of the many opponents to this just and 
 humane indulgence to the English catholics was lord" 
 George Gordon, whose reception in Scotland, after 
 the very decided part he had taken in this business, 
 was indeed sufficient to infatuate any man. He was 
 considered as the champion of the kirk, and they ve- 
 nerated this as the highest character of human exal- 
 tation. Thus courted and applauded, it was not to 
 be wondered, that he became ambitious of success. 
 He, therefore, entered fully into their designs, and as- 
 suming the character and appearance of a strict pres-' 
 byterian, became the life and soul of numerous 
 societies formed in Scotland, who actuated by a mis- 
 taken zeal, associated for the preservation of an es- 
 tablished religion, already guaranteed and fortifi- 
 ed, not only by its invincible truth and holiness, but 
 by laws, habits, length of possession, public opinion 
 and the united force of a whole empire. Inflam- 
 matory pamphlets were distributed gratis without 
 number: the news-papers and corners of the streets 
 were crowded with letters, paragraphs and hand-bi]l>, 
 teeming with invective and abuse ; all evidently tend- 
 ing to excite the people to acts of outrage. The ef- 
 fect answered the most sanguine expectations of the 
 writers, who soon beheld the flame, which they had 
 so successfully (they said unintentionally) blov/n up, 
 not only spread through every part of Scotland, but 
 extended into the southern part of the united king- 
 dom, until, at length, it literally blazed forth, in its 
 utmost violence and attended with all its horrors, in 
 the metropolis of the empire. 
 
 The wretched catholics, who were thus marked 
 out as the objects of public execration, apprehending 
 the most fatal consequences from the dangerous spirit 
 now raised, thought it prudent and necessary, early 
 
DICTIONARY. 445 
 
 in the year 1779, to acquaint Lord North, that, choos- 
 ing rather to sacrifice their own fature ease and ad- 
 vantage than to endanger the immedijite peace of their 
 own country, they would refrain from any application 
 to the legislature tor the expected, and so much wish- 
 ed for indulgence ; and in hopes of assuaging the fu- 
 ry and rage of the multitude, the letter written upon 
 the subject, by these gentlemen to the ministry in- 
 cluding that resolution and act of forbearance on their 
 side, which ought totally to have removed every new 
 object of jealousy and discontent, was published in 
 the news-papers. 
 
 • No concessions, however, could allav the fury of 
 that outrageous zeal, which was now let loose. For 
 sometime. the Roman catholics had been subjected 
 in open day-light, and in the public streets of Edin- 
 burgh to contumelious treatment and shoe kins; threats 
 from the enraged rabble, who on the 2d of February 
 1779, proceeded to put their threats in execu- 
 tion by the demolition ot two of their chapels. The 
 rioters afterwards directed their violence against the 
 catholics in other parts of the town, and totally des- 
 troyed the stock in trade and effects of several trades- 
 men of that persuasion. Some ladies of faohion of 
 that communion v/ere likewise insiili'^ 1 and obliged 
 to take refuge in the castle. 
 
 After having been sonie time engaged in hunting 
 out and annoying this miserable people, they at last 
 extended their views to the punishment or destruction 
 of those gentlemen, of whatever rank or religion, 
 who had been supposed to favor tlie late designs of 
 obtaining a relaxation of i\ie laws against popery. 
 The failure of success however, which attended 
 iheir efforts on this enlar^^ement of design and object, 
 served gr^^atly to damp the spirit of future enterprize. 
 Their first fury was directed to the house of the late 
 Dr^ Robertson, the celebrated historian, and to that 
 of Mr. Crosbie, an eminent advocate; who, standing 
 high, if not at th? hoad of his protession, was still 
 
445 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 more distinguished by the excellence of his character 
 and disposition. The enlightened views and liberal 
 sentiments of the first of these gentlemen, which 
 rendered him an enemy to all persecution, rendered 
 him an object of it to the deluded populace ; and the 
 second had submitted to the crime of being professi- 
 onally employed as counsel for that people, and of 
 having accordingly drawn up the bill which their re- 
 presentatives had intended to present to parliament. 
 But the mob found the houses of these gentlemen so 
 well armed, and guarded with so determined a reso- 
 lution by their numerous friends, that they refrained 
 froo) proceeding to extremities, and retired without 
 any farther outrage than breaking a few windows. 
 Soon after this, the infatuated populace, were pre- 
 vailed'on by the magistrates to desist. 
 
 The example of Edinburgh, was, in some degree^ 
 copied in Glasgow ; but from the spirited conduct of 
 the magistrates in that great commercial city, the 
 mob were obliged to desist, after having destroyed 
 the property of only one solitary individual. 
 
 It might naturally have been expected, that such 
 outrages in Scotland, would have induced the leaders 
 of the zealots in England, to have acted with more 
 circumspection, at least, if they had been actuated 
 by any regard to the public tranquillity. They, how- 
 ever, pursued a very different conduct. An associ- 
 ation was formed in London, upon the same princi- 
 ples with that of North Britain, and lord George Gor- 
 don w^as elected their president. Their first object 
 was, to draw up and present a petition to the house 
 of commons, requesting a repeal of the obnoxious 
 law. The petition was publicly advertised to be 
 signed by ?.]\ who approved of it, and as no pains had 
 been spared to inflame the public mind, signatures 
 were multiplied to an amazing extent. The associa- 
 tors met on May 29th, when lord George addressed 
 them in a speech of considerable length, which was 
 received with the loudest acclamations^ His lordship 
 
DICTIONARY, 44T 
 
 then moved the following resolution, which was una- 
 nimously carried, viz. " That the whole body of the 
 protestant association, do attend in St. George's fields, 
 on Friday next, at 10 o'clock in the morning, to ac- 
 company him to the house of commons, on the deli- 
 very of the protestant petition," which, however, he 
 informed them, that he would not present, unless he 
 were attended by twenty thousand people. 
 
 Upon the 2d of June, a vast crowd of people as- 
 sembled, at the place appointed, with blue cockades, 
 colours flying, and the words " No Popery" inscribed 
 on their hats. Lord George arranged them in four 
 divisions, and took his station in the centre of the 
 Scotch, who were distinguished by martial music, 
 and after haranguing them, and recommending good 
 order ?Lnd ^firmness yYepsLired to the house of commons, 
 followed, as was generally supposed, by about sixty- 
 thousand people. Charity induces us to believe, 
 that, in such a number, there were many, who went 
 unwarily and without any evil intention ; but it would 
 be credulity in the extreme, to doubt, that there were 
 some amongst them, who foresaw, who intended, and 
 who had practised to accomplish the purposes, which 
 ensued. 
 
 A very short time disclosed, that one of the ob- 
 jects which this multitude was collected to effectuate, 
 was to overawe the legislature, to influence their de- 
 liberations, and obtain the alteration of a law by their 
 force, and by their numbers. To petition for the 
 passing, or the repeal of any act, is the undoubted 
 inherent right of freemen ; yet, under the name 
 and colour of petitioning, to assume command, and 
 to dictate to the legislature, is the annihilation of all 
 order and government. The fatal experience of 
 France, during the late revolution, with respect to 
 the danger of tumultuous petitions, abundantly ve- 
 rifies the justice of this remark. But, besides the 
 manifest impropriety of bringing so great a multitude 
 together, there is a positive law against such a pro- 
 
443 NEW BiaQRAPHICAL 
 
 ceeding in,,.(^X:eat Biitain,^,-.^?$tatiite having been 
 passed in theiSih year qi" Chai^Ms II. eiiacting, that 
 FiQ petition , to the kiiig, or eilher.ho^se of parliament, 
 for alijeration of matters established by Jaw, in church 
 or state, ;ShaU be presented by more tlian ten per- 
 sons. )mU no icm svjBff to*! Jf bkjcASi d: ■ ■'jJ 
 
 Upon their arrival at the house, lord George moved ^ 
 to have the bill repealed immediately, and was se- 
 conded by alderman Bull, supported by several other 
 members. The commons, perceiving themselves thus 
 besieged, wished to avoid the disgrace of being forced, 
 and proposed to adjourn; but his lordship finding 
 himself so well supported from without, pressed them 
 to proceed. The people became clamorous, vocife- 
 rating, ,^>,<repeal, repeal," upon which lord; .George 
 Vv'ent to the gallery, which looks into the lobby, and 
 addressing them, read the coronation oath, and de- 
 claj-ed '* he was of opinion that his majesty had vio- 
 lated it, and was in the same predicament with James 
 II. after the abdication," entreated them to be firm, 
 and informed them, that the " ministry proposed called 
 ing on the military, but it was too rash a step to be 
 ha;earded, besides, that the military were generally 
 disaffected." 
 
 'Du^ring the debates, wiiich ensued upon this occa« 
 siaiUj,theassoeiators being in possession of the lobby, 
 theij^orntistona ^\^ere kept confined for several hours, 
 before they could divide upon the question; but the 
 arrival of the magistrates and guards having removed 
 the imfjediment, it was rejected by a majority of 196 
 tosi'Xonly. in-v- ^y' '. ; .:.. - ; ^^-...-I'.rj.- ;, .u.: 
 
 The pethionei^s finding themselves thus disappK^iiint- 
 ed in their objeet seenaed to disperse. Many of the 
 persons so assembiedimo doubt, retired to their dwel- 
 lings^: but someuiors desperate; and active remained 
 to convincettise'legislature, that 4he." mens^eS which 
 they had threateBed, vwete: not fruitless; that they 
 liad not abandoned.their :purpose5- but meant to carry 
 it into iiill execution. When night fell, the -houses 
 
 % 
 
DICTIONARY. 449 
 
 of the Sardinian and Bavarian ambassadors were at- 
 tacked and their chapels plundered and set on fire. 
 Had such an outrage been committed on a British 
 public minister, in any of those countries, the most 
 superstitious and bigotted to its established religion, 
 what reproach vvould it not have cast on that conn- 
 try? What indignation and abhorrence would it not 
 have justly excited in the breasts of the English na- 
 tion ? Yet upon the tolerant and enlightened land of 
 England itself was that reproach now brought. 
 
 Upon the 3d of June there was a seeming quiet, a 
 very memorable circumstance ! for sudden tumults, 
 when they subside are over. To revive a tumult 
 evinces something of settled influence, and something 
 so like design, that it is impossible for the most can- 
 did mind not to conceive, that there lies at the bottom 
 a pre-concerted settled plan of operation. Sunday the 
 next day, a day set apart for religious worship, and 
 not to be violated, even by the labours of honest in- 
 dustry, in broad sushine, public buildings and private 
 houses in Moorfields were attacked and entered, and 
 the furniture deliberately brought out and consumed 
 by bonfires. And all this was done in the view of pa- 
 tient magistrates. 
 
 Some magistrates and some individuals had, indeed, 
 in the beginning of the disturbances exerted them- 
 selves, and several who had been active in the demo- 
 lition of the ambassadors' houses, had been commit- 
 ted. On Monday the populace began to destroy the 
 houses of the magistrates and other persons who had 
 been instrumental in apprehending them, but these 
 outrages, great as they were, fell short of those com- 
 mitted on the two following days, which will ever 
 remain a stain on the British annals ; fresh insults of 
 the most daring and aggravated nature, were offered 
 to parliament, and London exhibited, in many placesy 
 the image of a city recently stormed and sacked ; 
 every quarter was alarmed; neither age noi sex, nor 
 eminence of station nor sanction of character, nor 
 
 Vol. IL No. 1G. L3 
 
450 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL | 
 
 even an humble though honest obscurity were any 
 protection against the malevolent fury and destructive 
 rage of the vile barrditti, who had now collected. 
 
 But it was not against individuals alone, that their 
 operations were now directed. What has ever been 
 in all ages and all countries, the last effort of the most 
 desperate conspirators, was now their object. The 
 goals were attacked, the felons released, and men S 
 whose lives their crimes had forfeited to the justice of 
 the law, were set loose to join their impious hands 
 in the work. The city was now fired in different I 
 parts, and in the midst of the general horror and con- 1 
 fusion, in order more effectually to prevent the ex- 1 
 tinguishing of the flames, an attempt to cut off the ; 
 new river water, and an attack on the credit of the 
 kingdom, by an attempt against the bank of Eng- 
 land were made. Providentially, however, for the 
 British nation, they were checked in their career 
 by the arrival of the military, who now poured into 
 the city from all quarters. Orders were issued by 
 the king in council, for the military to act without 
 waiting for directions from the civil magistrates, and 
 to use force for dispersing the illegal and tumultuous . 
 assemblies of the people. As soon as the troops be- 
 gan to act with vigour agreeably to their orders, the 
 different mobs were speedily dispersed, and the rio- 
 ters scattered, but in the effecting of this service, 
 about 500 people were killed and severely wounded. 
 
 Religion, the sacred name of religion, and of that 
 most peaceable system of Christianity, the protestant 
 church, was made the profane pretext for assaulting 
 the government, trampling upon the laws of the 
 country, and violating the first great precept of their 1 
 duty to God, and to their neighbours. The pretext 
 — for there can be none so weak, so uncandid, or so 
 -unjust to the character of the reformed church, as to 
 believe, that any religious motives, could, by any 
 perversioa of human reason, induce men, to attack 
 maeistrates, release ^'^lon'*? H^cf-mv *H^ ponrre of 
 
 i 
 
 i 
 
l^ACilONARY. 451 
 
 public credit, and laj^^ashes t|^e ca^jyt^ f>f Ifl^^ 
 testant feith. ,r , . ,: , ,,■ ,/l 
 
 From the 8th of June, the riots were totally at an, 
 end, and every thing remained quiet. A number of 
 persons were taken up ; and about 5 o^cloc}:, on the 
 afternoon of the 10th, lord George Gordon, was se- 
 cured and conveyed to the Tower. On the 5th of 
 February, 1781, he was brought to trial, and acquit- 
 ted ; a circumstance, no doubt, fortunate for the tran- 
 quillity of the nation : — for, had he been committed, 
 it is hardly possible to believe, that those men, who 
 had been guided all along, by the phrenzy of enthusi- 
 asm, would have submitted without clamour, to a 
 punishment, which they would have conceived to 
 be unmerited. Great rejoicings were made in Scot- 
 land on the occasion, and a considerable sum collea- 
 ted, to reimburse his expences. 
 
 Nothing very remarkable appears in the history of 
 his lordship, till the year 1784-, when government, 
 having resolved, to restore to the descendants of the 
 original owners, the estates, which had been forfeited, 
 by the rebellion of 1745, he immediately protested 
 against the measure, and wrote a petition to the 
 bowse of Lords, in which, amongst other things, he 
 observed, " that the people, groaned most heavily, 
 under a great burthen of taxes ; heavier and greater, 
 than in any former reign, and that it became the le- 
 gislature, to relieve their immediate wants, rather than 
 to confer emoluments upon men, who had abandon- 
 ed their own country, on account of their attachment 
 to arbitrary power, and had since lavished their blood 
 and treasure, in fighting for the despots of Europe. 
 That his own disaffection to his majesty's different 
 administrations, for these ten years past, arose from 
 his sincere abhorrence of their principles, their poli- 
 tics, and their practices, foreign and domestic ; and 
 that he could not now take the oaths to government, 
 with a clear conscience, as the law stands,, even to 
 save his life. And that, as none of these expatriated^ 
 
4#i|^ KLW BICGRAI*«ICAL 
 
 nobler, had ev'er distinguished themselves, in the 
 cause of freedom, the people had reason to suspect, 
 that^bpth their changing their allegiance from the 
 house of ^iuari^ and the unexpected favour shewn 
 thenn by the court, were owing to administration's 
 adopting those tyrannical principles, for which the 
 chiefs had been expelled from Britain." •,'!/-);( 
 
 Puring the same year, when the emperor of Crcr* 
 inapy was threatning to deprive the Dutch of the 
 navigation of the Scheldt, and, for that purpose, was 
 drawing together his numerous armies, towards the 
 irontiers of Holland, Lord George, whose imagina* 
 tion ~ w!as constantly haunted with the horrors of po- 
 pci^y,, began to spread abroad, that the emperor's 
 views w^ere hostile to the prolestant interest, and, not- 
 'withstanding the horrid calamities w^hich had already 
 been occasioned to his country, by the frantic zeal of 
 himself and party, he again, as president of the asso- 
 ciation, sounded the tocsin of alarm and conjured up 
 those phantoms w^iich had so lately been the ostensi- 
 ble pretext of such disgraceful outrages in the British 
 rnetr^pplis. In the fervor of his holy zeal for the good 
 cause, r.he sent memorials to the different States of 
 Europe, addressed the protestants of every denomina- 
 tion, and without any authority or commission from 
 government, was negociating with seamen and sol- 
 diers to fight the battles of the Dutch. At such pro- 
 € c^^dings the administration ^^'as greatly alarmed, but 
 they were soon after relieved from their fears, by a 
 <.om promise having taken place between the Dutch 
 Jind ^the emperor. 
 
 When the m/mistry had laid a duty on Scotch dis- 
 tilleries, almost amounting to a prohibition, lord 
 George wrote circular letters to all the towns in Great 
 Britain, which by their petitions and remonstrances, 
 cor^peJled the ministry to modify and alter their dar- 
 jing scheme. He opposed, with various success, the 
 tax on windows, candles, stamps, postage, &c. and 
 though his efforts were not equal to his wishes, yet 
 
DICTIONARY. 45^ 
 
 they certainly ?inswered as a powerful ch4?cfc lipon the 
 encroaching spirit of the minister. 
 
 Lord George was the first to oppose with firmnessf 
 and constancy, the shop tax ; he summoned meetings 
 in various parts of the country, and distributed hand- 
 bills through the 4Sity, reprobating its partiality anS^^ 
 injustice ; but as weak parents idolize their own chiK- ' 
 dren, however vicious or decrepid they may be, ^^ 
 was the minister inveterately attached to this favorite 
 offspring of his inventive genius. Lord George went 
 along the city, prevailing upon the people to shut 
 their shops and put up long poles with black crap^, 
 and this inscription, '^ This shop to be let, inquire of 
 Billy Pitt." This perseverance gave uneasiness to 
 the cabinet, and they were obliged at length, to grant 
 to fear, what they had so long refused to justice. 
 
 It will not be expected in a memoir of ihis kind, 
 that we should follow this extraordinary man through 
 X\\p. various active scenes in which he was perpetually 
 engaged, for like the troubled ocean, he was never 
 at rest. To every measure of administration, he was" 
 uniformly opposed, and though his conduct, in this 
 respect, might have sometimes proceeded from an un- 
 conquerable aversion to tyranny, yet, even his friends 
 must acknowledge, that he frequently occasioned 
 great uneasiness to minivSters, by interfering in mattefs 
 with which he had no concern, and that, upon ofhef 
 occasions, the methods he used to effect a redress o|^ 
 grievances, were, by no means, compatible with'thfe ' 
 public tranquillity. " ^^imoiqm 
 
 Lord George, for a long time, had regularly attend'- ' 
 cd the lectures of the Rev. Mr. YVilson, an eminent 
 dissenting clergyman, for whom he had contracted a 
 very sincere esteem. Mr. Wilson fell sick, and in 
 his dying moments, was attended by lord George. 
 As he made no v.'ill, a dispute arose about his pro- 
 perty, and it was neces^sary that lord George's depo- 
 sition should be taken in the Bishop's court. He of- 
 fered to appear bcfjre a civil nnglstrale, but object- 
 
iSi NE'vV EIOGRAPHICAJL 
 
 ed to an ecclesiastic, partly from conscientious norr- 
 conformity, and partly from political motives. The 
 archbishop of Canterbury, wishing to compromise 
 the matter, proposed to walit on his lordship, at his 
 own liouse, but as his lordship's object was to make 
 h a nation?.] question, this condescension of his grace 
 had no effect upon his conduct. After many fruitless 
 endeavours to induce him to submit, he was excom- 
 municnted in May 1786. He laughed at their pro- 
 ceedings, and only observed, that " to expel him 
 from a society to which hfe never belonged, was an- 
 -absurdity w^orthy of an Archbishop." 
 ^' But the career of this trulv eccentric character, was 
 rjfiow hastening to a close. This very man, who had 
 ^^'-'^o long been venerated by the giddy and unthinking 
 ^Wultitudc as the redoubted hero ot the protestant faith, 
 feegan to entertain serious doubts concerning the 
 truths of the whole christian system, and pretending 
 to have observed, •' that its professors were both at 
 -^Hrariance with revelation and reason, whilst the Jews 
 '''literally adhered to the laws ot Moses," embraced 
 •'Judaism. To this extraordinary and almost unprece- 
 '^ented step, in Great Britain, must be attributed his 
 ^future degradation ; for it was literally signing his po- 
 'Titical death. Nothing could have given greater sa- 
 '^'^tisfaction at St. James's, nor have tended more to 
 '\ liave estranged the affections of the people, by some 
 'bf whom he was now considered as hypocritical, tur- 
 bulent, and am.bitious, whilst others imputed his con- 
 Version to mental derangement. 
 
 It was no sooner universally believed, tl^at he had 
 
 embraced Judaism, than the courts of Versailles and 
 
 London, determined to prosecute him ; the former, 
 
 "for a libel against the Queen of France, and the other, 
 
 ^^•^or a seditious pamphlet, relative to Botany-Bay. 
 
 '^Tcr both of these, he was brought to trial, early in 
 
 ^'^<^i787, and found GuiUij. Though lord George, had 
 
 ^•"^^xperienced a great alteration in the disposition of 
 
 ■^fee people towards him, in cohsequetice of his recent 
 
 1 
 
 j 
 
DICTIONARY, 455 
 
 conversion, it was still doubtful, if gorernn:ient would 
 judge it prudent to punish him ; and this accounts for 
 the very extraordinary circumstance of his being per- 
 mitted to withdraw without bail, after a verdict of 
 guilt had been pronounced against him. Thinking 
 it dangerous, however^ to continue in Engknd.^ and 
 being desirous, if possible, to avoid the storm, he re- 
 tired to Holland ; where, though he was at first well 
 received, by the principal revolutionists, he w^s i^t 
 long permitted to continue, as he was ordered t<p^quit 
 their territory at a very short notice. ; 
 
 He got over to Harwich, 27th July, 11 Bt^ from 
 whence, he returned, iii-cog. to Birmingham, and re- 
 sided at the house oi a Jew, distinguished by a Jong 
 ^^beard, and a broad shaded hat. He strictly adhered 
 to the religious ceremonies of his new brethren ; un- 
 derwent the operation of circumcision, and was called 
 by the name of Israel Abraham George Gcyrdan. 
 ♦ JBut, though he was much admired by many of his 
 - associates, and looked upon, by some, as a second 
 : Moses, he was not allowed to enjoy repose ; for his 
 landlord betrayed him, for a sum of money, in con- 
 seqence of which, he was apprehended on the 7th 
 December, and conducted as a prisoner to London. 
 Upon the 28th of January, i788, he received sentence 
 to be imprisoned in Newgate, for the space of 
 five years, and at the expiration of that time, to pay a 
 fine of 2220 dollars, and to find securities for his 
 good behaviour for fourteen years; himself, in forty- 
 four thousand four hundred dollars, and two sureties 
 in eleven thousand dollars each. 
 
 From the time of his confinement in Newgate, 
 though he was liberal to others of a different way of 
 thinking, yet, as he conformed to all the outward ce- 
 remonies of the ancient Fathers himself, he expected 
 the same conformity from those, who professed a si- 
 milar faith. This practice, to which he invariably 
 adhered, induced him to refuse adniittance to all those 
 Jews> who, m compliance with the modern .customs. 
 
45(5 NEW.BIOGRAPHICAL' 
 
 shaved their beards, and uncovered their heads. In 
 a political sense, however, lord George's compliance 
 with the laws of Moses proved fatal to his interest. 
 The rich Jews, who, at first, visited him, in great 
 numbers, being incensed at the freedom of his reproofs, 
 joined in the general opinion of his being insane, and 
 saw him no more. 
 
 In July 1789, the news of the destruction of the 
 Bastile, having reached England, he wrote a petition 
 to the National Assembly of France, praying that bo- 
 dy, to solicit his liberation from the court of London. 
 iiuti the committee to whom the petition was refer- 
 red, reported, that " there was no ground for delibe- 
 rating on his request^ and, that being a foreigner, 
 and detained in the pri'sons of England, he should 
 apply for redress, to the tribunal of that kingdom." 
 This circumstance, however, gave rise to a corres- 
 pondence between him and Gregoire, a leading mem- 
 ber of the Assembly, and, though his lordship was, 
 at that time, generally considered 3Lsi?isa?iey no opi- 
 nion- of that kind, could possibly be formed, from a 
 perusal of his letters, upon this occasion. He also 
 wrote a petition to Louis, who is said to have promis- 
 ed immediate relief: but, whether his majesty was 
 sincere in his professions, or the court of London, 
 thinking it dangerous, to set such a man at liberty, 
 lent a deaf ear to the French king's application, in 
 his favour, is uncertain. He was still, however, con- 
 fined amongst the felons in Newgate. 
 
 Upon the 28th of January, 1793, when the term 
 of his imprisonment had expired, he went, accom- 
 panied by a number of his friends, to the court of 
 King's Bench, to give in the requisite securities ; and 
 appeared in a long beard, with his head covered. 
 The crowd was so great, that he entered with dif- 
 ficulty ; and as scon as the judges had taken their 
 seats, they ordered his hat to be taken off. Upon 
 which, he very deliberately bound his head round 
 with a three coloured handkerchief, in form of a tur- 
 
DICTIONARY. 457 
 
 ban ; a circumstance, which, though trifling in it- 
 self, could not, at that period, have been viewed 
 with indiffeTence by the judges ; and which shewed, 
 in the clearest light, that the proud spirit of the pri- 
 soner, was not, as yet, broken. He then addressed 
 the court, in a very pertinent speech, with respect 
 to tlie quahncations of his intended bail ; but as go- 
 vernment appeared to have been determined, tnat 
 his Jordship should, if possible, be confined for life, 
 they were rejected. He was, of course, remanded 
 to Newgate, where he died, 1st November, 1793, 
 of a malignant fever, which had for some time raged 
 amongst the felons. The dreary hours of his con- 
 finement, were devoted to reading, writing, conver- 
 sation with friends, who came to visit him ; or amus- 
 ing himself with his violin, on which, as well as on 
 several other instruments, he was a good performer. 
 No man was more beloved by his fellow-prisoners* 
 than lord George. He divided his substance with 
 those who had no money, and did every thing in his 
 power to alleviate their distress. He clothed th^ 
 naked, and fed the hungry ; but his fortune was 
 inadequate to relieve all their wants. 
 
 The behaviour of this extraordinary character, to- 
 wards the close of his life, is thus described by his 
 biographer, Robert Watson, M. D. *' A gentleman 
 asked him, if he chose a minister of any religion to 
 attend him, but he declined, saying ^he had led such 
 a life, as made him not afraid to die.' About the 
 eighth day of his illness, I acquainted him with the ex- 
 ecution of the late Queen of France ; upon which, 
 he very emphatically said, ' that she was not the last 
 of the royal corps, that would fall victims to the 
 guillotine.' A few hours before his death, he repeat- 
 edly exclaimed, *ODake! Duke!!' and after sing- 
 ing Ca Ira, bade the world an eternal adieu." "- 
 
 If^M). \Q, Ms ^•^^''^ 
 
458 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 1 
 
 GREENE, (Nathaniel) Major General of the 
 forces of the United States, was born in the town of 
 Warwick, in Kent county, Rhode-Island, in or about 
 the year 174J, and was descended from some of the 
 first settlers, in that government. His father was an 
 anchor-smith, and was extensively concerned in some 
 very lucrative iron works, and also in shipping. His 
 son Nathaniel, the subject of this memoir, being 
 prompted by a laudable ambition for knowledge, 
 learned the Latin language, when a boy, chiefly by 
 his own industry. He, likewise, procured a small li- 
 brary, by the perusal of which, he, in a short time, 
 greatly improved his mind. Little remarkable is 
 transmitted of his more early years, except, that he 
 was particularly fond of military history, to the study 
 of which he devoted a great part of his time and 
 attention. 
 
 Being endowed with a great degree of judgment 
 and penetration, and, at the same time, possessed 
 of the most affable and conciliating manners, he 
 soon acquired a very considerable share of public 
 confidence, in consequence of which, he was, when 
 a young man, chosen a member of assembly of the 
 then colony of Rhode-Island. This trust, in which 
 he gave the highest satisfaction to his constituents, 
 he continued to possess, until the commencement of 
 hostilities between this country and Great Britain. 
 
 After the skirmishes of Lexington and Concord, 
 when a spirit of resistance was diffused almost instan- 
 taneously over the whole continent, Rhode-Island w^as 
 not deficient in her contributions for the general de- 
 fence. She raised three regiments of n»litia, the 
 command of which was given to Mr. Greene, who 
 v;as nominated brigadier general, and wno, though 
 educated in the pacific principles of quakerism, 
 thought himself called by the peculiarity of the times, 
 to take an active part in defence of the liberties of his 
 country. Upon his assuming the military character, 
 the quakers renounced all connection with him as a 
 
DICTIONARY. 459^ 
 
 member of their rellgioas body, and as is usual in such 
 cases, read him out oF their meeting. 
 
 As soon as he had coHected his troops, he led them 
 to Cambridge, and was the first of the generals of 
 New England, who testified his regard for the illustri- 
 ous Washington, by addressing him on his arrival 
 and appointment as commander in chief, and declar- 
 ing the high satisfaction he should feel in serving un- 
 der his command. On the 17th March, i776, he 
 was present at the evacuation of Boston, by a force, 
 which, in England, had been vauntingly stated as tre- 
 ble the number, which would be requisite to dragoon 
 America, into unconditional submission. 
 
 General Greene's merit and abilities, as well in the 
 council as in the field, could not long escape the pe- 
 netrating eye of general Waijhington, who reposed 
 in him the utmost confidence, and paid a particular 
 attention to his advice and opinion, on all difficult oc- 
 casions. This excited the jealousy of several officers 
 of superior rank, who were not wanting in their en- 
 deavours to supplant him. Their efl^orts, however, 
 were ineffectual, as the commander in chief knew his 
 worth and prized it as it deserved. 
 
 He was appointed Major General by congress,- 
 26th August, 1776, and on the 26th December of 
 the same year, he was present at the capture of the 
 Hessians at Trenton, and on the 2d January follow- 
 ing, at the battle ot Princeton, two enterprizes not 
 more happily planned, than judiciously and bravely 
 executed ; in both of which, general Greene highly 
 distinguished himself, serving his noviciate under the 
 American Fabius. At the battle of Germantown^ 
 4th October, 1777, he commanded the left wing of 
 the American army, and his utmost endeavours were 
 exerted to retrieve the fortune of that day, in whiclx 
 his conduct met with the entire approbation of the 
 commander in chief. 
 
 in March, 1778, he was appointed Quarter-master- 
 general, which office he accepted under a stipulation^ 
 
460 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 that his rank In the army should not . thereby be 
 affected, and, that he should retain his right to com- 
 mand in time of action, according to his rank and se« 
 niority. This he exercised on the 28th June of th 
 same year, at the battle of Monmouth, where he com?j 
 inanded the right wing of the army. 
 
 Soon after this, an attack being planned by the 
 Americans, in conjunction with the French fleet, 
 against the British garrison at Newport, Rhode-Isl- 
 and, general Sullivan was appointed to the command, 
 under whom general Greene served. This attempt 
 however, was unsuccessful ; for the French fleet hav- 
 ing sailed out of harbour, to engage lord Howe, were 
 dispersed by a storm, in consequence of which, th^ 
 Americans were obliged to raise the siege, and upon 
 this occasion, general Greene displayed a great de- 
 gree of skill in drawing off" the army in safety. 
 
 The British generals, finding at last, that their hopes 
 of executing some decisive stroke to the northward, 
 ^vere entirely frustrated, turned their attention to the 
 southern states, as less capable of defence, and more 
 likely to reward their invaders with plunder. A grand 
 expedition was, therefore, planned at Nevi^-York, 
 where the,. army embarked on the 26th December, 
 1779. Thiy landed on the 12th February, 1780, 
 within about 30 miles of Charlestown, which, after a 
 brave defence, was surrendered to Sir Henry Clinton, 
 on the 1 1th of May. A series of ill success followed 
 this unfortunate event. The American arms, in 
 South-Carolina, ,were in general unsuccessful 3 and 
 the inhabitants were obliged to submit to the invaders, 
 whose impolitic severity, was extremely ill calculated 
 to answer any of the objects for which the war had 
 been commenced. 
 
 Affairs were thus circumstanced, when general 
 Greene was aopointed to the command of the Ame- 
 rican forces in the southern district. He arrived at 
 Charlotte, on the 2d day of December, 1780, accom- 
 panied by general Morgan, a brave officer, who had 
 
 
DICTIONARY. 461 
 
 distinguished himself to the northward, at the 
 capture of general Burgoyne. He fouad the for- 
 ces he was to command, reduced to a very small num- 
 jj^ber, by defeat and desertion. The returns were 
 nine hundred and seventy nine continentals, and one 
 thousand and thirteen militia. Military stores, pro- 
 x^isions, forage and all things necessary, were, if pos- 
 sible, in a more reducf d state than his army. His 
 men were without pay and almost without clothing ; 
 and supplies of the latter were not to be had, but 
 from a distance of two hundred miles. In this peri- 
 lous and embarrassed situation, he had to oppose a 
 respectable and victorious army. Fortunately for him, 
 the conduct of some of the friends of royalty obliged 
 numbers, otherwise disposed, to remain neuter, to 
 take up arms in their own defence. This, and the 
 prudent measures the general took, for removing the 
 innumerable difficulties, with which he was surroun<l- 
 ed, and for conciliating the affections of the inhabi- 
 tants, soon brought together a considerable force, 
 far inferior, however, to that of the British, who deem- 
 ed the country perfectly subjugated. 
 
 After he had recruited his forces with all the friends 
 to the revolution, whom he could assemble, he* sent a 
 considerable detachment under general Morgan, to 
 the western extremities of the state, to protect the 
 well disposed inhabitants from the ravages of the to- 
 nes. This force, which was the first, that had, for a 
 considerable time appeared there, on the side of the 
 Americans, inspired the friends of liberty vv^ith new 
 courage, so that numbers of them crowded to the 
 standard of general Morgan, who, at lengtli, became 
 so formidable, that lord Cornwallis thought proper to 
 send colonel Tarleton, to dislodge him from the station 
 he had taken. This officer, who was at the head of 
 a thousand regular troops, and had two field pieces, 
 came up on the 17th January, 1781, at a place called 
 Cowpens, with general Morgan, whose force was 
 considerably inferior, and composed of two thirds mi- 
 
462 HEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 J 
 
 litia, and one third continentals. An engagemen^was 
 the inimediate consequence. 
 .n3Ch© fere.vky of this sketch, wiii not allow a detail of 
 the dispositions made on either side. Let it sufFice, # 
 therefore, to say, that the brave Morgan gained a 
 complete victory. Upwards of five hundred of the 
 British were made prisoners ; a very considerable 
 nugi her were killed : eight hundred stand of arms, 
 twonftejdi pijQCcs, and thirty-five baggage waggons fell 
 into the hands o( the victors, who had only twelve J 
 killed and sixty wounded. * 
 
 Thi^-^rilliant success quite disconcerted the plan 
 of operation formed by lord Cornwaiiis, who, having 
 entertained no idea of any enemy to oppose him in 
 South-Carolina, the conquest of which he deemed 
 complete, had made every preparation for carrying 
 his arms to the northward, to gather the laurels 
 wMch, he imagined, awaited him in that quarter, 1 
 But as he now found himself obliged to postpone that 
 design, he marched with rapidity after general Mor- 
 gan, in hopes not only of recovering the prisoners, 
 but also of.revem^ino^Tarleton's losses. The Amerl- 
 can general, by a rapidity of movements, and the in- 
 terference of providence, eJuded his efforts; and ge- 
 neral C>reene effected a junction of the two divisions 
 of his little army, on the 7th of February. Still, how- 
 ever, he was so far inferior to lord Cornwaiiis, that 
 he was obliijed to retreat northward, and notwith- 
 Standing the vigilance and activity of his enemy, he 
 brought his men in safety into Virginia. 
 
 Here he received some reinforcements, and having 
 ' the promise of more, he again returned into North Ca- 
 rolina, where he was hopeful, upon their arrival, of 
 being able to act upon the offensive. He encamped 
 in the vicinity of Lord Cornwaliis's army, and by a va- 
 riety of the best manoeuvres, so judiciously supported 
 thear.^mgementof his troops, that during three weeks, 
 ■while the enemy remained near him, he prevented 
 tbcni from taking any advantage of their superiority. 
 
DICTIONARY, 463* 
 
 and even cut off all opportunity of their receiving 
 succour from the royalists. t~' > 
 
 About the beginning of March, having effected a 
 junction with a continental regiment, and two con- 
 •isiderable bodies ot Virginia and North Carolina mili- 
 tia, he determined to attack the British Commanddr 
 without loss of time, " being persuaded," as he de- 
 clared in his subsequent dispatches, " that if he was 
 successful, it would prove ruinous to the enemy, and 
 if otherwise, that it would be but a partial evil to 
 him." On the 14th, he arrived at Guilford court-house 
 the British then lying at twelve miles distance. 
 
 General Greene's army now consisted of about 
 four thousand five hundred men, of whom nearly two 
 thirds were North Carolina and Virginia militia ; the 
 British w^ere about two thousand four hundred ; all 
 regular troops, and the greater part inured to toil and 
 service in their long expedition under Lord Cornwal- 
 ]is, who, on the morning of the 15th being apprized 
 of General Greene's intentions, marched to meet him. 
 The latter disposed his army in three lines : the militia 
 of North Carolina were in front, the second line wa^ 
 composed of those of Virginia, and the third, whicli 
 was the flower of the arrny^ was formed of continental 
 troops, nearly fifteen hundred in number. They were 
 flanked on both sides by cavalry and riflemen, and 
 •> -were posted on a rising ground, a mile and a half 
 from Guilford court-house. 
 
 The engagement commenced at half an hour after 
 one o'clock, by a brisk cannonade, after v^-hich the Bri- 
 tish advanced in three columns, and attacked the first 
 line, composed, as we have already observed, of North 
 Carolina militia. Those who probably had never been in 
 action before, were panic struck at the approach of 
 the enemy, and many of them ran away even without 
 firing a gun ; part of them, however, fired ; but they 
 immediately followed the example of their comrades. 
 Their officers made every possible effort to rally thetrj^, 
 but neither the advantage of their position, nor aaj. 
 
Mi »EW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 other consideration could induce them to maintain 
 th^ir ground. This shameful cowardice had a great 
 effect upon the issue of the battle. The next lines, 
 however, behaved much better. They fought with 
 great bravery, and after they were thrown into disor- ■• 
 der, rallied, returned to the charge, and kept up a 
 heavy fire for along time ; "but were at length broken 
 and driven on the third line,when the engagement be- 
 came general, very severe and very bloody. At length 
 superiority of discipline got the better of superiority of 
 numbers. The conflict endured an hour and a half, 
 when General Greene, finding that the enemy were 
 on the point of encircling his troops, judged it pru- 
 dent to order a retreat. 
 
 This was a hard tough t action. Lord Cornwallis 
 stated his losses, in killed, wounded and missing, at 
 five hundred and thirty-two, among whom were seve- 
 ral oflicers of considerable rank. The loss of the 
 Americans was about four hundred, killed and wound* 
 ed. However, this was not so severely felt, as the 
 desertion of a considerable number of rnilitia, who 
 fled homewards and came no more near the army. 
 To those who are used to consider the thousands 
 killed on the plains of Germany, very frequently with- 
 out producing any visible effect on the fate of a war, 
 the number here mentioned must appear insignificant. 
 But this battle was, nevertheless, decisive in its con- 
 sequences; for though his lordship had issued a pro- 
 clamation, setting forth his complete victory and call- 
 ing on all loyal subjects to take an active part in re- 
 storing good government, yet on the 19th he was 
 obliged to begin a retrogade movement and to return 
 to Wilmington, which is situated at a distance of 
 two hundred miles from the place of action. He was 
 even under the necessity of abandoning his hospital, 
 containing betvv'een seventy and eighty wounded Bri- 
 tish officers and soldiers, besides all the wounded 
 Americans taken at Guilford court-house. General 
 Greene expected that Cornwallis would have advan- 
 
DICTIONARY. 465 
 
 ced, and therefore had prepared for another action ; 
 but, upon hearing that his lordship attempted to 
 avoid it, he pursued him the next day, with all pos- 
 sible expedition. In this situaition of affairs. General 
 Greene had no means of providing for the wounded 
 either of his own or of the British forces ; but that 
 they might not be left to suffer by themselves, he wrote 
 to some neighbouring quakers, informing them that 
 he had been brought up in that religious persuasion, 
 and observing, that a good opportunity now presented 
 itself for the exercise of their humanity, without con- 
 fiding themselves to either party, by taking care of 
 the wounded both British and American, who, w^ith- 
 out such aid, must inevitably perish. His recommenda- 
 tion was productive of the desired effect ; for the qua- 
 kers cheerfully supplied the hospital with whatever 
 was wanting, till the sick and wounded recovered. 
 
 Some time after the battle of Guilford, General 
 Greene determined to return to South Carolina to en- 
 deavor to expel the British from that state. His first 
 object was to attempt the reduction of Camden, where 
 Lord Rawdon was posted with about nine hundred 
 men. The strength of this place, which was covered 
 on the South and East sides by a river and a creek, 
 and to the ^Vestward and Northward by six redoubts, 
 rendered it impracticable to carry it by storm with 
 the small army, which general Greene had, consist- 
 ing of 843 continental infantry, besides 56 cavalry 
 and 31 mounted dragoons together with 234 North- 
 Carolina militia. He, therefore, encamped at about 
 a mile from the town, in order to prevent supplies 
 from being brought in, and to take advantage ot such 
 favourable circumstances as might occur. 
 
 Lord Rawdon*s situation was extremely delicate. 
 Colonel Watson, whom he had some time before de- 
 tached, for the protection of the eastern frontiers, and 
 to whom he had, on intelligence of general Greene's 
 intentions, sent orders to return to Camden, was so 
 effectually watched by general Marian, that it was 
 
 Vol. II. No, 16. Ns 
 
466 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 ^ 
 
 impossible for him to obey. His lordship's supplies 
 were, moreover, very precarious and should general 
 Greene's reinforcements arrive, he might be so closely 
 invested, as to be, at* length, obliged to surrender. 
 In this dilemma, the best expedient, which suggested ' 
 itself, was a bold attack ; for which purposes he arm- 
 ed every person with him, capable of carrying a mus- 
 ket, not excepting his musicians and drummers. 
 He sallied out on the 25th of April, and attacked ge- 
 neral Greene in his camp. The defence was obsti- 
 nate, and for some part of the engagement, the ad* 
 vantage appeared to be in favour of America. Lieu- 
 tenant Colonel Washington, v/ho commanded the ca- 
 valry, had at one time not less than two hundred Bri- 
 tish prisoners. However, by the misconduct of one 
 of the American regiments, victory was snatched 
 from general Greene, and he was compelled to re- 
 treat. He lost in the action two hundred and sixty- 
 four in killed, wounded and prisoners, and Rawdon 
 lost two hundred and fifty-eight. 
 
 There was a great similarity between the conse- 
 <5uences of the affair at Guilford and those of this ac- 
 tion. In the former. Lord Cornwallis v/as successful ; 
 but was afterwards obliged lo retreat two hundred 
 miles from the scene of action and for a time aban- 
 doned the grand object of penetrating to the north- 
 ward. In the latter. Lord Rawdon had the honour 
 of the field ; but was shortly after reduced to the ne- 
 cessity of abandoning his post, and leaving behind 
 him a number of sick and wounded. 
 
 The evacuation of Camden, with the vigilance of ge- 
 neral Greene and the several officers he employed, gave 
 a new complexion to affairs in South-Carolina, where 
 the British ascendency declined more rapidly, than 
 it had been established. The numerous forts, garris- 
 oned by the enemy, fell, one after the other, into the 
 hands of the Americans. Orangeburgh, Motte, 
 Watson, Georgetown, Granby, and all the others, 
 fort Ninety-six excepted, wer« surrendered, and a ve* 
 
BfCTIOlfARY. 46T 
 
 ly considerable number of prisoners of war, with mi- 
 litary stores and artillery were found in them. 
 
 On the 22d of May, general Greene sat down be- 
 fore Ninety-six, with the main part of his little army. 
 The siege was carried on, for a considerable time, 
 with great spirit, and the place was defended witb 
 equal bravery. At length, the worTcs were so far re- 
 duced, that a surrender must have been made in a 
 few days, when a reinforcement of three regiments 
 from Europe arrived at Charleston, which enabled 
 lord Rawdon to proceed to relieve this important post. 
 The superiority of the enemy's force, reduced Gene- 
 ral Greene to the alternative of abandoning the siege 
 altogether ; or, previous to their arrival, of attempt- 
 ing the fort by storm. The latter was more agreea- 
 ble to his enterprising spirit, and an attack was 
 made on the 19th of June. He was repulsed, how- 
 ever, with the loss of one hundred and fifty men ; in 
 consequence of which, he raised the siege, and re- 
 treated over the Saluda. 
 
 Dr. Ramsay, in speaking of the state of affairs, 
 about this period, makes the following observations : 
 " truly distressing was the situation of the American 
 army, when in the grasp of victory, to be obliged to 
 expose themselves to a hazardous assault, and after- 
 wards to abandon the siege : when they were nearly 
 masters of the whole country, to be compelled to re- 
 treat to its extremity ; after subduing the greatest 
 part of the force sent against them, to be under the 
 necessity of encountering still greater reinforcements, 
 when their remote situation precluded them from the 
 hope of receiving a single recruit. In this gloomy si- 
 tuation, there were not wanting persons, who ad- 
 vised general Greene to leave the state, and retire 
 with his remaining forces to Virginia. To arguments 
 and suggestions of this kind, he nobly replied — " I 
 w^ill recover the country, or die in the attempt." This 
 distinguished officer, whose genius was most vigo- 
 rous in those extremities, when feeble minds abari- 
 
468 NEW 'BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 don themselves to despair, adopted the only resource^ 
 now left him, of avoiding an engagement, until the 
 British force should be divided. 
 
 It was on the 20th of June, that the American ar- 
 my crossed the Saluda, on their way to Broad river, 
 and they reached the Enoree on the 24th, Thus far 
 lord Rawdon pursued them ; when, finding it impos* 
 sible to overtake them, he faced about, and returned ; 
 as he consoled himself with the apprehension that 
 they were gone to North-Carolina or Virginia. But, 
 they halted and refreshed themselves, near the Cross- 
 roads, till general Greene was informed, that his 
 ]ordship, with about half his army, was marching to 
 the Congaree. Upon this, the American invalids 
 and heavy baggage, filed off towards Camden, and 
 all the effective infantry marched towards Wynsbo- 
 rough, to meet his lordship at fort Granby. The 
 cavalry was previously detached to watch his motions ; 
 and, this they did, so effectually, that a party of them, 
 charged and took, a captain, a lieutenant, a cornet, 
 and forty -five privates of the British dragoons, with 
 all their horses and accoutrements, within one mile 
 of their encampment. On the day following, (the 
 4th of July) his lordship marched from the Congaree, 
 to Orangeburgh, where he was joined by the Sd re- 
 giment, with a convoy of provisions 3 and general 
 Greene, after collecting the militia, under Sumpter 
 and Marian, and attaching them to the continentals, 
 offered him battle on the 12th. His lordship, how- 
 ever, iinding himself secure in a strong position, 
 would not venture out, and Greene was too weak 
 to attack him with any prospect of success. 
 
 Some skirmishes, of no great moment, took place 
 between detached parties, in the remaining part of 
 July, and in August. On the 9th of September, ge- 
 neral Greene, having assembled about seventeen hun- 
 dred men, proceeded to attack the British, who, un- 
 der the command of colonel Stewart, were posted at 
 Eutaw springs. The British were rather superior to 
 
©ICTIONARY. 469 
 
 them in point of numbers ; and the American army 
 was chiefly composed of militia, and new raised levies. 
 General Greene drew up his forces in two lines : 
 the first, consisted of militia from North and South- 
 Carolina, and was commanded by generals Marian, 
 Pickens, and colonel de Mulmedy : the second, was 
 composed of continental troops from North-Carolina, 
 Virginia, and Alaryland, and were led on by general 
 Sampter, colonel Campbell, and colonel O. Wil- 
 liams. Lieutenant colonel Lee, v/ith his legion, co- 
 vered the right flank, and lieutenant colonel Hender- 
 son, with the state troops, the left. A corps de-re- 
 serve, was formed of the cavalry, under lieutenant 
 colonel Washington, and the Delaware troops, under 
 captain Kirkwood. As the Americans came for- 
 ward to the attack, they fell in with some advanced 
 parties of the enemy, at about two or three miles 
 ahead of the main body. Those, being closely pur^ 
 sued, were driven back, and the action soon became 
 general. The militia were, at length, forced to give 
 ■way, but were bravely supported by the second line. 
 In the hottest part of the engagement, general Greene, 
 ordered the Maryland and Virginia continentals, to 
 charge with trailed arms, and this decided the fate 
 of the day. " Nothing," says Dr. Ramsay, ** could 
 surpass the intrepidity, of both officers and men, on 
 this occasion. They rushed on, in good order, 
 through a heavy cannonade, and a shower of mus- 
 ketry, with such unshaken resolution, that they 
 bore down all before them. The British were broken, 
 closely pursued, ar^i upwards of five hundred of them 
 taken prisoners. \)n their retreat, however, num- 
 bers threw themselves, into a strong brick house ; 
 others took post, in apiquetted garden, and amongst 
 impenetrable shrubs. The eagerness of the Ameri- 
 cans, urged them to attack the enemy in these posi-^ 
 tions. Colonel W^ashington, made every exertion to 
 dislodge them from the thickets, but failed : lie had 
 his horse shot ,undcrhim, v.'bs wounded and taken pri- 
 
470 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 soner. Four six pounders, (two of which were aban- 
 doned by the enemy) were ordered up before the 
 house, and pushed on, so much under the fire from 
 thence, snd the thickets, that they could not be 
 brought off again ; v^rhen, general Greene, judging 
 all farther efibrts improper, ordered the troops to 
 ivitiidraw- The Americans collected all their wound- 
 ed, except those under the command of the fire from 
 the house, and retired to the ground from which they 
 marched in the morning, there being no water near- 
 er, and the troops ready to faint, with the heat, and 
 want of refreshment, the action having continued 
 near four hours, and being, by far, the hottest general 
 Greene ever saw. He did not withdraw, however, 
 without leaving a strong piquet on the field of battle. 
 The loss of the Americans, was about five hundred ; 
 that of the British, about eleven hundred. 
 
 General Greene, was honoured by congress, with a 
 British standard, and a gold medal, emblematical of 
 the engagement and success, " for his wise, decisive, 
 and magnanimous conduct, in the action at Eutaw 
 springs ; in which, with a force, inferior in number, 
 to that of the enemy, he obtained a most signal vic- 
 tory." 
 
 In the evening of the day succeeding the engage- 
 ment, colonel Stewart abandoned his post, and re- 
 treated towards Charleston, leaving behind him, up- 
 wards of seventy of his wounded, and a thousand 
 stand of arms. He was pursued a considerable dis- 
 tance, but in vain. 
 
 The battle of Eutaw springs, produced most signal 
 consequences, in favour of America. The British, 
 who had, for such a length of time, lorded it abso- 
 lutely in Sou^^h-Carolina, were shortly after that event, 
 obliged to confine themselves in Charleston, whence, 
 they never ventured, but to make predatory excur- 
 sions, with bodies of cavalry, which, in general, met 
 wiih a very warm, and very unwelcome reception. 
 
 During the relaxation, which followed, a dange- 
 
DICTIONASY. 471 
 
 rous plot was formed, by some turbulent and muti- 
 nous persons, in the army, to deliver up their brave 
 general to the British. This treasonable design owed 
 its rise, to the hardships, wants, and calamities, of the 
 soldiers who were ill paid, ill clothed, and ill fed. 
 The project, however, was providentiailv discovered ; 
 and by the firmness, and moderation of the general 
 happily suppressed. 
 
 The surrender of lord Cornwallis, whose enterpri- 
 sing spirit, had been, by the British ministry, expected 
 to repair the losses, and to wipe away the disgrace, 
 which had been incurred, through the inactivity and 
 indolence of other generals, having convinced them 
 of the impracticability of subjugating America, they 
 discontinued offensive operations, in every quarter. 
 From the beginning of the year, 1782, it was cur- 
 rently reported, that Charleston was speedily to be 
 evacuated. It was officially announced, on the 7th 
 of August, but did not take place, until the 17th of 
 December. 
 
 The happy period, at length arrived, when, by the 
 virtue and bravery of her sons, aided by the bounty 
 of heaven, America compelled her invaders, to recog- 
 nize htx Independence, Then her armies quitted the 
 tented fields, and retired, to cultivate the arts of peace 
 and happiness. Amongst the rest, general Greene, 
 re-visited his native state, where he proved as va- 
 luable a citizen, as the Carolinas had witnessed him 
 a gallant soldier. Dissentions and jealousies, had ex- 
 tended their destructive influence among the Rhode- 
 Islanders, whose animosity had risen to such a de- 
 gree, as to threaten the most serious ill consequen- 
 ces : general Greene, exerted himself, to restore har- 
 mony and peace amongst them once more, and was 
 happily successful. 
 
 In October, i785, he sailed to Georgia, where he 
 had a considerable estate, not far distant from Savan- 
 nah. Here he passed his time, occupied in his do- 
 mestic concernsj until the hour of his mortaiitv 
 
47^ HEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 approadied. While walking out one day, without an 
 umbrella, the intense rays of the sun, beating upon 
 his head, overpowered him, and brought on an in- 
 flammation of the brain, which carried him off a few 
 days after, on the 19th of the same month. 
 
 When the melancholy accountof his death, arrived 
 at Savannah, the people were struck with the deep- 
 est sorrow. All business was suspended ; — The shops 
 and stores, throughout the tov/n, were shut — and 
 the shipping in the harbour, had their colours half- 
 masted. 
 
 The body was brought to Savannah, and interred 
 on the 20th. The funeral procession, being attend- 
 ed by the Cincinnati, Militia, &;c. &;c. 
 
 Immediately after the interment of the corps, the 
 members of the Cincinnati, came to the following 
 resolution : — " That, as a token of the high respect 
 and veneration, in which this society hold the me- 
 mory of their late illustrious brother. Major General 
 Greene^ deceased, George Washington Greene^ his 
 eldest son, be admitted a member of this society, to 
 take his seat, on his arriving at the age, of eighteen 
 years." 
 
 General Greene, left behind him, a wife and five 
 children ; the eldest of whom, at the time of his 
 death, was about eleven years old. 
 
 His Excellency was a man of a humane and truly 
 benevolent disposition, but resolutely severe, when 
 the same was necessary. The situation in which he 
 was placed as commander in the Southern depart- 
 ment, was such as required a combination of milita- 
 ry skill, undaunted courage, and unceasing exertions; 
 and we have already seen how remarkably the quali- 
 fications concentred in him. To the firmness, intre- 
 pidity and heroism of a soldier, he united the most 
 conciliating manners. The cruelties which were 
 practised by the partizans of both sides, he held in 
 the utmost abhorrence, and uniformly inculcated a 
 spirit of moderation : and, to a prevailing knowledge 
 of this disposition, he ascribed his being spared by 
 
DICTIONARY. 473 
 
 the tories in Carolina, who, he thought, could have 
 shot him repeatedly, if they had been so determined. 
 On the 1 2th August'86, the United States in congress 
 assembled came to the following resolution :■ — " That 
 a monument be erected to the memory of Nathaniel 
 Greene, Esq. at the seat of the federal government, 
 with the following inscription :- — 
 
 SACRED 
 
 to the Memory of 
 
 Nathaniel Greene, Esq. 
 
 who departed this Life, 
 
 the nineteenth of Jane, MDCCLXXXVI. 
 
 Late Major General 
 
 in the service of the United States, 
 
 and Commander of their Army 
 
 in the Southern Department. 
 
 The United States, in Congress Assembled, 
 
 in honour of his 
 
 Patriotism, Valour and Ability, 
 
 have erected this 
 
 MONUMENT. 
 
 GREGORY, (James) one of the most eminent 
 mathematicians of the last century, was born at Aber- 
 deen, in Scotland, in 1638. He was educated in the 
 Latin language, at the grammar school, and went 
 through the usual course of academical studies in 
 the Marischal College of that city. 
 
 At the age of 24, he published a treatise, in Latin, 
 on optics, to which was subjoined an appendix, ex- 
 hibiting the solution of some of the most difficult 
 problems of astronomy. This is a work of great ge- 
 nius, in which, he gave the world an invention of his 
 own, and one of the most valuable of the modern dis- 
 coveries, the construction of the reflecting telescope. 
 This discovery, immediately attracted the attention 
 of mathematicians, vv' ho, were soon convinced, of its 
 great importance to the sciences of optics and a»tro- 
 
 VoL. n. Na. 16. OS 
 
47>4 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 nomy. The manner of placing the two specula 
 upon the same axis, appearing to Sir Isaac Newton, 
 to be attended with the disadvantage of losing the 
 central rays of the larger speculum, he proposed an 
 improvement on the instrument, by giving an oblique 
 position to the smaller speculum, and placing the 
 eye-glass in the side of the tube. But it is worth 
 remarking, that the Newtonian construction of that 
 instrument, was long abandoned for the original, or 
 Gregorian, which is, at this day, universally employ- 
 ed, where the instrument is of moderate size ; though 
 Mr. Herschell has preferred the Newtonian, for the 
 construction of those immense telescopes, which he 
 has, of late years, so sucessfully employed, in ob- 
 serving the heavens. 
 
 Soon after the ' appearance of his first work, Mr. 
 Gregory went to the university of Padua, where he 
 continued for several years, and in 1667, published, 
 in Latin, his " Quadrature of the Circle and Hyper- 
 bole," in which he propounded another' discovery of 
 his own, the invention of an infinitely converging 
 series for the areas of the circle and hyperbole. To 
 this treatise, when re-published, in 1688, he added a 
 new work,- entitled " Geometriae pars Universalis," 
 in which he is allowed to have shewn, for the first 
 time, a method for the transmutation of curves. 
 These works, naturally recommended Mr. Gregory 
 to the notice of the greatest mathematicians of the 
 age, in consequence of which, he was choseti a mem- 
 ber of the Royal Society of London ; and by many 
 excellent papers, greatly enriched the philosophical 
 transactions of that respectable body. 
 
 In 1668, he was elected professor of mathematics, 
 in the university of St. Andrews, which office he held 
 till the year 1674, when he was called to Edinburgh, 
 to fill the mathematical chair in that university. This 
 place, however, he had held for little more than a 
 year, when, in October, 1675, being employed in 
 shewing the satellites of Jupiter, through a telescope^ 
 
-DicTiONAirY. 4T^ 
 
 io some of his pupils, he was suddenly struck with 
 total blindness, and died a few days after, at the ear- 
 ly age of thirty-seven. 
 
 GREGORY, (David) Savilian professor of astro- 
 nomy at Oxford, nephew of the above mentioned 
 James Gregory, was born at Aberdeen, in 1661, in 
 .which city he received the earlier parts of his educa- 
 tion. He completed his studies at Edinburgh, and 
 being possessed of the mathematical papers of his 
 uncle, soon distinguished himself, likewise, as the 
 heir of his genius. In the 23d year of his age, he was 
 elected professor of mathematics in the university of 
 Edinburgh, and published, in the same year, a geo- 
 metrical treatise, exhibiting a general method of 
 measuring figures of any kind. He saw, very early, 
 the excellence of the Newtonian philosophy, and had 
 the merit of being the first, who introduced it into the. 
 schools, by his public lectures, at Edinburgh. 
 
 In 1691, he was appointed Savilian professor of 
 astronomy, at Oxford. In i693, he published in the 
 Philosophical Transactions, a solution of the Floren- 
 tine problem, " Dc Tcsludlne Veliformi Quadribili,'* 
 and he continued to communicate to the public, from„ 
 time to time, many ingenious mathematical papers, 
 through the same channel. 
 
 In 1702,. our author published, at Oxford, ^' Aslro- 
 noynicc FhysiccCy et Geometricce elemental' a work, 
 which is accounted his master piece. It is founded 
 on the Newtonian docrines, and was esteemed by Sir 
 Isaac Newton himself, as a most excellent explana-- 
 tion and defence of his philosophy. In the following 
 year, he gave to the world, an edition in folio, of the 
 works of Euclid, in Greek and Latin ; in which, al- 
 though it contains all the treatises attributed to Ea- 
 clid. Dr. Gregory, has been careful to point out such,- 
 as he had reason to believe, were the productions of 
 some other inferior geometrician. He had, likewise, 
 soon after, began the publication of the Conies of 
 
476 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 Apollonius in the same year ; but had made but small 
 progress in that undertaking, when he died, in the 
 49th year of his age, A. D. J 7 10. 
 
 To the genius and abilities of David Gregory, the 
 most celebrated mathematicians of the age. Sir Isaac 
 ^Newton, Dr. Halley, and Dr. Keill, have given am- 
 ple testimonies. Besides those works, which he pub- 
 lished in his life time, he left in manuscript " A short 
 Treatise of the Nature and Arithmetic of Logarithms," 
 ^?vhich was printed at the end of Dr Commandine*s 
 Euclid, and a " Treatise of Practical Geometry", 
 which was afterwards translated, and published in 
 1745 by Mr. M'Laurin. 
 
 Mathematical genius appears, for some time to have 
 been hereditary in the family of the Gregorys; for 
 besides those we have already mentioned, there was 
 James the brother of David, who for S3 years viz. from 
 1691 to 1725, filled the mathematical chair at Edin- 
 burgh, with great abilities. There was, likewise, 
 another brother, named Charles, who w^as appointed 
 professor of mathematics, at St. Aiidrews, in 1707. 
 This office he held with great credit, for thirty-two 
 years; and, resigning in 1739, was succeeded by his 
 son, who eminently inherited the talents of the fami- 
 ly, and died in 176^. 
 
 GREGORY, (Dr. John) professor of medicine 
 in the university of Edinburgh — the son of Dr. James 
 Gregory, professor of medicine, in King's College, 
 Aberdeen, and grandson of James, the inventor of the 
 Gregorian telescope, was born, June 3d, 1724. Los- 
 ing his father, when only in the 7th year of his age, 
 the care of his education devolved on his grandfather. 
 Principal Chalmers, under whose eye, he completed 
 in King's College, his studies in the Latin and Greek 
 languages, and in the science of ethics, mathema- 
 tics, and natural philosophy. His preceptor in phi- 
 losophy and mathematics was, Dr. Thomas Gordon^ 
 
DICTIONARY. 477 
 
 who is still a professor in King's College, and who 
 has filled an academical chair, with great reputation, 
 for above half a century. 
 
 In the year 1742, Mr. Gregory went to Edinburgh, 
 where the school of medicine was rising to that ce- 
 lebrity, which has since so remarkably distinguished 
 it. After having attended the lectures of the diffe- 
 rent professors, for three years, he set out for Leyden, 
 in order that he might make himself still more per- 
 fect in the knowledge of his profession, under the 
 very able teachers, who then filled the different medi- 
 cal chairs of that university. While at this place, he 
 had the honour of receiving from King's College, of 
 Aberdeen, his alma mater, who regarded him as a 
 favourite son, an unsolicited degree of Doctor of Me- 
 dicine : and, soon after, on his return thither, from 
 Holland, he was elected professor of philosophy, in 
 the same university. In this capacity, he read lee* 
 tures, during the years 1747, '48, and '49, on mathe- 
 matics, natural and moral philosophy. In the end of 
 1749, however, he chose to resign his professorship of 
 philosophy, his views being turned chiefly to the prac- 
 tice of physic, with w^hich, he apprehended the du- 
 ties of this professorship too much interfered. 
 
 After continuing for some time, as a physician in 
 his native city, finding that the field of medical prac- 
 tice was, in a great measure, pre-occupied by his el- 
 der brother. Dr. James Gregory and others of some 
 note in their profession, our author determined to try 
 his fortune in London. Thither he accordingly went 
 in 1754; and, being already known by reputation as 
 a man of genius, he found an easy introduction to 
 many persons of distinction, both in the literary and 
 polite world. The late lord George Lyttleton, in par- 
 ticular, was his friend and patron. An attachment 
 which was founded on a striking similarity of manners, 
 of tastes and of dispositions, grew up into a firm and 
 permanent friendship ; and to that nobleman, to whom 
 Dr. Gregory was wont to communicate all his literary 
 
.478 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 prcductior.s, the world is indebted for the publieation 
 of the *' Comparative View of the State and Faculties 
 ( f JNIan, with those of the Animal World," which 
 mad-^ him first known as an author. 
 
 In 17 54, Dr. Gregory was chosen Fellow of the 
 "Roypl Society of London, and as he was daily ad- 
 vancing in the public esteem, it is not to be doubted, 
 (hat, had he continued his residence in that metropo- 
 lis, his professional talents would have found their re- 
 ward in a very extensive practice. But the death of 
 b.is brother Dr. James Gregory, in ^November 1755, 
 occasioning a vacancy in the professorship of physic, 
 in King's college, y\berdeen, which he was solicited 
 to fill, he returned to his native country, in the be- 
 ginning of the fallowing year, and took upon him the 
 duties of that ofBce. 
 
 Here our author remained till the end of the year 
 1761, when, urged by a very laudable ambition, he 
 changed his place of residence for Edinburgh, as 
 being a more extensive field of practice. His friends 
 )\) that metropolis had represented to him the situa- 
 tion of the college of medicine, as favourable to his 
 views of filling a professional chair in that universitv, 
 which accordingly he obtained in 1766, on the resig- 
 nation of Dr. Rutherford, professor of the practice of 
 physic. In the same year he had the honor of being 
 appointed first physician to his majesty for Scotlandr 
 
 On his first establishment in the university of Edin- 
 Irjrgh, Dr. Gregory gave lectures on the practice of 
 physic, during the years 1767, 1768 and 1769. Af- 
 terwards by agreem.ent with Dr. Cullen, professor of 
 the theory of physic, these two eminent men gave al- 
 ternate courses of the theory and of the practice. As 
 a public speaker. Dr. Gregory's manner was simple 
 and animated j and he expressed his ideas with un- 
 common perspicuity. By the assistance of a few notes 
 he lectured with great facility and eles^ance. The 
 only lectures which he fully committed to writing, 
 were those introductory discourses, which he read kt 
 
DICTIONARY, 479 
 
 the beginning of his annual course, and these he pub- 
 lished in 1770, under the title of " Lectures on the 
 Duties and Quahfications of a Physician." 
 
 Dr. Gregory in this work has two objects chieHy 
 in^iew; i. He points out those accomplishmen-s 
 which qualify a physician for performing the practi- 
 cal duties of his profession. II. He gives rules for 
 inquiry, which he tliought necessary to be observed 
 in the study of medicine, as a branch of natural know- 
 ledge. His remarks on the former of these subjects, 
 and particularly on the delicate attentions necessary 
 to those, whose minds are debilitated by disease, are 
 results of the author's acquaintance with human na- 
 ture, as well as of that benignity of temper, by which 
 all his writings, are distinguished. Neither does his 
 character appear in a less advantageous light from his 
 liberal remarks on the lucratbce part of his profession. 
 On this topic he expresses himself with considerable 
 animation, against the unworthy artifices and servi!o 
 manners, by which it has too often been degraded. 
 In the three first lectures Dr Gregory's remarks on 
 these and other topics highly interesting to practicdi 
 physicians fully justify his general inference, "Thar 
 the profession of medicine requires a more compre- 
 hensive mind than any other,*' This will appear to be 
 an unquestionable truth to every person w^io considers 
 the great variety of speculative knowledge, and of 
 literary accomplishments, which ought necessarily to 
 be acquired in a medical education ; beside the saga- 
 city, the address and the knowledge of mankind, 
 which ought to regulate the physician, in the prac- 
 tical part of his art. 
 
 The three last lectures are principally confined to 
 medicine as a branch of natural knowledge. Thev 
 exhibit more fully than any of our author's other works, 
 the extent of his philosophical views, and from t'nein 
 we have the greatest reason to lament tlie loss, whicli 
 the science of medicine sustained by his death. Ni» 
 intelligent reader can possibly peruse them without 
 
'ISO NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 regretting, that his ingenious and benevolent exertions 
 foT the improvement of the medical art were so early 
 interrupted. 
 
 In the year 1772, Dr. Gregory published " Elements 
 of the Practice of Phytic for the use of students." 
 This work was solely intended for his own pupils, and, 
 in his lectures, he commented upon it as a text book. 
 His design was to have comprehended in it, the whole 
 series of diseases, of which he treated in his lectures. 
 But this intention he did not live long enough to ac- 
 complish, having brought down the work no farther 
 than to the end of the class of Febrile diseases. In 
 his introductory lectures, formerly mentioned. Dr. 
 Gregory had delivered his sentiments with regard to 
 the proper mode of conducting medical inquiries in the 
 present imperfect state of that science. He never at- 
 tempted to mislead the students by flattering views 
 of the perfection of the medical art. On the contrary, 
 he anxiously pointed out its defects, which he consi- 
 dered as a principal step to promote its improvement. 
 In this view, he was careful to expose the futility of 
 those theories and hypotheses, which had been most 
 generally received and perpetually inculcated, the 
 danger of fabricating systems upon a limitted, and 
 often a very improper knowledge of facts. Yet, in 
 the work last mentioned, it will appear, from the or- 
 der in which he has treated of the several diseases, 
 that he did not entirely neglect the systematic ar- 
 rangements of other authors. These, however, he 
 warned his pupils, that he had not adopted, from any 
 conviction of the rectitude of those theories, to which 
 they referred, but only as affording that degree of 
 method, and regularity of plans, which is found to be 
 the best help to the study of any science. Consider- 
 ing a rational theory of physic, to be as yet a desi- 
 deratum ; it was his object to communicate to his pu- 
 pils, the greatest portion of practical knowledge, as 
 the only basis, on which such a theory could ever be 
 raised. His method, in treating of the several dis- 
 
DICTIONARY. 481 
 
 eases, was first to mention those symptoms, which are 
 understood among physicians, to characterize or define 
 a disease. With great precision, he points out the 
 diagnostic symptoms, or those which distinguish one 
 disease from others that resemble it, and marks the 
 prognostics, which enable the physician, to form pro- 
 bable conjectures concerning the event of a disease. 
 He next specified the causes of diseases, namely, the 
 pre-disposing, the occasional, and the proximate. 
 Finally, he taught the general plan of cure, the 
 proper remedies to be employed, and the cautions 
 requisite in administering them. Thus desirous of 
 establishing the science of medicine upon the solid 
 foundation of practice and experience, he uniform- 
 ly endeavoured, both by his precepts and example, to 
 impress on the minds of his pupils, the necessity of 
 great caution, either in admitting, or rejecting, what 
 are commonly, though often, very improperly, called 
 medical facts or cases. 
 
 Dr. Gregory, soon after the death of his wife, and, 
 as he himself informs us, for the amusement of his so- 
 litary hours, employed himself in the composition of 
 that admirable tract, entitled " A Father s Legacy to 
 his Daughters^' a work, which, though certainly 
 never intended by its author, for the public eye, it 
 would have been an unwarrantable diminution of his 
 fame, and a capricious refusal, of a general benefit to 
 mankind, to have limited to the sole purpose for 
 which it was originally designed. It was, therefore, 
 with great propriety, published after the author's 
 death, by his eldest son. This work, is a most ami- 
 able display of the piety and goodness of his heart, 
 and his consummate knowledge of human nature, 
 and of the world. It manifests such solicitude for 
 their welfare, as strongly recommends the advice 
 which he gives. He speaks of the female sex, in the 
 most honourable terms, and labours to increase its 
 \-- estimation, whilst he plainly, yet genteely and tender- 
 ly, points out the errors, into which young hdies are 
 Vol.11, No. 16. P3 
 
482 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 apt to fall. It is particularly observable, in what 
 high and honourable terms he speaks of the holy 
 scriptures, of christian worship, and faithful ministers ; 
 how warmly he recommends to his daughters, the 
 serious and devout worship of God, in public and 
 private. He dwells largely on that temper and be* 
 haviour, which were particularly suited to their edu- 
 cation, rank, and circumstances ; and recommends 
 that gentleness, benevolence, and modesty, which 
 adorn the character of the ladies, and do partis 
 eular honour to their sex. His advices, with regard 
 to love, courtship and marriage, arc peculiarly wise 
 and interesting. They shew what careful observa- 
 tions he had made on female domestic conduct, and 
 on the different effects of possessing, or wanting the 
 virtues and qualifications,, which he recommends. 
 There is something" highly curious, animated, and 
 useful to them, in his directions, how to judge of, and 
 manifest an honourable passion in, and towards the 
 other sex ; and, in the very accurate, and useful dis- 
 tinction, which he makes between true and false de- 
 licacy. Nothing can be more striking and affecting ; 
 nothing more likely to give his paternal advices their 
 desired effect, than the respectful and affectionate 
 manner, in which he mentions his wife, their mother,, 
 and the irreparable loss, which he and they had sus- 
 tained, by her early death. In short, in this tract,, 
 the professor shines with peculiar lustre, as a husband 
 and father, and it is admirably adapted to promote 
 domestic happiness. 
 
 Good sense, was the most conspicuous feature in 
 the m.ind of Dr. Gregory ; but, what is, by no mean«> 
 always the case, it was united with genius and acutc- 
 ness of intellect. From his i8th year, he had beea 
 occasionally affected with the gout, which he inhe- 
 rited from his mother, who, in 1770, died suddenly,, 
 when sitting at table. Dr. Gregory had prognostica- 
 ted to himself, a similar death ; an event, of which», 
 :aiiipngst his friends, he oftea talked, but had no ap- 
 
 
BICTIOKARY. ' 4S3 
 
 prehension of the nearness of its approach. In the 
 beginning of the year 1793, in conversation with his 
 6on, the present Dr. Janr;es Gregory, the latter re- 
 marking, that having for the three preceding years, 
 had no return of the fir, he might make his account 
 with a pretty severe attack, at that season, he receiv- 
 ed the information with some degree of anger, as he 
 felt himself then in his usual state of health. The 
 prediction, however, was true ; for having gone to 
 bed, on the 9th of February, 1793, with no apparent 
 disorder, he was found dead in the morning. 
 
 The countenance of Dr. Gregory, from a fullness of 
 feature, and heaviness of eye, exhibited no marks of 
 superior powers of mind. But in conveisation, his 
 features became animated, and his eye expressive. 
 He had a warmth of tone and gesture, which gave a 
 pleasing effect to every thing which he uttered ; but, 
 united with this animation, there was in him a gtn- 
 tleness and simplicity of manners, which, with little 
 attention to the external and regulated forms of po* 
 liteness, was more engaging than the most finished 
 address. In the company of literary men, his conver- 
 sation flowed wiih ease, and, whatever was the sub- 
 ject, he uniformly delivered his sentiments, without 
 affectation or reserve. He ])ossessed a large share of 
 the social and benevolent aflectioriS, which, in the ex- 
 ercise of his profession, manifested themselves, in ma^ 
 ny nameless, but important attentions to those under his 
 care ; attentions, which, proceeding in him, from an 
 extended principle of humanity, were not squared to 
 the circumstances or rank of the patient, but ever be- 
 stowed most liberally, where they were most requi- 
 site. In the care of his pupils, he was not satisfied 
 with a faithful discharge of his public duties. To 
 many of these, strangers in the country, and far re- 
 moved from all who had a natural interest in their 
 concerns, it was matter of no small importance to en- 
 joy the acquaintance and countenance of one so uni- 
 versally acquainted and esteemed. Through him the^^ 
 
484 KEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 found an easy introduction to an enlarged and elegant 
 society ; and, what to them was still more valuable, 
 they experienced in him a friend, who was ever easy 
 of access, and ready to assist them to the utmost, 
 with his counsel and patronage. The same spirit of 
 philanthrophy, endeared him, in a particular manner 
 to his intimate friends, amongst whom, may be rank- 
 ed, most of the Scottish literati of his time. 
 
 Some time after his death, the professorship of the 
 theory of medicine, was bestowed upon his eldest 
 son, the present Dr. James Gregory, who, has since 
 succeeded to the practical chair, lately filled by that 
 truly respectable professor. Dr. Cullen. 
 
 We cannot conclude this article, without expres- 
 sing our regret, that amongst the practitioners of phy- 
 sic in the United states, there are too many, whose 
 talents and accomplishments, fall infinitely short of 
 those recommended by Dr. Gregory, as es.-.-ntially 
 requisite, to be possessed by every well bred phy- 
 sician ; too many, who, instead of believing with hia?, 
 " that the profession of medicine, requires a more 
 comprehensive mind than any other," seem to think, 
 that a very limited share of genius, improved by a 
 superficial education, extending little farther than the 
 knowledge of technical terms, and some confused 
 ideas of the virtues of the most common medicines, are 
 qualifications sufficient to entitle the possessor, to as- 
 sume the appellation of Doctor, and to sport with the 
 most important of all concerns, the lives of his fellow- 
 citizens, with impunity. The medical establishments, 
 in the United States, for the instruction of students 
 in the healing art, are far from being contemptible. 
 I'heir professorial chairs, are filled by gentlemen, 
 whose talents and ingenuity, reflect the highest ho- 
 nour on their country ; and the expence of attending 
 them, is by no means exorbitant : Yet, strange to 
 tell ! every succeeding year, sends forth an inunda- 
 tion of Doctors, many of whom have never seen the 
 inside of a college, or an hospital — nor perhaps the 
 
DICTIONARY. 485 
 
 skeleton of a human body. Such men, however, by 
 their impudence and effrontery, imposing upon cre- 
 dulous people, frequently attain eminence, whilst the 
 modest and assuming practitioner, who has devoted 
 his best days to the acquisition of professional know- 
 ledge, is sometimes doomed to live in obscurity. 
 
 But is the industry of the professional student to 
 abate, because he sometimes sees great and well cul- 
 tivated powers, neglected or forgotten by mankind ? 
 Is he to exchange the glowing enthusiasm of expec- 
 tation, for the impotent langour of inactivity ? The 
 man, who, in spite of time mis- spent, and unimproved 
 talents, has been able, by low manoeuvre, and fortu- 
 nate incident, to obtain eminence, is best qualified to 
 answer these questions. He knows and feels the 
 peculiar dangers ot his situation, that the health and 
 life of his best friends are in the hands of a man unfit 
 for the important office he has undertaken ; that he is 
 every moment exposed to the open attacks, or the 
 insidious artifices of competitors, eager, as well as 
 able, on every occasion, to detect imposture and pu- 
 nish imbecillity. 
 
 Let, therefore, every young man, who avows him- 
 self a candidate for fame and fortune whether in law, 
 physic or divinity, by unwearied diligence, by pru- 
 dent conduct, and by application, secure himself from 
 the ridicule and contempt so constantly and so 
 properly attached to ignorant, though successful 
 pretenders. If, after devoting his days to busi- 
 ness and his nights to books, his toil should prove in- 
 effectual ; if mankind shall not be disposed to ac- 
 knowledge merit, or reward his labours, let not dis- 
 appointment damp his spirits, nor delayed hope make 
 his heart sick: honest, though unrequited effort will 
 afford solid comfort. He may console himself with 
 reflecting, that he shares the fate of many great and 
 many good men, and that though he does not move in a 
 brilliant and exalted circle, he is a valuable and useful 
 XTiCmber of society. The conviction, that he has en- 
 
486 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 deavoured, in spite of a frowning world, to fulfil the 
 duties of that station assigned him by Providence ; 
 that he has not buried his talent, nor yielded to the 
 depressions of despair, will heal the wounds of am- 
 bition, and diffuse a warm ray of honest joy over the 
 evening of life. 
 
 GREY, (Lady Jane) an illustrious, but unfor- 
 tunate personage of the blood royal of England by both 
 herparents, her grandmother on her father's side being 
 queen consort to Edward IV. and her grandmother 
 on her mother's being daughter to King Henry VII. 
 was born in the year 15S7. It was, in consequence 
 of the near relation of this last to the house of Tudor, 
 that her father, the aspiring duke of Suffolk, formed 
 the design of transferring the English diadem into his 
 own family, and of founding the right of his eldest 
 daughter to the succession, if King Edward should die 
 without children. He gave it out amongst his relations 
 and confidents, that though Henry VIII. had named 
 in his testam.cntary settlement, his daughters Mary 
 and Elizabeth, as next in succession to his son Edward, 
 in case of his dying vi^ithout issue ; yet the parliament 
 as well as the ecclesiastical courts, had declared them 
 both illegitimate ; that, on the supposition of their 
 being set aside by the statute law of the realm, the 
 right of other heirs to the succession remained unim- 
 paired; that it would be an indelible stain upon the 
 crown of England to put it on the head of a bastard ; 
 and in fine, that if ever the princess Mary should 
 mount the throne, the whole fabric of the reformation, 
 in the erection of which the whole nation had so 
 assiduously laboured, during so many years, would be 
 thrown down in one day. 
 
 By these and similar arguments had the duk# of 
 Suffolk artfully endeavoured to prepare his friends 
 for the design, which he had long seriously medi- 
 tated, while he beheld with secret pleasure., the dc- 
 
DICTIONARY. 487 
 
 dining state of King Edward's health. But In order 
 the more effectually to carry his measures into ex-- 
 ecution, and only a few weeks before the death of 
 his young sovereign, he married his eldest daughter 
 the lady Jane, to the earl of Guilford son of the 
 duke of Northumberland. Thus assisted by this 
 powerful interest, and chiefly aided by the strong at- 
 tachment, which the dying king had to the reforma- 
 tion, and his fears, least, if his sister Mary should 
 succeed, that whole work would be ruined ; he at 
 last ventured to open his design to him, and prevail- 
 ed with him to alter the order of the succession, and 
 to transfer the crown to the lady Jane Grey. 
 
 Upon the death of Edward, that part of the mi- 
 nistry, who were in the secret with the Dukes of Suf- 
 folk and Northumberland, went with these noblemen 
 to acquaint lady Jane of Edward's settlement of the 
 crown upon her. Already overwhelmed with the 
 death of this pious prince, at so critical a time, thei^r 
 compliments upon that occasion only served to add a 
 poignancy to her grief. She told them, that, ac- 
 cording to the laws of the realm as v/ell as the rights 
 of consanguinity, the crown belonged to the sister of 
 the deceased king: That she should wound her con- 
 science, if she would accept of a dignity, which did 
 not belong to her, and that it was very far from ever 
 being wished by her, to become great at the expence of 
 others. The assurances, which they made her, that 
 nothing was transacted for her succession, but what 
 was agreeable to the laws of the country little availed 
 to shake her resolution of rejecting the offer. Rut other 
 reasons respecting the critical state, in which the nation 
 beheld the protestant religion, joined to the importunity 
 of her father and husband, at last determined her to 
 suffer them to act, as they pleased concerning her. 
 Thus, as the Duke of Northumberland afterwards bore 
 witness, instead of pretending of herself to the crown, 
 or taking any step towards obtaining it, she never 
 would have accepted it, but in spite of herself, to 
 
488 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 please others, and to prevent the ruin of the protestant 
 part of the nation. 
 
 On the 10th July 1553, lady Jane was proclaimed 
 queen; for which proceeding, the danger of the nation 
 being again subjected, to the tyrannic sway of the 
 Romish see, if Mary should succeed to the throne, 
 was given out as the ostensible reason. It was, like- 
 wise, declared, *' that the late king had disposed of the 
 crown to the exclusion of his sisters, because they 
 were illegitimate, according to the sentence of the 
 ecclesiastical court and the declaration of parliament, 
 and that even, if they had been legitimate, as 
 they were only sisters of half blood, the laws of En- 
 gland could not admit either of them to succeed to 
 the throne, in consequence of which, king Edward 
 had appointed, that, in case Frances, duchess of 
 Suffolk, who was the nearest heiress should die without 
 male descendants, her eldest daughter lady Jane 
 Grey, should inherit the crown. 
 
 Thus this virtuous lady, whose excellent and amia- 
 ble qualities had rendered her dear to all, v^ho had the 
 happiness of knowing her and who, in no part of her 
 conduct, appears to have been actuated by motives 
 of ambition, was, contrary to her inclination, dragged 
 forward to appear as the ostensible head of a faction. 
 Her regal pageantry continued, however, only a few 
 days ; for after some feeble and unavailing efforts to 
 prevent Mary's succession, the voice of the nation, pro- 
 testants, as well as catholics called her to assume the 
 sceptre. Lady Jane and her husband were committed 
 to the tower and on the 13th November arraigned 
 and found guilty of high treason, in consequence of 
 which, they were beheaded on the 12th February fol- 
 lowing. 
 
 She met death with that dignity and fortitude 
 which seldom accompanies any, in that awful scene, 
 except the virtuous. Immediately before her execu- 
 tion, she addressed herself to the weeping multitude 
 with amazing composure, acknowledged the justice of 
 
DICTIONARY, 489 
 
 the law, though she Ermly declared, that she was 
 forced into the measures for which she suffered and di- 
 ed in charity with all. Thus fell this excellent and 
 accomplished young lady who, for simplicity of man- 
 ners, purity of heart and extensive learning was hardly 
 ever equalled. For although she had" not attained to 
 the 18th year of her age, she was well acquainted 
 with philosophy, and could express herself very pro- 
 perly, at least, in the Latin and Greek languages. 
 We are, likewise, informed, that she was well versed 
 in Hebrew, Chaldee, Arabic, French and Italian, that 
 she played well on instrumental music, and, that she 
 was excellent at the needle. We are also told, that she 
 accompanied her musical instruments with a voice 
 exquisitely sweet in itself assisted by all the graces, 
 which art could bestow. 
 
 GROTIUS, (Hugo) or more properly Hugo De 
 Groot, one of the greatest men in Europe, was bora 
 in Delft, in the United provinces of Flolland, in 1583. 
 He made so rapid progress in his studies, that, at the 
 age of 15, he had attained a great knowledge in phi- 
 losophy, divinity and civil law ; and a yet greater pro- 
 ficiency in polite literature, as appeared by the com- 
 mentary he had made, at that age, on Martian us 
 Capella. 
 
 In 1598, he accompanied the Dutch ambassador 
 into France, and was honoured by several marks of 
 esteem by Henry IV. He took his degree of Doctor 
 of Laws in that kingdom ; and, at his return to his 
 native country, devoted himself to the bar, where he 
 was admitted to plead before he was 17 years of age, 
 aftd so eminent were his abilities, that lie wzs appoint- 
 ed attorney general, whilst only in his 1^4th year. 
 
 In 1613, he settled in Rotterdam, and was nomi- 
 nated Syndic of that cily s but did not accept of the 
 ofiice, till a promise was made him, that he should 
 not be removed from it. He took this prudent pre- 
 caution from hh foreseeing, that the quarrels of the 
 
 Vol. II. No. 16. Q3 
 
49Q NEW EIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 divines on the doctrine of grace, which had already 
 given rise to many factions in the state, v^ould occasion 
 revolutions in the chief cities. The same year he 
 was sent into England on account of a dispute between 
 the two nations, on the right of fishing in the northern 
 sea* : but he could obtain no satisfaction. He was 
 afterwards sent to England, as it is thought, to persuade 
 the king and the principal divines to favour the Ar- 
 minians 3 and he had several conferences with king 
 James on that subject. 
 
 On his return, he became closely connected with 
 the patriot Barnevelt, who, having from republican 
 principles, succeeded in limiting the authority of 
 Maurice,, prince of Orange, the second stadtholder^ 
 was falsely accused by the partizans of that magis- 
 trate of a design to deliver up his country to the Spa- 
 nish monarch, and, under that pretext, as well as tor his 
 adherence to the religious opinions of Arminius, un- 
 justly beheaded, in 1619. In consequence of tha 
 attachment of Grotius to the same cause, he was 
 implicated in a similaraccusation with that of his unfor- 
 tunate friend, and, though he was permitted to escape 
 with his life, he was sentenced to imprisonment for 
 life and to forfeit all his goods and chatties. But after 
 having been treated with great rigour in his con- 
 finement for upwards of eighteen months, he was 
 delivered by the artifice of his wife, who advised hiin 
 to get into a large trunk, which had been frcquentlyem*- 
 ployed in conveying linen to and from Gorkum, where 
 it was sent to be washed. Having bored holes into this, 
 in order to prevent his being stiffled, he got into it and 
 "was carried to a friend's house in Gorkum ; where 
 dressing himself like a mason and taking a trowel in 
 his hand, he passed through the market place, and 
 stepping into a boat, v\'ent to Valvet in Brabant. 
 Soon after he retired into France, where he met with 
 a.generous reception, and had a pension settled upon 
 him by Lewis XIII. Having resided there for eleven 
 years, he returned to. Holland, on his receiving a verj^ 
 
BICTIONARY. 4^1 
 
 kind letter from Frederic Henry, who was then prince 
 of Orange; but his enemies renewing their persecutions 
 he went to Hamburgh, where in 1635, Queen Chris' 
 tina of Sweden made him her counsellor, and sent 
 him ambassador into France. After having discharged 
 the duties of this office above eleven years, he return- 
 ed to Sweden, taking Holland in his way, and re- 
 ceived many honours at Amsterdam. He was intro- 
 duced to her Swedish majesty at Stockholm, and there 
 begged that she would grant his dismission, in order 
 that he might return to his native country. This re- 
 quest was obtained with great difSculty, as Christina, 
 who was a distinguished patron of men of learning, 
 was unwilling to part with a person so noted for lite- 
 rary talents, and whose faithful services had often 
 been highly conducive to the prosperity of her king- 
 dom. In his way to Holland, the ship in which he 
 embarked, w^as cast away on the coast of Pomerania, 
 and, as he was then sick, he continued his journey by 
 land, but was forced to stop at Rostock, where he 
 died on the 28th August 1645. His body was car- 
 ried to Delft, and interred in the sepulchre of his an- 
 cestors. 
 
 Grotius was eminent as a lawyer, philosopher, ma- 
 thematician, historian and political writer; but his 
 chief works are his '' Treatise of the Truth of the 
 Christian Religion," his " Treatise of the Rights of 
 Peace and War," his « Commentaries on the Holy 
 Scriptures," and his " History and Annals of Hol- 
 land, &c.'* 
 
 GUNTER, (Edmund) an excellent niathemriti- 
 cian and astronomer, was born in Hertfordshire,. 
 England, in 1581. He was educated at the univer- 
 S'ity of Oxford, and in 1606, entered into holy or- 
 ders; but genius and inclination leading him chiefly 
 to mathematics, and the study of natural philosophy, 
 he was in 1615, chosen professor of astronomy in% 
 Grcsham college, London, where he greatly distin^- 
 
492 NSW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 guished himself by his lectures and writings. He, 
 likewise, became famous for many important improve- 
 ments in mathematical instruments for the use of na- 
 vigation. Of these, the most celebrated are, a new 
 projection of the sector; the invention of a small por- 
 table quadrant; the discovery of a new variation in 
 the manner's compass, and also, the famous line of 
 proportions, which after him has been called Gunters 
 Scaky and which serves to solve problems instrumen- 
 tally, in the same manner as logarithms do arithmeti- 
 cally. 
 
 He, likewise, published ^' Canon Triangubrum," 
 and, a work, entitled '' Of the Sector, Cross-staff, and 
 other instruments/' This last, was published, with an 
 English translation of his Canon Triangulorum,in 4to. 
 by Samuel Foster, professor of Gresham college. Mr. 
 Gunter died in 162G. 
 
 GUY, (Thomas) founder of Guy^s bospftal, in 
 London, was the son of a lighter-man and coal-dea- 
 ler, in So^thvv^ark. He was put apprentice in 166a 
 to a bookseller, and after having served his time, 
 commenced business for himself, with a stock of be- 
 tween 8 & 900 dollars. The English bibles being, 
 at that time, badly printed, Mr. Guy engaged with 
 others, in a seheme for having them printed in Hol- 
 land, and importing them ; but, this being put a stop 
 to, he contracted with the university of Oxford, for 
 their privilege of printing thcnij. and carried on a 
 great trade in bibles, for many years, to a consider- 
 able advantage. Thus, he began to accumulate mo- 
 ney, and his gains rested in his hands: for, being a 
 single man, and extremely penurious, his expences 
 were next to nothing. His custom was, to dine on 
 his shop counter^ with no other table cloth, than an 
 eld news-paper. He was also, as \\\.\\q scrupulous 
 with respect to the style of his apparel. But, the 
 
DICTIONARY. 49S 
 
 cmolaments arising from trade, were not the only 
 source of his vast fortune , for, the bulk of it was 
 ncquired by purchasing seamen's tickets, during 
 Queen Anne's wars, and by South Sea stock, in the 
 memorable year, 1720. 
 
 To shew what great events spring from trivial 
 causes, it may be observed, that the public owe the 
 dedication of the greatest part of his immense fortune, 
 to charitable purposes, to the indiscreet officiousness 
 ©f his maid servant, in interfering with the mending 
 of the pavement before the door. Guy had agreed 
 to marry her, and, preparatory to his nuptials, had 
 ordered the pavement before his door, (which was in 
 a neglected state) to be mended, as far as to a parti- 
 cular stone, which he pointed out. The maid, whilst 
 her master was out, innocently looking on the men 
 at work, pointed out a broken place to them, which 
 they had not repaired; but they informed her, that 
 Mr. Guy had directed them not to go so far. "Well," 
 says she, '' don't you mind it, tell him I bade you, 
 and 1 know he will not be angry." It happened, 
 however, that the poor girl presumed too much on 
 her influence over her careful lover, with vi^hom, the 
 expence of a few shillings extraordinary, turned the 
 scale totally against her. The men obeyed ; Guy 
 was enraged to find his orders exceeded ; his matri- 
 monial scheme was renounced ; and thus having no 
 family to provide for, he devoted the greatest part of 
 his fortune to the erection and endowment of hospi- 
 tals. 
 
 He was 76 years of age, when he formed the de- 
 sign of building the hospital contiguous to that of St. 
 Thomas's, \vhich bears his name. Tbe charge of 
 erecting this vast pile, amounted to 83,440 dollars, 
 besides, 974,575 dollars, which he left to endow it; 
 and he just lived to see it roofed in. 
 
 He erected an Alms-house, with a librar)^ at Tan- 
 worth, in Staffordshire, the place of his mother's na- 
 tivity, which he represented m parliament, for 
 
494 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 14 poor men and women, and for their pensions, as 
 well as for the putting out of poor children appren- 
 tices, bequeathed a certain sum annually. To Christ^s 
 hospital, he gave 1776 dollars a year, forever, and 
 the residue of his estate, amounting to upwards of 
 350,000 dollars, amongst those, who could prove 
 themselves in any degree, related to him. 
 
 He died, December 17th, 1724, in the 81st year 
 of his age, after having dedicated more money to 
 charitable purposes, than any one private man, upon 
 record in Great Britain, or, perhaps, in any other 
 part of the world. 
 
 HAKLUYT, (Richard) A British naval histo- 
 rian, was born in London, about the year 1553. He 
 was educated at Oxford, where he applied himself 
 chiefly to the study of cosmography, in which, after 
 having greatly improved himself, he read lectures. 
 He also introduced maps and globes into the public 
 schools of that celebrated university. In 1582, he 
 published a small collection of voyages and discove- 
 ries, and about two years after, went as chaplain to 
 the British ambassador, to the court of France. Con- 
 stantly attentive to his favourite cosmographical en- 
 quiries, in searching the French libraries, he found a 
 valuable manuscript, entitled, " The Notable History 
 of Florida, by Laiidonnierre and other Adventurers'' 
 This he caused to be published at his own expence, 
 in the French language, and soon after revised, and 
 re-published Peter Martyr^s book, " De Orbe Novo'* 
 
 After five years residence in France, Mr. Hakluyt 
 returned to England, whea he applied himself to 
 collect, translate and digest, all the voyages, journals 
 and letters, that he could procure, which he first pub- 
 lished in one volume, folio, in 1589, and, to which he 
 aftervirards added two others. Jn 1605, our author 
 was made prebendary of Westminster, in which sta- 
 tion he continued till the time of his death, which 
 
DICTIONARY, 495 
 
 happened in 1616. He was a man of indefatigable 
 diligence, and great integrity ; much in favour with 
 Queen Elizabeth's ministry, and much conversant 
 amongst seamen. 
 
 His works are, 1st. " A Collection of Voyages and 
 Discoveries/' 2d. " History of Florida." 3d. The 
 Principal Navigations^ Voyages and Discoveries of 
 the English Nation/' in 3 vol. folio. 4th. " The Dis- 
 coveries of the World, from^the first original, to the 
 year 1555," translated from the Portuguese of Gal- 
 vano, and greatly enlarged and corrected. 5th. " Vir- 
 ginia, richly valued by the descriprion of the main 
 land of Florida, her next neighbour," which he like- 
 wise translated from the Portuguese. Besides these, 
 he left several manuscripts, which fell into the hands 
 of Mr. Purchas, and were afterwards published in 
 the collections of that indefatigable writer. 
 
 HALE, (Sir Mathew) lord chief Justice of the 
 King's bench, in the reign of Charles II. was the son 
 of a counsellor at law, and born at London, in 160^*. 
 He was educated at Oxford, where he made a con- 
 siderable progress in learning, but, was afterwards 
 diverted from his studies, by the levities of youth. 
 From these, however, be was providentially refor- 
 med, by means of Mr. John Glanville, sergeant at 
 law, and applying to the study of the law, entered 
 into Lincoln's Inn. Nov, the attorney general, took 
 early notice of him, and directed him in his studies, 
 and Mr. Selden, was the first, who set him on a more 
 enlarged pursuit of learning, which he had before 
 confined to his own profession. 
 
 During the civil war, such was his moderation, and 
 the opinion universally entertained of his integrity, 
 that he possessed the confidence and esteem of both 
 parties. He was employed in his practice by all the 
 king's party ; and was appointed, by the parliament, 
 one of the commissioners to treat with the king. 
 Though the execution of king Charles, greatly affected 
 
496 NETW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 him, he took the engagements prescribed by those 
 who assumed the supreme power, and, was appoint- 
 ed, with several others, to consider of the reformation 
 of the law. About the year 1653, he was appointed 
 one of the justices of the common pleas ^ but, upon 
 the death of Oliver Cromwell, he refused to accept 
 of the new commission offered him by Richard, his 
 successor. He was a member of that parliament, 
 which called home Charles II. who, soon after 
 his restoration, appointed him, Lord Chief Baron of 
 the Exchequer, and also conferred upon him, the or- 
 der of Knighthood. 
 
 He was one of the principal judges, who sat about 
 settling the difference between landlord and tenant, 
 after the ever memorable fire in London, which hao- 
 pened in 1666 3 and he, on that difiicult occasion, 
 behaved to the entire satisfaction ol: all parties con- 
 cerned. In his post of lord chief baron, he likewise 
 acted with the most inflexible integrity, as the fol- 
 lowing anecdotes may serve to illustrate. One of the 
 iij'st peers in the realm, went once to his chamber, 
 and told him, " that having a suit in law, to be tried 
 before him, he was then to acquaint him with it, that 
 he might the better understand it, when it should 
 come to be tried in court." Upon which, his lord- 
 ship immediately interrupted him, saying **he did not 
 deal fairly, to come to his chambers about such af- 
 fairs ; for he never received information of such cau- 
 ses, but in open court, when both parties were to be 
 heard alike." On receiving such a rebuke, his grace 
 went away greatly dissatisfied, and complained of it 
 to the king, as a rudeness, which w^as not to be en- 
 dured \ but, his majesty bid him content himself, that 
 he was used no worse : adding, ** that he verily be- 
 lieved he would have used him no better, if he had 
 gone to solicit him in any of his own causes." 
 
 Another remarkable circumstance happened in one 
 of his circuits. A gentleman, who had a trial at the 
 assizes, had sent him a buck for his table. When 
 
judge Hale, therefore, heard his name, he aslced " if 
 he was not the same person, who had sent him the 
 venison," and upon being answered in the affirma- 
 tive, told him, that "he could not suffer the trial to 
 go on, till he had paid for his huck.'* The gentle- 
 man answered, that " he never sold his venison ; and 
 that he had done nothing to him, which he did not 
 do to every judge, who had gone that circuit,'' which 
 was confirmed by several gentlemen present. The 
 lord chief barren, however, would not sufler the trial 
 to proceed, till he had paid for the present ; upon 
 which, the gentleman withdrew the record. 
 
 In 1671, he was advanced to be lord chief justice 
 of the king's bench ; but, about four years after il.i? 
 promotion, he resigned the post, in consequence of 
 his declining years, and died in Decer.iber, 1G7G. 
 The attai;nments of Sir Mathew were wonderful ; for 
 he had, beside his peculiar profession, a considerable 
 knowledge in the civil law, in algebra, and other :na- 
 thematical sciences, as well as in physic, anatomy 
 and surgery : he was very conversant in experimental 
 philosophy, and other branches of philosophical learn- 
 ing ; in ancient history and chronology ; but, above 
 all, he seemed to have made divinity his chief study; 
 so that those, who read what he has written, on theo- 
 logical questions, might be inclined to think, that he 
 had studied nothing else. This excellent man, who 
 was an ornament to the bench, to his country, and 
 to human nature, wrote, 1st. *^ An Essav on the Gra- 
 vitation and Non-Gravitation of Fluid Bodies.'* 2d, 
 "Observations, touching the Tornlceliian Experi- 
 ment." 3d. " Contemplations, Moral and Divine." 
 4th. " The life of Pomponius Atticus, with Political 
 and Moral Reflections." 5th. '* Observatioiison the 
 Principles of Natural Motion." 6th. " The Primi- 
 tive origination of Mankind." He also left a great 
 number of manuscripts, in Latin and English, 
 amongst which, were his " Pleas of the Crown," 
 iince published by Mr. Emlyn, in two vol. folio }• 
 
 Vol. II. No, 16. R3 
 
'493 KEVV BI0GRAI>HICAL 
 
 and his ^* Original Institutes, Power and Jurisdiction 
 of the Parliament." 
 
 HALES, (Stephen) a celebrated Enghsh divine 
 and philosopher, was born in 1677. He was educated 
 at the university of Cambridge, where he was ad- 
 mitted a fellow in 1703, and became bachelor of 
 divinity in 1711. He soon discovered a genius for 
 natural philosophy. Botany was his first study : he like- 
 wise, devoted a great part of his time to the science 
 of anatomy, and invented a curious method of ob- 
 taining a representation of the lungs in lead. He 
 next applied himself to the study of chemistry, in 
 which, however, he did not make any remarkable 
 discoveries. In the study of astronomy, Mr. Hales 
 was equally assiduous, and, having made himself ac- 
 quainted with the Newtonian system, he contrived a 
 machine for shewing the phenomena, on much the 
 same principles, with that afterwards made by Mr. 
 Rowley, and w^hich from the name of his patron was 
 called an orrery. 
 
 About the year 1710, he was settled in a respecta- 
 ble church living in Somersetshire which vacated his 
 fellowship in the university : still, however, he pur- 
 sued his philosophical investigations, with unremit- 
 ting ardour. In 1718, he was elected a member of 
 the Royal Society, and soon after, exhibited an ac- 
 count, of some experiments, which he had lately 
 made, on the effect of the sun's w^armth in raising 
 the sap in trees. This procured him the thanks of 
 the society, who also requested him, to prosecute the 
 subject. With this request, he complied ; and, in 
 June, 1725, exhibited a treatise, in which he gave 
 an account of his progress. This treatise being high- 
 ly applauded by the society, he farther enlarged and 
 improved it, and, in 1727, published it, under the 
 title of "Vegetable Statics."" To which, soon after, 
 there appeared a sequel, under the title of *' Statical 
 Essavs." 
 
DICTIONARYo. 4^* 
 
 Tn 17S3, the university of Oxford, honoured him 
 with a diploma^ for the degree of Doctor in Divinity, 
 a mark of distinction, the more honourable, as it is 
 not usual for one university to confer academical ho- 
 nours on those, who were educated at another. In 
 1734, when the health and morals, of the lower and 
 middling class of people, were subverted, by the ex- 
 cessive drinking of gin, his philanthrophy induced 
 h-im to publish, though without his name, " A Friendr 
 ly Admonition to the Drinkers of Brandy and other 
 Spiritous Liquors,** which was repeatedly re-printed» 
 In J 739, he printed a volume in 8 vo. entitled "Phi- 
 losophical Experiments on Sea-v/ater, Corn, Flesh 
 and other Substances,'* a work, containing much 
 useful information, particularly for those, who make 
 long voyages. The same year, he exhibited to the 
 Royal Society, " An account of some further experi- 
 ments towards the discovery of medicines, for dissolv- 
 ing the stone in the kidneys and bladder, and pre- 
 serving meat in long voyages." For this, he was 
 honoured with a gold medal. The year following, 
 he published some account of experiments and ob- 
 servations on Mr. Stephens's medicines for dissolving 
 the stone ; in which, their power is^ enquired into 
 and demonstrated. 
 
 In 17 41,. he read before the Royal Society, an ac- 
 count of an instrument, which he invented, and cal- 
 led a ventilator, for conveying fresh air into mines, 
 hospitals, prisons and the close parts of ships ; he had 
 communicated it to his particular friends some months 
 before ; and, it is very remarkable, that a machine of 
 the same kind, and for the same purpose, was in 
 the spring of the same 'year, invented by one Trie- 
 wald, a Swedish ofhcer, for which, the king and se- 
 nate granted him a privilege in October following, 
 and ordered every ship of war, in the service of that 
 state, to be furnished with one of them : a model als3 
 of this machine, was sent into IVance, and all the 
 ships in tlie French navy, were ordered to have a 
 
^00 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 ventilator of the same sort. It happened also, that, 
 about the same time, one Sutton, who kept a coffee- 
 house in London, invented a ventilator of another 
 construction, to draw off the foul air out of ships by 
 means of the cook-room fire : but, poor Sutton, had 
 rot interest enough to make mankind accept the be- 
 nefit offered them, though its superiority to Dr. 
 Hales's contrivance was evident. The public, how- 
 ever, is not less indebted to the ingenuity and bene- 
 volence of Dr. Hales, whose ventilators came more 
 easily into use for many purposes of the greatest im- 
 portance. 
 
 in 1743, Dr. Hales read before the royal society, 
 a. description of a method of conveying liquors into 
 the {ibdoinen^dnr'ing the operation of tapping, and it 
 was afterwards printed in their transactions. In 
 3 745, he published some experiments and observa- 
 tions on tar-water, which he had been induced to 
 make, by the publication of a work called Sin's, in 
 which the learned Berkeley, bishop of Cloyne, had re- 
 commended tar- water as an universal medicine : en- 
 this subject, several letters passed between them ; 
 particularly with respect to the use of the tar-water 
 in the disease of the horned cattle. 
 
 Were we to follow this extraordinary man, through 
 all the inventions and improvements, which he made, 
 daring the course of his long and useful life, it would 
 tar Qy:ceed the limits necessarily assigned to this arti- 
 cle : we shall, therefore, only mention a few more of 
 the most particular. In 1746, he comrnunicated to 
 the royal society, a proposal for bringing small passa- 
 ble stones with ease and expedition, out of the blad- 
 der, and this was published in their transactions, 
 in 1748, he made another communication to the so- 
 ciety, containing a proposal for checking, in some 
 degree, the progress of fires ; also, two memiOirs, one 
 on the great benefit of ventilators, and the other on 
 electricity, all of which are printed in their trans- 
 actions. In 1149 y his veMilators were fixed in the 
 
DICTIONARY. 501 
 
 Savoy prison, by order of the secretary at war, and 
 the benefit was so great, that though 50 or 100 in a 
 year ofien died of the jaiS distemper before, yet from 
 the year 1749, to the year 1752, inclusive, no more 
 than four persons died, though in the year 1750, the 
 Bumber of prisoners was 210 ; and of those four, one 
 died of the small pox, and another of intemperance. 
 In the year;, 1750, he published some considerations 
 on the causes of earthquakes, occasioned by the 
 slight shocks, v^'hich were felt that year in London. 
 Jn the year 1752, his ventilators, worked by a wind- 
 mill, were fixed in Newgate, with branching trunks 
 to 24 wards ; and it appeared, that the dispropor- 
 tion of those, who died in the goal, before and after 
 this establishment, was as 16 to 7. He also publish- 
 ed a farther account of their success, and some ob- 
 servations on the great danger, arising from foul air, 
 exemplified by a narrative of several persons, seized 
 with the goal fever, by working in Newgate. 
 
 In the year 1753, Dr, Ilales was elected a member 
 of the academy of sciences at Paris. The same year, 
 he published in the Gentleman's Magazine, some 
 farther considerations about means to draw the foul 
 air out of the sick rooms of occasional army hospitals 
 and private houses in towns. He also published ma- 
 ny other curious particulars relative to the use and 
 success of ventilators. The same year, a description 
 of a sea-gage, which the doctor invented to measure 
 unfathomable depths, was communicated to the pub- 
 lic in the same miscellany. In 1754, he communi- 
 cated to the royal society, some experiments for 
 keeping water and fish sweet, with lime-w^ater ; an 
 account of which was published in the philosophical 
 transactions. He also continued to enrich their me- 
 moirs, w^ith many useful articles, fre^m this time till 
 his death; particularly, a method of forwarding the 
 distillation of fresh From salt v^^aier, - by blowing 
 showers of fresh air up through the latter, during the 
 operation. 
 
502 NEW BIOGRAPHICAL 
 
 Had Dr. Hales been desirous of preferment in the 
 church, such was his reputation, and the interest of 
 his family and friends, that he might have easily ob- 
 tained it. So far, however, was he from being soli- 
 citous, for the acquisition of such honours, that v/h%n 
 he had been nominated by his majesty, to fill a ca- 
 nonry of Windsor, he requested his majesty to recall 
 his nomination. He was a man remarkable for soci- 
 al virtue and sweetness of temper : his life was not 
 only blameless, but exemplary in a high degree : he 
 was happy in himself, and beneficial to others, as ap- 
 pears by this short account of his attainments and 
 pursuits. The constant serenity and cheerfulness of 
 his mind, and the temperance and regularity of his 
 life, concurred with a good constitution, to preserve 
 him in health and vigour, to the age of 84. He 
 died in 1761. 
 
 H ALLEY, (Dr. Edmund) a most celebrated 
 English philosopher anH astronomer, was born in 
 London, in 1656. He at first applied himself to the 
 study of the classics, and of the sciences in genera], 
 but, as he grew up, astronomy became his favourite 
 pursuit, in which he had, at a very early period of 
 his life, made a much greater progress, than could 
 have been possibly expected from his years. 
 
 In 1675, he went to the island of St. Helena, to 
 complete the catalogue of fixed stars, by the addition 
 of those, which lie near the South Pole; and having 
 delineated a planisphere, in which he laid them all 
 down in their exact places, he returned to England, 
 in 1678. In the year 1680, he set out on a tour 
 through the continent, and about midway, between 
 Calais and Paris, had a sight of a remarkable comet, 
 as it then appeared a second time that yeav, in its re- 
 turn from the sun. He had the November before, 
 seen it in its descent, and now hastened to complete 
 hh observations upon it, in viewing it from the royal 
 
observatory of France. His design in this part of his 
 tour, was to settle a friendly correspondence between 
 the two royal observatories of Greenwich and Paris 
 and, in the mean time, to improve himself^ under so 
 great a master as Cassina. He returned to England, 
 in 1682, and in the year following, published his 
 *' Theory of the Variation of the Magnetical compass," 
 in which he supposes the whole globe of the earth to 
 be a great magnet, with four magnetical poles, or 
 points of attraction ; but afterwards thinking, that 
 this theory was liable to great exceptions, he procur- 
 ed an application to be made to king William, who 
 appointed him copimander of the Paramour Pink, 
 with orders to seek by observations, the discoverv of 
 the rule of variations, and to lay down the longitudes 
 and latitudes of the British settlements in America. 
 
 He set out on this attempt, on the 24th November, 
 1698, but having crossed the line, his men grew 
 sickly, and his lieutenant mutinying, he returned home 
 in June 1699. Having got the lieutenant tried and 
 cashiered, he set sail the second time, in September 
 following, with the same ship, and another of less 
 bulk, of which he had also the command. He now 
 traversed the vast Atlantic ocean from one hemis- 
 phere to the other, as far as the ice would permit 
 him to go ; and having made his observations, at 
 St. Helena, Brazil, Cape Verd, Barbadoes, the Ma- 
 deiras, the Canaries, the coast of Barbary, and many 
 other latitudes, returned in September 1700, and the 
 next year published a general chart, shewing at one 
 view, the variation of the compass in all those places. 
 
 Captain Halley, as he was now called, had been 
 at home little more than half a year, when he was 
 sent to observe the course of the tides, with the lon- 
 gitude and latitude of the principal places, in the 
 British channel j of all which, he afterwards publish- 
 ed a correct map. In 1703, captain Halley was made 
 professor of geometry in the university of Oxford, and 
 had the deijree of Doctor of L?avs conferred udou 
 
oOi >JEW biographical' 
 
 him. He was scarcely settled there, when he began 
 to translate into Latin from the Aribic, "Appolo- 
 nius de Sectione Rationis/' and to restore the two 
 books " De Setione Spatii," of the same author, 
 which are lost, by the account given of them by Pap-' 
 pius, and 'he published the whole work in 1706. la 
 1714 he was made secretary to the Royal Society, and 
 in 1720, appointed the king's astronomer at the Roy- 
 al Observatory at Greenwich. He died in 1742. 
 His principal w^orks, are 1st. " Catalogus Stellarum 
 Australium." 2d. " Tabulae Astronomicae." 3d. "An 
 Abridgement of the Astronomy of Comets.'* The 
 world is also indebted to Dr. Halley, for the publica- 
 tion of several of the works of the great Sir Isaac 
 Newton, who had a particular friendship for him, 
 and to whom he frequently communicated his dis- 
 coveries. 
 
 £ND OF THE SECOND VOLUME.